T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
An Imitation of Ovids Amours
By Matthew Prior (16641721)(Book III. Elegy III; from Miscellaneous Works, 1740) |
CHLOE, since you a handsome woman are, | |
And consequently frail as you are fair, | |
Be not to any of my rivals coy, | |
But all the sweets of Liberty enjoy: | |
Through ev’ry various scene of loving rove, | 5 |
And to the best your youth and charms improve; | |
I, all this freedom can with ease allow; | |
I meant not to confine you to a vow; | |
Provided that you act with secrecy, | |
And keep your jilting tricks concealed from me. | 10 |
She sins not to the world who can deny, | |
And brazen out the rumour with a lie. | |
’Tis folly, nay, ’tis madness to reveal | |
That which you can but any way conceal. | |
You what the world would ne’er suspect proclaim, | 15 |
And double by your impudence your shame. | |
The lewdest, bawdiest drab in all the town | |
Will shut the door, before she lays her down. | |
Is’t not enough that fame proclaims your guilt, | |
But you, yourself, must tell, you are a jilt? | 20 |
For your own sake be with your pleasures wise, | |
And sin at least under a chaste disguise. | |
Nay, if to me, your tricks should be betrayed, | |
Vow they’re all false, and that the world are mad; | |
Blush, weep, sigh, rage, and all your passions vent, | 25 |
As if you did your injured fame lament: | |
And I shall fondly think your innocent. | |
When to some secret grotto you resort, | |
That love will suit, conceal the am’rous sport; | |
There then unmasked, let loose your fierce desire, | 30 |
Inflame with every lecherous trick your fire, | |
Thy soul in its own native dress expose, | |
And what, without disguise, you are disclose; | |
Baulk nothing that can add to your delight, | |
But vigorously pursue love’s pleasing fight. | 35 |
Without a blush your folding arms, fast lock, | |
That links you closer, and improves the shock. | |
Your tongue to his in humid kisses dart, | |
And let each single member have a part. | |
As still you’re acting the soft scenes of love, | 40 |
Your body in a thousand postures move; | |
Art does the dry insipid act advance, | |
And different motion does the bliss enhance. | |
All dying, amorous, soft expressions use, | |
Your melting looks new vigor will infuse, | 45 |
But when you meet me, do not disabuse; | |
Hide with thy waving robe the rising blush, | |
By strong denial all suspicion crush, | |
Till scandal’s self confirm the general hush. | |
To me, to all the world thy truth declare, | 50 |
That if deceived, unknowing I may err. | |
My dear credulity O ne’er destroy, | |
That paradise of fools let me enjoy. | |
But why! ah why! so often must I see | |
The billet sent, and brought again to thee? | 55 |
Why deep indented, when I come, is seen | |
The couch without, the conscious bed within; | |
And ev’ry seat a witness of thy sin? | |
Why discomposed the ringlets of thy hair, | |
Move than with sleep? Why all thy bosom bare, | 60 |
And all the marks of love imprinted there? | |
Lost reputation though you may despise, | |
Set not at least your guilt before my eyes. | |
Consider me, if not your ruined fame; | |
To me ’tis death, to you what is not shame. | 65 |
When you confess I feel the fatal pains, | |
And the chill’d blood creeps slowly through my veins. | |
But ah! in vain thy falsehood I would hate; | |
No; I must love thee, faithless and ingrate! | |
Even while I fly from thy destructive charms, | 70 |
I wish myself expiring in thy arms, | |
O there conceal what I shall not inquire! | |
Did not thy conduct blow it to a fire, | |
Each spark of jealousy wou’d soon expire. | |
Nay, wert thou taken in the guilty act, | 75 |
And even these eyes were witness to the fact, | |
What well I saw, as well would’st thou deny, | |
And swear my sense imposed on me a lie, | |
My willing eyes their evidence should quit, | |
And all my soul in sorrow should submit. | 80 |
Prepared to yield, how easy is thy task! | |
To say, ’tis false, is all that I can ask, | |
And since two words thy conquest may secure, | |
And since thy judge, if not thy cause, is sure, | |
At least be constant in a fixed denial; | 85 |
Thy truth, my girl, shall never come on trial. | |