The Fair Circassian, A Dramatic Performance Done from the Original By a Gentleman-Commoner of Oxford. The Second Edition Corrected. To which are added Several Occasional Poems. By the same Author [i.e. Samuel Croxall] |
 |
 |
To SYLVIA. |
 | The Fair Circassian, A Dramatic Performance |  |
39
To SYLVIA.
Sylvia
, for ever lovely, dearest Maid,
With You compar'd, the Lilly and the Rose
O'erwhelm'd in Grief recline their dewy Head,
Nor This so pure, nor That so blooming shows;
In every Clime your opening Beauties bring
Flora's whole Wardrobe, a perpetual Spring,
With You compar'd, the Lilly and the Rose
O'erwhelm'd in Grief recline their dewy Head,
Nor This so pure, nor That so blooming shows;
In every Clime your opening Beauties bring
Flora's whole Wardrobe, a perpetual Spring,
Unlock the Tresses of your burnisht Hair,
Loose let the Ringlets o'er your Shoulders spread;
Thus mix'd We view them more distinctly fair,
Like Trails of golden Wire on Ivory laid.
So Phœbus o'er the yielding Æther streams,
And streaks the silver Clouds with brighter Beams.
Loose let the Ringlets o'er your Shoulders spread;
Thus mix'd We view them more distinctly fair,
Like Trails of golden Wire on Ivory laid.
So Phœbus o'er the yielding Æther streams,
And streaks the silver Clouds with brighter Beams.
So finely turn'd your polisht Eyebrows rise,
As model'd by young Cupid's heavenly Bow;
And sure his fatal Shafts are in your Eyes,
Which at the gazing World in sport You throw.
O Nymph, to ease your Lover's throbbing Smart,
Yield, and prepare for a revenging Dart.
As model'd by young Cupid's heavenly Bow;
And sure his fatal Shafts are in your Eyes,
Which at the gazing World in sport You throw.
O Nymph, to ease your Lover's throbbing Smart,
Yield, and prepare for a revenging Dart.
40
Your honied Lips, like fair Vermilion bright,
Moist as Dione's with a balmy Sweet,
Pouting for Kisses, swell to give Delight,
And part commodiously with mine to meet.
O come, like Doves, my Sylvia, let us bill,
Foin, thrust, and parry with ingenious Skill.
Moist as Dione's with a balmy Sweet,
Pouting for Kisses, swell to give Delight,
And part commodiously with mine to meet.
O come, like Doves, my Sylvia, let us bill,
Foin, thrust, and parry with ingenious Skill.
But stop! for so excessive is the Bliss,
It shoots like Poison thro' my vital Blood,
With pleasing Pain You stab at every Kiss,
O Gods! and torture while You're kindly Good.
Too lovely Maid! regard my cruel Case,
And heal Me with a full compleat Embrace.
It shoots like Poison thro' my vital Blood,
With pleasing Pain You stab at every Kiss,
O Gods! and torture while You're kindly Good.
Too lovely Maid! regard my cruel Case,
And heal Me with a full compleat Embrace.
What rosy Odours your soft Bosom yields!
Heaving and falling gently as You breathe:
Like Hills that rise amidst fair fertile Fields,
With round smooth Tops and flowery Vales beneath.
So swell the candid Alps with fleecy Snow,
While Myrtles bud, and Violets bloom below.
Heaving and falling gently as You breathe:
Like Hills that rise amidst fair fertile Fields,
With round smooth Tops and flowery Vales beneath.
So swell the candid Alps with fleecy Snow,
While Myrtles bud, and Violets bloom below.
Your Speech like Music flows in charming Strains,
Your fragrant Kisses with Delight I taste,
Your Touch like Lightning trembles thro' my Veins
And 'wakes my Fancy to a fresh Repast.
Raptures on Raptures, an eternal Round,
And Joys on Joys successively abound.
Your fragrant Kisses with Delight I taste,
Your Touch like Lightning trembles thro' my Veins
And 'wakes my Fancy to a fresh Repast.
41
And Joys on Joys successively abound.
If the fam'd Pow'rs such full Fruition share
In Transports which their Appetites refine,
If Love and Pleasure are the Business there,
What Bliss have They more exquisite than mine?
Sylvia, like Heaven, does every Sense improve,
And melts down every Passion into Love.
In Transports which their Appetites refine,
If Love and Pleasure are the Business there,
What Bliss have They more exquisite than mine?
Sylvia, like Heaven, does every Sense improve,
And melts down every Passion into Love.
| The Fair Circassian, A Dramatic Performance | |