T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
The Imperfect Enjoyment
By Sir George Etherege (1635?1691)AFTER a pretty amorous discourse, | |
She does resist my love with pleasing force; | |
Moved not with anger, but with modesty, | |
Against her will she is my enemy. | |
Her eyes the rudeness of her arms excuse, | 5 |
Whilst those accept what these seem to refuse; | |
To ease my passion and to make me blest | |
The obliging smock falls from her whiter breast. | |
Then with her lovely hands she does conceal | |
Those wonders chance so kindly did reveal. | 10 |
In vain, alas! her nimble fingers strove | |
To shield her beauties from my greedy love: | |
Guarding her breasts, her lips she did expose, | |
To save a lily she must lose a rose. | |
So many charms she has in every place, | 15 |
A hundred hands cannot defend each grace. | |
Sighing at length her force she does recall, | |
For since I must have part she’ll give me all. | |
Her arms the joyful conqueror embrace, | |
And seem to guide me to the sought-for place: | 20 |
Her love is in her sparkling eyes express’d, | |
She falls o’ the bed for pleasure more than rest. | |
But oh, strange passion! oh, abortive joy! | |
My zeal does my devotion quite destroy: | |
Come to the temple where I should adore | 25 |
My saint, I worship at the sacred door; | |
Oh, cruel chance! the town which did oppose | |
My strength so long, now yields to my dispose; | |
When overjoy’d with victory I fall | |
Dead at the foot of the surrender’d wall, | 30 |
Without the usual ceremony, we | |
Have both fulfilled the amorous mystery; | |
The action which we should have jointly done, | |
Each has unluckily perform’d alone; | |
The union which our bodies should enjoy, | 35 |
The union of our eager souls destroy. | |
Our flames are punish’d by their own excess, | |
We’d had more pleasure had our loves been less. | |
She blush’d and frown’d, perceiving we had done | |
The sport she thought we scarce had yet begun. | 40 |
Alas, said I, condemn yourself, not me, | |
This is th’ effect of too much modesty. | |
Hence with that peevish virtue, the delight | |
Of both our victories was lost i’ the fight; | |
Yet from my shame your glory does arise, | 45 |
My weakness proves the vigour of your eyes: | |
They did consume the victim ere it came | |
Unto the altar, with a purer flame: | |
Phyllis, let then this comfort ease your care, | |
You’d been more happy had you been less fair. | 50 |