APHRA BEHN

APHRA BEHN1640-1689

1640-1689

Love in fantastic triumph satWhilst bleeding hearts around him flow’d,For whom fresh paines he did create,And strange tyrannic power he show’d;From thy bright eyes he took his fire,Which round about in sport he hurl’d;But ’twas from mine he took desire,Enough to undo the amorous world.From me he took his sighs and tears,From thee his pride and cruelty;From me his languishments and fears,And every killing dart from thee.Thus thou and I the god have arm’d,And set him up a deity;But my poor heart alone is harm’d,Whilst thine the victor is, and free.

Love in fantastic triumph satWhilst bleeding hearts around him flow’d,For whom fresh paines he did create,And strange tyrannic power he show’d;

Love in fantastic triumph sat

Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow’d,

For whom fresh paines he did create,

And strange tyrannic power he show’d;

From thy bright eyes he took his fire,Which round about in sport he hurl’d;But ’twas from mine he took desire,Enough to undo the amorous world.

From thy bright eyes he took his fire,

Which round about in sport he hurl’d;

But ’twas from mine he took desire,

Enough to undo the amorous world.

From me he took his sighs and tears,From thee his pride and cruelty;From me his languishments and fears,And every killing dart from thee.

From me he took his sighs and tears,

From thee his pride and cruelty;

From me his languishments and fears,

And every killing dart from thee.

Thus thou and I the god have arm’d,And set him up a deity;But my poor heart alone is harm’d,Whilst thine the victor is, and free.

Thus thou and I the god have arm’d,

And set him up a deity;

But my poor heart alone is harm’d,

Whilst thine the victor is, and free.

A constancy in love I’ll prize,And be to beauty true:And doat on all the lovely eyes,That are but fair and new.On Cloris’ charms to day I’ll feed,To-morrow Daphne move;For bright Lucinda next I’ll bleed,And still be true to love.But glory only and renownMy serious hours shall claim;My nobler minutes those shall crown,My looser hours, my flame.All the fatigues of love I’ll hate,And Phillis’s new charmsThat hopeless fire shall dissipate,My heart for Cloe warms.The easy nymph I once enjoy’dNeglected now shall pass,Possession, that has love destroy’d,Shall make me pitiless.In vain she now attracts and mourns,Her moving power is gone,Too late (when once enjoy’d) she burns,And yielding, is undone.My friend, the little charming boy,Conforms to my desires,And ’tis but to augment my joyHe pains me with his fires;All that’s in happy love I’ll taste,And rifle all his store,And for one joy that will not last,He brings a thousand more.

A constancy in love I’ll prize,

And be to beauty true:

And doat on all the lovely eyes,

That are but fair and new.

On Cloris’ charms to day I’ll feed,

To-morrow Daphne move;

For bright Lucinda next I’ll bleed,

And still be true to love.

But glory only and renownMy serious hours shall claim;My nobler minutes those shall crown,My looser hours, my flame.All the fatigues of love I’ll hate,And Phillis’s new charmsThat hopeless fire shall dissipate,My heart for Cloe warms.

But glory only and renown

My serious hours shall claim;

My nobler minutes those shall crown,

My looser hours, my flame.

All the fatigues of love I’ll hate,

And Phillis’s new charms

That hopeless fire shall dissipate,

My heart for Cloe warms.

The easy nymph I once enjoy’dNeglected now shall pass,Possession, that has love destroy’d,Shall make me pitiless.In vain she now attracts and mourns,Her moving power is gone,Too late (when once enjoy’d) she burns,And yielding, is undone.

The easy nymph I once enjoy’d

Neglected now shall pass,

Possession, that has love destroy’d,

Shall make me pitiless.

In vain she now attracts and mourns,

Her moving power is gone,

Too late (when once enjoy’d) she burns,

And yielding, is undone.

My friend, the little charming boy,Conforms to my desires,And ’tis but to augment my joyHe pains me with his fires;All that’s in happy love I’ll taste,And rifle all his store,And for one joy that will not last,He brings a thousand more.

My friend, the little charming boy,

Conforms to my desires,

And ’tis but to augment my joy

He pains me with his fires;

All that’s in happy love I’ll taste,

And rifle all his store,

And for one joy that will not last,

He brings a thousand more.

Cease, cease, Aminta, to complain,Thy languishments give o’er,Why should’st thou sigh because the swainAnother does adore?Those charms, fond maid, that vanquish’d thee,Have many a conquest won,And sure he could not cruel beAnd leave ’em all undone.The youth a noble temper bears,Soft and compassionate,And thou canst only blame thy stars,That made thee love too late;Yet had their influence all been kindThey had not cross’d my fate,The tenderest hours must have an end,And passion has its date.The softest love grows cold and shy,The face so late ador’dNow unregarded passes by,Or grows at last abhorr’d;All things in Nature fickle prove,See how they glide away;Think so in time thy hopeless loveWill die, as flowers decay.

