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 of the 
 
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 RE-ISSUE OF CHOICE ILLUSTRATED BOOKS OF THE 
 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 VIZETELLV & Co. have arranged to publish translations of some of the 
 most charming illustrated volumes produced in France at the latter part of 
 the 18th century. These works, so highly prized by amateurs, are distin- 
 guished for their numerous graceful designs by EISEN, MAHILLIEB, COCHIN, 
 MOREAU, LE BARBIER, &c., finely engraved on copper by LE MIRE, 
 LONGUEIL, ALIAMET, BACQUOY, BINET, DELAUNAY, and others. The 
 volumes will all be printed on hand-made paper, like the present one, and 
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 extra set of all the Engravings in sanguine (10 copies only), 63s. 
 
 THE KISSES PRECEDED BY THE MONTH OF MAY. 
 
 By CLAUDE JOSEPH DORAT, Musketeer of the King. Illustrated with 
 47 Copperplate Engravings from designs by EISEN and MARILLIER. 
 
 071 hand-made paper, 10s. &d. Wiihl sets of the page plates, one in black and 
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 DELIA BATHING. By the MAEQUIS DE PEZAY. Followed 
 by CELIA'S DOVES. By CLAUDE JOSEPH DORAT. Illustrated with 
 17 Copperplate Engravings from designs by EISEN. 
 
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 THE TEMPLE OF GNIDUS. By MONTESQUIEU, with a 
 Preface by OCTAVE UZANNE. Illustrated with 15 Copperplate 
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 and with Thirty Portraits engraved on Copper, 
 
 after the originals by Sir PETER LELY, &c., formerly in the Beauty Room at 
 Windsor, and in various private collections. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 THE COUNT DE GEAMONT: 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 THE AMOROUS HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH COURT UNDER THE REIGN 
 OF CHARLES II. 
 
 BY 
 
 COUNT ANTHONY HAMILTON. 
 
 Translated from the French, and thoroughly revised by the original edition of 
 1713, with numerous Illustrative and Explanatory Notes : 
 
 Prefaced by au account of the Gramont family and a Memoir of Anthony Hamil- 
 ton ; and supplemented by particulars of the after careers of the principal 
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 Edited by HENRY VIZETELLY, 
 
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 f.rrurwtl Jfuy? .
 
 THE KISSES 
 
 PRECEDED BY 
 
 THE MONTH OF MAY. 
 
 CLAUDE JOSEPH DORAT.
 
 Of the present volume there have been printed : 
 
 100 copies on Japanese paper, 30 of which are designed for the United 
 States. The remaining copies are numbered . . . i to 70 
 
 1,500 ordinary copies on hand-made paper, 400 of which are designed for 
 the United States. The remainder are numbered . i to 1,100 
 
 No.
 
 THE KISSES 
 
 (LES BAISERS) 
 
 PRECEDED BY 
 
 THE MONTH OF MAY. 
 
 BY CLAUDE JOSEPH DORAT 
 
 Musketeer of the King. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY H. G. KEENE, C.E.I., M.A. (OXON.) 
 
 AND 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH THE ORIGINAL COPPER-PLATE ENGRAVINGS AFTER 
 THE DESIGNS OF C. EISEN AND C. P. MARILLIER. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 VIZETELLT & CO., 16, HENT(JETT,4 STREET, 
 COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 85444
 
 98 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 IN the eighteenth century a perfect furore prevailed in 
 France for publishing choice editions of celebrated works, 
 more or less profusely illustrated with finely engraved cop- 
 per-plates, after the graceful if occasionally meretricious 
 designs of such well-known artists as Eisen, Gravelot,Maril- 
 lier, Cochin, Moreau, Boucher, and others. The first work 
 published in this style was "The Decameron " of Boccaccio, 
 issued in 1757, with illustrations by Gravelot, Boucher, 
 and Eisen. The great success it met with led to a very 
 general production of standard works in somewhat similar 
 form ; and not only were masterpieces, which had stood the 
 test of time, enshrined in this elegant fashion, but living 
 < writers sought to perpetuate their renown by issuing 
 
 their books in an equally sumptuous style. The poet Dorat 
 i~t 
 
 was the first to set an example in this respect, and the 
 
 ^j illustrations to his works designed by Eisen, Marillier, 
 
 H Queverdo, and Parizeau, and engraved by Le Mire, 
 
 jkt 
 
 Longueii, Aliamet, Bacquoy, Binet, Delaunay, and other 
 
 celebrated engravers of the epoch have always been 
 amongst those most highly prized by connoisseurs. 
 Bibliophilists have long competed for the possession of 
 illustrated copies of" Les Baisers " and " Les Fables," the 
 original editions of which nowadays command almost
 
 prohibitive prices. For instance, for an early copy of 
 " Les Baisers," a reproduction of which work is now 
 submitted to the reader, fifty pounds will be demanded, 
 and for " Les Fables," which are in two volumes, 
 about double this price will be asked. A copy 
 of " Les Baisers," with a few extra illustrations, and 
 with impressions before letters of several of the engravings 
 was recently priced in the catalogue of Messrs. Morgand 
 & Fatout, the well-known Paris booksellers, at 2,500 
 francs (or 100), while the Bonzon copy of " Les Fables," 
 bound by Derome, fetched at auction in 1875 no less a sum 
 than 16,000 francs (or ^"640). 
 
 Eisen's original drawings for "Les Baisers" and " Le 
 Mois de Mai," as well as Marillier's designs for the 
 " Fables," are now the property of Baron Gustave de 
 Rothschild, whose father, Baron James de Rothschild, 
 secured the drawings of the " Fables " five-and-thirty years 
 ago, before the fashion for collecting eighteenth century 
 works of art had set in, for the very moderate sum of 
 14,000 francs.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CLAUDE JOSEPH DORAT ........ ix 
 
 THE MONTH OF MAY ......... 19 
 
 HYMN TO THE Kiss ......... 45 
 
 FIRST Kiss: THE ROSES; OR, THE HARVEST OF VENUS. . . 51 
 SECOND Kiss: THE SPARK ......... 55 
 
 THIRD Kiss : THE BEE ACQUITTED ....... 57 
 
 FOURTH Kiss : THE NEW OLYMPUS ...... 63 
 
 FIFTH Kiss : RESERVE . ........ 67 
 
 SIXTH Kiss : DELIRIUM ........ 6g 
 
 SEVENTH Kiss: THE KISSER GUESSED ...... 73 
 
 EIGHTH Kiss : THE KISSES' RECKONING ..... 77 
 
 NINTH Kiss: THE HELMET ........ 81 
 
 TENTH Kiss : THE COMPROMISE ....... 85 
 
 ELEVENTH Kiss : THE BITE ........ 89 
 
 TWELFTH Kiss : MOCK MODESTY ...... 93 
 
 THIRTEENTH Kiss : JEALOUSY BAFFLED ...... 97 
 
 FOURTEENTH Kiss: ECSTASY ....... gg 
 
 FIFTEENTH Kiss: THE MORNING Kiss ...... 101 
 
 SIXTEENTH Kiss : FORGIVENESS ....... 105 
 
 SEVENTEENTH Kiss: ABSENCE ....... 109 
 
 EIGHTEENTH Kiss : IMMORTALITY ...... 117 
 
 NINETEENTH Kiss: THE SHADES ....... 119 
 
 TWENTIETH Kiss : THE FLORAL CROWN ..... 123
 
 CLAUDE JOSEPH DORAT. 
 
 THE second half of the last century was marked in France by 
 a sort of dayspring of democratic feeling. Feudal privilege was 
 still the lamp that shone in the places where alone the pleasures 
 of the mind were cultivated. But the favoured classes could see 
 through the windows of their palaces a crowd of toilers wan- 
 dering in the early twilight. The purpose of these crowds was 
 not perceived ; of their characters nothing was known. But the 
 keener spirits of the aristocracy felt that out there, in the 
 common world, lay a contrast to the artificial existence of which 
 they had begun to be thoroughly weary. One even sees this 
 turn for Nature dimly observed and a preference of sentiment 
 to the stronger passions, in the comedies of Goldsmith, and the 
 writings of Sterne and Gray. The conservative Germans too 
 began to show a yearning after what they took for " Nature," 
 and the chief product of that yearning was Werther. It was in 
 France, however, where the human mind is always liveliest, and 
 where classical traditions were then strong, that this pastoral 
 craving made the most marked appearance. Preluded in the 
 immortal fables of La Fontaine, the appeal sounded loud in some 
 of Voltaire's tales. The red-heeled gentlemen of the Court of 
 Louis XV. may not have understood the peasant as he came to 
 be afterwards understood by Balzac. A good deal of their 
 sympathy was bestowed upon wax-work of the Baucis and 
 Philemon type, and had no more actuality than if it had been 
 bestowed on shepherds and shepherdesses of Dresden china.
 
 CL,AU<De JOSBTH 
 
 The meaning was excellent ; the performance we may fairly call 
 " rococo." 
 
 The chief of this school was Dorat, a writer of whom it was 
 said in his own day that he was the " survivancier de Voltaire," 
 but of whom a more discriminating criticism can only say that, 
 if he had not tried too many fields, he might have been a French 
 Ovid. Claude Joseph Dorat was born in Paris on the last day of 
 the year 1734. His family came from the Limousift which, two 
 centuries previously, had produced another man of letters of the 
 same name, Dorat, one of the Pleiad, known in mediaeval literature 
 as Auratus. There is some reason for believing that the more 
 modern poet was of the same race. Dorat's father was a 
 councillor of the King and an auditor of accounts, and his mother 
 was the daughter of an advocate. He himself was intended 
 for the legal profession, and for some time studied the law ; but 
 at the age of twenty-two, preferring the sword to the gown, he 
 entered the first company of the King's Musketeers. He was 
 young, good looking, and well off, with a keen appetite for 
 pleasure. The musketeers were a gay set, and Dorat had 
 ample opportunities of indulging his tastes. His first campaigns 
 in the realm of gallantry were made in the company of a com- 
 rade named Alexander Masson, grandson to a grocer, himself, 
 too, a poet of the rococo school, and subsequently known as the 
 Marquis de Pezay. Dorat's military career was but of short 
 duration. His father and mother were dead, but he was 
 influenced by a wealthy old aunt, whose severe Jansenist 
 principles took alarm at 'his licentious habits, and, after serving 
 for eleven months, the young musketeer was persuaded to retire 
 from the army. He then formally embraced the profession of 
 letters. 
 
 One of Dorat's first literary efforts was an " heroic epistle "
 
 yOSSTH 
 
 from Abelard to Heloise, in reply to a similar production by the 
 poet Colardeau, the author of Astarbe and Caliste, who after- 
 wards became his intimate friend. As in those days every 
 disciple of the Muses was required to write at least one tragedy, 
 Dorat speedily turned his attention to dramatic literature, and, 
 in 1760, he tried his fortunes with a play called ZuUka, which 
 Crebillon the Tragic had taken under his protection and revised. 
 Zulika failed, however, in spite of, or, according to Dorat, on 
 account of, the old censor's so-called improvements ; and a 
 similar fate overtook Theagene et Chariclee, a second dramatic 
 effort which Dorat produced, this time without assistance, some 
 three years afterwards. Not only was the play unsuccessful, 
 but Marin, the then censor, was sent to the Bastille for having 
 neglected to strike out some verses which were considered 
 offensive to the king, while Dorat's mistress, the fickle Josephine 
 Dubois, who performed the chief feminine part in the drama, 
 cast her lover adrift in disgust at its failure. 
 
