Basia Joannis Secundi Nicolai Hagensis or The Kisses of Joannes Secundus Nicolaius of the Hague. In Latin and English Verse. With the Life of Secundus, and a Critic upon his Basia. Adorn'd with a Cut of the Author, and another of his Mistress Julia, engrav'd by the famous Bernard Picart the Roman [by George Ogle] |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. | KISS XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
 | Basia Joannis Secundi Nicolai Hagensis |  |
KISS XVIII.
When first She view'd the match-less Maid;
When first those swelling Lips sur-vey'd;
Lips! so complete in ev'ry Part!
Not to be match'd by nicest Art!
(Not! tho', with Coral, Iv'ry bound,
Conspir'd to form as sweet a Round!)
Strait, from her Breast rose secret Sighs;
Tears fell from Cytherea's Eyes.
And all around, (as Envy moves,)
She summons the lascivious Loves.
When first those swelling Lips sur-vey'd;
Lips! so complete in ev'ry Part!
Not to be match'd by nicest Art!
(Not! tho', with Coral, Iv'ry bound,
Conspir'd to form as sweet a Round!)
Strait, from her Breast rose secret Sighs;
Tears fell from Cytherea's Eyes.
And all around, (as Envy moves,)
She summons the lascivious Loves.
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“Avails it Ought, (the Goddess cry'd)
“That to these Lips, on sacred Ide,
“(Tho', emulous, Minerva strove;
“Tho' Juno, Sister-Wife of Jove!)
“The Shepherd-judge decreed the Prize?
“If a new Poet-judge arise,
“That dares profane these Lips Divine;
“Dares Human Lips prefer to Mine?
“But go, my Boys, my faithful Guard!
“Go punish this presumptuous Bard!
“Trans-fix Him thro' the burning Heart!
“Direct against Him ev'ry Dart!
“Trans-fix Him thro' the melting Liver!
“Empty upon Him ev'ry Quiver!
“But, ah! my faithfull Boys, beware,
“What Arms You use against the Fair.
“Averse be ev'ry Arrow sped;
“From Love averse and tipt with Lead.
“Such! as the softest Bosom steels!
“Such! as the youngest Blood congeals!”
“That to these Lips, on sacred Ide,
“(Tho', emulous, Minerva strove;
“Tho' Juno, Sister-Wife of Jove!)
“The Shepherd-judge decreed the Prize?
“If a new Poet-judge arise,
“That dares profane these Lips Divine;
“Dares Human Lips prefer to Mine?
“But go, my Boys, my faithful Guard!
“Go punish this presumptuous Bard!
“Trans-fix Him thro' the burning Heart!
“Direct against Him ev'ry Dart!
“Trans-fix Him thro' the melting Liver!
“Empty upon Him ev'ry Quiver!
“But, ah! my faithfull Boys, beware,
“What Arms You use against the Fair.
“Averse be ev'ry Arrow sped;
“From Love averse and tipt with Lead.
“Such! as the softest Bosom steels!
“Such! as the youngest Blood congeals!”
'Tis done. Involv'd in fiercest Fires,
Ah! me! th' un-happy Bard expires.
Firm, as He loves, the Fair disdains;
And, safe herself, de-rides his Pains.
No soft Concern her Bosom shows.
Ah! Cold! as Hyperborean Snows!
Obdurate! as Sicanian Caves!
Or Rocks assail'd by Adrian Waves!
And yet those Lips, too rashly prais'd,
Ingrate! these dire Disasters rais'd.
For Those are all these Torments borne.
Alas!— You know not why You scorn!
What Crime could Heav'nly Pow'rs in-gage!
What Insult rouze Dione's Rage!
Ah! me! th' un-happy Bard expires.
Firm, as He loves, the Fair disdains;
And, safe herself, de-rides his Pains.
No soft Concern her Bosom shows.
Ah! Cold! as Hyperborean Snows!
Obdurate! as Sicanian Caves!
Or Rocks assail'd by Adrian Waves!
And yet those Lips, too rashly prais'd,
Ingrate! these dire Disasters rais'd.
51
Alas!— You know not why You scorn!
What Crime could Heav'nly Pow'rs in-gage!
What Insult rouze Dione's Rage!
Then, gently-natur'd, lay aside,
It suits Thee ill, that stubborn Pride!
Rough Manners those soft Charms disgrace.
Assume a Look becomes thy Face.
Mean-time, the Grounds of all my Woes,
Those honey'd Lips to mine oppose.
And, closely as They lie com-prest,
Drink half the Poyson of my Breast,
Fondly trans-fusing e'er They part,
One equal Flame to Either Heart.
Fear not tho' Heav'nly Pow'rs in-gage;
Fear not to rouze Dione's Rage.
Thy Beauty, Maid, shall be thy Shield;
Ev'n Heav'nly Pow'rs to Beauty yield.
It suits Thee ill, that stubborn Pride!
Rough Manners those soft Charms disgrace.
Assume a Look becomes thy Face.
Mean-time, the Grounds of all my Woes,
Those honey'd Lips to mine oppose.
And, closely as They lie com-prest,
Drink half the Poyson of my Breast,
Fondly trans-fusing e'er They part,
One equal Flame to Either Heart.
Fear not tho' Heav'nly Pow'rs in-gage;
Fear not to rouze Dione's Rage.
Thy Beauty, Maid, shall be thy Shield;
Ev'n Heav'nly Pow'rs to Beauty yield.
| Basia Joannis Secundi Nicolai Hagensis | |