CYTHERE.

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BY favourable breezes fanned,
A trellised arbour is at hand
To shield us from the summer airs;

The scent of roses, fainting sweet,
Afloat upon the summer heat,
Blends with the perfume that she wears.

True to the promise her eyes gave,
She ventures all, and her mouth rains
A dainty fever through my veins;

And Love, fulfilling all things, save
Hunger, we ’scape, with sweets and ices,
The folly of Love’s sacrifices.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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