Song
Oh love! that stronger art than Wine,
Pleasing Delusion,
Witchery divine,
Wont to be priz'd above all Wealth,
Disease that has more Joys than Health;
Though we blaspheme thee in our Pain,
And of Tyranny complain,
We are all better'd by thy Reign.
What Reason never can bestow,
We to this useful Passion owe:
Love wakes the dull from sluggish ease,
And learns a Clown the Art to please:
Humbles the Vain, kindles the Cold,
Makes Misers free, and Cowards bold;
And teaches airy Fops to think.
When full brute Appetite is fed,
And choakd the Glutton lies and dead;
Thou new Spirits dost dispense,
And fine'st the gross Delights of Sense.
Virtue's unconquerable
That against Nature can persuade;
And makes a roving Mind
Within the Bounds of just Desire.
Chearer of Age,
Youth's kind Unrest,
And half the Heaven of the blest!
Aphra Behn
Other author posts
The Willing Mistriss
Amyntas led me to a Grove, Where all the Trees did shade us; The Sun it self, though it had Strove, It could not have betray'd us:
Song “Cease cease Aminta to complain”
SE, 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,
Song Love Armed
Love in fantastic triumph sate Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow’d, For whom fresh pains he did create And strange tyrannic power he show’d: From thy bright eyes he took his fires, Which round about in sport he hurl’d; But ’twa...
Love Armd
Love in Fantastique Triumph satt, Whilst bleeding Hearts around him flow'd, For whom Fresh pains he did create, And strange Tryanic power he show'd;
