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Naked she lay; clasped in my longing arms,
I filled
with love, and she all over charms;
Both equally inspired
with eager fire,
Melting through kindness in desire.
With
arms, legs, lips close clinging to embrace,
She clips me
to her breast, and sucks me to her face.
Her nimble tongue,
Love's lesser lightning, played
Within my mouth, and to my
thoughts conveyed
Swift orders that I should prepare to throw
The all-dissolving thunderbolt below.
My fluttering soul,
sprung with the pointed kiss,
Hangs hovering o'er her balmy
brinks of bliss.
But whilst her busy hand would guide that
part
Which should convey my soul up to her heart,
In liquid
raptures I dissolve all o'er,
Melt into sperm and spend at
every pore,
A touch from any part of her hand hand done 't:
Her hand, her foot, her very look's a cunt.
Smiling, she chides in a kind of murmuring noise,
And from
her body wipes the clammy joys,
When, with a thousand kisses
wandering o'er
My panting bosom, "Is there then no more?"
She cries "All this to love and raptures due:
Must we
not pay a debt to pleasure too?"
But I, the most forlorn, lost man alive,
To show my wished
obedience vainly strive;
I sigh, alas! and kiss, but cannot
swive.
Eager desires confound my first intent,
succeeding
shame does more success prevent,
And rage at last confirms
me impotent.
Ev'n her fair hand which might bid heat return
To frozen age, and make cold hermits burn,
Applied to my
dead cinder, warms no more
Than fire to ashes could past
flames restore.
Trembling, confused, despairing limber, dry,
A wishing, weak, unloving lump I lie.
This dart of love,
whose piercing point, oft tried,
With virgin blood ten thousand
maids have dyed;
Which nature still directed with such art
That it through every cunt reached every heart -
Stiffly
resolved 'twould carelessly invade
Woman or man, nor ought
its fury stayed:
Where'er it pierced, a cunt it found or
made -
Now languid lies in this unhappy hour,
Shrunk up
and sapless like a withered flower.
Thou treacherous, base deserter of my flame,
False to my
passion, fatal to my fame,
Through what mistaken magic dost
thou prove
So true to lewdness, so untrue to love?
What
oyster-cinder-beggar-common whore
Did'st thou e'er fail in
all thy life before?
When vice, disease, and scandal led
the way,
With what officious hast dost thou obey!
Like
a rude roaring hector in the streets
Who scuffles,
cuffs, and justles all he meets,
But if his King or country
claim his aid,
The rakehell villain shrinks and hides his
head;
Ev'n so thy brutal valour is displayed,
Breaks every
stew, does each small whore invade,
But when great Love the
onset does command,
Base recreant to thy prince, thou dar'st
not stand.
Worst part of me, and henceforth hated most,
Through all the town a common fucking post,
On whom each
whore relieves her tingling cunt
As hogs on gates do rub
themselves and grunt,
May'st thou to ravenous chancres be
a prey,
Or in consuming weepings waste away;
May strangury
and stone thy days attend;
May'st thou ne'er piss, who didst
refuse to spend
When all my joys did false on thee depend.
And may ten thousand abler pricks agree
To do the wronged Corinna right for thee.
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