From the Spanish

For me, my fair, a wreath has wove, Where rival flowers in union meet; As oft she kiss'd the gift of love, Her breath gave sweetness to the sweet.

A Bee within a damask rose Had crept the nectar'd dew to sip; But lesser sweets the thief foregoes,— And sixes on Louisa's lip.

There, tasting all the bloom of Spring, Wak'd by the ripening breath of May, Th' ungrateful spoiler left his sting, And with the honey flew away.