(From the French)
Ah! could I charm the silver-breasted moon
To lie with me upon the Latmian hill
Through the hot hours of the purple noon
Till of strange joys my lips had drunk their fill.
Love could I change wan water into wine
To make more glad some heavy-lidded bride
Whose soul is sick with passion to entwine
The crimson-caftaned lover at her side.
Love could I make the lily-petals part
And filch the treasures of its golden seed,
Or swoon for passion in the rose’s heart
Till its red leaves with redder pain did bleed.
Love could I see Narcissus lean to kiss
His laughing double in the glassy stream,
Or hear the smitten lips of Salmacis
Laugh low for pleasure of some unreal dream.
Ah what to me were silver-breasted moon,
Or all the sweets young Narciss’ could unfold,
Or wondering lovers, or rose-chaliced swoon,
Or hair made golden with the lily’s gold.