What raptures then the throbbing bosom swell:
O’er all the nerves what tender tumults roll,
While love with sweet enchantment melts the soul.
“In transport lost, by trembling hope imprest,
The blushing virgin sunk upon my breast,
While her’s congenial beat with fond alarms!
Dissolving softness! Paradise of charms!
Flashed from our eyes, in warm transfusion flew
Our blending spirits that each other drew!
O bliss supreme! where Virtue’s self can melt