English poem
A Thousand Martyrs I Have Made
by Aphra Behn
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 fixt the wild and wandring Thought. I never vow'd nor sigh'd in vain But both, th false, were well receiv'd. The Fair are pleas'd to give us pain, And what they wish is soon believ'd. And th I talked of Wounds and Smart, Loves Pleasures only toucht my Heart. 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 Despise the Fools that whine for Love.
More by Aphra Behn
- _Lead Us Not Into Temptation_
- _Thy Will Be Done_
- A Congratulatory Poem
- A Poem Humbly Dedicated to the Great Patern of Piety and Virtue Catherine Queen Dowager: On the Death of Her Dear Lord and Husband King Charles II
- Epitaph On The Tombstone Of A Child
- Love Arm'd
- On The Death Of E. Waller, Esq.
- On the Death of the late Earl of Rochester