Alexander Brome (Александр Бром)
A Dialogue
1. Amoret. O For the balmy coral of a lip! Where I with kissing Chymistry may sip. Castalian quaffs of Nectar to delight me, And every kiss may to a new invite me. Oenophil. Give me a bowl wherein I'll tumble Bacchus, To bathe our souls, we'll drink till Sack doth crack us Midas. But let my chests groan with the gilded oar, Where having much is prologue unto more. Oenophil. Who doats on beauty, fancies but a toy. Midas. Who Wine adores, does overwhelm his joy. Oenophil. And he that gapes for gaudy dirt or treasure, Still feels desires, but no content nor pleasure. Chorus. Then let's unite our desires, but let reason be our guide, What in each is not found, in all swels like a tide. 2. Amoret. A beautious face can a young fancy raise, And mirtle glorifies, as well as Bayes. Love, like the soul, informs the flesh that's stupid, Nor can Apollo more inspire than Cupid. Oenophil. Where full-fraught cups, with sprightly liquors flow, it Unwraps your brain, and makes each wight a Poet. Midas. Where boundless treasure raigns 'twil raise the soul, And wit and love both conquer and controul. Amoret. Still give me love, give me my lovely lass. Oenophil. I'll count no other mistress, but the glass. Midas. But give me chink, nor love, nor wit shall plague us. For Poe and Hypocrene both vail to Tagus. Chorus. Then let's unite our desires, but let reason be our guide What in each is not found in all swels like a tide.
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