T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
Epigrams on Priapus
Anonymous(From Priapeia. London. 1889) IN play, Priapus, (thou canst testify),SONG I. TO PRIAPUS | |
Songs, fit for garden not for book-work, I | |
Wrote and none over-care applied thereto. | |
No Muses dared I (like the Verseful Crew) | |
Invite to visit such invirginal site. | 5 |
For heart and senses did forbid me quite | |
To set the choir Pierian, chaste and fair, | |
Before Priapus’ tool—such deed to dare. | |
Then whatsoe’er I wrote when idly gay, | |
And on this Temple-wall for note I lay, | 10 |
Take in good part: such is the prayer I pray. | |
II. Darkly might I to thee say: Oh give me for ever and ever | |
What thou may’st constantly give while of it nothing be lost; | |
Give me what vainly thou’lt long to bestow in the days that are coming, | |
When that invidious beard either soft cheek shall invade; | 15 |
What unto Jove gave he who, borne by the worshipful flyer, | |
Mixes the gratefullest cups, ever his leman’s delight; | |
What on the primal night maid gives to her love-longing bridegroom | |
Dreading ineptly the hurt dealt to a different part. | |
Simpler far to declare in our Latin, Lend me thy buttocks; | 20 |
What shall I say to thee else? Dull’s the Minerva of me. | |
III. These tablets, sacred to the Rigid God, | |
From Elephantis’ obscene booklets drawn, | |
Lalage offers and she prays thee try | |
To ply the painted figures’ every part. | 25 |
IV. All the conditions (they say) Priapus made with the youngling, | |
Written in verses twain mortals hereunder can read: | |
“Whatso my garden contains to thee shall be lawfullest plunder | |
If unto us thou give whatso thy garden contains.” | |
V. Though I be wooden Priapus (as thou see’st), | 30 |
With wooden sickle and a prickle of wood, | |
Yet will I seize thee, Girl! and hold thee seized | |
And This, however gross, withouten fraud | |
Stiffer than lyre-string or than twisted rope | |
I’ll thrust and bury to thy seventh rib. | 35 |
VII. Matrons avoid this site, for your chaste breed | |
’Twere vile these verses impudique to read. | |
They still come on and not a doit they heed! | |
O’ermuch these matrons know and they regard | |
With willing glances this my vasty yard. | 40 |
IX. Why laugh such laughter, O most silly maid? | |
My form Praxiteles nor Scopas hewed: | |
To me no Phidian handwork finish gave; | |
But me a bailiff hacked from shapeless log, | |
And quoth my maker, “Thou Priapus be!” | 45 |
Yet on me gazing forthright gigglest thou | |
And holdest funny matter to deride | |
The pillar perking from the groin of me. | |
XVIII. Will ever Telethusa, posture-mime, | |
Who with no tunic veiling hinder cheeks | 50 |
Higher than her vitals heaves with apter geste | |
Wriggle to please thee with her wavy loins? | |
So thee, Priapus, not alone she’ll move | |
E’en Phaedra’s stepson shall her movement rouse. | |
XXV. Hither, Quirites! (here what limit is?) | 55 |
Either my member seminal lop ye off | |
Which thro’ the livelong nights for aye fatigue | |
The neighbour-women rutting endlessly, | |
Lewder than sparrows in the lusty spring; | |
Or I shall burst and ye Priapus lose. | 60 |
How I be futtered-out yourselves espy | |
Used-up, bejaded, lean and pallid grown, | |
Who erstwhile ruddy, in my doughtiness wont | |
To kill with poking thieves however doughty. | |
My side has failed me and poor I with cough | 65 |
The perilous spittle ever must outspew. | |
XLIV. What shouldest say this spear (although I’m wooden) be wishing | |
Whenas a maiden chance me in the middle to kiss? | |
Here none augur we need: believe my word she is saying:— | |
“Let the rude spear in me work with its natural wont!” | 70 |
LXIII. ’Tis not enough, my friends, I set my seat | |
Where earth gapes chinky under Canicule, | |
Ever enduring thirsty summer’s drought. | |
’Tis not enough the showers flow down my breast | |
And beat the hail-storms on my naked hair, | 75 |
With beard fast frozen, rigid by the rime. | |
’Tis not enough that days in labor spent | |
Sleepless I lengthen through the nights as long. | |
Add that a godhead terrible of staff | |
Hewed me the rustic’s rude unartful hand | 80 |
And made me vilest of all deities, | |
Invoked as wooden guardian of the gourds. | |
And more, for shameless note to me was ’signed | |
