T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
On a Juniper-tree Cut down to Make Busks
By Aphra Behn (16401689)WHILST happy I, triumphant stood, | |
The Pride and Glory of the Wood, | |
My Aromatic Boughs and Fruit | |
Did with all other Trees dispute; | |
Had Right by Nature to excel, | 5 |
In pleasing both the Taste and Smell; | |
But to the Touch, I must confess, | |
Bore an unwilling Sullenness. | |
My Wealth, like bashful Virgins, I | |
Yielding with some Reluctancy: | 10 |
For which my Value should be more, | |
Not giving easily my Store. | |
My verdant Branches all the Year | |
Did an eternal Beauty wear, | |
Did ever young and gay appear; | 15 |
Nor do I hold Supremacy, | |
In all the Wood, o’er ev’ry Tree, | |
But e’en those two of my own Race, | |
That grew not in this happy Place. | |
But that in which I glory most, | 20 |
And do myself with Reason boast, | |
Beneath my Shade the other Day | |
Young Philocles and Chloris lay. | |
Upon my Root he placed her Head, | |
And where I grew, he made her Bed; | 25 |
Whilst I the canopy more largely spread. | |
Their trembling Limbs did greatly press | |
The kind supporting yielding grass, | |
Ne’er half so blessed as now, to bear | |
A Swain so young, a Nymph so fair. | 30 |
My gentle Shade I kindly lent, | |
And ev’ry aiding Bough I bent. | |
So low, as sometimes had the Bliss | |
To rob the Shepherd of a Kiss: | |
Whilst he in Pleasures far above | 35 |
The Sense of that Degree of Love, | |
Permitted ev’ry Stealth I made, | |
Unjealous of his Rival Shade, | |
I saw ’em kindle to Desire, | |
Whilst with soft Sighs they blew the Fire; | 40 |
Saw the Approaches of their Joy, | |
He grew more fierce, and she less coy: | |
Saw how they mingled melting Rays, | |
Exchanging Love a thousand Ways. | |
Kind was the Force on ev’ry Side; | 45 |
Her new Desires she could not hide | |
Nor would the Shepherd be denied. | |
Impatient, he waits no Consent, | |
But what she gave by Languishment. | |
The blessed Minute he pursued, | 50 |
Whilst Love her Fear and Shame subdued; | |
And now transported in his Arms, | |
Yields to the Conqu’ror all her Charms. | |
His panting Breast to hers now joined, | |
They feast on Raptures unconfined, | 55 |
Vast and luxuriant, such as prove | |
The Immortality of Love. | |
For, who but a Divinity | |
Could mingle Souls to that Degree, | |
And melt ’em into Ecstasy? | 60 |
Where, like the Phoenix, both expire, | |
Whilst from the Ashes of their Fire, | |
Sprung up a new and soft Desire. | |
Like Charmers, thrice they did invoke | |
The God, and thrice new Vigour took; | 65 |
And had the Nymph been half so kind, | |
As was the Shepherd well inclined, | |
The Myst’ry had not ended there: | |
But Chloris re-assum’d her Fear, | |
And chid the Swain for having prest | 70 |
What she (alas!) could not resist; | |
Whilst he, in whom Love’s sacred Flame | |
Before and After was the same, | |
Humbly implores she would forget | |
That Fault, which he would yet repeat, | 75 |
From active Joys with Shame they haste | |
To a Reflection on the past: | |
A thousand Times the Covert bless, | |
That did secure their Happiness; | |
Their Gratitude to ev’ry Tree | 80 |
They pay, but most to happy Me. | |
The Shepherdess my Bark caressed, | |
Whilst he my Root (Love’s Pillow) kissed, | |
And did with Sighs their Fate deplore, | |
Since I must shelter ’em no more. | 85 |
And if before my joys were such, | |
In having heard and seen so much, | |
My Griefs must be as great and high, | |
When all abandoned I must lie, | |
Doomed to a silent Destiny; | 90 |
No more the silent Strife to hear, | |
The Shepherd’s Vows, the Virgin’s Fear; | |
No more a joyful Looker on, | |
Whilst Love’s soft Battle’s lost and won. | |
With Grief I bowed my murm’ring Head, | 95 |
And all my crystal dew I shed, | |
Which did in Chloris Pity move, | |
Chloris, whose Soul is made of Love. | |
She cut me down, and did translate | |
My being to a happier State: | 100 |
No Martyr for Religion died | |
With half that unconsid’ring Pride; | |
My Top was on the Altar laid, | |
Where Love his softest Off’rings paid, | |
And was, as fragrant Incense, burned: | 105 |
My Body into Busks was turned, | |
Where I still guard the sacred Store, | |
And of Love’s Temple keep the Door. | |