 Dorat was, however, speedily consoled, for he was a genuine 
 butterfly, ever fluttering from drawing-room to green-room in 
 search of some flower of beauty. He began by singing the 
 praises of every actress of the slightest notoriety, but as soon as 
 he quarrelled with them he sang their defects. In this way he 
 pilloried Sophie Arnould, La Guimard, La Clairon, and Mesde- 
 moiselles Beaumesnil and Dervieux, at whose shrines he had 
 previously worshipped. His partiality for banter and raillery 
 constantly got him into trouble. 
 
 In accordance with the custom of the time, he read his com- 
 positions in the salons which he frequented, whence they spread 
 through Paris. On one occasion, while he was reading a 
 poetical epistle on the Czarina Elizabeth, in Madame Necker's 
 drawing-room, Count Schouvaloff, who was present, took offence
 
 JOSSTH 
 
 at the manner in which the Empress's gallantries were alluded 
 to, and threatened to have Dorat clapped into the Bastille. The 
 poet, in alarm, apologised, and declared he had not intended to 
 refer to the Czarina, but to the " virgin " queen, Elizabeth of 
 England. In another epistle he twitted Voltaire for the alacrity 
 which he displayed in writing to everyone about anything, and 
 although Dorat subsequently expressed his repentance and 
 was formally forgiven, he never really regained the favour of the 
 old poet who, at the outset, had taken a kindly interest in him. 
 Voltaire was especially indignant at being compared to Rousseau, 
 " that low clockmaker's son," whom he roundly accused of base 
 ingratitude and dishonesty. 
 
 Dorat subsequently became acquainted with Rousseau, who 
 read his Confessions to him, a favour which he had so far only 
 accorded to the Marchioness de Crequi and the Countess 
 d'Egmont. The perusal, which began at nine o'clock in the 
 morning, lasted far into the night, Dorat, according to his own 
 account, finally retiring in tears "delighted, overcome, thunder- 
 struck," as he expressed it. Whilst others were openly 
 condemning the Confessions, he declared them worthy of the 
 highest praise. 
 
 At the age of thirty-six Dorat made his first attempt to secure 
 admission into the French Academy, but failed ; and though, by 
 way of increasing his claims, he steadily went on writing, all his 
 subsequent efforts proved equally unsuccessful, probably owing 
 to the occult influence of the patriarch of Ferney. In 1765 he 
 had published Les Tourterelks de Zelmis, in 1770 he produced Les 
 Baisers and Le Mois de Mai. Then he again turned his attention 
 to the stage, and at one time the Com6die Frangaise had no 
 fewer than five of his comedies and tragedies awaiting per- 
 formance. Reguhis and La Feinte par Amour, which were
 
 JOSBTH 
 
 produced in 1773, proved great successes, and Le Celibataire, 
 probably the best of his plays, was also favourably received in 
 1775. All the others, however, were conspicuous failures, and 
 this was especially the case with a dramatic version of the 
 Count de Gramont's Memoires, which Dorat produced in 1778, 
 after the death of Voltaire, in the hope of achieving a great 
 triumph, which would ensure his election as an Academician in 
 the place of the deceased patriarch. Ducis, the translator of 
 Hamlet, was, however, elected, and it became evident that Dorat 
 was not destined to attain the object of his desires. 
 
 Meanwhile he had for years been leading a very extravagant 
 life. He kept up a handsome establishment in the Rue d'Enfer, 
 constantly gave expensive entertainments, and drove abroad in 
 his own carriage and pair. He is also said to have spent large 
 sums to ensure the success of his dramatic works. At this 
 period he divided his attentions between two mistresses, 
 Mademoiselle Fanier, of the Comedie Fran9aise, who performed 
 the chief feminine parts in his plays, and the Countess Fanny 
 de Beauharnais, aunt to the future Empress Josephine. The 
 Countess is described by contemporary writers as having a 
 marvellous complexion, said to be due to art rather than to 
 nature, very lustrous eyes, and a splendid head of hair. Dorat 
 reigned in her salon in the Rue Montmartre, where all the wits of 
 the time were wont to assemble. Whenever he was in pecuniary 
 difficulties the Countess was accustomed to assist him, but 
 eventually Dorat found himself irretrievably ruined. His pub- 
 lishers failed, just at a time when he was anticipating a return 
 from the sumptuous illustrated editions of his works, on which 
 he had expended considerable sums, the best artists and engravers 
 of the period having been engaged upon them. The result was 
 that Dorat was compelled to have recourse to journalism for
 
 CL,AU<De JOSBTH 
 
 the purpose of gaining a bare livelihood. He became editor 
 of the Journal des Dames, but the proprietors of this publication 
 likewise failed, and Dorat then found himself penniless with liabi- 
 lities exceeding 60,000 livres, or between two and three thousand 
 pounds. At this juncture the Countess de Beauharnais applied 
 to Beaumarchais on the poet's behalf; and although Beaumar- 
 chais was unable to advance the sum demanded (30,000 livres), 
 he authorised Dorat to draw upon him for his personal needs. 
 The poet thus obtained some 8,000 livres during the last year of 
 his life, and utilised the amount mainly in pacifying his creditors. 
 Both Madame de Beauharnais and Mademoiselle Fanier showed 
 much devotion to him, not displaying the slightest jealousy of 
 one another, though it was currently reported at the time that 
 Dorat had contracted a secret marriage with the young actress. 
 This statement has been disproved in a recent work* by M. 
 Gustave Desnoiresterres, who, on the other hand, shows that 
 Dorat was married to a Mademoiselle Faures, by whom he 
 left both a son and a daughter. No Madame Dorat, however, is 
 mentioned by contemporary writers, and it is supposed that 
 the poet's wife separated from him, after a brief experience 
 of the joys of matrimony. 
 
 At forty-six years of age Dorat was merely a wreck : excesses 
 of all kinds had undermined his health, and his friends saw hirn 
 gradually wasting away. On the 2gth April, 1780, he had him- 
 self dressed and powdered as usual; and, seated in his arm-chair, 
 he then held a reception of his friends. When Mademoiselle 
 Fanier arrived, overcome by grief at sight of the poet's ghastly 
 countenance, she threw herself into his arms weeping : " You 
 have done my heart good, Fanier," said he, with a smile; " but 
 
 * Le Chevalier Dorat, 6-c., Paris, 1887.
 
 JOS&TH 
 
 you have disturbed my wig." These, it is asserted, were his last 
 words ; a few minutes afterwards he expired. 
 
 The poems here presented are favourable examples of Dorat. 
 The classicism apart, they abound in facilities and felicities 
 which can only imperfectly appear in translation. They also 
 show observation and amiability. To the true sincerity and 
 high workmanship that are the only sure passport to immortality 
 Dorat can establish no title. Sincerity springs from self-respect, 
 high workmanship from respect for the public ; and with neither 
 of these was the ex-musketeer largely provided. Still lovers 
 of dainty diction and elegant sentiment may care to turn from 
 time to time to the pages of a writer who knew how to be a petit 
 maitre without effeminacy, and an erotic poet without coarseness. 
 In an age which relished Cr6billon, Grecourt, and Casanova, 
 Dorat met with as much success as he could fairly have hoped 
 for. To the age that follows he presents a favourable example 
 of a corrupt but repentant period, whose repentance came, for 
 the most part, much too late. He is at least the best of the 
 rococo school. 
 
 H. G. KEENE.
 
 
 THE MONTH OF MAY. 
 
 "D ORNE by the Loves upon a throne of clouds, 
 Surrounded by the Graces' sportive crowds, 
 May comes from Heaven : Earth at her coming smiles, 
 And Ocean-waves creep softly round the Isles : 
 She with new verdure dresses hill and dale, 
 She from the face of Nature lifts the veil, 
 Restores the land, a fruitful flood distils 
 
 1 The poem refers to the month of May, 1770, and to the marriage of the Dauphin, 
 afterwards Louis XVI., with the Archduchess Marie Antoinette of Austria. Trans. 
 
 C
 
 THB eMO^TH OF 
 
 From sheets of snow that carpeted the hills ; 
 And, spreading wide her genial atmosphere, 
 With glowing blossoms paints the circling year ; 
 To deck her path the Sun, well pleased, delays 
 His heavenly course, and lengthens out the days, 
 Quickens all life with animating gleams, 
 Shines on the meadows with his mildest beams, 
 And breathes his horses of unweary wing, 
 To taste the odorous freshness of the Spring. 
 
 Month loved of men ! Month of delightful fire ! 
 With myrtle and with laurel twine my lyre ; 
 And, while shy violets lurk the lawns along, 
 Pan ! let thy pipe accompany my song. 
 Ye Dryads ! from your beeches hold alool, 
 With young Loves nestling under shady roof ; 
 These groups of Fawns, in veiled and tender light, 
 Their hands with boughs of new-born foliage dight, 
 The charm resistless of the season all 
 The lights and shadows of the woodlands call : 
 Shadows aid shyness, shadows shield the sports, 
 Fawns claim hid joys in Spring's sequestered courts ; 
 At your behest I pass these pleasures by, 
 Come ! let your ringlets on the breezes fly,
 
 THE cMOZ^JTH OF 
 
 Without alarm your amorous murmurs blend, 
 I am not enjoyment's echo, but its friend. 
 
 "Tis sweet upon the mountain-top to tread 
 And see the pictured plain beneath us spread, 
 Or follow, with the eye, through loopholed nooks 
 The shining labyrinth of wandering brooks : 
 How clear the sky, the mountain shade how cold, 
 How, one by one, the landscape's charms unfold, 
 Or hidden by some vaprous canopy, 
 With evanescent splendour mock the eye ! 
 Ah ! happy valley, earthly Paradise, 
 Where, wet with morning dew, the poplar sighs ; 
 Your hid retreats, your blest abodes impart 
 This melting calm that steals into the heart ; 
 My youth renewed, I stand in worship bent 
 Before the Beauty which you represent. 
 
 In days like these, stung by a fiery rod, 
 Man thinks the world a fane, himself a god : 
 Warmer the wind in sheltering thickets blows, 
 The flying rivulet sparkles as it flows ; 
 There the blue sky in shaking mirrors seen, 
 
 Takes from the shrubbery round a tint of green ; 
 
 c 2
 
 TH <MOy<rH OF 
 
 Bird-music from the neighbouring woodland pours ; 
 A harmony of scent is on the shores ; 
 And the wide world at last its life regains 
 From pleasure's sap that mantles in its veins ; 
 While Pales learns her treasures to produce, 
 Her germs reviving, with nutritious juice, 
 Whose influence, mounting with mysterious signs, 
 Already seems to stir the topmost vines ; 
 The bark grows soft, the bud assumes a shape, 
 And in the blossom lurks the clustered grape. 
 The new-born wheat -plants rise to greet their queen, 
 And tint the furrows with a tender green, 
 Nurslings of hope, how well their needs agree 
 With cares we owe to callow infancy ! 
 
 The watery signs of Winter disappear, 
 Respect, O winds, the cradle of the year ! 
 Nor devastate her incomplete largesse, 
 Autumn has fruits, Spring has but promises ; 
 A simple garland for his brow he ties, 
 And what he cannot give us he implies. 
 No doubtful auguries to-day we'll form, 
 Nor, when the heaven is clear, forecast a storm. 
 Lay hold of Joy, he flutters in your way,
 
 THS <&[OWjrH OF <&f*Ar. 23 
 
 Under the pines behold him, beckoning, play ; 
 He thrills the sky with vitalising beam, 
 Sounds in the grove and lisps along the stream. 
 Such power as his no false enchantment shows 
 Where shall my dazzled vision find repose ? 
 The lake where swallows skim on level wing 
 Those universal denizens of Spring ? 
 Or shall it haunt the roof of straw that tells 
 That want of want, not want, beneath it dwells ? 
 
