T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
Hark, My Flora! Love Doth Call Us
Anonymous(From Sportive Wit: the Muses’ Merriment, 1656) |
HARK, my Flora! Love doth call us | |
To that strife that must befall us. | |
He has robb’d his mother’s myrtles | |
And hath pull’d her downy turtles. | |
See, our genial posts are crown’d, | 5 |
And our beds like billows rise: | |
Softer combat’s nowhere found, | |
And who loses wins the prize. | |
Let not dark nor shadows fright thee; | |
Thy limbs of lustre they will light thee. | 10 |
Fear not any can surprise us, | |
Love himself doth now disguise us. | |
From thy waist the girdle throw: | |
Night and darkness both dwell here: | |
Words or actions who can know, | 15 |
Where there’s neither eye nor ear? | |
Shew thy bosom and then hide it; | |
License touching and then chide it; | |
Give a grant and then forbear it, | |
Offer something and forswear it; | 20 |
Ask where all our shame is gone; | |
Call us wicked wanton men; | |
Do as turtles, kiss and groan; | |
Say “We ne’er shall meet again.” | |
I can hear thee curse, yet chase thee; | 25 |
Drink thy tears, yet still embrace thee; | |
Easy riches is no treasure; | |
She that’s willing spoils the pleasure. | |
Love bids learn the wrestlers’ fight; | |
Pull and struggle whilst ye twine; | 30 |
Let me use my force to-night, | |
The next conquest shall be thine. | |