Basia Joannis Secundi Nicolai Hagensis :: :: University of Virginia Library

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]

Ogle, George (1704-1746)

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EPIGRAM OF Joannes Secundus, UPON HIS Book of KISSES.

THE KISSES OF JOANNES SECUNDUS.

EPIGRAM OF Joannes Secundus,

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EPIGRAM OF Joannes Secundus, UPON HIS Book of KISSES.

Lycinna scorns my Kisses; They are chaste!
Enerv'd I seem in her experienc'd Taste.
And Ælia calls Me, “Bard with languid Strings,”
She that to Love in Streets her Off'rings brings.
Perhaps, my utmost Strength They seek to know!
And Vigor prove!—Go! hateful Wantons, go!
My Strength, my Vigor long despair to find.
For You these Kisses never were design'd.
Never for You were these soft Measures wrought;
Read Me, ye tender Brides of Boys un-taught!
Read Me, of Brides un-taught ye tender Boys!
Yet new to Venus' sweetly-varying Joys!

THE KISSES OF JOANNES SECUNDUS.

KISS I.

[_]

Translated by Mr. Fenton.

When Venus, in the sweet Idalian Shade,
A Vi'let Couch for young Ascanius made;
Their op'ning Gems th'obedient Roses bow'd,
And veil'd his Beauties with a Damasc Cloud:
While the bright Goddess, with a gentle Show'r
Of Nectar'd Dews, perfum'd the blissfull Bow'r.

Of Sight insatiate, She devours his Charms,
'Till her soft Breast re-kindling Ardor warms:
New Joys tumultuous in her Bosom roll,
And all Adonis rushes on her Soul.
Transported with each dear-resembling Grace,
She cries, “Adonis!—sure I see thy Face!
Then stoops to clasp the beauteous Form, but fears
He'd wake too soon, and with a Sigh forbears.
Yet, fix'd in silent Rapture, stands to gaze;
Kissing each flow'ry Bud that round Him plays.
Swell'd with her Touch, each animated Rose
Expands; and strait with warmer Purple glows:
Where Infant Kisses bloom, a balmy Store!
Redoubling all the Bliss she felt before.

Sudden, her Swans career along the Skies,
And o'er the Globe the fair Celestial flies.
Then as where Ceres pass'd, the teeming Plain
Yellow'd, with wavy Crops of Golden Grain;
So, fruitful Kisses fell where Venus flew,
And by the Pow'r of Genial Magic grew!
A plenteous Harvest! which She deign'd t'impart
To sooth an agonizing love-sick Heart.

All hail, Ye Roseat Kisses! who remove
Our Cares, and, cool the Calentures of Love.
Lo! I your Poet in melodious Lays
Bless your kind Pow'r; en-amour'd of your Praise:
Lays! form'd to last, 'till barb'rous Time invades
The Muses Hill, and withers all their Shades.

Sprung from the Guardian of the Roman Name,
In Roman Numbers live, secure of Fame.

Venus.

KISS II.

[_]

Translated by Mr. Fenton.

As the young en-amour'd Vine
Round her Elm delights to twine;
As the clasping Ivy throws,
Round her Oak, her wanton Boughs:
So close, expanding all thy Charms,
Fold Me, Neæra, in thy Arms!
Closer, Neæra, cou'd it be,
Wou'd my fond Arms in-circle Thee.

The jovial Friend shall tempt in vain
With Humor, Wit, and brisk Champaigne;
In vain shall Nature call for Sleep;
We'll Love's eternal Vigils keep.
Thus, thus, for-ever let us lie;
Dissolving in Excess of Joy;
'Till Fate shall with one single Dart,
Transfix the Pair it cannot part.

Thus join'd, we'll fleet like Venus' Doves,
And seek the blest Elysian Groves,
Where Spring in Rosy Triumph reigns,
Perpetual o'er the joyous Plains.
There, Lovers of Heroic Name,
Revive their long-extinguish'd Flame;
And o'er the fragrant Vale advance
In shining Pomp to form the Dance:
Or sing of Love, and gay Desire,
Responsive to the warbling Lyre;
Reclining-soft in blissfull Bow'rs,
Purpled-sweet with springing Flow'rs:
And cover'd with a silken Shade
Of Laurel, mix'd with Myrtle, made;
Where, flaunting in Immortal Bloom,
The Musk-Rose scents the verdant Gloom:
Thro' which the whisp'ring Zephyrs fly
Softer than a Virgin's Sigh.

