Aphra Behn.

1640-1689

423   Song

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 ’twas from mine he took desires
   Enough t’ undo the amorous world.

From me he took his sighs and tears,
   From thee his pride and cruelty;
From me his languishments and fears,
   And every 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!