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 LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CA 
 
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In. meTnoriam Jratris def id.tr ai if simi dclin: Fr 
 
L U C A 8 T A. 
 
 THE POEMS OF RICHARD LOVELACE, ESQ. 
 NOW FIRST EDITED, AND THE TEXT 
 
 CAREFULLY REVISED. 
 WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR, 
 
 AND A FEW NOTES, 
 
 
 
 BY W. CAREW HAZLITT, 
 
 OF THE INNER TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 JOHN RUSSELL SMITH, 
 
 SOHO SQUABE. 
 
 1864. 
 
/.m 
 
 TO 
 
 WILLIAM HAZLITT, ESQ., 
 
 OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, A REGISTRAR OF 
 
 THE COURT OF BANKRUPTCY 
 
 IN LONDON, 
 
 Utttie Folume 
 
 IS INSCBLBED AS A SLIGHT TESTIMONY OP 
 
 THE GHEATEST RESPECT, BY HIS 
 
 AFFECTIONATE SON, 
 
 THE EDITOR. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 is scarcely an un-dramatlc writer 
 of the Seventeenth Century, whose poems 
 exhibit so many and such gross corrup- 
 tions as those of the author of Lucasta. 
 In the present edition, which is the first attempt to 
 present the productions of a celebrated and elegant poet 
 to the admirers of this class of literature in a readable 
 shape, both the text and the pointing have been amended 
 throughout, the original reading being always given in 
 the foot-notes ; but some passages still remain, which 
 I have not succeeded in elucidating to my satisfaction, 
 and one or two which have defied all my attempts at 
 emendation, though, as they stand, they are unques- 
 tionably nonsense. It is proper to mention that several 
 rather bold corrections have been hazarded in the course 
 of the volume; but where this has been done, the 
 deviation from the original has invariably been pointed 
 out in the notes. 
 
 On the title-page of the copy of Lucasta, 1649, pre- 
 served among the King's Pamphlets in the British 
 Museum, the original possessor has, according to his 
 usual practice, marked the date of purchase, viz., June 
 
viii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 21 ; perhaps, and indeed probably, that was also the 
 date of publication. A copy of Lucasta, 1649, occa- 
 sionally appears in catalogues, purporting to have be 
 longed to Anne, Lady Lovelace; but the autograph 
 which it contains was taken from a copy of Massinger's 
 Bondman (edit. 1638, 4to.), which her Ladyship once 
 owned. This copy of Lovelace's Lucasta is bound up 
 with the copy of the Poslhume Poems, once in the pos- 
 session of Benjamin Eudyerd, Esq., grandson and heir 
 of the distinguished Sir Benjamin Eudyerd, as appears 
 also from his autograph on the title. 1 
 
 In the original edition of the two parts of Lucasta, 
 1649-59, the arrangement of the poems appears, like 
 that of the text, to have been left to chance, and the 
 result has been a total absence of method. I have 
 therefore felt it part of my duty to systematise the con- 
 tents of the volume, and, so far as it lay in my power, 
 to place the various pieces of which it consisted in their 
 proper order ; all the odes, sonnets, &c. addressed or 
 referring to the lady who is concealed under the names 
 of Lucasta and Amarantha have now been, for the first 
 time, brought together ; and the copies of commenda- 
 tory and gratulatory verses, with one exception prefixed 
 by Lovelace to various publications by friends during his 
 life-time, either prior to the appearance of the first part 
 of his own poems in 1649, or between that date and the 
 
 1 Mr. B. R. was a somewhat diligent collector of books, both 
 English and foreign. On the fly-leaves of his copy of Rosse's 
 Mystagogus Poeticus, 1648, 8vo., he has written the names of a 
 variety of works, of which he was at the time seemingly in re- 
 cent possession. 
 
INTRODUCTION. ix 
 
 issue of his Eemains ten years later, have been placed 
 by themselves, as an act of justice to the writer, of whose 
 style and genius they are, as is generally the case with 
 all compositions of the kind, by no means favourable 
 specimens. The translations from Catullus, Ausonius, 
 &c. have been left as they stood ; they are, for the 
 most part, destitute of merit ; but as they were inserted 
 by the Poet's brother, when he edited the posthumous 
 volume, I did not think it right to disturb them, and 
 they have been retained in their full integrity. 
 
 Lovelace's Lucasta was included by the late S. "W- 
 Singer, Esq., in his series of " Early English Poets;" 
 but that gentleman, besides striking out certain passages, 
 which he, somewhat unaccountably and inconsistently, 
 regarded as indelicate, omitted a good deal of preliminary 
 matter in the form of commendatory verses which, 
 though possibly of small worth, were necessary to render 
 the book complete ; it is possible, that Mr. Singer made 
 use of a copy of Lucasta which was deficient at the 
 commencement. It may not be generally known that, 
 independently of its imperfections in other respects, Mr. 
 Singer's reprint abounds with the grossest blunders. 
 
 The old orthography has been preserved intact in this 
 edition ; but with respect to the employment of capitals, 
 the entirely arbitrary manner in which they are intro- 
 duced into the book as originally published, has made 
 it necessary to reduce them, as well as the singularly 
 capricious punctuation, to modern rules. At the same 
 time, in those cases where capitals seemed more cha- 
 racteristic or appropriate, they have been retained. 
 
 It is a singular circumstance, that Mr. Singer (in 
 
x INTRODUCTION. 
 
 common with "Wood, Bliss, Ellis, Headley, and all other 
 biographers,) overlooked the misprint of Aramantha for 
 Amarantha, which the old compositor made, with one 
 or two exceptions, wherever the word occurred. In 
 giving a correct representation of the original title -page, 
 I have been obliged to print Aramantha. 
 
 In the hope of discovering the exact date of Love- 
 lace's birth and baptism, I communicated with the Rev. 
 A. J. Pearman, incumbent of Bethersden, near Ashford, 
 and that gentleman obligingly examined the registers 
 for me, but no traces of Lovelace's name are to be 
 found. 
 
 W. C. H. 
 
 Kensington, August 12, 1863. 
 
BIOGKAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 JlTH the exception of Sir Egerton 
 Brydges, who contributed to the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine for 1791-2 a series 
 of articles on the life and writings of 
 the subject of the present memoir, all the biographers 
 of RICHARD LOVELACE have contented themselves with 
 following the account left by Anthony Wood of his 
 short and unhappy career. I do not think that I can do 
 better than commence, at least, by giving word for word 
 the narrative of Wood in his own language, to which I 
 purpose to add such additional particulars in the form 
 of notes or otherwise, as I may be able to supply. But 
 the reader must not expect much that \^oew : for I 
 regret to say that, after the most careful researches, I 
 have not improved, to any large extent, the state of 
 knowledge respecting this elegant poet and unfortunate 
 man. 
 
 " Eichard Lovelace," writes Wood, " the eldest son of 
 
xii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Sir William Lovelace 1 of Woollidge in Kent, knight, was 
 
 1 Pedigree of the family of Richard Lovelace, the poet. 
 Richard Lovelace, of Queenhithe (temp. Hen. VI.). 
 
 
 Lancelot Lovelace. 
 
 i 
 
 Richard Lovelace, 
 d. s. p. 
 
 i ~~i 
 William Lovelace John, (ancestor of the 
 (ob. 1501). Lords Lovelace, of 
 Hurley (co. Berks). 
 
 John 
 
 ~i 
 William Lovelace. 
 
 William Lovelace, Serjeant at Law, ob. 1576. 
 
 Sir William Lovelace, ob. 1629=pElizabeth, daughter of Edward 
 (according to Berry). I Aucher, Esq., of Bishops- 
 
 bourne. 
 
 Sir William Lovelace=pAnne, daughter and heir of Sir 
 William Barnes, of Woolwich. 
 
 i i r 
 
 RICH-= ? AL- Fran- Wil- 
 
 n 1 
 Tho- Dud-=pMary 
 
 Jo-=pRo- 
 
 ARD 
 
 THEA. cis. liam. 
 
 mas. ley 
 
 Love- hanna 
 
 bert 
 
 LOVE- 
 
 
 
 lace, 
 
 
 Csesar 
 
 LACE, 
 
 
 
 (Phis 
 
 
 Esq. 
 
 born 
 
 
 
 cousin) 
 
 
 
 1618 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i ' 
 
 i l r" 
 
 1 
 
 1 I 
 
 Mar-=i=Henry Coke, Esq. 5th 
 
 A daugh- Anne. 
 
 Juli- Jo- 
 
 garet | son of the Chief Jus- 
 
 ter, b. 
 
 ana, hanna. 
 
 . tice, and ancestor of 
 
 1678. 
 
 
 j the Earls of Leicester. 
 
 
 ' 
 
 Richard. Ciriac. .... .... 
 
 The above has been partly derived from a communication to the 
 Gentleman's Magazine for Dec. 1791, by Sir Egerton Brydges, 
 who chiefly compiled it from Hasted, compared with Berry's 
 Kent Genealogies, 474, where there are a few inaccuracies. It is, of 
 course, a mere skeleton-tree, and furnishes no information as to 
 the collateral branches, the connexion between the houses of 
 Stanley and Lovelace, &c. Sir Egerton Brydges' series of articles 
 on Lovelace in the Gentleman's Magazine, with the exception of 
 that from which the foregoing table is taken, does not contain 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. xiii 
 born in that country [in 1618], educated in grammar 
 
 much, if anything, that is new. On the 3rd of May, 1577, Henry 
 Binneman paid " vi d . and a copie " to the Stationers' Company 
 for the right to print " the Briefe Course of the Accidents of the 
 Deathe of Mr. Serjeant Lovelace ; " and on the 30th of August 
 following, Richard Jones obtained a licence to print " A Short 
 Epitaphe of Serjeant Lovelace." This was the same person who 
 is described in the pedigree as dying in 1576. His death hap- 
 pened, no doubt, like that of Sir Robert Bell and others, at the 
 Oxford Summer assizes for 1576. See Stow's Annales, fol. 1 154. 
 
 In 1563, Barnaby Googe the poet dedicated his Eglogs, 
 Epitaphes, and Sonnettes, newly written, to " the Ryght Wor- 
 ehypfull M. Richard Lovelace, Esquier, Reader of Grayes Inne." 
 
 The following is a list of the members of the Lovelace family 
 who belonged to the Honourable Society of Gray's Inn from 1541 
 to 1646: 
 
 Thomas Lovelace, admitted 1541. 
 
 William Lovelace, 
 Richard Lovelace, 
 
 Lancelot Lovelace, 
 William Lovelace, 
 Lancelot Lovelace, 
 
 Francis Lovelace, 
 
 Francis Lovelace 
 (of Canterbury), 
 William Lovelace, 
 
 1548. 
 1557. 
 
 1571. 
 
 1580. 
 1581. 
 
 Called to the bar in 1551. 
 Reader in 1563. Barnaby 
 Googe's friend. 
 
 Recorder of Canterbury, 
 ob. 1640, jet. 78. 
 
 1609. Perhaps the same who 
 was Recorder of Can- 
 terbury in 1638. 
 
 1 640. Probably the poet's youn- 
 ger brother. 
 
 1646. 
 
 For these names and dates I am indebted to the courtesy of the 
 Steward of Gray's Inn. 
 
 Sir William Lovelace, the poet's grandfather who, according 
 to Berry, died in 1629, was a correspondent of Sir Dudley 
 Carleton (see Calendars of State Papers, Domestic Series, 1611-18, 
 pp. 443, 521, 533 ; Ibid. 1618-23, p. 17). It appears from some 
 Latin lines before the first portion of Lucasta, that the poet's 
 father served with distinction in Holland, and probably it was 
 this circumstance which led to Lovelace himself turning his at- 
 
xiv BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 learning in Charterhouse 1 School near London, became 
 a gent, commoner of Gloucester Hall in the beginning of 
 the year 1634, 2 and in that of his age sixteen, being 
 then accounted the most amiable and beautiful person 
 that ever eye beheld ; a person also of innate modesty, 
 virtue, and courtly deportment, which made him then, 
 but especially after, when he retired to the great city, 
 much admired and adored by the female sex. In 
 ] 636, when the king and queen were for some days 
 entertained at Oxon, he was, at the request of a great 
 lady belonging to the queen, made to the Archbishop of 
 Canterbury [Laud], then Chancellor of the University, 
 actually created, among other persons of quality, Mas- 
 ter of Arts, though but of two years' standing ; at which 
 time his conversation being made public, and conse- 
 quently his ingenuity and generous soul discovered, he 
 became as much admired by the male, as before by the 
 female, sex. After he had left the University, he re- 
 tention in a similar direction : for the latter was on service in 
 the Low Countries, perhaps under his father (of whose death we 
 do not know the date, though Hasted intimates that he fell at the 
 Gryll), when his friend Tatham, afterwards the city poet, ad- 
 dressed to him some verses printed in a volume entitled Ostella 
 (printed in 1650). 
 
 1 Mr. A. Keightley, Registrar of the Charterhouse, with his 
 usual kindness, examined for me the books of the institution, in 
 the hope of finding the date of Lovelace's admission, &c., but 
 without success. Mr. Keightley has suggested to me that perhaps 
 Lovelace was not on the foundation, which is of course highly 
 probable, and which, as Mr. Keightley seems to think, may ac- 
 count for the omission of his name from the registers. 
 
 2 " He was matriculated at Gloucester Hall, June 27, 1634, 
 as ' films Gul. Lovelace de Woolwich in Com. Kant. arm. au. 
 nat. 16.' " Dr. BLISS, in a note on this passage in his edition of 
 the Athena. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. xv 
 
 tired in great splendour to the court, and being taken / 
 into the favour of Lord George Goring, afterwards Earl ! 
 of Norwich, was by him adopted a soldier^ and sent in ' 
 the quality of an ensign, in the Scotch expedition, an. 
 1639. Afterwards, in the second expedition, he was 
 commissionated a captain in the same regiment, and in 
 that time wrote a tragedy called The Soldier, but never 
 acted, because the stage was soon after suppressed. , 
 After the pacification of Berwick, he retired to his native 
 country, and took possession [of his estate] at Lovelace 
 Place, in the parish of Bethersden, 1 at Canterbury, 
 
 1 Bethersden is a parish in the Weald of Kent, eastward of 
 Smarden, near Surrendeu. " The manor of Lovelace," says Has- 
 ted (History of Kent, iii. 239), " is situated at a very small dis- 
 tance south-westward from the church [of Bethersden]. It was 
 in early times the property of a family named Grunsted, or 
 Greenstreet, as they were sometimes called ; the last of whom, 
 Henry de Grunsted, a man of eminent repute, as all the records 
 of this county testify, in the reigns of both King Edward II. 
 and III,, passed away this manor to Kinet, in which name it 
 did not remain long; for William Kinet,in the 41st year of King 
 Edward III, conveyed it by sale to John Lovelace, who erected 
 that mansion here, which from hence bore his name in addition, 
 being afterwards styled Bethersden- Lovelace, from which sprang 
 a race of gentlemen, who, in the military line, acquired great re- ] 
 putation and honour, and by their knowledge in the municipal 
 laws, deserved well of the Commonwealth ; from whom descended 
 those of this name seated at Buyford in Sittingborne, and at 
 Kingsdown in this county, the Lords Lovelace of Hurley, and 
 others of the county of Berks." The same writer, in his History 
 of Canterbury, has preserved many memorials of the connexion of 
 the Lovelaces from the earliest times with Canterbury and its 
 neighbourhood. William Lovelace, in the reign of Philip and 
 Mary, died possessed of the mansion belonging to the abbey of 
 St. Lawrence, near Canterbury; after the death of his son 
 
xvi BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Chart, Halden, &c., worth, at least, .500 per annum. 
 About which time he [being then on the commission 
 of the peace] was made choice of byjthe whole body of 
 the county of .Kent, at an assize, to deliver the Kentish 
 petition 1 to the House of Commons, for the restoring 
 
 William, it passed to other hands. In 1621, Lancelot Lovelace, 
 Esq., was Recorder of Canterbury; in 1638, Richard Lovelace, 
 Esq., held that office ; and in the year of the Restoration, Richard 
 Lovelace, the poet's brother, was Recorder. In the Public 
 Library at Plymouth, there is a folio MS. (mentioned in Mr. Halli- 
 well's catalogue, 1853), containing " Original Papers of theMoli- 
 neux and Lovelace Families." I regret that I have not had an 
 opportunity of inspecting it. Mr. Halliwell does not seem to 
 have examined the volume ; at all events, that gentleman does 
 not furnish any particulars as to the nature of the contents, or as 
 to the period to which the papers belong. This information, in 
 the case of a MS. deposited in a provincial library in a remote 
 district, would have been peculiarly valuable. It is possible that 
 the documents refer only to the Lovelaces of Hurley, co. Berks. 
 1 " The Humble Petition of the Gentry, Ministers, and Com- 
 monalty, for the county of Kent, agreed upon at the General 
 Assizes for that county." See Journals of the House of Lords, 
 iv. 675-6-7. The "framers and contrivers" of this petition 
 were Sir Edward Dering, Bart., of Surrenden -Bering; Sir Roger 
 Twysden, the well-known scholar ; Sir George Strode, and Mr. 
 Richard Spencer. On the 21st May, 1641, Dering had unsuc- 
 cessfully attempted to bring in a bill for the abolition of church- 
 government by bishops, archbishops, &c., whereas one of the 
 articles of the petition of 1642 (usually known as De-ring's 
 Petition) was a prayer for the restoration of the Liturgy and 
 the maintenance of the episcopal bench in its integrity. A nu- 
 merously signed petition had also been addressed to both Houses 
 by the county in 1641, in which the strongest reasons were given 
 for the adoption of Bering's proposed act. From 1641 to 1648, 
 indeed, the Houses were overwhelmed by Kentish petitions of 
 various kinds. This portion of Wood's narrative is confirmed 
 by Marvell's lines prefixed to Lucasta, 1649 : 
 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. xvii 
 
 the king to his rights, and for settling the government, 
 ifec. For which piece of service he was committed 
 [April 30, 1642] to the Gatehouse at Westminster, 1 
 
 " And one the Book prohibits, because Kent 
 Their first Petition by the Authour sent." 
 
 " Sir William Boteler, of Kent, returning about the beginning 
 of April 1642, from his attendance (being then Gentleman Pen- 
 tioner) on the king at Yorke, then celebrating St. George's feast, 
 was by the earnest solicitation of the Gentry of Kent ingaged to 
 joyn with them in presenting the most honest and famous Petition 
 of theirs to the House of Commons, delivered by Captain Richard 
 Lovelace, for which service the Captain was committed Prisoner 
 to the Gate House, and Sir William Bolder to the Fleet, from 
 whence, after some weeks close imprisonment, no impeachment in 
 all that time brought in against him [Boteler], many Petitions 
 being delivered and read in the House for his inlargement, he 
 was at last upon bail of .'20,000 \_\ 5,000] remitted to his 
 house in London, to attend de die in diem the pleasure of the 
 House." Mtrcurius Rusticus, 1646 (edit. 1685, pp. 7, 8). The 
 fact was that, although on the 7th of April, 1642, the Kentish 
 petition in favour of the Liturgy, &c. had been ordered by the 
 House of Commons to be burned by the common hangman (Par- 
 liaments and Councils of England, 1839, p. 384), Boteler and 
 Lovelace had the temerity, on the 30th of the same month, to 
 come up to London, and present it again to the House. It was this 
 which occasioned their committal. In the Verney Papers (Camd. 
 Soc. 1845, p. 175) there is the following memorandum: 
 
 " Captaine Lovelace committed to the Gatehouse I 
 
 Sir William Butler committed to the Fleete | 
 
 I petition." 
 
 1 " Gatehouse, a prison in Westminster, near the west end of 
 the Abbey, which leads into Dean's Yard, Tothill Street, and the 
 Almonry " Cunningham's Handbook of London, Past and Pre- 
 sent. But for a more particular account, see Stovv's Survey, ed. 
 1720, ii. lib. 6. 
 
 The Gatehouse for a Prison was ordain'd, 
 
 When in this land the third king Edward reign'd : 
 
 
xviii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 where he made that celebrated song called, Stone 
 Walls do not a Prison make, &c. After three or four 
 months' [six or seven weeks'] imprisonment, he had his 
 liberty upon hail of 40,000 [4000 ?] not to stir out 
 j of the lines of communication without a pass from the 
 speaker. During the time of this confinement to 
 London, he lived beyond the income of his estate, either 
 to keep up the credit and reputation of the king's cause 
 by furnishing men with horses and arms, or by relieving 
 ingenious men in want, whether scholars, musicians, 
 soldiers, &c. Also, by furnishing his two brothers, 
 Colonel Franc. Lovelace, and Captain William Love- 
 lace (afterwards slain at Caermarthen) \ with men and 
 money for the king's cause, and his other brother, called 
 Dudley Posthumus Lovelace, with moneys for his 
 maintenance in Holland, to study tactics and fortification 
 in that school of war. After the rendition of Oxford 
 garrison, in 1646, he formed a regiment for the service 
 of the French king, was colonel of it, and wounded at 
 Dunkirk; 2 and in 1648, returning into England, he, 
 
 Good lodging roomes, and diet it affords, 
 But I had rather lye at home on boords." 
 
 TAYLOR'S Praise and Virtue of a Jayle and Jaylers, 
 (Works, 1630, ii. 130). 
 
 1 By an inadvertence, I have spoken of Thomas, instead of 
 William, Lovelace having perished at Caermarthen, in a note at 
 p. 125. 
 
 2 It appears from the following copy of verses, printed in 
 Tatham's Ostella, 1650, 4to., that Lovelace made a stay in the 
 Netherlands about this time, if indeed he did not serve there 
 with his regiment. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. xix 
 
 with Dudley Posthumus before mentioned, then a cap- 
 tain under him, were both committed prisoners to 
 
 UPON MT NOBLE FRIEND RICHARD LOVELACE, ESQ., HIS 
 BEING IN HOLLAND. AN INVITATION. 
 
 COME, Adonis, come again ; 
 
 What distaste could drive thee hence, 
 Where so much delight did reign, 
 
 Sateing ev'n the soul of sense ? 
 And though thou unkind hast prov'd, 
 Never youth was more belov'd. 
 
 Then, lov'd Adonis, come away, 
 
 For Venus brooks not thy delay. 
 
 Wert thou sated with the spoil 
 
 Of so many virgin hearts, 
 And therefore didst change thy soil, 
 
 To seek fresh in other parts ? > 
 Dangers wait on foreign game ; // 
 We have deer more sound and ta 
 
 Then, lov'd Adonis, come away, 
 
 For Venus brooks not thy delay. 
 
 Phillis, fed with thy delights, 
 
 In thy absence pines away ; 
 And love, too, hath lost his rites, 
 
 Not one lass keeps holiday. 
 They have changed their mirth for cares, 
 And do onely sigh thy airs. 
 
 Then, lov'd Adonis, come away, 
 
 For Venus brooks not thy delay. 
 
 Elpine, in whose sager looks 
 
 Thou wert wont to take delight, 
 Hath forsook his drink and books, 
 
 'Cause he can't enjoy thy sight : 
 He hath laid his learning by, 
 'Cause his wit wants company. 
 
 Then, lov'd Adonis, come away, 
 
 For friendship brooks not thy delay. 
 
xx BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Peter House, 1 in London, where he framed his poems 
 for the press, entitled, Lucasta : Epochs, Odes, Sonnets, 
 
 All the swains that once did use 
 
 To converse with Love and thee, 
 In the language of thy Muse, 
 
 Have forgot Love's deity : 
 They deny to write a line, 
 And do only." talk of thine. 
 
 Then, lov'd Adonis, come away, 
 
 For friendship brooks not thy delay. 
 
 By thy sweet Althea's voice, 
 
 We conjure thee to return ; 
 Or we'll rob thee of that choice, 
 
 In whose flames each heart would burn : 
 That inspir'd by her and sack, 
 Such company we will not lack : 
 
 That poets in the age to come, 
 
 Shall write of our Elisium. 
 
 1 Peter, or rather Petre House, in Aldersgate Street, belonged 
 atone time to the antient family by whose name it was known. 
 The third Lord Petre, dying in 1 638, left it, with other possessions 
 in and about the city of London, to his son William. (Col- 
 lins's Peerage, by Brydges, vii. 10, 11.) When Lovelace was 
 committed to Peter House, and probably long before (Mer- 
 curius Rusticus, ed. 1685, pp. 76-79), this mansion was used as 
 a house of detention for political prisoners ; but in Ward's Diary 
 (ed. Severn, p. 167), there is the following entry (like almost all 
 Ward's entries, unluckily without date) : " My Lord Peters is 
 an Essex man ; hee hath a house in Aldersgate Street, wherein 
 lives the Marquis of Dorchester :" implying that at that period 
 (perhaps about 1660), the premises still belonged to the Petre 
 family, though temporarily let to Lord Dorchester. Another 
 celebrated house in the same street was London House, which 
 continued for some time to be the town residence of the Bishops 
 of London. When it had ceased to be an episcopal abode, it was 
 adapted to the purposes of an ordinary dwelling, and, among the 
 occupants, at a somewhat later period, was Tom Rawlinson, th 
 great book- collector. See Stow, ed. 1720, ii. lib. iii. p. 121. 
 
 ' 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. xxi 
 
 Songs, &c., Lond. 1649, Oct. The reason why he 
 gave that title was because, some time hefore, he had 
 made his amours to a gentlewoman of great beauty and 
 fortune, named Lucy Sacheverell, whom he usually called 
 Lux casta ; but she, upon a stray report that Lovelace 
 was dead of his wound received at Dunkirk, soon after 
 married. 1 He also wrote Aramantha [Amarantha], 
 a Pastoral, printed with Lucasta.- Afterwards a 
 musical composition of two parts was set to part of it 
 by Henry Lawes, 3 sometimes servant to king Charles I., 
 in his public and private music. 
 
 1 How different was the conduct, under similar circumstances, 
 of the lady whom Charles Gerbier commemorates in his Elogium 
 Heroinum, 1651, p. 127. "Democion, the Athenian virgin," he 
 tells us, " hearing that Leosthenes, to whom she was contracted, 
 was slain in the wars, she killed herself; but before her death 
 she thus reasoned with herself: ' Although my body is uutoucht, 
 yet should I fall into the imbraces of another, I should but deceive 
 the second, since I am still married to the former in my heart.' " 
 
 2 Wood's story about Lucasta having been a Lucy Sacheverell, 
 " a lady of great beauty and fortune," may reasonably be doubted. 
 Lucasta, whoever she was, seems to have belonged to Kent ; the 
 Sacheverells were not a Kentish family. Besides, the corruption 
 of Lucy Sacheverell into Lucasta is not very obvious, and rather 
 violent ; and the probability is that the author of the Athena was 
 misled by his informant on this occasion. The plate etched by 
 Lely and engraved by Faithorne, which is found in the second 
 part of Lucasta, 1659, can scarcely be regarded as a portrait ; it 
 was, in all likelihood, a mere fancy sketch, and we are not perhaps 
 far from the truth in our surmise that the artist was nearly, if 
 not quite, as much in the dark as to who Lucasta was, as we are 
 ourselves at the present day. 
 
 3 This is a mistake on the part of Wood, which (with many 
 others) ought to be corrected in a new edition of the Athena. 
 Lawes did not set to music Amarantha, a Pastoral, nor any por- 
 tion of it ; but he harmonized two stanzas of a little poem to 
 
xxii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 11 After the murther of king Charles I. Lovelace was 
 set at liberty, and, having by that time consumed all 
 his estate, 1 grew very melancholy (which brought him 
 at length into a consumption), became very poor in body 
 and purse, was the object of charity, went in ragged 
 cloaths (whereas when he was in his glory he wore cloth of 
 gold and silver), and mostly lodged in obscure and dirty 
 places, more befitting the worst of beggars and poorest 
 of servants, <fcc. After his death his brother Dudley, 
 before mentioned, made a collection of his poetical 
 papers, fitted them for the press, and entitled them 
 iMcasta: Posfhume Poems, Lond. 1659, 2 Oct., the second 
 part, with his picture before them. 3 These are all the 
 things that he hath extant ; those that were never pub- 
 lished were his tragedy, called The Soldier or Soldiers, 
 
 be found at p. 29 of the present volume, and called " To Ama- 
 rantha; that she would dishevel her Hair." 
 
 1 Hasted states that soon after the death of Charles I. the 
 manor of Lovelace-Bethersden passed by purchase to Richard 
 Hulse, Esq. 
 
 2 On the title-page of this portion ofLucasta, as well as on that 
 which had appeared in 1649, the author is expressly styled, 
 Richard Lovelace, Esq.: yet in Berry's Kent Genealogies, p. 474, 
 he is, curiously enough, called Sir Richard Lovelace, Knt. It is 
 scarcely necessary to observe that the error is on Berry's side. 
 
 3 The most pleasing likeness of Lovelace, the only one, indeed, 
 which conveys any just idea to us of the " handsomest man of 
 his time," is the picture at Dulwich, which has been twice copied, 
 in both instances with very indifferent success. One of these 
 copies was made for Harding's Biographical Mirror. Bromley 
 (Dictionary of Engraved British Portraits, 1793, p. 101) cor- 
 rectly names F[rancis] Lovelace, the writer's brother, as the 
 designer of the portrait before the Posthume Poems, 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. xxiii 
 
 before mentioned ; and his comedy, called Tlie Scholar, 1 
 which he composed at sixteen years of age, when he 
 came first to Gloucester hall, acted with applause after- 
 wards in Salisbury Court. He died in a very mean 
 lodging inGunpowder Alley, 2 near Shoe Lane, 3 and was 
 
 1 Winstanley, perhaps, intended some allusion to these two 
 lost dramas from the pen of Lovelace, when he thus characterizes 
 him in his Lives of the Poets, 1687, p. 170: " 1 can compare no 
 man," he says, " so like this Colonel Lovelace as Sir Philip Sidney, 
 of which latter it is said by one in an epitaph made of him : 
 
 ' Nor is it fit that more I should acquaint, 
 
 Lest men adore in one 
 A Scholar, Souldier, Lover, and a Saint.' " 
 
 As to the comparison, Winstanley must be understood to signify 
 a resemblance between Lovelace and Sidney as men, rather 
 than as writers. Winstanley's extract is from Wits' Recreations, 
 but the text, as he gives it, varies from that printed by the 
 editor of the reprint of that work in 1817. 
 
 2 Gunpowder Alley still exists, but it is not the Gunpowder 
 Alley which Lovelace knew, having been rebuilt more than once 
 since 1 658. It is now a tolerably wide and airy court, without any 
 conspicuous appearance of squalor. There is no tradition, I am 
 sorry to say, respecting Lovelace ; all such recollections have long 
 been swept away. When one of the old inhabitants told me (and 
 there are one or two persons who have lived here all their life) 
 that a great poet once resided thereabout, I naturally became 
 eager to catch the name ; but it turned out to be Dr. Johnson, not 
 Lovelace, the latter of whom might have been contemporary with 
 Homer for aught they knew to the contrary in Gunpowder Alley. 
 It appears from Decker and Webster's play of Westward Hoe, 
 1607 (Webster's Works, ed. Hazlitt, i, 67), that there was 
 another Gunpowder Alley, near Crutched Friars. 
 
 3 Hone (Every-Day Booh, ii. 561, edit. 1827) states, under 
 date of April 28, that " during this month in 1658 the accom- 
 plished Colonel Richard Lovelace died in the Gatehouse at West- 
 minster, whither he had been committed," &c. No authority, 
 
xxiv BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 buried at the west-end of the church of S. Bride, alias 
 Bridget, in London, near to the body of his kinsman Will. 
 Lovelace, of Gray's Inn, Esq., in sixteen hundred fifty 
 and eight, 1 having before been accounted by all those 
 that well knew him to have been a person well versed in 
 the Greek 2 andJLatialpoets, in nausic, whether practical 
 or theoretical, instrumental or vocal, and in otherjhings " 
 Befitting, a .gentleman . Some of the said persons have 
 also added, in my hearing, that his common discourse 
 was not only significant and witty, but incomparably 
 
 however, is given for an assertion so wholly at variance with the 
 received view on the subject, and I am afraid that Hone has here 
 fallen into a mistake. 
 
 1 Aubrey, in what are called his Lives of Eminent Men, but 
 which are, in fact, merely rough biographical memoranda, states 
 under the head of LOVELACE : " Obiit in a cellar in Long acre, a 
 little before the restauration of his Ma tie . Mr. Edm. Wyld, &c. 
 
 had made collections for him, and given him money Geo. 
 
 Petty, haberdasher, in Fleet street, carried xx s . to him every 
 Monday morning from S r . . . . Many and Charles Cotton, Esq. 
 for .... moneths, but was never repayd" Aubrey was certainly a 
 contemporary of Lovelace, and Wood seems to have been indebted 
 to him for a good deal of information ; but all who are acquainted 
 with Aubrey are probably aware that he took, in many instances, 
 very little trouble to examine for himself, but accepted state- 
 ments on hearsay. Wood does not, in the case of Lovelace, 
 adopt Aubrey's account, and it is to be observed that, if the poet 
 died as poor as he is represented by both writers to have died, 
 he would have been buried by the parish, and, dying in Long 
 Acre, the parochial authorities would not have carried him to 
 Fleet Street for sepulture. 
 
 2 See p. 149, note 3. His acquaintance with Hellenic litera- 
 ture possibly extended very little beyond the pages of the An- 
 ihologia. 
 