Cease, cease, Aminta, to complain,

Thy languishments give o’er,

Why should’st thou sigh because the swain

Another does adore?

Those charms, fond maid, that vanquish’d thee,

Have many a conquest won,

And sure he could not cruel be

And leave ’em all undone.

The youth a noble temper bears,Soft and compassionate,And thou canst only blame thy stars,That made thee love too late;Yet had their influence all been kindThey had not cross’d my fate,The tenderest hours must have an end,And passion has its date.

The youth a noble temper bears,

Soft and compassionate,

And thou canst only blame thy stars,

That made thee love too late;

Yet had their influence all been kind

They had not cross’d my fate,

The tenderest hours must have an end,

And passion has its date.

The softest love grows cold and shy,The face so late ador’dNow unregarded passes by,Or grows at last abhorr’d;All things in Nature fickle prove,See how they glide away;Think so in time thy hopeless loveWill die, as flowers decay.

The softest love grows cold and shy,

The face so late ador’d

Now unregarded passes by,

Or grows at last abhorr’d;

All things in Nature fickle prove,

See how they glide away;

Think so in time thy hopeless love

Will die, as flowers decay.

How strongly does my passion flow,Divided equally ’twixt two?Damon had ne’er subdued my heart,Had not Alexis took his part;Nor could Alexis powerful prove,Without my Damon’s aid, to gain my love.When my Alexis present is,Then I for Damon sigh and mourn;But when Alexis I do miss,Damon gains nothing but my scorn.But if it chance they both are by,For both alike I languish, sigh, and die.Cure then, thou mighty wingèd god,This restless fever in my blood;One golden-pointed dart take back:But which, O Cupid, wilt thou take?If Damon’s, all my hopes are crost;Or that of my Alexis, I am lost.

How strongly does my passion flow,

Divided equally ’twixt two?

Damon had ne’er subdued my heart,

Had not Alexis took his part;

Nor could Alexis powerful prove,

Without my Damon’s aid, to gain my love.

When my Alexis present is,Then I for Damon sigh and mourn;But when Alexis I do miss,Damon gains nothing but my scorn.But if it chance they both are by,For both alike I languish, sigh, and die.

When my Alexis present is,

Then I for Damon sigh and mourn;

But when Alexis I do miss,

Damon gains nothing but my scorn.

But if it chance they both are by,

For both alike I languish, sigh, and die.

Cure then, thou mighty wingèd god,This restless fever in my blood;One golden-pointed dart take back:But which, O Cupid, wilt thou take?If Damon’s, all my hopes are crost;Or that of my Alexis, I am lost.

Cure then, thou mighty wingèd god,

This restless fever in my blood;

One golden-pointed dart take back:

But which, O Cupid, wilt thou take?

If Damon’s, all my hopes are crost;

Or that of my Alexis, I am lost.

A thousand martyrs I have made,All sacrific’d to my desire;A thousand beauties have betray’d,That languish in resistless fire.The untam’d heart to hand I brought,And fixed the wild and wandering thought.I never vow’d nor sigh’d in vainBut both, tho’ false, were well receiv’d.The fair are pleas’d to give us pain,And what they wish is soon believ’d.And tho’ I talk’d of wounds and smart,Love’s pleasures only touched my heart.Alone the glory and the spoilI always laughing bore away;The triumphs, without pain or toil,Without the hell, the heav’n of joy.And while I thus at random roveDespis’d the fools that whine for love.

A thousand martyrs I have made,

All sacrific’d to my desire;

A thousand beauties have betray’d,

That languish in resistless fire.

The untam’d heart to hand I brought,

And fixed the wild and wandering thought.

I never vow’d nor sigh’d in vainBut both, tho’ false, were well receiv’d.The fair are pleas’d to give us pain,And what they wish is soon believ’d.And tho’ I talk’d of wounds and smart,Love’s pleasures only touched my heart.

I never vow’d nor sigh’d in vain

But both, tho’ false, were well receiv’d.

The fair are pleas’d to give us pain,

And what they wish is soon believ’d.

And tho’ I talk’d of wounds and smart,

Love’s pleasures only touched my heart.

Alone the glory and the spoilI always laughing bore away;The triumphs, without pain or toil,Without the hell, the heav’n of joy.And while I thus at random roveDespis’d the fools that whine for love.

Alone the glory and the spoil

I always laughing bore away;

The triumphs, without pain or toil,

Without the hell, the heav’n of joy.

And while I thus at random rove

Despis’d the fools that whine for love.

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