Prayer to Venus

Kind Venus, hear thy suppliant's pray'r, Hear, and indulgent grant; For love I ask—you well may spare The little I shall want.

No storms of passion I desire, No boundless transports claim, Give me that gentle doubtful fire, Which feeds a sportive flame.

For oh! I've known the soft delights, That warm the breast sincere; The anxious days and sleepless nights That nurse the tender fear.

Have shar'd the fond endearing kiss, Which mutual ardour fires, And tasted oft that genuine bliss, Which mutual truth inspires.

I've felt the fierce extreme of love, Which utterance would destroy; When speechless raptures silent prove, The soul's sublimest joy.

But then its bitterest pangs I've borne, Deprest with tenfold care; And many an hour with anguish torn, Sat brooding o'er Despair.

Whelm'd with such violence of woe, Would melt a heart of steel, Which only those who love can know, Who lose can only feel.

Hence, let me calmly view the sex, Contented to enjoy That bliss, which absence cannot vex, Or Perfidy destroy:

O Venus! let me favour win, Secure from Cupid's dart, Still let it gently pierce my skin, But never probe my heart!