When we approach those blest Retreats,
Th' Assembly strait will leave their Seats;
Admiring much the matchless Pair;
So fond the Youth, the Nymph so fair!
Daughters and Mistresses to Jove,
By Homer fam'd of old for Love;
In Homage to thy matchless Grace,
Will give Pre-eminence of Place.
Helen herself will soon agree
To rise, and yield her Rank to Thee.

KISS III.

One tender Kiss, (I cry'd) sweet-blooming Maid,
When on my Lips her Lips Neæra laid.
But, just-prepar'd the promis'd Sweets to take,
Lo! quick her nimble Lips my Lips forsake.
Quick! as when starting back, in wild Surprise,
The new-trod Snake th'unwary Trav'ler flies.
But now, my eager Passion to allay,
Complete, sweet-blooming Maid, the am'rous Play.
This was to mock, my Life, not scant the Bliss;
This gave a Thirst of Kissing, but no Kiss.

KISS IV.

Not Kisses thy fond Lips diffuse;
But Nectar'd Sweets! Ambrosial Dews!
Sweets! that recall the Soul from Death!
Such! as not Thyme, with balmy Breath;
Such! as not Nard, in Spicy Gales;
Such! as not Cinnamum exhales!
Such! as ev'n Virgin Stores excell!
Which, lab'ring Bees, in waxen Cell,

Beneath their Osier Roof distill:
Drawn from Hymettus' fragrant Hill;
Or gather'd in Cecropian Bow'r,
Where blooms the Rose, Celestial Flow'r!
Not Kisses thy fond Lips diffuse;
But Nectar'd Sweets! Ambrosial Dews!

These, if, thus lavish, You bestow;
Sudden, shall I Immortal grow!
Sudden! to Gods, exalted, rise;
And share the Banquets of the Skies!

Then, ah, forbear, Sweet Maid, forbear!
Spare, for my Sake, thy Bounty spare!
Or Thou thy-self Immortal grow!
For without Thee, Neæra, know;
Ev'n to the Gods I wou'd not rise:
Nor share the Banquets of the Skies.
No! not! Tho' all the Pow'rs Above;
The Daughters and the Wives of Jove:
Wou'd my Superiour God-head own;
And seat me on the Starry Throne.

KISS V.

When Thou, profuse of Heav'nly Charms,
Around Me throw'st those tender Arms;
And with that Neck, which lovely-twines;
And with that Breast, which soft-declines;

And with that sweetly-witching Face;
Hang on Me, thus, in fond Imbrace:

When Thou, those am'rous Lips of Thine,
Fit'st to these am'rous Lips of mine;
Those Lips! that thus, in rap'trous Bliss,
Give and receive the wounding Kiss;—
Give and receive the trembling Dart:—
Sweet Play! soft-thrilling to the Heart!
Or when thy Soul, of Mine possest,
My Life draws from my glowing Breast:
My Life! which scorching Heats destroy!
Burnt with Excess of fiercest Joy!

Or when thy Soul calls mine from Death;
And wafts new Life with humid Breath:
That Breath! which Vital Air respires!
And kindly cools my raging Fires!

Then, dear Neæra, thus I cry;
(Then! as 'twixt Death and Life I lie.)
“Love is a Pow'r all Pow'rs above!
“There is no greater Pow'r than Love!
“Or if a Greater we allow;
“Greater than Love: That Pow'r art Thou!

KISS VI.

Two Thousand Kisses, (in Exchange of Hearts)
As soft and Sweet as Mutual-love imparts;
Of Mutual-faith, the Terms, we jointly make.
I give a Thousand, and a Thousand take.
Fairly you paid the Number, gracious Maid!
Were Love, by any Number, fairly paid!
But Love, alas, to Number never yields.
The Blades, Who numbers, of well-water'd Fields!
Who, Queen of Plenty, that extolls thy Praise,
Intreats Thee, Ceres, number'd Ears to raise?
Who, Bacchus, that thy pleasing Pow'r adores,
An Hundred Clusters servilely implores?
Who, Pales, that thy bounteous Aid demands,
Lifts for a Thousand Bees vain-suppliant Hands?
When Jove descends in Floods of Genial Rain,
Who tells the Drops that cheer the thirsty Plains?
Or when the God assumes severer Arms;
With driving Winds the troubled Air alarms;
And Icy Bolts, o'er Earth, o'er Ocean pours;
Computes the Fragments of the rat'ling Show'rs?
All Things that fall to Mortals from the Skies,
Ætherial Gifts! to Infinite arise.
Whether Auspicious or Averse They prove;
A Majesty that suits the House of Jove!

