The Poetical Language of Flowers or, The Pilgrimage of Love. By Thomas Miller. Second Edition |
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THE QUEEN OF BEAUTY AND OF LOVE. |
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 | The Poetical Language of Flowers |  |
70
THE QUEEN OF BEAUTY AND OF LOVE.
Fair Goddess, with heart-searching eyes,
In thy gold, dove-drawn car descend;
Lovely as when Olympian skies
Above thy braided brow did bend;
When Love upon thee used to tend,
And round thy sweet and matchless head
Did wreaths of richest Roses blend,
Blending the pale hue with the red,
Like cheeks o'er which young blushes spread.
In thy gold, dove-drawn car descend;
Lovely as when Olympian skies
Above thy braided brow did bend;
When Love upon thee used to tend,
And round thy sweet and matchless head
Did wreaths of richest Roses blend,
Blending the pale hue with the red,
Like cheeks o'er which young blushes spread.
Oh, visit us, fair as when thou
Sank on thy loved Adonis' breast,
With all the flush which on thy brow
Did at that very moment rest,
When feigning death, thou feltest blest;
The while thy rounded bosom rose,
As does a bird's within its nest,
Hemmed in with buds of snow-white sloes;
When kisses timed thy sweet repose.
Sank on thy loved Adonis' breast,
With all the flush which on thy brow
Did at that very moment rest,
When feigning death, thou feltest blest;
The while thy rounded bosom rose,
As does a bird's within its nest,
Hemmed in with buds of snow-white sloes;
When kisses timed thy sweet repose.
71
Come to us in a cloud of flowers,—
Around our hearts their sweets diffuse;
Making them like Olympian bowers,
Where pearly blend with rosy hues.
Appear as when, through morning dews,
Thou didst thy mourned Adonis chase,
And he (poor hunter) did refuse
To kiss thy never-equalled face,—
But struggled in thy warm embrace.
Around our hearts their sweets diffuse;
Making them like Olympian bowers,
Where pearly blend with rosy hues.
Appear as when, through morning dews,
Thou didst thy mourned Adonis chase,
And he (poor hunter) did refuse
To kiss thy never-equalled face,—
But struggled in thy warm embrace.
Appear as on Olympus' brow,
When all the gods in love were driven,
And swore, by thy cheeks' rosy glow,
That every heart was rent and riven—
That thou wert Love, and Love was heaven.
And that the regions of the blest
Were unto thee for ever given—
That he who sank upon thy breast,
Would never seek another rest.
When all the gods in love were driven,
And swore, by thy cheeks' rosy glow,
That every heart was rent and riven—
That thou wert Love, and Love was heaven.
And that the regions of the blest
Were unto thee for ever given—
That he who sank upon thy breast,
Would never seek another rest.
Descend as when on Ida's hill
Thou there didst win the golden prize,
When beardless Paris felt a thrill
Go through him from thy azure eyes,
Down-glancing like the morning skies,
When all the world in sleep reposes,
Saving Aurora, who doth rise,
And to the wondering stars discloses
The couch that's curtained round with roses.
Thou there didst win the golden prize,
When beardless Paris felt a thrill
Go through him from thy azure eyes,
Down-glancing like the morning skies,
When all the world in sleep reposes,
Saving Aurora, who doth rise,
And to the wondering stars discloses
The couch that's curtained round with roses.
72
Goddess of Love! it is to thee
All earthly happiness we owe,
All bliss that mortals here can see,
Who at the shrine of beauty bow.
Thou askest but a woman's vow,—
That we shall love until life ends:
Upon our lips we swear it now—
And by each kiss that here descends,
May Hate seize him who but pretends.
All earthly happiness we owe,
All bliss that mortals here can see,
Who at the shrine of beauty bow.
Thou askest but a woman's vow,—
That we shall love until life ends:
Upon our lips we swear it now—
And by each kiss that here descends,
May Hate seize him who but pretends.
| The Poetical Language of Flowers | |