 3 His favourites appear to have been Ausonius and Catullus. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. xxv 
 
 graceful, which drew respect from all men and women. 
 Many other things I could now say of him, relating 
 either to his most generous mind in his prosperity, or 
 dejected estate in his worst state of poverty, but for 
 brevity's sake I shall now pass them by. At the end 
 of his Posthume Poems are several elegies written on 
 him by eminent poets of that time, wherein you may 
 see his just character." 
 
 Such is Wood's account ; it is to be regretted that that 
 writer did not supply the additional information, which 
 he tantalizes us by saying that he possessed, and could 
 have published, had he not been afraid of being tedious. 
 His love of brevity is, in this case, most provoking. 
 
 As might be expected, the Journals of Parliament 
 cast additional light on the personal connexion of Love- 
 lace with the Kentish Petition of 1642, which was for 
 the general redress of existing grievances, not, as the 
 editor of the Verney Papers seems to have considered, 
 merely for the adjustment of certain points relative to 
 the Militia. Parliamentary literature has not a very 
 strong fascination for the editors of old authors, and 
 the biographers of Lovelace have uniformly overlooked 
 the mine of information which lies in the Lords 9 and 
 Commons 9 Journals. The subject was apparently in- 
 troduced, for the first time, into Parliament on the 
 28th March, 1642, when a conference of both Houses 
 took place, respecting " a petition from Kent, which, 
 praying for a jRestoration of the Eishops T Liturgy and 
 Comnion^ Prayer, and other constitutional measures, 
 was voted seditious and against privilege and the peace 
 of the kingdom ; " on the same occasion, Lord Bristol 
 
xxvi BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 and Mr. Justice Mallet were committed to the Tower 
 for having in their possession a copy of the document. 
 On the 7th April it was ordered by both Houses, that 
 the Kentish Petition should be burned by the hands of 
 the common hangman. 
 
 On the 28th April, the Commons acquainted the 
 Upper House, by Mr. Oliver Cromwell, " that a great 
 meeting was to be held next day on Blackheath, to back 
 the rejected Kentish Petition." 1 
 
 Two days later, a strange scene occurred at West- 
 minster. Let the Commons' Journals tell the story in 
 their own language : 
 
 " 30 April, 1642. The House being informed that 
 divers gentlemen of the county of Kent were at the 
 door, that desired to present a Petition to the House ; 
 
 " They were called in, presented their Petition, and 
 withdrew. 
 
 " And their Petition was read, and appeared to be the 
 same that was formerly burnt, by order of both Houses, 
 by the hands of the common hangman. Captain Leigh 
 reports that, being at the Quarter Sessions held at 
 Maidstone, he observed certain passages which he 
 delivered in writing. 
 
 " Captain LOVELACE, who presented the Petition, 
 was called in: and Mr. Speaker was commanded to 
 ask him, from whose hand he had this Petition, and 
 who gave him warrant to present it. 
 
 1 On the 5th May, 1642, a counter-petition was presented by 
 some Kentish gentlemen to the House of Commons, disclaiming 
 and condemning the former one. Journals of the H. of C. ii. 
 558. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. xxvii 
 
 " < Mr. Geo. Chute delivered him [he replied] the 
 Petition the next day after the Assizes.' 
 
 " < The gentlemen [he continued], that were assem- 
 bled at BlacTcheaih, commanded him to deliver it.' 
 
 " [The Speaker then inquired] whether he knew 
 that the like was burnt by order of this House, and 
 that some were here questioned for the business. 
 
 " ' He understood a general rumour, that some gen- 
 tlemen were questioned. 
 
 " ' He had heard a fortnight since, that the like 
 Petition was burnt by the hand of the common hang- 
 man. 
 
 " ' He knew nothing of the bundle of printed peti- 
 tions.' 
 
 " He likewise said, ' that there was a petition at 
 the Quarter Sessions, disavowed by all the Justices 
 there, which he tore.' 
 
 u Sir William Boteler was likewise called in, [and] 
 asked when he was at Yorke. 
 
 " [He] answered, * On Wednesday last was seven- 
 light, he came from Yorke, and came to his house in 
 London. 
 
 " * He heard of a petition that was never delivered. 
 
 " ' He never heard of any censure of the Parliament. 
 
 " ' He heard that a paper was burnt for being 
 rregularly burnt [ ? presented]. 
 
 " ' He had heard that the Petition, that went under 
 he name of the Kentish Petition, was burnt by the 
 ands of the common hangman. 
 
 " ' He never heard of any order of either, [or] of 
 oth, the Houses concerning [the Petition], 
 
xxviii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 " ' He was at Hull on Thursday or Friday was a 
 sevennight : as he came from Yorke, he took Hull in 
 the way. He had heard, that Sir Koger Twisden was 
 questioned for the like Petition. 
 
 " ' He was yesterday at BlaMeath. 9 
 
 " Eesolved, upon the question, that Captain Love- 
 lace shall be presently committed prisoner to the Gate- 
 house. 
 
 " Eesolved, upon the question, that Sir William 
 Boteler shall he presently committed prisoner to the 
 Fleet. 
 
 " Ordered, that the sergeant shall apprehend them, 
 and carry them in safe custody, and deliver them as 
 prisoners to the several prisons aforesaid." 
 
 On the 4th May, 1642, the House of Commons 
 ordered Mr. Whittlock and others to prepare a charge 
 against Mr. Lovelace and Sir William Boteler with 
 all expedition; but nothing further is heard of the 
 matter till the 17th June, when Lovelace 1 and Boteler 
 petitioned the House separately for their release from; 
 custody. Hereupon Sir William was discharged on 
 finding personal bail to the extent of .10,000, with a; 
 surety for <5000 ; and in the case of his companion 
 in misfortune it was ordered, on the question, that " he! 
 be forthwith bailed upon GOOD security." This " good 
 security," surely, did not reach the sum mentioned by 
 Wood, namely, .40,000; but it is likely that the 
 
 1 " The humble petition of Richard Lovelace, Esquire, a pri- 
 soner in the Gate-house, by a former order of this House." 
 Journals, ii. 629. 
 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. xxix 
 
 author of the Aihence is only wrong by a cypher, and 
 that the amount fixed was 4000, as it has been already 
 suggested. Thus Lovelace's confinement did not exceed 
 seven weeks in duration, and the probability, is that the 
 sole inconvenience, which he subsequently experienced, 
 was the loss of the bail. 
 
 The description left by Wood and Aubrey of the 
 end of Lovelace can only be reconciled with the fact, that 
 his daughter and heiress conveyed Kingsdown, Hever, 1 
 and a moiety of Chipsted, to the Cokes by marriage 
 with Mr. Henry Coke, by presuming that those manors 
 were entailed ; while Lovelace Place, as well perhaps 
 as Bayford and Goodneston, not being similarly secured, 
 were sold to defray the owner's incumbrances. At 
 any rate it is not, upon the whole, very probable that 
 he died in a hovel, in a state of absolute poverty ; 2 
 that he received a pound a week (equal to about <4 
 of our money) from two friends, Cotton and another, 
 Aubrey himself admits ; and we may rest satisfied that, 
 however painful the contrast may have been between 
 the opening and close of that career, "the TIeplorable 
 account given in the Athence, and in the so-called 
 Lives of Eminent Men, is much exaggerated and over- 
 drawn. 
 
 It has not hitherto been remarked, that among the 
 
 1 This property, which was of considerable extent and value, 
 was purchased of the Cheney family, toward the latter part of 
 the reign of Henry VI, by Richard Lovelace, of Queenhithe. 
 
 2 I do not think that there is any proof, that Gunpowder- 
 alley was, at the time when Lovelace resided there, a particularly 
 poor or mean locality. 
 
xxx BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Kentish gentry who, from time to time, elected to change 
 the nature of their tenure from gavelkind to primo- 
 geniture, were the Lovelaces themselves, in the person 
 of Thomas Lovelace, 1 who, hy Act of Parliament 2 
 and 3 Edw. VI. obtained, concurrently with several 
 other families, the power of conversion. This Thomas 
 Lovelace was not improbably the same, who was admitted 
 a student of Gray's Inn in 1541 ; and that he was of 
 the Kentish Lovelaces there is not much reason to 
 doubt ; although, at the same time, I am unable to fix 
 the precise degree of consanguinity between him and 
 Serjeant William Lovelace of Gray's Inn, who died in 
 3576, and who was great-grandfather to the author 
 of Lucasta. The circumstance that the real property 
 of Thomas Lovelace aforesaid, situated in Kent, was 
 released by Act of Parliament, 2 and 3 Edw. VI. from 
 the operations of gavelkind tenure (assuming, as is 
 most likely to have been the case, that he was of the 
 same stock as the poet, though not an immediate an- 
 cestor,) seems to explain the following allusion by Dud- 
 ley Lovelace in the verses prefixed by him to Lucasta, 
 1649 : 
 
 " Those by the landed have been writ, 
 Mine's but a younger-brother wit." 
 
 As well as the subjoined lines by Lovelace in the poem 
 entitled, " To Lucasta, from Prison," (see p. 44 of 
 present edition) : 
 
 " Next would I court my Liberty, 
 And then my birthright, Property." 
 
 1 See Lambarde (Perambulation of Kent, 1570, ed. 1826, p. 
 533). 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. xxxi 
 
 There is evidence to prove that Lovelace was on in- 
 timate terms with some of the wits of his time, and that 
 he had friendly relations with many of them such as 
 Hall, Kawlins, Lenton, and particularly the Cottons. 
 John Tatham, the City Poet, and author of The Fancies 
 Theater, 1640, knew him well, and addressed to him 
 some stanzas, not devoid of merit, (Turing his stay 
 abroad. In 1643, Henry Glapthorne, a celebrated 
 dramatist and poet of the same age, dedicated to Love- 
 lace his poem of Whitehall, printed in that year in a 
 ijuarto pamphlet, with elegies on the Earls of Bedford 
 md Manchester. 1 The pages ofLucasta bear testimony 
 X) the acquaintance of the author with Anthony Hodges, 
 )f New College, Oxford, translator of Clitophon and 
 
 1 As so little is known of the personal history of Lovelace, 
 ,he reader may not be displeased to see this Dedication, and it is 
 herefore subjoined : 
 
 To MY NOBLE FRIEND AND GOSSIP, CAPTAIN RICHARD 
 
 LOVELACE. 
 
 SIR, 
 1 1 HAVE so long beene in your debt that I am almost desperate 
 
 my selfe of making you paiment, till this fancy by ravishing 
 rom you a new curtesie in its patronage, promised me it would 
 atisfie part of my former engagements to you. Wonder not to 
 ee it invade you thus on the sudden ; gratitude isaeriall, and, 
 ike that element, nimble in its motion and" performance fthough I 
 rould not have this of mine of a French disposition, to charge 
 iotly and retreat unfortunately : there may appeare something 
 Q this that may maiiitaine the field courageously against Envy, 
 lay come off with honour ; if you, Sir, please to rest satisfied 
 hat it marches under your ensignes, which are the desires of 
 
 " Your true honourer, 
 
 " HEN. GLAPTHORNE." 
 
xxxii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Leucippe from the Greek of Achilles Tatius (or rather 
 probably from a Latin version of the original), and with 
 other 1 members of the University. 2 
 
 Although it is stated by Wood that Lucasta was 
 prepared for the press by Lovelace himself, on his re- 
 turn from the Continent in 1648, it is impossible to be- 
 lieve that any care was bestowed on the correction of the 
 text, or on the arrangement of the various pieces which 
 compose the volume : nor did his brother Dudley Pos- 
 
 1 It has never, so far as I am aware, been suggested that the 
 friend to whom Sir John Suckling addressed his capital ballad : 
 
 "I tell thee, Dick, where I have been," 
 
 may have been Lovelace. It was a very usual practice (thenj 
 even more so than now) among familiar acquaintances to use the 
 abbreviated Christian name in addressing each other ; thus Suck-; 
 ling was Jack; Dayenant, Will; Carew, Tom, &c. ; in the pre-j 
 ceding generation Marlowe had been Kit ; Jonson, Ben; Greene, 
 jRo&m, and so forth ; and although there is no positive proof thati 
 i Lovelace and.Suckling were intimate, it is extremely probable that) 
 i such was the case, more especially as they were not only brother 
 poets, but both country gentlemen belonging to neighbouring 
 counties. Suckling had, besides, some taste and aptitude for 
 military affairs, and could discourse about strategics in a cityi 
 tavern over a bowl of canary with the author of Lucasta., not- 
 withstanding that he was a little troubled by nervousness (ac- 
 cording to report), when the enemy was too near. 
 
 2 From Andrew Mar veil's lines prefixed to Lucasta, 1649, it 
 seems that Lovelace and himself were on tolerably good terms,< 
 an'd that when the former presented the Kentish petition, and 
 was imprisoned for so doing, his friends, who exerted themselves 
 to procure his release, suspected Marvell of a share in his dis- 
 grace, which Marvell, according to his own account, earnestly 
 disclaimed. See the lines commencing : 
 
 " But when the beauteous ladies came to know," &c. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. xxxiii 
 
 thumus, who edited the second part of the book in 
 1659, perform his task in any degree better. In both 
 instances, the printer seems to have been suffered to do 
 the work in his own way, and very infamously he has 
 done it. To supply all the short-comings of the author 
 and his literary executor at this distance of time, is, un- | 
 fortunately, out of the power of any editor ; but in the 
 present republication I have taken the liberty of re- 
 arranging the poems, to a certain extent in the order in 
 which it may be conjectured that they were written ; and 
 where Lovelace contributed commendatory verses to 
 other works, either before or after the appearance of the 
 first portion of Lucasta, the two texts have been 
 collated, and improved readings been occasionally ob- 
 tained. 
 
 The few poems, on which the fame of Lovelace may 
 be said to rest, are emanations not^only of the stirring 
 ixed, but of the peculiar circum- 
 h~e~was thrown at different epochs of ; 
 
 his life. Lovelace had not the melodious and exquisite 
 taste of Herrick, the wit of Suckling, or the power of 
 Randolph (so often second only to his master Jonson). 
 Mr. Singer has praised the exuberantfancy of Lovelace; 
 but, in my thinking, Lovelace was inferior in fancy, as well 
 as in grace, both to Carew and the author of Hesperides. 
 Yet Lovelace has left behind him one r two things, 
 which I doubt if any of those writers could have pro- 
 duced, and which our greatest poets would not have been 
 ashamed to own. "Winstanley was so, far right in in- 
 stituting a comparison b^wejjnjlfls^la^^ 
 that it is hard to name any one in the entire circle of 
 c 
 
xxxiv BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 early English literature except Sydney andWither, who 
 could have attempted, with any chance of success, the 
 < Song to Althea from Prison; and how differently Sydney 
 at least would have handled it ! We know what Herrick 
 would have made of it; it would have furnished the 
 theme for one more invocation to JULIA. From Suck- 
 ling we should have had a bantering playfulness, or a 
 fescennine gaiety, equally unsuited to the subject. 
 Waller had once an opportunity of realizing the position, 
 which has been described by his contemporary in im- 
 mortal stanzas ; but Waller, when he was under con- 
 finement, was thinking too much of his neck to write 
 verses with much felicity, and preferred waiting, till he 
 got back to Beacpnsfield (when his inspiration had I 
 evaporated), to pour out his feelings to Lady Dorothy or 
 Lady Sophia. Wither^son^," Shall I wasting inJDes- 
 pair," is certainly superior to the Song to Atihear. Wither j 
 
 'was frequently equal to Lovelace in poetical imagery and 
 
 sentiment, and he far excelled him in versification. 
 
 The versification of Lovelace is indeed more rugged and 
 
 i unmusical than that of any other writer of the period, 
 
 and this blemish is so conspicuous throughout Lucasta, and 
 
 is noticeable in so many cases, where it might have been 
 
 avoided with very little trouble, that we are naturally led 
 
 to the inference that Lovelace, in writing, accepted from 
 
 indolence or haste, the first word which happened to occur 
 
 | to his mind. Daniel, Drayton, and others were, it is 
 
 well known, indefatigable revisers of their poems ; they 
 
 " added and altered many times," mostly for the better, 
 
 occasionally for the worse. We can scarcely picture to 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. xxxv 
 
 ourselves Lovelace blotting a line, though it would have 
 been well for his reputation, if he had blotted many. 
 
 In the poem of the Loose Saraband (p. 34) there 
 is some resemblance to a piece translated from Me- 
 leager in Elton's Specimens of Classic Poets, i. 411, 
 and entitled by Elton " Playing at Hearts." 
 
 " Love acts the tennis-player's part, 
 And throws to thee my panting heart ; 
 Heliodora ! ere it fall, 
 Let desire catch swift the ball : 
 Let her in the ball-court move, 
 Follow in the game with love. 
 If thou throw me back again, 
 I shall of foul play complain." 
 
 And an address to the Cicada by the same writer, 
 (Ibid. i. 415) opens with these lines : 
 
 " Oh, shrill-voiced insect that, with dew-drops sweet 
 Inebriate, dost in desert woodlands sing." 
 
 In the poem called " The Grasshopper " (p. 94), the 
 author speaks of the insect as 
 
 " Drunk ev'ry night with a delicious tear, 
 Dropped thee from heaven." 
 
 The similarity, in each case, I believe to have been en- 
 tirely accidental : nor am I disposed to think that Love- 
 lace was under any considerable or direct obligations to 
 the classics. I have taken occasion to remark that Love- 
 lace seems to have helped to furnish a model to Cleveland, 
 who carried to an extraordinary length that fondness for 
 words and figures derived from the alchymist's vocabu- 
 lary ; but as regards the author oiLucasta himself, it may 
 
xxxvi BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 be asserted that there are few writers whose productions 
 exhibit less of book-lore than his, and even in those 
 places, where he has employecfphrases or images similar 
 to some found in Peele, Middleton, Herrick, and others, 
 there is great room to question, whether the circum- 
 stance can be treated as amounting to more than a 
 curious coincidence. 
 
 The Master of Dulwich College has obligingly in- 
 formed me, that the picture ofAlthea, as well as that of 
 Lovelace himself, bequeathed by Cartwright the actor 
 to Dulwich College in 1687, bears no clue to date of 
 composition, or to the artist's name, and that it does 
 not assist in the identification of the lady. This is the 
 more vexatious, inasmuch as it seems probable that Al- 
 thea, whoever she was, became the poet's wife, after Lu- 
 casta's marriage to another. The Chloes, &c. mentioned 
 in the following pages were merely more or less inti- 
 mate acquaintances of Lovelace, like the Electro, , 
 Perilla, Corinna, &c. of Herrick. But at the same 
 time an obscurity has hitherto hung over some of the 
 persons mentioned under fictitious names in the poems 
 of Lovelace, which a little research and trouble would 
 have easily removed. For instance, no one who reads 
 "Amarantha, a Pastoral," doubts that Lucasta and 
 AmarantJia are one and the same person. Alexis is 
 Lovelace himself. Ellinda is a female friend of the 
 poet, who occasionally stayed at her house, and on one 
 occasion (p. 79) had a serious illness there. Ellinda 
 marries Amyntor, under which disguise, I suspect, lurks 
 the well known Ma3cenas of his time, Endymion Porter. 
 If Porter be Amyntor, of course Ellinda must be the 
 

 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE, xxxvii 
 
 Lady Olivia Porter, his wife. Arigo (see the poem of 
 Amyntor's Grove) signifies Porter's friend, Henry 
 Jermyn. It may be as well to add that the Lettice 
 mentioned at p. 121, was the Lady Lettice Goring, 
 wife of Lovelace's friend, and third daughter of Richard 
 Boyle, first Earl of Cork. This lady died before her 
 husband, to whom she brought no issue. 
 
 The following lines are prefixed to Fons Lachry- 
 marum, &c. by John Quarles, 1648, 8vo., and are 
 subscribed, as will be seen, H. L. ; they may be from 
 the pen of Lovelace ; but, if so, it is strange that they 
 were not admitted, with other productions of a similar 
 character, into the volume published by the poet him- 
 self in 1649, or into that edited by his brother in 1659. 
 
 To MY DEAR FKIEND THE AUTHOE. 
 
 The Son begins to rise, the Father's set : 
 Heav'n took away one light, and pleas'd to let 
 Another rise. Quarles, thy light's divine, 
 And it shall teach Darkness it self to shine. 
 Each word revives thy Father's name, his art 
 Is well imprinted in thy noble heart. 
 I've read thy pleasing lines, wherein I find 
 The rare Endeavors of a modest mind. 
 Proceed as well as thou hast well begun, 
 That we may see the Father by the Son. 
 
 R. L. 
 
 Arms of Lovelace of Bethersden : Gules, on a chief 
 indented argent, three martlets sable. 
 
xxxvii * 
 
 ADDITIONAL NOTES. 
 
 P. xxiv. Mr. Edin[und\ Wyld. 
 
 THIS gentleman, the friend of Aubrey, Author of the Miscellanies, 
 &c., and ( ?) the son of Sir Edmund Wyld, seems to have fur- 
 nished the former with a variety of information on matters of 
 current interest. See Thorns' Anecdotes and Traditions, 1839, 
 p. 99. He is, no doubt, the E. W. Esq., whom Aubrey cites as 
 his authority on one or two occasions, in his Remains of Gentilism 
 and Judaism. He was evidently a person of the most benevo- 
 lent character, and Aubrey (Lives of Eminent Men, ii. 483) pays 
 him a handsome tribute, where he describes him as " a great 
 fautor of ingenious and good men, for meer merit's sake." 
 
 P. 10. John Pinchback Col[onel]. 
 
 PINCHBACK neither is nor was, I believe, a name of common 
 occurrence ; and it is just possible that the Colonel may be the 
 very " old Jack Pinchbacke " mentioned by Sir Nicholas L'Es- 
 trange, in his Merry Passages and Jests, of which a selection was 
 given by Mr. Thorns in his Anecdotes and Traditions, 1839. 
 L'Estrange, it is true, describes the Colonel as a " gamester and 
 rufler, daubed with gold lace'; " but this is not incompatible with 
 the identity between the Pinchbacke., who figures in Lucasta, and 
 Old Jack, who had perhaps not always been " a gamester and 
 ruffler," and whose gold lace had, no doubt, once been in better 
 company than that which he seems to have frequented, when 
 L'Estrange knew him. The " daubed gold lace," after all, only 
 corresponds with the picture, which Lovelace himself may have 
 presented in Gunpowder Alley days. 
 
xxxviii* ADDITIONAL NOTES. 
 
 P. 140. Princesse Katharine, borne, *c., in one day. 
 
 IN Ellis's Original Letters, Second Series, iii. 265, is printed a 
 scrap from Harl. MS. 6988, in the handwriting of the Princess 
 Elizabeth, daughter of Charles I., giving a list of the children of 
 that prince by Henrietta Maria, with the dates of their birth. 
 There mention is made of a Princess Katherine, born Jan. 29> 
 1639. 1639 is, I believe, a slip of the pen for 1637 ; that is to 
 say, the princess was born on the 29th of January, 1637-8. This 
 discrepancy between the Charisteria and the memorandum in 
 Harl. MS. escaped Sir H. Ellis, who was possibly unaware of the 
 existence of the former. For, unless a mistake is assumed on the 
 part of the writer of the MS., the existence of two Princesses 
 Katherine must be granted. 
 
 P. 183. To a Lady with Clulde that ask't an Old Shirt. 
 
 THE custom to which the Poet here refers, was no doubt common 
 in his time ; although the indefatigable Brand does not appear 
 to have met with any illustration of it, except in Lucasta. But 
 since the note at p. 183 was written, the following passage in 
 the old morality of The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom (circa 1570) 
 has come under my notice : 
 " Indulgence [to her son Wit}. 
 
 Well, yet before the goest, hold heare 
 
 My blessing in a cloute, 
 
 Well fare the mother at a needs, 
 
 Stand to thy tackling stout." 
 
 The allusion is to the contemplated marriage of Wit to his be- 
 trothed, Wisdom. 
 
 P. 249. Utremi. 
 
 SEE Love's Labour's Lost, 1598, iv. 3 : 
 
 " Hoi. Old Mantuan ! Old Mantuan ! who understandeth thee 
 not, loves thee not ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa " 
 
 And Singer's Shakespeare, ed. 1856, ii. 257, note 15. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAET I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 EDICATION 3 
 
 Verses addressed to the Author . . 5 
 
 I. POEMS ADDEESSED OR RELATING 
 TO LOCASTA. 
 
 Song. To Lucasta. Going beyond the Seas . . 25 ' 
 
 Song. To Lucasta. Going to the Warres . . 26 * 
 
 A Paradox 27 
 
 ' Song. To Amarantha, that she would Dishevell her 
 
 Haire 29 
 
 Sonnet 31 
 
 ^Ode. To Lucasta. The Rose . . . . - 31 
 
 v \Love Conquer 'd. A Song 33 
 
 A Loose Saraband 34 
 
 Orpheus to Woods ....... 37 
 
 Orpheus to Beasts 37 
 
 Dialogue. Lucasta, Alexis 39 
 
 Sonnet ......... 41 
 
 Lucasta Weeping. Song 42 
 
 * To Lucasta, from Prison. An Epode. ... 43 
 
 Lucasta's Fanne, with a Looking- glasse in it . . 46 
 
 Lucasta, taking the Waters at Tunbridge . . 48 
 
 To Lucasta. Ode Lyrick 50 
 
 Lucasta paying her Obsequies to the Chast Memory 
 
 of my Dearest Cosin Mrs. Bowes Barne[s] . . 51 
 Upon the Curtaine of Lucasta's Picture, it was thus 
 
 Wrought 53 
 
 ^ Lucasta's World. Epode 53 
 
 The Apostacy of One, and but One Lady . . 54 
 Amyntor from beyond the Sea to Alexis. A Dia- 
 logue 56 
 
 Calling Lucasta from her Retirement . . 58 
 
 Amarantha, a Pastoral 60 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 II. POEMS ADDRESSED TO ELLINDA. 
 
 To Ellinda, that lately I have not written 
 
 Ellinda's Glove 
 
 Being Treated. To Ellinda .... 
 To Ellinda, upon his late Recovery. A Paradox 
 
 III. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 To Chloe, courting her for his Friend . . 
 ^ Gratiana Dauncing and Singing .... 
 
 Amyntor's Grove 
 
 The Scrutinie 
 
 Princesse Loysa Drawing 
 
 A Forsaken Lady to her False Servant . 
 /-" The Grassehopper. To My Noble Friend, Mr. 
 Charles Cotton [the elder] 
 
 An Elegie on the Death of Mrs. Cassandra Cotton . 
 
 The Vintage to the Dungeon. A Song . 
 
 On the Death of Mrs. Elizabeth Filmer. An Ele- 
 giacall Epitaph 
 
 To My Worthy Friend Mr. Peter Lilly . 
 
 The Lady A[nne] L[ovelace]. My Asylum in a Great 
 Extremity . 
 
 A Lady with a Falcon on her Fist. To the Honour- 
 able my Cousin A[nne] L[ovelace] 
 
 A Prologue to the Scholars 
 
 The Epilogue 
 
 Against the Love of Great Ones .... 
 VTo Althea, from Prison 
 
 Sonnet. To Generall Goring, after the Pacification 
 at Berwicke 
 
 Sir Thomas Wortley's Sonnet 
 
 The Answer 
 
 A Guiltlesse Lady Imprisoned ; after Penanced 
 
 To His Deare Brother Colonel F[rancis] L[ovelace] . 
 
 To a Lady that desired me I would beare my part with 
 her in a Song 
 
 Valiant Love 1 
 
 1 Since the note at p. 133 was written, the following descrip- 
 tion by Aubrey (Lives, &c., ii. 332), of a picture of the Lady 
 Venetia Digby has fallen under my notice. " Also, at Mr. 
 
CONTENTS. xli 
 
 PAGE 
 
 La Bella Bona Eoba. To My Lady H. . . . 133 
 
 Sonnet. I Cannot Tell," &c 134 
 
 A la Bourbon 135 
 
 The Faire Begger 136 
 
 A Dialogue betwixt Cordanus and Amoret . . 138 
 
 IV. COMMENDATORY AND OTHER VERSES, PREFIXED TO 
 VARIOUS PUBLICATIONS BETWEEN 1638 AND 1647. 
 
 An Elegie. Princesse Katherine Borne, Christened, 
 
 Buried in one Day (1638) 140 
 
 Clitophon and Lucippe translated. To the Ladies 
 
 (1638) 143 
 
 To My Truely Valiant, Learned Friend ; who in his 
 Booke resolv'd the Art Gladiatory into the Ma- 
 
 thematicks (1638) 146 
 
 To Fletcher Reviv'd (1647) 148 
 
 PAKT II. 
 
 I. POEMS ADDRESSED OR RELATING TO LUCASTA. 
 
 Dedication 155 
 
 ToLucasta. Her Reserved Looks . . . 157 
 
 Lucasta Laughing 157 
 
 Night. ToLucasta 158 
 
 Love Inthron'd 159 
 
 HerMuffe - . , . 160 
 
 A Black Patch on Lucasta's Face . . . . 162 
 
 Another 163 
 
 ToLucasta 165 
 
 ToLucasta 165 
 
 Lucasta at the Bath 166 
 
 The Ant 168 
 
 n. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Song. Strive not, &c 170 
 
 In Allusion to the French Song : " N'entendez vous 
 
 pas ce Language " 171 
 
 Rose's, a jeweller in Henrietta Street, in Covent Garden, is an ex- 
 cellent piece of hers, drawne after she was newly dead. She had 
 a most lovely sweet-turned face, delicate darke browne haire. 
 She had a perfect healthy constitution ; strong ; good skin ; well- 
 proportioned ; inclining to a Bona-Roba" 
 
 d 
 
xlii CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Courante Monsieur . . . . . . . 173 
 
 A Loose Saraband 174 
 
 The Falcon 176 
 
 Love made in the First Age. ToChloris. . . 180 
 
 To a Lady with Child that ask'd an Old Shirt . . 183 
 
 Song. In mine own Monument I lye, &c. . . 184 
 
 Another. I did believe, &c 184 
 
 Ode. You are deceiv'd, &c 185 
 
 The Duell 187 
 
 Cupid far gone 188 
 
 A Mock Song 190 
 
 A Fly caught in a Cobweb 191 
 
 A Fly about a Glasse of Burnt Claret . . . 193 
 
 Female Glory 196 
 
 A Dialogue. Lute and Voice 197 
 
 A Mock Charon. Dialogue 198 
 
 The Toad and Spy der. A Duell . . . . 199 
 
 The Snayl 207 
 
 Another 209 
 
 The Triumphs of Philamore and Amoret . . . 211 
 
 Advice to my best Brother, Coll : Francis Lovelace . 218 
 
 Paris's 'Second Judgement 221 
 
 Peinture. A Panegyrick to the best Picture of 
 
 Friendship, Mr. Pet. Lilly . . . . . 222 
 An Anniversary on the Hymeneals of my Noble 
 
 Kinsman, Thomas Stanley, Esq 227 
 
 On Sanazar's being honoured with 600 Duckets by the 
 
 Clarissimi of Venice . . . . 229 
 
 III. COMf. ENDATORY VERSES, PREFIXED TO VARIOUS 
 PUBLICATIONS BETWFEN 1652 AND 1657. 
 
 To My Dear Friend, Mr. E[ldred] R[evett] on his 
 
 Poems moral and divine ..... 241 
 
 On the Best, Last, and only Remaining Comedy of 
 
 Mr. Fletcher, The Wild -Goose Chase (1652) . 245 
 
 To My Noble Kinsman Thomas Stanley, Esq. ; on his 
 Lyrick Poems composed by Mr. John Gamble 
 (1656) 247 
 
 To Dr. F. B[eale] ; on his Book of Chesse (1656) . 249 
 
 To the Genius of Mr. John Hall (1657) . . . 250 
 
 TRANSLATIONS 253 
 
 ELEGIES ON THE DEATH or THE AUTHOR . . 279 
 
L U C A S T A: 
 
 EPODES, ODES, SONNETS, 
 SONGS, &c. 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED 
 
 ARAMANTHA, 
 
 ASTORALL 
 
 BY 
 ICHARD LOVELACE, 
 
 Efq. 
 
 LONDON, 
 
 Printed by THO. HARPER, and are to be fold 
 
 by THO. EVVSTER, at the GUN, in 
 
 I vie Lane. 1649. 
 
THE DEDICATION. 
 
 TO THE EIGHT HON. MY LADY ANNE 
 LOVELACE. 1 
 
 the richest Treasury 
 That e'er fill'd ambitious eye ; 
 To the faire bright Magazin 
 Hath impoverisht Love's Queen ; 
 
 To th' Exchequer of all honour 
 
 (All take pensions but from her) ; 
 
 To the taper of the thore 
 
 Which the god himselfe but bore ; 
 
 To the Sea of Chaste Delight; 
 
 Let me cast the Drop I write. 
 And as at Loretto's shrine 
 
 Caesar shovels in his mine, 
 
 This lady was the wife of the unfortunate John, second Lord 
 Lovelace, who suffered so severely for his attachment to the 
 King's cause, and daughter to the equally unfortunate Thomas, 
 Earl of Cleveland, who was equally devoted to his sovereign, and 
 whose estates were ordered by the Parliament to be sold, July 26, 
 1650. See Parliaments and Councils of England, 1839, p. 507. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 TV Empres spreads her carkanets, 
 The lords submit their coronets, 
 Knights their chased armes hang by, 
 Maids diamond-ruby fancies tye ; 
 Whilst from the pilgrim she wears , 
 One poore false pearl, but ten true tears : 
 
 So among the Orient prize, 
 (Sapliyr-onyx eulogies) 
 Offer'd up unto your fame, 
 Take my GARNET-DUBLET name, 
 And vouchsafe 'midst those rich joyes 
 (With devotion) these TO YES. 
 
