Paolo Veronese. Venus and Adonis, c1562.
When Jemmy first began to love,|
He was the gayest swain
That ever yet a flock had drove,
Or danc't upon the plain.
'Twas then that I, weys me poor heart,
My freedom threw away;
And finding sweets in every smart,
I could not say him nay.
And ever when he talked of love,
He would his eyes decline,
And every sigh a heart would move,
Gued faith, and why not mine?
He'd press my hand, and kiss it oft,
In silence spoke his flame.
And whilst he treated me thus soft,
I wisht him more to blame.
Sometimes to feed my flocks with him,
My Jemmy would invite me:
Where he the gayest songs would sing,
On purpose to delight me.
And Jemmy every grace displayed,
Which were enough I trow,
To conquer any princely maid,
So did he me, I vow.
But now for Jemmy must I mourn,
Who to the wars must go;
His sheephook to a sword must turn:
Alack, what shall I do?
His bag-pipe into war-like sounds,
Must now exchanged be:
Instead of bracelets, fearful wounds;
Then what becomes of me?
Selected Writings of the Ingenious Mrs. Aphra Behn. Robert Phelps, ed.
New York: The Grove Press, 1950. 233.
|| to Works of Aphra Behn|
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