 | Poems upon several Occasions |  |
Upon a FLOWER IN A LADY's Bosom.
O Flow'r above all others blest!
Shalt thou insensible then rest,
On those white Pillows of her downy Breast?
In that warm Bed her Bosom lie
New purpl'd, and full blown with Joy?
Her Bosom that all Sweets does bear
That blush in Flow'rs to paint the Year.
Shalt thou insensible then rest,
On those white Pillows of her downy Breast?
In that warm Bed her Bosom lie
New purpl'd, and full blown with Joy?
Her Bosom that all Sweets does bear
That blush in Flow'rs to paint the Year.
169
Thrice Happy Flow'r, how blest thy State!
O might I once enjoy thy Fate!
Between the Sister-Paps to dwell,
And rove, and wanton there my Fill;
Between those little Globes be laid,
Twin-Globes, where Heav'n, and Earth's display'd;
Admitted there Love's Joyful Guest,
I wou'd not doze in thoughtless Rest,
But o're the Silver Field wou'd stray,
And restless wander ev'ry Way.
Her small round Breasts, and Neck embrace,
And Kisses leave in ev'ry Place;
On this white Ball of melting Snow
I first a Thousand wou'd bestow,
And as I kiss'd increase my Store,
By giving That a Thousand more.
Nor think this all—for I shou'd grow
So very Curious, to know
What Diff'rence lay between the Two:
And judge with quick discerning Eyes
How this did swell, how that did rise;
If that or this more white appear'd,
Or this than that more plump or hard:
Whether the Left round Globe, or Right
Did panting heave with more Delight,
Or with a brighter Orb allur'd the Sight.
If Right or Left inviting Sphere
Did in the painted Center bear
A sweeter Bud, or blowing spread
A liveli'r Blush, or deeper Red.
O might I once enjoy thy Fate!
Between the Sister-Paps to dwell,
And rove, and wanton there my Fill;
Between those little Globes be laid,
Twin-Globes, where Heav'n, and Earth's display'd;
Admitted there Love's Joyful Guest,
I wou'd not doze in thoughtless Rest,
But o're the Silver Field wou'd stray,
And restless wander ev'ry Way.
Her small round Breasts, and Neck embrace,
And Kisses leave in ev'ry Place;
On this white Ball of melting Snow
I first a Thousand wou'd bestow,
And as I kiss'd increase my Store,
By giving That a Thousand more.
170
So very Curious, to know
What Diff'rence lay between the Two:
And judge with quick discerning Eyes
How this did swell, how that did rise;
If that or this more white appear'd,
Or this than that more plump or hard:
Whether the Left round Globe, or Right
Did panting heave with more Delight,
Or with a brighter Orb allur'd the Sight.
If Right or Left inviting Sphere
Did in the painted Center bear
A sweeter Bud, or blowing spread
A liveli'r Blush, or deeper Red.
Now wou'd I, wing'd with am'rous Speed,
See where those winding Vallies lead,
Which op'ning with Luxurious Pride,
Those Lovely Hills, her Breasts divide;
Along the Flow'ry Dales I'd go,
To feast on blooming Joys below:
Where, like the Bees, fledg'd Cupids bring
The plunder'd Treasures of the Spring,
And form Ambrosial Cells, that hold
Hyblæan Drops of Liquid Gold.
I on that Milky Way wou'd move,
Silent as Planets glide above,
Till I had reach'd the Awful Throne of Love;
Where Gods the Cyprian Queen adore,
And kneel t' exalt the Goddess more.
See where those winding Vallies lead,
171
Those Lovely Hills, her Breasts divide;
Along the Flow'ry Dales I'd go,
To feast on blooming Joys below:
Where, like the Bees, fledg'd Cupids bring
The plunder'd Treasures of the Spring,
And form Ambrosial Cells, that hold
Hyblæan Drops of Liquid Gold.
I on that Milky Way wou'd move,
Silent as Planets glide above,
Till I had reach'd the Awful Throne of Love;
Where Gods the Cyprian Queen adore,
And kneel t' exalt the Goddess more.
Ah Sweet Ingrate! ah Cruel Fair!
How hard my Fate, and how severe!
If her coy Bosom I approach,
It trembling seems to fly the Touch,
Then shrinking back forbids the Bliss,
And shuns the bare Suspicion of a Kiss.
How hard my Fate, and how severe!
If her coy Bosom I approach,
It trembling seems to fly the Touch,
172
And shuns the bare Suspicion of a Kiss.
And can She then refuse to grant
A Gift so small to Me that want;
So very small a Grace deny
To Me that know to prize the Joy?
Who so great Freedoms does allow,
Who so great Favours does bestow,
On Flow'rs that neither ask, nor know;
Which nor desire, nor yet can be
Appriz'd of their Felicity.
A Gift so small to Me that want;
So very small a Grace deny
To Me that know to prize the Joy?
Who so great Freedoms does allow,
Who so great Favours does bestow,
On Flow'rs that neither ask, nor know;
Which nor desire, nor yet can be
Appriz'd of their Felicity.
| Poems upon several Occasions | |