 Behold the tenant of this rustic spot 
 Quit the dull shelter of his moss-grown cot, 
 No more he weeps, or weeps with joy to see 
 The happy issue of his industry : 
 Though, while he tills, another owns the soil, 
 He loves the produce of his useful toil, 
 His looks, in this bright hour in mercy given, 
 Bowed to the earth are raised again to heaven : 
 The blossoms of the morning see him count, 
 Once and again, surprised at their amount, 
 And tend his plants, more vigour to impart ; 
 The toil that bends his back consoles his heart ; 
 He sees the tools that harvest will employ, 
 And feels his hopes invigorate his joy.
 
 24 THS <&fOXiTH OF 
 
 O, ye who rot within your gilded graves, 
 In fancy blest, in truth but passion's slaves ! 
 Ye whose unjust and grasping avarice 
 Grudges the hind what might his wants suffice, 
 Despatch ! Sweep off the fruit of all his farm, 
 The roof of straw that shields his head from harm ; 
 Robbed of his goods by your barbarity, 
 Nature he keeps more blest than you to be, 
 And, without envy of your base repose, 
 How to surprise her waking instant knows ; 
 For him the morning, like a curtain drawn, 
 Shows the bright sky and pales the shrinking Dawn, 
 For him the year completes its circling round, 
 And bids the lengthened days in 'light abound. 
 Meanwhile his wife is busy round the place, 
 Who, if she lacks adorning, lacks not grace ; 
 Her cheek embrowned but ruddy, fresh to see 
 Like fruit that bears the Summer's blazonry ; 
 And, while his hand with unrelenting toil 
 Plunges his coulter in the yielding soil, 
 Singing, she frees the tender shrubs of weeds, 
 Or in clean ducts the freshening water leads ; 
 Cuts from the plants the parasites away, 
 And blames the shortness of the hastening day.
 
 THS tMO^TH OF tM<Ar. 25 
 
 Sometimes the children pledges of their love 
 Around their parents by the furrows move, 
 Copy their father's labours in their play, 
 And with weak arms to till the earth essay ; 
 Pleased with the sight the weary father yields, 
 And leaves with humid eye the unfinished fields. 
 The youthful mother too, forsakes her task 
 The cheap refreshment of a kiss to ask ; 
 And thus, between his children and his wife, 
 He feels that love has sanctified his life. 
 
 Why then, O Sybarites ot crowded towns, 
 Regard the humble labourer with frowns ? 
 The ancient Romans, race of conquerors, 
 Against their foes would arm their manly boors 
 By use ennobled, mattock, rake, and hoe 
 Hardened the hands that laid proud Carthage 
 
 low; 
 
 And such men, far from our corrupting arts, 
 Losing the rest, have kept their honest hearts : 
 When others fly to sin or slothful sleep, 
 These raise the harvests that the rich may reap, 
 And plant with profit even from the womb 
 The path of care that leads them to the tomb,
 
 26 THE <^fOyfJTH OF 
 
 But let us leave the fields of useful toil, 
 May decks with flowers a more sequestered soil : 
 Fairest of months ! thy welcome there is heard, 
 Blown by the West wind ; and thy sacred bird l 
 Rears to the sun the golden blues and reds 
 Of the starred circle that with pomp he spreads. 
 In these sweet gardens how the young shrubs lean 
 And interweave their boughs of tender green ! 
 The lilac with the wilding woodbine weds, 
 And mignonette with fragrance fills the beds ! 
 These gay compartments what skilled hand designed, 
 Adorned with blossoms of such various kind ! 
 To one the gardener's care must life impart, 
 One springs from Nature's hand unhelped by art ; 
 And, whilst I view the medley with surprise, 
 Behold ! a goddess greets my wondering eyes, 
 Like Hebe, in her beauty young and bare, 
 A simple wreath of jasmine binds her hair ; 
 Bright is her eye and light her graceful walk, 
 She treads a rose and never breaks the stalk ; 
 In shepherd-weeds she bears her like a queen, 
 With breath as fragrant as a field of bean. 
 
 i The peacock was the mythological attribute 01 May.
 
 THS <JtfOWjrH OF tMiAr. 27 
 
 " Once, in the fields where rules the Cyprian 
 
 dame, 
 
 I lived," said she, " and Chloris was my name ; 
 No gifts had I but rustic youth and health 
 The Golden Age begins in scorn of wealth 
 But chance perhaps, too, beauty gave to me 
 Rank with the gods, and immortality. 
 Deep in a grove, one flowery morn in May, 
 I wandered dreaming, till I lost my way ; 
 Zephyr came by ; my bosom shook with fear, 
 I sought to fly ; the amorous god drew near : 
 How can we baffle frightened mortal things 
 A god, endowed with youth, and wearing wings ? 
 Zephyr prevailed ; I yielded ; he unites 
 A lover's vows to Hymen's sacred rites. 
 This garden was my dowry, where the Morn 
 Sheds her first tears, and which my hands adorn ; 
 This fountain waters it ; eternal Spring, 
 Here, to my altar, earliest blooms will bring ; 
 If in these groves, I live the Autumn through, 
 Winter that drives it off brings garlands too ; 
 And in this blest abode, hallowed by me, 
 The Hours fly past, in bright embroidery, 
 And gather flowers from those ambrosial heaps
 
 28 THS cMOZ^TH OF 
 
 To fashion chains for Cupid while he sleeps : 
 
 The Graces, in their turn, their spoils prepare 
 
 To make the shrine of Cytherea fair ; 
 
 But all would be in vain did I refuse 
 
 To deck the garden with its blended hues ; 
 
 For, if the beds with tints harmonious glow 
 
 'Tis I that make the well-matched blooms to 
 
 blow; 
 
 From Hyacinthus' blood I form the leaf 
 On which Apollo writes his cureless grief ; 
 Self-worshipping Narcissus, by the streams 
 That drowned him, still to seek his image seems ; 
 To two poor captive lovers I showed grace, 
 Fate, cruel Fate, sundered their dwelling-place ; 
 Stifled by fear the moans of each of these, 
 Ere each could hear them, died upon the breeze ; 
 Till, when the concert of the flowers combines, 
 They learn the meaning of those silent signs ; 
 Helped by my skill their day in converse flies, 
 The rose makes question, and the clove replies ; 
 With modest hue the sombre violet 
 Declares their agitated souls' regret ; 
 The poppy languor paints, the lily truth, 
 The jonquil tells the woes that wait on youth ;
 
 THS e^fO^JTH OF <&f<AT. 29 
 
 Eloquent symbols of their sorrow, each 
 Some consolation bears them, barred of speech ; 
 My blossoms speak for them ; and that is how 
 With a new organ I their loves endow. 
 Farewell ! with Flora's smile survey the scene 
 And paint the month that owns me for its queen, 
 With pencil that in pleasure's service flows, 
 By Zephyr formed from wood of fragrant rose." 
 She spoke and fled ; the deity I knew 
 From heavenly perfume breathing as she flew. 
 
 Month loved of men ! and still to memory dear, 
 Even when summer's fullest gifts are here ! 
 Thy star accomplishes prolific feats, 
 To thee we owe such amiable deceits ; 
 The Nymphs of gardens and the Nymphs of 
 
 woods, 
 
 With those who bathe the willows in their floods, 
 To celebrate thy praise in chorus come, 
 The season sings, and how should they be dumb ? 
 Under thine auspices, one smiling morn, 
 The cruel god that men call Love was born, 
 From freshest flowers his earliest food he sips, 
 
 And roses' petals imitate his lips 
 
 D 2
 
 30 THS t&fOWjrH OF 
 
 For him the perfume and for us the pain ; 
 
 On the caressing hand he turns again, 
 
 In memory of cares received in youth 
 
 He wounds us ; such his gratitude and truth ! 
 
 Unarmed among the woods they saw him stray, 
 
 Laying his quiver and his bow away, 
 
 Nymphs ! wander fearless ; Love, without defence, 
 
 Would celebrate his birthday innocence ; 
 
 Naked and charming, beautiful and bare, 
 
 Without his bondage still you find him fair ; 
 
 Ah, foolish maidens ! dread a new surprise, 
 
 The fatal splendour of his unbound eyes j 
 
 Your hearts should, sure, be hardened to his harms, 
 
 When Love is naked, then Love, most, has arms. 
 
 This, too, the month which saw Dione rise 
 Out of the sea with laughter in her eyes ; 
 A thousand billows, fawning unreproved, 
 Round her bare beauty undulating moved ; 
 Some kissed the floating ends of her long hair, 
 Some danced and tossed their hollow shells in air, 
 While others bowed their heads in reverence meet 
 Proud to prepare a pathway for her feet ; 
 The supple Triton parts the foam, and tries
 
 TH6 SMOTH OF eM^T. 
 
 To modulate his awful voice to sighs ; 
 And, when behind her car the waters break, 
 Throws coral on the furrows of her wake. 
 
 Daughters of Tethys ! in the depths impressed, 
 Ye raise your brows on every billow's crest ; 
 But, seeing that fair stranger, in the main 
 Ye plunge your disappointed heads again. 
 O Beauty ! thou wast born where tempests sleep, 
 The wide world worships thee with reverence deep ; 
 Be mine to celebrate, with colours due, 
 The genial time that on thy cradle blew ! 
 
 Touched by thy light the hills new green have 
 
 found, 
 
 And caves with songs of happiness resound ; 
 ./Ether, becoming bounteous at thy calls, 
 Broods on the mountain, on the forest falls ; 
 And the wide plain, by thee in blossoms dressed, 
 Bares to the fertilising god her breast ; 
 By thee protected, in the grove are heard 
 The human lover and the pairing bird ; 
 All seek their mates, such is the pleasant fashion, 
 For all are kindled by a common passion,
 
 32 TH6 <iMOO^TH OF 
 
 Which in each leaf of every tree inspires 
 
 One general instant of instinctive fires. 
 
 Elm sighs to elm in evening's murmurous calm, 
 
 The palm-tree leans toward the neighbouring palm, 
 
 The poplar trembles, and the cedar seems 
 
 To murmur like a sleeper stirred in dreams. 
 
 Thus Hymen's chain embraces life around, 
 
 A new sense thus for mortals Love has found : 
 
 This monarch, this Divinity, that came 
 
 From Heaven, and boasting wings of quivering flame, 
 
 Surveys his empire with contented eye, 
 
 And feels the joy he gives, by sympathy ; 
 
 The world grows young ; Olympus, thrilled with mirth, 
 
 Communicates its happiness to Earth. 
 
 Behold the work, sweet month, thou lov'st to 
 
 build ! 
 
 The air, the wave, the branch, by thee are filled ; 
 And yet thy magic is more potent far, 
 As dear to friendship as to love thy star : 
 Crowned with his wholesome rays the sun begins 
 With thee to pace the mansion of the Twins, 
 Too mythic friends, whose form to fable known 
 Lives in our songs indeed, but there alone.
 
