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John Armstrong (Джон Армстронг) The Oeconomy of Love Thy bounties, Love, in thy soft raptures, when Timeliest the melting pairs indulge, and how Best to improve the genial joy, how shun The snakes that under rosy pleasure lurk, I sing; if thou, fair Cytherea, deign Gracious to smile on my attempt. Tho' thou None of the Muses nine, yet oft on thee The Muses wait, oft gambol in thy train, Tho' virgins. Come, nor leave thy Boy behind, Blind but unerring archer. Hymen, raise Aloft thy sacred torch: your gifts I sing. Ye youths and virgins, when your generous blood Has drunk the warmth of fifteen summers, now The loves invite; now to new rapture wakes The finish'd sense: while stung with keen desire The madd'ning boy his bashful fetters bursts; And, urg'd with secret flames, the riper maid, Conscious and shy, betrays her smarting breast. Yet Nature not in all her sons maintains An equal progress. This with kindly warmth Concocts to manly vigour strait, while that Pines crude and chill, and scarce at last attains Imperfect life. Some slight their varnish'd steed, And (wond'rous instinct!) bent on manlier sport, Cope with the maids. Alcides thus, they say, Rose brawny from his cradle, while the snakes Hung hissing round him, horrible and fell, Sent by enrag'd Saturnia, to destroy Her rival's hope: The mighty infant grasp'd His speckled foes, and, smiling, dash'd them down To hell, their native clime; the spumy gore Blotted the frighted pavement. Early thus Was future chivalry presag'd.--Mean time Others slow ripen. Men there are who scarce Feel the first thrillings of untaught desire; While pallid maids scarce ruminate on man Till twenty; well if then. It boots thee much To study the complexion, much the clime, And habitudes of life. Meanwhile, with me, Credit these signs. The boy may wrestle, when Night--working Fancy steals him to the arms Of nymph oft wish'd awake, and, 'mid the rage Of the soft tumult, ev'ry turgid cell Spontaneous disembogues its lucid store, Bland and of azure tinct. Nor envy thou Waking fruition, while such happy dreams Visit thy slumbers: liveliest then the touch Thrills to the brain, with all sensations else Unshaken, unseduc'd. The maid demands The dues of Venus, when the parting breasts Wanton exuberant, and tempt the touch, Plump'd with rich moisture from the finish'd growth Redundant now: for late the shooting tubes Drunk all the blood the toiling heart could pour, Insatiate; now, full--grown, they crave no more Than what repairs their daily waste. But still There must be loss, nor does the superplus Turn all to thrift. For from Love's grotto now Oozes the sanguine stream through many a rill, Startling the simple lass, that anxious glows Inward, till bold necessity o'ercomes Her fond reluctant blushes, to consult Her nurse, well vers'd in mystic cases deep, At christ'nings oft discuss'd, when, warm'd with wine, The mellow matrons, by the midnight fire Lewd Orgies hold; while naked roams around, His torch high--flaming from the spicy bowl, Lust full of glee, and thro' each lab'ring breast His sacred fury pours. The Sybil solves Sagely the dubious case.--The rising down Then too begins to skirt the hallow'd bounds Of Venus' blest domain. In either sex This sign obtains. For Nature, provident Now, when both sides stand equal for the fray, This graceful armour spreads: and, but for this, Excoriate oft the tender parts would rue The close encounter; now they fight secure, Thus harness'd, and sustain the mutual shock Of war unhurt, for many a well--fought day. But if to progeny thy views extend Paternal, and the name of sire invites, Wouldst thou behold a thriving race surround Thy spacious table, shun the soft embrace Emasculent, till twice ten years and more Have steel'd thy nerves, and let the holy rite License the bliss. Nor would I urge, precise, A total abstinence: this might unman The genial organs, unemploy'd so long, And quite extinguish the prolific flame, Refrigerant. But riot oft, unblam'd, On kisses, sweet repast! ambrosial joy! Now press with gentle hand the gentle hand, And, sighing, now the breasts, that to the touch Heave amorous. Nor thou, fair maid, refuse Indulgence, while thy paramour discreet Aspires no farther. Thus thou may'st expect Treasure hereafter, when the bridegroom, warm, Trembling with keen desire, profusely pours The rich collection of enamour'd years; Exhaustless, blessing all