 RICHARD LOVELACE. 
 
TO MY BEST BROTHER ON HIS POEMS 
 CALLED "LUCASTA." 
 
 OW y' have oblieg'd the age, thy wel known 
 worth 
 
 Is to our joy auspiciously brought forth. 
 Good morrow to thy son, thy first borne flame 
 Which, as thou gav'st it birth, stamps it a name, 
 That Fate and a discerning age shall set 
 The chiefest Jewell in her coronet. 
 
 Why then needs all this paines, those season'd pens, 
 
 That standing lifeguard to a booke (kinde friends), 
 
 That with officious care thus guard thy gate, 
 
 As if thy Child were illigitimate ? 
 
 Forgive their freedome, since unto their praise 
 
 They write to give, not to dispute thy bayes. 
 
 As when some glorious queen, whose pregnant wombe 
 Brings forth a kingdome with her first-borne Sonne, 
 Marke but the subjects joy full hearts and eyes : 
 Some offer gold, and others sacrifice ; 
 This si ayes a lambe, that, not so rich as hee, 
 Brings but a dove, this but a bended knee ; 
 
6 VERSES ADDRESSED 
 
 And though their giftes be various, yet their sence 
 Speaks only this one thought, Long live the prince. 
 
 So, my hest brother, if unto your name 
 I offer up a thin blew-burning flame, 
 Pardon my love, since none can make thee shine, 
 Vnlesse they kindle first their torch at thine. 
 Then as inspir'd, they boldly write, nay that, 
 Which their amazed lights but twinkPd at, 
 And their illustrate thoughts doe voice this right, 
 Lucasta held their torch ; thou gav'st it light. 
 
 FBANCIS LOVELACE, Col. 
 
 AD EUNDEM. 
 
 puer Idalius tremulis circumvolat alis, 
 Quern prope sedentem 1 castior 2 uret amor. 
 Lampada sic videas circumvolitare Py- 
 
 rausta, 3 
 
 Cui contingenti est flamma futura rogus. 
 Ergo procul fugias, Lector, cui nulla placebunt 
 
 Carmina, ni fuerint turpia, spurca, nigra. 
 Sacrificus Roma3 lustralem venditat undam : 
 
 Castior est ilia Castalis unda mihi : 
 Limpida, et tfaiKfivYis, nulla putredine spissa, 
 
 Scilicet ex puro defluit ilia jugo. 
 Ex pura veniunt tain dia poemata mente, 
 Cui scelus est Veneris vel tetigisse fores. 
 
 THOMAS HAMEB.SLEY, Eques Auratus. 
 
 1 Old ed. sidentem. a Old ed. cartior. 
 
 3 See Scheller's Lex. Tot. Lat. voce Pyrausta and Pyralis. 
 
TO THE AUTHOR. 
 
 ON THE POEMS. 
 
 OW humble is thy muse (Deare) that can 
 
 daign 
 
 Such servants as my pen to entertaine ! 
 "When all the sonnes of wit glory to he 
 Clad in thy muses gallant livery. 
 I shall disgrace my master, prove a staine, 
 And no addition to his honour'd traine ; 
 Though all that read me will presume to swear 
 I neer read thee : yet if it may appear, 
 I love the writer and admire the writ, 
 I my owne want hetray, not wrong thy wit. 
 Did thy worke want a prayse, my barren brain 
 Could not afford it : my attempt were vaine. 
 It needs no foyle : All that ere writ before, 
 Are foyles to thy faire Poems, and no more. 
 Then to be lodg'd in the same sheets with thine, 
 May prove disgrace to yours, but grace to mine. 
 
 NORBIS JEPHSON, Col. 
 
 TO MY MUCH LOVED FKIEND, EICHAED 
 LOVELACE ESQ. 
 
 Carmen Eroticum. 
 ? 
 i E AEE Lovelace, I am now about to prove 
 
 I cannot write a verse, but can write love. 
 On such a subject as thy booke I coo'd 
 Write books much greater, but not half so good. 
 
VERSES ADDRESSED 
 
 But as the humble tenant, that does bring 
 
 A chicke or egges for's offering, 
 
 Is tane into the buttr j, and does fox l 
 
 Equall with him that gave a stalled oxe : 
 
 So (since the heart of ev'ry cheerfull giver 
 
 Makes pounds no more accepted then a stiver), 2 
 
 Though som thy prayse in rich stiles sing, I may 
 
 In stiver- stile write love as well as they. 
 
 I write so well that I no criticks feare ; 
 
 For who'le read mine, when as thy booke 's so neer, 
 
 Vnlesse thy selfe ? then you shall secure mine 
 
 From those, and lie engage my selfe for thine. 
 
 They'l do't themselves ; the this allay you'l take, 
 
 I love thy book, and yet not for thy sake. 
 
 JOHN JEPHSON, Col. 3 
 
 1 To fox usually means to intoxicate. To fox oneself is to get 
 drunk, and to fox a person is to make him drunk. The word in 
 this sense belongs to the cant vocabulary. But in the present 
 case, fox merely signifies to fare or to feast. 
 
 2 A Dutch penny. It is very likely that this individual had 
 served with the poet in Holland. 
 
 3 Three members of this family, or at least three persons of 
 this name, probably related, figure in the history of the present 
 period, viz., Colonel John Jephson, apparently a military asso- 
 ciate of Lovelace ; Norris Jephson, who contributed a copy of 
 verses to Lucasta, and to the first folio edition of Beaumont and 
 Fletcher's plays, 1647; and William Jephson, whose name 
 occurs among the subscribers to the Solemn League and Covenant, 
 1643. 
 
 
TO THE A UTHOR. 
 
 TO MY NOBLE AND MOST INGENIOUS FRIEND, 
 
 COLOXEL RICHARD LOVELACE, 
 
 UPON HIS "LUCASTA." 
 
 O from the pregnant braine of Jove did rise 
 Pallas, the queene of wit and beautious 
 
 eyes, 
 
 As faire Lucasta from thy temples flowes, 
 Temples no lesse ingenious then Joves. 
 Alike in birth, so shall she be in fame, 
 And be immortall to preserve thy Name. 
 
 ANOTHER, UPON THE POEMS. 
 
 ; OW, when the wars augment our woes and 
 
 fears, 
 And the shrill noise of drums oppresse our 
 
 ears; 
 
 Now peace and safety from our shores are fled 
 To holes and cavernes to secure their head ; 
 Now all the graces from the land are sent, 
 And the nine Muses suffer banishment ; 
 Whence spring these raptures ? whence this heavenly 
 
 rime, 
 
 So calme and even in so harsh a time ? 
 Well might that charmer his faire Cselia 1 crowne, 
 
 1 Many poets have celebrated the charms of a Ccelia; but I 
 apprehend that the writer here intends Carew. 
 
10 VERSES ADDEESSED 
 
 And that more polish't Tyterus 1 renowne 
 
 His Sacarissa, when in groves and bowres 
 
 They could repose their limbs on beds of flowrs : 
 
 When wit had prayse, and merit had reward, 
 
 And every noble spirit did accord 
 
 To love the Muses, and their priests to raise, 
 
 And interpale their browes with flourishing bayes ; 
 
 But in a tune distracted so to sing, 
 
 When peace is hurried hence on rages wing, 
 
 When the fresh bayes are 2 from the Temple tome, 
 
 And every art and science made a scorne ; 
 
 Then to raise up, by musicke of thy art, 
 
 Our drooping spirits and our grieved hearts ; 
 
 Then to delight our souls, and to inspire 
 
 Our breast with pleasure from thy charming lyre ; 
 
 Then to divert our sorrowes by thy straines, 
 
 Making us quite forget our seven yeers paines 
 
 In the past wars, unlesse that Orpheus be 
 
 A sharer in thy glory : for when he 
 
 Descended downe for his Euridice, 
 
 He stroke his lute with like admired art, 
 
 And made the damned to forget their smart. 
 
 JOHN PINCHBACKE, Col. 
 
 1 Waller. 2 Original has is. 
 
TO THE AUTHOR. 11 
 
 EHASTIKON. 
 
 Kai TrvTuv fAWfJiofruvyv 
 yv yag vroiEtv ayabw TTOVOS atpQovos eeri, 
 Ov jwbzi aluv oldev o' 
 
 ao, 
 
 TEOV. 
 
 YILLIERS HABINGTON, L. C. 
 
 TO HIS MUCH HONOURED FEIEND, 
 
 ME. RICHARD LOVELACE, 
 
 ON HIS POEMS. 
 
 i E that doth paint the beauties of your verse, 
 Must use your pensil, be polite, soft, terse ; 
 Forgive that man whose best of art is love, 
 If he no equall master to you prove. 
 My heart is all my eloquence, and that 
 Speaks sharp affection, when my words fall flat ; 
 I reade you like my mistresse, and discry 
 In every line the quicknesse of her eye : 
 Her smoothnesse in each syllable, her grace 
 To marshall ev'ry word in the right place. 
 It is the excellence and soule of wit, 
 When ev'ry thing is free as well as fit : 
 For metaphors packt up and crowded close 
 Swath y e minds sweetnes, and display the throws, 
 
12 VERSES ADDRESSED 
 
 And, like those chickens hatcht in furnaces, 
 Produce or one limbe more, or one limbe lesse 
 Then nature bids. Survey such when they write, 
 No clause but's justl'd with an epithite. 
 So powerfully you draw when you perswade, 
 Passions in you in us are vertues made ; 
 Such is the magick of that lawnill shell 
 That where it doth but talke, it doth compell : 
 For no Apelles 'till this time e're drew 
 A Venus to the waste so well as you. 
 
 W. ElJDYEED. 1 
 
 i^HE world shall now no longer mourne nor vex 
 For th' obliquity of a cross-grain'd sex ; 
 Nor beauty swell above her bankes, (and 
 
 made 
 
 For ornament) the universe invade 
 So fiercely, that 'tis question'd in our bookes, 
 Whether kils most the Amazon's sword or lookes. 
 Lucasta in loves game discreetly makes 
 Women and men joyntly to share the stakes, 
 And lets us know, when women scorne, it is 
 Mens hot love makes the antiparisthesis ; 
 And a lay lover here such comfort finds 
 As Holy Writ gives to affected minds. 
 
 1 Only son of Sir Benjamin Rudyerd, Kt., known as a poet 
 and a friend of poets, and as a warm advocate of Episcopj 
 See Memoirs of Sir B. R., edited by Manning, 1841, 8vo., p. 255 
 
TO THE A UTHOE. 13 
 
 The wilder nymphs, lov's power could not comand, 
 Are by thy almighty numbers brought to hand, 
 And flying Daphnes, caught, amazed vow 
 They never heard Apollo court till now. 
 'Tis not by force of armes this feat is done, 
 For that would puzzle even the Knight o' th' Sun ; * 
 But 'tis by pow'r of art, and such a way 
 As Orpheus us'd, when he made fiends obay. 
 
 J. NEEDLER, Hosp. Grayensis. 
 
 TO HIS NOBLE FBIEND, ME. KICHAKD 
 
 LOVELACE, UPON HIS POEMS. 
 
 Sin, 
 
 r=jjv^ 
 
 (VB times are much degenerate from those, 
 Which your sweet Muse, which your fair 
 
 fortune chose ; 
 
 And as complexions alter with the climes, 
 Our wits have drawne th' infection of our times. 
 That candid age no other way could tell 
 To be ingenious, but by speaking well. 
 Who best could prayse, had then the greatest prayse ; 
 
 1 A celebrated romance, very frequently referred to by our old 
 writers. Sir Thomas Overbury, in his Characters, represents a 
 chambermaid as carried away by the perusal of it into the realms 
 of romance, insomuch that she can barely refrain from forsaking 
 her occupation, and turning lady-errant. The book is better 
 known under the title of The Mirror of Princely Deedes and 
 KnightJiood, wherein is shewed the worthinesse of the Knight of 
 the Sunne, &c. It consists of nine parts, which appear to have 
 been published at intervals between 1585 and 1601. 
 
14 VERSES ADDRESSED 
 
 'Twas more esteemd to give then wear the bayes. 
 
 Modest amhition studi'd only then 
 
 To honour not her selfe, but worthy men. 
 
 These vertues now are banisht out of towne, 
 
 Our Civill Wars have lost the civicke crowne. 
 
 He highest builds, who with most art destroys, 
 
 And against others fame his owne employs. 
 
 I see the envious caterpillar sit 
 
 On the faire blossome of each growing wit. 
 
 The ayre's already tainted with the swarms 
 Of insects, which against you rise in arms. 
 Word-peckers, paper-rats, book-scorpions, 
 Of wit corrupted the unfashion'd sons. 
 The barbed censurers begin to looke 
 Like the grim Consistory on thy booke ; 
 And on each line cast a reforming eye 
 Severer then the yong presbytery. 
 Till, when in vaine they have thee all peras'd, 
 You shall for being faultlesse be accus'd. 
 Some reading your Lucasta will alledge 
 You wrong'd in her the Houses priviledge ; 
 Some that you under sequestration are, 
 Because you write when going to the Warre ; 
 And one the book prohibits, because Kent 
 Their first Petition by the Authour sent. 
 
 But when the beauteous ladies came to know, 
 That their deare Lovelace was endanger'd so : 
 Lovelace, that thaw'd the most congealed brest, 
 He who lov'd best, and them defended best, 
 Whose hand so rudely grasps the steely brand, 
 Whose hand so gently melts the ladies hand, 
 
TO THE AUTHOR. 15 
 
 They all in mutiny, though yet undrest, 
 
 Sally'd, and would in his defence contest. 
 
 And one, the loveliest that was yet e're seen, 
 
 Thinking that I too of the rout had been, 
 
 Mine eyes invaded with a female spight 
 
 (She knew what pain 't would be to lose that sight). 
 
 O no, mistake not, I reply'd : for I 
 
 In your defence, or in his cause, would dy. 
 
 But he, secure of glory and of time, 
 
 Above their envy or mine aid doth clime. 
 
 Him valianst men and fairest nymphs approve, 
 
 His booke in them finds judgement, with you, love. 
 
 ANDR. MABVELL. 
 
 TO COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE, 
 
 ON THE PUBLISHING OP HIS 
 
 INGENIOUS POEMS. 
 
 F the desire of glory speak a mind 
 More nobly operative and more refin'd, 
 What vast soule moves thee, or what hero's 
 
 spirit 
 
 (Kept in'ts traduction pure) dost thou inherit, 
 That, not contented with one single fame, 
 Dost to a double glory spread thy name, 
 And on thy happy temples safely set 
 Both th' Delphick wreath and civic coronet ? 
 Was't not enough for us to know how far 
 Thou couldst in season suffer, act and dare? 
 
16 VERSES ADDRESSED 
 
 But we must also witnesse, with what height 
 
 And what lonick sweetnesse thou canst write, 
 
 And melt those eager passions, that are 
 
 Stubborn enough t' enrage the god of war 
 
 Into a noble love, which may expire * 
 
 In an illustrious pyramid of fire ; 
 
 Which, having gained his due station, may 
 
 Fix there, and everlasting flames display. 
 
 This is the braver path : time soone can smother 
 
 The dear-bought spoils and tropheis of the other. 
 
 How many fiery heroes have there been, 
 
 Whose triumphs were as soone forgot as seen ? 
 
 Because they wanted some diviner one 
 
 To rescue the from night, and make the known. 
 
 Such art thou to thy selfe. While others dream 
 Strong flatt'ries on a fain'd or borrow'd theam, 
 Thou shalt remaine in thine owne lustre bright, 
 And adde unto 't LvcastcCs chaster light. 
 
 For none so fit to sing great things as he, 
 That can act o're all lights of poetry. 
 Thus 'had Achilles his owne gests design'd, 
 He had his genius Homer far outshin'd. 
 
 Jo. HAI.L. 
 
 1 Original has aspire, 
 
 2 The precocious author of Horce Vacivce, 1646, and of a volnm 
 of poems which was printed in the same year. In the Lucasta 
 are some complimentary lines by Lovelace on Hall's translation 
 of the commentary of Hierocles on the Golden Verses of Pytha- 
 goras, 1657. 
 
TO THE AUTHOR. 17 
 
 TO THE HONORABLE, VALIANT, AND INGENIOUS 
 
 COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE, 
 
 ON HIS EXQUISITE POEMS. 
 
 ?OETS and painters have some near relation, 
 Compar'd with fancy and imagination ; 
 The one paints shadowed persons (in pure 
 
 kind), 
 
 The other paints the pictures of the mind 
 In purer verse. And as rare Zeuxes fame 
 Shin'd, till Apelles art eclips'd the same 
 By a more exquisite and curious line 
 In Zeuxeses (with pensill far more fine), 
 So have our modern poets late done well, 
 Till thine appear'd (which scarce have paralel). 
 
 They like to Zeuxes grapes beguile the sense, 
 But thine do ravish the intelligence, 
 Like the rare banquet of Apelles, drawn, 
 And covered over with most curious lawn. 
 
 Thus if thy careles draughts are cal'd the best, 
 What would thy lines have beene, had'st thou profest 
 That faculty (infus'd) of poetry, 
 Which adds such honour unto thy chivalry ? 
 Doubtles thy verse had ah 1 as far transcended 
 As Sydneyes Prose, who Poets once defended. 
 
 For when I read thy much renowned pen, 
 My fancy there finds out another Ben 
 In thy brave language, judgement, wit, and art, 
 Of every piece of thine, in every part : 
 Where thy seraphique Sydneyan fire is raised high 
 In valour, vertue, love, and loyalty. 
 JL c 
 
18 VEESES ADDRESSED 
 
 Virgil was styl'd the loftiest of all, 
 Ovid the smoothest and most naturall ; 
 Martiall concise and witty, quaint and pure, 
 luvenall grave and learned, though obscure. 
 
 But all these rare ones which I heere reherse, 
 Do live againe in Thee, and in thy Verse : 
 Although not in the language of their time, 
 Yet in a speech as copious and sublime. 
 
 The rare Apelles in thy picture wee 
 Perceive, and in thy soule Apollo see. 
 Wei may each Grace and Muse then crown thy praise 
 With Mars his banner and Minerva's bayes. 
 
 FRA. 
 
 TO HIS HONOURED AND INGENIOUS FRIEND, 
 
 COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE, 
 
 ON HIS "LUCASTA." 
 
 [HAST as Creation meant us, and inon 
 
 bright 
 
 Then the first day in 's uneclipsed light, 
 Is thy Lucasta ; and thou offerest heere 
 Lines to her name as undefil'd and cleere ; 
 
 1 The author of the Young Gallant's Whirligigg, 1629, an 
 other poetical works. Singer does not give these lines. In tb 
 WTiirligig there is a curious picture of a young gallant of tb 
 time of Charles I., to which Lovelace might have sat, had b 
 been old enough at the time. But Lenton had no want of sittei 
 for his portrait. 
 
TO THE A UTHOE. 19 
 
 Such as the first indeed more happy dayes 
 (When vertue, wit, and learning wore the bayes 
 Now vice assumes) would to her memory give : 
 A Vestall flame that should for ever live, 
 Plac't in a christal temple, rear'd to be 
 The Embleme of her thoughts integrity ; 
 And on the porch thy name insculpt, my friend, 
 Whose love, like to the flame, can know no end. 
 The marble step that to the alter brings 
 The hallowed priests with their clean offerings, 
 Shall hold their names that humbly crave to be 
 Votaries to th' shrine, and grateful friends to thee. 
 So shal we live (although our offrings prove 
 Meane to the world) for ever by thy love. 
 
 THO. RAWLINS.* 
 
 
 TO MY DEAR BEOTHEE, COLONEL 
 EICHAED LOVELACE. 
 
 doe my nothing too, and try 
 To dabble to thy memory. 
 Not that I offer to thy name 
 Encomiums of thy lasting fame. 
 
 Those by the landed have been writ : 
 
 Mine's but a yonger-brother wit ; 
 
 A wit that's hudled up in scarres, 
 
 Borne like my rough selfe in the warres ; 
 
 1 A well known dramatist and poet. These lines are not in 
 ager's reprint. 
 
20 VERSES ADDRESSED 
 
 And as a Squire in the fight 
 Serves only to attend the Knight, 
 So 'tis my glory in this field, 
 Where others act, to beare thy shield. 
 
 DUDLEY LOVELACE, Capt. 1 
 
 1 The youngest brother of the poet. Besides the present lines, 
 and some to be found in the posthumous volume, of which he 
 was the editor, this gentleman contributed the following com- 
 mendatory poem to Ayres and Dialogues [by Thomas Stanley 
 Esq.] set by John Gamble, 1656. The verses themselves hav< 
 little merit; and the only object which I had in introducing 
 them, was to add to the completeness of the present edition : 
 
 TO MY MUCH HONORED COZEN, MR. STANLEY, 
 
 UPON HIS POEMS SET BY MR. JOHN GAMBLE. 
 I. 
 
 ENOUGH, enough of orbs and spheres, 
 
 Reach me a trumpet or a drum, 
 To sound sharp synnets in your ears, 
 
 And beat a deep encomium. 
 
 II. 
 
 I know not th' Eight Intelligence : 
 Those that do understand it, pray 
 
 Let them step hither, and from thence 
 Speak what they all do sing or say : 
 
 in. 
 Nor what your diapasons are, 
 
 Your sympathies and symphonies; 
 To me they seem as distant farre 
 
 As whence they take their infant rise. 
 
 rv. 
 
 But I've a grateful heart can ring 
 A peale of ordnance to your praise, 
 
 And volleys of small plaudits bring 
 To clowd a crown about your baies. 
 
TO THE AUTHOR. 21 
 
 DE DOMINO EICHAEDO LOVELACIO, 
 
 ABMIGEBO ET CmLiAncHA, 1 VIKO INCOMPARABLLI. 
 
 CCE tibi, heroi claris natalibus orto ; 2 
 Cujus honoratos Cantia vidit avos. 
 Cujus adhuc memorat rediviva Batavia 
 
 patrem, 
 Inter et Herculeos enumerare solet. 
 
 Though laurel is thought thunder free, 
 That storms and lightning disallows, 
 
 Yet Cassar thorough fire and sea 
 
 Snatches her to twist his conquering brows. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And now me thinks like him you stand 
 I' th' head of all the Poets' hoast, 
 
 Whilest with your words you do command, 
 They silent do their duty boast. 
 
 Which done, the army ecchoes o're, 
 
 Like Gamble los one and all, 
 And in their various notes implore, 
 
 Long live our noble Generall. 
 
 DUDLEY POSTHUMUS LOVELACE. 
 
 1 Strictly speaking, the officer in command of a thousand men, 
 com the Greek xiXiapxrjg, or x i ^ l "PXe> but in the present in- 
 tance meaning nothing more than Colonel. 
 
 3 I have amended the text of these lines, which in the original 
 i very corrupt. I suppose that the compositor was left to him- 
 3lf, as usual. 
 
22 VERSES ADDRESSED 
 
 Qui tua Grollaferox, laceratus vulnere multo, 
 
 Fulmineis vidit mcenia Pacta globis. 
 Et cum ssova tuas fudisset Iberia turmas, 
 
 Afflatu pyrii pulveris ictus obit. 
 Hsec sint magna : tamen major majoribus bic est, 
 
 Nititur et pennis altius ire no vis. 
 Sermonem patrium callentem et murmura CelteB, 
 
 Non piguit linguas edidicisse duas. 
 Quicquid Koma vetus, vel quicquid GrsBcia jactat, 
 
 Musarum nutrix alma Galena dedit. 
 Gnaviter Ilesperios compressit Marte cacbinnos, 
 
 Devictasque dedit Cantaber ipse man us. 
 Non evitavit validos Dunkerka lacertos, 
 
 Non intercludens alta Lacuna vias, 
 Et scribenda gerens vivaci marmore digna, 
 
 Scribere Ca3sareo more vel ipse potest. 
 Cui gladiuin Bellona dedit, calamumque Minerva, 
 
 Et geminse Laurus circuit umbra comam. 
 Cujus si faciem spectes vultusque decorem, 
 
 Vix puer Idalius gratior ore fuit. 
 
 AD EUNDEM. 
 
 EKRICO succede meo : dedit ille priora 
 Carmina, carminibus non meliora tuis. * 
 
 Herrick's Hesperides had appeared in 1648. 
 
TO THE A UTHOR. 23 
 
 IIEPI TOT ATTOT. 
 
 Aouhdxiog 
 
 EO-TI <plhog, xai TO wyta <pito$. 
 ayouthurov 
 
 'Oj vsog EV TvrQais TTIVVTUS <rhi$Eacriv zQws 
 HOWTUV Exaarov 
 
 xai 
 
 Scripsit Jo. HABMABUS, 
 
 Oxoniensis, C. W. M. l 
 
 1 A celebrated scholar and philologist. An account of him 
 will be found in Bliss's edition of Wood's Athena:. He published 
 an Elegy on St. Alban the Protomartyr and an Apology for 
 Archbishop Williams, and edited Scapula. These lines are 
 omitted by Singer. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 SONG: 
 
 BET BY MB. HENBY LAWES. 1 
 TO LUCASTA. GOING BEYOND THE SEAS. 
 
 
 'F to be absent were to be 
 
 Away from tbee ; 
 Or that when I am gone, 
 You or I were alone ; 
 Then my Lucasta^ might I crave 
 Pity from blustring winde or swallowing wave. 
 
 n. 
 But I'le not sigh one blast or gale 
 
 To swell my saile, 
 Or pay a teare to swage 
 The foaming blew-gods rage ; 
 For whether he will let me passe 
 Or no, I'm still as happy as I was. 
 
 1 Of Henry and William Lawes an account may be found in 
 Burney and Hawkins. Although the former (H. Lawes) set 
 nany of Lovelace's pieces to music, only two occur in the Ayres 
 md Dialogues for One,Two,and Three Voyces, 1653-55-8, folio. 
 
26 POEMS. 
 
 in. 
 Though seas and land betwixt us both, 
 
 Our faith and troth, 
 Like separated soules, 
 All time and space controules : 
 Above the highest sphere wee meet, 
 Unseene, unknowne, and greet as angels greet. 
 
 IV. 
 
 So then we doe anticipate 
 
 Our after-fate, 
 And are alive i'th' skies, 
 If thus our lips and eyes 
 Can speake like spirits unconfin'd 
 In Heav'n, their earthy bodies left behind. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 SET BY MB. JOHN LANIERE. 
 TO LUCASTA. GOING TO THE WARRES. 
 
 ELL me not, (sweet,) I am unkinde, 
 
 That from the nunnerie 
 Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde 
 To warre and armes I flie. 
 
 H. 
 True : a new Mistresse now I chase, 
 
 The first foe in the field ; 
 And with a stronger faith imbrace 
 A sword, a horse, a shield. 
 
 J 
 
POEMS. 27 
 
 m. 
 
 Yet this inconstancy is such, 
 
 As you too shall adore ; 
 I could not love thee, dear, so much, 
 
 Lov'd I not Honour more. 
 
 A PAEADOX. 
 
 IS true the beauteous Starre 1 
 To which I first did bow 
 Burnt quicker, brighter far, 
 
 Than that which leads me now ; 
 Which shines with more delight, 
 For gazing on that light 
 So long, neere lost my sight. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Through foul we follow faire, 
 
 For had the world one face, 
 And earth been bright as ayre, 
 We had knowne neither place. 
 Indians smell not their neast ; 
 A Swisse or Finne tastes best 
 The spices of the East. 2 
 
 1 . e. Lucasta. 
 
 2 The East was celebrated by all our early poets as the land of 
 spices and rich gums : 
 
28 POEMS. 
 
 m. 
 
 So from the glorious Sunne 
 
 Who to his height hath got, 
 With what delight we runne 
 To some black cave or grot ! 
 And, heav'nly Sydney you 
 Twice read, had rather view 
 Some odde romance so new. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The god, that constant keepes 
 
 Unto his deities, 
 Is poore in joyes, and sleepes 
 Imprison'd in the skies. 
 This knew the wisest, who 
 From Juno stole, below 
 To love a bear or cow. 
 
 " For now the fragrant East, 
 The spicery o" th' -world, 
 Hath hurl'd 
 A rosie tincture o'er the Phoenix nest." 
 
 Otia Sacra, by Mildmay, Earl of Westmoreland, 
 1648, p. 37. 
 
 
POEMS. 29 
 
 SONG. 
 
 SET BY MB. HENRY LAWES. 
 
 TO AMARANTHA ; ' THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVELL 
 HER HAIRE. 
 
 I. 
 'MAKAXTHA sweet and faire, 
 
 All brade 2 no more that shining haire ! 
 
 As my curious hand or eye, 
 Hovering round thee, let it flye. 
 
 n. 
 
 Let it flye as unconfm'd 
 As it's calme ravisher, the winde, 
 
 Who hath left his darling, th' East, 
 To wanton o're that 3 spicie neast. 
 
 in. 
 
 Ev'ry tresse must be confest : 
 But neatly tangled at the best ; 
 
 1 A portion of this song is printed, with a few orthographical 
 variations, in the Ayres and Dialogues, part i. 1653; and it is 
 also found in Cotgrave's Wits Interpreter, 1655, where it is called 
 " Amarantha counselled." Cotgrave used the text of Lawes, and 
 only gives that part of the production which he found in Ayres 
 and Dialogues. 
 
 * Forbear to brade Lawes' Ayres and Dialogues, and Cot- 
 grave. 
 
 3 This Lawes' Ayres and Dialogues. Cotgrave reads his. 
 
30 POEMS. 
 
 Like a clue of golden thread, 
 Most excellently ravelled. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Doe not then winde up that light 
 In ribands, and o'er-cloud in night, 
 
 Like the sun in's early ray ; 
 But shake your head, and scatter day. 
 
 v. 
 
 See, 'tis broke ! within this grove, 
 The bower and the walkes of love, 
 
 Weary lye we downe and rest, 
 And fanne each other's panting breast. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Heere wee'll strippe and coole our fire, 
 In creame below, in milke-baths 1 higher : 
 
 And when all wells are drawne dry, 
 I'll drink a teare out of thine eye. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Which our very joys shall leave, 
 That sorrowes thus we can deceive ; 
 
 Or our very sorrowes weepe, 
 That joyes so ripe so little keepe. 
 
 1 ' Milk-baths have been a favourite luxury in all ages. Peele 
 had probably in his mind, the custom of his own time and 
 try when he wrote the following passage : 
 
 " Bright Bethsabe shall wash in David's bower, 
 In water mix'd with purest almond flower, 
 And bathe her beauty in the milk of kids." 
 
 King David and Fair JBethsabe, 1599. 
 

 POEMS. 31 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 SET BY MB. HUDSON. 
 I. 
 
 EPOSE your finger of that ring, 
 
 And crowne mine with't awhile ; 
 Now I restor't. Pray, dos it bring 
 
 Back with it more of soile ? 
 Or shines it not as innocent, 
 As honest, as before 'twas lent ? 
 
 ii. 
 So then inrich me with that treasure, 
 
 'Twill but increase your store, 
 And please me (faire one) with that pleasure 
 
 Must please you still the more. 
 Not to save others is a curse 
 The blackest, when y'are ne're the worse. 
 
 ODE. 
 
 SET BY DB JOHN WILSON. 
 
 TO LUCASTA. THE ROSE. 
 
 I. 
 
 WEET serene skye-like flower, 
 Haste to adorn her bower ; 
 From thy long clowdy bed 
 Shoot forth thy damaske 2 head. 
 
 1 Dr. John Wilson was a native of Feversham in Kent, a 
 gentleman of Charles the First's chapel, and chamber-musician 
 to his majesty. For an account of his works, see Burney's His- 
 
 I 
 
32 POEMS. 
 
 ii. 
 
 New-startled blush of Flora ! 
 
 The griefe of pale Aurora, 
 Who will contest no more, 
 Haste, haste, to strowe her floore. 
 
 in. 
 
 Vermilion hall, that's given 
 
 From lip to lip in Heaven ; 
 1/oves couches cover-led, 
 Haste, haste, to make her bed. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Dear offspring of pleas'd Venus, 
 
 And jollie plumpe Silenus; 
 
 Haste, haste, to decke the haire, 
 Of th' only sweetly faire. 
 
 v. 
 
 See ! rosie is her bower, 
 Her floore is all this flower ; 
 
 Her bed a rosie nest 
 
 By a bed of roses prest. 
 
 tory of Music, vol. iii. pp. 399-400, or Hawkins' History q, 
 Music, iii. 57, where a portrait of Wilson, taken from the origina 
 painting, will be found. Wood, author of the Fasti and Athena 
 says that he was in his time, " the best at the lute in all Eng- 
 land." Herrick, in his Hesperides, 1648, has these lines in refer- 
 ence to Henry Lawes : 
 
 " Then if thy voice commingle with the string, 
 I hear in thee the rare Laniere to sing, 
 Or curious Wilson." 
 
 * lu a MS. copy of the poem contemporary with the author 
 now before me, this word is omitted. 
 
POEMS. 33 
 
 VI. 
 
 But early as she dresses, 
 Why fly you her bright tresses ? 
 
 Ah ! I have found, I feare ; 
 
 Because her cheekes are neere. 
 
 LOVE CONQUEK'D. 
 A SONG. 
 
 SET BY MB. HENRY LAWES. 
 I. 
 
