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That ever smiled and danced and play'd

And now the woods, and now the streams invade,
And where they came all things were gay and glad:
When in the myrtle groves the lovers sat
Opprest with a too fervent heat,

A thousand Cupids fann'd their wings aloft,
And through the boughs the yielding air did waft;
Whose parting leaves discovered all below,

And every god his own soft power admir'd,

And smiled, and frowned, and sometimes bent his bow.

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The swift paced hours of life soon steal away,
Stint not ye Gods our short-liv'd'joy!

The spring decays, but when the winter's gone,
The trees and flowers anew come on;

The sun may set, but when the night is fled,
And gloomy darkness does retire,

He rises from his watʼry bed,

All glorious, gay, all drest in amorous fire! But Silvia, when your beauties fade,

When the fresh roses on your cheek shall die,Like flowers that wither in the shade,—

Eternally they will forgotten lie!

And no kind spring its sweetness will supply
When snow shall on those lovely tresses lie!
When your fair eyes no more shall give us pain,
But shoot their pointless darts in vain,

What will your duller honour signify?

Go boast it then! and see what numerous store
Of lovers will your ruin'd shrine adore!
Then let us, Silvia, yet be wise,

And the gay hasty minutes prize;

Our sun and spring receive but one short light,
Once set, a sleep brings on eternal night.

K

This poem exhibits the talents of Mrs. Behn to advantage; it is one of her best, and written with much care. There are few things in our poetry better than the last stanza; the thought itself has probably occurred to all poets, and may be considered as a poetic commonplace, but it certainly was never expressed in language more elegant, nor in verse more harmonious. Waller's beautiful song, "Go lovely rose," was probably written about the same time, and is one of the most elegant lyric poems in any language. It has been overlooked by late collectors, and we may perhaps be excused for inserting it in this place, by way of comparison, as it is grounded on the same idea with the above stanza.— It needs to be once read only, to be for ever fixed in all poetic memories.

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SONG.

Love armed.

Love in fantastic triumph sat,

Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow'd, For whom fresh pains he did create,

And strange tyrannic power he shew'd.

From thy bright eyes he took his fire,
Which round about in sport he hurl'd;
But 'twas from mine he took desire

Enough to 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.

SONG.

The Invitation.

Damon, I cannot blame your will,
'Twas chance and not design did kill;
For whilst you did prepare your charms,
On purpose Silvia to subdue,
I met the arrows as they flew,
And saved her from their harms.

Alas! she cannot make returns,
Who for a swain already burns,
A shepherd whom she does caress
With all the softest marks of love;

And 'tis in vain thou seek'st to move The cruel shepherdess.

Content thee with this victory,
Think me as fair and young as she,—
I'll make thee garlands all the day,

And in the groves we'll sit and sing; I'll crown thee with the pride of spring When thou art lord of May.

SONG.

The Dream.

The grove was gloomy all around,
Murmuring the stream did pass;
Where fond Astrea laid her down
Upon a bed of grass.

I slept and saw a piteous sight,
Cupid all weeping lay,
Till both his little stars of light
Had wept themselves away.

Methought I ask'd him why he cry'd,
My pity led me on;-

All sighing the sad boy replied,

Alas! I am undone !

As I beneath yon myrtle lay,
Down by Diana's springs,
Amyntas stole my bow away,

And pinion'd both my wings.

Alas! cried I, 'twas then thy darts
Wherewith he wounded me :
Thou mighty deity of hearts!

He stole his power from thee.

Revenge thee, if a god thou be,
Upon the amorous swain :
I'll set thy wings at liberty,
And thou shalt fly again.

And for this service on my part,
All I implore of thee,

Is that thou'lt wound Amyntas' heart,

And make him die for me.

His silken fetters I untied,

And the gay wings display'd,

Which gently fann'd, he mounts, and cry'd
Farewell fond easy maid.

At this I blush'd, and angry grew

I should the god believe;

And waking found my dream too true;

Alas! I was a slave!

SONG.

Ah! what can mean that eager joy
Transports my heart when you appear?
Ah Strephon! you my thoughts employ
In all that's charming, all that's dear!
When you your pleasing stories tell,

A softness does invade each part,
And I with blushes own I feel

Something too tender at my heart.

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