Aphra Behn

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,

Who made love to me,
Imagin'd more than woman
Fair lovely Maid, or if that Title
Too weak, too Feminine for Nobler thee,

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...

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

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

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;

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:

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,

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;

Mourn,
Mourn, ye Muses, all your loss deplore,
The Young, the Noble Strephon is no more
Yes, yes, he fled quick as departing Light,

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,

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

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

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

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...

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...