 HE childish god of love did sweare 
 
 Thus : By my awfull how and quiver, 
 Yon' weeping, kissing, smiling pair, 
 I'le scatter all their vowes i' th' ayr, 
 And their knit imbraces shiver. 
 
 H. 
 Up then to th' head with his best art 
 
 Full of spite and envy blowne, 
 At her constant marble heart, 
 He drawes his swiftest surest dart, 
 
 Which bounded back, and hit his owne. 
 
 ni. 
 Now the prince of fires burnes ; 
 
 Flames in the luster of her eyes ; 
 Triumphant she, refuses, scornes ; 
 He submits, adores and mournes, 
 And is his votresse sacrifice. 
 D 
 
34 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Foolish boy ! resolve me now 
 
 What 'tis to sigh and not be heard ? 
 He weeping kneel'd, and made a vow : 
 The world shall love as yon' fast two ; 
 So on his sing'd wings up he steer'd. 
 
 A LOOSE SAKABAND. 
 
 SET BY MB. HENRY LAWES. 
 
 H me ! the little tyrant theefe ! 
 
 As once my heart was playing, 
 He snatcht it up and flew away, 
 Laughing at all my praying. 
 
 H. 
 Proud of his purchase, 1 he surveys 
 
 And curiously sounds it, 
 And though he sees it full of wounds, 
 
 Cruel one, still 2 he wounds it. 
 
 1 Prize. It is not uncommonly used by the early dramatist 
 in this sense ; but the verb to purchase is more usually found thai 
 the noun. 
 
 " Yet having opportunity, he tries, 
 Gets her goodwill, and with his purchase flies." 
 
 WlTHER's Abuses Striptand Whipt, 1613. 
 
 2 Here I have hazarded an emendation of the text. In origi 
 nal we read, cruell still on. Lovelace's poems were evident!; 
 printed without the slightest care. 
 
POEMS. 35 
 
 in. 
 And now this heart is all his sport, 
 
 Which as a hall he houndeth 
 From hand to breast, from breast to lip, 
 
 And all its l rest confoundeth. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then as a top he sets it up, 
 
 And pitifully whips it ; 
 Sometimes he cloathes it gay and fine, 
 
 Then straight againe he strips it. 
 
 v. 
 
 He cover'd it with false reliefs, 2 
 
 Which gloriously show'd it ; 
 And for a morning-cushionet 
 
 On's mother he bestow'd it. 
 
 YI. 
 Each day, with her small brazen stings, 
 
 A thousand times she rac'd it ; 
 But then at night, bright with her gemmes, 
 
 Once neere her breast she plac'd it. 
 
 VII. 
 
 There warme it gan to "throb and bleed ; 
 
 She knew that smart, and grieved ; 
 At length this poore condemned heart 
 
 With these rich drugges repreeved. 
 
 Original reads it's. ~ Original has beliefe. 
 
36 POEMS. 
 
 vin. 
 She washt the wound with a fresh teare, 
 
 Which my Lucasta dropped, 
 And in the sleave 1 -silke of her haire 
 'Twas hard bound up and wrapped. 
 
 IX. 
 
 She proab'd it with her constancie, 
 And found no rancor nigh it ; 
 
 Only the anger of her eye 
 
 Had wrought some proud flesh by it. 
 
 x. 
 
 Then prest she narde in ev'ry veine, 
 Which from her kisses trilled ; 
 
 And with the balme heald all its paine, 
 That from her hand distilled. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But yet this heart avoyds me still, 
 Will not by me be owned ; 
 
 But 's fled to its physitian's breast ; 
 There proudly sits inthroned. 
 
 1 Soft, like floss. 
 
POEMS. 37 
 
 OKPHEUS TO WOODS. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 SET BY MR. CUBTES. 
 
 EAKK ! Oh heark ! you guilty trees, 
 In whose gloomy galleries 
 Was the cruelPst murder done, 
 That e're yet eclipst the sunne. 
 Be then henceforth in your twigges 
 Blasted, e're you sprout to sprigges ; 
 Feele no season of the yeere, 
 But what shaves off all your haire, 
 Nor carve any from your wombes 
 Ought but coffins and their tombes. 
 
 ORPHEUS 1 TO BEASTS. 
 SONG. 
 
 SET BY MB. CUBTES. 2 
 
 I. 
 
 ERE, here, oh here ! Euridice, 
 
 Here was she slaine ; 
 Her soule 'still' d through a veine 
 The gods knew lesse 
 
 1 By Orpheus we may perhaps understand Lovelace himself, 
 md by Euridice, the lady whom he celebrates under the name of 
 -ucasta. Grainger mentions (Biog- Hist. ii. 74) a portrait of 
 
38 POEMS. 
 
 That time divinitie, 
 
 Then ev'n, ev'n these 
 Of brutishnesse. 
 
 n. 
 
 Oh ! could you view the melodie 
 
 Of ev y r j grace, 
 And musick of her face, 1 
 
 You'd drop a teare, 
 Seeing more harmonie 
 
 In her hright eye, 
 
 Then now you heare. 
 
 Lovelace by Gaywood, in which he is represented as Orpheus. 
 I have not seen it. The old poets were rather fond of likening 
 themselves to this legendary personage, or of designating them- 
 selves his poetical children : 
 
 " We that are Orpheus' sons, and can inherit 
 By that great title " 
 
 DAVENANT'S Works, 1673, p. 2 15. 
 
 Many other examples might be given. Massinger, in his City 
 Madam, 1658, makes Sir John Frugal introduce a representation 
 of the story of the Thracian bard at an entertainment given to 
 Luke Frugal. 
 
 2 A lutenist. Wood says that after the Restoration he became 
 gentleman or singing-man of Christ Church, Oxford. He was one 
 of those musicians who, after the abolition of organs, &c. during 
 the civil war, met at a private house at Oxford for the purpose 
 of taking his part in musical entertainments. 
 
 1 " Such was Zuleika ; such around her shone 
 The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone ; 
 The light of love, the purity of grace, 
 The mind, the music breathing from her face." 
 
 BYRON'S Bride ofAbydos, canto 1. 
 
 ( Works, ed. 1825, ii. 2.9$ 
 
 99.) 
 
POEMS. 39 
 
 DIALOGUE. 
 
 LUCASTA, ALEXIS. 1 
 
 SET BY MB. JOHN GAMBLE. 2 
 
 I. 
 
 Lucasta. 
 
 ELL me, Alexis, what this parting is, 
 That so like dying is, hut is not it ? 
 
 Alexis. 
 
 It is a swounding for a while from hlisse, 
 'Till kind how doe you call's us from the fit. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 If then the spirits only stray, let mine 
 Ely to thy hosome, and my soule to thine : 
 Thus in our native seate we gladly give 
 Our right for one, where we can hetter live. 
 
 ii. 
 Lu. But ah, this ling'ring, murdring farewel ! 
 
 Death quickly wounds, and wounding cures the ill. 
 Alex. It is the glory of a valiant lover, 
 
 Still to be dying, still for to recover. 
 
 1 t. e. the poet himself. 
 
 2 "John Gamble, apprentice to Ambrose Beyland, a noted 
 musician, was afterwards musician at one of the play-houses ; 
 from thence removed to be a cornet in the Bang's Chapel. After 
 that he became one in Charles the Second's band of violins, and 
 composed for the theatres. He published Ayres and Dialogues 
 to the Theorbo and Bass Viol, foL Lond., 1659." HAWKINS. 
 
40 POEMS. 
 
 Clio. Soldiers suspected of their courage goe, 
 
 That ensignes and their breasts untorne show : 
 Love nee're his standard, when his hoste he sets, 
 Creates alone fresh-bleeding bannerets. 
 
 ni. 
 Alex. But part we, when thy figure I retaine 
 
 Still in my heart, still strongly in mine eye ? 
 Lu. Shadowes no longer than the sun remaine, 
 
 But whe his beams, that made 'em, fly, they fly. 
 Clio. Yaine dreames of love ! that only so much blisse 
 Allow us, as to know our wretchednesse ; 
 And deale a larger measure in our paine 
 By showing joy, then hiding it againe. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Alex. No, whilst light raigns, Lucasta still rules here, 
 And all the night shines wholy in this sphere. 
 
 IM. I know no morne but my Alexis ray, 
 
 To my dark thoughts the breaking of the day. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Alex. So in each other if the pitying sun 
 
 Thus keep us fixt, nere may his course be run !. 
 ~Lu. And oh ! if night us undivided make ; 
 
 Let us sleepe still, and sleeping never wake ! 
 
 The dose. 
 
 Cruel adieus may well adjourne awhile 
 The sessions of a looke, a kisse, or smile, 
 And leave behinde an angry grieving blush ; 
 But time nor fate can part us joyned thus. 
 
POEMS. 41 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 SET BY MB. WILLIAM LAWES. 
 
 iHEN I by thy faire shape did sweare, 
 And mingled with each vowe a teare, 
 I lov'd, I lov'd thee best, 
 I swore as I profest. 
 For all the while you lasted warme and pure, 
 
 My oathes too did endure. 
 But once turn'd faithlesse to thy selfe and old, 
 They then with thee incessantly 1 grew cold. 
 
 n. 
 
 I swore my selfe thy sacrifice 
 
 By th' ebon bowes 2 that guard thine eyes, 
 
 Which now are alter'd white, 
 
 And by the glorious light 
 Of both those stars, which of 3 their spheres bereft, 
 
 Only the gellie's left. 
 
 Then changed thus, no more I'm bound to you, 
 Then swearing to a saint that proves untrue. 
 
 1 i. e. at once, immediately. 2 Her eyebrows. 
 
 3 Original reads of which. 
 
42 POEMS. 
 
 LUCASTA WEEPING. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 SET BY MB. JOHN LANEEKE. 
 I. 
 
 UCASTA wept, and still the bright 
 
 Inamour'd god of day, 
 With his soft handkercher of light, 
 Kist the wet pearles away. 
 
 n. 
 But when her teares his heate or'ecame, 
 
 In cloudes he quensht his beanies, 
 And griev'd, wept out his eye of flame, 
 
 So drowned her sad streames. 
 
 in. 1 
 At this she smiled, when straight the sun 
 
 Cleer'd by her kinde desires ; 
 And by her eyes reflexion 
 
 Fast kindl'd there his fires. 
 
 1 This stanza is not found in the printed copy of Lucasta, 1649, 
 but it occurs in a MS. of this poem written, with many composi- 
 tions by Lovelace and other poets, in a copy of Crashaw's Poems, 
 1648, 12mo, a portion of which having been formed of the 
 printer's proof-sheets, some of the pages are printed only on 
 one side, the reverse being covered with MSS. poems, among the 
 rest with epigrams by Mr. Thomas Fuller (about fifty in number). 
 There can be little doubt, from the character of the majority of 
 these little poems, that by " Mr. Thomas Fuller " we may under- 
 stand the church-historian. 
 
POEMS. 43 
 
 TO LUCASTA. FEOM PEIS01ST. 
 AN EPODE. 1 ~* 
 
 in thy shackels, liberty ., 
 I ask not from these walls, but thee ; 
 Left for awhile anothers bride, 
 To fancy all the world beside. 
 
 Yet e're I doe begin to love. 
 See, how I all my objects prove ; 
 Then my free soule to that confine, 
 'Twere possible I might call mine. 
 
 in. 
 
 First I would be in love with Peace, 
 And her rich swelling breasts increase 
 But how, alas ! how may that be, 
 Despising earth, she will love me? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Faine would I be in love with . . 
 As my deare just avenging star ; 
 
 1 This was written, perhaps, during the poet's confinement in 
 Peterhouse, to which he was committed a prisoner on his return 
 from abroad in 1648. At the date of its composition, there can 
 be little doubt, from expressions in stanzas vi. and xii. that the 
 fortunes of Charles I. were at their lowest ebb, and it may be 
 assigned without much risk of error to the end of 1648. 
 
44 POEMS. 
 
 But War is lov'd so ev'rywhere, 
 Ev'n he disdaines a lodging here. 
 
 v. 
 
 Thee and thy wounds I would bemoane, 
 Faire thorough- shot Religion ; 
 But he lives only that kills thee, 
 And who so bindes thy hands, is free. 
 
 VI. 
 
 I would love a Parliament 
 As a maine prop from Heav'n sent ; 
 But ah ! who's he, that would be wedded 
 To th' fairest body that's beheaded ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 Next would I court my Liberty, 
 And then my birth-right, Property ; 
 But can that be, when it is knowne, 
 There's nothing you can call your owne ? 
 
 vm. 
 
 A Reformation I would have, 
 As for our griefes a Sov'r&igne salve ; 
 That is, a cleansing of each wheele 
 Of state, that yet some rust doth feele. 
 
 IX. 
 
 But not a reformation so, 
 As to reforme were to ore'throw, 
 Like watches by unskilfull men 
 Disjoynted, and set ill againe. 
 
POEMS. 45 
 
 x. 
 
 The Pullick Faith 1 1 would adore, 
 But she is banke-rupt of her store : 
 Nor how to trust her can I see, 
 For she that couzens all, must me. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Since then none of these can be 
 Fit objects for my love and me ; 
 What then remaines, but th' only spring 
 Of all our loves and joyes, the King ? 
 
 XII. 
 
 He who, being the whole ball 
 Of day on earth, lends it to all ; 
 When seeking to ecclipse his right, 
 Blinded we stand in our owne light. 
 
 XIH. 
 
 And now an universall mist 
 
 Of error is spread or'e each breast, 
 
 With such a fury edg'd as is 
 
 Not found in th' inwards of th' abysse. 
 
 1 " The publick faith ? why 'tis a word of kin, 
 A nephew that dares cozen any sin ; 
 A term of art, great Behemoth's younger brother, 
 Old Machamel and half a thousand other ; 
 Which, when subscrib'd, writes Legion, names on truss, 
 Abaddon, Belzebub, and Incubus." 
 
 CLEAVELAND'S Poems, ed. 1669, p. 91. 
 
16 POEMS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Oh, from thy glorious starry waine 
 Dispense on me one sacred beame, 
 To light me where I soone may see 
 How to serve you, and you trust me ! 
 
 LUCASTA'S FANKE, WITH A LOOKING- 
 GLASSE IN IT. 1 ^ 
 
 i. 
 JASTBICH ! 2 thou featherd foole, and easie 
 
 prey, 
 That larger sailes to thy broad vessell 
 
 needst ; 
 
 Snakes through thy guttur-neck hisse all the day, 
 Then on thy iron messe at supper feedst. 3 
 
 ii. 
 O what a glorious transmigration 
 
 From this to so divine an edifice 
 Hast thou straight made ! heere 4 from a winged stone 
 
 Transform'd into a bird of paradice ! 
 
 1 This adaptation of the fan to the purposes of a mirror, now so 
 common, was, as we here are told, familiar to the ladies of Love- 
 lace's time. Mr. Fairholt, in his Costume in England, 1 846, p. 
 496, describes many various forms which were given at different 
 periods to this article of use and ornament ; but the present pas- 
 sage in Lucasta appears to have escaped his notice. 
 
 2 Ostrich. Lyly, in his Euphues, 1579, sig. c 4, has Estridge. 
 The fan here described was composed of ostrich-feathers set with 
 precious stones. 
 
 3 In allusion to the digestive powers of this bird. 
 
 4 Original reads neere. 
 
POEMS. 47 
 
 in. 
 Now doe thy plumes for hiew and luster vie 
 
 With th' arch of heav'n that triumphs or'e past wet, 
 And in a rich enamel'd pinion lye 
 
 With saphyres, amethists and opails set. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sometime they wing her side, 1 the strive to drown 
 The day's eyes piercing beames, whose am'rous heat 
 
 Sollicites still, 'till with this shield of downe 
 From her brave face his glowing fires are beat. 
 
 v. 
 But whilst a plumy curtaine she doth draw, 
 
 A chrystall mirror sparkles in thy breast, 
 In which her fresh aspect when as she saw, 
 
 And then her foe 2 retired to the west. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Deare engine, that oth' sun got'st me the day, 
 'Spite of his hot assaults mad'st him retreat ! 
 
 No wind (said she) dare with thee henceforth play 
 But mine own breath to coole the tyrants heat. 
 
 vn. 
 My lively shade thou ever shalt retaine 
 
 In thy inclosed feather -framed glasse, 
 And but unto our selves to all remaine 
 
 Invisible, thou feature of this face ! 
 
 1 The poet means that Lucasta, when she did not require her 
 fan for immediate use, wore it suspended at her side or from her 
 girdle. 
 
 The sun. 
 
 
48 POEMS. 
 
 vm. 
 So said, her sad swaine over-heard and cried : 
 
 Yee Gods ! for faith unstaind this a reward ! 
 Feathers and glasse t'outweigh my vertue trjed ! 
 
 Ah ! show their empty strength ! the gods accord. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Now fall'n the brittle favourite lyes and burst ! 
 
 Amas'd Lucasta weepes, repents and flies 
 To her Alexis, vowes her selfe acurst, 
 
 If hence she dresse her selfe but in his eyes. 
 
 LUCASTA, TAKING THE WATERS AT 
 TUNBEIDGE. 1 
 
 i. 
 
 EE happy floods ! that now must passe 
 The sacred conduicts of her wombe, 
 Smooth and transparent as your face, 
 When you are deafe, and. windes are 
 dumbe. 
 ii. 
 Be proud ! and if your waters be 
 
 Foul'd with a counterfeyted teare, 
 Or some false sigh hath stained yee, 
 Haste, and be purified there. 
 
 : 
 
 1 From this it might be conjectured, though the ground 
 doing so would be very slight, that Lucasta was a native of Kent 
 or of one of the adjoining shires ; but against this supposition we 
 have to set the circumstance that elsewhere this lady is called a 
 " northern star." 
 
POEMS. 49 
 
 HI. 
 
 And when her rosie gates y'have trac'd, 
 
 Continue yet some Orient wet, 
 'Till, turn'd into a gemme, y'are plac'd 
 
 Like diamonds with rubies set. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yee drops, that dew th' Arabian bowers, 
 Tell me, did you e're smell or view 
 
 On any leafe of all your flowers 
 Soe sweet a sent, so rich a hiew ? 
 
 v. 
 
 But a through th' Organs of her breath 
 
 You trickle wantonly, beware : 
 Ambitious Seas in their just death 
 
 As well as Lovers, must have share. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And see ! you boyle as well as I ; 
 
 You, that to coole her did aspire, 
 Now troubled and neglected lye, 
 
 Nor can your selves quench your owne lire. 
 
 vn. 
 Yet still be happy in the thought, 
 
 That in so small a time as this, 
 Through all the Heavens you were brought 
 
 Of Vertue, Honour, Love and Blisse. 
 
50 POEMS. 
 
 TO LUCASTA. 
 ODE LYRICK. 
 
 H Lucasta, why so bright ? 
 Spread with early streaked light ! 
 If still vailed from our sight, 
 What is't hut eternall night? 
 
 H. 
 
 Ah Lucasta, why so chaste ? 
 With that vigour, ripenes grac't, 
 Not to he by Man imbrac't 
 Makes that Eoyall coyne imbace't, 
 And this golden Orchard waste ! 
 
 in. 
 
 Ah Lucasta, why so great, 
 That thy crammed coffers sweat ? 
 Yet not owner of a seat 
 May shelter you from Natures heat, 
 And your earthly joyes compleat. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ah Lucasta, why so good ? 
 Blest with an unstained flood 
 Flowing both through soule and blood ; 
 If it be not understood, 
 'Tis a Diamond in mud. 
 
POEMS. . 51 
 
 v. 
 
 Lucasta ! stay ! why dost thou flye ? 
 Thou art not bright but to the eye, 
 Nor chaste but in the mariage-tye, 
 Nor great but in this treasurie, 
 Nor good but in that sanctitie. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Harder then the Orient stone, 
 
 Like an apparition, 
 
 Or as a pale shadow gone, 
 
 Dumbe and deafe she hence is flowne. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Then receive this equall dombe : 
 Virgins, strow no teare or bloome, 
 No one dig the Parian wombe ; 
 Eaise her marble heart i'th' roome, 
 And 'tis both her coarse and tombe. 
 
 LUCASTA PAYING HER OBSEQUIES TO THE CHAST 
 
 MEMORY OF MY DEAREST COSIN 
 
 MRS. BOWES BARNE[S]. 
 
 I. 
 EE ! what an undisturbed teare 
 
 She weepes for her last sleepe ; 
 But, viewing her, straight wak'd a Star, 
 She weepes that she did weepe. 
 
 1 This lady was probably the wife of a descendant of Sir 
 "Villiam Barnes, of Woolwich, whose only daughter and heir, 
 ^nne, married the poet's father, and brought him the seat in 
 tent. See Gents. Magazine for 1791, part ii. 1095. 
 
52 P OEMS. 
 
 n. 
 
 Griefe ne're before did tyranize 
 On th' honour of that brow, 
 And at the wheeles of her brave eyes 
 Was captive led til now. 
 
 ni. 
 Thus, for a saints apostacy 
 
 The unimagin'd woes 
 And sorrowes of the Hierarchy 
 
 None but an angel knowes. 
 
 IV. 
 
 ~r 
 
 Thus, for lost soules recovery 
 
 The clapping of all wings 
 And triumphs of this victory 
 
 None but an angel sings. 
 
 v. 
 So none but she knows to bemone 
 
 This equal virgins fate, 
 None but Lucasta can her crowne 
 
 Of glory celebrate. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then dart on me (Chast Light 1 ) one ray, 
 
 By which I may discry 
 Thy joy cleare through this cloudy day 
 
 To dresse my sorrow by. 
 
 1 A translation of Lucasta, or Lux Casta, for the sake of the 
 metre. 
 
 I 
 
POEMS. 53 
 
 UPON THE CURTAINS OF LUCASTA'S 
 PICTURE, IT WAS THUS 
 WROUGHT. 1 
 
 , stay that covetous hand ; first turn all eye, 
 All depth and minde ; then mystically spye 
 Her soul's faire picture, her faire soul's, in all 
 So truely copied from th' originall, 
 That you will sweare her body by this law 
 Is but its shadow, as this, its ; now draw. 
 
 
 
 LUCASTA'S WORLD. 
 EPODE. 
 
 1. 
 
 OLD as the breath of winds that blow " 
 To silver shot descending snow,- 
 
 Lucasta sigh't ; 2 when she did close - 
 
 The world in frosty chaines ! " 
 And then a frowne to rubies frose - 
 The blood boyl'd in our veines > 
 Yet cooled not the heat her sphere * 
 Of beauties first had kindled there. 
 
 1 Pictures used formerly to have curtains before them. It is 
 still done in some old houses. In Westward Hoe, 1607, act ii. 
 scene 3, there is an allusion to this practice : 
 
 " Sir Gosling. So draw those curtains, and let's see the pic- 
 tures under 'em." WEBSTER'S Works, ed. Hazlitt, i. 133. 
 
 2 Original reads sight. 
 
54 POEMS. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Then mov'd, and with a suddaine flame 
 Impatient to melt all againe, 
 
 Straight from her eyes she lightning hurl'd,- 
 
 And earth in ashes mournes ; 
 The sun his blaze denies the world,- 
 
 And in her luster hurnes \ 
 Yet warmed not the hearts, her nice 
 Disdaine had first congeal'd to ice,. 
 
 in. 
 
 And now her teares nor griev'd desire *- 
 Can quench this raging, pleasing fire j 
 Fate but one way allowes ; behold - 
 
 Her smiles' divinity ! > 
 They fanned this heat, and thaw'd that cold/ 
 
 So fram'd up a new sky. 
 Thus earth, from flames and ice repreev'd, 
 E're since hath in her sun-shine liv'd. 
 
 THE APOSTACY OF ONE, AND BUT 
 ONE LADY. fr 
 
 i. 
 HAT frantick errour I adore, 
 
 And am confirmed the earth turns round ; 
 Now satisfied o're and o're, 
 
 As rowling waves, so flowes the ground, 
 And as her neighbour reels the shore : 
 Finde such a woman says she loves ; 
 She's that fixt heav'n, which never moves. 
 
POEMS. 55 
 
 IT. 
 
 In marble, steele, or porphyrie, 
 
 Who carves or stampes his armes or face, 
 Lookes it by rust or storme must dye : 
 
 This womans love no time can raze, 
 Hardned like ice in the sun's eye, 
 
 Or your reflection in a glasse, 
 
 Which keepes possession, though you passe. 
 
 in. 
 
 We not behold a watches hand 
 
 To stir, nor plants or flowers to grow ; 
 
 Must we infer that this doth stand, 
 
 And therefore, that those do not blow ? 
 
 This she acts calmer, like Heav'ns brand, 
 The stedfast lightning, slow loves dart, 
 She kils, but ere we feele the smart. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh, she is constant as the winde, 
 
 That revels in an ev'nings aire ! 
 Certai^e as wayes unto the blinde, 
 
 More reall then her flatt'ries are ; 
 Gentle as chaines that honour binde, 
 
 More faithfull then an Hebrew Jew, 
 
 But as the divel not halfe so true. 
 
56 POEMS. 
 
 AMYNTOE 1 FROM BEYOND THE 
 
 SEA TO ALEXIS. 2 
 
 A DIALOGUE. 
 
 Avnyntor. 
 
 LEXIS ! ah Alexis ! can it be, 
 Though so much wet and drie 
 
 Doth drowne our eye, 
 Thou keep'st thy winged voice from me ? 
 
 Alexis. 
 
 Amyntor, a profounder sea, I feare, 
 Hath swallow'd me, where now 
 
 My armes do row, 
 I floate i'th' ocean of a teare. 
 
 Lucasta weepes, lest I look back and tread 
 
 Your Watry land againe. 
 Amyn. I'd through the raine ; 
 
 Such showrs are quickly over-spread. 
 
 Conceive how joy, after this short divorce, 
 Will circle her with beames, 
 
 When, like your streames, 
 You shall rowle back with kinder force, 
 
 Endymion Porter ? 2 Lovelace himself. 
 
POEMS. 57 
 
 And call the helping winds to vent your thought. 
 Alex. Amyntor ! Chloris ! where 
 
 Or in what sphere 
 Say, may that glorious fair be sought ? 
 
 Amyn. She's now the center of these armes e're blest, 
 Whence may she never move, 
 
 Till Time and Love 
 Haste to their everlasting rest. 
 
 Alex. Ah subtile swaine ! doth not my flame rise high 
 As yours, and burne as hot ? 
 
 Am not I shot 
 With the selfe same artillery ? 
 
 And can I breath without her air? Amyn. 
 
 Why, then, 
 
 From thy tempestuous earth, 
 WTiere blood and dearth 
 Raigne '"stead of kings, agen 
 
 Wafte thy selfe over, and lest storms from far 
 Arise, bring in our sight 
 
 The seas delight, 
 Lucasta, that bright northerne star. 
 
 Alex. But as we cut the rugged deepe, I feare 
 The green god stops his fell 
 
 Chariot of shell, 
 And smooths the maine to ravish her. 
 
58 POEMS. 
 
 Amyn. Oh no, the prince of waters' fires are done ; 
 He as his empire's old, 
 And rivers, cold ; 
 His queen now runs abed to th' sun ; 
 
 But all his treasure he shall ope' that day : 
 Tritons shall sound : his fleete 
 
 In silver meete, 
 And to her their rich offrings pay. 
 
 Alex. We flye, Amyntor, not amaz'd how sent 
 By water, earth, or aire : 
 Or if with her 
 By fire : ev'n there 
 I move in mine owne element. 
 
 CALLING LUCASTA FROM HER 
 
 RETIREMENT. 
 
 ODE. 
 
 i. 
 
 ROM the dire monument of thy hlack roome, 
 Wher now that vestal flame thou dost in- 
 
 tomhe, 
 As in the inmost cell of all earths wombe. 
 
 n. 
 
 Sacred Lucasta, like the pow'rfull ray 
 Of heavenly truth, passe this Cimmerian way, 
 Whilst all the standards of your beames display. 
 
POEMS. 59 
 
 m. 
 
 Arise and climbe our whitest, highest hill ; 
 There your sad thoughts with joy and wonder fill, 
 And see seas calme 1 as earth, earth as your will. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Behold ! how lightning like a taper flyes, 
 And guilds your chari't, but ashamed dyes, 
 Seeing it selfe out-gloried by your eyes. 
 
 v. 
 
 Threatning and boystrous tempests gently bow, 
 And to your steps part in soft paths, when now 
 There no where hangs a cloud, but on your brow. 
 
 VI. 
 
 No showrs but 'twixt your lids, nor gelid snow, 
 But what your whiter, chaster brest doth ow, 2 
 Whilst winds in chains colder for 3 sorrow blow. 
 
 vn. 
 
 Shrill trumpets doe only sound to eate, 
 Artillery hath loaden ev'ry dish with meate, 
 And drums at ev'ry health alarmes beate. 
 
 vm. 
 
 All things Lticasta, but Lueasta, call, 
 Trees borrow tongues, waters in accents fall, 
 The aire doth sing, and fire is 4 musicall. 
 
 1 Original has colme. 2 i. e. own. 3 Original reads your. 
 4 Original has fire's, but fire is is required by the metre, and 
 t is probably what the poet wrote. 
 
60 POEMS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Awake from the dead vault in which you dwell, 
 All's loyall here, except your thoughts rebell 
 Which, so let loose, often their gen'rall quell. 
 
 See ! she oheys ! By all obeyed thus, 
 
 No storms, heats, colds, no soules contentious, 
 
 Nor civill war is found ; I meane, to us. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Lovers and angels, though in heav'n they show, 
 And see the woes and discords here below, 
 "What they not feele, must not be said to know. 
 
 AMARANTHA. 
 A PASTOR ALL. 1 
 
 P with the jolly bird of light 
 Who sounds his third retreat to night ; 
 Faire Amarantha from her bed 
 Ashamed starts, and rises red 
 As the carnation-mantled morne, 
 Who now the blushing robe doth spurne, 
 And puts on angry gray, whilst she, 
 The envy of a deity, 
 Arayes her limbes, too rich indeed 
 To be inshrin'd in such a weed ; 
 
 1 The punctuation of this piece is in the original edition singu- 
 larly corrupt. I have found it necessary to amend it throughout. 
 
POEMS. 61 
 
 Yet lovely 'twas and strait, but fit ; 
 Not made for her, but she to it : 
 By nature it sate close and free, 
 As the just bark unto the tree : 
 Unlike Love's martyrs of the towne, 
 All day imprison'd in a gown, 
 Who, rackt in silke 'stead of a dresse, 
 Are cloathed in a frame or presse, 
 And with that liberty and room, 
 The dead expatiate in a tombe. 
 
 No cabinets with curious washes, 
 Bladders and perfumed plashes ; 
 No venome-temper'd water's here, 
 Mercury is banished this sphere : 
 Her payle's all this, in which wet glasse 
 She both doth cleanse and view her face. 
 
 Far hence, all Iberian smells, 
 Hot amulets, Pomander spells, 
 Fragrant gales, cool ay'r, the fresh 
 And naturall odour of her flesh, 
 Proclaim her sweet from th' wombe as morne. 
 Those colour'd things were made, not borne, 
 Which, fixt within their narrow straits, 
 Do looke like their own counterfeyts. 
 So like the Provance rose she walkt, 
 Flowerd with blush, with verdure stalkt ; 
 Th' officious wind her loose hayre curies, 
 The dewe her happy linnen purles, 
 But wets a tresse, which instantly 
 Sol with a crisping beame doth dry. 
 
 Into the garden is she come, 
 
62 POEMS. 
 
 Love and delight's Elisium ; 
 
 If ever earth show'd all her store, 
 
 View her discolourd budding floore ; 
 
 Here her glad eye she largely feedes, 
 
 And stands 'mongst them, as they 'mong weeds ; 
 
 The flowers in their best aray 
 
 As to their queen their tribute pay, 
 
 And freely to her lap proscribe 
 
 A daughter out of ev'ry tribe. 
 
 Thus as she moves, they all bequeath 
 
 At once the incense of their breath. 
 
 The noble Heliotropian 
 Now turnes to her, and knowes no sun. 
 
 And as her glorious face doth vary, 
 So opens loyall golden Mary 1 
 Who, if but glanced from her sight, 
 Straight shuts again, as it were night. 
 
 The violet (else lost ith' heap) 
 Doth spread fresh purple for each step, 
 With whose humility possest, 
 Sh' inthrones the Poore Girle 2 in her breast: 
 The July-flow'r 3 that hereto thriv'd, 
 Knowing her self no longer-liv'd, 
 But for one look of her upheaves, 
 Then 'stead of teares straight sheds her leaves. 
 
 Now the rich robed Tulip who, 
 Clad all in tissue close, doth woe 
 Her (sweet to th' eye but smelling sower). 
 
 1 The marigold. 2 A flower so called. 
 
 3 More commonly know as the gilliflower. 
 
POEMS. 63 
 
 She gathers to adorn her bower. 
 
 But the proud Hony-suckle spreads 
 Like a pavilion her heads, 
 Contemnes the wanting commonalty, 
 That but to two ends usefull be, 
 And to her lips thus aptly plac't, 
 With smell and hue presents her tast. 
 
 So all their due obedience pay, 
 Each thronging to be in her way : 
 Faire Amarantha with her eye 
 Thanks those that live, which else would dye : 
 The rest, in silken fetters bound, 
 By -crowning her are crown and crown'd. 1 
 
 And now the sun doth higher rise, 
 Our Flora to the meadow hies : 
 The poore distressed heifers low. 
 And as sh' approacheth gently bow, 
 Begging her charitable leasure 
 To strip them of their milkie treasure. 
 