 THS tMOWJTH OF WtAT. 33 
 
 The faithful Tiber recognised thy claims, 
 
 Waiting thy signal to commence the games, 
 
 The victors in the Circus gained renown, 
 
 Thy blossoms blending with the laureate crown ; 
 
 The ladies gathered round at thy command 
 
 Where, on green sods of turf and yielding sand, 
 
 Virgins and Heroes, gaily interlaced, 
 
 Sounded their lovesongs and their measures paced ; 
 
 The Consuls' robes and fasces raised on high 
 
 Intrude not on the frolic mystery ; 
 
 And the sweet trifling that the season brought 
 
 Relaxed a Cato's brow of solemn thought. 
 
 i 
 Thy first-fruits round the temple-porches twine, 
 
 And decorate the Lars' domestic shrine : 
 
 With thee, Adonis, Love with thee was born, 
 
 And both their days thy coming still adorn ; 
 
 And yet thine influence and loving sway 
 
 And games of thine my Muse has dared pourtray, 
 
 The festals of Adonis and of Love, 
 
 And all thy glories, hallowed from above, 
 
 All are not worth the pomp, for ever dear, 
 
 Thy star prepares to crown the earthly year : 
 
 Fled far away those too tempestuous days
 
 34 THS <&fOW TH OF 
 
 When hatred blind blew up the fatal blaze ; 
 Driven to the North the lurid god of war 
 Torments our tranquilised abodes no more ; 
 Flanders beholds her lately- wasted fields 
 Bear the rich crops her golden furrow yields ; 
 The South's blue sky is free from cloud again ; 
 And discord left to those wild sons of men 
 Destined by Fate to be killed and to kill, 
 Vanquished or victors, miserable still ! 
 
 A solemn treaty from of old prevails 
 To reconcile Vienna to Versailles, 
 When Love whose counsel is too seldom sought- 
 Fresh vigour, for a tie that pleased him, wrought : 
 Vainly confined by cunning statesmanship 
 What worldly wisdom sows, 'tis his to reap 
 Child-master of the gods ! there wait thy care 
 Theresa's daughter and the Lily's heir ; 
 Glory to thee ! The one, beside the throne, 
 For signs of kingly grace already known, 
 Already promises as just a heart 
 As Duty gives while sparing Mercy's part ; 
 Ceres beholds a new Triptolemus 
 Trace a new furrow, in the field, for us ; 

 
 THE <^TO^JTH OF tMtAT. 35 
 
 Behind his back degrading pleasures fling, 
 And gather Autumn's harvest in the Spring : 
 
 The other But I feel my courage fail, 
 
 What portrait at her aspect would not pale ? 
 
 Rival of heroes ! skilled in sovran arts, 
 Supreme in war and empress of our hearts, 
 Earthly Minerva, whose resistless charms 
 Conquer the men escaped thy power in arms ! 
 She springs from thee Be words no further piled, 
 We mark the mother's virtues in the child ; 
 Let thy soft heart our hasty zeal forgive, 
 In her our longing country sees thee live. 
 When youthful Iris, herald from on high, 
 Suspends her prism in yonder vaulted sky, 
 With hue on blended hue transports our sight, 
 Consoles the earth and paints the clouds with light, 
 This airy pomp, this gleam, from vapour won, 
 Can but reflect the glory of the sun ; 
 So, when to gild our days you send the dawn, 
 She stays in your maternal breast withdrawn : 
 No ! Called by Hymen, she must part from you, 
 Your hand recalls her and your looks pursue ; 
 Flowers grace her footsteps ; faithful Zephyrs play,
 
 36 THE tMOWJTH OF 
 
 Triumphant Love, delighted, leads the way. 
 
 Not the plebeian boy whose blunted darts 
 
 At hazard flying lodge in vulgar hearts, 
 
 But the proud god whom round the throne we 
 
 meet, 
 
 Who looks on monarchs crouching at his feet, 
 Whose arrows, with premeditated stings, 
 Wound princes, heroes, and the sons of kings. 
 He gloats upon the treasure he bestows, 
 Winds in his presence sink to hushed repose ; 
 The clouds above his head dissolve in air, 
 And lesser Loves their company forbear ; 
 The mighty Danube seeks, by secret ways, 
 The Nymph he loves, as underground he strays, 
 His Caesar's daughter whom, on his fair banks, 
 He nursed in youth and watched her infant pranks ; 
 He cleaves his passage, and the Seine avers 
 She hears his urn that bubbles close to hers. 
 
 My heart anticipates the tardy days, 
 And its thought flies beyond the long delays ; 
 I seem to see the proud and happy Bride 
 Advance, with worshippers on either side ; 
 How blest her lover, privileged to combine
 
 THS eMO^TH OF <&f<AY. 37 
 
 A future throne, a present holy shrine ; 
 
 The charm that comes a second charm succeeds, 
 
 One grace still follows and another leads ; 
 
 All eyes united fix themselves on her, 
 
 Each eager heart its own interpreter ; 
 
 So, when a new star swims upon the night, 
 
 And takes the hemisphere with new-born light, 
 
 A hundred telescopes, with curious gaze, 
 
 Turn to the spot and watch the unwonted blaze ; 
 
 'Tis marked and studied, made into a sign 
 
 By all who fear to miss the transient shine. 
 
 Rejoice then, Hymen ! Is thy temple dressed ? 
 Aye ! with festoons thy lavish hand has blessed : 
 I see them, snake-like, round the columns turning, 
 I see the bright Twins o'er the summit burning, 
 An eagle bound by Venus there I see 
 Exchange his thunder for the fleur-de lys ; 
 I see thy train assemble in the porch, 
 And Pleasure wave on high her signal torch. 
 The Lovers wed ; Love smiles, and Peace prepares 
 To bear to Heaven their mutual vows and prayers. 
 Come skilful Joys, adorn their blest alcoves, 
 Bring magic arts to decorate the groves, 
 
 E 2 
 
 S 5 4 4 4
 
 38 THS <MOV(TH OF 
 
 Exhaust your gifts and with your witchery 
 Make Bourbon's halls the envy of the sky. 
 
 The sinking sun departs. One star has made 
 On the clear heaven a gleam of lighted shade, 
 And, proud to rise upon such true delights, 
 Has harbingered the loveliest of nights. 
 What sound is that ? The flashing cannon roars, 
 Fly not, ye Loves ! The thunder is not war's ; 
 The distant heaven with unknown fires is bright, 
 New constellations beautify the night ; 
 Yon rocket, which the night would strive to pale, 
 Soars darkling, to descend in sparkling hail ; 
 To please the eye yon snakes of flaming wing 
 Uncoiling hiss in many a fiery ring ; 
 The deathly element that wastes and burns 
 In harmless mood takes every form by turns, 
 Expands in sheets, leaps up in jets of flame, 
 In sheaves, in circles ; various, yet the same ; 
 Breaks into branches, forms a bed of flowers, 
 Or floods, a stream of flame, this earth of ours. 
 Then all is hushed. The gardens grow more bright 
 With lamps among the trees in steadfast light ; 
 The wandering Naiads of the brimming waves
 
 THB cMOOfJTH OF <&f<AT. 39 
 
 Fear to approach their incandescent caves, 
 And, wondering at the glittering of their reeds, 
 Count every point of gold that tops the weeds : 
 Vulcan, deserting his Sicilian rocks, 
 Surveys a scene that all his glory mocks ; 
 Yet, oft deceived and tutored to suspect, 
 Thinks it is Venus who the place has decked, 
 And that some rival to the garden came 
 To spread the glare and celebrate his shame. 
 
 How paint the palace where a thousand gleams 
 Through crystal casements send their brilliant beams ? 
 These shows, these sports, these miracles of art 
 That please at once the eye, the ear, the heart ? 
 All these young warriors who their country's hope 
 For honour from their monarch's presence cope, 
 This dazzling circle, ladies under arms, 
 Eclipsing all their jewels by their charms ? 
 But the clock strikes ; ah, welcome, wished-for hour ! 
 The Lovers are alone, and Love has power ; 
 Hymen has lit his torch, all others spent, 
 He scatters on the place ambrosial scent ; 
 Approach in confidence his blest abode, 
 And fearless hear the teaching of the god,
 
 40 THS <^[O^JTH OF 
 
 Who, now withholding, now bestowing light, 
 Enshrouds himself in mystery of night. 
 
 The West wind sleeps. A bird, till dawn of day, 
 Sings in the wood his hymeneal lay ; 
 With unfelt vapour earth is steeped anew, 
 The rosebuds swell and bloom in baths of dew ; 
 May, whose star watches the departing night, 
 Paints the refreshed parterres with morning light, 
 And bids the royal pair that sees them, say 
 " Nature partakes our happiness to-day " ! 
 
 O ! may Time's wing, beloved and sacred pair, 
 Your happy- shining Future ever spare ! 
 And" may the Fates, upon their spindles old, 
 Reel off your lives in lengthened threads of gold, 
 May Concord follow you with aspect bland, 
 With olive crowned, and palm in either hand ; 
 While Plenty, in the bonds of Hymen borne, 
 Pours you the gifts of Amalthea's horn ; 
 And, when Lucina, favouring our land, 
 Surrounds you with a blooming infant-band, 
 On tufts of lilies that their heads surmount, 
 The eye may see them, but the heart will count.
 
 THS 
 
 OF 
 
 Fulfil our hopes, proud of the Lover's name, 
 
 A hundred years shall find you still the same, 
 
 And may you then, in this august abode, 
 
 To which your early love its being owed, 
 
 Keeping the memory of so sweet a day 
 
 Still greet with smiles your Poet's month of May. 1 
 
 1 The omens which Dorat evoked proved obdurate. The soth of May, 1770, was 
 fouled by the loss of about a thousand persons, crushed to death at the illuminations in 
 honour of the Dauphin's marriage, which is here described in anticipation. The 
 subsequent fortunes of the luckless pair did but complete the reversal of the poet's 
 loyal wishes, Trans.
 
 TO THE KISS. 
 
 "DUKE joy by pitying heaven bestowed, 
 
 Lethargic matter's soft alarm, 
 
 Ah ! Nature's most delightful goad, 
 
 And most unconquerable charm ! 
 
 Keen flash that kindling where it shines, 
 
 By the red mouth's propitious signs 
 
 Awakenest all the senses' throngs ; 
 Come, flutter round about my lyre,
 
 4 6 THS J^ISSSS. 
 
 While your sweet frenzy throws its fire 
 Over the tissue of my songs ! 
 
 Upon the followers of your creed 
 
 You scatter showers of blazing darts, 
 Which, with their ceaseless sparkling, feed 
 
 The torch of that blind god of hearts ; 
 What would our youth be, wanting you, 
 To whom its service first is due, 
 
 From whom its forehead catches rays ; 
 And who, forestalling passion's slips, 
 Go, gathering on blooming lips 
 
 A foretaste of the golden days ? 
 
 Far from the cold world's curious eye 
 
 How many pass their wintry day 
 In a profound obscurity ! 
 
 Sadly they seem to pine, and say ; 
 " For us the untempered wind is cold, 
 And ears that pave the plain with gold 
 
 Our empty garners never bless ! " 
 You, only, tempt such men to live, 
 And, even in mid-most misery, give 
 
 To them, the clue of happiness,
 
 TO THE KJSS. 47 
 
 The flowers that deck our vales receive 
 
 From you their perfume and their glow ; 
 If you the boughs in wedlock weave, 
 
 Thrilled by your touch they learn to blow ; 
 The brook that brims beneath the shade, 
 The waves that on its shore are laid, 
 
 Are kindled by your breath alone ; 
 And why have lips, of pearly glint 
 Assumed the rose's vermeil tint, 
 
 But that they make the Kiss's throne ? 
 
