by: Henry Baker (1698-1774)


N her couch, one summer’s day;
Beauteous, youthful Kitty lay:
Venus saw her from above,
(Smiling Venus, queen of love:)
Amaz’d at each celestial grace,
Her polish’d limbs, her blooming face;
Come here, my son, she said, and see
One you might have took for me.
Roguish Cupid, laughing, cries,
O give me leave to quit the skies,
And make that heav’nly maiden prove
The various mysteries of love:
The close embrace, the juicy kiss,
The raging, dying, melting bliss.
Venus consented; go, my boy,
Make her know the heights of joy.
Away the archer and his train
Sport along th’ ethereal plain.
Now, around the sleeping fair,
A thousand Cupids fill the air;
In her bosom some inspire
Tender wishes, warm desire;
Some in balmy kisses sip
Nectar from her glowing lip;
Her each heaving snowy breast,
Some with wanton ardor press;
Twining round her slender waist,
Some with eager joy embrac’d;
While at random others rove
Through the fragrant groves of love.
While thus the god his revel keeps,
Kitty, happy virgin! sleeps:
A pleasing dream her soul employs,
Rich with imaginary joys.
She thinks Sir Charles upon his knees,
Beseeching her to give him ease;
That she disdainful looks a while;
At length with a complying smile
His fears dispelling, lets him see
She burns with love as well as he:
That folded in his eager arms,
He boldly rifles all her charms,
While she returns the warm embrace,
Breast to breast, and face to face!
Sighing, she wakes: ah, love! she cries,
How vast must be thy real joys!
When thus divinely great they seem,
Tho’ but imagin’d in a dream!
Scarcely this reflection o’er,
A footman thunders at the door:
Kitty, disorder’d, leaves her couch,
And Betty tells the knight’s approach.
He enters with becoming grace,
Blushes overspread her face;
In a soft persuasive strain
He begs her to relieve his pain:
Nothing she says; but from her eyes
He learns that nothing she denies.
Encourag’d thence, her lips, her breast
He tries, and wanders o’er the rest;
The glowing maid, no longer coy,
Gives an unbounded loose to joy;
Around him folds her snowy arms,
At once bestowing all her charms:
And now, this happy couple prove
All the substantial sweets of love,
While thousand Cupids, laughing by,
Assist their blissful ecstasy.
Loosen’d from his fond embrace,
My dream, she cries, is come to pass!–
And did my charmer dream of this?
(Sir Charles replies, and takes a kiss)
Henceforth, whene’er you dream, my dear,
Let me be your interpreter.


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