 Out of the yeomanry oth' heard. 
 With grave aspect, and feet prepar'd, 
 A rev'rend lady-cow drawes neare, 
 Bids Amarantha welcome here ; 
 And from her privy purse lets fall 
 A pearle or two, which seeme[s] to call 
 This adorn'd adored fayry 
 To the banquet of her dayry. 
 
 Soft Amarantha weeps to see 
 'Mongst men such inhumanitie, 
 
 1 j. e. the lady gathers the flowers, and binds them in her hair 
 vith a silken fillet, making of them a kind of chaplet or crown. 
 
64 POEMS. 
 
 That those, who do receive in hay, 
 And pay in silver * twice a day, 
 Should by their cruell barb'rous theft 
 Be both of that and life bereft. 
 
 But 'tis decreed, when ere this dies, 
 That she shall fall a sacrifice 
 Unto the gods, since- those, that trace 
 Her stemme, show 'tis a god-like race, 
 Descending in an even line 
 From heifers and from steeres divine, 
 Making the honour'd extract full 
 In 16 and Europa's bull. 
 She was the largest goodliest beast, 
 That ever mead or altar blest ; 
 Hound [w]as her udder, and more white 
 Then is the Milkie Way in night ; 
 Her full broad eye did sparkle fire ; 
 Her breath was sweet as kind desire, 
 And in her beauteous crescent shone, 
 Bright as the argent-horned moone. 
 
 But see ! this whitenesse is obscure, 
 Cynthia spotted, she impure ; 
 Her body writheld, 2 and her eyes 
 
 1 i. e. silvery or white milk. 
 
 2 An uncommon word, signifying wrinkled. Bishop Hall seems 
 to be, with the exception of Lovelace, almost the only writer 
 who used it. Compare, however, the following passage : 
 
 " Like to a writhtVd Carion I have seen 
 (Instead of fifty, write her down fifteen) 
 Wearing her bought complexion in a box, 
 And ev'ry morn her closet-face unlocks." 
 
 Plantagenefs Tragicall Story, by T. W. 1649, p. 105. 
 
POEMS. 65 
 
 Departing lights at obsequies : 
 Her lowing hot to the fresh gale, 
 Her breath perfumes the field withall ; 
 To those two suns that ever shine, 
 To those plump parts she doth inshrine, 
 To th' hovering snow of either hand, 
 That love and cruelty command. 
 
 After the breakfast on her teat, 
 She takes her leave oth' mournfull neat 
 Who, by her toucht, now prizeth her l life, 
 Worthy alone the hollowed knife. 
 Into the neighbring wood she's gone, 
 
 Whose roofe defies the tell-tale Sunne, 
 
 And locks out ev'ry prying beame ; 
 Close by the lips of a cleare streame, 
 
 She sits and entertaines her eye 
 
 With the moist chrystall and the frye 2 
 
 With burnisht-silver mal'd, whose oares 3 
 
 Amazed still make to the shoares; 
 
 What need she other bait or charm, 
 
 What hook 4 or angle, but her arm? 
 
 The happy captive, gladly ta'n, 
 
 Sues ever to be slave in vaine, 
 
 Who instantly (confirm'd in's feares) 
 
 Hasts to his element of teares. 
 
 From hence her various windings roave 
 
 To a well-orderd stately grove ; 
 
 This is the pallace of the wood 
 
 1 Original has prize their. 3 Fins. 
 
 2 The fish with their silvery scales. * Original reads but look 
 
 
66 POEMS. 
 
 And court oth' Royall Oake, where stood 
 The whole nobility : the Pine, 
 Strait Ash, tall Firre, and wanton Vine ; 
 The proper Cedar, and the rest. 
 Here she her deeper senses hlest ; 
 Admires great Nature in this pile, 
 Floor'd with greene-velvet Camomile, 
 Garnisht with gems of unset fruit, 
 Supply'd still with a self recruit ; 
 Her bosom wrought with pretty eyes 
 Of never-planted Strawberries ; 
 Where th' winged musick of the ayre 
 Do richly feast, and for their fare, 
 Each evening in a silent shade, 
 Bestow a grateiull serenade. 
 
 Thus ev'n tyerd with delight, 
 Sated in soul and appetite ; 
 Full of the purple Plumme and Peare, . 
 The golden Apple, with the faire 
 Grape that mirth fain would have taught her, 
 And nuts, which squirrells cracking brought her ; 
 She softly layes her weary limbs, 
 Whilst gentle slumber now beginnes 
 To draw the curtaines of her eye ; 
 When straight awakend with a crie 
 And bitter groan, again reposes, 
 Again a deep sigh interposes. 
 And now she heares a trembling voyce : 
 Ah ! can there ought on earth rejoyce ! 
 Why weares she this gay livery, 
 Not black as her dark entrails be ? 
 
 
POEMS. 67 
 
 Can trees be green, and to the ay'r 
 Thus prostitute their flowing hajr ? 
 Why do they sprout, not witherd dy ? 
 Must each thing live, save wretched I ? 
 Can dayes triumph in hlew and red, 
 When both their light and life is fled ? 
 Fly Joy on wings of Popinjayes 
 To courts of fools, where 1 as your playes 
 Dye laught at and forgot ; whilst all 
 That's good mourns at this funerall. 
 Weep, all ye Graces, and you sweet 
 Quire, that at the hill inspir'd meet : 
 Love, put thy tapers out, that we 
 And th' world may seem as blind as thee ; 
 And be, since she is lost (ah wound !) 
 Not Heav'n it self by any found. 
 
 Now as a prisoner new cast, 2 
 Who sleepes in chaines that night, his last, 
 Next morn is wak't with a repreeve, 
 And from his trance, not dream bid live, 
 Wonders (his sence not having scope) 
 Who speaks, his friend or his false hope. 
 
 So Amarantha heard, but feare 
 Dares not yet trust her tempting care ; 
 And as againe her arms oth' ground 
 Spread pillows for her head, a sound 
 More dismall makes a swift divorce, 
 
 And starts her thus : Kage, rapine, force ! 
 
 Ye blew-flam'd daughters oth' abysse, 
 
 1 Original has there. * i. e. condemned. 
 
68 POEMS. 
 
 Bring all your snakes, here let them hisse ; 
 Let not a leaf its freshnesse keep ; 
 Blast all their roots, and as you creepe, 
 And leave behind your deadly slime, 
 Poyson the budding branch in's prime : 
 Wast the proud bowers of this grove, 
 That fiends may dwell in it, and move 
 As in their proper hell, whilst she 
 Above laments this tragedy : 
 Yet pities not our fate ; oh faire 
 Vow-breaker, now betroth'd to th' ay'r ! 
 Why by those lawes did we not die, 
 
 As live but one, Lucasta ! why 
 
 As he Lucasta nam'd, a groan 
 Strangles the fainting passing tone ; 
 But as she heard, Lucasta smiles, 
 Posses 1 her round ; she's slipt mean whiles 
 Behind the blind of a thick bush, 
 When, each word temp'ring with a blush, 
 She gently thus bespake : Sad swaine, 
 If mates in woe do ease our pain, 
 Here's one full of that antick grief, 
 Which stifled would for ever live, 
 But told, expires ; pray then, reveale 
 (To show our wound is half to heale), 
 What mortall nymph or deity 
 Bewail you thus ? Who ere you be, 
 
 1 This word does not appear to have any very exact meaning 
 See HalliwelPs Dictionary of Archaic Words, art. Posse, am 
 Worcester's Diet, ibid, &c. The context here requires to turi 
 sharply or quickly. 
 
POEMS. 69 
 
 The shepheard sigh't, 1 mj woes I crave 
 
 Smotherd in me, me 2 in my grave ; 
 
 Yet be in show or truth a saint, 
 
 Or fiend, breath anthemes, heare my plaint, 
 
 For her and thy breath's symphony, 
 
 Which now makes full the harmony 
 
 Above, and to whose voice the spheres 
 
 Listen, and call her musick theirs ; 
 
 This was I blest on earth with, so 
 
 As Druids amorous did grow, 
 
 Jealous of both : for as one day 
 
 This star, as yet but set in clay, 
 
 By an imbracing river lay, 
 
 They steept her in the hollowed brooke, 
 
 Which from her humane nature tooke, 
 
 And straight to heaven with winged feare, 3 
 
 Thus, ravisht with her, ravish her. 
 
 The nymph reply'd : This holy rape 
 Became the gods, whose obscure shape 
 They cloth'd with light, whilst ill you grieve 
 Your better life should ever live, 
 And weep that she, to whom you wish 
 What heav'n could give, has all its blisse. 
 Calling her angell here, yet be 
 Sad at this true divinity : 
 She's for the altar, not the skies, 
 
 1 Original has sight. 
 
 3 Original reads I. The meaning seems to be, " I crave that 
 iy woes may be smothered in me, and I may be smothered in 
 iy grave." 
 
 3 Reverence. 
 
70 POEMS. 
 
 Whom first you crowne, then sacrifice. 
 
 Fond man thus to a precipice 
 Aspires, till at the top his eyes 
 Have lost the safety of the plain, 
 Then begs of Fate the vales againe. 
 
 The now confounded shepheard cries : 
 Ye all-confounding destinies ! 
 How did you make that voice so sweet 
 Without that glorious form to it? 
 Thou sacred spirit of my deare, 
 Where e're thou hoverst o're us, hear ! 
 Imbark thee in the lawrell tree, 
 And a new Phebus follows thee, 
 Who, 'stead of all his burning rayes, 
 Will strive to catch thee with his layes ; 
 Or, if within the Orient Vine, 
 Thou art both deity and wine ; 
 But if thou takest the mirtle grove, 
 That Paphos is, thou, Queene of Love, 
 And I, thy swain who (else) must die, 
 By no beasts, but thy cruelty : 
 But you are rougher than the winde. 
 Are souls on earth then heav'n l more kind ? 
 Imprisoned in mortality 
 Xaicasta would have answered me. 
 Lucasta, Amarantha said, 
 Is she that virgin-star? a maid, 
 Except her prouder livery, 
 In beauty poore, and cheap as I ; 
 
 1 {. e. in heaven. 
 
POEMS. 71 
 
 Whose glory like a meteor shone, 
 
 Or aery apparition, 
 
 Admir'd a while, hut slighted known. 
 
 Fierce, as the chafed lyon hies, 
 He rowses him, and to her flies, 
 Thinking to answer with his speare 
 
 Now, as in warre intestine where, 
 Ith' mist of a black hattell, each 
 Layes at his next, then makes a breach 
 Through th' entrayles of another, whom 
 He sees nor knows whence he did come, 
 Guided alone by rage and th' drumme, 
 But stripping and impatient wild, 
 He finds too soon his onely child. 
 
 So our expiring desp'rate lover 
 Far'd when, amaz'd, he did discover 
 Lucasta in this nymph ; his sinne 
 Darts the accursed javelin 
 'Gainst his own breast, which she puts by 
 With a soft lip and gentle eye, 
 Then closes with him on the ground 
 And now her smiles have heal'd his wound. 
 Alexis too again is found ; 
 But not untill those heavy crimes 
 She hath kis'd off a thousand times, 
 Who not contented with this pain, 
 Doth threaten to offend again. 
 
 And now they gaze, and sigh, and weep, 
 Whilst each cheek doth the other's steep, 
 Whilst tongues, as exorcis'd, are calm ; 
 Onely the rhet'rick of the palm 
 
72 POEMS. 
 
 Prevailing pleads, untill at last 
 
 They[re] chain'd in one another fast. 
 
 Lucasta to him doth relate 
 
 Her various chance and diffring fate : 
 
 How chac'd hy Hydraphil, and tract 
 
 The numerous foe to Philanact, 
 
 Who whilst they for the same things fight, 
 
 As Bards decrees and Druids rite, 
 
 For safeguard of their proper joyes 
 
 And shepheards freedome, each destroyes 
 
 The glory of this Sicilie ; 
 
 Since seeking thus the remedie, 
 
 They fancy (building on false ground) 
 
 The means must them and it confound, 
 
 Yet are resolved to stand or fall, 
 
 And win a little, or lose all. 
 
 From this sad storm of fire and blood 
 She fled to this yet living wood ; 
 Where she 'mongst savage beasts doth find 
 Her self more safe then humane l kind. 
 
 Then she relates, how Cselia 2 
 The lady here strippes her array, 
 And girdles her in home-spunne bayes, 
 Then makes her conversant in layes 
 Of birds, and swaines more innocent, 
 That kenne not guile [n]or courtship ment. 
 Now walks she to her bow'r to dine 
 
 1 i. e. than among human kind. 
 
 2 It may be presumed that Lucasta had adopted the name of 
 Gzlia during her sylvan retreat. 
 
POEMS. 73 
 
 Under a shade of Eglantine, 
 
 Upon a dish of Natures cheere 
 
 Which both grew, drest and serv'd up there : 
 
 That done, she feasts her smell with po'ses 
 
 Pluckt from the damask cloath of Koses. 
 
 "Which there continually doth stay, 
 
 And onely frost can take away ; 
 
 Then wagers which hath most content 
 
 Her eye, eare, hand, her gust or sent. 
 
 Intranc't Alexis sees and heares, 
 As walking ahove all the spheres : 
 Knows and adores this, and is wilde, 1 
 Untill with her he live thus milde. 2 
 So that, which to his thoughts he meant 
 For losse of her a punishment, 
 His armes hung up and his sword broke, 
 His ensignes folded, he betook 
 Himself unto the humble crook. 
 And for a full reward of all, 
 She now doth him her shepheard call, 
 And in a see of flow'rs install : 
 Then gives her faith immediately, 
 Which he returns religiously ; 
 Both vowing in her peaceful! cave 
 To make their bridall-bed and grave. 
 
 But the true joy this pair conceiv'd, 
 Each from the other first bereav'd, 
 And then found, after such alarmes, 
 Fast-pinion'd in each other's armes, 
 
 1 Impatient. 2 Tranquil or secluded. 
 
74 POEMS. 
 
 Ye panting virgins, that do meet 
 Your loves within their winding sheet, 
 Breathing and constant still ev'n there ; 
 Or souls their bodies in yon' sphere, 
 Or angels, men return'd from hell 
 And separated inindes can tell. 
 
 TO ELLINDA, 
 
 THAT LATELY I HAVE NOT WBITTEN. 
 I. 
 
 F in me anger, or disdaine 
 In you, or both, made me refraine 
 From th' noble intercourse of verse, 
 That only vertuous thoughts rehearse ; 
 Then, chaste Ellinda, might you feare 
 The sacred vowes that I did sweare. 
 
 ii. 
 
 But if alone some pious thought 
 Me to an inward saduesse brought, 
 Thinking to breath your soule too welle, 
 My tongue was charmed with that spell ; 
 And left it (since there was no roome 
 To voyce your worth enough) strooke dumbe. 
 
 in. 
 
 So then this silence doth reveal 
 No thought of negligence, but zeal : 
 For, as in adoration, 
 This is love's true devotion ; 
 
 Children and fools the words repeat, 
 But anch'rites pray in tears and sweat. 
 
POEMS. 75 
 
 ELLIKDA'S GLOVE. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 I. 
 
 HOU snowy farme with thy five tenements ! 1 
 Tell thy white mistris here was one, 
 That call'd to pay his dayly rents ; 
 But she a-gatheringjlowr's and hearts is 
 
 gone, 
 And thou left voyd to rude possession, 
 
 ii. 
 But grieve not, pretty Ermin cahinet, 
 
 Thy alahaster lady will come home ; 
 
 If not, what tenant can there fit 
 The slender turnings of thy narrow roome, 
 But must ejected he by his owne dombe ? 2 
 
 in. 
 
 Then give me leave to leave my rent with thee : 
 Five kisses, one unto a place : 
 For though the lute's too high for me, 
 Yet servants, knowing minikin 3 nor base, 
 Are still allow'd to fiddle with the case. 
 
 1 i. e. the white glove of the lady with its five fingers. 
 
 2 Doom. 
 
 3 A description of musical pin attached to a lute. It was only 
 brought into play by accomplished musicians. In the address of 
 " The Country 'Suiter to his Love," printed in Cotgrave's Wits 
 Interpreter, 1662, p. 119, the man says: 
 
 " Fair Wench ! I cannot court thy sprightly eyes 
 With a base-viol plac'd betwixt my thighs, 
 
76 POEMS. 
 
 1 
 
 BEING TREATED. 
 TO ELLINDA. 
 
 OR cherries plenty, and for corans 
 Enough for fifty, were there more on's ; 
 For elles of beere, 1 flutes 2 of canary, 
 That well did wash downe pasties -Mary; 3 
 
 I cannot lisp, nor to a fiddle sing, 
 Nor run upon a high-strecht minikin." 
 In Middleton's Familie of Love, 1608 (Works by Dyce,ii. 127) 
 there is the following passage : 
 
 " Gudgeon. Ay, and to all that forswear marriage, and can be 
 content with other men's wives. 
 
 Gerardine. Of which consort you two are grounds ; one touches 
 the bass, and the other tickles the minikin." 
 
 1 This expression has reference to the old practice of drinking 
 beer and wine out of very high glasses, with divisions marked on 
 them. A yard of ale is even now a well understood term : nor is 
 the custom itself out of date, since in some parts of the country 
 one is asked to take, not a glass, but a yard. The ell was of 
 course, strictly speaking, a larger measure than a yard ; but it was 
 often employed as a mere synonyme or equivalent. Thus, in 
 Maroccus Extaticus, 1595, Bankes says: "Measure, Marocco, 
 nay, nay, they that take up commodities make no difference for 
 measure between a Flemish elle and an English yard." 
 
 2 In the new edition of Nares (1859), this very passage is 
 quoted to illustrate the meaning of the word, which is defined 
 rather vaguely to be a cask. Obviously the word signifies some- 
 thing of the kind, but the explanation does not at all satisfy me. 
 I suspect that a flute of canary was so called from the cask hav- 
 ing several vent-holes, in the same way that the French call a 
 lamprey fleute d'Aleman from the fish having little holes in the 
 upper part of its body. 
 
 3 Forsyth, in his Antiquary's Portfolio, 1825, mentions certain 
 
POEMS. 77 
 
 For peason, chickens, sawces high, 
 Pig, and the widdow-venson-pye ; * 
 With certaine promise (to your brother) 
 Of the virginity of another, 
 "Where it is thought I too may peepe in 
 With knuckles far as any deepe in ; 2 
 
 " glutton -feasts," -which used formerly to be celebrated period- 
 ically in honour of the Virgin ; perhaps the pasties used on these 
 occasions were thence christened pasties-Mary. 
 
 1 Venison pies or pasties were the most favourite dish in this 
 country in former times; innumerable illustrations might be fur- 
 nished of the high esteem in which this description of viand was 
 held by our ancestors, who regarded it as a thoroughly English 
 luxury. The anonymous author of Horce Sulseciva, 1620, p. 38 
 (this volume is supposed to have been written bv Giles Brydges, 
 Lord Chandos), describes an affected Englishman who has been 
 travelling on the Continent, as " sweating at the sight of a pasty 
 of venison," and as " swearing that the only delicacies be mush- 
 rooms, or caviare, or snayles." 
 
 " The full-cram'd dishes made the table crack, 
 Gammons of bacon, brawn, and what was chief, 
 King in all feasts, a tall Sir Loyne of JSeef, 
 Fat venison pasties smoaking, 'tis no fable, 
 Swans in their broath came swimming to the table." 
 Poems of BEN JOHNSON Junior, by W. S. 1672, p. 3. 
 
 2 An allusion to the scantiness of forks. " And when your 
 justice of peace is knuckle-deep in goose, you may without dis- 
 paragement to your blood, though you have a lady to your mo- 
 ther, fall very manfully to your woodcocks." DECKEB'S Guls 
 Horn Book, 1609, ed. Nott, p. 121. 
 
 " Hodge. Forks ! what be they? 
 Mar. The laudable use of forks, 
 
 Brought into custom here, as they are in Italy, 
 
 To the sparing of napkins " 
 
 JONSON'S The Devil is an Ass, act v. scene 4. 
 
78 POEMS. 
 
 For glasses, heads, hands, bellies full 
 Of wine, and loyne right- worshipfull ; l 
 Whether all of, or more behind a 
 Thankes freest, freshest, faire Ellinda. 
 Thankes for my visit not disdaining, 
 Or at the least thankes for your feigning ; 
 For if your mercy doore were lockt-well, 
 I should be justly soundly knockt-well ; 
 Cause that in dogrell I did mutter 
 Not one rhinae to you from dam-Rotter. 2 
 
 Next beg I to present my duty 
 To pregnant sister in prime beauty, 
 Whom well I deeme (e're few months elder) 
 Will take out Hans from pretty Kelder, 
 And to the sweetly fayre Mabella, 
 A match that vies with Arabella ; 
 In each respect but the misfortune, 
 Fortune, Fate, I thee importune. 
 
 Nor must I passe the lovely Alice, 
 Whose health I'd quaffe in golden chalice ; 
 But since that Fate hath made me neuter, 
 I only can in beaker pewter : 
 
 
 " Lovell. Your hand, good sir. 
 
 Greedy. This is a lord, and some think this a favour ; 
 
 But I had rather have my hand in my dumpling." 
 MASSINGER'S New Way to Pay Old Debts, 1633. 
 
 1 The sirloin of beef. 
 
 2 Rotterdam. 
 
I POEMS. 79 
 
 But who'd forget, or yet left un-sung 
 The doughty acts of George the yong-son ? 
 Who yesterday to save his sister 
 Had slaine the snake, had he not mist her : 
 But I shall leave him, 'till a nag on 
 He gets to prosecute the dragon ; 
 And then with helpe of sun and taper, 
 Fill with his deeds twelve reames of paper, 
 That Amadis, 1 Sir Guy, and Topaz 
 With his fleet neigher shall keep no-pace. 
 But now to close all I must switch-hard, 
 [Your] servant ever ; 
 
 LOVELACE RICHAED. 
 
 TO ELLINDA. 
 
 VPOX HIS LATE RECOVER 
 
 A PARADOX. 
 
 I. 
 
 OW I grieve that I am well ! 
 
 All my health was in my sicknes, 
 Go then, Destiny, and tell, 
 
 Very death is in this quicknes. 
 
 1 Amadis de Gaule. The translation of this romance by An- 
 thony Munday and two or three others, whose assistance he ob- 
 tained, made it popular in England, although, perhaps with the 
 jxception of the portion executed by Munday himself, the per- 
 bnnance is beneath criticism. 
 
80 POEMS. 
 
 n. 
 
 Such a fate rules over me, 
 
 That I glory when I languish, 
 
 And do blesse the remedy, 
 
 That doth feed, not quench my anguish. 
 
 in. 
 
 'Twas a gentle warmth that ceas'd 
 
 In the vizard of a feavor ; 
 But I feare now I am eas'd 
 
 All the flames, since I must leave her. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Joyes, though witherd, circled me, 
 When unto her voice inured 
 
 Like those who, by harmony, 
 Only can be throughly cured. 
 
 v. 
 
 Sweet, sure, was that malady, 
 
 Whilst the pleasant angel hover'd, 
 
 Which ceasing they are all, as I, 
 Angry that they are recover'd. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And as men in hospitals, 
 
 That are maim'd, are lodg'd and dined ; 
 But when once their danger fals, 
 
 Ah th' are healed to be pined I 
 
POEMS. 81 
 
 vn. 
 Fainting so, I might before 
 
 Sometime have the leave to hand her, 
 But lusty, am beat out of dore, 
 
 And for Love compell'd to wander. 
 
 TO CHLOE, f\ 
 
 COURTING HER FOR HIS FRIEND. 
 
 i. 
 
 HLOE, behold ! againe I bowe : 
 Againe possest, againe I woe ; 
 From my heat hath taken fire 
 Damas, noble youth, and fries, 1 
 Gazing with one of mine eyes, 
 Damas, halfe of me expires : 
 Chloe, behold ! Our fate's the same. 
 Or make me cinders too, or quench his flame. 
 
 1 This is not nnfrequently used in old writers in the sense of 
 mm: 
 
 "But Lucilla, who now began to frie in the flames of love, all 
 he company being departed," &c. LYLT'S Euphues, 1579, sig. 
 v. verso. 
 
 " My lady-mistresse cast an anourous eye 
 Upon my forme, which her affections drew, 
 Shee was Love's martyr, and in flames did frye." 
 
 Egypt's Favorite. The Historic of Joseph. By 
 Sir F. Hubert,! 631, sig. C. 
 
 Gr 
 
 
82 POEMS. 
 
 ii. 
 
 I'd not be King, unlesse there sate 
 Lesse lords that shar'd with me in state 
 Who, by their cheaper coronets, know, 
 What glories from my diadem flow : 
 Its use and rate 1 values the gem : 
 Pearles in their shells have no esteem ; 
 And, I being sun within thy sphere, 
 'Tis my chiefe beauty thinner lights shine there. 
 
 in. 
 
 The Us'rer heaps unto his store 
 
 By seeing others praise it more ; 
 
 Who not for gaine or want doth covet, 
 But, 'cause another loves, doth love it: 
 Thus gluttons cloy'd afresh invite 
 Their gusts from some new appetite ; 
 
 And after cloth remov'd, and meate, " 
 
 Fall too againe by seeing others eate. 
 
 I 
 
 GEATI ANA DAUNCING AND SINGING.' 
 
 i. 
 
 EE ! with what constant motion 
 Even and glorious, as the sunne, 
 
 Gratiana steeres that noble frame, 
 Soft as her breast, sweet as her voyce, 
 That gave each winding law and poyze, 
 And swifter then the wings of Fame. 
 
 The estimation in which it is held, its marketable -worth. 
 
POEMS. 83 
 
 H. 
 
 She beat the happy pavement 
 By such a starre-made firmament, 
 
 Which now no more the roofe envies ; 
 But swells up high with Atlas ev'n, 
 Bearing the brighter, nobler Heav'n, 
 
 And in her,' all the Dieties. 
 
 HI. 
 
 Each step trod out a lovers thought 
 And the ambitious hopes he brought, 
 
 Chain'd to her brave feet with such arts, 
 Such sweet command and gentle awe, 
 As when she ceas'd, we sighing saw 
 
 The floore lay pav'd with broken hearts. 
 
 IV. 
 
 So did she move : so did she sing : 
 Like the harmonious spheres that bring 
 
 Unto their rounds their musick's ayd ; 
 Which she performed such a way, 
 As all th' inamour'd world will say : 
 The Graces daunced, and Apollo play'd. 
 
84 POEMS. 
 
 AMYNTOE'S GEOVE, 1 
 
 HIS CHLORIS, ARIGO, 2 AND GRATIANA. 
 
 AN ELOGIE. 
 
 T was 3 Amyntor's Grove, that Chloris 
 For ever ecchoes, and her glories ; 
 Chloris, the gentlest sheapherdesse, 
 That ever lawnes and lambes did blesse ; 
 Her breath, like to the whispering winde, 
 Was calme as thought, sweet as her minde ; 
 Her lips like coral gates kept in 
 The perfume and 4 the pearle within ; 
 
 1 In the MS. copy this poem exhibits considerable variations, 
 and is entitled " Gratiana's Eulogy." 
 
 2 Arigo or Arrigo is the Venetian form of Henrico. I have no 
 means of identifying Chloris or Gratiana; but Amyntor was pro- 
 bably, as I have already suggested, Endymion Porter, and Arigo 
 was unquestionably no other than Henry Jermyn, or Jarmin, 
 who, though no poet, was, like his friend Porter, a liberal and 
 discerning patron of men of letters. 
 
 " Yet when thy noble choice appear'd, that by 
 Their combat first prepar'd thy victory : 
 Endymion and Arigo, who delight 
 In numbers " 
 DAVENANT'S Madagascar, 1638 (Works, 1673, p. 212). ; 
 See also p. 247 of Davenant's Works. 
 
 Jermyn's name is associated with that of Porter in the noblesl 
 dedication in our language, that to Davenanfs Poems, 1638 
 12mo. " If these poems live," &c. 
 
 3 This and the five next lines are not in MS. which opens witl 
 " Her lips," &c. 
 
 4 So original; MS. reads of. 
 
 
POEMS. 85 
 
 Her eyes a double-flaming torch 
 That alwayes shine, and never scorch ; 
 Her 1 selfe the Heav'n in which did meet 
 The all of bright, of faire and sweet. 
 
 Here was I brought with that delight 
 That seperated soules take flight ; 
 And when my reason call'd my sence 
 Back somewhat from this excellence, 
 That I could see, I did begin 
 T' observe the curious ordering 
 Of every roome, where 'ts hard to know, 
 Which most excels in sent or show. 
 Arabian gummes do breathe here forth, 
 And th' East's come over to the North ; 
 The windes have brought their hyre 2 of sweet 
 To see Amyntor Chloris greet ; 
 Balme and nard, and each perfume, 
 To blesse this payre, 3 chafe and consume ; 
 And th' Phoenix, see ! already fries ! 
 Her neast a fire in Chloris 4 eyes ! 
 
 1 This and the next thirteen lines are not in MS. 
 
 2 i. e. tribute. 
 3/aire MS. 
 
 4 her faire MS. The story of the phoenix was very popular* 
 and the allusions to it in the early writers are almost innumerable. 
 
 " My labour did to greater things aspire, 
 To find a Phoenix melted in the fire, 
 Out of whose ashes should spring up to birth 
 A friend" 
 
 .Poems O/BEN JOHNSON jun., by W. S., 1672, p. 18. 
 
 
86 POEMS. 
 
 Next 1 the great and powerful hand 
 Beckens my thoughts unto a stand 
 Of Titian, Raphael, Georgone 
 Whose art even Nature hath out-done ; 
 For if weake Nature only can 
 Intend, not perfect, what is man, 
 These certainely we must prefer, 
 Who mended what she wrought, and her ; 
 And sure the shadowes of those rare 
 And kind incomparable fayre 
 Are livelier, nobler company, 
 Then if they could or speake, or see : 
 For these 2 I aske without a tush, 
 Can kisse or touch without a blush, 
 And we are taught that substance is, 
 If uninjoy'd, but th' 3 shade of blisse. 
 
 Now every saint cleerly divine, 
 Is clos'd so in her severall shrine ; 
 The gems so rarely, richly set, 
 For them wee love the cabinet ; 
 So intricately plac't withall, 
 As if th' imbrordered the wall, 
 So that the pictures seem'd to be 
 But one continued tapistrie. 4 
 
 After this travell of mine eyes 
 We sate, and pitied Dieties ; 
 
 1 This and the next eleven lines are not in MS. 
 - The MS. reads she. 
 
 3 The MS. reads for but. th' " the." 
 
 4 In the houses of such as could afford the expense, the wall 
 of rooms were formerly lined with tapestry instead of paper. 
 
POEMS. 87 
 
 "Wee bound our loose hayre with the vine, 
 
 The poppy, and the eglantine ; 
 
 One swell'd an oriental bowle 
 
 Full, as a grateful, loyal soule 
 
 To Chloris ! Chloris ! Heare, oh, heare ! 
 
 'Tis pledg'd above in ev'ry sphere. 
 
 Now streight the Indians richest prize 
 Is kindled in 1 glad sacrifice ; 
 Cloudes are sent up on wings of thyme, 
 Amber, pomgranates, jessemine, 
 And through our earthen conduicts sore 
 Higher then altars fum'd before. 
 
 So drencht we our oppressing cares, 
 And choakt the wide jawes of our feares. 
 Whilst ravisht thus we did devise, 
 If this were not a Paradice 
 In all, except these harmlesse sins : 
 
 flew in two cherubins, 
 Cleare as the skye from whence they came, 
 And brighter than the sacred flame ; 
 The boy adorn'd with modesty, 
 Yet armed so with majesty, 
 That if the Thunderer againe 
 His eagle sends, she stoops in vaine. 2 
 Besides his innocence he tooke 
 A sword and casket, and did looke 
 Like Love in armes ; he wrote but five, 
 Yet spake eighteene : each grace did strive, 
 
 1 So MS. ; original has a. 
 
 2 An allusion to the fable of Jupiter and Ganymede. 
 
88 POEMS. 
 
 And twenty Cupids thronged forth, 
 Who first should shew his prettier worth. 
 But oh, the Nymph ! Did you ere know 
 Carnation mingled with snow ? l 
 Or have you seene the lightning shrowd, 
 And straight hreake through th' opposing cloud ? 
 So ran her blood ; such was its hue ; 
 So through her vayle her bright haire flew, 
 And yet its glory did appeare 
 But thinne, because her eyes were neere. 
 Blooming boy, and blossoming mayd, 
 May your faire sprigges be neere betrayd 
 To 2 eating worme or fouler storme ; 
 No serpent lurke to do them harme ; 
 No sharpe frost cut, no North-winde teare, 
 The verdure of that fragrant hayre ; 
 But 3 may the sun and gentle weather, 
 When you are both growne ripe together, 
 Load you with fruit, such as your Father 
 From you with all the joyes doth gather : 
 And may you, when one branch is dead, 
 Graft such another in its stead, 
 Lasting thus ever in your prime, 
 'Till th' sithe is snatcht away from Time. 4 
 
 1 Mix'd with droppinge snow MS. 
 
 2 This and the succeeding line are not in MS. 
 
 3 This and the six following lines are not in MS. 
 
 4 Here we have a figure, which reminds us of Jonson's famous 
 lines on the Countess of Pembroke ; but certainly in this instance 
 the palm of superiority is due to Lovelace, whose conception of 
 Time having his scythe snatched from him is bolder and finer 
 than that of the earlier and greater poet. 
 
