Sappho and Phaon: Sonnet XXXII

BLEST as the Gods ! Sicilian maid is he,
The youth whose soul thy yielding graces charm ;
Who bound, O ! thraldom sweet ! by beauty's arm,
In idle dalliance fondly sports with thee !
Blest as the Gods ! that iv'ry throne to see,
Throbbing with transports, tender, timid, warm !
While round thy fragrant lips light zephyrs swarm,
As op'ning buds attract the wand'ring bee !
Yet, short is youthful passion's fervid hour ;
Soon, shall another clasp the beauteous boy;
Soon, shall a rival prove, in that gay bow'r,
The pleasing torture of transcendent joy !
The bee flies sicken'd from the sweetest flow'r ;
The lightning's shaft but dazzles to destroy!