[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]
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.