With lustful nerve a pyramid distent, | |
Whereto a damsel (whom well nigh I’d named) | 85 |
Is with her fornicator wont to come | |
And save in every mode Philaenis tells | |
Futtered, in furious lust her way she wends. | |
LXIX. What then? Had Trojan yard Taenerian dame and her Cunnus | |
Never delighted, of song never a subject had he: | 90 |
But for the Tantalid’s tool being known to Fame and well noted | |
Old man Chryses had naught left him for making his moan. | |
This did his mate dispoil of a fond affectionate mistress | |
And of a prize not his plundered Aeacides, | |
He that aye chaunted his dirge of distress to the lyre Pelethronian, | 95 |
Lyre of the stiff taut string, stiffer the string of himself. | |
Ilias, noble poem, was gotten and born of such direful | |
Ire, of that Sacred Song such was original cause. | |
Matter of different kind was the wander of crafty Ulysses: | |
An thou would verity know Love too was motor of this. | 100 |
Hence does he gather the root whence springs that aureate blossom | |
Which whenas “Moly” hight, “Moly” but “Mentula” means. | |
Here too of Circe we read and Calypso, daughter of Atlas, | |
Bearing the mighty commands dealt by Dulichian Brave | |
Whom did Alcinous’ maiden admire by cause of his member | 105 |
For with a leafy branch hardly that yard could be clad. | |
Yet was he hasting his way to regain his little old woman: | |
Thy coynte (Penelope!) claiming his every thought; | |
Thou who bidest so chaste with mind ever set upon banquets | |
And with a futtering crew alway thy palace was filled: | 110 |
Then that thou learn of these which were most potent of swiving, | |
Wont wast thou to bespeak, saying to suitors erect:— | |
“Than my Ulysses none was better at drawing the bowstring | |
Whether by muscles of side or by superior skill; | |
And, as he now is deceased, do ye all draw and inform me | 115 |
Which of ye men be the best so that my man he become.” | |
Thy heart, Penelope, right sure by such pow’r I had pleased, | |
But at the time not yet had I been made of mankind. |
LXXXIV. By Albius Tibullus (attributed): Concerning the Inertia of His Privy Member |
What news be here? what send those angry gods? | |
Whenas in silent night that snow-hued boy | 120 |
To my warm bosom claspèd lay concealed, | |
Venus was dormant nor in manly guise | |
My sluggard prickle raised his senile head. | |
Art pleased (Priapus!) under leafy tree | |
Wont with vine-tendrils sacred sconce to wreathe | 125 |
And seat thee ruddy with thy ruddled yard? | |
But, O Triphallus, oft with freshest flowers | |
Artlessly garlanded thy brow we crowned | |
And with loud shouting often drove from thee. | |
What aged Raven or what agile Daw | 130 |
Would peck thy holy face with horny beak. | |
Farewell, Priapus! naught to thee owe I | |
Farewell, forsaker damn’d of private parts! | |
Pale with neglect amid the fields shalt lie | |
Where savage bandog shall bepiss thee or | 135 |
Wild boar shall rub thee with his ribs mud-caked. | |
Accursed Organ! Oh, by whom my pains | |
Shall with sore righteous penalty be paid? | |
Howe’er thou ’plain, no more shall tender boy | |
Ope to thy bidding, nor on groaning bed | 140 |
His mobile buttocks writhe with aiding art: | |
Nor shall the wanton damsel’s legier hand | |
Stroke thee, or rub on thee her lubric thigh. | |
A two-fanged mistress, Romulus old remembering, | |
Awaits thee; middlemost whose sable groin | 145 |
And hide time-loosened thou with coynte-rime bewrayed | |
And hung in cobwebs fain shalt block the way. | |
Such prize is thine who thrice and four times shalt | |
Engulf thy lecherous head in fosse profound. | |
Though sick or languid lie thou, still thou must | 150 |
Rasp her till wretched, wretched thou shalt fill | |
Thrice or e’en fourfold times her cavernous gape; | |
And naught this haughty sprite shall ’vail thee when | |
Plunging thine errant head in plashing mire. | |
Why lies it lazy? Doth its sloth displease thee? | 155 |
For once thou mayest weaken it unavenged; | |
But when that golden boy again shall come | |
Soon as his patter on the path shalt hear, | |
Grant that a restless swelling rouse my nerve | |
Lustful a-sudden and upraise it high, | 160 |
Nor cease excite it and excite it more | |
Till wanton Venus burst my weaked side. | |