Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
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Kisses.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Kisses.
Let's live, my dearest Lesbia! and love,
The little Time that Nature lends, improve:
In Love and Pleasure let us spend the Day,
Nor care one Farthing what old Dotards say!
The Sun may rise again when once 'tis set,
Its usual Labour, and old Course repeat:
But when our Day is once depriv'd of Light,
Sleep is our Portion, and eternal Night.
A thousand Kisses give: an hundred more:
Another thousand, Lesbia! I implore:
Another hundred quickly add to these:
Another thousand instant let me seize:
And when repeated thousands num'rous grow,
We'll kiss at random, nor pretend to know
How many you have lent, or what I owe.
Lest wicked Envy should attempt to say,
How many thousands we have kiss'd away.—
The little Time that Nature lends, improve:
In Love and Pleasure let us spend the Day,
Nor care one Farthing what old Dotards say!
7
Its usual Labour, and old Course repeat:
But when our Day is once depriv'd of Light,
Sleep is our Portion, and eternal Night.
A thousand Kisses give: an hundred more:
Another thousand, Lesbia! I implore:
Another hundred quickly add to these:
Another thousand instant let me seize:
And when repeated thousands num'rous grow,
We'll kiss at random, nor pretend to know
How many you have lent, or what I owe.
Lest wicked Envy should attempt to say,
How many thousands we have kiss'd away.—
Want you to know how many Kisses
Would satisfy my boundless Wishes?
Not fewer than the Lybian Sands
Spread o'er the parch'd Cyrene's Lands,
Between Jove's Temple and the Fane
Where Battus' sacred Bones remain:
Not fewer than the Stars above,
Which see by Night Men's stolen Love.
So many Kisses would I give,
(Who now for Want of Kisses grieve,)
As should in Number far surmount,
All that Arithmetic can count.
Nor all the Force of magic Art,
My Lips from yours should ever part.—
Would satisfy my boundless Wishes?
Not fewer than the Lybian Sands
Spread o'er the parch'd Cyrene's Lands,
Between Jove's Temple and the Fane
Where Battus' sacred Bones remain:
Not fewer than the Stars above,
Which see by Night Men's stolen Love.
So many Kisses would I give,
(Who now for Want of Kisses grieve,)
As should in Number far surmount,
All that Arithmetic can count.
Nor all the Force of magic Art,
My Lips from yours should ever part.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |