The poems of John Wilmot: Earl of Rochester :: :: University of Virginia Library

Fair Cloris in a Piggsty lay
Her tender herd lay by her
She slept; in murmring Gruntlings they
Complayneing of the scorching Day
Her slumbers thus inspire.

She dream't while she with carefull pains
Her snowy Arms employ'd
In Ivory pailes to fill out graines
One of her Love Convicted Swaines
Thus hasting to her cry'd.

Fly Nymph oh! fly e're 'tis too late
A Dear lov'd Life to save
Rescue your bosom Pigg from fate
Who now expires hung in the Gate
That leads to Floras Cave.

My selfe had try'd to sett him free
Rather then brought the newes
But I am so abhorr'd by Thee
That even thy darlings Life from Mee
I know thou wouldst refuse.

Struck with the newes as quick she flies
As blushes to her face
Not the bright Lightning from the Skies
Nor Love shott from her brighter eies
Move halfe so swift a pace.

This Plott it seems the Lustfull Slave
Had layd against her Honor
Which not one God took care to save
For he pursues her to the Cave
And throwes him selfe upon her.

Now peirced is her virgin Zoan
She feels the Foe within it
She heares a broken Amorous groan
The panting Lovers fainting moan
Just in the happy minute.

Frighted she wakes and wakeing Friggs
Nature thus kindly eas'd
In dreams rais'd by her murmring Piggs
And her own Thumb between her leggs
She's Innocent and pleas'd.