I WILL enjoy thee now, my Celia, come, | |
| And fly with me to Love’s Elysium, | |
| The Giant, Honour, that keeps cowards out, | |
| Is but a masquer, and the servile rout | |
| Of baser subjects only bend in vain | 5 |
| To the vast Idol; whilst the nobler train | |
| Of valiant Lovers daily sail between | |
| The huge Colossus’ legs, and pass unseen | |
| Unto the blissful shore. Be bold and wise, | |
| And we shall enter: the grim Swiss 1 denies | 10 |
| Only to fools a passage, that not know | |
| He is but form, and only frights in show. | |
| |
| Let duller eyes that look from far, draw near, | |
| And they shall scorn what they were wont to fear. | |
| We shall see how the stalking Pageant goes | 15 |
| With borrow’d legs, a heavy load to those | |
| That made and bear him: not, as we once thought, | |
| The seed of Gods, but a weak model, wrought | |
| By greedy men, that seek to enclose the common, | |
| And within private arms impale free Woman. | 20 |
| |
| Come, then, and mounted on the wings of Love | |
| We’ll cut the fleeting air, and soar above | |
| The Monster’s head, and in the noblest seat | |
| Of those blest shades quench and renew our heat. | |
| There shall the Queens of Love and Innocence, | 25 |
| Beauty and Nature, banish all offence | |
| From our close Ivy-twines: there I’ll behold | |
| Thy bared snow and thy unbraided gold; | |
| There my enfranchised hand on every side | |
| Shall o’er thy naked polish’d ivory slide. | 30 |
| No curtain there, though of transparent lawn, | |
| Shall be before thy virgin-treasure drawn; | |
| But the rich Mine, to the enquiring eye | |
| Exposed, shall ready still for mintage lie: | |
| And we will coin young Cupids. There a bed | 35 |
| Of roses and fresh myrtles shall be spread, | |
| Under the cooler shade of Cypress groves; | |
| Our pillows, of the down of Venus’ doves; | |
| Whereon our panting limbs we’ll gently lay, | |
| In the faint respites of our amorous play: | 40 |
| That so our slumbers may in dreams have leisure | |
| To tell the nimble fancy our past pleasure, | |
| And so our souls—that cannot be embraced— | |
| Shall the embraces of our bodies taste. | |
| |
| Meanwhile the babbling stream shall court the shore, | 45 |
| Th’ enamour’d chirping Wood-choir shall adore | |
| In varied tunes the Deity of Love; | |
| The gentle blasts of Western wind shall move | |
| The trembling leaves, and thro’ the close boughs breathe | |
| Still music, whilst we rest ourselves beneath | 50 |
| Their dancing shade: till a soft murmur, sent | |
| From souls entranced in amorous languishment, | |
| Rouse us, and shoot into our veins fresh fire, | |
| Till we in their sweet ecstasy expire. | |
| |
| Then, as the empty Bee, that lately bore | 55 |
| Into the common treasure all her store, | |
| Flies ’bout the painted field with nimble wing, | |
| Deflow’ring the fresh virgins of the Spring— | |
| So will I rifle all the sweets that dwell | |
| In thy delicious Paradise, and swell | 60 |
| My bag with honey, drawn forth by the power | |
| Of fervent kisses from each spicy flower. | |
| I’ll seize the Rose-buds in their perfumed bed, | |
| The violet knots, like curious mazes spread | |
| O’er all the garden; taste the ripened cherries, | 65 |
| The warm firm apple, tipp’d with coral berries. | |
| Then will I visit with a wand’ring kiss | |
| The Vale of lilies, and the Bower of bliss; | |
| And where the beauteous region doth divide | |
| Into two milky ways, my lip shall slide | 70 |
| Down those smooth alleys, wearing as they go | |
| A track for lovers on the printed snow; | |
| Then climbing o’er the swelling Apennine, | |
| Retire into the grove of Eglantine: | |
| Where I will all those ravished sweets distil | 75 |
| Through Love’s alembic, and with chymic skill | |
| From the mixed mass one sovereign balm derive, | |
| Then bring the great Elixir to thy hive. | |
| |
| Now in more subtle wreaths I will entwine | |
| My sinewy limbs, my arms and legs, with thine. | 80 |
| Thou like a sea of milk shalt lie display’d, | |
| Whilst I the smooth calm ocean will invade, | |
| With such a tempest, as when Jove of old | |
