To a Lady, who presented me an Orange

How does the Gift with the fair giver suit!
The fairest hand presents the fairest Fruit;
Had this been thrown, when Atalanta turn'd,
The rolling Gold had by the Maid been spurn'd.
In vain, Acontius his device had try'd,
Had this fair Fruit roll'd by Cydippe's side;
By any Youth this Charming Bribe display'd,
Without her Vow, he might have claim'd the Maid.
With yours, no tempting, Rival Charm be nam'd;
Mankind was never by an Apple Damn'd.
Whilst you, our fairest Tree of Knowledge, stand,
I tast the Fruit of your inviting hand;
And while your Branching Fingers stretch'd I see,
I long to Circle round the Charming Tree.
Deluding Maid! tho' at so near a view,
Like Eden's Plant, thou art forbidden too.
The ravisht Youth, whom thou shalt Love, may boast
As true a Paradise, as once was lost.