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FROM THE

Latin and Greek.

FROM BUCHANAN.

HAPPY the man, who, in thy sparkling eyes,
His amorous wishes sees reflecting play;
Sees little laughing Cupids, glancing, rise,
And in soft-swimming languor, die away!

Still happier he! to who thy meanings roll,
In sounds which love, harmonious love, inspire ;
On his charm'd ear sits rapt his listening soul,
Till admiration form intense desire.

Half deity is he whom warm may press
Thy lip, soft swelling to the kindling kiss;
And may that lip assentive warmth express,
Till love draw willing love to ardent bliss!

Circling thy waist and circled in thy arms, Who, melting on thy mutual melting breast, Entranc'd enjoys love's whole luxurious charms, Is all a god!--is of all heaven possest.

ΤΟ Α

NOSEGAY IN PANCHARILLA'S BOSOM.

FROM BONEFONIUS.

MUST you alone then, happy flow'rs—

Ye short-liv'd sons of vernal show'rs,
Must you alone be still thus blest,
And dwell in Pancharilla's breast?
Oh would the gods but hear my pray'r,
To change my form and place me there!
I should not sure so quickly die,

I should not so inactive lie;

But ever wand'ring to and fro,

From this to that fair globe of snow,
Enjoy ten thousand thousand blisses,

And print on each ten thousand kisses.
Nor would I rest till I had found

Which globe was softest, which most round;
Which was most yielding, smooth, and white,
Or the left bosom, or the right;

Which was the warmest, easiest bed,

And which was tipp'd with purest red.

Nor could I leave the beauteous scene,
Till I had traced the path between,
That milky-way so smooth and even,
That promises to lead to Heaven.
But ah! those wishes all are vain,
The fair one triumphs in my pain;
To flow'rs that know not to be blest,
The nymph unveils her snowy breast;
While to her slave's desiring eyes,
The heavenly prospect she denies :
Too cruel fate, too cruel fair,
To place a senseless nosegay there,
And yet refuse my lips the bliss
To taste one dear transporting kiss.

KISSES.

FROM JOHANNES SECUNDUS.

W

HEN Venus in the sweet Idalian shade, A violet couch for young Ascanius made, Their opening gems th' obedient roses bow'd, And veil'd his beauties with a damask cloud;

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