| Fell down on Danæ in a stream of gold; | |
| Yet my tall pinnace shall in the Cyprian strait | 85 |
| Ride safe at anchor, and unload her freight: | |
| My rudder with thy bold hand, like a tried | |
| And skilful pilot, thou shalt steer, and guide | |
| My Bark into Love’s channel, where it shall | |
| Dance, as the bounding waves do rise or fall. | 90 |
| |
| Then shall thy circling arms embrace and clip | |
| My naked body, and thy balmy lip | |
| Bathe me in juice of kisses, whose perfume | |
| Like a religious incense shall consume, | |
| And send up holy vapours to those powers | 95 |
| That bless our loves and crown our sportful hours: | |
| That with such Halcyon calmness fix our souls | |
| In steadfast peace, that no annoy controuls. | |
| There no rude sounds fright us with sudden starts; | |
| No jealous ears, when we unrip our hearts, | 100 |
| Suck our discourse in; no observing spies | |
| This blush, that glance traduce; no envious eyes | |
| Watch our close meetings: nor are we betray’d | |
| To rivals, by the bribed Chambermaid. | |
| No wedlock bonds unwreath our twisted love; | 105 |
| We seek no midnight Arbour nor dark grove, | |
| To hide our kisses: there the hated name | |
| Of husband, wife, chaste, modest, lust or shame, | |
| Are vain and empty words, whose very sound | |
| Was never heard in the Elysian ground. | 110 |
| All things are lawful there, that may delight | |
| Nature or unrestrained appetite: | |
| Like and enjoy: to will and act is one: | |
| We only sin when Love’s rites are not done. | |
| |
| The Roman Lucrece there reads the divine | 115 |
| Lectures of Love’s great master, Aretine, | |
| And knows as well as Lais how to move | |
| Her pliant body in the act of love. | |
| To quench the burning Ravisher, 2 she hurls | |
| Her limbs into a thousand winding curls, | 120 |
| And studies artful postures, such as be | |
| Carved on the bark of every neighbouring tree, | |
| By learned hands, that so adorned the rind | |
| Of those fair plants, which, as they lay entwined, | |
| Have fann’d their glowing fires. The Grecian dame, 3 | 125 |
| That in her endless Web toil’d for a name, | |
| As fruitless as her work, doth now display | |
| Her self before the youth of Ithaca, | |
| And th’ amorous sport of gamesome nights prefer | |
| Before dull dreams of the lost Traveller. 4 | 130 |
| Daphne hath broke her back, and that swift foot | |
| Which th’ angry Gods had fast’ned with a root | |
| To the fix’d earth, doth now unfetter’d run | |
| To meet th’ embraces of the youthful Sun. 5 | |
| She hangs upon him, like his Delphic Lyre; | 135 |
| Her kisses blow the old, and breathe new, fire; | |
| Full of her God, she sings inspired lays, | |
| Sweet Odes of love, such as deserve the Bays, | |
| Which she herself was. Next her, Laura lies | |
| In Petrarch’s learned arms, drying those eyes | 140 |
| That did in such sweet smooth-paced numbers flow, | |
| As made the world enamour’d of his woe. | |
| These, and ten thousand Beauties more, that died | |
| Slave to the Tyrant, 6 now enlarged deride | |
| His cancell’d Laws, and for their time mis-spent | 145 |
| Pay unto Love’s Exchequer double rent. | |
| |
| Come then, my Celia, we’ll no more forbear | |
| To taste our joys, struck with a Panic fear, | |
| But will depose from his imperious sway | |
| This proud Usurper, and walk free as they, | 150 |
| With necks unyoked; nor is it just that he | |
| Should fetter your soft sex with chastity, | |
| Whom Nature made unapt for abstinence; | |
| When yet this false Impostor can dispense | |
| With human Justice and with sacred Right, | 155 |
| And (maugre both their laws) command me fight | |
| With Rivals, or when emulous Lovers dare | |
| Equal with thine their Mistress’ eyes or hair. | |
| If thou complain’st of wrong, and call my sword | |
| To carve out thy revenge, upon that word | 160 |
| He bids me fight and kill; or else he brands | |
| With marks of infamy my coward hands. | |
| And yet Religion bids from blood-shed fly, | |
| And damns me for that act. Then tell me why | |
| This goblin ‘Honour’, whom the world enshrined, | 165 |
| Should make men Atheists, and not women Kind? | |
