Song by Aphra Behn

Song

Love in Phantastique Triumph sat,
Whilst Bleeding hearts about him flow’d,
For whom fresh pays he did create,
And strange Tyrannick pow’r he shew’d;
From thy bright Eyes he took his fires,
Which round about in sport he hurl’d;
But ’twas from mine he took desires,
Enough t’undoe the Amorous world.

From me he took his sighs and tears,
From thee his pride and cruelty;
From me his languishments and fears,
And ev’ry 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.

Aphra Behn
(1640-1689)
From Abdelazer, or the Moor’s Revenge:
Song

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