Kick as you will

L’intérêt pour la femme chevaucheuse est beaucoup plus net dans un des Poèmes du Duc de Hanington, cité dans le célèbre monument fin de siècle Priapeia de R. Burton et Smithers, culmination ultime de la « phallolatrie » archéologique victorienne.

Il s’agit d’un jeu libertin autour de la figure de la chasse érotique, animé par le dialogue obscène entre la femme et sa monture, à la fois écho de la tenso des trouvères et figure de choix de la mise en discours du sexe, toujours hantée par la pornolalie.

Comme dans certaines compositions médiévales, le dialogue est ici entendu par une discrète voix lyrique qui fait le rôle de (audio)voyeur.

En accord avec la subversion de la posture physique (le texte insiste sur le fait que la femme n’a jamais « chevauché » au sens littéral, activité emblématique de la virilité aristocratique) la femme est ici initiatrice du Sir anonyme.

Le jeu de concetti sur le « siège de l’amour » renforce l’animalisation de la monture (« kick as you will ») qui accompagne la violence quasi allitérative des mouvements (« Spur'd like a fury on the squire (…) She made him caper, curvet, dance, Till both of them fell in a trance »).

'Last night, when to your bed I came,
You were a novice at the game,
I've taught you now a little skill
But I have more to teach you still,
Lie thus, dear Sir, I'll get above,
And teach you a new seat of love;
When I have got you once below me,
Kick as you will, you shall not throw me;
For tho' I ne'er a hunting rid,
I'll sit as fast as if I did,
Nor do I any stirrup need
To help me up upon my steed.'
This said, her legs she open'd wide,
And on her lover got astride,
And being in her saddle plac'd
Most lovingly the squire embrac'd,
Who viewed the wanton fair with wonder,
And smil'd, to see her keep him under,
While she, to show she would not tire,
Spur'd like a fury on the squire,
And tho' she ne'er had rid in France,
She made him caper, curvet, dance,
Till both of them fell in a trance.
Twas long e'er either did recover
At last she kissed her panting lover,
And, sweetly smiling in his face,
Ask'd him, 'How he liked the chase?'
He scarce could speak, his breath was short,
But sobbing, answer'd, 'Noble sport;
I'd give the best horse in my stable,
That either I or you were able
To ride another, for I own
There never was such pastime known.'
This answer pleased the frolic maid,
She sucked his breast and, laughing, said,
'If you, good Sir, resolve to try
Another gallop here am I,
Ready to answer your desire,
Nor will you find me apt to tire
In such a chase; I'll lay a crown,
Start you the game, I'll run it down.'
Thee squire overjoyed at what she said,
Hugg'd to his breast the sprightly maid;
For he was young and full of vigour,
And Cherry was a lovely figure,
Was ever cheerful, brisk and gay,
And had a most enticing way.
She kiss'd his eyes, she bit his breast,
Nor did her nimble fingers rest,
Till he had all his toil forgot,
And found his blood was boiling hot,
While Cherry (who was in her prime,
Still knew and always nick'd her time)
Bestrid the amorous squire once more,
And gallop'd faster than before,
Fearing the knight might interrupt her,
She toss'd and twirl'd upon her crupper;
Nor did she let her tongue he idle,
But thrust it in by way of bridle,
And giving him a close embrace,
Did finish the delightful chase.]