THE DISAPPOINTMENT
by Aphra Behn
- NE day the amorous Lysander,
- By an impatient passion swayed,
- Surprised fair Cloris, that loved maid,
- Who could defend herself no longer.
- All things did with his love conspire;
- The gilded planet of the day,
- In his gay chariot drawn by fire,
- Was now descending to the sea,
- And left no light to guide the world,
- But what from Cloris’ brighter eyes was hurled.
- II.
- In a lone thicket made for love,
- Silent as a yielding maid’s consent,
- She with a charming languishment,
- Permits his force, yet gently strove;
- Her hands his bosom softly meet,
- But not to put him back designed,
- Rather to draw him on inclined;
- Whilst he lay trembling at her feet,
- Resistance ’tis in vain to show;
- She wants the power to say — ‘Ah! What d’ye do?’
- III.
- Her bright eyes sweet, and yet severe,
- Where love and shame confusedly strive,
- Fresh vigour to Lysander give;
- And breathing faintly in his ear,
- She cried — ‘Cease, cease — your vain desire,
- Or I’ll call out — what would you do?
- My dearer honour even to you
- I cannot, must not give — retire,
- Or take this life, whose chiefest part
- I gave you with the conquest of my heart.’
- IV.
- But he as much unused to fear,
- As he was capable of love,
- The blessed minutes to improve,
- Kisses her mouth, her neck, her hair;
- Each touch her new desire alarms,
- His burning trembling hand he pressed
- Upon her swelling snowy breast,
- While she lay panting in his arms.
- All her unguarded beauties lie
- The spoils and trophies of the enemy.
- V.
- And now without respect or fear,
- He seeks the object of his vows,
- (His love no modesty allows)
- By swift degrees advancing where
- His daring hand that altar siezed,
- Where gods of love do sacrifice:
- That awful throne, that paradise
- Where rage is calmed, and anger pleased,
- That fountain where delight still flows,
- And gives the universal world repose.
- VI.
- Her balmy lips encountering his,
- Their bodies, as their souls, are joined;
- Where both in transports unconfined
- Extend themselves upon the moss.
- Cloris half dead and breathless lay;
- Her soft eyes cast a humid light,
- Such as divides the day and night;
- Or falling stars, whose fires decay:
- And now no signs of life she shows,
- But what in short-breathed sighs returns and goes.
- VII.
- He saw how at her length she lay;
- He saw her rising bosom bare;
- Her loose thin robes, through which appear
- A shape designed for love and play;
- Abandoned by her pride and shame
- She does her softest joys dispense,
- Offering her virgin innocence
- A victim to love’s sacred flame;
- While the o’er-ravished shepherd lies
- Unable to perform the sacrifice.
- VIII.
- Ready to taste a thousand joys,
- The too transported hapless swain
- Found the vast pleasure turned to pain;
- Pleasure which too much love destroys.
- The willing garments by he laid,
- And Heaven all opened to his view,
- Mad to possess, himself he threw
- On the defenceless lovely maid.
- But oh what envious gods conspire
- To snatch his power, yet leave him the desire!
- IX.
- Nature’s support (without whose aid
- She can no human being give)
- Itself now wants the art to live;
- Faintness its slackened nerves invade;
- In vain th’enraged youth essayed
- To call its fleeting vigour back,
- No motion ’twill from motion take;
- Excess of love his love betrayed.
- In vain he toils, in vain commands;
- The insensible fell weeping in his hand.
- X.
- In this so amorous cruel strife,
- Where love and fate were too severe,
- The poor Lysander in despair
- Renounced his reason with his life.
- Now all the brisk and active fire
- That should the nobler part inflame,
- Served to increase his rage and shame,
- And left no spark of new desire:
- Not all her naked charms could move
- Or calm that rage that had debauched his love.
- XI.
- Cloris returning from the trance
- Which love and soft desire had bred,
- Her timorous hand she gently laid
- (Or guided by design or chance)
- Upon that fabulous Priapas,
- That potent god, as poets feign;
- But never did young shepherdess,
- Gathering of fern upon the plain,
- More nimbly draw her fingers back,
- Finding beneath the verdant leaves, a snake.
- XII.
- Then Cloris her fair hand withdrew,
- Finding that god of her desires
- Disarmed of all his awful fires,
- And cold as flowers bathed in morning dew.
- Who can the nymph’s confusion guess?
- The blood forsook the hinder place,
- And strewed with blushes all her face,
- Which both disdain and shame expressed:
- And from Lysander’s arms she fled,
- Leaving him fainting on the gloomy bed.
- XIII.
- Like lightning through the grove she hies,
- Or Daphne from the Delphic god,
- No print upon the grassy road
- She leaves, t’instruct pursuing eyes.
- The wind that wantoned in her hair,
- And with her ruffled garments played,
- Discovered in the flying maid
- All that the gods e’er made, of fair.
- So Venus, when her love was slain,
- With fear and haste flew o’er the fatal plain.
- XIV.
- The nymph’s resentments none but I
- Can well imagine or condole:
- But none can guess Lysander’s soul,
- But those who swayed his destiny.
- His silent griefs swell up to storms,
- And not one god his fury spares;
- He cursed his birth, his fate, his stars
- But more the shepherdess’s charms,
- Whose soft bewitching influence
- Had damned him to the hell of impotence.