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i Roses in breathing forth their scent,
Or stars their borrowed ornament;
Doth in a swifter motion run,
2 But if the angel which inspires
This subtle flame with active fires,
A life that cherubim would choose,
SPEAKING AND KISSING.
1 The air which thy smooth voice doth break,
soul like lightning flies; My life retires while thou dost speak,
And thy soft breath its room supplies.
2 Lost in this pleasing ecstasy,
I join my trembling lips to thine, And back receive that life from thee
Which I so gladly did resign.
3 Forbear, Platonic fools! ť inquire
What numbers do the soul compose; No harmony can life inspire,
But that which from these accents flows.
LA BELLE CONFIDANTE.
Whose pale, weak influence
And narrow laws of sense,
An immaterial fire,
But cannot emulate.
Or make the lilies fade, But all the subtle ways that death doth seek
Cannot my love invade.
Yet ere I go,
So wretched as to know
2 A faith so bright,
So firm, that lovers might
3 And crowned thy name
Whilst the shrill voice of Fame
4 This thou hast lost,
That my just aims were crossed,
5 And none will lay
But such as would betray
Yet, if thou choose
Affection may excuse,
NOTE ON ANACREON. Let's not rhyme the hours away; Friends! we must no longer play: Brisk Lyæus—see!-invites To more ravishing delights. Let's give o'er this fool Apollo, Nor his fiddle longer follow: Fie upon his forked hill, With his fiddlestick and quill; And the Muses, though they're gamesome, They are neither young nor handsome; And their freaks in sober sadness Are a mere poetic madness: Pegasus is but a horse; He that follows him is worse. See, the rain soaks to the skin, Make it rain as well within. Wine, my boy; we'll sing and laugh,
All night revel, rant, and quaff;
Till the morn, stealing behind us,
brains I do replenish With this draught of unmixed Rhenish; By thy full-branched ivy twine; By this sparkling glass of wine; By thy Thyrsus so renowned : By the healths with which th' art crowned; By the feasts which thou dost prize; By thy numerous victories; By the howls by Menads made; By this haut-gout carbonade; ; By thy colours red and white; By the tavern, thy delight; By the sound thy orgies spread; By the shine of noses red; By thy table free for all; By the jovial carnival; By thy language cabalistic; By thy cymbal, drum, and his stick; By the tunes thy quart-pots strike up; By thy sighs, the broken hiccup; By thy mystic set of ranters; By thy never-tamed panthers; By this sweet, this fresh and free air; By thy goat, as chaste as we are;
By thy fulsome Cretan lass;
This noble-minded patriot and poet, the friend of Milton, the