Tis no Kiss my Fair bestows;
Nectar 'tis whence new Life flows;
All the Sweets which nimble Bees
In their Ozier Treasuries
With unequall'd Art repose,
In one Kiss her Lips disclose.
These, if I should many take,
Soon would me Immortal make,
Rais'd to the divine Abodes,
And the Banquets of the Gods.
Be not then too lavish, Fair!
But this heavenly Treasure spare,
'Less thou'lt too Immortal be:
For without thy Companie,
What to Me were the Abodes,
Or the Banquets of the Gods?