POEMS. 89 
 
 THE SCKUTINIE. 
 SONG. 
 
 SET BY MB. THOMAS CHAELES. 1 
 I. 
 
 HY shouldst thou 2 sweare I am forsworn, 
 
 Since thine I vow'd to be ? 
 Lady, it is already Morn, 
 And 'twas last night I swore to thee 
 That fond impossibility. 
 
 n. 
 Have I not lov'd thee much and long, 
 
 A tedious twelve moneths 3 space? 
 I should 4 all other beauties wrong, 
 
 And rob thee of a new imbrace ; 
 
 Should 5 I still dote upon thy face. 
 
 m. 
 
 Not but all joy in thy browne haire 
 In 6 others may be found ; 
 
 But I must search the black and faire, 
 Like skilfulle minerallists that sound 
 For treasure in un-plow'd-up 7 ground. 
 
 1 This poem appears in Wits Interpreter, by John Cotgrave, 
 ed. 1662, p. 214, under the title of " On his Mistresse, who un- 
 justly taxed him of leaving her off." 
 
 8 So Cotgrave. Lucasta reads should you. 
 
 3 So Cotgrave. This is preferable to Iiours, the reading in 
 Lucasta. 
 
 4 So Cotgrave. Lucasta reads must. 
 
 5 So Cotgrave. Lucasta has could. 
 
 6 So Cotgrave. Lucasta reads By. 
 
 7 tfofoWcfen Cotgrave. 
 
90 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then if, when I have lov'd my 1 round, 
 Thou prov'st the pleasant she ; 
 
 With spoyles 2 of meaner beauties crown'd, 
 I laden will returne to thee, 
 Ev'n sated with varietie. 
 
 PKINCESSE LOYSA 3 DBAWING. 
 
 SAW a little Diety, 
 
 Minerva in epitomy, 
 
 Whom Venus, at first hlush, surpris'd, 
 Tooke for her winged wagge disguis'd. 
 But viewing then, whereas she made 
 Not a distrest, hut lively shade 
 Of Eccho whom he had hetrayd, 
 Now wanton, and ith' coole oth' Sunne 
 With her delight a hunting gone, 
 And thousands more, whom he had slaine ; 
 To live and love, helov'd againe : 
 Ah ! this is true divinity ! 
 I will un-God that toye ! cri'd she ; 
 Then markt she Syrinx running fast 
 To Pan's imhraces, with the haste 
 Shee fled him once, whose reede-pipe rent 
 He finds now a new Instrument. 
 
 1 thee Cotgrave. 
 
 2 In spoil Cotgrave. 
 
 3 Probably the second daughter of Frederic and Elizabeth o 
 Bohemia, b. 1622. See TOWNEND'S Descendants of the Stuarts 
 1858, p. 7. 
 
POEMS. 91 
 
 Theseus returned invokes the Ayre 
 And windes, then wafts his faire ; 
 Whilst Ariadne ravish't stood 
 Half in his armes, halfe in the flood. 
 
 Proud Anaxerete doth fall 
 At Iphis feete, who smiles at 1 all : 
 And he (whilst she his curies doth deck) 
 Hangs no where now, but on her neck. 
 Here Phoebus with a heame untombes 
 Long-hid Leucothoe, and doomes 
 Her father there ; Daphne the faire 
 Knowes now no bayes but round her haire ; 
 And to Apollo and his Sons, 
 Who pay him their due Orisons, 
 Bequeaths her lawrell-robe, that flame 
 Contemnes, Thunder and evill Fame. 
 
 There kneePd Adonis fresh as spring, 
 Gay as his youth, now offering 
 Herself those joyes with voice and hand, 
 Which first he could not understand. 
 
 Transfixed Venus stood amas'd, 
 Full of the Boy and Love, she gaz'd, 
 And in imbraces seemed more 
 Senceless and colde then he before. 
 Uselesse Childe ! In vaine (said she) 
 You beare that fond artillerie ; 
 See heere a pow'r above the slow 
 Weake execution of thy bow. 
 
 So said, she riv'd the wood in two, 
 Unedged all his arrowes too, 
 
 1 Original has of. 
 
92 POEMS. 
 
 And with the string their feathers hound 
 To that part, whence we have our wound. 
 See, see ! the darts by which we burn'd 
 Are bright Loysa's pencills turn'd, 
 With which she now enliveth more 
 Beauties, than they destroy'd before. 
 
 A 
 
 FORSAKEN LADY TO HER FALSE SERVANT 
 
 THAT IS DISDAINED BY HIS NEW 
 
 MISTKISS. 1 
 
 'EKE it that you so shun me, 'cause you wish 
 (Cruels't) a fellow in your wretchednesse, 
 Or that you take some small ease in your 
 
 owne 
 
 Torments, to heare another sadly groane, 
 I were most happy in my paines, to be 
 So truely blest, to be so curst by thee : 
 But oh ! my cries to that doe rather adde, 
 Of which too much already thou hast had, 
 And thou art gladly sad to heare my moane ; 
 Yet sadly hearst me with derision. 
 
 Thou most unjust, that really dost know, 
 And feelst thyselfe the flames I burne in. Oh ! 
 How can you beg to be set loose from that 
 Consuming stake you binde another at ? 
 
 1 Carew (Poems, ed. 1651, p. 53) has some lines, entitled, " In 
 the person of a Lady to her Inconstant Servant," which are of 
 nearly similar purport to Lovelace's poem, but are both shorter 
 and better. 
 
POEMS. 93 
 
 Uncharitablest both wayes, to denie 
 That pity me, for which yourself must dye, 
 To love not her loves you, yet know the pain 
 What 'tis to love, and not be lov'd againe. 
 
 Flye on, flye on, swift Racer, untill she 
 Whom thou of all ador'st shall learne of thee 
 The pace t'outfly thee, and shall teach thee groan, 
 What terrour 'tis t'outgo and be outgon. 
 
 Nor yet looke back, nor yet must we 
 Run then like spoakes in wheeles eternally, 
 And never overtake ? Be dragg'd on still 
 By the weake cordage of your untwin'd will 
 Round without hope of rest ? No, I will turne, 
 And with my goodnes boldly meete your scorne ; 
 My goodnesse which Heav'n pardon, and that fate 
 Made you hate love, and fall in love with hate. 
 
 But I am chang'd ! Bright reason, that did give 
 My soule a noble quicknes, made me live 
 One breath yet longer, and to will, and see 
 Hath reacht me pow'r to scorne as well as thee : 
 That thou, which proudly tramplest on my grave, 
 Thyselfe mightst fall, conquer'd my double slave : 
 That thou mightst, sinking in thy triumphs, moan, 
 And I triumph in my destruction. 
 
 Hayle, holy cold ! chaste temper, hayle ! the fire 
 Rav'd * o're my purer thoughts I feel t' expire, 
 
 1 Rav'd seems here to be equivalent to reav'd, or bereav'd. 
 Perhaps the correct reading may be " reav'd." See Worcester's 
 Dictionary, art. RAVE, where Menage's supposition of affinity 
 Between rave and bereave is perhaps a little too slightingly treated. 
 
94 POEMS. 
 
 And I am candied ice. Yee pow'rs ! if e're 
 
 I shall be forc't unto my sepulcher, 
 
 Or violently hurPd into my urne, 
 
 Oh. make me choose rather to freeze than burne. 
 
 j 
 
 THE GKASSEHOPPER. 
 
 TO MY NOBLE FRIEND, MB. CHARLES COTTON. 1 
 ODE. 
 
 H thou, that swing'st upon the waving 
 
 Of some well-filled oaten beard, 3 
 Drunk ev'ry night with a delicious teare * 
 Dropt thee from Heav'n, where 
 th'art reard. 
 
 1 Charles Cotton the elder, father of the poef He died 
 1658. This poem is extracted in Censura Literaria, ix. 352, 
 
 a favourable specimen of Lovelace's poetical genius. The texi 
 is manifestly corrupt, but I have endeavoured to amend 
 In Elton's Specimens of Classic Poets, 1814, i. 148, is a trans 
 lation of Anacreon's Address to the Cicada, or Tree-1 
 (Lovelace's grasshopper?), which is superior to the mi 
 poem, being less prolix, and more natural in its manner. In 
 Lovelace's longer pieces there are too many obscure and fe< 
 conceits, and too many evidences of a leaning to the metaphyi 
 and antithetical school of poetry. 
 
 2 Original has haire. 
 
 3 i. e. a beard of oats. 
 
 4 Meleager's invocation to the tree-locust commences thus 
 Elton's translation : 
 
 " Oh shrill- voiced insect ! that with dew-drops sweet 
 
 Inebriate " 
 
 See also Cowley's Anacreontiques, No. X. The Grasshopper. 
 
POEMS. 95 
 
 n. 
 The joyes of earth and ayre are thine intire, 
 
 That with thy feet and wings dost hop and flye ; 
 And when thy poppy workes, thou dost retire 
 
 To thy carv'd acorn-bed to lye. 
 
 m. 
 Up with the day, the Sun thou welcomst then, 
 
 Sportst in the guilt plats 1 of his beames, 
 And all these merry dayes mak'st merry men, 2 
 
 Thy selfe, and melancholy streames. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But ah, the sickle ! golden eares are cropt ; 
 
 Geres and Bacchus bid good night ; 
 Sharpe frosty fingers all your flowrs have topt, 
 
 And what sithes spar'd, winds shave off quite. 
 
 v. 
 
 Poore verdant foole ! and now green ice, thy joys 
 Large and as lasting as thy peirch 3 of grasse, 
 
 1 i.e. horizontal lines tinged with gold. See HalliwelPs Glos- 
 sary of Archaic Words, 1860, art. PLAT (seventh and eighth 
 meaning). The late editors of Nares cite this passage from 
 Lucasta as an illustration of guilt-plats, which they define to be 
 "plots of gold." This definition, unsupported by any other 
 evidence, is not very satisfactory, and certainly it has no obvious 
 application here. 
 
 2 Randolph says : 
 
 a toiling ants perchance delight to hear 
 
 The summer musique of the gras-hopper." 
 
 Poems, 1640, p. 90. 
 
 It is a question, perhaps, whether Lovelace intended by the 
 grasshopper the cicada or the locusta. See Sir Thomas Browne's 
 Inquiries into Vulgar Errors (Works, by Wilkins, 1836, iii. 93). 
 Perch. 
 
96 POEMS. 
 
 Bid us lay in 'gainst winter raine, and poize 
 Their flouds with an o'erflowing glasse. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thou best of men and friends ? we will create 
 A genuine summer in each others breast ; 
 
 And spite of this cold Time and frosen Fate, 
 Thaw us a warme seate to our rest. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Our sacred harthes shall burne eternally 
 As vestal flames ; the North-wind, he 
 
 Shall strike his frost-stretch'd winges, dissolve 
 
 and flye 
 This jiEtna in epitome. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Dropping December shall come weeping in, 
 Bewayle th' usurping of his raigne ; 
 
 But when in show'rs of old Greeke 1 we beginne, 
 Shall crie, he hath his crowne againe ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Night as cleare Hesper shall our tapers whip 
 From the light casements, where we play, 
 
 And the darke hagge from her black mantle strip, 
 And sticke there everlasting day. 
 
 x. 
 
 Thus richer then untempted kings are we, 
 That asking nothing, nothing need : 
 
 Though lord of all what seas imbrace, yet he 
 That wants himselfe, is poore indeed. 
 
 1 i. e. old Greek wine. 
 
POEMS. 97 
 
 AN ELEGIE. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MRS. CASSANDRA COTTON, 
 ONLY SISTER TO MR. C. COTTON. 1 
 
 jlTHEE with hallowed steps as is the ground, 
 That must enshrine this saint with lookes 
 
 profound, 
 
 And sad aspects as the dark vails you weare, 
 Virgins opprest, draw gently, gently neare ; 
 Enter the dismall chancell of this roome, 
 Where each pale guest stands fixt a living tomhe ; 
 With trembling hands helpe to remove this earth 
 To its last death and first victorious birth : 
 Let gums and incense fume, who are at strife 
 To enter th' hearse and breath in it new life ; 
 Mingle your steppes with flowers as you goe, 
 Which, as they haste to fade, will speake your woe. 
 
 And when y' have plac't your tapers on her urn, 
 How poor a tribute 'tis to weep and mourn ! 
 That flood the chaunell of your eye-lids fils, 
 When you lose trifles, or what's lesse, your wills. 
 If you'l be worthy of these obsequies, 
 Be blind unto the world, and drop your eyes ; 
 
 1 Cassandra Cotton, only daughter of Sir George Cotton, of 
 iVarblenton, co. Sussex, and of Bedhampton, co. Hants, died 
 iome time before 1649, unmarried. She was the sister of Charles 
 Dotton the elder, and aunt to the poet. See Walton's Angler, 
 id. Nicolas, Introduction, clxvi. 
 H 
 
98 POEMS. 
 
 Waste and consume, burn downward as this fire 
 That's fed no more : so willingly expire ; 
 Passe through the cold and obscure narrow way, 
 Then light your torches at the spring of day, 
 There with her triumph in your victory. 
 Such joy alone and such solemnity 
 Becomes this funerall of virginity. 
 
 Or, if you faint to be so blest, oh heare ! 
 If not to dye, dare but to live like her : 
 Dare to live virgins, till the honour'd age 
 Of thrice fifteen cals matrons on the stage, 
 "Whilst not a blemish or least staine is seene 
 On your white roabe 'twixt fifty and fifteene ; 
 But as it in your swathing-bands was given, 
 Bring't in your winding sheet unsoyl'd to Heav'n. 
 Dsere to do purely, without compact good, 
 Or herald, by no one understood 
 But him, who now in thanks bows either knee 
 For th' early benefit and secresie. 
 
 Dare to affect a serious holy sorrow, 
 To which delights of pallaces are narrow, 
 And, lasting as their smiles, dig you a roome, 
 Where practise the probation of your tombe 
 With ever-bended knees and piercing pray'r, 
 Smooth the rough passe through craggy earth to ay' 
 Flame there as lights that shipwrackt mariners 
 May put in safely, and secure their feares, 
 Who, adding to your joyes, now owe you theirs. 
 
 Virgins, if thus you dare but courage take 
 To follow her in life, else through this lake 
 
POEMS. 99 
 
 Of Nature wade, and breake her earthly bars, 
 Y' are fixt with her upon a throne of stars, 
 Arched with a pure Heav'n chrystaline, 
 Where round you love and joy for ever shine. 
 
 But you are dumbe, as what you do lament 
 More senseles then her very monument, 
 Which at your weaknes weeps. Spare that vaine teare, 
 Enough to burst the rev'rend sepulcher. 
 Rise and walk home ; there groaning prostrate fall, 
 And celebrate your owne sad funerall : 
 For howsoe're you move, may heare, or see, 
 You are more dead and buried then shee. 
 
 THE VINTAGE TO THE DUNGEON. 
 
 A SONG. 1 
 
 SET BY MB. WILLIAM LATVES. 
 I. 
 
 ING out, pent soules, sing cheerefully ! 
 Care shackles you in liberty : 
 Mirth frees you in captivity. 
 
 Would you double fetters adde ? 
 
 Else why so sadde ? 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Besides your pinion'd armes youl finde 
 Griefe too can manakell the minde. 
 
 1 Probably composed during the poet's confinement in Peter- 
 house. 
 
100 POEMS. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Live then, pris'ners, uncontrol'd ; 
 Drink oth' strong, the rich, the old, 
 Till wine too hath your wits in hold ; 
 
 Then if still your jollitie 
 
 And throats are free 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Tryumph in your honds and paines, 
 And daunce to the music of your chaines. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MES. ELIZABETH 
 
 FILMEK. 1 
 AN ELEGIACALL EPITAPH. 
 
 [OU that shall live awhile, before 
 Old time tyrs, and is no more : 
 When that this ambitious stone 
 Stoopes low as what it tramples on : 
 Know that in that age, when sinne 
 Gave the world law, and governd Queene, 
 A virgin liv'd, that still put on 
 White thoughts, though out of fashion : 
 
 lM 
 
 1 This lady was perhaps the daughter of Edward Filmer, 
 of East Sutton, co. Kent, by his wife Eliza, daughter of Richard 
 Argall, Esq., of the same place (See Harl. MS. 1432, p. 300). 
 Possibly, the Edward Filmer mentioned here was the same as 
 the author of " Frenche Court Ayres, with their Ditties eng- 
 lished," 1629, in praise of which Jonson has some lines in his 
 Underwoods. 
 
POEMS. 101 
 
 That trac't the stars, 'spite of report, 
 
 And durst be good, though chidden for't : 
 
 Of such a soule that infant Heav'n 
 
 Repented what it thus had giv'n : 
 
 For finding equall happy man, 
 
 Th' impatient pow'rs snatch it agen. 
 
 Thus, chaste as th' ayre whither shee's fled, 
 
 She, making her celestial! bed 
 
 In her warme alablaster, lay 
 
 As cold as in this house of clay : 
 
 Nor were the rooms unfit to feast 
 
 Or circumscribe this angel-guest ; 
 
 The radiant gemme was brightly set 
 
 In as divine a carkanet ; 
 
 Of l which the clearer was not knowne, 
 
 Her minde or her complexion. 
 
 Such an everlasting grace, 
 
 Such a beatifick face, 
 
 Incloysters here this narrow floore, 
 
 That possest all hearts before. 
 
 Blest and bewayl'd in death and birth ! 
 The smiles and teares of heav'n and earth ! 
 Virgins at each step are afeard, 
 Filmer is shot by which they steer'd, 
 Their star extinct, their beauty dead, 
 That the yong world to honour led ; 
 But see ! the rapid spheres stand still, 
 And tune themselves unto her will. 
 
 Original reads for. 
 
102 POEMS. 
 
 Thus, although this marble must, 
 As all things, crumble into dust, 
 And though you finde this faire-built tombe 
 Ashes, as what lyes in its wombe : 
 Yet her saint-like name shall shine 
 A living glory to this shrine, 
 And her eternall fame be read, 
 When all but very vertue's dead. 1 
 
 TO MY WOETHY FRIEND MR. PETER 
 LILLY: 2 
 
 ON THAT EXCELLENT PICTUBE OF HIS MAJESTY AND 
 
 THE DUUE OF YORKE, DBAWNE BY HIM 
 
 AT HAMPTON- COUBT. 
 
 ,EE ! what a clouded majesty, and eyes 
 Whose glory through their mist doth 
 
 brighter rise ! 
 
 See ! what an humble bravery doth shine, 
 And griefe triumphant breaking through each line, 
 
 1 " Which ensuing times shall warble, 
 
 When 'tis lost, that 's writ in marble." 
 WlTHER'S Fair Virtue, the Mistress of Philarete, 1622. 
 Headley (Select Beauties, ed. 1810, ii. p. 42) has remarked the 
 similarity between these lines and some in Collins' Dirge in 
 Cymbeline : 
 
 " Belov'd till life can charm no more ; 
 And mourn'd till pity's self be dead." 
 
 * Mr., afterwards Sir Peter, Lely. He was frequently called 
 Lilly, or Lilley, by his contemporaries, and Lilley is Pepys* 
 
POEMS. 103 
 
 How it commands the face ! so sweet a scorne 
 
 Never did happy misery adorne ! 
 
 So sacred a contempt, that others show 
 
 To this, (oth' height of all the wheele) below, 
 
 That mightiest monarchs by this shaded booke 
 
 May coppy out their proudest, richest looke. 
 
 Whilst the true eaglet this quick luster spies, 
 And by his sun's enlightens his owne eyes ; 
 He cures * his cares, his burthen feeles, then streight 
 Joyes that so lightly he can beare such weight ; 
 Whilst either eithers passion doth borrow, 
 And both doe grieve the same victorious sorrow. 
 
 These, my best Lilly, with so bold a spirit 
 And soft a grace, as if thou didst inherit 
 For that time all their greatnesse, and didst draw 
 With those brave eyes your royal sitters saw. 
 
 Not as of old, when a rough hand did speake 
 A strong aspect, and a faire face, a weake ; 
 
 spelling. " At Lord Northumberland's, at Sion, is a remarkable 
 picture of King Charles I, holding a letter directed 'au roi 
 mon seigneur,' and the Duke of York, set. 14, presenting a pen- 
 knife to him to cut the strings. It was drawn at Hampton- 
 Court, when the King was last there, by Mr. Lely, who was 
 sarnestly recommended to him. I should have taken it for the 
 hand of Fuller or Dobson. It is certainly very unlike Sir 
 Peter's latter manner, and is stronger than his former. The 
 King has none of the melancholy grace which Vandyck alone, 
 of all his painters, always gave him. It has a sterner counte- 
 nance, and expressive of the tempests he had experienced." 
 WALPOLE'S Anecdotes of Painting in England, ed. 1862, p. 443-4. 
 1 Original reads cares. 
 
104 POEMS. 
 
 When only a black beard cried villaine, and 
 By hieroglyphicks we could understand ; 
 When chrystall typified in a white spot, 
 And the bright ruby was but one red blot ; 
 Thou dost the things Orientally the same 
 Not only paintst its colour, but its flame : 
 Thou sorrow canst designe without a teare, 
 And with the man his very hope or feare ; 
 So that th' amazed world shall henceforth finde 
 None but my Lilly ever drew a minde. 
 
 THE LADY A. L. 1 
 
 MY ASYLUM IN A GREAT EXTREMITY. 
 
 SlTH that delight the Eoyal captiv's 2 brought 
 Before the throne, to breath his farewell 
 
 thought, 
 
 To tel his last tale, and so end with it, 
 Which gladly he esteemes a benefit ; 
 WTien the brave victor, at his great soule dumbe, 
 Findes something there fate cannot overcome, 
 Cals the chain'd prince, and by his glory led, 
 First reaches him his crowne, and then his head ; 
 Who ne're 'til now thinks himself slave and poor ; 
 For though nought else, he had himselfe before. 
 
 1 i. e. Anne, Lady Lovelace, the poet's kinswoman, who seems 
 to have assisted him in some emergency, unknown to us except 
 through the present lines. 
 
 2 Caractacus ( ?). 
 
POEMS. 105 
 
 He weepes at this faire chance, nor wil allow, 
 But that the diadem doth brand his brow, 
 And under-rates himselfe below mankinde, 
 Who first had lost his body, now his minde, 
 
 With such a joy came I to heare my dombe, 
 And haste the preparation of my tombe, 
 When, like good angels who have heav'nly charge 
 To steere and guide mans sudden giddy barge, 
 She snatcht me from the rock I was upon, 
 And landed me at life's pavillion : 
 Where I, thus wound out of th' immense abysse, 
 Was straight set on a pinacle of blisse. 
 
 Let me leape in againe ! and by that fall 
 Bring me to my first woe, so cancel all : 
 Ah ! 's this a quitting of the debt you owe, 
 To crush her and her goodnesse at one blowe ? 
 
 Defend me from so foule impiety, 
 Would make friends grieve, and furies weep to see. 
 
 ]S"ow, ye sage spirits, which infuse in men 
 That are oblidg'd twice to oblige agen, 
 Informe my tongue in labour what to say, 
 And in what coyne or language to repay. 
 But you are silent as the ev'nings ayre, 
 When windes unto their hollow grots repaire. 1 
 
 J The mythology of Greece assigned to each wind a separate 
 ave, in which it was supposed to await the commands of its 
 overeign JSolus, or JSolos. It is to this myth that Lovelace 
 lludes. 
 
106 POEMS. 
 
 Oh, then accept the all that left me is, 
 Devout oblations of a sacred wish ! 
 
 "When she walks forth, ye perfum'd wings oth'East, 
 Fan her, 'til with the Sun she hastes to th' West, 
 And when her heav'nly course calles up the day, 
 And breakes as bright, descend, some glistering ray, 
 To circle her, and her as glistering haire, 
 That all may say a living saint shines there. 
 Slow Time, with woollen feet make thy soft pace, 
 And leave no tracks ith' snow of her pure face ; 
 But when this vertue must needs fall, to rise 
 The brightest constellation in the skies ; 
 WTien we in characters of fire shall reade, 
 How cleere she was alive, how spotless, dead. 
 All you that are a kinne to piety : 
 For onely you can her close mourners be, 
 Draw neer, and make of hallowed teares a dearth : 
 Goodnes and justice both are fled the earth. 
 
 If this be to be thankful, I'v a heart 
 Broaken with vowes, eaten with grateful smart, 
 And beside this, the vild 1 world nothing hath 
 Worth anything but her provoked wrath ; 
 So then, who thinkes to satisfie in time, 
 Must give a satisfaction for that crime : 
 Since she alone knowes the gifts value, she 
 Can onely to her selfe requitall be, 
 And worthyly to th' life paynt her owne story 
 In its true colours and full native glory ; 
 
 1 A very common form of vile among early writers. 
 
POEMS. 107 
 
 Which when perhaps she shal be heard to tell, 
 i Buffoones and theeves, ceasing to do ill, 
 Shal blush into a virgin-innocence, 
 And then woo others from the same offence ; 
 The robber and the murderer, in 'spite 
 Of his red spots, shal startle into white : 
 All good (rewards lajd by) shal stil increase 
 For love of her, and villany decease ; 1 
 taught 2 be ignote, not so much out of feare 
 Of being punisht, as offending her. 
 
 So that, .when as my future daring bayes 
 Shall bow it selfe 3 in lawrels to her praise, 
 To crown her conqu'ring goodnes, and proclaime 
 The due renowne and glories of her name : 
 My wit shal be so wretched and so poore 
 That, 'stead of praysing, I shal scandal her, 
 And leave, when with my purest art I'v done, 
 Scarce the designe of what she is begunne : 
 Yet men shal send me home, admir'd, exact ; 
 Proud, that I could from her so wel detract. 
 
 1 This reads like a parody on the fourth Eclogue of Virgil, 
 he early English poets \vefe rather partial to the introduction 
 ' miniature-pictures of the Golden Age on similar occasions to 
 ;e present. Thus Carew, in his poem To Su.rham, says : 
 
 " The Pheasant, Partridge, and the Lark 
 Flew to thy house, as to the Ark. 
 The willing Oxe of himself came 
 Home to the slaughter with the Lamb. 
 And every beast did thither bring 
 Himself, to be an offering." 
 
 CAREW'S Poems, 1651, p. 34. 
 
 2 Vice. 3 We should read themselves. 
 
108 POEMS. 
 
 Where, then, thou bold instinct, shal I begin 
 My endlesse taske ? To thanke her were a sin 
 Great as not speake, and not to speake, 'a blame 
 Beyond what's worst, such as doth want a name ; 
 So thou my all, poore gratitude, ev'n thou 
 In this wilt an unthankful office do : 
 Or wilt I fling all at her feet I have : 
 My life, my love, my very soule, a slave ? 
 Tye my free spirit onely unto her, 
 And yeeld up my affection prisoner ? 
 Fond thought, in this thou teachest me to give 
 What first was hers, since by her breath I live ; 
 And hast but show'd me, how I may resigne 
 Possession of those things are none of mine. 
 
 , I 
 
 A LADY WITH A FALCON ON HER FIST 
 
 TO THE HONOURABLE MY COUSIN 
 A[NNE] L[OVELACE.] 
 
 i. 
 HIS Queen of Prey (now prey to you), 
 
 Fast to that pirch of ivory 
 In silver chaines and silken clue, 
 Hath now made full thy victory : 
 
 H. 
 The swelling admirall of the dread 
 
 Cold deepe, burnt in thy flames, oh faire ! 
 Wast not enough, but thou must lead 
 
 Bound, too, .the Princesse of the aire ? 
 
 
POEMS. 109 
 
 in. 
 Unarm'd of wings and scaly oare, 
 
 Unhappy crawler on the land, 
 To what heav'n fly'st ? div'st to what shoare, 
 That her brave eyes do not command ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ascend the chariot of the Sun 
 
 From her bright pow'r to shelter thee : 
 
 Her captive (foole) outgases him ; 
 Ah, what lost wretches then are we ! 
 
 v. 
 Now, proud usurpers on the right 
 
 Of sacred beauty, heare your dombe ; 
 Kecant your sex, your mastry, might ; 
 
 !Lower you cannot be or'ecome : 
 
 VI. 
 
 Eepent, ye er'e nam'd he or head, 
 
 For y' are in falcon's monarchy, 
 And in that just dominion bred, 
 
 In which the nobler is the shee. 
 
110 POEMS. 
 
 A PEOLOGUE TO THE SCHOLARS. 
 
 A COMEDY PRESENTED AT THE WHITE FRYERS. 1 : 
 
 GENTLEMAN, to give us somewhat nevi 
 Hath brought up Oxford with him to sho 
 
 you; 
 
 Pray be not frighted Tho the scsene 
 gown's 
 
 The Universities, the wit 's the town's ; 
 
 The lines each honest Englishman may speake : 
 
 Yet not mistake his mother-tongue for Greeke, 
 
 For stil 'twas part of his vow'd liturgie : 
 
 From learned comedies deliver me ! 
 
 Wishing all those that lov'd 'em here asleepe, 
 
 Promising scholars, but no scholarship. 
 
 You'd smile to see, how he do's vex and shake, 
 Speakes naught; but, if the prologue do's but take, 
 Or the first act were past the pikes once, then 
 Then hopes and joys, then frowns and fears agen, 
 Then blushes like a virgin, now to be 
 Eob'd of his comicall virginity 
 
 - 
 
 1 This was the theatre in Salisbury Court. See Collicj 
 H. E. D. P. iii. 289, and Halliwell's Dictionary of Old Plot 
 art. SCHOLAR. From the terms of the epilogue it seems to ha*: 
 been a piece occupying two hours in the performance. Judgin 
 I presume, from the opening lines, Mr. Halliwell supposes it 
 have been originally acted at Gloucester Hall. Probably M 
 Halliwell is right. 
 
POEMS. Ill 
 
 In presence of you all. In short, you'd say 
 More hopes of mirth are in his looks then play. 
 
 These feares are for the noble and the wise ; 
 But if 'mongst you there are such fowle dead eyes, 
 As can damne unaraign'd, cal law their pow'rs, 
 Judging it sin enough that it is ours, 
 And with the house shift their decreed desires, 
 Faire still toitiBlacke,BlacJce still to the White- Fry er s 
 He do's protest he wil sit down and weep 
 Castles and pyramids 
 
 . No, he wil on, 
 
 Proud to he rais'd by such destruction, 
 So far from quarr'lling with himselfe and wit, 
 That he wil thank them for the benefit, 
 Since finding nothing worthy of their hate, 
 They reach him that themselves must envy at : 
 
 THE EPILOGUE. 
 
 HE stubborne author of the trifle 2 crime, 
 That just now cheated you of two hours' 
 
 time, 
 
 Presumptuous it lik't him, 3 began to grow 
 Carelesse, whether it pleased you or no. 
 
 1 A quibble 011 the two adjacent theatres in Whitefriars and 
 Ulackfriars. 
 
 2 Perhaps trifling was the word written by Lovelace. A 
 Denial offence is meant. 
 
 3 It would be difficult to point out a writer so unpardonably 
 
112 POEMS. 
 
 But we who ground th' excellence of a play 
 On what the women at the dores wil say, 
 Who judge it hy the benches, and afford 
 To take your money, ere his oath or word 
 His schollars school'd, sayd if he had been wise 
 He should have wove in one two comedies ; 
 The first for th' gallery, in which the throne 
 To their amazement should descend alone, 
 The rosin -lightning flash, and monster spire 
 Squibs, and words hotter then his fire. 
 
 Th' other for the gentlemen oth' pit, 
 Like to themselves, all spirit, fancy, wit, 
 In which plots should be subtile as a flame, 
 Disguises would make Proteus stil the same : 
 Humours so rarely humour'd and exprest, 
 That ev'n they should thinke 'em so, not drest ; 
 Vices acted and applauded too, times 
 Tickled, and th ? actors acted, not their crimes, 
 So he might equally applause have gain'd 
 Of th' hardned, sooty, and the snowy hand. 1 
 
 Where now one so so 2 spatters, t'other : no ! 
 Tis his first play ; twere solecisme 'tshould goe ; 
 
 slovenly in his style or phraseology as Lovelace. By " Presump 
 tuous it lik't him," we must of course understand " Presumptuou 
 that he liked it himself," or presumptuously self-satisfied. 
 
 1 t. e. the rough and dirty occupants of the gallery and thi 
 fair spectators in the boxes. 
 
 2 An exclamation of approval, when an actor made a hit 
 The phrase seems to be somewhat akin to the Italian " si, si," 
 corruption of " sia, sia." 
 
POEMS. 113 
 
 The next 't shew'd pritily, but searcht within 
 It appeares bare and bald, as is his chin ; 
 The towne-wit sentences : A Scholars Play ! 
 Pish ! I know not why, but th'ave not the way. 1 
 
 We, whose gaine is all our pleasure, ev'n these 
 Are bound by justice and religion to please ; 
 Which he, whose pleasure's all his gaine, goes by 
 As slightly, as they doe his comsedy. 
 
 Culls out the few, the worthy, at whose feet 
 He sacrifices both himselfe and it, 
 His fancies first fruits : profit he knowes none, 
 Unles that of your approbation, 
 Which if your thoughts at going out will pay, 
 Hee'l not-looke farther for a second day. 2 
 
 AGAINST THE LOVE OF GEEAT ONES. 
 
 NHAPPY youth, betrayd by Fate 
 To such a love 3 hath sainted hate, 
 And damned those celestiall bands 4 
 Are onely knit with equal hands ; 
 
 1 f. e. they do not know how to act a play. 
 
