| T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22. | | | | Celia Vanquished | | Anonymous |
| | (From The Festival of Love, 1789)
CELIA! you’ll kill me, by the lord! | |
| You know I’ve suffered like a martyr; | |
| Nor have I yet had one kind word, | |
| Nor seen an inch above your garter. | |
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| Can you forget, ungrateful maid, | 5 |
| How long my constant flame has lasted? | |
| What nonsense have I sung and said, | |
| What ink and paper have I wasted? | |
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| Ah, cruel nymph! you know full well, | |
| With what a pure, becoming zeal | 10 |
| I’ve begged your snowy bosom’s swell, | |
| And every other swell to feel! | |
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| And round your taper waist to twine, | |
| Each inlet of delight to prove! | |
| Our hearts, our lips, our souls to join! | 15 |
| And can you still, still doubt my love? | |
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| What, unconvinced? the Devil’s in it! | |
| Well then, this proof shall calm your fears, | |
| And if the warm expressive minute, | |
| Speak not more love than days of tears. | 20 |
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| Unless each palpitating nerve, | |
| Each kindling vein confess me true, | |
| Treat me at length as I deserve, | |
| And banish me from joy and you! | | | | |
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