T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.

Celia Vanquished

Anonymous


(From The Festival of Love, 1789) CELIA! you’ll kill me, by the lord!
You know I’ve suffered like a martyr;
Nor have I yet had one kind word,
Nor seen an inch above your garter.

Can you forget, ungrateful maid,	5
How long my constant flame has lasted?
What nonsense have I sung and said,
What ink and paper have I wasted?

Ah, cruel nymph! you know full well,
With what a pure, becoming zeal	10
I’ve begged your snowy bosom’s swell,
And every other swell to feel!

And round your taper waist to twine,
Each inlet of delight to prove!
Our hearts, our lips, our souls to join!	15
And can you still, still doubt my love?

What, unconvinced? the Devil’s in it!
Well then, this proof shall calm your fears,
And if the warm expressive minute,
Speak not more love than days of tears.	20

Unless each palpitating nerve,
Each kindling vein confess me true,
Treat me at length as I deserve,
And banish me from joy and you!