 2 This prologue and epilogue were clearly not attached to the 
 ay when it was first performed by the fellow-collegians of the 
 >et at Gloucester Hall, as an amateur attempt in the dramatic 
 le, but were first added when " The Scholars " was reproduced 
 
 London, and the parts sustained by ordinary actors. 
 
 3 Le. thath&th sainted, &c. 
 
 4 So the Editor's MS. copy already described; the printed 
 py has bonds. 
 
 I 
 
114 POEMS. 
 
 The love of great ones is a love, 1 
 Gods are incapable to prove : 
 For where there is a joy uneven, 
 There never, never can be Heav'n : 
 'Tis such a love as is not sent 
 To fiends as yet for punishment ; 
 Ixion willingly doth feele 
 The gyre of his eternal wheele, 
 Nor would he now exchange his paine 
 For cloudes and goddesses againe. 
 
 Wouldst thou with tempests lye ? Then bow 
 To th' rougher furrows of her brow, 
 Or make a thunder-bolt thy choyce ? 
 Then catch at her more fatal voyce ; 
 Or 'gender with the lightning ? trye 
 The subtler 2 flashes of her eye : 
 Poore Semele 3 wel knew the same, 
 Who 4 both imbrac't her God and flame; 
 And not alone in soule did burne, 
 But in this love did ashes turne. 
 
 How il doth majesty injoy 
 The bow and gaity oth' boy, 
 As if the purple-roabe should sit, 
 And sentence give ith' chayr of wit. 
 
 1 So Editor's MS. Printed copy has 
 
 " The Love of Great Ones? Tis a Love." 
 
 2 Subtle Editor's MS. 
 
 3 Semele she Editor's MS. 
 
 4 ShQIbid. 
 
POEMS. 115 
 
 Say, ever-dying wretch, to whom 
 Each answer is a certaine doom, 1 
 What is it that you would possesse, 
 The Countes, or the naked Besse ? 2 
 Would you her gowne or title do ? 
 Her box or gem, the 3 thing or show? 
 If you meane Tier, the very her, 
 Abstracted from her caracter, 
 Unhappy boy ! you may as soone 
 With fawning wanton with the Moone, 
 Or with an amorous complaint 
 Get prostitute your very saint ; 
 Not that we are not mortal, or 
 Fly Venus altars, and 4 abhor 
 The selfesame knack, for which you pine ; 
 But we (defend us !) are divine, 
 [Not] female, but madam born, 5 and come 
 From a right-honourable wombe. 
 
 1 Dombe Lucasta. 
 
 8 Bess is used in the following passage as a phrase for a sort 
 )f female Tom-o-Bedlam 
 
 ** We treat mad-Bedlams, Toms and Besses, 
 With ceremonies and caresses ! " 
 
 DIXON'S Canidia, 1683, part i. canto 2. 
 
 ind the word seems also to have been employed to signify the 
 oose women who, in early times, made Covent Garden and its 
 icighbourhood their spe'cial haunt. See Cotgrave's Wits Inter- 
 preter, 1662, p. 236. But here "naked Besse," means only a 
 roman who, in contradistinction to a lady of rank, has no ad- 
 'entitious qualities to recommend her. 
 
 3 Original reads her. 
 
 4 Altars, or Lucasta. 
 
 5 Borne Lucasta. 
 
116 POEMS. 
 
 Shal we then mingle with the base, 
 
 And bring a silver-tinsell race ? 
 
 Whilst th' issue noble wil not passe 
 
 The gold alloyd 1 (almost halfe brasse), 
 
 And th' blood in each veine doth appeare, 
 
 Part thick Booreinn, part Lady Cleare ; 
 
 Like to the sordid insects sprung 
 
 From Father Sun and Mother Dung : 
 
 Yet lose we not the hold we have, 
 
 But faster graspe the trembling slave ; v 
 
 Play at baloon with's heart, and winde 
 
 The strings like scaines, steale into his minde 
 
 Ten thousand false 2 and feigned joyes 
 
 Far worse then they ; whilst, like whipt boys, 
 
 After this scourge hee's hush with toys. 
 
 This 3 heard, Sir, play stil in her eyes, 
 And be a dying, live 4 like flyes 
 Caught by their angle-legs, and whom 
 The torch laughs peece-meale to consume. 
 
 1 Allay'd Lucnsta. 
 
 2 So Editor's MS. Lucasta has hells. 
 
 3 From this word down to lives is omitted in the MS. copy 
 
 4 Original has lives. 
 
POEMS. 117 
 
 TO ALTHEA. 
 
 ~ 
 
 FBOM PRISON. 
 
 SOXG. 
 
 SET BY DE. JOHN TVTLSON. 1 
 I. 
 
 HEX love with unconfined wings 
 
 Hovers within my gates ; 
 And my divine Alihea brings 
 To whisper at the grates ; 
 When I lye tangled in her haire, 2 
 And fetterd to her eye, 3 
 
 1 The first stanza of this famous song is harmonized in 
 Cheerfull Ayres or Ballads : First composed for -one single voice, 
 and since set for three voices. By John Wilson, Dr. in 
 Music, Professor of the same in the University of Oxford. 
 Oxford, 1660 (Sept. 20, 1659), 4to. p. 10. I have sometimes 
 thought that, when Lovelace composed this production, he had in 
 his recollection some of the sentiments in Wither's Sliepherds 
 Hunting, 1615. See, more particularly, the sonnet (at p. 248 of 
 Mr. Gutch's Bristol edition) commencing : 
 
 " I that er'st while the world's sweet air did draw." 
 
 2 Peele, in King David and Fair Bethsabe, 1599, has a similar 
 figure, where David says : 
 
 " Now comes my lover tripping like the roe, 
 
 And brings my longings tangled in her hair." 
 The " lover " is of course Bethsabe. 
 
 3 Thus Middleton, in his More Dissemblers besides Women, 
 printed in 1657, but written before 1626, says : 
 
 " But for modesty, 
 
 I should fall foul in words upon fond man, 
 That can forget his excellence and honour, 
 His serious meditations, being the end 
 Of his creation, to learn well to die ; 
 And live a prisoner to a woman's eye" 
 
118 POEMS. 
 
 The -kircb. 1 that wanton in the aire, 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
 H. 
 When flowing cups run swiftly round 
 
 With no allaying Thames, 
 Our carelesse heads with roses hound, 
 
 Our .hearts with loyal flames ; 
 When thirsty griefe in wine we steepe, 
 
 When healths and draughts go free, 
 Fishes, that tipple in the deepe, 
 
 Know no such libertie. 
 
 in. 
 
 When (like committed linnets 2 ) I 
 With shriller throat shall sing 
 
 1 Original reads gods; the present word is substituted in ac- 
 cordance with a MS. copy of the song printed by the late Dr. 
 Bliss, in his edition of Woods Athenas. If Dr. Bliss had been 
 aware of the extraordinary corruptions under which the text of 
 LUCASTA laboured, he would have had less hesitation in adopt- 
 ing birds as the true reading. The " Song to Althea," is a fa- 
 vourable specimen of the class of composition to which it belongs ; 
 but I fear that it has been over-estimated. 
 
 2 Percy very unnecessarily altered like committed linnets to 
 linnet-like confined (Percy's Reliques, ii. 247; Moxon's ed.) 
 Ellis (Specimens of Early English Poets, ed. 1801, iii. 252) 
 says that this latter reading is " more intelligible." It is not, 
 however, either what Lovelace wrote, or what (it may be 
 presumed) he intended to write, and nothing, it would seem, can 
 be clearer than the passage as it stands, committed signifying, in 
 fact, nothing more than confined. It is fortunate for the lovers 
 of early English literature that Bp. Percy had comparatively 
 little to do with it. Emendation of a text is well enough ; but 
 the wholesale and arbitrary slaughter of it is quite another 
 matter. 
 
POEMS. 119 
 
 The sweetnes, mercy, majesty, 
 
 And glories of my King. 
 When I shall voyce aloud, how good 
 
 He is, how great should be, 
 Inlarged winds, that curie the flood, 
 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Stone walls doe not a prison make, 
 
 Nor iron bars a cage ; 
 Mindes innocent and quiet take 
 
 That for an hermitage ; 
 If I have freedome in my love, 
 
 And in my soule am free, 
 Angels alone that sore above 
 
 Enjoy such liberty. 
 
120 POEMS. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 TO GENERALL GORING, 1 AFTER THE PACIFICATION 
 
 AT BERWICKE. 
 A LA CHABOT. 2 
 
 I. 
 
 OW the peace is made at the foes rate, 3 
 Whilst men of armes to kettles their old 
 
 helmes translate, 
 And drinke in caskes of honourable plate. 
 
 1 Particulars of this celebrated man, afterward created Earl 
 of Norwich, may be found in Eachard's History, Rushworth's 
 Collections, Whitelocke's Memoirs, Collins' Peerage by Brydges, 
 Pepys' Diary (i. 150, ed. 1858), and Peck's Desiderata Curiosa, 
 (ed. 1779, ii. 479). Whitelocke speaks very highly of his mili- 
 tary character. In a poem called The Gallants of the Times,, 
 printed in "Wit Restored," 1658, there is the following pas- 
 sage: 
 
 " A great burgandine for Will Murray's sake 
 
 George Symonds, he vows the first course to take : 
 
 When Stradling a Gneciau dog let fly, 
 
 Who took the bear by the nose immediately ; 
 
 To see them so forward Hugh Pollard did smile, 
 
 Who had an old curr of Canary oyl, 
 
 And held up his head that George Goring might see, 
 
 Who then cryed aloud, To mee, boys, to mee .'" 
 
 See, also, The Answer : 
 
 " George, Generall of Guenefrieds, 
 
 He is a joviall lad, 
 
 Though his heart and fortunes disagree 
 Oft times to make him sad." 
 
 Consult Davenant's Works, 1673, p. 247, and Frogmen ta Au- 
 
POEMS. 121 
 
 In ev'ry hand [let] a cup be found, 
 That from all hearts a health may sound 
 To Goring ! to Goring I see 't goe round. 
 
 u. 
 
 He whose glories shine so brave and high, 
 That captive they in triumph leade each eare and eye, 
 Claiming uncombated the victorie, 
 
 And from the earth to heav'n rebound, 
 
 Fixt there eternall as this round : 
 
 To Goring I to Goring ! see him crown'd. 
 
 m. 
 
 To his lovely bride, in love with scars, 
 Whose eyes wound deepe in peace, as doth bis sword 
 
 in wars ; 
 
 They shortly must depose the Queen of Stars : 
 Her cheekes the morning blushes give, 
 And the benighted world repreeve ; 
 To Lettice I to Lettice ! let her live. 
 
 lica, 1662, pp. 47, 54. Lord Goring died Jan. 6, 1663 (Smyth's 
 Obituary, p. 57 ; Camden Soc.). 
 
 2 A la Chabot was a French dance tune, christened after the 
 admiral of that name, in the same manner as a la Bourbon, men- 
 tioned elsewhere in LUCASTA, derived its title from another 
 celebrated person. Those who have any acquaintance with the 
 history of early English music need not to be informed that it 
 was formerly the practice of our own composers to seek the 
 patronage of the gentlemen and ladies about the Court for their 
 works, and to identify their names with them. Thus we have 
 " My Lady Carey's Dumpe," &c. &c. 
 
 3 Expense. 
 
122 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Give me scorching heat, thy heat, dry Sun, 
 That to this payre I may drinke off an ocean : 
 
 Yet leave my grateful thirst unquensht, undone ; 
 Or a full howle of heav'nly wine, 
 In which dissolved stars should shine, 
 To the couple ! to the couple ! th' are divine. 
 
 SIE THOMAS WOKTLEY'S SONNET 
 ANSWERED. 
 
 [THE SONNET. 
 
 I. 
 
 O more 
 Thou little winged archer, now no more 
 
 As heretofore, 
 Thou maist pretend within my breast to bide, 
 
 No more, 
 
 Since cruell Death of dearest Lyndamore 
 Hath me depriv'd, 
 I bid adieu to love, and all the world beside. 
 
 n. 
 
 Go, go ; 
 Lay by thy quiver and unbend thy bow 
 
 Poore sillie foe, 
 Thou spend'st thy shafts but at my breast in vain, 
 
 Since Death 
 
POEMS. 123 
 
 My heart hath with a fatall icie deart 
 
 Already slain, 
 Thou canst not ever hope to warme her wound, 
 
 Or wound it o're againe.] 
 
 THE ANSWER. 
 
 I. 
 
 'GAINE, 
 Thou witty cruell wanton, now againe, 
 
 Through ev'ry veine, 
 
 Hurle all your lightning, and strike ev'ry 
 dart, 
 
 Againe, 
 Before I feele this pleasing, pleasing paine. 
 
 * I have no heart, 
 Nor can I live but sweetly murder'd with 
 
 So deare, so deare a smart. 
 
 n. 
 
 Then flye, 
 And kindle all your torches at her eye, 
 
 To make me dye 
 Her martyr, and put on my roahe of flame : 
 
 Sol, 
 Advanced on my blazing wings on high, 
 
 In death became 
 Inthroan'd a starre, and ornament unto 
 
 Her glorious, glorious name. 
 
124 POEMS. 
 
 A GUILTLESSE LADY IMPRISONED : 
 
 AFTEE PENANCED. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 SET BY MB. WILLIAM LAWES. 
 I. 
 
 EARK, faire one, how what e're here is 
 Doth laugh and sing at thy distresse ; 
 Not out of hate to thy reliefe, 
 
 But joy t' enjoy thee, though in griefe. 
 
 n. 
 See ! that which chaynes you, you chaine here ; 
 
 The prison is thy prisoner ; 
 How much thy jaylor's keeper art ! 
 
 He bindes your hands, hut you his heart. 
 
 in. 
 The gyves to rase so smooth a skin, 
 
 Are so unto themselves within ; 
 But, blest to kisse so fayre an arme, 
 
 Haste to be happy with that harme ; 
 
 IV. 
 
 And play about thy wanton wrist, 
 
 As if in them thou so wert drest ; 
 But if too rough, too hard they presse, 
 
 Oh, they but closely, closely kisse. 
 
 v. 
 
 And as thy bare feet blesse the way, 
 The people doe not mock, but pray, 
 
POEMS. 125 
 
 And call thee, as amas'd they run 
 Instead of prostitute, a nun. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The merry torch burnes with desire 
 
 To kindle the eternall fire, 
 And lightly daunces in thine eyes 
 
 To tunes of epithalamies. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The sheet's ty'd ever to thy wast, 
 
 How thankfull to he so imbrac't ! 
 And see ! thy very very bonds 
 
 Are bound to thee, to binde such hands. 
 
 TO HIS DEAEE BROTHER COLONEL F. L. 
 
 IMMODERATELY MOURNING MY BROTHERS l 
 UNTIMELY DEATH AT CARMARTHEN. 
 I. 
 
 F teares could wash the ill away, 
 A pearle for each wet bead I'd pay ; 
 But as dew'd corne the fuller growes, 
 So water'd eyes but swell our woes. 
 
 ii. 
 
 One drop another cals, which still 
 (Griefe adding fuell) doth distill ; 
 Too fruitfull of her selfe is anguish, 
 We need no cherishing to languish. 
 
 1 Thomas Lovelace. See Memoir. 
 
126 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 HI. 
 
 Coward fate degen'rate man 
 Like little children uses, when 
 He whips us first, untill we weepe, 
 Then, 'cause we still a weeping keepe. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then from thy firme selfe never swerve ; 
 Teares fat the griefe that they should sterve 
 Iron decrees of destinie 
 Are ner'e wipe't out with a wet eye. 
 
 v. 
 
 But this way you may gaine the field, 
 Oppose but sorrow, and 'twill yield ; 
 One gallant thorough-made resolve 
 Doth starry influence dissolve. 
 
 TO A LADY 
 
 THAT DESIRED ME I WOULD BEARE MY 
 PART WITH HER IN A SONG. 
 
 MADAM A. L. 1 
 
 HIS is the prittiest motion : 
 Madam, th' alarums of a drumme 
 That cals your lord, set to your cries, 
 To mine are sacred symphonies. 
 
 1 "Madam A. L." is not in MS. copy. "The Lady A. L. 
 and " Madam A. L." may very probably be two different per 
 sons : for Carew in his Poems (edit. 1651, 8vo. p. 2) has a piec 
 " To A. L. ; Persuasions to Love," and it is possible that tin 
 
(POEMS. 127 
 
 "What, though 'tis said I have a voice ; 
 know 'tis hut that hollow noise 
 Which (as it through my pipe doth speed) 
 Bitterns do carol through a reed ; 
 
 A. L. of Carew, and the A. L. mentioned above, are identical. 
 The following poem is printed in Durfey's Pills to Purge Melan- 
 choly, v. 120, but whether it was written by Lovelace, and 
 addressed to the same lady, whom he represents above as re- 
 questing him to join her in a song, or whether it was the pro- 
 duction of another pen, I cannot at all decide. It is not parti- 
 cularly unlike the style of the author of Lucasta. At all events, 
 I am not aware that it has been appropriated by anybody else, 
 and as I am reluctant to omit any piece which Lovelace is at all 
 likely to have composed, I give these lines just as I find them in 
 Durfey, where they are set to music : 
 
 " To his fairest VALENTINE Mrs. A. L. 
 " Come, pretty birds, present your lays, 
 And learn to chaunt a goddess praise ; 
 Ye wood-nymphs, let your voices be 
 Emplov'd to serve her deity : 
 And warble forth, ye virgins nine, 
 Some music to my Valentine. 
 
 " Her bosom is love's paradise, 
 There is no heav'n but in her eyes ; 
 She's chaster than the turtle-dove, 
 And fairer than the queen of love : 
 Yet all perfections do combine 
 To beautifie my Valentine. 
 
 " She's Nature's choicest cabinet, 
 Where honour, beauty, worth and wit 
 Are all united in her breast. 
 The graces claim an interest : 
 All virtues that are most divine 
 Shine clearest in my Valentine." 
 
128 POEMS. 
 
 In the same key with monkeys jiggs, 
 
 Or dirges of proscribed piggs, 
 
 Or the soft Serenades above 
 
 In calme of night, 1 when 2 cats make 3 love. 
 
 Was ever such a consort seen ! 
 Fourscore and fourteen with forteen ? 
 Yet 4 sooner they'l agree, one paire, 
 Then we in our spring- winter aire ; 
 They may imbrace, sigh, kiss, the rest : 
 Our breath knows nought but east and west. 
 Thus have I heard to childrens cries 
 The faire nurse still such lullabies, 
 That, well all sayd (for what there lay), 
 The pleasure did the sorrow pay. 
 
 Sure ther's another way to save 
 Your phansie, 5 madam ; that's to have 
 ('Tis but, a petitioning kinde fate) 
 The organs sent to Bilingsgate, 
 Where they to that soft murm'ring quire 
 Shall teach ^ you all you can admire ! 
 
 1 Nights Editor's MS. 2 Where Ibid. 3 Do Ibid 
 
 4 There is here either an interpolation in the printed copy 
 an hiatus in the MS. The latter reads: 
 
 " Yet may I 'mbrace, sigh, kisse, the rest," &c., 
 thus leaving out a line and a half or upward of the poem, as it 
 is printed in Lucasta. 
 
 5 MS. reads : " Youre phansie, madam," 
 
 omitting " that's to have." 
 
 6 Original and MS. have reach. 
 
POEMS. 129 
 
 Or do but heare, how love-bang Kate 
 
 In pantry darke for freage of mate, 
 
 With edge of steele the square wood shapes, 
 
 And Dido l to it chaunts or scrapes. 
 
 The merry Phaeton oth' carre 
 
 You'l vow makes a melodious jarre ; 
 
 Sweeter and sweeter whisleth He 
 
 To un-anointed 2 axel-tree ; 
 
 Such swift notes he and 's wheels do run ; 
 
 For me, I yeeld him Phsebus son. 
 
 Say, faire Comandres, can it be 
 You should ordaine a mutinie? 
 
 1 This must refer, I suppose, to the ballad of QCKEX DIDO, 
 yhich the woman sings as she works. The signification of love- 
 tang is not easily determined. Sang, in Suffolk, is a term ap- 
 >lied to a particular kind of cheese ; but I suspect that " love- 
 >ang Kate " merely signifies " noisy Kate " here. As to the old 
 >allad of Dido, see Stafford Smith's Musica Antiqua, i. 10, ii. 
 158 ; and Collier's Extracts from the Registers of the Stationers' 
 Company , i. 98. I subjoin the first stanza of "Dido" as printed 
 n the Musica Antiqua : 
 
 " Dido was the Carthage Queene, 
 And lov'd the Troian knight, 
 That wandring many coasts had scene, 
 And many a dreadfull fight. 
 As they a-hunting road, a show'r 
 Drove them in a loving bower, 
 Down to a darksome cave : 
 Where ^Enaeas with his charmes 
 Lock't Queene Dido in his armes 
 And had what he would have." 
 
 i somewhat different version is given in Durfey's Pills to Purge 
 Itluncholy, vi. 192-3. 
 2 An unanoynted MS. 
 
130 POEMS. 
 
 For where I howle, all accents fall, 
 As kings harangues, to one and all. 1 
 
 Ulisses art is now withstood : 2 
 You ravish both with sweet and good ; 
 Saint Syren, sing, for I dare heare, 
 But when I ope', oh, stop your eare. 
 
 Far lesse he't a3mulation 
 To passe me, or in trill or 3 tone, 
 Like the thin throat of Philomel, 
 And the 4 smart lute who should excell, 
 As if her soft chords should begin, 
 And strive for sweetnes with the pin. 5 
 
 Yet can I musick too ; but such 
 As is beyond all voice or 6 touch ; 
 My minde can in faire order chime, 
 Whilst my true heart still beats the time 
 My soule['s] so full of harmonie, 
 That it with all parts can agree ; 
 If you winde up to the highest fret, 7 
 It shall descend an eight from it, 
 And when you shall vouchsafe to fall, 
 Sixteene above you it shall call, 
 
 1 This and the three preceding lines are not in MS. 
 
 2 Alluding of course to the very familiar legend of Ulys< 
 and the Syrens. 
 
 3 A quaver (a well-known musical expression). 
 
 4 A MS. 6 A musical peg. 
 
 6 And MS. 
 
 7 A piece of wire attached to the finger-board of a guitar. 
 
POEMS. 131 
 
 And yet, so dis-assenting one, 
 They both shall meet in 1 unison. 
 
 Come then, bright cherubin, begin ! 
 My loudest musick is within. 
 Take all notes with your skillfull eyes ; 
 Hearke, if mine do not sympathise ! 
 Sound all my thoughts, and see exprest 
 The tablature 2 of my large brest; 
 Then you'l admit, that I too can 
 Musick above dead sounds of man ; 
 Such as alone doth blesse the spheres, 
 Not to be reacht with humane eares. 
 
 VALIANT LOYE. 
 
 OW fie upon that everlasting life ! I dye ! 
 She hates ! Ah me ! It makes me mad ; 
 As if love fir'd his torch at a moist eye, 
 
 Or with his joyes e're crown'd the sad. 
 Oh, let me live and shout, when I fall on ; 
 Let me ev'n triumph in the first attempt ! 
 Loves duellist from conquest 's not exempt, 
 "When his fair murdresse shall not gain one groan, 
 And he expire ev'n in ovation. 
 
 1 Original and MS. read an. 
 
 2 The tablature of Lovelace's time was the application of 
 letters, of the alphabet or otherwise, to the purpose of express- 
 ing the sounds or notes of a composition. 
 
132 POEMS. 
 
 IT. 
 
 Let me make my approach, when I lye downe 
 
 With counter- wrought and travers eyes ; l 
 With peals of confidence batter the towne ; 
 
 Had ever beggar yet the keyes ? 
 No, I will vary stormes with sun and winde ; 
 
 Be rough, and offer calme condition ; 
 
 March in and pread, 2 or starve the garrison. 
 Let her make sallies hourely : yet I'le find 
 (Though all beat of) shee's to be undermin'd. 
 
 in. 
 Then may it please your little excellence 
 
 Of hearts t' ordaine, by sound of lips, 
 That henceforth none in tears dare love comence 
 
 (Her thoughts ith' full, his, in th' eclipse) ; 
 On paine of having 's launce broke on her bed, 
 
 That he be branded all free beauties' slave, 
 
 And his own hollow eyes be domb'd his grave : 
 Since in your hoast that coward nere was fed, 
 Who to his prostrate ere was prostrated. 
 
 1 This seems to be a phrase borrowed by the poet from his 
 military vocabulary. He wishes to express that he had fortified 
 his eyes to resist the glances of his fair opponent. 
 
 2 Original reads most unintelligibly and absurdly March in 
 (and pray' d) or, &c. To pread is to pillage. 
 
POEMS. 133 
 
 LA BELLA BONA KOBA. 1 J 
 
 TO MY LADY H. 
 
 ODE. 
 
 I. 
 
 ELL me, ye subtill judges in loves treasury, 
 Inform me, which hath most inricht mine eye, 
 This diamonds greatnes, or its clarity? 
 
 ii. 
 
 Ye cloudy spark lights, whose vast multitude 
 Of fires are harder to he found then view'd, 
 Waite on this star in her first magnitude. 
 
 in. 
 
 Calmely or roughly ! Ah, she shines too much ; 
 That now I lye (her influence is such), 
 Chrusht with too strong a hand, or soft a touch. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Lovers, heware ! a certaine, double harme 
 
 Waits your proud hopes, her looks al-killing charm 
 
 Guarded by her as true victorious arrne. 
 
 v. 
 
 Thus with her eyes brave Tamyris spake dread, 
 "Which when the kings dull breast not entered, 
 Finding she could not looke, she strook him dead. 
 
 1 This word, though generally used in a bad sense by early 
 writers, does not seem to bear in the present case any offensive 
 meaning. The late editors of Nares quote a passage from one 
 of Cowley's Essays, in which that writer seems to imply by the 
 term merely a fine woman. 
 
134 POEMS. 
 
 i. 
 
 CANNOT tell, who loves the skeleton 
 Of a poor marmoset; nought but boan, boan ; 
 Give me a nakednesse, with her cloath's on. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Such, whose white-sattin upper coat of skin, 
 Cut upon velvet rich incarnadin, 1 
 Has yet a body (and of flesh) within. 
 
 m. 
 
 Sure, it is meant good husbandry 2 in men, 
 Who do incorporate with aery leane, 
 T' repair their sides, and get their ribb agen. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Hard hap unto that huntsman, that decrees 
 Fat joys for all his swet, when as he sees, 
 After his 'say, 3 nought but his keepers fees. 
 
 v. 
 
 Then, Love, I beg, when next thou tak'st thy bow, 
 Thy angry shafts, and dost heart-chasing go, 
 Passe rascatt deare, strike me the largest doe. 4 
 
 1 L e. Carnation hue, a species of red. As an adjective, the 
 word is peculiarly rare. 
 
 2 Management or economy. 3 i. e. Essay. 
 
 4 A rascal deer was formerly a well-known term among sports- 
 men, signifying a lean beast, not worth pursuit. Thus in A C. 
 Mery Talys (1525), No. 29, we find: " [they] apoynted thys 
 Welchman to stand still, and forbade him in any wyse to shote 
 
POEMS. 135 
 
 A LA BOUKBON. 
 
 DONE MOY PLUS DE PITIE OU 1 PLUS DE CREAULTE, CAR 
 
 SANS CI IE NE PUIS PAS VIURE, NE MORIB. 
 
 I. 
 
 IVINE Destroyer, pitty me no more, 
 
 Or else more pitty me ; 2 
 Give me more love, ah, quickly give me more, 
 Or else more cruelty ! 
 For left thus as I am, 
 My heart is ice and flame ; 
 And languishing thus, I 
 Can neither live nor dye ! 
 
 IT. 
 
 Your glories are eclipst, and hidden in the grave 
 Of this indifferency ; 
 
 at no rascal dere, but to make sure of the greate male, and spare 
 not." In the new edition of Nares, other and more recent 
 examples of the employment of the term are given. But in the 
 Book of Saint Albans, 1486, Rascal is used in the signification 
 merely of a beast other than one of " enchace." 
 
 " And where that ye come in playne or in place, 
 I shall you tell whyche ben bestys of enchace. 
 One of them is the bucke : a nother is the doo : 
 The foxe and the marteron : and the wylde roo. 
 And ye shall, my dere chylde, other bestys all, 
 Where so ye theym finde, Rascall ye shall them call " 
 
 1 Original reads au. 
 
 2 In his poem entitled " Mediocrity in Love rejected," Carew 
 has a similar sentiment : 
 
136 POEMS. 
 
 And, Cselia, you can neither altars have, 
 Nor I, a Diety : 
 
 They are aspects divine, 
 
 That still or smile, or shine, 
 Or, like th' offended sky, 
 Frowne death immediately. 
 
 THE FAIRE BEGGER. 
 
 i. 
 OMANDING asker, if it be 
 
 Pity that you faine would have, 
 Then I turne begger unto thee, 
 
 And aske the thing that thou dost crave. 
 I will suffice thy hungry need, 
 So thou wilt but my fancy feed. 
 
 ii. 
 
 In all ill yeares, was 1 ever knowne 
 On so much beauty such a dearth ? 
 
 " Give me more Love, or more Disdain, 
 The Torrid, or the Frozen Zone, 
 Bring equall ease unto my paine ; 
 The Temperate affords me none : 
 Either extreme, of Love, or Hate, 
 Is sweeter than a calme estate." 
 
 CAREW'S Poems, ed. 1651, p. 14. 
 
 And so also Stanley (Ayres and Dialogues, set by J. Gamble, 
 1656, p. 20): 
 
 " So much of absence and delay, 
 That thus afflicts my memorie. 
 Why dost thou kill me every day, 
 Yet will not give me leave to die ? " 
 1 Original reads wa'st . 
 
POEMS. 137 
 
 Which, in that thrice-bequeathed gowne, 
 Lookes like the Sun eclipst with Earth, 
 Like gold in canvas, or with dirt 
 Unsoyled Ermins close begirt. 
 
 in. 
 Yet happy he, that can but tast 
 
 This whiter skin, who thirsty is ! 
 Fooles dote on sattin 1 motions lac'd : 
 
 The gods go naked in their blisse. 
 At 2 th' barrell's head there shines the vine, 
 There only relishes the wine. 
 
 IV. 
 
 There quench my heat, and thou shalt sup 
 Worthy the lips that it must touch, 
 
 Nectar from out the starry cup : 
 I beg thy breath not halfe so much. 
 
 So both our wants supplied shall be, 
 
 You'l give for love, I, charity. 
 
 v. 
 Cheape then are pearle-imbroderies, 
 
 That not adorne, but cloud 3 thy wast ; 
 Thou shalt be cloath'd above all prise, 
 
 If thou wilt promise me imbrac't. 4 
 
 1 Satin seems to have been much in vogue about this time as 
 . material for female dress. 
 
 " Their glory springs from sattin, 
 
 Their vanity from feather." 
 t description of woman in Wits Interpreter, 1662, p. 115. 
 
 2 Original has and. 3 Original reads clouds. 
 * i.e. to be embraced. 
 
138 POEMS. 
 
 Wee'l ransack neither chest or shelfe : 
 111 cover thee with mine owne selfe. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But, cruel, if thou dost deny 
 This necessary almes to me, 
 
 What soft-soul'd man hut with his eye 
 And hand will hence he shut to thee ? 
 
 Since all must judge you more unkinde : 
 
 I starve your hody, you, my minde. 
 
 [A DIALOGUE BETWIXT COED ANUS 
 AMOEET, ON A LOST HEAET. 
 
 Cordanus. 
 
 ;ISTEESSED pilgrim, whose dark clou( 
 
 eyes 
 
 Speak thee a martyr to love's cruelties, 
 Whither away ? 
 Amor. What pitying voice I hear, 
 
 Calls back my flying steps ? 
 
 Cord. Pr'ythee, draw near. 
 
 Amor. I shall but say, kind swain, what doth become 
 Of a lost heart, ere to Elysium 
 It wounded walks ? 
 
 Cord. First, it does freely flye 
 
 Into the pleasures of a lover's eye ; 
 But, once condemn'd to scorn, it fetter'd lies, 
 An ever-bowing slave to tyrannies. 
 
POEMS. 139 
 
 [mor. I pity its sad fate, since its offence 
 
 Was but for love. Can 1 tears recall it thence ? 
 f ord. O no, such tears, as do for pity call, 
 
 She proudly scorns, and glories at their fall. 
 .mor. Since neither sighs nor tears, kind shepherd, tell, 
 
 Will not a kiss prevail ? 
 'ord. Thou may'st as well 
 
 Court Eccho with a kiss. 
 .mor. Can no art move 
 
 A sacred violence to make her love ? 
 'ord. O no ! 'tis only Destiny or 2 Fate 
 
 Fashions our wills either to love or hate. 
 .mor. Then, captive heart, since that no humane spell 
 
 Hath power to graspe thee his, farewell. 
 'ore?. 3 Farewell. 
 