thy nuptial nights. But, O my son, whether the generous care Of propagation and domestic charge, Or soft encounter more attract, renounce The vice of monks recluse, the early bane Of rising manhood. Banish from thy shades Th'ungenerous, selfish, solitary joy. Hold, parricide, thy hand! For thee alone Did Nature form thee? for thy narrow self Grant thee the means of pleasure? Dream'st thou so? That very self mistakes its wiser aim; Its finer sense ungratified, unpleas'd, But when from active soul to soul rebounds The swelling mingling tumult of delight, Hold yet again! e'er idle callus wrap In sullen indolence th'astonish'd nerves, When thou may'st fret and tease thy sense in vain, And curse too late th'unwisely wanton hours. Impious! forbear thus the first general hail. To disappoint, Increase and multiply, To shed thy blossoms thro' the desert air, And sow thy perish'd offspring in the winds. Unhallow'd pastime!--Tho' the factious chief Oft brew hot insurrection, rather hie To bagnio lewd or tavern, nightly where Venereal rites are done, from Draco's ken Remote, and light of heaven; (as erst retir'd The heaving Gallic saints to the kind gloom Of clift, or cave, or trusted barn, to hold Forbidden sabbaths); rather visit thou Those haunts of public lewdness; oft tho' there Sore ills dismay. Purse, or the golden pride That decks thy finger, gorgeous with the spoils Of Mexico, Peru, and farthest Ind, Or watch time--measuring, oft subtracted sly, Sink in the dark profound. And oft, to crush Thy slacken'd manhood in the mid career Of puissant deeds, untimely rushes in A froward boist'rous wight, and from thy arms The passive spouse of all the town demands. Him, hungering after gold, nor words can charm, No more persuasive wine; thy gold must pay The violation of the public bed; Or braver steel must prove thy manly arm In dubious fight. Yet well if here could end The mis'ry: worse perhaps ensues; a train Of ills of tedious count and horrid name; Such as of old distress'd the man else squar'd To God's own heart, but that he wide debauch'd Jerusalem's fair daughters to his flames Unquench'd; nor from the holy marriage--bed Refrain'd his loose embraces, when the wife Of wrong'd Urias he seduc'd; nor stopt Till murder crown'd his lust. Hence him the wrath Of righteous Heaven, awaking, long pursu'd With sore disease, and fill'd his loins with pain; All day he roar'd, and all the tedious night Bedew'd his couch with tears; and still his groans Breathe musical in Sacred song. What woes! What pains he try'd! But now this plague attacks With double rancour, and severely marks Modern offenders; undermines at once The fame and nose, that by unseemly lapse, Aukward, deforms the human face divine With ghastly ruins. Tho' this breach, they say, Nice Taliacotius' art, with substitute From porters borrow'd, or the callous breech Of sedentary weaver, oft repair'd, Precarious; for no sooner fate demands The parent stock, than (pious sympathy!) Revolts th'adopted nose.--Such ills attend Th'obscene embrace of harlots. Wiser thou; Find some soft nymph, whom tender sympathy Attracts to thee, while all her captives else, Aw'd by majestic beauty, mourn aloof Her charms, to thee by nuptial vows, and choice More sure, devoted. Sacrifice to her The precious hours, nor grudge, with such a mate, The summer's day to toy or winter's night. Now, with your happy arms her waist surround, Fond--grasping; on her swelling bosom now Recline your cheek, with eager kisses press Her balmy lips, and, drinking from her eyes Resistless love, the tender flame confess, Ineffable but by the murmuring voice Of genuine joy; then hug and kiss again, Strech'd on the flow'ry turf, while joyful glows Thy manly pride, and, throbbing with desire, Pants earnest, felt thro' all the obstacles That interveen: but love, whose fervent course Mountains nor seas oppose, can soon remove Barriers so slight. Then when her lovely limbs, Oft lovely deem'd, far lovelier now beheld, Thro' all your trembling joints increase the flame, Forthwith discover to her dazzled sight The stately novelty, and to her hand Usher the new acquaintance. She, perhaps Averse, will coldly chide, and half afraid, Blushing, half pleas'd, the tumid wonder view With neck retorted, and oblique regard; Nor quite her curious eye indulging, nor Refraining quite. Perhaps when you attempt The sweet admission, toyful she resists With shy reluctance; nathless you pursue The soft attack, and