Faustina Bordoni’s “An Epistle from Signora F—to a Lady,” 1727
About Faustina Bordoni
Faustina Bordoni (1697–1781) was an Italian mezzo-soprano opera singer renowned for her exceptional vocal talent and dramatic stage presence during the Baroque era. Born in Venice, Bordoni began her singing career at a young age and quickly gained recognition throughout Europe for her virtuosic performances. She was celebrated for her expressive voice, agile technique, and ability to convey emotion through her singing. Bordoni performed in leading opera houses across Europe, captivating audiences with her interpretations of roles in operas by composers such as Handel, Vivaldi, and Porpora. She was particularly acclaimed for her collaborations with Handel, with whom she worked closely and for whom he composed several roles tailored to her voice. Beyond her vocal abilities, Bordoni was also known for her beauty and charisma, which contributed to her status as a beloved and influential figure in the world of opera during the 18th century.
Context
By simply googling the poem, the name Nicholas Amhurst appears as the author of this poem on several poetry sites, but the Internet Archive and several other scholarly sources list this as “a lesbian poem, intended for Faustina B. Hasse, the singer.” Marie Helena Loughlin includes this work in her anthology that represents female same-sex erotic relationships and desires; this poem is, however, missing from Dr. Faderman’s “Chloe Plus Olivia.”
Faustina Bordoni’s “An Epistle from Signora F—to a Lady” contains more controversy than meets the eye, as it is believed she wrote this to one of her fans. She was an opera singer, and she was in a battle against Francesca Cuzzoni. Scholars speculate this to be the work of Bordoni, and this love poem again uses female pronouns for the lover. I could not find the origin of this work other than an archive assembled by Loughlin.
Categorization
Poem
Condemn not, Madam, as I write in Haste,
My Thoughts confus'd, or any Word misplac'd.
Of cens'ring Tongues I scorn the little Spite,
In wild Disorder, as I Love, I Write.
In Haste I write to ease your tortur'd Mind,
Spite of your Jealousy, I still am kind.
Unspotted as the Sun, my Love shall rise,
And soon dispel the Fears that cloud your Eyes.
Let others for dear Scandal search the Town,
Or with superior Fancy chuse a Gown:
Others their Heads with learned Volumes fill,
Or boast of deeper Science at Quadrille:
In the gay Dance let other Nymphs excel;
F---na's Glory lies in Loving well.
Of Pleasure all the various Modes I know,
Its different Degrees, its Ebb and Flow.
Ladies, unpractis'd in the Art of Love,
A living Aretin in me may prove.
Propitious Venus grant me Power to give
Joy to fair ---, 'tis for her I Live.
Cease then to let your jealous Fancy rove,
Nor give me such a cruel Proof of Love.
Am I in Fault, that Crouds obsequious bend,
And rival Beauties for my Love contend?
That fierce Thalestris has attack'd my Heart?
Or gentle Chloe cast a milder Dart?
To fierce Thalestris I disdain to yield,
And gentle Chloe ne'er shall gain the Field.
In vain she breathes her Passion in my Ear,
For when you speak I nothing else can hear:
In vain with Transport to my Feet she flew,
All Joys are tasteless, but what come thro' you.
Before your fatal Face I chanc'd to see,
No Cynick ever laugh'd at Love like me.
Inconstant as the Wind, free as the Air,
I rang'd from Man to Man, from Fair to Fair.
I rov'd about like the industrious Bee,
First suck'd the Honey, then forsook the Tree.
In Venus' Combats, I have spent the Day,
Swiss--like, I fought on any Side for Pay.
But now I Love, and your bewitching Face
Has well aveng'd the Cause of Human Race.
Do Justice to your self, review your Charms,
Nor fear to see me in another's Arms.
Have you not Beauty equal to your Youth?
Look in your Glass, and then suspect my Truth.
No Passion tramontane in you I've found,
By Love and Gratitude I'm doubly bound.
You first of all the British Fair declar'd,
I sung unrival'd, e'er my Voice you heard.
By Sympathy you felt each Charm, each Grace,
And lov'd my Person, e'er you saw my Face.
Nor was I coy, or difficult to move,
When you reveal'd the Story of your Love.
With such pathetick Mirth you play'd your Part,
You found an easy Conquest of my Heart.
I felt a thrilling Joy, 'till then unknown,
And Lov'd with Ardour equal to your own.
Witness the Transports of that happy Day,
When melting in each other's Arms we lay.
With Velvet Kiss your humid Lips I press'd,
And rode triumphant on your panting Breast.
Thus rode St. George, thus fearless thrust his Dart
Up to the Head in the fell Dragon's Heart.
In Extasy you cry'd, What Joys are these?
Not Durestanti's self so well cou'd please.
This is no sleepy Husband's feeble Mite,
The tasteless Tribute of an ill--spent Night.
Such were our Joys, O cou'd they always last!
But greatest Pleasures are the soonest past.
O did my Power and Will in Concert move!
And were my Strength but equal to my Love!
Th'incredulous Philosopher should see
Perpetual Motion verified in Me.
How to Understand This Poem
Bordoni begins her love letter with a stanza filled with both metaphor and personification, seeping passion into every word and phrase. Describing her love as “unspotted as the sun.” and ending with “Fears that cloud your Eyes,” she shows her mastery of poetry and the art of lesbian love. She dismisses the opinions of others, adding that when they are together they will be their true selves, as seen by, “Of Pleasure all the various Modes I know.” Bordoni proceeds to advise her lover that her heart is pure, and that she is resistant to other womens’ flirting by signaling, “I disdain to yield.” Her indiscretions in the past, “I rang'd from Man to Man, from Fair to Fair,” Bordoni proves how easily her lover had brought her to her knees by stating, “You found an easy Conquest of my Heart.” She details their love too, showcasing explicit words of sensuality. She ends with, “Perpetual Motion verified in Me,” as if her emotions, love, and desires are always fixated on her lover.
