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From: "AnonEMoose" <anonemoose@usa.net>
Subject: Subject: POEM: "Isle of Love", Aphra Behn, 1684

Here's a vignette from Aphra Behn's "A Voyage to the Isle of Love"
(first published 1684; remember that pronunciation has changed over
the years, which is why some of the rhymes don't work any more):

   All trembling in my arms Aminta lay,
  Defending of the bliss I strove to take;
  Raising my rapture by her kind delay,
  Her force so charming was and weak.
   The soft resistance did betray the grant,
  While I pressed on the heaven of my desires;
  Her rising breasts with nimbler motions pant;
  Her dying eyes assume new fires.
   Now to the height of languishment she grows,
  And still her looks new charms put on; --
  Now the last mystery of Love she knows,
  We sigh, and kiss: I waked, and all was done.

   'Twas but a dream, yet by my heart I knew,
  Which still was panting, part of it was true:
  Oh, how I strove the rest to have believed;
  Ashamed and angry to be undeceived!



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