push the gentle war Fervent, till quite o'erpower'd the melting maid Faintly opposes. On the brink at last Arriv'd of giddy rapture, plunge not in Precipitant, but spare a virgin's pain; Oh, spare a gentle virgin! spare yourself! Lest sanguine war Love's tender rites profane With fierce dilaceration, and dire pangs Reciprocal. Nor droop because the door Of bliss seems shut and barricaded strong; But triumph rather in this faithful pledge Of innocence, and fair virginity Inviolate. And hence the subtile wench, Her maiden honours torn, in evil hour Unseemly torn, and shrunk her virgin rose, Studious how best the guilty wound to heal, Her shame best palliate with fair outward shew, Inward less strict, with painful hand collects The sylvan store. The lover myrtle yields Her styptic berries, and the horrid thorn Its prune austere; in vain the caper hides Its wandering roots; the mighty oak himself, Sole tyrant of the shade, that long had 'scap'd The tanner's rage, spoil'd of his callous rhind, Stands bleak and bare. These, and a thousand more Of humbler growth, and far inferior name, Bistort and dock, and that way--faring herb Plantain, her various forage, boil'd in wine, Yield their astringent force, a lotion prov'd Thrice powerful to contract the shameful breach. Beware of these; for in our dangerous days Such counterfeits abound: whom next to know Concerns. And here expect no dye of wound, No wound is made; the corrugated parts, With ill--dissembled virtue, (tho' severe, Not wrinkled into frowns when genuine most), Relapse apace, and quit their borrow'd tone. Yet judge with charity the varied work Of Nature's hand. Perhaps the purple stream, Emollient bath, leaves flexible and lax The parts it lately wash'd. But hapless he In nuptial night, on whom a horrid chasm Yawns dreadful, waste and wild, like that through which The wand'ring Greek, and Cytherea's son, Diving, explor'd hell's adamantine gates: An unessential void; where neither love Nor pleasure dwells, where warm creation dies, Starv'd in th'abortive gulf; the dire effects Of use too frequent, or for love or gold. Now hear me, Lovers, ye whose roving hearts No sacred nuptial chains have yet confin'd, Attentive hear, and daily, nightly weigh The counsels sage which, thro' thy raptur'd breast, To you th'auspicious heavenly Muse conveys: The Muse, no soothing minister of vice, Tho' now, in sportive vein, to youthful ears She tunes her song, to give instruction grace. Attend, ye wise: No frantic Bacchanal, No shameless bard of the licentious rout Of flush'd Silenus, sings.--What Nature bids Is good, is wise, and faultless we obey. We must obey: howe'er hard Stoic dreams Of apathy, much vaunted, seldom prov'd: For oft beneath the philosophic gloom Sly lewdness lurks, and oftner mazy Guile, That with well--mimic'd love th'unwary heart Lures to its fate, and hails while it betrays. There bloated Pride too dwells, and baneful Hate, And dark Revenge, than which a deadlier fiend Ne'er pour'd its venom thro' a human breast. Far hence be these. We know great Nature's pow'r, Mother of things, whose vast unbounded sway From the deep centre all around extends Wide to the flaming barriers of the world. We feel her power; we strive not to repress (Vainly repress'd, or to deformity) Her lawful growth: ours be the task alone To check her rude excrescencies, to prune Her wanton overgrowth, and where she strays In uncouth shapes, to lead her gently back, With prudent hand, to form and better use. For wisest ends this universal Power Gave appetites, from whose quick impulse life Subsists, by which we only live, all life Insipid else, unactive, unenjoy'd. Hence to this peopled earth, which, that extinct, That flame for propagation, soon would roll A lifeless mass, and vainly cumber heaven. Then love of pleasure sways each heart, and we From that no more than from ourselves can fly. Blameless when govern'd well. But where it errs Extravagant, and wildly leads to ill, Public or private, there its curbing pow'r Cool reason must exert.