 Vainly would primness take offence 
 
 At soothing gifts so free to all, 
 You hold in your obedience 
 
 Lawgiver, Sage, and General : 
 Caesar, when forced from Rome to go, 
 May threaten, clash against the foe, 
 
 Win glory's meed, and victory's praise ; 
 But panting for the prison of home, 
 Returns to court the dames of Rome 
 
 Under the shadow of the bays. 
 
 Arabia's glory-maddened lord, 
 Scorning the perils of his time, 
 
 F 2
 
 4 s The 
 
 Believed the globe could but afford 
 A stage for blasphemy and crime : 
 
 How had that ruthless conqueror 
 
 Supported the fatigues of war, 
 But that he knew full many a kiss, 
 
 Succeeding to his hour of woe, 
 
 Would bring to his seraglio 
 A counterfeit of Paradise ? 
 
 And yet you fear th' oppressive splendour 
 
 Of tyrants and their palaces, 
 Your sentiment, so light and tender, 
 
 Before their stormy passion flees ; 
 How could you build your pretty nest 
 Upon those lips, by thirst possessed, 
 
 By disappointment faded grey ? 
 Those gilded hangings overhead, 
 That proud alcove, that pompous bed 
 
 Combine to scare the Kiss away. 
 
 Come to the leafy woodland reach, 
 For there alone life's pain is quelled, 
 
 And there, beneath the -shadowy beech, 
 Your secret rites are duly held.
 
 THS f^ISS. 49 
 
 Upon a sheaf, a bench, I feel 
 
 That what I chance to give, or steal 
 
 Is never to a reckoning brought ; 
 And cold convention will not seek 
 Upon the village-beauty's cheek 
 
 To bring your privilege to nought. 
 
 But, whatsoever refuge call, 
 
 Still to my hut your smile accord, 
 If I have been your faithful thrall, 
 
 Be but your favour my reward ! 
 Scatter your blossoms on my way, 
 And, to old age's latest day, 
 
 Renew for me the joys you give. 
 So may you for your recompense 
 Ofttimes encounter innocence 
 
 Subdued to your prerogative. 
 
 Led by your law may sweet Fifteen, 
 Safe hidden from her mother's eyes, 
 
 Learn in my songs what kisses mean 
 As in her bed alone she lies ! 
 
 Interrogate her pensive soul 
 
 And to her mind reveal the whole
 
 5 
 
 THS tosses. 
 
 Of pleasure's tempting ecstasy ; 
 May she behold you in her dreams, 
 And learn to guess, from that which seems, 
 
 The sweetness of reality.
 
 FI<I(ST ZJSS. 
 
 THE ROSES ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE HARVEST OF VENUS. 1 
 
 /^VNCE on a time the Queen of joy 
 
 Into a thicket of the Paphian steep 
 Conveyed the Trojan hero's boy 
 
 Wrapped in a more than common sleep. 
 
 1 Imitated from Kiss I. of Joannes Secundus.
 
 52 THS pisses. 
 
 Upon the odorous turf where he was laid 
 
 She scattered fresh-blown violets as he slept, 
 
 And, bending o'er Ascanius, in the shade, 
 Venus beheld his grace, and Venus wept : 
 
 For she remembered, in her pain, 
 
 The shepherd of her too short summertide ; 
 " He seems," she said, " to live again, 
 
 So looked Adonis, sleeping by my side." 
 
 The name sent, hotly pulsing through her blood, 
 
 The fire whose motion multiplies its charms ; 
 
 Leaning, with breath restrained by fond alarms, 
 How often would she, in her melting mood, 
 
 Have wound about Ascanius' neck her arms, 
 Her eager lips with newborn passion red ! 
 
 Yet, fearing she might scare his sleep away, 
 Fell on the young buds of the rose instead 
 
 Which, thanks to her, shall bloom for many a day 
 Their freshness lures her and their scent deceives, 
 
 Till, in a mood more sweet than sane, 
 She lets her hand play on their dewy leaves, 
 Moistens her mouth with them, and half believes 
 
 The rose's kiss the kiss of her dead swain.
 
 rm ?(pses. 53 
 
 Then might you see the flame among them spring 
 
 To the caresses of their Queen, 
 Expand each blossom like a living thing, 
 
 And tint them as they, ever since, have been : 
 Not a kiss too few for any ; 
 
 Bounteous as the west wind is, 
 Venus, with half-closed lips, has given so man} 7 
 
 That soon there is not left a rose to kiss. 
 
 She flies, her harvest ended thus, 
 
 Her dazzling swans her golden wain upbear, 
 
 In the bright furrows of the azure air ; 
 She hushes the fierce sons of ^Eolus, 
 
 And the long days of -all the world are fair. 
 
 For, in the heaven her breath has purified, 
 That flying car has drawn a luminous wake, 
 
 And thence, with smiles, she scatters far and 
 
 wide 
 
 Kisses all nature treasures for her sake : 
 With these she gilds the woodland brake, 
 
 Colours the grain, the hue on petals flings, 
 Adorns the wood and meadow ; and the lake 
 
 Whose surface slumbers over secret springs.
 
 54 
 
 THS pisses. 
 
 Since then, all burn to mingle and embrace ; 
 
 From kissing came the bud of woman's breast, 
 A rose now blossoms in the kiss's place, 
 
 On which the kiss, exultant, loves to rest.
 
 SECOND KJSS. 
 
 THE SPARK. 2 
 
 ** 1V/T Y own fair mistress ! Give to me, 
 O give," I cried, " to me a kiss 
 Amorous, full of sympathy, 
 
 You will not dare refuse me this ? 
 How transient was my happiness ! 
 
 Your mouth do you remember, say ? 
 
 2 Imitated from Kiss III. of Joannes Secundus. 
 
 G 2
 
 THE 
 
 Scarce deigned my thirsting mouth to bless 
 
 Before you drew it, dear, away. 
 Even so a fiery spark is sped, 
 
 My joy came, and was banished thus ; 
 Even so the treacherous water fled 
 
 From touch of tortured Tantalus : 
 Your kiss escaped me, and instead 
 
 Its memory leaves me covetous."
 
 KJSS. 
 
 THE BEE ACQUITTED. 
 
 /^\N a sultry summer day, 
 
 Beside a murmuring rivulet, 
 Thais, shaded, sleeping, lay 
 
 In a distant wood's retreat. 
 The vaulted thickness of the boughs, 
 
 Through which the broken sunbeams played,
 
 58 -THS 
 
 Becomes a trellis that allows 
 
 A cool and solitary shade : 
 Thais slumbers ; wild birds close 
 
 Amid the leaves their restless wings, 
 
 And no throat among them sings 
 As if respecting that repose. 
 
 Instinct led me to the place ; 
 
 Nothing can baulk the lover's art, 
 If his love have given him grace, 
 What he longs for he can trace, 
 
 Trusting to his faithful heart 
 Thus prosperous in the love-led chase, 
 
 The fairy-dell I reach aright. 
 What greets my view ? My deity 
 
 Lay sleeping in a dream of pleasure ; 
 
 A thin veil thrown upon her beauty's treasure 
 Though modesty's concession it may be 
 
 Reveals the bare limbs in unstinted measure. 
 One ivory, but supple, arm 
 
 Under her half-turned neck was laid, 
 
 The other seemed as if it strayed 
 Above the inviolable charm 
 
 For the blest lover only made.
 
 TH 'ESS tACQUITTST). 59 
 
 Thais for jewel has the rose ; 
 
 Over her breast, in meshes fair, 
 
 The treasure of her golden hair 
 Down to her knotted girdle goes 
 
 That breast, in its captivity, 
 Chained by a vaporous bond of gauze, 
 Struggles against oppressing laws, 
 
 And seems determined to be free, 
 Till I grow weary of the pause. 
 
 Then Zephyr, with a kind surprise, 
 
 Lifts up the curtain that concealed 
 The object of my patient sighs, 
 
 And many a lily stands revealed : 
 The moment comes, suspense is o'er, 
 
 " O Love ! " cried I, " bestow thine aid, 
 Let Zephyr only breathe once more, 
 
 The rose, the rose, shall be displayed ! " 
 
 The busy spouse of Flora burst 
 
 The silken bonds that lightly twine, 
 
 One only does its feeble worst . . . 
 
 Slips open . . . gods ! what joy was mine !
 
 60 THE 
 
 The envious bar is broken quite, 
 No more withstands my longing fit ; 
 
 A new-blown bud confronts my sight, 
 And I have but to gather it. 
 
 On fire, yet fearing to advance, 
 
 Holding my breath , love's prisoner there, 
 But nerved, at last, to risk the chance. 
 
 One step I've ta'en a second dare 
 Press home my lip, in giddy trance, 
 
 And strike the bud to sudden flare. 
 
 I vanish. Thais starts awake ; 
 Her bosom palpitating hot, 
 She lays her hand upon the spot ; 
 
 Then, spying where a bee's mistake 
 
 In wandering from the neighbour blooms 
 A sweeter hunting-ground assumes 
 
 Than all the berried bowers could make, 
 
 " 'Tis thou," she cried, " hast made me thrill 
 
 So deeply with thy cruel bite, 
 
 But soon shalt thou be made requite 
 A pain that gave some pleasure still."
 
 THS 
 
 <AC$UlTTei>. 
 
 " Calm your just wrath," I cried, " and see 
 
 Here, at your feet, the culprit kneel, 
 "Pis I was the presumptuous bee, 
 
 Let me your indignation feel. 
 Thais, your pity sure is won, 
 
 If your soft nature you reveal, 
 A second kiss is sure to heal 
 
 The mischief which the first has done."
 
 FOUT^TH KJSS. 
 
 THE NEW OLYMPUS. 
 
 OTRANGE as it seems, the Lords of victory ,- 
 
 Whom swans of Tiber duly celebrate, 
 Born in the shadow of the laurel tree, 
 
 And the free air of their unmastered State, 
 The fiery Romans, thunderbolts of war, 
 
 Those demigods who made Creation shake 
 As skilled as we are now in pleasure's lore, 
 
 Established service for the Kiss's sake 
 
 H 2
 
 64 THE 
 
 From Grecian fable did this worship rise, 
 In smiling dreams, ingenious loiterings, 
 Whose creed admitted none but pleasant things, 
 
 Sweet heresies, adopted by the wise. 
 
 Ah, happy times ! when gods that Horace sings 
 Made youths and maidens bring them sacrifice : 
 
 When, floating on Desire's untrammeled wings, 
 You throned your charming mistress in the skies ; 
 
 And when the Naiad, with her brimming urn, 
 
 Taught murmurous reeds melodiously to yearn 
 For Syrinx, with the warm breath of her sighs : 
 
 And Lethe drowned your cares beyond return. 
 
 Then, Thais, every feature stood confessed 
 
 As, of itself, a present Deity ; 
 
 An open brow was Truth ; and there would be, 
 In kissing that, a sort of holy zest ; 
 Pleasure beneath the lilies of the breast 
 Lay hid ; and Cupid lord of all confessed 
 Kindled the eyes that flashed serenity ; 
 A hand devoted to Fidelity 
 The hand of a deceiver never pressed, 
 
 To gather from red lips the tender flower 
 And taste the perfume of a balmy breath
 
 TH 
 
 OLTcMTUS. 
 
 Might be to steal what Flora treasureth, 
 
 But it was paying homage to Spring's power. 
 
