Amasia, or, The Works of the Muses A Collection of Poems. In Three Volumes. By Mr John Hopkins |
 | I. |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | Amasia, or, The Works of the Muses |  |
To Amasia, tickling a Gentleman.
Methinks, I see how the blest Swain was lay'd,While round his sides your nimble Fingers play'd,
With pleasing softness did they swiftly rove,
Raising the Sweet, Delicious pangs of Love,
While, at each touch, they made his Heart strings move.
As round his Breast, his ravish'd Breast they crow'd,
We hear their Musick, when he laughs aloud.
You ply him still, and as he melting lies,
Act your soft Triumphs, while your Captive dies.
Thus, he perceives, thou, Dearest, Charming Fair!
Without your Eyes, you can o'ercome him there.
Thus too he shews what's your unbounded skill,
You please, and charm us, tho' at once you kill.
42
While thro' his Veins the fancy'd light'nings fly,
And, gush'd with vast delights, I see him hast to die.
| Amasia, or, The Works of the Muses | |