Then why, bright Goddess!— (for that Heav'nly Face
Speaks Thee a Goddess of Celestial Race,
Speaks Thee ev'n Her in Beauty to excell,
Who roams ore the vast Deeps with vagrant Shell.)
Why so exact, thy Attributes Divine,
Kisses to bounded Numbers to confine?
Yet, Cruel, number not my cease-less Sighs;
Nor Tears for-ever trickling from my Eyes?
Number, at-will, for ev'ry Tear a Kiss;
But number not, without the Pain, the Bliss.
Or give, to ease my Doubts, and lay my Fears,
Kisses un-number'd for un-number'd Tears.

KISS VII.

Kisses, in Rapture un-control'd
An Hundred by an Hundred told;—
An Hundred, yet too scanty Store,
Told by an ample Thousand o'er;—
A Thousand, yet e'er I refrain,
Told by a Thousand o'er again;—
As many Thousands as before,
Told by as many Thousands more,
As are the Drops that fill the Main,
Or Stars that gild th' Ætherial Plain;—
All These, and Millions yet un-told;—
While Thee, thus closely I infold,
Closely I'll give these Rosy Cheeks;
This Lip that swells; this Eye that Speaks!

As fondly-clasping, Arms in Arms,
Thy Lover thus devours thy Charms,
And reaping Kisses now He seeks,
Those Fields of Roses, blooming Cheeks!
Now, to those Lips, soft-swelling, flies!
Now, to those sweetly-speaking Eyes!
In vain thy restless Lover seeks,
To view those rosy-blooming Cheeks.
Nor rosy-blooming Cheeks He spies,
Nor swelling Lips, nor speaking Eyes.
Nor yet that Look of pleasing Smiles;
That Look! which all his Cares beguiles.
That Look! which, (as the God of Day
Chases the gath'ring Clouds away,
When thro' mid Æther, mildly bright,
He guides the lucid Steeds of Light,
Dispels the Shades, corrects the Storms,
And all the Face of Heav'n reforms:)
Still beaming-soft with Golden Rays,
The Tumults of his Soul allays,
Drives from his Eyes all mournful Tears,
Drives from his Thoughts all gloomy Fears.

What jealous Wars, the while, arise,
Sweet Maid! between my Lips and Eyes!
While to possess Thee, all-intire,
Now These, Now Those by Turns aspire!
How shall I think to share thy Love?
How bear a Rival ev'n of Jove?

When scarce my Eyes thy Beauties share!
And scarce my Lips for Rivals bear!

KISS VIII.

By what Folly ill-betray'd,
Witless Creature! Thoughtless Maid!
By what madding Fury stung,
Coud'st Thou hurt this harm-less Tongue?

Sped by Thee, because no Dart
Errs from my un-guarded Heart;
Seems such Ill, no Art can cure,
Such! so-easy to indure?
That, new Weapons to destroy
On this Tongue Thou shoud'st imploy?
Tongue! that wont with Suns that rise;
Wont, with Suns that quit the Skies,
Thro' sad Nights, thro' tedious Days:
Tongue! ever-wont to sing thy Praise?

This is He, the faithful Tongue,
That so oft thy Praises sung.
Sung! those Locks of easy Flow!
Sung! those Breasts of Virgin Snow!
Sung! that Neck, which lovely-twines!
Sung! that Eye, which wanton-shines!
Sung! in such harmonious Lays,
As to Heav'n Neæra raise:

Far beyond the Fires of Jove:
Envy of all the God's above!

This! that sung Thee, my Delight!
Thee! Sole Pleasure of my Sight!
Thee! Sole Rapture of my Heart!
Thee! My Soul's far better Part!
Thee! My Passion! Thee! My Love!
Thee! My Turtle! Thee! My Dove!
Sung! in such harmonious Lays,
As to Heav'n Neæra raise;
Envy of the Gods above!
Envy of Venus, as of Jove!

Say, or hence proceeds thy Pride?
(Apt in Beauty to confide!)
Hence thy Pow'r? (Tyrannic Fair!)
That He stoops those Wrongs to bear.
By no Insult mov'd, or Pain,
From thy Praises to abstain.
Still extolling to the Skies,
Those delicious Lips and Eyes!
Ev'n those Teeth, ill-govern'd Arms!
Wanton Authors of his Harms!
Stamm'ring midst his bleeding Wounds,
Still He sings in broken Sounds!
Apt in Beauty to confide!
Fair Tyrant! hence thy Pow'r and Pride.

KISS IX.

[_]

Translated by Mr. Ward.

Be not still kissing Me, still smiling,
Always fond, and always willing;
Sweetly speaking, softly sighing,
Ever on my Bosom lying!

All Things have their certain Measure;
Narrow Bounds are fix'd to Pleasure.
Whate'er affects with most Delight,
Soonest cloys the Appetite.

When I for thrice-three Kisses sue,
Take Sev'n away, and grant but Two;
Yet Neither long, and balmy Neither;
Such, as the Virgin gives her Father!
And chaste as Those that are bestow'd
By Cynthia on her Brother-God!
Then start from me, in wanton Play,
And trip, with swimming Pace, away;
Into some secret Corner fly,
And hide in Darkness from my Eye.

Your Steps thro' Darkness will I trace,
And search the most retired Place.

Like some proud Victor will I lay
My eager Hands upon my Prey.
I'll toss, and towze, and rifle You,
As Hawks the tim'rous Turtle do.

You, your humble Hands shall rear;
Submissive, beg me to forbear;
And hope sev'n Kisses may in-gage
My easy Heart; and bribe my Rage.

In vain!—You sev'n-times sev'n shall give,
To win my Grace, poor Fugitive!
My Arms around that Neck in-twin'd,
Shall all the while my Captive bind.

When, paid the Price, I loose my Arms,
Then shall You swear by all your Charms;
If this Way I resent such Crimes,
You'd play the Trick a-thousand-times.

KISS X.

No certain Kiss one certain Way repeat.
Thus try'd, the Sweetest ceases to be sweet.
For as moist Kisses thrill the yielding Blood,
With humid Lips on humid Lips bestow'd;
So warmer Kisses warmer Joys inspire,
And the rapt Soul with madding Transport fire.

Not less Delight, to kiss fond—rolling Eyes,
And view the Authors of our Tears and Sighs;
Or, as to the lov'd Neck or Cheek We cling
In am'rous Trance, see fresher Roses spring;
And tell-tale Signs, by wanton Teeth imprest,
On snow-white Shoulder rise, or snow-white Breast.
From trembling Lips to change the trembling Darts;
And mutual Souls im-mix from mutual Hearts:
While Love lies panting for a Gasp of Breath,
Now! now! just struggling betwixt Life and Death!
Me, charm all Measures of the tender Sport,
Kisses! or quick, or slow; or long or short;
(Sweet Mixture! tedious Languor to relieve!)
Whether I give, or whether I receive.
Such as You get, return not, charming Maid!
Let Either summon artfull Change to Aid.
And who the first un-vary'd Kiss applies;
Attend this Judgment with submissive Eyes.
“As many Kisses as were told before;
“As Either offer'd and as Either bore;
“The vanquish'd Lover to the Victor pays
“So many Kisses, told so many Ways.

KISS XI.

Kisses I'm said to teach by newest Rules;
Unknown to rigid Sires in ancient Schools.
Disturb'd, my Life, with these severe Alarms,
Around thy Neck I throw my eager Arms;

And, for thy melting Kisses half-expire,
“Alas! (thus, fondly-anxious, I inquire.)
“What of my Weakness will They hence declare!
Yet scarce know well, or what I am or where.
Neæra smiling hears the grave Demand;
And twining round my Neck her snow-white Hand;
A Kiss with such sweet Wantoness bestows,
As not the Lips of Venus cou'd disclose!
Nor Mars receive! And laughing; “What (she cries)
“You dread the solid Judgments of the Wise?
“Regard Them not, while I your Cause approve;
“At my Tribunal try'd, by Laws of Love!

KISS XII.

Why turn your modest Looks aside?
Matrons, and Maids! affected Pride!
Here no indecent Measures fear,
Ye Matrons strict! Ye Maids severe!
Of Gods, I sing, no monstrous Shapes.
Of Nymphs I sing, no lustfull Rapes.
No Words are here of wanton sound!—
No Words! that wont nice Ears to wound;
But all confin'd to strictest Rules.
Pedants might teach Them in their Schools.
Sweet Kisses my soft Lays inspire;
Chaste Priest of the Aonian Choir!

No longer, with affected Pride,
The Maids, and Matrons turn aside.
Witless, perhaps, what I had said,—
What Words my Lips had well-nigh fled.—
Alas!— Not loosest. Words They fear;
Strict, but in Show, in Look, Severe.
Hence, Matron-Tribe, and Maiden-Train!
Hence, Ye Impertinent and Vain!
How much more delicate of Taste
Neæra, much more truly chaste?
A wanton Lover sure to chuse!
But sure to fly a wanton Muse!

KISS XIII.

Languid I lay from the too pleasing Strife;
And void, imbracing and imbrac'd, of Life.
From my dry'd Mouth my wasted Spirit flies,
Nor with one Gale my panting Heart supplies.
Now, swims tremendous Styx before my Sight;
And the sad Realm of Solitary Night.
Now, near-at-hand, the gloomy Bark appears,
And Charon, yet more horrible, in Years.
When a moist Kiss, drawn from her in-most Breast,
Neæra on my burning Lips impress'd.
Kiss! that, beyond the Force of Death, restores!
Kiss! that transports me from th' Infernal Shores!

Kiss! that controlls the Pow'r of envious Fate!
And sends the Stygian God without his Freight!
No;—not un-fraught He parted, bounteous Maid!
But to the Manes bore my mournfull Shade:
While of thy Soul a Part within Me lives,
And Vigor to my fainting Body gives.
Yet droops full-oft, in Sorrow for the Change;
(For lodg'd so well, what Soul cou'd bear to range?)
And ah! full-oft, impatient of delay,
Strives to return, thro' ev'ry secret Way.—
Again, to my Relief, Belov'd, repair!
Feed thy own Soul with her own Native Air!
Quickly, e'er yet a sadder Flight I take;
E'er yet my fainting Body She forsake.
Still to my Lips your Lips, Tenacious, join;
Still with your Soul, Assiduous, nourish Mine.
Till, in long Extasies of wild Desire,
Together, Both one happy Death expire.

KISS XIV.

Why, thus (Impertinently-kind!)
To me that rosy Lip inclin'd?
No more thy Kisses I regard,
Neæra, hard, as Marble hard!

To Me those Kisses grate-less prove.
Those Kisses! idle Lures to Love!

That tender Anguish ill-requite!
That im-potent Desire in-cite!
Rack ev'ry Nerve with fruitless Pain!—
With rest-less Rage swell ev'ry Vein!—

Ah! whither woud'st Thou fly away?
Stay, Lovely, I ad-jure Thee, stay!
Nor me, that sweetly-speaking Eye,
Nor rosy-blooming Lip, deny.

Ah! yes! as all the Gods can tell;
As thou-thy-self can'st witness well;
Those Kisses, but too-gratefull prove.
Those Kisses! matchless Lures to Love!
Ah! yes! their pleasing Pow'rs I own,
Neæra, soft as softest Down!

KISS XV.

Th' Idalian Boy drew forth a deadly Dart,
Resolv'd to strike Neæra to the Heart.
But when he saw that Brow, so heav'nly-fair!
And, shadowing all the Brow, that matchless Hair!
But when those Eyes he saw, so heav'nly-bright!
Those Eyes! that beam with sweetly-trembling Light!
Those Cheeks! that blush with rosy-tinctur'd Charms?
Those Breasts! that might subdue the God of Arms;

Doubtfull, awhile, with Bow full-bent He stands,
That drops, at length, from his irres'lute Hands;
Then all-unfolding-wide his painted Wings,
With nimble Rapture to her Bosom springs;
And, childishly as on her Lap He plays,
Ten-thousand Kisses gives, Ten-thousand Ways.
Kisses! that on her swelling Lips im-prest,
Soft-Myrtle Juices breath'd into her Breast;
And Cyprian Sweets infus'd; a Balmy Store!
Last, by each God, by his own Mother swore:
“Never again her Safety to alarm!
“Never to meditate the slightest Harm!”
And do we fondly wonder, Cruel Maid!
(Wit-less, alass of thy Cælestial Aid.)
That all thy Kisses so delicious prove?
Yet all thy Acts averse to tender Love?

Cupid.

KISS XVI.

[_]

Translated by Mr. Ward.

Fair as Phæbe's silver Light!
As the Star of Venus Bright!
Give me an Hundred Kisses o'er.
Give me, ah give as large a Store,
As Lesbia to her Poet gave;
As She could grant or He receive.

One for each Grace, One for each Love,
That o'er thy Cheeks, and Bosom rove;
That on thy Lips, in ambush, lie;
Or shoot Destruction from your Eye.

As Many as the Hopes and Fears;
The bitter Joys, the pleasing Cares;
As the Extasies and Sighs,
That in Love, alternate, rise.

Give me One for ev'ry Dart,
Cupid has shot into my Heart;
For Each his Quiver yet contains;
The certain Cause of future Pains!

At ev'ry Pause sweet Talk come in;
Add soothing Words, and Smiles between!
To tender Murmurs tune your Tongue;
Each Kiss be soft, and sweet, and long.
Thus in the Spring, when Turtles woo,
They coo and bill, and bill and coo,
By Turns exchange their eager Love,
And with their Music fill the Grove.

Then dye away, in Passion drown'd;
And roll your swimming Eyes around.
Down on my Neck recline your Charms;
Softly sink into my Arms,
And sinking to your Lover say;
“Hold me—I faint, I dye away.”

Close I'll clasp Thee to my Breast,
In my fond Imbraces prest;
By one long Kiss's quick'ning Pow'r
I'll back to Life thy Soul restore.

When vanquish'd by the pow'rfull Bliss,
My Spirit breath'd into the Kiss;
Fainting away, on Thee I'll call;
“To support Me as I fall.

Eager, You, in your Arms shall seize Me,
And in your Bosom close imbrace Me.
My Soul You shall recall from Death,
And in a Kiss restore my Breath.

Thus let Us sport our Prime away;
Anst relish Pleasure while We may.
Age soon upon his sable Wing,
Care and Disease, and Death shall bring.

KISS XVII.

As glowing Roses show in Morning-Light!
Still wet with the refreshing Dews of Night.
So my Neæra's Lips, at Morning, show!
So wet with my Nocturnal Kisses, glow!
To Which her Fairness adds peculiar Grace;
(The new-fall'n Snow less spotless than her Face;)

And with delicious Change attracts the Sight:
The Red, conspiring to adorn the White.
Our ravish'd Eyes rich Vi'lets thus com-mand,
Sweetly-supported by a Virgin Hand!
Beneath pale Flow'rs thus infant Cherries please,
When Spring and Summer jointly deck the Trees!
But while the kindest Kisses You bestow;
Wretch that I am, such Pleasures to fore-go!
Wretch that I am necessited to rise!
While inter-vening Light un-veils the Skies.
Ah! keep for Me, sweet Lips, those purple Charms;
'Till Night return Me to Neæra's Arms.
But if to Others You impart the Bliss;
If You de-fraud me of a single Kiss;
O! may You ever lose your Rosy Bloom!
And Languor, paler than my Cheeks, assume!

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.

“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!”

'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!

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.

KISS XIX.

Laborious Bees! why all this fruitless Toil?
Why thus intent to gather pain-full Spoil?
Where blooms the sprightly Rose with freshest Flow'rs;
Where hoary Thyme perfumes the fragrant Bow'rs;
Where wide-spread Odors Anises diffuse;
And vernal Vi'lets shed Nectarean Dews.

Go! to Neæra's Lips, ye Vagrants, fly!
Those Lips will all your honey'd Stores supply.
Nectarean Dews, there, Vernal Vi'lets shed;
There, wide, soft Anises their Odors spread;
There, Thyme with Fragrance yet unknown, perfumes;
And there, the Rose with double Freshness blooms.
Steep'd in the Tears Narcissus lov'd too well!
Bath'd in the Blood from Hyacinthus fell;
Whence variegated Flow'rs were said to rise;
Im-mix'd with purest Nectar from the Skies.

But when again that purple Mouth invites,
Defraud me not, Unjust, of ancient Rights;
Nor from the tempting Sweets, Ungratefull, drive;
A Friend not useless to the common Hive!
Nor yet each loaded Thigh, too Frugal, swell;
Nor burst, too Covetous, each waxen Cell.
Those melting Treasures, ah! forbear to waste,
Ye Bees, or rob of their delicious Taste!
Lest when I seek, consum'd by fierce Desires,
In humid Draughts to cool my raging Fires;
I mourn (with joy-less Kisses ill-repay'd)
That e'er my Tongue the vain Discov'ry made.
Nor with your Darts her tender Lips annoy.
Trust Me, her Eyes with keener Darts destroy.
Each Wound sure Ruin on the Author brings.
Sip, Harmless, and restrain your wanton Stings!

KISS XX. OR THE EPITHALAMIUM.

The Hour is come, with Pleasure crown'd;
Borne in Eternal Order round.
Hour! of indearing Looks and Smiles!
Hour! of voluptuous Sports and Wiles!
Hour! fraught with fondly-murm'ring Sighs!
Hour! blest with softly-dying Eyes!
Hour! with com-mingling Kisses sweet!
Hour! of transporting Bliss, re-plete!
Hour! worthy ev'n of Gods above!
Hour! worthy all-commanding Jove!
For not a fairer-omen'd Hour,
Cou'd promise the kind Gnidian Pow'r!
Not tender Cupid cou'd bestow!
The Boy with Silver-splendid Bow,
And Golden wing; delicious Boy!
That Sorrow still allays with Joy.
Nor, wont at Nuptials to preside,
She, that of Jove is Sister-Bride!

Nor He, on tunefull Summit born,
The God, whom flow'ry Wreaths adorn!
Who, blooming Beauty tears away!
Bears off by Force the charming Prey!
From the reluctant Mother tears!
To the rapacious Lover bears!
Hour! long-desir'd! Hour! long-delay'd!
Thrice-happy Youth! Thrice-happy Maid!

Thrice-happy Youth! Supremely blest!
Of ev'ry Wish in One possest!
To Thee, the Maid of Form Divine,
Comes, seeming-loath, but inly Thine.
Such Form! as Juno's self might chuse;
Nor yet the Martial Maid refuse;
(Tho' That th' Ætherial Scepter sways!
And This the shining Shield displays!)
Nor yet the Cyprian Queen disdain;
Bent, to re-seek the Phrygian Swain,
And Cause of Beauty re-decide;
In shady Vale of flow'ring Ide.
How sure to gain the Golden Prize,
(Tho' judg'd by less-discerning Eyes)
She, in that matchless Form arraid?
Thrice-happy Youth! Thrice-happy Maid!

Thrice-happy Maid! Supremely blest!
Of ev'ry Wish in One possest!
To Thee, on Wings of Love and Truth,
Comes all-devote, the raptur'd Youth.

Thy bending Neck with eager Hold,
Thy Waiste, impatient to in-fold.
While, for that Hair of easy Flow!
While, for that Breast of Virgin Snow!
While, for that Lip of rosy Die!
While, for that sweetly-speaking Eye!
With silent Passion he expires;
And burns with still-consuming Fires.
Now Phæbus, slow to quit the Skies!
Now loit'ring Phæbe, slow to rise!
Persists, alternate, to upbraid.
Thrice-happy Youth! Thrice-happy Maid.

Spare, Youth, your Vows, vain Off'rings, spare!
Forbear, your need-less Sighs, forbear!
Lo! Time, in ever-varying Race,
Brings on at last the wish'd-for Space.
Mild Venus with propitious Ears,
The Sorrows of her Vot'ries hears.
While, Cynthius, down the Western Steeps,
Low-plunges in Iberian Deeps;
And quits, the ample Fields of Air,
To his Night-wand'ring Sister's Care.
Than Whom, no Light more gratefull shines,
To Souls which Mutual-love conjoins.
Not He that leads the Stars along;
Brightest of all the glitt'ring Throng;
Hesper! with Golden Torch displaid!
Thrice-happy Youth! Thrice-happy Maid.

See! where the Maid, all-panting, lies;
(Ah! never more a Maid to rise!)

And longs, yet trembles at thy Tread;
Her Cheeks perfus'd with decent Red:
Expressing-half her inward Flame!
Half-springing from ingenuous Shame!
Tears from her Eyes, perhaps, may steal;
Her Joys the better to conceal;
Then, Sighs, with Grief un-real fraught,
Then, follow, Plaints of Wrongs un-thought.
But cease not Thou with idle Fears;
For all her Plaints, or Sighs, or Tears.
Kiss'd be the Tears from off her Eyes!
With tender Murmurs stop'd, her Sighs!
With Soothings soft her Plaints allay'd!
Thrice-happy Youth! Thrice-happy Maid

The Maid, in decent Order plac'd;
With ev'ry Bridal Honor grac'd;
Thro' all her Limbs, begin to spread
The Glowings of the Genial Bed;
And languid Sleep dispose to take!
Did not the Youth, more watchfull, wake;
And, the mild Queen of fierce Desire,
With Warmth not disproportion'd, fire:
Taught hence, nor purpled Kings to prize,
Nor scepter'd Jove, that rules the Skies.
Soon for soft Combats He prepares,
And gentle Toils of am'rous Wars.
Declar'd, but with no loud Alarms!
Begun, but with no dreaded Arms!
Kisses! which, wanton as he strays,
He darts a thousand wanton Ways;

At Mouth or Neck, at Eyes or Cheeks.
Him humbly She full-oft be-speaks.
Intreats, “An help-less Maid to spare!”
And begs, with trembling Voice, “Forbear!”
Full-oft his Rudeness loudly blames,
His bound-less Insolence proclaims.
His Lips, with Lips averse, withstands,
With Hands, restrains his roving Hands.
Resistance sweet! Delicious Fight!
O! Night! O! doubly-happy Night!

Contention obstinate succeeds.
The tender Loves Contention feeds!
By That re-doubled Ardor burns!
By That re-doubled Strength re-turns.
Now ore her Neck take nimble Flight.
Her Breast as spotless Iv'ry white!
Her Waiste of gradual-rising Charms!
Soft-molded Legs! smooth-polish'd Arms!
Search all the Tracts, in curious Sport,
Conductive to the Cyprian-court.
Thro' all the dark Recesses go,
And all the Shady Coverts know.
To this, un-number'd Kisses join,
Un-number'd as the Stars that shine,
Com-mingling Rays of blended Light.
O! Night! O! doubly-happy Night!

Then spare no Blandishments of Love.
Sounds, that with soft'ning Flatt'ry move!
Sighs, that with soothing Murmur please!
The Injur'd Virgin to appease.

Such! as when Zephyr fans the Grove,
Or coo's, the am'rous-billing Dove.
Or sings the Swan with tune-full Breath;
Conscious of near-approaching Death!
Till pierc'd by Cupid's pow'rfull Dart,
As by-degrees re-lents her Heart,
The Virgin, less and less severe,
Quits, by-degrees her stubborn Fear.
Now on your Arms her Neck re-clines;
Now with her Arms your Neck in-twines;
As Love's re-sistless Flames in-cite.
O! Night! O! doubly-happy Night!

Sweet Kisses shall reward your Pains.
Kisses! which no rude Rapine stains!
From Lips on swelling Lips that swell!
From Lips on dwelling Lips that dwell!
That Play return with equal Play!
That Bliss with equal Bliss repay!
That vital Stores, from either Heart,
Imbibing, Soul for Soul impart.
'Till now the Maid, advent'rous grown,
Attempts new Frolics of her own.
Now, suffers, Strangers to the Way,
Her far more-daring Hands to stray.
Now Sports far more-salacious seeks,
Now Words far more licentious speaks.
Words! that past Suff'rings well-requite.
O! Night! O! doubly-happy Night!

To Arms! To Arms! now Cupid sounds.
Now is the Time for gratefull Wounds.

Here Venus waves the nimble Spear.—
Venus is warlike Goddess here.
Here not thy Sister, Mars, presides.
Thy Mistress in these Conflicts prides.
While close-ingage the strug'ling Foes,
And, rest-less, Breast to Breast oppose.
While, eager, This disputes the Field;
And That alike disdains to yield.
'Till lo! in breath-less Transports tost,
'Till in resistless Raptures lost,
Their Limbs with liquid Dews distill;
Their Hearts with pleasing Horrors thrill;
And faint away in wild Delight.
O! Night! O! doubly-happy Night!

O! may You oft these Sports re-new,
And thro' long Days and Nights pursue!
With many an early Moon begun!
Prolong'd to many a setting Sun!
May a fair Off-spring crown your Joys,
Of pratling Girls, and smiling Boys!
And yet another Off-spring rise!
Sweet Objects to Parental Eyes!
The Cares, assiduous to asswage,
That still solicite querulous Age.
Carefull, your trembling Limbs to stay,
That fail with un-perceiv'd Decay.
Pious, when summon'd hence you go,
The last kind Office to bestow.
Office! with un-feign'd Sorrow paid!
Thrice-happy Youth! Thrice-aappy Maid!

Venus.

Juno.

Hymen.

Helicon.

EPIGRAM OF Joannes Secundus,

To the Grammarians, why he writes Wantonly.

Why thus I sport in wanton-measur'd Strains;
Why Love, in ev'ry Verse, luxuriant, reigns?
To fright dull Pedants, learnedly-un-bred;
And Scholiasts banish, un-politely-read.
Shou'd I my Voice to mighty Cæsar raise;
Or tempt, of Saint-like Men, the sacred Praise:
What Notes (oppressive Weight!) must I indure?
What Comments, obvious Readings to obscure?
Expos'd, alas! to what un-letter'd Strains?
To Boys the certain Cause of future Pains?
But while on Kisses I imploy my Song;
Kisses! or moist or dry; or short or long:
Me, summon the un-married Youth to Aid!
Me, bent on Joy, the newly-married Maid!

Me, the gay Bard, whom lighter Studies please;
Wisely-indulging in delicious Ease!
But from these Sports, ye savage Herd, abstain!
These never with un-hallow'd Hands profane!
Nor turn to Grief, what we to Mirth design!
Lest, punish'd for some soft perverted Line,
Wrong'd Innocence, with Tears unjustly shed,
“Wish the cold Earth lie heavy on the Dead!

FINIS.