 Thus passion had its counterpart above, 
 
 And thus the kisses that, religiously, 
 The lover lavished on his yielding love 
 
 Became an incense for the gods on high. 
 Ah, Thais ! in this creed what joys I see, 
 
 And how in you I see Olympus shine ! 
 For all the gods my darling offers me 
 
 Shall never fear forgetfulness of mine.
 
 FIFTH FJSS. 
 
 RESERVE. 3 
 
 "IX THEN kisses nine you shall have promised free 
 
 Break your pledged word and give me one kiss less ; 
 Then, Thais, quick escape from me, 
 
 By disappointment feed my eagerness : 
 Behind your window-curtains crouch, aloof, 
 
 Or yon recess where none can penetrate ; 
 Under the arbour's leafy roof 
 
 Fly, reappear, and mock my angry state. 
 
 3 Imitated from Kiss IX. of Joannes Secundus.
 
 THS 
 
 Arbour to arbour then, and lair to lair, 
 
 I will pursue and track your flying feet, 
 Catch you at last, and hold you captive there 
 
 The chase of pleasure makes it doubly sweet 
 Defend yourself, resist before you yield, 
 
 Let me upbraid and plead, in vain, 
 
 Turn with a skilled defence again, 
 And let my skilled attack still find a shield ; 
 
 Sweet is it of such trouble to complain 
 The first eight kisses, all so freely given, 
 
 Will leave one asking nothing earthly more, 
 The ninth will bear my raptured soul to heaven 
 
 But most of all if struggled for.
 
 SIXTH KJSS. 
 
 DELIRIUM. 4 
 
 T T THAT joy is mine in this retreat ! 
 
 How sweet with her I love to be, 
 What blaze of noon is worth this twilight sweet, 
 
 Made on the turf by yonder branching tree, 
 Where love, long looked for, blossoms at my 
 feet, 
 
 And only love I feel, or wish, or see. 
 
 4 Imitated from Kiss V. of Joannes Secundus.
 
 7 o THS f^ISSSS. 
 
 Fair Thais whom I idolise ! 
 
 When I sink, love-distraught in your fond arms, 
 
 And clinging to your alabaster charms, 
 Lean on them as they fall and rise ; 
 When breaths are blended, and the appeal 
 
 Of heart to heart finds mute reply, 
 (Which, if I do not hear, I feel), 
 
 And the hushed voice has yielded to a sigh ; 
 When my inflamed caresses on your breast 
 
 Of rose and lily mix the colourings, 
 
 And when a thousand kisses cross their stings 
 By busy lips in alternation pressed ; 
 
 Then, in a happy mimicry of death, 
 My spirit leaves me in emotion lost ; 
 
 Like vapours you attract it with your breath, 
 Round you in hot fantastic wreathings tossed. 
 
 Reborn again, to soar above, 
 It spreads like cloudlet on a summer day, 
 Makes to your hidden charms its happy way, 
 
 And wraps you round in love ; 
 Bathing in dew your heavy-lidded eyes, 
 
 Weighed down with kisses for a little space ;
 
 Twin roses to your parted mouth supplies, 
 And ever lower seeks its resting place. 
 
 'Tis then my soul reviving cries : 
 
 " Love subjugates the earth, the heaven subdues, 
 Kings kneel, nor do the gods his yoke refuse : 
 
 Tears mix with nectar as his sport he plies ; 
 Despotic boy ! Yet Thais learns to be 
 Mistress of him. of kings, of gods, and me." 
 
 I 2
 
 SEVENTH RJSS. 
 
 THE KISSER GUESSED. 
 
 /^\NE summer eve when rising Hesper shed 
 
 Mild beams on flowers refreshed by cooling 
 
 shadows, 
 Beneath the thickest boughs soft twilight spread, 
 
 And seemed a guide for love among the meadows- 
 Thais, departing from her alleys trim, 
 Went forth to revel in the country free, 
 And ran to join a frolic company, 
 That waited for her by the river's brim ;
 
 74 TH6 HISSES. 
 
 Short-skirted ; and an air of negligence, 
 Without constraint, grace to their beauty lends ; 
 
 They interlace, their walk becomes a dance, 
 
 They skim the turf in gay extravagance, 
 And featly foot the grass that hardly bends 
 
 Souls by their purity debarred from care. 
 
 Soon as the dance was done, to sport they hied ; 
 A bandage over Thais' eyes was tied, 
 
 Behold her grown a Cupid, blind and fair ! 
 Now nearer come, their whisperings they check, 
 
 Their circle close is ever closer drawn ; 
 One plants a kiss on shoulders free of speck, 
 One on the hand, a third upon the neck ; 
 
 Each kiss, in turn, has lightly come and gone, 
 While Thais tries to guess each friendly peck, 
 
 Turning, uncertain as a hunted fawn ; 
 But ah ! what signifies this pretty play, 
 If still the lover's kiss be kept away ? 
 
 Yet snares are never far from innocence ; 
 I marked their sport, thick sheltering boughs between, 
 
 And forthwith longed, in mad impenitence, 
 Some of their harvest for myself to glean :
 
 THS t^isse^ gussssD. 75 
 
 I feel my eye flash, my heart palpitate, 
 And a new fire about my sense entwined, 
 Advance, retire, resolve, and change my mind ; 
 
 Love murmured, " Trust, and venture on thy fate, 
 Thais, remember, is not always blind." 
 
 Hearing Love's hest no longer would I wait, 
 But rushed into their midst precipitate, 
 Swifter than lightning on a crimson cloud : 
 
 The girls' alarm I tenderly repressed, 
 And catching Thais, with a hot lip ploughed 
 
 Three kisses like a furrow on her breast. 
 Thais was troubled she could hardly doubt ! 
 
 No girl could give such kisses as the last 
 
 Her heart beat, her flushed brow was overcast : 
 " Who is it ? " said they ; I feared she would speak 
 out, 
 
 But she was dumb ; a gentle shudder came, 
 My Thais ! on your heart, a harmless fire 
 Lit by the rays of my intense desire ; 
 
 Your silence only told your spoiler's name. 
 
 Night fell the season of benevolence 
 Veiling at once remorse and modesty,
 
 7 6 
 
 THE %isses. 
 
 Your voice might swear to punish my offence, 
 But, in your heart, the oath was sure to die. 
 
 Against my ardour your companions sought 
 To arm you, ere they left and let you be, 
 
 My bold assault to your remembrance brought, 
 That an example should be made of me. 
 
 So they insisted : each, I know, apart, 
 
 Was longing that the shepherd of her heart 
 Such a transgressor as myself should be.
 
 EIGHTH KJSS. 
 
 THE KISSES' RECKONING. 5 
 
 "DENEATH the bower where lindens cast a shade, 
 
 A hundred kisses once you promised me, 
 You gave them too ; but, the tale reached, you stayed ; 
 
 What number think you love's sufficiency ? 
 When Ceres pours her treasure on the land 
 Does she count up, O Thais cold, 
 The total of the ears of gold 
 
 She scatters with so boon a hand ? 
 
 6 Imitated from Kiss VI. of Joannes Secundus.
 
 pisses. 
 
 Flora gives, freely, harvests that perfume 
 Her flying path across the varied year, 
 And Zephyr keeps no register austere 
 
 Of roses that he makes to bloom. 
 
 When from the Zenith's glowing top 
 
 The cloud its moisture to our furrows yields, 
 Distils it drop by drop ? 
 
 It rather pours in torrent on our fields : 
 And, when Aurora lifts 
 
 Her opal splendour to sustain 
 
 Her undulating flood upon the plain, 
 Is she a measuring niggard of her gifts ? 
 
 Does she her pearly tears restrain 
 
 That fall upon the flowers in rain, 
 Or on the parched land's gaping rifts ? 
 
 Evil and good upon our human kind 
 The gods ungrudgingly bestow, 
 But you, my Thais, who were born to show 
 
 How Venus on her azure shell reclined, 
 You limit all your favours in their flow ! 
 
 The winged boy, endowing you, forsook 
 All stint ; and while his hate of it you know, 
 
 You keep with love a double-entry book !
 
 THE f^ISSSS ' 
 
 79 
 
 Cruel ! Have I, then, reckoned all my fears, 
 
 My sufferings and my sighs ? 
 'If you count woes, count you the joys likewise 
 But that would mix the laughter and the tears 
 
 Come ! take me where your beauty's pastures beckon, 
 Wound me no more by your unjust misjudging, 
 But give me countless kisses, without grudging 
 
 For all the griefs that I forgot to reckon. 
 
 K 2
 
 KJSS. 
 
 THE HELMET. 
 
 GOD Mars disarmed and in his hour of 
 . . 
 leisure, 
 
 In Cytherea's arms, so round and white, 
 His brow resplendent with the glow of pleasure, 
 
 Drank, with a lingering savour, love's delight ; 
 His soul, suspended on her rosy lips, 
 
 Far from the horrors that attend his march,
 
 82 me pisses. 
 
 Lost in a trance, his ardour in eclipse, 
 
 Reposed in peace beneath a flowery arch. 
 Some frolic Cupids tried his arms to wear, 
 
 While others, more attentive, wove a screen 
 With which they shaded from the noonday 
 
 glare 
 The couch that bore the War-God and the 
 
 Queen, 
 
 And with their breath perfumed the ambient 
 air. 
 
 The sky grows more serene, the light more 
 
 clear, 
 And pulses with a subtle aether ring, 
 
 While tinkling fountains, softly sounding near, 
 Mate harmony with music of the Spring. 
 
 All at once, the trumpet's cry, 
 
 Calls Gradivus to the field, 
 Cymbals clash and drums reply ; 
 Victory, holding high the lance 
 And the arms that brightly glance, 
 
 Points to his resplendent shield
 
 THE HSL<&KT. 83 
 
 On which, in syllables of flame, 
 Diamonds spell his fav'rite hero's name. 
 
 Mars read the word ; resisting then no more, 
 Makes him ready for the war, 
 Leaving, reluctantly, that fragrant breast ; 
 When, in his helmet with the awful crest, 
 He finds the nest of Cytherea's doves ! 
 
 Their beaks united in a tender kiss, 
 Their little hearts with pious passion stung, 
 They cover with their wings their helpless 
 young, 
 
 And dare confront e'en such approach as 
 his. 
 
 Their pretty wrath the god beguiles, 
 Two little doves defeat war's deity ; 
 
 Mars on the birds serenely smiles, 
 And, deaf for once to glory's summons, he 
 
 Returns to waste his hours in beauty's wiles. 
 
 At Venus's command the attendant Loves 
 Fling far the trumpet, confiscate the horn ;
 
 8 4 
 
 The ill-omened harmonies of war 
 That day are heard no more ; 
 And from the marriage of a pair of doves, 
 Peace to the suffering sons of earth is born.
 
 KJSS. 
 
 THE COMPROMISE. 6 
 
 r^ IVE, from your mouth so pure and glad, 
 Among these walks of sheltering green, 
 
 As many kisses, all unseen, 
 As Ovid from Corinna had ; 
 
 As many for no more I seek 
 As loves about your footsteps rise, 
 
 As beauties on your rounded cheek, 
 And graces in your sparkling eyes ; 
 
 Between your arms, upon your breast, 
 
 '> Imitated from Kiss XVI. of Joannes Secundus.
 
 86 THE %ISSeS. 
 
 Among your delicate dimples, play ; 
 As there are spells in all you say, 
 
 And all that may be only guessed ; 
 As many rays with fondness bright, 
 
 As many beams that search the soul, 
 
 As from your eyes that softly roll, 
 To steep me in love's languid light ; 
 
 Longings I scarcely dare confess, 
 Hopes in my heart that quickly spring, 
 Amorous vengeance threatening, 
 
 Signals of future happiness ; 
 As many as the murmurs sweet 
 
 When Spring delights, on wings of balm, 
 
 To brood upon the landscape calm 
 That tender turtle-doves repeat. 
 
