A kiss "May th'image of each mind expresse / As perfect as the wax the seal"
— Heath, Robert (bap. 1620, d. in or after 1685)
Date
1650
Metaphor
A kiss "May th'image of each mind expresse / As perfect as the wax the seal"
Metaphor in Context
Oh those smooth, soft, and Rubie lips,
That fright the Sun to an Eclipse,
Whose Rosie and Virmilion hue
Betray the blushing thoughts in you:
Whose fragrant Amoratick breath
Wou'd revive dying Saints from death,
Whose Syren-like harmonious air
Speaks musick and enchants the ear;
VVho would not hang? and fixed there
VVish he might know no other sphere?
Oh for a charm to make the Sun
Drunk, and forget his motion!
Oh that some palsie or lame gout
Would cramp old times diseased foot!
Or that I might, or moult or clip
His speedy wings, whilst on her lip
I quench my thirsty appetite
With the life honey dwels on it!
Oh for a Crane-like neck that may
This Nectar slowly thence convey!
Then on this holy Altar, I
Would sacrifice eternally,
Offring one long continued mine
Of Golden pleasures to thy shrine.
I mean not Pompeys biting kiss
Flora did so commend: nor his
Venerious sip Catullus us'd
Where lip-salve was from each infus'd
No: a more holy chast impresse,
May th'image of each mind expresse
As perfect as the wax the seal:
Such kisses do not wound, but heal.
That fright the Sun to an Eclipse,
Whose Rosie and Virmilion hue
Betray the blushing thoughts in you:
Whose fragrant Amoratick breath
Wou'd revive dying Saints from death,
Whose Syren-like harmonious air
Speaks musick and enchants the ear;
VVho would not hang? and fixed there
VVish he might know no other sphere?
Oh for a charm to make the Sun
Drunk, and forget his motion!
Oh that some palsie or lame gout
Would cramp old times diseased foot!
Or that I might, or moult or clip
His speedy wings, whilst on her lip
I quench my thirsty appetite
With the life honey dwels on it!
Oh for a Crane-like neck that may
This Nectar slowly thence convey!
Then on this holy Altar, I
Would sacrifice eternally,
Offring one long continued mine
Of Golden pleasures to thy shrine.
I mean not Pompeys biting kiss
Flora did so commend: nor his
Venerious sip Catullus us'd
Where lip-salve was from each infus'd
No: a more holy chast impresse,
May th'image of each mind expresse
As perfect as the wax the seal:
Such kisses do not wound, but heal.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "mind" and "wax" in HDIS (Poetry)
Date of Entry
03/27/2005
