Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/116

106 How could a nymph so chaste as Chloe, With constitution 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 assign 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 constrained 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 colick 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 cliif distil, Cry'd out, Ye Gods! 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, As sovereign medicines for the loins;) And though contriv'd, we may suppose, To slip his ears, yet struck his nose: He