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(Translated by George Ogle)
I O CHOICEST gift of heav’nly kind! | |
| O, sacred source of joy refin’d! | |
| Thou latent spring, whose vast control | |
| Extends throughout the boundless whole! | |
| Attraction strong! all-powerful cause, | 5 |
| Enforcing Nature’s hidden laws! | |
| Thou magic lightning, that canst burn | |
| What-e’er you touch, where-e’er you turn! | |
| Touch but the lips, and you dispense | |
| The brisk alarm thro’ ev’ry sense: | 10 |
| Come, hover round my tuneful lyre, | |
| And ev’ry swelling note inspire; | |
| So shall the warmth my strains express | |
| Thy rapture-giving pow’r confess. | |
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II To those, who own your gentle sway, | 15 |
| You darts of pleasing flame convey; | |
| Your kindling sparks, that ne’er can die, | |
| Blind Cupid’s burning torch supply: | |
| How dull the spring of life wou’d prove, | |
| Without the kiss that waits on love! | 20 |
| Youth first to thee its homage pays, | |
| Becomes enlighten’d from thy rays; | |
| And, hast’ning by your fost’ring fires | |
| The birth of all the gay desires, | |
| From youthful lips you soon receive | 25 |
| The richest harvests lips can give. | |
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III Far from the world’s more glaring eye, | |
| What crowds of wretched beings lie; | |
| Who seem in dull oblivion doom’d | |
| For ever to remain entomb’d! | 30 |
| To them no zephyr’s balmy wing | |
| Refreshing gales, or sweets can bring; | |
| No rip’ning crops of golden grain | |
| For them adorn the waving plain: | |
| Yet, thy persuasive magic binds | 35 |
| To this terrestrial orb their minds; | |
| And bids them, in their gloomy state, | |
| Smile, nor regret their piteous fate. | |
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IV The flow’rs, that in yon meadow grow, | |
| To thee their bloom, their fragrance owe; | 40 |
| The blossom’d shrubs, in gaudy dress, | |
| Thy genial warmth, thy pow’r confess; | |
| The stream, that winds along the grove, | |
| And courts the shore with waves of love, | |
| Is taught by thee the fond embrace, | 45 |
| By thee is taught each rural grace: | |
| On gently-parted lips, say, why | |
| Is plac’d the rose’s beauteous dye? | |
| Because, on that soft seat of bliss | |
| Abides the rosy-breathing kiss. | 50 |
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V Let rigid scruple furl her brow, | |
| And blame the comforts you bestow: | |
| The sage, the hero, thee obey; | |
| Nay, legislators own thy sway. | |
| See, threat’ning Cæsar mounts his car, | 55 |
| To join th’ embattled sons of war; | |
| Swift from the capitol he flies, | |
| And ev’ry hostile warrior dies: | |
| But soon he quits the bleeding plain, | |
| With transport hugs fair beauty’s chain, | 60 |
| And, e’en beneath his laurel’s shade, | |
| Caresses many a Roman maid. | |
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VI Could Mahomet, whose dauntless soul | |
| Superior rose to all control, | |
| Whose breast was fir’d with hope sublime, | 65 |
| Who thought that ignorance and crime | |
| Were destin’d o’er this globe t’ have reign’d; | |
| Could that stern victor have sustain’d | |
| The harsh, fatiguing toil of arms; | |
| Had not his houris’ soothing charms, | 70 |
| And tender kisses, lull’d to rest | |
| The martial tumults of his breast; | |
| If the seraglio of this earth | |
| Had not to those sweet joys giv’n birth, | |
| Which, in the paradise of love, | 75 |
| The prophet hop’d to taste above? | |
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VII But tow’ring domes, that strike the eyes | |
| With outward grandeur, you despise; | |
| There stormy passions govern sense, | |
| And banish tender feelings thence. | 80 |
| Say, couldst thou well-contented lie | |
| On lips with shrivell’d coldness dry, | |
| On lips, that no bright purple wear! | |
| But pal’d by sickness, or by care? | |
| The gilded ceilings, beds of state, | 85 |
| The gaudy chambers of the great, | |
| Th’ embroider’d cushions they display, | |
| Must fright the gentle kiss away. | |
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VIII Fly to the rural, shadowy dells: | |
| There peace in calm retirement dwells; | 90 |
| And, underneath the beech’s shade, | |
| Thy am’rous secrets are display’d; | |
| There, on the hay-mow, or the grass, | |
| Sport the fond youth, and fonder lass; | |
| There, unconstrain’d in frolic play, | 95 |
| A kiss they lend, a kiss repay; | |
| Pleasures so num’rous round them flow, | |
| Envy can ne’er the number know; | |
| Nor are the lips’ sweet joys deny’d | |
| By prudes, affecting virtuous pride. | 100 |
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IX Tho’ tempted hence your flight to take, | |
| My humble mansion ne’er forsake; | |
| To you if constant I remain, | |
| Let kindness recompense my pain! | |
| Around my youth fresh flow’rets shed, | 105 |
| Till age shall silver o’er my head; | |
| Then softly fan my drooping fires, | |
| And wake the half-extinct desires: | |
| So mayst thou, in thy wand’rings, meet | |
| Young innocence, who smiles so sweet! | 110 |
| And may she all-submissive prove, | |
| To thee, the guiltless guest of love! | |
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X So may the nymph of gay fifteen, | |
| By strict maternal eyes unseen, | |
| To some sequester’d grove retire; | 115 |
| There, reading, nurse her infant fire; | |
| Free from a parent’s stern control, | |
| Explore her newly-op’ning soul; | |
| And riot o’er my am’rous page, | |
| Soft-yielding to voluptuous rage! | 120 |
| So may sweet dreams of rapt’rous joy | |
| Her pleasing slumbers oft employ; | |
| Till many a fond, illusive kiss | |
| Shall almost realise the bliss! | |
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