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- POEM: Song by Aphra Behn
- O Love! that stronger art than wine,
- Pleasing delusion, witchery divine,
- Wont to be prized above all wealth,
- Disease that has more joys than health;
- Though we blaspheme thee in our pain,
- And of thy tyranny complain,
- We are all bettered by they reign.
- What reason never can bestow
- We to this useful passion owe;
- Love wakes the dull from sluggish ease,
- And learns a clown the art to please,
- Humbles the vain, kindles the cold,
- Makes misers free, and cowards bold;
- ’Tis he reforms the sot from drink,
- And teaches airy fops to think.
- When full brute appetite is fed,
- And choked the glutton lies and dead,
- Thou new spirits dost dispense
- And ’finest the gross delights of sense:
- Virtue’s unconquerable aid
- That against Nature can persuade,
- And makes a roving mind retire
- Within the bounds of just desire;
- Cheerer of age, youth’s kind unrest,
- And half the heaven of the blest!
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