--This lesson weigh, Ye tender pairs, indulge your gentle flames, Each fondest wish, and bathe your souls in love; But let discretion guard the hour of bliss, Virtuous in pleasure. So shall you enjoy Pleasure unmix'd, and without thorn the rose. This caution scorn'd, beware th'event perverse: Expect for pleasure, pain and sharp remorse; For love, aversion; and each broken vow, The jest of fools, the pity of the wise. Be secret, Lovers: let no dangerous spy Catch your soft glances, as oblique they deal Mutual contagion, darting all the soul In missive love, nor hear your lab'ring sighs. But chiefly when the high--wrought rapture calls Impatient to soft deeds, then, then retire From ev'ry mortal ken. The sapient king, (Whose loves who could defame?) in the mild gloom Deep in the centre of his gardens hid, Held dalliance with his fair Egyptian spouse. Find then some soft obscure retreat, untrod By mortals else, where thick embow'ring shades Condense to darkness, and embrown the day; There, safe from all profane access, pursue Love's bashful rites. For oft the curious eye Of prying childhood, and th'aspect malign, Waning and wan, of virgin stale in years, Shed baneful influence on the rites of love. And thou, my son, when floods of mellowing wine And social joys have loosen'd all thy breast, When every secret gushes, this at least, This one reserve, of love and bounteous charms, Of trusting beauty, venturing all for thee, For thy delight, her fortune and her fame; For her thou nothing. Hold! ingrateful, hold Thy wanton tongue. Leave to the last of fools, Of villains! that ungenerous vanity, Cruel and base, to vaunt of secret joys; Of joys on thee, so vaunting, ill bestow'd. O dare not thus with mortal sting to wound The tender helpless sex. Does thy vile breath So blast my sister's or my daughter's fame,-- By Heaven thou diest! thy treach'rous blood alone Can wash my honour clean. Prudent mean time, Ye generous maids, revenge your sex's wrong; Let not the mean destroyer e'er approach Your sacred charms. Now muster all your pride, Contempt and scorn, that, shot from Beauty's eye, Confounds the mighty impudent, and smites The front unknown to shame. Trust not his vows, His labour'd sighs, and well--dissembled tears, Nor swell the triumph of known perjury. Mean while, my son, if angry fate, or love Grown indiscreet, or loud Lucina, tell Th'important secret; is thy mate well form'd, Virtuous, and equal for thy lawful bed? Save her, I charge thee, from foul infamy, And lonely shame; let wedlock's holy tye Legitimate th'indissoluble flames. If abject birth, dishonourable, and mind Incultivate or vicious, to that height Forbid her hopes to climb, at least secure From penury her humble state, by thee Else humbled more, and to necessity, Stern foe to virtue, fame, and life, betray'd, A helpless prey. O! let no parent's woe, No plaints of trusting innocence, nor tears Of pining beauty, blast thy guilty joys. Shall she, so late the soft'ner of thy life, Thy chief delight, whose melting essence oft Lay with thy melting essence kindly mix'd; (As far as bodies and embodied souls Can mingle); she who deem'd thy vows sincere, Thy passion more than selfish, and thy love To her devoted, as was hers to thee: Shall she (O cruel perfidy!) at last, When with her tainted name the winds grow sick, When envious prudery chides, affecting scorn Of natural joys, and they of public fame Insulting hail her sister, while each friend Disgusted flies; shall she not find in thee Unshaken amity? When to thy arms, Well--known, with wonted confidence she flies, To pour her sorrows forth, and sooth her cares, Shall she then find thy faithless heart from home, From her enstrang'd? At that disast'rous hour Wilt thou ungently spurn her from thy love, To waste in sickly grief her once--priz'd charms, Forlorn to languish out her life, to lead Despis'd, unwedded, her dishonour'd days? Or, if her barren fortune, hard like thee, Scowls meagre want, (whose iron empire, Pride Reluctant, and her offspring Modesty Blushing, at last obey), unskill'd in arts Of mercenary Venus, to increase The rompish band, that, without pleasure lewd, With deep--felt sorrow gay, thro' Trivia's reign Nightly solicit lovers; oft repuls'd; Oft, when invited to the barren toil, Thankless deserted by their slipp'ry loves; Or to the salt of years, where tedious lust Uncouth and monstrous creeps thro' freezing loins, Patient submitted; to the boist'rous will Of midnight ruffians, to abhorr'd disease, Hourly expos'd, and Draco's fiercer rage. Spare, mighty Draco! spare a hapless race, By thy own sex to wretchedness betray'd. A woman bore thee; by each tender name Of woman, spare. Hast thou or daughter fair, Or sister? They, but for a happier birth, The gift of Fate, and Honour's guardian, Pride Early inspir'd, had swell'd the common stream; While she, whom now thy awful name dismays, Portentous heard from far, with Fortune's smiles And fair example, might have grac'd thy bed, A virtuous mate in every charm compleat. A pious duty next, neglected oft Demands my song. If from thy secret bed Of luxury unbidden offspring rise, Let them be kindly welcom'd to the day. 