Poems on several occasions by the right honourable the E. of R-

The Imperfect Enjoyment.

NAked she lay, claspt in my longing Arms, I fill'd with Love, and she all over charms, Both equally inspir'd, with eager fire, Melting through kindness, flaming in desire.; With Arms, Legs, Lips, close clinging to embrace, She clips me to her Breast, and sucks me to her Face. The nimble Tongue (Love's lesser Lightning) plaid Within my Mouth, and to my thoughts convey'd. Swift Orders, that I shou'd prepare to throw, The All-dissolving Thunderbolt below. My flutt'ring Soul, sprung with the pointed kiss, Hangs hov'ring o're her Balmy Limbs of Bliss. But whilst her busie hand, wou'd guide that part, VVhich shou'd convey my Soul, up to her Heart. In liquid Raptures I dissolve all o're, Melt into Sperme, and spend at ev'ry Pore: A touch from any part of her had don't; Her Hand, her Foot, her very look's a Cunt. Smiling, she chids in a kind murm'ring Noise, And from her Body wips the clammy joys; VVhen with a Thousand Kisses, wand'ring o're, My panting Breast, and is there then no móre? She cries. All this to Love, and Rapture's due, Must we not pay a debt to pleasure too? But I the most forlone, lost Man alive, To shew my wisht Obedience vanly strive, I sing 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, Apply'd to my dead Cinder, warms no more, Than Fire to Ashes, cou'd past Flames restore. Trembling, confus'd, despairing, limber, dry, A wishing, weak, unmoving lump Hy, This Dart of love, whose piercing point oft try'd, With Virgin blood, ten thousand Maids has dy'd. Which Nature still directed with such Art, That it through ev'ry C—t, reacht ev'ry Heart. Stiffly resolv'd, twou'd carelesly invade, Woman or Boy, nor ought its fury staid, Where e're it pierc'd, a Cunt it found or made. Now languid lies, in this unhappy hour, Shrunk up, and Sapless, like a wither'd Flow'r. Thou treacherous, base, and deserter of my flame, False to my passion, fatal to my Fame; By what mistaken Magick dost thou prove, So true to lewdness, so untrue to Love? What Oyster, Cinder, Beggar, common Whore, Didst thou e're fail in all thy Life before? When Vice, Disease and Scandal lead the way, VVith what officious hast dost thou obey? Like a Rude-roaring Hector, in the Streets, That Scuffles, Cuffs, and Ruffles all he meets; But if his King, or Country, claim his Aid, The Rascal Villain, shrinks, and hides his head: Ev'n so thy Brutal Valor, is displaid, Breaks ev'ry Stews, does each small Whore invade,

But if great Love, the onset does command, Base recreant, to thy Prince, thou darst not stand VVorst part of me, and henceforth hated most, Through all the Town, the common Fucking Post; On whom each Whore, relieves her tingling Cunt, As Hogs, on Goats, do rub themselves and grunt. May'st thou to rav'nous Shankers, be a Prey, Or in consuming Weepings wast away. May Stranguries, and Stone, thy Dayes attend. May'st thou Piss, who didst refuse to spend, When all my joyes, did on false thee depend. And may ten thousand abler Pricks agree, To do the wrong'd Corinna, right for thee.