Classic Poem

As in a thousand wanton Curles the Vine
 Doth the lov'd Elme embrace;
As clasping Ivy round the Oak doth twine
 To kiss his leavy Face;

So thou about my Neck thy Arms shalt fling,
 Joyning to mine thy Breast;
So shall my Arms about thy fair Neck cling,
 My Lips on thine imprest.

Ceres nor Bacchus , Care of Life nor Sleep
 Shall force me to retire;
But we at once will on each others Lip
 Our mutual Souls expire.

Then hand in hand down to th' Elizian Plains
 (Crossing the Stygian Lake)
Wee'l through those Fields where Spring eternal reigns
 Our pleasing Journey take.

There their fair Mistresses the Heroes lead,
 And their old Loves repeat,
Singing or dancing in a flowry Mead
 With Mirtles round beset.

Roses and Violets smile beneath a Skreen
 Of ever verdant Bayes;
And gentle Zephyr amorously between
 Their Leaves untroubled playes.

There constantly the pregnant Earth unplow'd
 Her fruitful store supplies:
When We come thither, all the happy Crowd
 From their green Thrones will rise.

There Thou in Place above Joves numerous Train
 Of Mistresses shalt sit;
Hers Hellen, Homer will not his disdain
 For Thee, and Me to quit.