T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
Flora
Mediæval Latin Student’s Songs(From Wine, Women and Song. Translated by John Addington Symonds) |
RUDELY blows the winter blast, | |
| Withered leaves are falling fast, | |
| Cold hath hushed the birds at last. | |
| While the heavens were warm and glowing | |
| Nature’s offspring loved in May; | 5 |
| But man’s heart no debt is owing | |
| To such change of month or day | |
| As the dumb brute-beasts obey. | |
| Oh, the joys of this possessing! | |
| How unspeakable the blessing | 10 |
| That my Flora yields to-day! | |
| Labour long I did not rue, | |
| Ere I won my wages due, | |
| And the prize I played for drew. | |
| Flora with her brows of laughter, | 15 |
| Gazing on me, breathing bliss, | |
| Draws my yearning spirit after, | |
| Sucks my soul forth in a kiss: | |
| Where’s the pastime matched with this? | |
| Oh, the joys of this possessing! | 20 |
| How unspeakable the blessing | |
| Of my Flora’s loveliness! | |
| Truly mine is no harsh doom, | |
| While in this secluded room | |
| Venus lights for me the gloom! | 25 |
| Flora faultless as a blossom | |
| Bares her smooth limbs for mine eyes; | |
| Softly shines her virgin bosom, | |
| And the breasts that gently rise | |
| Like the hills of Paradise. | 30 |
| Oh, the joys of this possessing! | |
| How unspeakable the blessing | |
| When my Flora is the prize! | |
| From her tender breasts decline, | |
| In a gradual curving line, | 35 |
| Flanks like swansdown white and fine. | |
| On her skin the touch discerneth | |
| Naught of rough; ’tis soft as snow: | |
| ’Neath the waist her belly turneth | |
| Unto fulness, where below | 40 |
| In Love’s garden lilies blow. | |
| Oh, the joys of this possessing! | |
| How unspeakable the blessing! | |
| Sweetest sweets from Flora flow! | |
| Ah! should Jove but find my fair, | 45 |
| He would fall in love, I swear, | |
| And to his old tricks repair: | |
| In a cloud of gold descending | |
| As on Danae’s brazen tower, | |
| Or the sturdy bull’s back bending, | 50 |
| Or would veil his godhood’s power | |
| In a swan’s form for one hour. | |
| Oh, the joys of this possessing! | |
| How unspeakable the blessing! | |
| How divine my Flora’s flower! | 55 |