T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
The Prospect and Bower of Bliss
By Aphra Behn (16401689)(From Poems, 1683) ’TIS all eternal spring around, | |
And all the trees with fragrant flowers are crown’d; | |
No clouds, no misty showers obscure the light, | |
But all is calm, serene and gay, | |
The heavens are drest with a perpetual bright, | 5 |
And all the earth with everlasting May. | |
Each minute blows the Rose and Jesamine, | |
And twines with new-born Eglantine, | |
Each minute new discoveries bring; | |
Of something sweet, of something ravishing. | 10 |
Fountains, wandering brooks soft rills, | |
That o’er the wanton pebbles play; | |
And all the woods with tender murmuring fills, | |
Inspiring love, inciting joy; | |
(The sole, the solemn business of the day) | 15 |
Through all the groves, the glades and thickets run, | |
And nothing see but love on all their banks along; | |
A thousand flowers of different kinds, | |
The neighboring meads adorn; | |
Whose sweetness snatcht by flying winds, | 20 |
O’er all the Bow’r of Bliss is born; | |
Whether all things in nature strive to bring, | |
All that is soft, all that is ravishing. | |
The verdant banks no other prints retain, | |
But where young lovers, and young loves have lain. | 25 |
For love has nothing here to do, | |
But to be wanton, soft and gay, | |
And give a lavish loose to joy. | |
His emptied quiver, and his bow, | |
In flowry wreaths and rosy garlands crown’d, | 30 |
In myrtle shades are hung, | |
As conquerors when the Victories won, | |
Dispose their glorious trophies all around. | |
Soft winds and Echos that do haunt each grove, | |
Still whisper, and repeat no other Songs than love. | 35 |
Which round about the sacred bower they sing, | |
Where every thing arrives that’s sweet and ravishing. | |
A thousand gloomy walks the bower contains, | |
Sacred all to mighty love; | |
A thousand winding turns where pleasure reigns; | 40 |
Obscur’d from day by twining boughs above, | |
Where Love invents a thousand plays, | |
Where lovers act ten thousand joys: | |
Nature has taught each little bird, | |
A soft example to afford; | 45 |
They bill and look, and sing and love, | |
And charm the air, and charm the grove; | |
Whilst underneath the ravisht swain is lying, | |
Gazing, sighing, pressing, dying; | |
Still with new desire warm’d, | 50 |
Still with new joy, new rapture charm’d; | |
Amongst the green soft rivulets do pass, | |
In winding streams half hid in flowers and grass, | |
Who purl and murmur as they glide along, | |
And mix their music with the shepherd’s pipe and song, | 55 |
Which echo’s through the sacred bower repeat, | |
Where every thing arrives that’s ravishing and sweet. | |
The virgin here shows no disdain, | |
Nor does the shepherd sigh in vain, | |
This knows no cruelty, nor that no pain: | 60 |
No youth complains upon his rigorous fair; | |
No injur’d maid upon her perjured dear, | |
’Tis only love, fond love finds entrance here; | |
The notes of birds, the murmuring boughs, | |
When gentle winds glide through the glades, | 65 |
Soft sighs of love, and soft breath’d vows, | |
The tender whisperings of the yielding maids, | |
Dashing fountains, purling springs, | |
The short breath’d cries from faint resistance sent, | |
(Cries which no aid desires or brings) | 70 |
The soft effects of fear and languishment; | |
The little struggling of the fair, | |
The trembling force of the young conqueror, | |
The tender arguments he brings, | |
The pretty nonsense with which she assails, | 75 |
Which as she speaks, she hopes it naught prevails | |
But yielding owns her love above her reasonings, | |
Is all is heard; silence and shade the rest. | |
Which best with love, which best with joys consist, | |
All which young Echo’s through the bower does sing, | 80 |
Where every thing is heard, that’s sweet and ravishing. | |
Recesses dark, and grotto’s all conspire, | |
To favour love and soft desire; | |
Shades, springs, and fountains flow’ry beds, | |
To joys invites, to pleasure leads, | 85 |
To pleasure which all humane thought exceeds. | |
Heavn’, earth, and sea, here all combine, | |
To propagate love’s great design, | |
And render the Appointments all Divine. | |
After long toil, ’tis here the lover reaps | 90 |
Transporting softnesses beyond his hopes; | |
’Tis here fair eyes, all languishing impart | |
The secrets of the fond inclining heart; | |
Fine hands and arms for tender pressings made, | |
In Love’s dear business always are employ’d: | 95 |
The soft enchantments of the tongue, | |
That does all other eloquence control, | |
Is breath’d with broken sighs among, | |
Into the ravish’d shepherds soul, | |
Whilst all is taken, all is given, | 100 |
That can complete lovers’ heaven: | |
And Io peans through the woods do ring. | |
From new fletched God, in songs all ravishing. | |