MY Goddess Lydia, heavenly fair,
As lilly sweet, as soft as air,
Let loose thy tresses, spread thy charms,
And to my love give fresh alarms.
O! let me gaze on these bright eyes,
Tho’ sacred lightning from them flyes;
Shew me that soft that modest grace,
Which paints with charming red thy face.
Give me ambrosia in a kiss,
That I may rival Jove in bliss,
That I may mix my soul with thine,
And make the pleasure all divine.
O hide! thy bosom’s killing white,
(The milky way is not so bright)
Lest you my ravish’d soul oppress,
With beauty’s pomp, and sweet excess.
Why draw’st thou from the purple flood
Of my kind heart the vital blood?
Thou art all over endless charms;
O! take me dying to thy arms.