LXXX.
Sweet swelling lip! well mayest thou swell in pride;
Since best wits think it wit, thee to admire:
Nature's praise! Virtue's stall! CUPID'S cold fire!
Whence words, not words but heavenly graces slide.
The new Parnassus! where the Muses bide.
Sweet'ner of music! wisdom's beautifier!
Breather of life! and fast'ner of Desire!
Where Beauty's blush in Honour's grain is dyed.
Thus much my heart compelled my mouth to say,
But now spite of my heart, my mouth will stay;
Loathing all lies, doubting this flattery is:
And no spur can his resty race renew;
Without how far this praise is short of you,
Sweet lip! you teach my mouth with one sweet kiss!
LXXXI.
O kiss! Which dost those ruddy gems impart,
Or gems or fruits of new-found Paradise;
Breathing all bliss and sweet'ning to the heart;
Teaching dumb lips a nobler exercise.
O kiss! which souls, even souls together ties
By links of love, and only Nature's art:
How fain would I paint thee to all men's eyes
Or of thy gifts at least shade out some part?
But she forbids. With blushing words, she says
"She builds her fame on higher-seated praise:"
But my heart burns, I cannot silent be.
Then since, dear life! you fain would have me peace;
And I, mad with delight, want wit to cease:
Stop you my mouth with still still kissing me!
