Tepidarium

O'er their soft limbs has myrrh its fragrance shed;
And bathed in warmth beneath December's skies
They dream, while the bronze lamp with flaming eyes
Throws light and shadow on each beauteous head.

On byssus cushions of empurpled bed
Some amber, rosy figure nerveless tries
To stretch, or bend, or from the couch to rise,
Where linen's folds voluptuously spread.

Breathing the air with ardent fumes replete,
An Asian woman, nude, amid the heat
Twists her smooth arms with languorous control;

And the pale daughters of Ausonia see
With gloating eye the rich, wild harmony,
As o'er her bronzed bust her jet locks roll.