Aphra Behn

Aphra Behn

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Aphra Behn (/ˈæfrə bɛn/;[a] bapt. 14 December 1640 – 16 April 1689) was an English playwright, poet, translator and fiction writer from the Restoration era.
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The Libertine

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A
ND martyrs I have made,   All sacrificed to my desire,
A thousand beauties have betray'd   That languish in resistless fire:
The untamed heart to hand I brought,
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To the Fair Clarinda

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Who made love to me,
Imagin'd more than woman
Fair lovely Maid, or if that Title
Too weak, too Feminine for Nobler thee,
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On the Death of E Waller Esq

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How, to thy Sacred Memory, shall I bring (Worthy thy Fame) a grateful Offering
I, who by Toils of Sickness, am become Almost as near as thou art to a Tomb
While every soft, and every tender Strain Is ruffl'd, and ill-natur'd grown with P...
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Song “How strongly does my passion flow”

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OW strongly does my passion flow,
Divided equally ’twixt two
Damon had ne’er subdued my heart,
Had not Alexis took his part;
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Song

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Oh love
that stronger art than Wine,
Pleasing Delusion,
Witchery divine,
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Song from ‘Lycidus’

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A
CY 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;
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The Willing Mistriss

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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:
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A Congratulatory Poem

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While my sad Muse the darkest Covert Sought,
To give a loose to Melancholy Thought;
Opprest, and sighing with the Heavy Weight Of an Unhappy dear Lov'd Monarch's Fate;
A lone retreat, on Thames's Brink she found,
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Love Armd

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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;
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On the Death of the late Earl of Rochester

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Mourn,
Mourn, ye Muses, all your loss deplore,
The Young, the Noble Strephon is no more
Yes, yes, he fled quick as departing Light,
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Song “Cease cease Aminta to complain”

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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,
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The Disappointment

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1
One Day the Amarous Lisander,
By an impatient Passion sway'd,
Surpris'd fair Cloris, that lov'd Maid,
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Song Love

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Oh love
that stronger art than Wine,
Pleasing Delusion,
Witchery divine,
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The Dream

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All trembling in my arms Aminta lay,
Defending of the bliss I strove to take;
Raising my rapture by her kind delay,
Her force so charming was and weak
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Song Love Armed

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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...
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Epitaph on the Tombstone of a Child

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This Little,
Silent,
Gloomy Monument, Contains all that was sweet and innocent ; The softest pratler that e'er found a Tongue, His Voice was Musick and his Words a Song ; Which now each List'ning Angel smiling hears, Such pretty Harmonie...
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