Poems upon several occasions with a voyage to the island of love : also The lover in fashion, being an account from Lydicus to Lysander of his voyage from the island of love / by Mrs. A. Behn ; to which is added a miscellany of new poems and songs, by several hands.

RIVALS.

RIvals 'tis call'd, a Village where The Inhabitants in Fury still appear; Mali cious paleness, or a generous red, O'r every angry face is spread, Their Eyes are either smiling with disdain, Or fiercely glow with raging Fire. Gloomy and sullen with dissembl'd pain, Love in the Heart, Revenge in the desire: Combates, Duels, Challenges, Is the discourse, and all the business there.

Respect of Blood, nor sacred friendship tyes;

Can reconcile the Civil War, Rage, Horror, Death, and wild despair, Are still Rencounter'd, and still practis'd there.

'Twas here the lovely cruel Maid I found, Incompass'd with a thousand Lovers round; At my approach I saw their Blushes rise, And they regarded me with angry Eyes. Aminta too, or else my Fancy 'twas, Receiv'd me with a shy and cold Address, I cou'd not speak—but Sigh'd, retir'd and Bow'd; With pain I heard her Talk and Laugh aloud, And deal her Freedoms to the greedy Crowd. I Curst her Smiles, and envy'd every look, And Swore it was too kind, what e're she spoke; Condemn'd her Air, rail'd on her soft Address, And vow'd her Eyes did her false Heart confess, And vainly wisht their Charming Beauties less. A Secret hatred in my Soul I bear, Against these objects of my new despair;

I waited all the day, and all in vain; Not one lone minute snatcht, to ease my pain; Her Lovers went and came in such a sort, It rather seem'd Loves-Office than his Court, Made for eternal Bus'ness, not his Sport. Love saw my pain, and found my rage grew high, And led me off, to lodge at Jealousie.