 Then, if I faint before the test, 
 I'll sa)', a suppliant at your feet, 
 
 " Take me again upon your breast 
 And make my soul with yours unite 
 In mutual breathings of delight ; 
 
 With your own warmth my chill replace, 
 And, to my sinking spirit give 
 All the lost strength and will to live." 
 
 In a prolonged and fond embrace
 
 THE 0<M PROMISE. 
 
 The rapid moments let us seize, 
 Of youth that fleets so fast away, 
 
 Before time brings the sure disease 
 Of age's dull and cold decay, 
 And prudence darkens all our day ! 
 
 Ah ! Thais, know that pleasure's boon, 
 
 Bright as the birds, inconstant as the breeze, 
 Retreats before us like the one, 
 And like the others, in the noonday sun, 
 
 Withers, alas ! as soon. 
 
 L 2
 
 ELEVENTH KJSS. 
 
 
 THE BITE. 
 
 ! what folly can it be 
 
 That arms you, even against yourself, 
 And makes you, like an impish elf, 
 
 Repeat your evil deeds with glee ? 
 Cruel ! you mock my injured state, 
 
 And trifle with the poisoned dart 
 Which the winged boy you imitate 
 
 Has left to rankle in my heart ? 
 
 7 Imitated from Kiss VII. of Joannes Secundus.
 
 go THS %ISSSS. 
 
 Those teeth that throw into eclipse 
 The pearls of every Orient isle, 
 And give completeness to the smile 
 
 Which had its birth on Flora's lips, 
 
 Ought they to wound this mouth of mine 
 
 Which loves its homage to declare, 
 And sings your praise in sounding line, 
 
 Tender and true as you are fair ? 
 
 Do you not know whose lips it is 
 
 That to the sky your beauty raise, 
 And who, in every strain of his, 
 
 Unceasing tells the world your praise ? 
 That mouth to sing of you delights, 
 
 When daybreak gilds the Eastern hill ; 
 
 'Tis that alone which sings you still 
 In silence of the loneliest nights. 
 
 The kiss your eyes announce, my sweet, 
 Gives to these songs their core of flame ; 
 And, if the echoes sound your name, 
 
 Mine is the voice that they repeat ; 
 Its office is to celebrate 
 
 The tresses of your golden hair.
 
 THB 'BITS. g i 
 
 Floating in network delicate, 
 Or dancing in the wayward air ; 
 
 The mingled meaning of your eyes, 
 The lovely breast I worship so, 
 Where, as upon a mound of snow, 
 
 Love, cradled by the senses, lies. 
 
 Remember when I call you " Love, 
 
 Queen of my soul, light of my eyes, 
 My pigeon, or my turtle-dove," 
 
 Or any name that most you prize, 
 You owe it to the services 
 Of the same mouth you love to tease. 
 Think you to make its utterance cease ? 
 
 No ! It is ready to sustain 
 The utmost deeds of your caprice ; 
 
 So try your most tormenting pain. 
 
 Assaulted by the javelin-tips 
 
 That, with Love's poison you anoint, 
 It dares, upon your glowing lips, 
 
 To make more sharp each fatal point ; 
 Till, marked with many happy scars 
 
 Our amorous encounters' trace
 
 rue 
 
 Instead of bitter plaints and jars, 
 
 It yields new praises of your face, 
 Weaves for your charms a vocal wreath 
 While still your charms my love renew 
 Your locks in which the Zephyr plays, 
 Your breast that heaves beneath my gaze, 
 It sings your eyes and guilty teeth 
 Which made its pain and pleasure too.
 
 TWELFTH %ISS. 
 
 MOCK MODESTY. 8 
 
 TX7HEREFORE, O matrons too severe, 
 
 At my free speech such clamour raise, 
 Wherefore, O damsels dull of cheer, 
 
 Affect to dread my simple lays ? 
 Have I expressed the stormy guise 
 Of passions out of love that rise ? 
 
 Imitated from Kiss XII. of Joannes Secundus.
 
 94 THE 
 
 No : I describe the soft delights 
 That you pretend you do not miss, 
 
 The riches of Love's errant knights, 
 And the sweet secret of the kiss. 
 
 My unrestrained and hasty pen 
 Writes only what a lover feels, 
 
 And meditates no lewdness then 
 When with the sentiments it deals. 
 
 What rosy blushes, unforeseen ! 
 
 What leisure marred by vixen noise ! 
 As with your angry hands you screen 
 
 Your vision from the page of joys ! 
 
 Scoffers ! at love who take offence 
 
 And whom your neighbours' gains dis- 
 tress, 
 
 Know, shyness has its impudence, 
 And the poor kiss its harmlessness. 
 
 Depart from hence; be far from us, 
 
 Approach no more my darling's charms, 
 Or when she folds me in her arms, 
 
 Or when, in transport amorous,
 
 95 
 
 My sympathetic soul she warms : 
 Purer than you I find her thus. 
 The zeal for virtue in your look 
 
 Is but a momentary mask, 
 And that which shocks you in a book 
 
 Is that for which in man you ask. 
 
 M 2
 
 THIRTEENTH %ISS. 
 
 JEALOUSY BAFFLED. 9 
 
 OTILL let us love, soul of my life ! 
 
 While still in love's propitious stage ; 
 What signifies the critic strife 
 
 Of Envy and exhausted Age ? 
 Days come and go, upon Time's diadem, 
 
 And when no longer we his care employ 
 Our day will vanish like a fallen, gem. 
 
 Imitated from Catullus.
 
 9 8 
 
 THE. pisses. 
 
 Come to my arms ! I love you, I adore, 
 Let us be borne on passion's tide for ever ! 
 
 Kiss me a thousand times ; a thousand more, 
 And still another thousand, sundering never 
 
 And let us be so proud of Love's sweet bond 
 
 And blend our kisses in a guise so fond 
 
 That Jealousy shall fail to count them ever.
 
 FOURTEENTH KJSS. 
 
 ECSTASY. 10 
 
 T3EHOLD, my Thais, how the amorous vines 
 
 Embrace the shrubs that they are set beneath, 
 And how the clinging ivy twines 
 
 About the elm her twisted wreath ; 
 Let your fond arms enlace, 
 
 Clasp me, and twine about me so, 
 And I, in turn, embrace 
 
 And press your form with such a fiery glow 
 
 10 Imitated from Kiss II. of Joannes Secundus.
 
 THE pisses. 
 
 That round my love a hundred ties may go, 
 Until at last we both reposing lie 
 In pleasure's final ecstasy, 
 
 And the warm peace that happy lovers know. 
 Ah ! then, my Thais, not the laughing wine 
 
 That crowns the cup in gay contempt of Fate, 
 
 Nor kingly purple, nor the pomps of state 
 Would serve to win me from those lips divine : 
 When jo} 1 its rapture shall assuage 
 
 With moist, intoxicated eye, 
 
 And we, with a contented sigh 
 Reach pleasure's final stage, 
 
 Then the same boat might bear 
 Without a struggle two poor lovers dight 
 
 For Pluto's shore ; and we be there 
 Before we could be conscious of the flight.
 
 FIFTEENTH KJSS. 
 
 THE MORNING KISS. 
 
 stars in heaven were not yet hid, 
 And scarce the dim and doubtful ray, 
 Opened fair Flora's languid lid 
 As in her lovely arms she held 
 The traitor who her love compelled 
 
 Touched it with light, and sped away 
 On the moist pinion of the breeze, 
 From which the skies their freshness take ;
 
 TUB pisses. 
 
 Sighed through the garden's greeneries, 
 And hurried through the woods, to make 
 The song-birds vocal in the trees, 
 And Nature from her sleep awake. 
 
 I saw your deep repose with joy, 
 After a happy-omened night 
 Which we had consecrated quite 
 
 To Cupid's amorous employ ; 
 
 And, watching o'er you, bent to bless 
 
 The sighs, whose meaning well I know, 
 Warm me with hidden tenderness 
 And kneel to worship and confess 
 
 What happinesa to you I owe. 
 
 The golden ringlets of your hair 
 
 Lie floating loose, at hazard thrown, 
 And their abundance veils alone 
 The charms that, but for them, were bare 
 Upon your brow I see the hush 
 Of satisfaction's joyous rest, 
 And, on your softly-heaving breast, 
 The glow of pleasure's sunset flush : 
 So, sometimes, when the storm is passed, 
 And, in its caves, exhausted sleeps,
 
 THS cMO^NINg KJSS. 103 
 
 Lily and rose, in perfumed heaps, 
 Upon the garden-turf are cast. 
 
 Your mouth, where Love, with pen of flame, 
 
 An image of his bow had drawn 
 
 In tints as tender as the dawn, 
 Seems opening to pronounce my name ; 
 And your soft arms, which to my sense 
 
 Of passion's instinct gently speak, 
 Are sometimes stretched in negligence 
 
 As if your lover they would seek. 
 
 Yet Venus on the fading night 
 
 Less brightly burns her point of steel, 
 
 And each degree of gathering light 
 Some new-born beauty will reveal. 
 
 On all the treasures that I mark 
 Left to my eager eyes a prey 
 Enchantment-struck, I let them stray, 
 
 And score in kisses how the dark 
 Is yielding to the morning ray ; 
 
 And as the horizon slowly seems 
 Enkindled by that ray to be, 
 
 The flame upon my bosom streams, 
 
 N 2
 
 104 
 
 7HS 
 
 Till every kiss appears to me 
 To add one more to day's young beams. 
 
 I sought to greet its coming ; nay, 
 
 Pale though the night's ten thousand suns, 
 Your sweet eyes opened all at once, 
 
 'Twas you, I found, had brought my day.
 
 SIXTEENTH 
 
 FORGIVENESS. 
 
 T OVE can avenge a violated truth ; 
 
 I proved it so one memorable day 
 (And that was once too often), led astray 
 
 By a fair charmer, in the bloom of youth. 
 
 Escaped from her, when half the night had flown, 
 And when the deepest shadows of its wings 
 Had almost hid the starlight's quiverings, 
 
 I ventured homeward, silent and alone.
 
 io6 THE J^ISSSS. 
 
 The restless air that murmured in the trees 
 Struck me with terror 1 could scarce restrain 
 
 For he alone is bold whose conscience is at 
 ease 
 
 So I crept on, with fancies such as these, 
 More like a criminal than a happy swain ; 
 
 When, just as I had reached my dwelling-place, 
 Some children stood to bar my passage there, 
 So suddenly I knew not what they were : 
 
 Their forms were bare, and one thrust in my face 
 A torch by light of which they all could stare, 
 
 And wave their nets and flout at my disgrace : 
 Till one, who seemed more fierce than all the rest, 
 
 Exclaimed : " 'Tis he, 'tis he ; make sure of him ! 
 
 Bring him along ; Thais, in humour grim, 
 Has lodged a plaint, her wrong must be redressed. 
 
 How easily a rogue is recognised 
 
 By his imbecile bearing when surprised ! 
 What, is it you, adventurer of the night ? 
 
 While your deserted Thais watches thus, 
 With favouring panoply of darkness dight, 
 
 You thought to hide your base pursuit from us ! 
 But no : without reprieve the wretch shall die 
 Who fills with tears that lovely lady's eye,
 
 107 
 
 And keeps her watching at the very time 
 
 He dedicated to his shameful crime, 
 She who deserved a better love than his, 
 
 Thais who glows like dawning summer days, 
 And never yields a breath, in bale or bliss, 
 
 But at Love's altar fragrant tribute pays." 
 