'Tis Nature bids. To Nature's high behests Attend, and from the monster--breeding deep, The ravag'd air, and howling wilderness, Learn parent virtues. Shall the growling bear Be more a sire than thou? An infant once, Helpless and weak, but for paternal care, Thou hadst not liv'd to propagate a race To mis'ry, to resign to step--dame Fate Perhaps a worthier offspring than thy sire Tenderly rear'd. For from the stol'n embrace, Untir'd with worn acquaintance, keenly urg'd, Elate with generous rapture, likeliest springs The noblest blood, most animated, best. What heroes hence have issued! what fam'd chiefs, And demi--gods of old! The stealth of love Gave Greece her Hercules, and mighty Rome First rose beneath a random son of Mars. Thy vigour too, the blossom of thy strength, Reckless and wild profus'd, in dangerous days, Or in the senate wise, and nobly warm To public good, may save the rushing state; Or, bold in arms, may roll her thunders forth To shatter distant skies, and, rous'd to blood, Usher the British Lion to the field. Thy country claims thy care; nurse well her hopes, And thine; nor thou her church's hungry wolves, High Overseers, with thine own childrens' gore Satiate, if Rapine know satiety. For, bred to death, and of sagacious nose, A prowling herd, lur'd with the recent smell Of secret birth, their carnage sweet, or led By infant wailings querulous and shrill, Beset thy frighted gates. These timely thou Prevent, or mourn too late thy ravish'd gold And captive son, to the street--dunning tribe Of mendicants let out, fictitious badge Of low distress: there to what life of pain Led up who knows? to what disgraceful fate, What gibbet bred? Or from his parents' arms, With nurse unpitying, unbenign, exil'd To squalid lodge, to find in Famine's cave A lingering death; or by a deadlier hag, Than her that rides the lab'ring night, oppress'd, Untimely sink beneath a heavier fate. While they, the sons of licens'd rapine, screen'd Under the altar of the god of life With murder stain'd, on what should raise thy son Nightly regale carnivorous: for them The heifer bleeds, or for her slaughter'd young Roams wild the woodland bounds: and what should now To thy young hopes run soft in balmy rills Lacteous, to them in deep Oporto flows, Or hot Madeira. Thus the sanguine feast They crown, nor dread the cry of infant--blood. These precepts wisely keep; by these direct Thy steps thro' Pleasure's labyrinth. Unhurt And unoffending thus thy tutor'd feet May tread the wilds of else--delusive joy. So shall no sorrows wound, no ruder cares Disturb thy pleasures, no remorseful tears Attend thy gay delight; nor sighs make way, But such as heave the pleasure--burden'd breast, As utter love, with speechless eloquence Well understood, and breathe from soul to soul The soft infection, fondly still receiv'd. Almighty Love! O unexhausted source Of universal joy! first principle Of Nature all--creating! harmony By which her mighty movements all are rul'd! Soft tyrant of each element! whose sway, Resistless through the wilds of air is felt, Through earth, and the deep empire of the main! Thy willing slaves, we own thy gentle pow'r In us supreme, with kind endearments rais'd Above the merely sensual touch of brutes. By thy soft charm the savage breast is tam'd, The genius rais'd. Thy heav'nly warmth inspires Whate'er is noble, generous, or humane, Or elegant; whate'er adorns the mind, Graces or sweetens life: and, without thee, Nothing, or gay, or amiable, appears.// Yet not to love, (thus polishing the soul, Thus charming, tho' of ev'ry finer breast The sovereign joy), yet not to love alone Yield languid all your hours. The self--same cates Still offer'd soon the appetite offends; The most delicious soonest. Other joys, Other pursuits, their equal share demand Of cultivation. These with kindly change Will cheer your sweetly--varied days; from these With quicker sense you shall, and firmer nerves, Return to Love, when Love again invites. Be those the least neglected which inform With virtue, sense, and elegance, the mind; Those what before was amiable improve, And lend to love new grace and dignity. Life too has serious cares, which madly scorn'd, The means of pleasure melt.