The Libertine

A THOUSAND martyrs I have made,
   All sacrificed to my desire,
A thousand beauties have betray'd
   That languish in resistless fire:
The untamed heart to hand I brought,
And fix'd the wild and wand'ring thought.

I never vow'd nor sigh'd in vain,
   But both, tho' false, were well received;
The fair are pleased to give us pain,
   And what they wish is soon believed:
And tho' I talk'd of wounds and smart,
Love's pleasures only touch'd my heart.

Alone the glory and the spoil
   I always laughing bore away;
The triumphs without pain or toil,
   Without the hell the heaven of joy;
And while I thus at random rove
Despise the fools that whine for love.

by Aphra Behn

Comments (3)

Loves pleasures only touched my heart Fantastic imagery. Thanks for sharing it here.
.........a wonderful poem with some great lines ★ And tho' I talk'd of wounds and smart, Love's pleasures only touch'd my heart.
............some beautiful lines in this write... ~ And tho' I talk'd of wounds and smart, Love's pleasures only touch'd my heart. ~