 After these words of his, the pigmy band 
 Catch up their darts, put fetters on my feet, 
 
 Bind manacles upon my restive hand, 
 
 And knotted bonds about my limbs repeat. 
 
 " Nay, but," cries one, " he surely may have grace, 
 If penitently, he by Love shall swear 
 To love, and always love, his faithful fair, 
 
 Is there a crime such oath will not efface ? 
 Another time remember," whispered he, 
 
 " When day withdraws its all-revealing light, 
 Do not assume a wanton liberty, 
 
 But stay at home, be sure, the livelong night ! " 
 
 Her eyes, that all Love's stratagems employ, 
 Though full of tears were sparkling too with joy ; 
 Led by remorse to you, released, I came, 
 
 Thais ! you seemed to know the shameful past,
 
 io8 
 
 THE pisses. 
 
 And loaded me with menaces and blame, 
 Awhile ; and yet relented at the last : 
 
 I felt your gentle bosom palpitate 
 Beneath the pressure of my .culprit hand ; 
 
 We were alone, I grew more passionate, 
 And yielding Thais made me understand 
 
 The pardon I had hardly dared to guess ; 
 And taught me so to use the happy time 
 I scarce reproached myself for any crime 
 
 That brought with it such sweet forgiveness.
 
 KJSS. 
 
 
 ABSENCE. 
 
 'TIME'S wings, for me, seem folded, dear! 
 His aged footsteps tottering stay ; 
 
 My days flew fast when you were here, 
 They linger now, when you're away. 
 
 The sun in heaven is marching slow, 
 That fatal hour is still with me 
 When, in the laughing company 
 
 Of all the Loves, I saw you go : 
 
 Some, at the door, with tender care,
 
 THE pisses. 
 
 Let down the blinds against the noon 
 As if to intercept the glare 
 
 And penetrating gaze of June ; 
 Others obedient, anxious, things 
 
 With patient brow but eager eye 
 
 The languid breezes multiply 
 With beatings of their little wings ; 
 
 While, in advance of all the swarm 
 That your attendant Cupids form, 
 
 The rest advance in van ward flight, 
 To view, and make secure and warm, 
 
 The bower where you must rest at night. 
 
 But I, deprived of all my good, 
 Await alone the dreary morrow, 
 And none, except the god of sorrow, 
 
 Remains to cheer my solitude. 
 
 But like the callow nestling left, 
 
 When, orphaned by the fowler's snare, 
 
 He learns to loathe his native cleft, 
 Dear whilst his mother's wing was there, 
 And flutters on the moorland bare 
 
 So of your presence when bereft, 
 
 Your lover eats his heart away, 
 
 And all his wishes veer and stray
 
 Lost in a labyrinth of despair. 
 So have I seen a child, in play, 
 
 Making a bit of mirror flare 
 Against the steadfast beam of day ; 
 And as, with change unplanned, the boy 
 
 With rapid ringers made it dance, 
 
 The quivering flashes quickly glance 
 Thrown by the movement of the toy 
 
 Upon the palace-terraces ; 
 Now on the garden-frames they smite, 
 And now, with sudden leap, alight 
 
 Upon the tops of neighbouring trees ; 
 From object thus to object cast, 
 
 As quick to tumble as to rise, 
 Their blazon shines and fades so fast 
 
 That no one can the flight surprise. 
 
 Thus is my passion raised and bowed, 
 
 Once tranquilised, by you alone, 
 And I am but a wandering cloud, 
 
 And all my happiness is flown. 
 No more for me the jocund earth 
 
 With rustic merrymaking thrills, 
 Where one wild pipe in simple mirth 
 
 Beneath the boughs its drone distils, 
 
 o 2
 
 rm pisses. 
 
 Nor shepherds gather, armed with crooks, 
 About the sloping of the hills, 
 Where lapsing water brims and spills 
 
 The abundance of the limpid brooks 
 Upon the fringing turf, and fills 
 
 The margin blanks with flowery nooks. 
 
 When you are absent Nature mourns, 
 The pleasures vanish from the vale, 
 And softly-breathing Zephyr turns 
 
 Into an equinoctial gale ; 
 
 And, in the most sequestered grot, 
 
 I search for what I never meet, 
 
 Spring that was born around your feet, 
 And seems to die where you are not. 
 
 What may your occupation be ? 
 
 Far from the world that courts you, laid 
 
 In some green arbour's secret shade, 
 Have you retired, to dream of me ? 
 
 Though storms awake and winds be high, 
 And frowning Providence ordain 
 We break, for once, our rosy chain, 
 
 At least we render sigh for sigh.
 
 But if, while thus my thoughts are bent, 
 A treacherous rival at your knee. . . 
 
 I shudder, and in shame repent, 
 Such doubt an insult, sure, must be, 
 And your unstained fidelity 
 
 Must make my fitting punishment. 
 
 I envy all you hear or see ; 
 
 The butterfly that shares your path ; 
 The elm, your tall, protecting tree ; 
 
 The stream in which you take your bath ; 
 The glass whose look you often seek ; 
 
 And not to make the tale too long 
 Though your canary does not speak, 
 
 I'm jealous of his amorous song. 
 
 But be these empty fears allayed ! 
 
 I have seen, once more, the dark retreat 
 
 Which hid your first kiss, shy and sweet, 
 Bestowed on me within its shade : 
 
 'Twas there Love sealed our tenderness 
 Thus I recall my grief anew 
 
 The tree that witnessed my caress 
 Now sees my tears its root bedew :
 
 U4 
 
 I kiss the once-propitious lawn 
 On which your shadow then was cast ; 
 The sand on which your footstep passed 
 
 I love, and screen of verdure drawn 
 To hide the bliss I won at last. 
 
 I tend the bush with service meet, 
 That ever-happy myrtle tree, 
 The myrtle that you gave to me 
 
 Before you left this calm retreat ; 
 Under my care it learns to grow, 
 
 And may perhaps in time become 
 Worthy of her who loves it so 
 
 And of the God who bade it bloom. 
 
 The baffled East winds round it rave 
 
 But on its foliage cast no blight, 
 Screened from the tempest, it can brave 
 
 The icy breath of winter night. 
 When Morn renews her presence there 
 
 I sprinkle it with mimic rain, 
 Nor trust at all to Flora's care 
 
 The task she begs but begs in vain ; 
 I let no gods or mortals share 
 
 The sacred labour's pleasing pain ;
 
 1 bid it grow 'twas her behest 
 And still, with it, shall grow my love, 
 Until its leaves become above 
 
 Her tranquil brow a garland dressed. 
 Thy lot with envy she may learn, 
 
 To feed thy top may winds be warm, 
 
 Until the antlered branches form 
 A triumph-arch for her return !
 
 EIGHTEENTH JKJSS. 
 
 IMMORTALITY. 11 
 
 T X 7HAT spells about one you can throw ! 
 
 How love, near you, the reason overpowers ! 
 How perfumed are the kisses you bestow ! 
 
 In gathering them one seems to gather flowers 
 Such as, about the dawn of day, 
 
 Upon Hymettus, yield their treasures up, 
 To those aerial nymphs who seek their prey 
 
 In pink and violet, and the lily's cup. 
 
 ] 1 Imitated from Kiss IV. of Joannes Secundus.
 
 n8 THE f^ISSSS. 
 
 The breathing of your mouth is like a dew, 
 That runs from vein to vein in rapture fine, 
 
 And in my kindled soul long waves renew 
 Delirious flame and lovers' heavenly wine. 
 
 Go on, go on ! your fond caress renew, 
 
 Till I become immortal in your arms ; 
 
 And yet the privilege will have no charms, 
 Unless my ardour does the like for you ; 
 
 For immortality were worthless should it sever 
 The wreath in which our mutual pleasures blend ; 
 I live for thee alone ; if these must end, 
 
 What would it profit me to live for ever ?
 
 THE SHADES. 12 
 
 ~p\EATH is a foe it boots not to be flying, 
 
 He breaks his scythe upon our altars, love ! 
 The fires we feel are never quenched by dying, 
 
 No hearts joined here will fail to meet above ; 
 
 The soul escaped flies, like a homing dove, 
 In search of Him from whom her function springs, 
 And God that fashioned her inspires her wings. . . 
 
 12 Imitated from Kiss II. of Joannes Secundus. 
 
 P 2
 
 THS 
 
 From earth set free we seek the happy glade 
 
 In yon Elysium for the virtuous made. 
 
 All grows unbidden there, the sward is bright 
 
 With flowers, and fruit its boon profusion yields ; 
 And tempered sunshine, with auspicious light 
 
 Makes vernal warmth eternal in the fields. 
 There from all sides the laughing waters leap, 
 
 And in clear sheets beneath the laurels flow, 
 
 While Zephyr, on the rose-trees fain to blow, 
 Stirs the young blossoms from their fragrant sleep, 
 
 Scatters their scent, and in that sweet repair 
 
 Breathes love-born languor on the ambient air, 
 There amorous shades the shades they love pursue 
 Dead though they be, such shades their love renew 
 
 There, still, they teach the fond illusive lore, 
 There Dido calls again the Trojan chief, 
 
 Nor Sappho ever leaves her Phaon more ; 
 While Lycoris, crowned with bacchanalian leaf, 
 
 Rewards the minstrel of the Ceian shore ; 
 Racine, whose magic strings his sighs prolong, 
 
 The rose and cypress blended in his crown, 
 Suffers the two-fold pains of love and song, * 
 
 And still Champmesle's breast in tears will drown ; 
 There Alcibiades with his love will stray ; 
 
 There Caesar come, his amorous tale to tell ; 
 There Henry's shade, still great and dear to-day, 
 Will seem to own the dame of Anet's sway,
 
 THS SHtA<D8S. 
 
 In that fair, almost solitary dell 
 
 Where heaven ordains that kings who love shall dwell. 
 Those fields, as you approach, shall grow more sweet, 
 
 The light that shines on them more soft shall grow, 
 
 And never did so many myrtles blow. 
 Bands of the blest deploy, our steps to meet, 
 
 From whom we seek the prize they grant alone ; 
 Lovers themselves, they read love in our eyes ; 
 
 And, full of that emotion they have known, 
 Make it our equal fate to share their Paradise.
 
 C.Batfuy Scuif 
 
 KJSS. 
 
 THE FLORAL CROWN. 
 
 T X 7ITH Thais in my arms, my pulses fluttered, 
 
 I felt my brow o'ercast ; 
 " While you are sunning me with smiles," I muttered, 
 
 " Elsewhere there swells, perhaps, a stormy blast ; 
 My verse I love for you 'twas uttered 
 
 What judgment on it have the critics passed ? 
 With hundred tongues will Rumour be, 
 
 Concerned to spread your poet's fame,
 
 I2 4 
 
 THS KJSSSS. 
 
 And will the favours you confer on me 
 Serve me as passport to the House of Fame ? " 
 
 She heard ; and, turning where the roses grew, 
 
 Made me a coronal of them, and said : 
 " This is my best reply to you, 
 The prize that to your songs is due 
 
 My hand shall place upon your head : 
 Renounce the vain ambition of the bays, 
 
 Cease to fret after scholarly renown ; 
 
 The Roses make the fittest crown 
 For him who sang the Loves' and Kisses' praise.'
 
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