--And age will come, When love, alas! the flower of human joys, Must shrink in horrid frost. O hapless he! Thrice hapless then! whose only joy was that; Whose young desires tumultuous still engage To wield a load of unobedient limbs, With vain attempt. Him the inclement pow'r Of craving Impotence, to fonder toys/////////////////////////// Than other dotage knows, or easy dup'd Credulity can well believe, incites. Him all the Nymphs despise, and the young Loves With leering scorn behold; while vigorous heat Has fled his shaken limbs, surviving still In his green fancy. Thence what desp'rate toil, By flagellation and the rage of blows, To rouse the Venus loitering in his veins! Fruitless, for Venus unsolicited The kindest smiles, abhorring painful rites. Cease, reverend fathers! from those youthful sports Retire, before unfinish'd feats betray Your slacken'd nerves. The hoary years, design'd For wisdom, for sedate philosophy And contemplation, ill agree with love. Cheerful retire; nor grudge in peevish saws, Like envious monitors, the sprightly joys Of lusty youth. You had your genial time Of pleasure; ours is on the rapid wing. And you whose youthful blood impetuous rolls, With generous spirits fraught and kindly balm, Husband your vigour well; if aught or health, Or offspring numerous, beautiful, and strong, Or pleasure weigh. For from the trite embrace Follow faint relaxation, strength impair'd, Disgust, and mutual apathy, Love's bane. Some boast, I know, their vigour to renew, And keen desire, by food restorative, Or pharmacy more noxious. Orchis hence, Lascivious bulb, Satyrion better nam'd, And that maritime, which the sea--born Queen Feeds with her native spume, Eryngo mild; Boletus, fam'd among the fungous tribe, And fell Cantharides, in various forms Are us'd. But what ensues? Diseases more Than ever burden'd Auster's dropping wings; Cold tremors, spasms, and cephalaea's dire, Eternal flux of Nature's balmy dew, Tabes, and gaunt marasinus, hideous loss Of godlike reason, and th'imprison'd rage Of fierce Lypyria, whose collected fires The vitals only seize. Or if the sons Of jaded luxury those plagues escape, They waste their melting youth, and bring grey hairs Before their time, grey hairs and idle years. Leave Nature to herself, nor covet more Than Nature gives, that but to real wants Each well--conducted appetite provokes. But chiefly thee, fair nymph, behoves to know That love and joy when in their prime must fear Decay, the fate of all created things. Be frugal then: the coyly--yielded kiss Charms most, and gives the most sincere delight. Cheapness offends: hence on the harlot's lip No rapture hangs, however fair she seem, However form'd for love and amorous play. Hail, Modesty! fair female honour, hail! Beauty's chief ornament, and Beauty's self! For Beauty must with Virtue ever dwell, And thou art Virtue! and without thy charm Beauty is insolent and wit profane. Thou giv'st the smile its grace, the heighten'd kiss Its balmy essence sweet! and but for thee The very raptures of the lawful bed Were outrage and foul riot, rites obscene! Celestial Maid! be it lawful that with lips Profane I name thee, and in wanton song: But in these vicious days great Nature's laws Are spurn'd; eternal Virtue, which no time Nor place can change, nor custom changing all, Is mock'd to scorn; and lewd Abuse instead, Daughter of Night, her shameless revels holds O'er half the globe, while the chaste face of Day Eclipses at her rites. For man with man, And man with woman, (monstrous to relate!) Leaving the natural road, themselves debase With deeds unseemly and dishonour foul. Britons, for shame! be male and female still. Banish this foreign vice; it grows not here; It dies neglected; and in clime so chaste Cannot but by forc'd cultivation thrive. So cultivated swells the more our shame, The more our guilt. And shall not greater guilt Meet greater punishment and heavier doom! Not lighter for delay. Did justice spare The men of Sodom erst? Like us they sinn'd, Like us they sought the paths of monstrous joy; Till, urg'd to wrath at last, all--patient Heaven Descending, wrapt them in sulphureous storm; And where proud palaces appear'd, the haunts Of luxury, now sleeps a sullen pool: Vengeful memorial of almighty ire, Against the sons of lewdness exercis'd! John Armstrong's other poems:
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