Prospect and Bower of Bliss, The. 
By Behn, Aphra. 


'Tis all eternal spring around,
And all the trees with fragrant flowers are crowned;
No clouds, no misty showers obscure the light,
But all is calm, serene, and gay;
The heavens are dressed with a perpetual bright,
And all the earth with everlasting May.
Each minute blows the Rose and Jesamine,
And twines with new-born Eglantine,
Each minute new discoveries bring,
Of something sweet, of something ravishing.

Fountains, wandering brooks, soft rills,
- That o'er the wanton pebbles play,
And all the woods with tender murmuring fills,
Inspiring love, inciting joy,
(The sole, the solemn business of the day) - 
Through all the groves, the glades, and thickets run,
And nothing see but love on all their banks along;
A thousand flowers of different kinds
The neighbouring meads adorn,
Whose sweetness, snatched by flying winds,
O'er all the Bow'r of Bliss is borne;
Whither all things in nature strive to bring
All that is soft, all that is ravishing.

The verdant banks no other prints retain,
But where young lovers, and young loves have lain.
For Love has nothing here to do
But to be wanton, soft, and gay,
And give a lavish loose to joy.
His emptied quiver, and his bow,
In flow'ry wreaths and rosy garlands crowned,
In myrtle shades are hung,
As conquerors when the victories won,
Dispose their glorious trophies all around.
Soft winds and echoes that do haunt each grove
Still whisper and repeat no other songs than love;
Which round about the sacred bower they sing,
Where every thing arrives that's sweet and ravishing.

A thousand gloomy walks the bower contains,
Sacred all to mighty love;
A thousand winding turns where pleasure reigns,
Obscured from day by twining boughs above,
Where Love invents a thousand plays,
Where lovers act ten thousand joys:
Nature has taught each little bird
A soft example to afford;
They bill and look, and sing and love,
And charm the air, and charm the grove;
Whilst underneath the ravished swain is lying,
Gazing, sighing, pressing, dying;
Still with new desire warmed,
Still with new joy, new rapture charmed;
Amongst the green soft rivulets do pass,
In winding streams half hid in flowers and grass,
Who purl and murmur as they glide along,
And mix their music with the shepherd's pipe and song,
Which echoes through the sacred bower repeat,
Where every thing arrives that's ravishing and sweet.

The virgin shows here no disdain,
Nor does the shepherd sigh in vain,
This knows no cruelty, nor that no pain:
No youth complains upon his rigorous fair,
No injured maid upon her perjured dear,
'Tis only love, fond love finds entrance here; - 
The notes of birds, the murmuring boughs,
When gentle winds glide through the glades,
Soft sighs of love, and soft breathed vows,
The tender whisperings of the yielding maids,
Dashing fountains, purling springs,
The short breathed cries from faint resistance sent,
(Cries which no aid desires or brings)
The soft effects of fear and languishment;
The little struggling of the fair,
The trembling force of the young conqueror,
The tender arguments he brings,
The pretty nonsense with which she assails,
Which as she speaks, she hopes it naught prevails,
But yielding owns her love above her reasonings,
Is all is heard; silence and shade the rest.
Which best with love, which best with joys consist,
All which young echoes through the bower does sing,
Where every thing is heard, that's sweet and ravishing.

Recesses dark and grottos all conspire
To favour love and soft desire;
Shades, springs, and fountains' flow'ry beds
To joys invites, to pleasure leads,
To pleasure which all human thought exceeds.
Heav'n, earth, and sea here all combine
To propagate love's great design,
And render the appointments all divine.
After long toil, 'tis here the lover reaps
Transporting softnesses beyond his hopes;
'Tis here fair eyes, all languishing impart
The secrets of the fond inclining heart;
Fine hands and arms for tender pressings made,
In Love's dear business always are employed:
The soft enchantments of the tongue,
That does all other eloquence control,
Is breathed, with broken sighs among,
Into the ravished shepherd's soul,
Whilst all is taken, all is given,
That can complete lover's heaven:
And Io paeans through the woods do ring,
From new fletched god, in songs all ravishing.