Poem by Aphra Behn

Angellica’s Lament

Had I remained in innocent security,
I should have thought all men were born my slaves,
And worn my power like lightning in my eyes,
To have destroyed at pleasure when offended.
—But when love held the mirror, the undeceiving glass
Reflected all the weakness of my soul, and made me know
My richest treasure being lost, my honour,
All the remaining spoil could not be worth
The conqueror’s care or value.
—Oh how I fell like a long worshipped idol
Discovering all the cheat. 

1. Oh, How the Hand the Lover Ought to Prize
2. Epitaph on the Tombstone of a Child, the Last of Seven that Died Before
3. To Lysander
4. The Disappointment
5. Love Arm'd

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