The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D Volume I Part 33

Corinna wakes. A dreadful sight!

Behold the ruins of the night!

A wicked rat her plaster stole, Half eat, and dragg'd it to his hole.

The crystal eye, alas! was miss'd; And puss had on her plumpers p--st, A pigeon pick'd her issue-pease: And Shock her tresses fill'd with fleas.

The nymph, though in this mangled plight Must ev'ry morn her limbs unite.

But how shall I describe her arts To re-collect the scatter'd parts?

Or show the anguish, toil, and pain, Of gath'ring up herself again?

The bashful Muse will never bear In such a scene to interfere.

Corinna, in the morning dizen'd, Who sees, will spew; who smells, be poison'd.

[Footnote 1: See Cunningham's "Handbook of London." Bridewell was the Prison to which harlots were sent, and were made to beat hemp and pick oak.u.m and were whipped if they did not perform their tasks. See the Plate in Hogarth's "Harlot's Progress." The Prison has, happily, been cleared away. The hall, court room, etc., remain at 14, New Bridge Street. The Compter, a similar Prison, was also abolished.

For details of these abominations, see "London Past and Present,"

by Wheatley.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 2: Jamaica seems to have been regarded as a place of exile. See "A quiet life and a good name," _ante_, p. 152.--_W. E. B_.]

[Footnote 3: See _ante_, p. 78, "Descripton of a City Shower."--_W. E. B_.]

STREPHON AND CHLOE 1731

Of Chloe all the town has rung, By ev'ry size of poets sung: So beautiful a nymph appears But once in twenty thousand years; By Nature form'd with nicest care, And faultless to a single hair.

Her graceful mien, her shape, and face, Confess'd her of no mortal race: And then so nice, and so genteel; Such cleanliness from head to heel; No humours gross, or frouzy steams, No noisome whiffs, or sweaty streams, Before, behind, above, below, Could from her taintless body flow: Would so discreetly things dispose, None ever saw her pluck a rose.[1]

Her dearest comrades never caught her Squat on her hams to make maid's water: You'd swear that so divine a creature Felt no necessities of nature.

In summer had she walk'd the town, Her armpits would not stain her gown: At country dances, not a nose Could in the dog-days smell her toes.

Her milk-white hands, both palms and backs, Like ivory dry, and soft as wax.

Her hands, the softest ever felt, [2] Though cold would burn, though dry would melt.

Dear Venus, hide this wond'rous maid, Nor let her loose to spoil your trade.

While she engrosses ev'ry swain, You but o'er half the world can reign.

Think what a case all men are now in, What ogling, sighing, toasting, vowing!

What powder'd wigs! what flames and darts!

What hampers full of bleeding hearts!

What sword-knots! what poetic strains!

What billets-doux, and clouded canes!

But Strephon sigh'd so loud and strong, He blew a settlement along; And bravely drove his rivals down, With coach and six, and house in town.

The bashful nymph no more withstands, Because her dear papa commands.

The charming couple now unites: Proceed we to the marriage rites.

_Imprimis_, at the Temple porch Stood Hymen with a flaming torch: The smiling Cyprian G.o.ddess brings Her infant loves with purple wings: And pigeons billing, sparrows treading, Fair emblems of a fruitful wedding.

The Muses next in order follow, Conducted by their squire, Apollo: Then Mercury with silver tongue; And Hebe, G.o.ddess ever young.

Behold, the bridegroom and his bride Walk hand in hand, and side by side; She, by the tender Graces drest, But he, by Mars, in scarlet vest.

The nymph was cover'd with her _flammeum_[3], And Phoebus sung th'epithalamium[4].

And last, to make the matter sure, Dame Juno brought a priest demure.

[5]Luna was absent, on pretence Her time was not till nine months hence.

The rites perform'd, the parson paid, In state return'd the grand parade; With loud huzzas from all the boys, That now the pair must crown their joys.

But still the hardest part remains: Strephon had long perplex'd his brains, How with so high a nymph he might Demean himself the wedding-night: For, as he view'd his person round, Mere mortal flesh was all he found: His hand, his neck, his mouth, and feet, Were duly wash'd, to keep them sweet; With other parts, that shall be nameless, The ladies else might think me shameless.

The weather and his love were hot; And, should he struggle, I know what-- Why, let it go, if I must tell it-- He'll sweat, and then the nymph may smell it; While she, a G.o.ddess dyed in grain, Was unsusceptible of stain, And, Venus-like, her fragrant skin Exhaled ambrosia from within.

Can such a deity endure A mortal human touch impure?

How did the humbled swain detest His p.r.i.c.kly beard, and hairy breast!

His night-cap, border'd round with lace, Could give no softness to his face.

Yet, if the G.o.ddess could be kind, What endless raptures must he find!

And G.o.ddesses have now and then Come down to visit mortal men; To visit and to court them too: A certain G.o.ddess, G.o.d knows who, (As in a book he heard it read,) Took Col'nel Peleus[6] to her bed.

But what if he should lose his life By vent'ring on his heavenly wife!

(For Strephon could remember well, That once he heard a school-boy tell, How Semele,[7] of mortal race, By thunder died in Jove's embrace.) And what if daring Strephon dies By lightning shot from Chloe's eyes!

