University of Virginia Library

THE OATH.

By those delicious pulpy lips,
Where Cupid his ambrosia sips,
Those lips whose pressure would assuage
The frigid force of ice-bound age!

72

By all the graces of thy mien,
Where ease and elegance are seen!
By the delusions of that Cestus,
Which Venus gave you when she blest us!
By the keen magic of that spot,
Where grief in rapture is forgot!
Celestial spot! whose slightest touch,
Or gives too little—or too much!