ON DESIRE
by: Aphra Behn
- HAT art thou, oh! thou new-found
pain?
- From what infection dost thou spring?
- Tell me -- oh! tell me, thou enchanting thing,
- Thy nature, and thy name;
- Inform me by what subtle art,
- What powerful influence,
- You got such vast dominion in a part
- Of my unheeded, and unguarded, heart,
- That fame and honour cannot drive ye thence.
-
- Oh! mischievous usurper of my peace;
- Oh! soft intruder on my solitude,
- Charming disturber of my ease,
- That hast my nobler fate pursued,
- And all the glories of my life subdued.
-
- Thou haunt'st my inconvenient hours;
- The business of the day, nor silence of the night,
- That should to cares and sleep invite,
- Can bid defiance to thy conquering powers.
-
- Where hast thou been this live-long age
- That from my birth till now,
- Thou never cloudst one thought engage,
- Or charm my soul with the uneasy rage
- That made it all its humble feebles know?
-
- Where wert thou, oh, malicious sprite,
- When shining honour did invite?
- When interest called, then thou wert shy,
- Nor to my aid one kind propension brought,
- Nor wouldst inspire one tender thought,
- When Princes at my feet did lie.
-
- When thou couldst mix ambition with my joy,
- Thou peevish phantom thou wert nice and coy,
- Not beauty could invite thee then
- Nor all the hearts of lavish men!
- Not all the powerful rhetoric of the tongue
- Not sacred wit could charm thee on;
- Not the soft play that lovers make,
- Nor sigh could fan thee to a fire,
- Not pleading tears, nor vows could thee awake,
- Or warm the unformed something -- to desire.
-
- Oft I've conjured thee to appear
- By youth, by love, by all their powers,
- Have searched and sought thee everywhere,
- In silent groves, in lonely bowers:
- On flowery beds where lovers wishing lie,
- In sheltering woods where sighing maids
- To their assigning shepherds hie,
- And hide their bushes in the gloom of shades.
- Yet there, even there, though youth assailed,
- Where beauty prostrate lay and fortune wooed,
- My heart insensible to neither bowed:
- Thy lucky aid was wanting to prevail.
-
- In courts I sought thee then, thy proper sphere
- But thou in crowds were stifled there,
- Interest did all the loving business do,
- Invites the youths and wins the virgins too.
- Or if by chance some heart the empire own
- (Ah power ingrate!) the slave must be undone.
-
- Tell me, thou nimble fire, that dost dilate
- Thy mighty force through every part,
- What god, or human power did thee create
- In me, till now, unfacile heart?
- Art thou some welcome plague sent from above
- In this dear form, this kind disguise?
- Or the false offspring of mistaken love,
- Begot by some soft thought that faintly strove,
- With the bright piercing beauties of Lysander's eyes?
-
- Yes, yes, tormenter, I have found thee now;
- And found to whom thou dost thy being owe,
- 'Tis thou the blushes dost impart,
- For thee this languishment I wear,
- 'Tis thou that tremblest in my heart
- When the dear shepherd does appear,
- I faint, I die with pleasing pain,
- My words intruding sighing break
- When e'er I touch the charming swain
- When e'er I gaze, when e'er I speak.
- Thy conscious fire is mingled with my love,
- As in the sanctified abodes
- Misguided worshippers approve
- The mixing idol with their gods.
- In vain, alas! in vain I strive
- With errors, which my soul do please and vex,
- For superstitions will survive,
- Purer religion to perplex.
-
- Oh! tell me you, philosophers, in love,
- That can its burning feverish fits control,
- By what strange arts you cure the soul,
- And the fierce calenture remove?
-
- Tell me, ye fair ones, that exchange desire,
- How 'tis you hid the kindling fire.
- Oh! would you but confess the truth,
- It is not real virtue makes you nice:
- But when you do resist the pressing youth,
- 'Tis want of dear desire, to thaw the virgin ice.
- And while your young adorers lie
- All languishing and hopeless at your feet,
- Raising new trophies to your chastity,
- Oh tell me, how you do remain discreet?
- How you suppress the rising sighs,
- And the soft yielding soul that wishes in your eyes?
- While to th' admiring crowd you nice are found;
- Some dear, some secret, youth that gives the wound
- Informs you, all your virtue's but a cheat
- And honour but a false disguise,
- Your modesty a necessary bait
- To gain the dull repute of being wise.
-
- Deceive the foolish world -- deceive it on,
- And veil your passions in your pride;
- But now I've found your feebles on my own,
- From me the needful fraud you cannot hide.
- Though 'tis a mighty power must move
- The soul to this degree of love,
- And though with virtue I the world perplex,
- Lysander finds the weakness of my sex,
- So Helen while from Theseus' arms she fled,
- To charming Paris yields her heart and bed.
-
'On Desire' was first published
in Lycidus, or the Lover in Fashion (1688). It was reprinted
in Poems on Affairs of State (1697). |
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POEMS BY APHRA BEHN |
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