While these reflections fill'd his head, The bride was put in form to bed: He follow'd, stript, and in he crept, But awfully his distance kept.

Now, "ponder well, ye parents dear;"

Forbid your daughters guzzling beer; And make them ev'ry afternoon Forbear their tea, or drink it soon; That, ere to bed they venture up, They may discharge it ev'ry sup; If not, they must in evil plight Be often forc'd to rise at night.

Keep them to wholesome food confin'd, Nor let them taste what causes wind: 'Tis this the sage of Samos means, Forbidding his disciples beans.[8]

O! think what evils must ensue; Miss Moll, the jade, will burn it blue; And, when she once has got the art, She cannot help it for her heart; But out it flies, even when she meets Her bridegroom in the wedding-sheets.

_Carminative_ and _diuretic_[9]

Will damp all pa.s.sion sympathetic; And Love such nicety requires, One blast will put out all his fires.

Since husbands get behind the scene, The wife should study to be clean; Nor give the smallest room to guess The time when wants of nature press; But after marriage practise more Decorum than she did before; To keep her spouse deluded still, And make him fancy what she will.

In bed we left the married pair; 'Tis time to show how things went there.

Strephon, who had been often told That fortune still a.s.sists the bold, Resolved to make the first attack; But Chloe drove him fiercely back.

How could a nymph so chaste as Chloe, With const.i.tution cold and snowy, Permit a brutish man to touch her?

Ev'n lambs by instinct fly the butcher.

Resistance on the wedding-night Is what our maidens claim by right; And Chloe, 'tis by all agreed, Was maid in thought, in word, and deed.

Yet some a.s.sign a different reason; That Strephon chose no proper season.

Say, fair ones, must I make a pause, Or freely tell the secret cause?

Twelve cups of tea (with grief I speak) Had now constrain'd the nymph to leak.

This point must needs be settled first: The bride must either void or burst.

Then see the dire effects of pease; Think what can give the colic ease.

The nymph oppress'd before, behind, As ships are toss'd by waves and wind, Steals out her hand, by nature led, And brings a vessel into bed; Fair utensil, as smooth and white As Chloe's skin, almost as bright.

Strephon, who heard the fuming rill As from a mossy cliff distil, Cried out, Ye G.o.ds! what sound is this?

Can Chloe, heavenly Chloe,----?

But when he smelt a noisome steam Which oft attends that lukewarm stream; (Salerno both together joins,[10]

As sov'reign med'cines for the loins:) And though contriv'd, we may suppose, To slip his ears, yet struck his nose; He found her while the scent increast, As mortal as himself at least.

But soon, with like occasions prest He boldly sent his hand in quest (Inspired with courage from his bride) To reach the pot on t'other side; And, as he fill'd the reeking vase; Let fly a rouser in her face.

The little Cupids hov'ring round, (As pictures prove) with garlands crown'd, Abash'd at what they saw and heard, Flew off, nor ever more appear'd.

Adieu to ravishing delights, High raptures, and romantic flights; To G.o.ddesses so heav'nly sweet, Expiring shepherds at their feet; To silver meads and shady bowers, Dress'd up with amaranthine flowers.

How great a change! how quickly made!

They learn to call a spade a spade.

They soon from all constraint are freed; Can see each other do their need.

On box of cedar sits the wife, And makes it warm for dearest life; And, by the beastly way of thinking, Find great society in stinking.

Now Strephon daily entertains His Chloe in the homeliest strains; And Chloe, more experienc'd grown, With int'rest pays him back his own.

No maid at court is less asham'd, Howe'er for selling bargains fam'd, Than she to name her parts behind, Or when a-bed to let out wind.

Fair Decency, celestial maid!

Descend from Heaven to Beauty's aid!

Though Beauty may beget desire, 'Tis thou must fan the Lover's fire; For Beauty, like supreme dominion, Is best supported by Opinion: If Decency bring no supplies, Opinion falls, and Beauty dies.

To see some radiant nymph appear In all her glitt'ring birth-day gear, You think some G.o.ddess from the sky Descended, ready cut and dry: But ere you sell yourself to laughter, Consider well what may come after; For fine ideas vanish fast, While all the gross and filthy last.

O Strephon, ere that fatal day When Chloe stole your heart away, Had you but through a cranny spy'd On house of ease your future bride, In all the postures of her face, Which nature gives in such a case; Distortions, groanings, strainings, heavings, 'Twere better you had lick'd her leavings, Than from experience find too late Your G.o.ddess grown a filthy mate.

Your fancy then had always dwelt On what you saw and what you smelt; Would still the same ideas give ye, As when you spy'd her on the privy; And, spite of Chloe's charms divine, Your heart had been as whole as mine.

Authorities, both old and recent, Direct that women must be decent; And from the spouse each blemish hide, More than from all the world beside.

Unjustly all our nymphs complain Their empire holds so short a reign; Is, after marriage, lost so soon, It hardly lasts the honey-moon: For, if they keep not what they caught, It is entirely their own fault.

They take possession of the crown, And then throw all their weapons down: Though, by the politician's scheme, Whoe'er arrives at power supreme, Those arts, by which at first they gain it, They still must practise to maintain it.

What various ways our females take To pa.s.s for wits before a rake!

And in the fruitless search pursue All other methods but the true!