Verse > Anthologies > T. R. Smith, ed. > Poetica Erotica: A Collection of Rare and Curious Amatory Verse
T. R. Smith, comp.  Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse.  1921–22.
Sylvia a May Roving
(A Broadside Song with music, c. 1720)

CURIOSITY made Sylvia Seek the various Flowers of May
When Spring the op’ning Buds does break in Blossoms sweet and Gay.
Her pleased and lovely Eyes intent, a Beauteous Bank Espied,
Where Curious nature Chiefly meant to Manifest her Pride.
Hard by the Brooks and murmuring stream,        5
  The Silver Current Plaid,
And Phœbus with his brightest Beams
  The Morning had arrayed,
The whispering Zephyrs gently blow,
  A cool and Pleasant Breeze,        10
To shake the Clust’ring pearly Dews
  From off the verdant Trees.
Delighted was the Rural Maid,
  And did her Joys Express,
To see each Meadow and each glade,        15
  Adorned in such a dress,
Her snowy Fingers called and wrest,
  The Flowers of the Mead,
To make a Posie for her Breast,
  That did their sweets exceed.        20
But Musing as she walked along,
  She heard with great Surprise,
Soft accents break in to a Song,
  But where could not devise,
She cast her beamy Eyes around,        25
  And thought that from the Shade,
Proceeded the Harmonious sound,
  That did her ease invade.
The melting voice did please so well
  That unalarmed by fear,        30
Down on a Flow’ry Bank she fell
  And lent her Ravished Ear,
O Love, O Nature, then she cried,
  What Strength can Woman boast
When you much Greater do provide,        35
  That we may quite be lost.
At this young Strephon straight appear’d.
  How Great was then her Joy,
How Small, how careless was the fear
  This did her Breast imploy,        40
He wond’ring saw her Case was such,
  To Blush and then turn Pale,
But then he ailed himself too much,
  To ask what She did ail.
Confused he Pressed her in his Arms,        45
  She knew not what he did,
She gave up all her Virgin Charms,
  And nothing could forbid,
To Gather Flowers the pretty Maid,
  Came Innocently Thither,        50
Tho’ some malicious Tongues have said,
  ’Twas to be Gathered rather.

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