 'ho. Lost hearts, like lambs drove from their folds 
 by fears, 
 
 May back return by chance, but not 4 by tears.] 5 
 
 1 So Cotgrave. Lawes, and after him Singer, read can't. 
 * So Cotgrave. Lawes and Singer read and. 
 
 3 Omitted by Lawes and Singer ; I follow Cotgrave. 
 
 4 So Cotgrave. Lawes printed ne'er. 
 
 5 This is taken from Ayres and Dialogues for One, Two, and 
 hree Voyces, By Henry Lawes, 1653-5-8, where it is set to 
 osic for two trebles by H. L. It was not included in the 
 sthumous collection of Lovelace's poems. This dialogue is 
 30 found in Wits Interpreter, by J. Cotgrave, 1662, 8vo, page 
 3 (first printed in 1655), and a few improved readings have 
 en adopted from that text. 
 
140 POEMS. 
 
 COMMENDATORY AND OTHER VERSES,, 
 
 PREFIXED TO VARIOUS PUBLICATIONS 
 
 BETWEEN 1638 AND 1647. 
 
 AN ELEGIE. 
 
 PRINCESSE KATHERINE l BORNE, CHRISTENED, 
 BURIED, IN ONE DAY. 
 
 [OU,that can haply 2 mixe jour jojes with cri( 
 And weave white los with black Elegies, 
 Can caroll out a dirge, and in one breath | 
 Sing to the tune either of life, or death ; 
 You, that can weepe the gladnesse of the spheres, 
 And pen a hymne, in stead of inke, with teares ; 
 Here, here your unproportion'd wit let fall, 
 To celebrate this new-borne funerall, 
 And greete that little greatnesse, which from th' woml 
 Dropt both a load to th* cradle and the tombe. 
 
 1 All historical and genealogical works are deficient in mini 
 information relative to the family of Charles I. Even in Ande 
 son's Royal Genealogies, 1732, and in the folio editions of Rap 
 and Tindal, these details are overlooked. At page 36 of h 
 Descendants of the Stuarts, 1858, Mr. Townend observes th 
 two of the children of Charles I. died in infancy, and of the> 
 the Princesse Katherine, commemorated by Lovelace, was pe 
 haps one. The present verses were originally printed in Hfus 
 rum Oxoniensium Charisteria, Oxon. 1638, 4to, from which a fe 
 better readings have been obtained. With the exceptio 
 mentioned in the notes, the variations of the earlier text fro 
 that found here are merely literal. 
 
 2 This reading from Charisteria, 1638, seems preferable 
 aptly, as it stands in the Lucasta. 
 
POEMS. 141 
 
 Bright soule ! teach us, to warble with what feet 
 :*hj swathing linnen and thy winding sheet, 
 Peepe, 1 or shout forth that fonts solemnitie, 
 Vhich at once christn'd and buried 2 thee, 
 jid change our shriller passions with that sound, 
 'irst told thee into th' ayre, then to 3 the ground. 
 
 Ah, wert thou borne for this ? only to call 
 Tie King and Queen guests to your buriall ! 
 ?o bid good night, your day not yet begun, 
 uid shew 4 a setting, ere a rising sun ! 
 
 Or wouldst thou have thy life a martyrdom ? 
 )ye in the act of thy religion, 
 fit, excellently, innocently good, 
 Tirst sealing it with water, then thy blood ? 
 is when on blazing wings a blest man sores, 
 bid having past to God through fiery dores, 
 Straight 's roab'd with flames, when the same elemen 
 SThich was his shame, proves now his ornament ; 
 Dh, how he hast'ned death, burn't to be fryed, 5 
 fQll'd twice with each delay, till deified. 
 
 ' So the Charisteria. The reading in Lucasta is mourite. 
 ; 9 In Lucasta the reading is buried, and christened. 
 
 3 This word is omitted in the Lucasta ; it is here supplied from 
 the Charisteria. 
 
 4 Lucasta reads showe's. Shew, as printed in Charisteria, is 
 clearly the true word. 
 
 5 i. e. freed. Free and freed were sometimes formerly pro- 
 nounced like fry and fryed : for Lord North, in his Forest of 
 Varieties, 1645, has these lines 
 
 " Birds that long have lived free, 
 
 Caught and cag'd, but pine and die." 
 Here evidently free is intended to rhyme with die. 
 
142 POEMS. 
 
 So swift hath been thy race, so full of flight, 
 Like him condemn'd, ev'n aged with a night, 
 Cutting all lets with clouds, as if th' hadst been 
 Like angels plum'd, and borne a Cherubin. 
 
 Or, in your journey towards heav'n, say, 
 Tooke you the world a little in your way ? 
 Saw'st and dislik'st its vaine pompe, then didst flye 
 Up for eternall glories to the skye ? 
 Like a religious ambitious one, 
 Aspiredst for the everlasting crowne ? 
 
 Ah ! holy traytour to your brother prince, 
 Rob'd of his birth-right and preheminence ! 
 Could you ascend yon' chaire of state e're him, 
 And snatch from th' heire the starry diadem ? 
 Making your honours now as much uneven, 
 As gods on earth are lesse then saints in heav'n. 
 
 Triumph ! sing triumphs, then ! Oh, put on all 
 Your richest lookes, drest for this festivall ! 
 Thoughts full of ravisht reverence, with eyes 
 So fixt, as when a saint we canonize ; 
 Clap wings with Seraphins before the throne 
 At this eternall coronation, 
 
 And teach your soules new mirth, such as may be 
 Worthy this birth-day to divinity. 
 
 But ah ! these blast your feasts, the jubilies 
 We send you up are sad, as were our cries, 
 And of true joy we can expresse no more 
 Thus crown'd, then when we buried thee before. 
 
 Princesse in heav'n, forgivenes ! whilst we 
 Resigne our office to the Hierarchy. 
 
 
POEMS. 143 
 
 CLITOPHON AND LUCIPPE TRANSLATED. 1 
 TO THE LADIES. 
 
 RAY, ladies, breath, awhile lay by 
 Cselestial Sydney's Arcady ; 2 
 Heere's a story that doth claime 
 A little respite from his flame : 
 
 1 Achillis Tatii Alexandria! De Ludppes et Clitophontis Amo~ 
 ribus Libri Octo. The translation of this celebrated work, to 
 which Lovelace contributed the commendatory verses here re- 
 published, was executed by his friend Anthony Hodges, A.M., of 
 New College, Oxford, and was printed at Oxford in 1638, 8vo. 
 There had been already a. translation by W. Burton, purporting 
 to be done from the Greek, in 1597, 4to. The text of 1649 and 
 that of 1638 exhibit so many variations, that the reader may be 
 glad to have the opportunity of comparison : 
 
 " To the Ladies. 
 " Fair ones, breathe : a while lay by 
 
 Blessed Sidney's Arcady : 
 
 Here's a story that will make 
 
 You not repent him to forsake ; 
 
 And with your dissolving looke 
 
 Vntie the contents of this booke ; 
 
 To which nought (except your sight) 
 Can give a worthie epithite. 
 'Tis an abstract of all volumes, 
 A pillaster of all columnes 
 Fancie e r re rear'd to wit, to be 
 Little Love's epitome, 
 And compactedly expresse 
 All lovers happy wretchednesse. 
 
 " Brave Pamela's majestie 
 And her sweet sister's modestie 
 Are fixt in each of you, you are 
 Alone, what these together were : 
 
144 POEMS. 
 
 Then with a quick dissolving looke 
 Unfold the srnootlmes of this book, 
 
 Divinest, that are really 
 What Cariclea's feigu'd to be ; 
 That are every one, the Nine ; 
 And on earth Astraeas shine ; 
 Be our Leucippe, and remains 
 In her, all these o're againe. 
 
 " Wonder ! Xoble CHtophon 
 Me thinkes lookes somewhat colder on 
 His beauteous mistresse, and she too 
 Smiles not as she us'd to doe. 
 See ! the individuall payre 
 Are at oddes and parted are ; 
 Quarrel, emulate, and stand 
 At strife, who first shall kisse your hand. 
 
 " A new warre e're while arose 
 'Twixt the Greekes and Latines, whose 
 Temples should be bound with glory 
 In best languaging this story : 
 You, that with one lovely smile 
 A ten-yeares warre can reconcile ; 
 Peacefull Hellens awfull see 
 The jarring languages agree, 
 And here all armes laid by, they doe 
 Meet in English to court you." 
 
 Rich. Lovelace, Ma: AT: A: Glou: Eq: Ai 
 Fil: Xat: Max. 
 
 See HalliwelPs Dictionary of Old Plays, 1860, art. Clytophon. 
 2 There can be no doubt that Sidney's Arcadia was fornw 
 as popular in its way among the readers of both sexes as 
 Richard Baker's Chronicle appears to have been. The fo 
 was especially recommended to those who sought occs 
 relaxation from severer studies. See Higford's Institutions, H 
 8vo, p. 46-7. In his poem of The Surprize, Cotton descril 
 nymph as reading the Arcadia on the bank of a river 
 
POEMS. 145 
 
 To which no art (except your sight) 
 Can reach a worthy epithite ; 
 *Tis an abstract of all volumes, 
 A pillaster of all columnes 
 Fancy e're rear'd to wit, to be 
 The smallest gods epitome, 
 And so compactedly expresse 
 All lovers pleasing wretchednes. 
 
 Gallant Pamela's 1 majesty 
 And her sweet sisters modesty 
 Are fixt in each of you; you are, 
 Distinct, what these together were ; 
 Divinest, that are really 
 What Cariclea's 2 feign'd to be ; 
 That are ev'ry one the Nine, 
 And brighter here Astreas shine ; 
 View our Lucippe, and remaine 
 In her, these beauties o're againe. 
 
 Amazement! Noble Clitophon 
 Ev'n now lookt somewhat colder on 
 
 " The happy object of her eye 
 Was Sidney's living Arcady ; 
 Whose amorous tale had so betrai'd 
 Desire in this all-lovely maid ; 
 That, whilst her cheek a blush did warm, 
 I read Loves story in her form." 
 
 Poems on Several Occasions. By Charles 
 
 Cotton, Esq. Lond. 1689, 8vo, p. 392. 
 1 The Pamela of Sydney's Arcadia. 
 
 8 The allusion is to the celebrated story of Theagenes and 
 Ihariclea, which was popular in this country at an early period. 
 . drama on the subject was performed before the Court in 1574. 
 L 
 
146 POEMS. 
 
 His cooler mistresse, and she too 
 
 Smil'd not as she us'd to do. 
 
 See ! the individuall payre 
 
 Are at sad oddes, and parted are ; 
 
 They quarrell, semulate, and stand 
 
 At strife, who first shal kisse your hand. 
 
 A new dispute there lately rose 
 Betwixt the Greekes and Latines, whose 
 Temples should be hound with glory, 
 In best languaging this story ; l 
 
 Yee heyres of love, that with one smile 
 A ten-yeeres war can reconcile ; 
 
 Peacefull Hellens ! Vertuous ! See : 
 
 The jarring languages agree ! 
 
 And here, ah 1 armes layd by, they doe 
 
 In English meet to wayt on you. 
 
 TO MY TRITELY VALIANT, LEARNED FRIEND ; WHO 
 
 IN HIS BOOKE 2 RESOLV'D THE ART GLADI- 
 
 ATORY INTO THE MATHEMATICKS. 
 
 I. 
 EAKKE, reader ! wilt be learn'd ith' warres 
 
 A gen'rall in a gowne ? 
 Strike a league with arts and scarres, 
 And snatch from each a crowne ? 
 
 1 Lovelace refers, it may be presumed, to an edition ofAchil, 
 Tatius, in which the Greek text was printed with a Lat 
 translation. 
 
 2 " Pallas Armata. The Gentlemen's Armorie. Whe 
 
POEMS. 147 
 
 n. 
 Wouldst be a wonder ? Such a one, 
 
 As should win with a looke ? 
 A bishop in a garison, 
 
 And conquer by the booke ? 
 
 m. 
 Take then this mathematick shield, 
 
 And henceforth by its rules 
 Be able to dispute ith' field, 
 
 And combate in the schooles. 
 
 right and genuine use of the Rapier and of the Sword, as well 
 igainst the right handed as against the left handed man * is dis- 
 played.' [By G. A.] London, 1639, 8vo. With several illus- 
 trative woodcuts." The lines, as originally printed in Pallas 
 drmata, vary from those subsequently admitted into Lucasta. 
 They are as follow : 
 
 TO THE READER. 
 Harke, reader, would'st be learn'd ith' warres, 
 
 A captaine in a gowne ? 
 Strike a league with bookes and starres, 
 And weave of both the crowne ? 
 
 Would'st be a wonder ? Such a one 
 
 As would winne with a looke ? 
 A schollar in a garrison ? 
 
 And conquer by the booke ? 
 
 Take then this mathematick shield, 
 
 And henceforth by its rules, 
 Be able to dispute ith' field, 
 
 And combate in the schooles. 
 
 Whil'st peacefull learning once agen 
 
 And th' souldier do concorde, 
 As that he fights now with her penne, 
 
 And she writes with his sword. 
 
 RICH. LOVELACE, A. Glouces. Ox<m. 
 
148 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Whilst peaceful learning once againe 
 And the souldier so concord, 
 
 As that he fights now with her penne, 
 And she writes with his sword. 
 
 TO FLETCHER EEYIV'D. 1 
 
 W have I bin religious ? what strange good 
 Has scap't me, that I never understood ? 
 Have I hel-guarded Hseresie o'rthrowne? 
 Heald wounded states ? made kings and 
 
 kingdoms one ? 
 
 That Fate should be so merciful to me, 
 To let me live t' have said T have read thee. 
 
 Faire star, ascend ! the joy ! the life ! the light 
 Of this tempestuous age, this darke worlds sight ! 
 Oh, from thy crowne of glory dart one flame 
 May strike a sacred reverence, whilest thy name 
 (Like holy flamens to their god of day) 
 We bowing, sing ; and whilst we praise, we pray. 
 
 Bright spirit ! whose asternal motion 
 Of wit, like Time, stil in it selfe did run, 
 
 1 Fletcher the dramatist fell a victim to the plague of 162; 
 See Aubrey's Lives, vol. 2, part i. p. 352. The verses here n, 
 published were originally prefixed to the first collected edition 
 Beaumont and Fletcher's Tragedies and Comedies, 1647, folio, 
 is scarcely necessary to remind the reader that Lovelace was on' 
 a child when Fletcher died. 
 
POEMS. 149 
 
 Binding all others in it, and did give 
 Commission, how far this or that shal live ; 
 Like Destiny of poems who, as she 
 Signes death to all, her selfe can never dye. 
 
 And now thy purple-robed Traegedy, 1 
 In her imbroider'd buskins, cals mine eye, 
 Where the brave Stills we see betray'd, 
 T' obey his death, whom thousand lives obey'd ; 
 Whilst that the mighty foole his scepter breakes, 
 And through his gen'rals wounds his own doome speakes, 
 Weaving thus richly Valentinian, 
 The costliest monarch with the cheapest man. 
 
 Souldiers may here to their old glories adde, 
 The Lover love, and be with reason mad : 2 
 Not, as of old, Alcides furious, 3 
 Who wilder then his bull did teare the house 
 (Hurling his language with the canvas stone) : 
 Twas thought the monster ror'd the sob'rer tone. 
 
 But ah ! when thou thy sorrow didst inspire 
 With passions, blacke as is her darke attire, 
 
 1 Valentinian, a Tragedy. First printed in the folio of 1647. 
 
 5 The Mad Lover. Also first printed in the folio of 1647. 
 
 3 An allusion to the Hercules Furens of Euripides. Lovelace 
 had, no doubt, some tincture of Greek scholarship (See Wojod's 
 Ath. Ox. ii. 466) ; but as to the extent of his acquirements in 
 this direction, it is hard to speak with confidence. Among the 
 books of Mr. Thomas Jolley, dispersed in 1853, was a copy of 
 Clenardus Institutiones Grcecce Linguae, Lugd. Batav, 1626, 8vo., 
 on the title of which was " Richard Lovelace, 1630, March 5," 
 supposed to be the autograph of the poet when a schoolboy. 
 
150 POEMS. 
 
 Virgins as sufferers have wept to see 
 
 So white a soule, so red a crueltie ; 
 
 That thou hast griev'd, and with unthought redresse 
 
 Dri'd their wet eyes who now thy mercy hlesse ; 
 
 Yet, loth to lose thy watry Jewell, when 
 
 Joy wip't it off, laughter straight sprung't agen. 
 
 Now ruddy cheeked Mirth with rosie wings 1 
 Fans ev'ry brow with gladnesse, whilst she sings 
 Delight to all, and the whole theatre 
 A festivall in heaven doth appeare : 
 Nothing hut pleasure, love ; and (like the morne) 
 Each face a gen'ral smiling doth adorne. 
 
 
 Heare ye, foul speakers, that pronounce the aire 
 Of stewes and shores, 2 I will informe you where 
 And how to cloath aright your wanton wit, 
 Without her nasty bawd attending it : 3 
 View here a loose thought sayd with such a grace, 
 Minerva might have spoke in Venus face ; 
 So well disguis'd, that 'twas conceiv'd by none 
 But Cupid had Diana's linnen on ; 
 And ah 1 his naked parts so vail'd, th' expresse 
 The shape with clowding the uncomlinesse ; 
 That if this Reformation, which we 
 Keceiv'd, had not been buried with thee, 
 
 1 In the margin of the copy of 1647, against these lines is 
 written " Comedies : The Spanish Curate, The Humorous Lieu- 
 tenant, The Tamer Tamed, The Little French Lawyer." 
 
 2 Sewers. 
 
 3 The Custome of the Countrey Marginal note in the copy of 
 1647. 
 
 
POEMS. 151 
 
 The stage (as this worke) might have liv'd and lov'd 
 Her lines, the austere Skarlet 1 had approv'd ; 
 And th' actors wisely been from that offence 
 As cleare, as they are now from audience. 2 
 
 Thus with thy Genius did the sca?ne expire, 3 
 Wanting thy active and correcting fire, 
 That now (to spread a darknesse over all) 
 Nothing remain es but Poesie to fall : 
 And though from these thy Embers we receive 
 Some warmth, so much as may be said, we live ; 
 That we dare praise thee blushlesse, in the head 
 Of the best piece Hermes to Love 4 e're read ; 
 That we rejoyce and glory in thy wit, 
 And feast each other with remembring it ; 
 That we dare speak thy thought, thy acts recite : 
 Yet all men henceforth be afraid to write. 
 
 1 Querj-, Laud. 
 
 2 These lines refer to the prohibition published by the Par- 
 liament against the performance of stage- plays and interludes. 
 The first ordinance appeared in 1642, but that not being found 
 effectual, a more stringent measure was enacted in 1647, direc- 
 ting, under the heaviest penalties, the total and immediate abo- 
 lition of theatricals. 
 
 3 i. e. The scenic drama. The original meaning of scene was a 
 wooden stage for the representation of plays, &c., and it is here 
 used therefore in its primitive sense. 
 
 4 In the old mythology of Greece, Cupid is the pupil of Mer- 
 cury or Hermes; or, in other words, Love is instructed by 
 Eloquence and Wit. 
 
L U C A S T A, 
 
 Pofthume 
 
 POEMS 
 
 OF 
 
 Richard Lovelace Efq ; 
 
 Thofe Honours come too late. 
 That on our Afhes waite. 
 
 Mart. lib. i. Epig. 26. 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 Printed by William Godbid for 
 
 Clement Darby. 
 
 1659. 
 
THE DEDICATION. 
 
 TO THE EIGHT HONORABLE JOHN 
 LOVELACE, ESQUIRE. 1 
 
 UCASTA (fair, but hapless maid !) 
 Once flourisht underneath the shade 
 Of your illustrious Mother ; now, 
 An orphan grown, she bows to you ! 
 To you, her vertues' noble heir ; 
 Oh may she find protection there ! 
 Nor let her welcome be the less, 
 'Cause a rough hand makes her address : 
 One (to whom foes the Muses are) 
 Bora and bred up in rugged war : 
 
 1 This gentleman was the eldest son of John, second Lord 
 Lovelace of Hurley, co. Berks, by Anne, daughter of Thomas, 
 Earl of Cleveland. The first part of Lucasta was inscribed by 
 the poet himself to Lady Lovelace, his mother. 
 
156 DEDICATION. 
 
 For, conscious how unfit I am, 
 I only have pronounc'd her name 
 To waken pity in your brest, 
 And leave her tears to plead the rest. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 Your most obedient 
 
 Servant and kinsman 
 DUDLEY POSTHUMUS -LOVELACE. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 TO LVCASTA. 
 HER RESERVED LOOKS. 
 
 SUC AST A, frown, and let me die, 
 
 But smile, and see, I live ; 
 The sad indifference of your eve 
 Both kills and doth reprieve. 
 You hide our fate within its screen ; 
 
 We feel our judgment, ere we hear. 
 So in one picture I have seen 
 An angel here, the devil there. 
 
 LUCASTA LAUGHING. 
 
 EAKK, how she laughs aloud, 
 Although the world put on its shrowd 
 Wept at by the fantastic crowd, 
 Who cry : one drop, let fall 
 From her, might save the universal ball. 
 
 She laughs again 
 At our ridiculous pain ; 
 And at our merry misery 
 She laughs, until she cry. 
 
158 POEMS. 
 
 Sages, forbear 
 That ill- contrived tear, 
 
 Although your fear 
 
 Doth harricado hope from your soft ear. 
 That which still makes her mirth to flow, 
 
 Is our sinister-handed woe, 
 Which downwards on its head doth go, 
 And, ere that it is sown, doth grow. 
 This makes her spleen contract, 
 
 And her just pleasure feast : 
 For the unjustest act 
 
 Is still the pleasant'st jest. 
 
 NIGHT. ) 
 
 TO LUCASTA. 
 
 IGHT ! loathed jaylor of the lock'd up sun, 
 And tyrant-turnkey on committed day,, 
 Bright eyes lye fettered in thy dungeon,, 
 And Heaven it self doth thy dark wards 
 
 obey. 
 
 Thou dost arise our living hell ; 
 With thee grones, terrors, furies dwell ; 
 
 Until Lucasta doth awake, 
 And with her beams these heavy chains off shake. 
 
 Behold ! with opening her almighty lid, 
 Bright eyes break rowling, and with lustre spread, 
 And captive day his chariot mounted is ; 
 
POEMS. 159 
 
 Night to her proper hell is beat, 
 And screwed to her ebon seat ; 
 Till th' Earth with play oppressed lies, 
 
 drawes again the curtains of her eyes. 
 
 But, bondslave, I know neither day nor night ; 
 
 Whether she murth'ring sleep, or saving wake ; 
 Now broyl'd ith' zone of her reflected light, 
 Then frose, my isicles, not sinews shake. 
 Smile then, new Nature, your soft blast 
 Doth melt our ice, and fires waste ; 
 WhiTst the scorch'd shiv'ring world new bora 
 Now feels it all the day one rising morn. 
 
 LOVE INTHRON'D. 
 ODE. 
 
 T - 
 
 NTKOTH, I do my self perswade, 
 
 That the wilde boy is grown a man, v 
 And all his childishnesse off laid, * 
 
 E're since Lucasta did his fires fan ; <. 
 H' has left his apish jigs, 
 And whipping hearts like gigs : 
 For t' other day I heard him swear, 
 That beauty should be crown'd in honours chair. 
 
 n. 
 With what a true and heavenly state 
 
 He doth his glorious darts dispence, 
 Now cleans'd from falshood, blood and hate, 
 
 And newly tipt with innocence ! 
 
160 POEMS. 
 
 Love Justice is become, 
 And doth the cruel doome ; 
 Reversed is the old decree ; 
 Behold ! he sits inthron'd with majestic. 
 
 m. 
 Inthroned in Lucasta's eye, 
 
 He doth our faith and hearts survey ; 
 Then measures them by sympathy, 
 And each to th' others breast convey ; 
 Whilst to his altars now 
 The frozen vestals bow, 
 And strickt Diana too doth go 
 A-hunting with his fear'd, exchanged bow. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Th' imbracing seas and ambient air 
 
 Now in his holy fires burn ; 
 Fish couple, birds and beasts in pair 
 Do their own sacrifices turn. 
 This is a miracle, 
 That might religion swell ; 
 But she, that these and their god awes, 
 Her crowned self submits to her own laws. 
 
 HEE MUFFE. 
 
 WAS not for some calm blessing to deceive. 
 Thou didst thy polish'd hands in shagg'd 
 
 furs weave ; 
 
 It were no blessing thus obtain'd ; 
 Thou rather would'st a curse have gain'd, 
 Then let thy warm driven snow be ever stain'd. 
 
POEMS. 161 
 
 ii. 
 
 Not that you feared the discolo'ring cold 
 
 Might alchymize their silver into gold ; 
 Nor could jour ten white nuns so sin, 
 That you should thus pennance them in, 
 
 Each in her coarse hair smock of discipline. 
 
 m. 
 
 Nor, Hero-like who, on their crest still wore 
 
 A lyon, panther, leopard, or a bore, 
 To looke their enemies in their herse, 
 Thou would'st thy hand should deeper pierce, 
 
 And, in its softness rough, appear more fierce. 
 
 IV. 
 
 No, no, Lucasta, destiny decreed, 
 
 That beasts to thee a sacrifice should bleed, 
 
 And strip themselves to make you gay : 
 
 For ne'r yet herald did display 
 
 coat, where sables upon ermin lay. 
 
 v. 
 
 This for lay-lovers, that must stand at dore, 
 Salute the threshold, and admire no more ; 
 
 But I, in my invention tough, 
 
 Bate not this outward bliss enough, 
 But still contemplate must the hidden muffe. 
 
162 POEMS. 
 
 A BLACK PATCH 1 ON LUCASTA'S FACE. 
 
 ULL as I was, to think that a court fly 
 Presum'd so neer her eye ; 
 When 'twas th' industrious bee 
 Mistook her glorious face for paradise, 
 To summe up all his chymistry of spice ; 
 With a brave pride and honour led, 
 Neer both her suns he makes his bed, 
 And, though a spark, struggles to rise as red. 
 
 1 The following is a poet's lecture to the ladies of his time o!j 
 the long prevailing practice of wearing patches, in which it seenr 
 that Lucasta acquiesced : 
 
 BLACK PATCHES. 
 
 Vanitas Vanitatum. 
 
 LADIES turn conjurers, and can impart 
 The hidden mystery of the black art, 
 Black artificial patches do betray ; 
 They more affect the works of night than day. 
 The creature strives the Creator to disgrace, 
 By patching that which is a perfect face : 
 A little stain upon the purest dye 
 Is both offensive to the heart and eye. 
 Defile not then with spots that face of snow, 
 Where the wise God His workmanship doth show, 
 The light of nature and the light of grace 
 Is the complexion for a lady's face. 
 
 Flamma sine Fumo, by R. Watkyns, 1662, p. 81.1 
 
 In a poem entitled The Bursse of Reformation, in praise of t 
 
 New Exchange, printed in Wit Restored, 1658, patches are en| 
 
 merated among the wares of all sorts to be procured there : \ 
 
 " Heer patches are of every cut, 
 
 For pimples and for scars." 
 
POEMS. 163 
 
 Then semulates the gay 
 
 Daughter of day ; 
 Acts the romantick phoenix' fate, 
 When now, with all his sweets lay'd out in state, 
 
 Lucasta scatters but one heat, 
 And all the aromatick pills do sweat, 
 And gums calcin'd themselves to powder beat, 
 Which a fresh gale of air 
 Conveys into her hair ; 
 Then chaft, he's set on fire, 
 And in these holy flames doth glad expire ; 
 And that black marble tablet there 
 
 So neer her either sphere 
 Was plac'd ; nor foyl, nor ornament, 
 But the sweet little bee's large monument. 
 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 i. 
 
 S I beheld a winter's evening air, 
 Curl'd in her court-false-locks of living hair, 
 Butter'd with jessamine the sun left there. 
 
 Fhey were also used for rheum, as appears from a passage in 
 Westward Hoe, 1607; 
 
 " Judith. I am so troubled with the rheum too. Mouse, what's 
 joodfor it? 
 
 Honey. How often I have told you you must get a patch." 
 WEBSTER'S Works, ed. Hazlitt, i. 87. See DURFET'S Pills 
 
 to Purge Melancholy, v. 197. 
 
 " Mrs. Pepys wore patches, and so did my Lady Sandwich and 
 r daughter." Diary, 30 Aug. and 20 Oct. 1660. 
 
164 POEMS. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Galliard and clinquant she appear'd to give, 
 A serenade or ball to us that grieve, 
 And teach us a la mode more gently live. 
 
 in. 
 
 But as a Moor, who to her cheeks prefers 
 White spots, t' allure her Mack idolaters, 
 Me thought she look'd all ore-bepatch'd with stars. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Like the dark front of some Ethiopian queen, 
 Vailed all ore with gems of red, blew, green, 
 Whose ugly night seem'd masked with days skreen. 
 
 v. 
 
 Whilst the fond people offer'd sacrifice 
 To saphyrs, 'stead of veins and arteries, 
 And bow'd unto the diamonds, not her eyes. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Behold Lucasta's face, how't glows like noon ! 
 
 A sun intire is her complexion, 
 
 And form'd of one whole constellation. 
 
 So gently shining, so serene, so cleer, 
 Her look doth universal Mature cheer ; 
 Only a cloud or two hangs here and there. 
 
POEMS. 165 
 
 TO LUCASTA. 
 
 i. 
 
 LAUGH and sing, but cannot tell 
 Whether the folly on't sounds well ; 
 But then I groan, 
 Methinks, in tune ; 
 Whilst grief, despair and fear dance to the air 
 Of my despised prayer. 
 
 ii. 
 
 A pretty antick love does this, 
 Then strikes a galliard with a kiss ; 
 As in the end 
 The chords they rend ; 
 So you but with a touch from your fair hand 
 Turn all to saraband. 
 
 TO LUCASTA. 
 
 IKE to the sent'nel stars, I watch all night ; 
 For still the grand round of your light 
 
 And glorious breast 
 Awake 1 in me an east : 
 Nor will my rolling eyes ere know a west. 
 
 1 Original has awakes. 
 
166 POEMS. 
 
 n. 
 
 Now on iny down I'm toss'd as on a wave, 
 And my repose is made my grave ; 
 
 Fluttering I lye, 
 Do beat my self and dye, 
 But for a resurrection from your eye. 
 
 m. 
 
 Ah, my fair murdresse ! dost thou cruelly heal 
 With various pains to make me well? 
 
 Then let me be 
 Thy cut anatomie, 
 And in each mangled part my heart you'l see. 
 
 LUCASTA AT THE BATH. J 
 
 i. 
 
 ' TH' autumn of a summer's day, 
 When all the winds got leave to play, 
 Lucasta, that fair ship, is lanch'd, 
 And from its crust this almond blanch'd. 
 
 n. 
 
 Blow then, unruly northwind, blow, 
 'Till in their holds your eyes you stow ; 
 And swell your cheeks, bequeath chill death ; 
 See ! she hath smil'd thee out of breath. 
 
 in. 
 
 Court, gentle zephyr, court and fan 
 Her softer breast's carnation wan ; 
 Your charming rhethorick of down 
 Flyes scatter' d from before her frown. 
 
POEMS. 167 
 
 IV. 
 
 Say, my white water-lilly, say, 
 How is't those warm streams break away, 
 Cut by thy chast cold breast, which dwells 
 Amidst them ann'd in isicles ? 
 
 v. 
 
 And the hot floods, more raging grown, 
 In flames of thee then in their own, 
 In their distempers wildly glow, 
 And kisse thy pillar of fix'd snow. 
 
 VI. 
 
 No sulphur, through whose each blew vein 
 The thick and lazy currents strein, 
 Can cure the smarting nor the fell 
 Blisters of love, wherewith they swell. 
 
 VII. 
 
 These great physicians of the blind, 
 The lame, and fatal blains of Inde 
 In every drop themselves now see 
 Speckled with a new leprosie. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 As sick drinks are with old wine dash'd, 
 Foul waters too with spirits wash'd, 
 Thou greiv'd, perchance, one tear let'st fall, 
 Which straight did purifie them all. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And now is cleans'd enough the flood, 
 Which since runs cleare as doth thy blood ; 
 Of the wet pearls uncrown thy hair, 
 And mantle thee with ermin air. 
 
168 POEMS. 
 
 x. 
 
 Lucasta, hail ! fair conqueresse 
 
 Of fire, air, earth and seas ! 
 
 Thou whom all kneel to, yet even thou 
 
 Wilt unto love, thy captive, bow. 
 
 THE ANT. 1 
 
 i OKBEAB, thou great good husband, little 
 
 ant; 
 
 A little respite from thy flood of sweat ! 
 Thou, thine own horse and cart under this 
 
 plant, 
 
 Thy spacious tent, fan thy prodigious heat ; 
 Down with thy double load of that one grain ! 
 It is a granarie for all thy train. 
 
 1 A writer in Censura Literaria, x. 292 (first edit.) the late 
 E. V. Utterson, Esq. highly praises this little poem, and says, 
 that it is not unworthy of Cowper. I think it highly probable 
 that the translation from Martial (lib. vi. Ep. 15), at the end 
 of the present volume, was executed prior to the composition of 
 these lines ; and that the latter were suggested by the former. 
 Compare the beautiful description of the ant in the Proverbs of 
 Solomon: " Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways 1 
 and be wise : which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, pro-' 
 videth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in thei 
 harvest. Proverbs, vi. 6-8. 
 
 In the poems of John Cleveland, 1669, is a piece entitled " Fus- 
 cara, or the Bee Errant," which is of a somewhat similar character, 
 and is by no means a contemptible production, though spoiled by 
 
POEMS. 169 
 
 H. 
 
 Cease, large example of wise thrift, awhile ]/ 
 
 (For thy example is become our law), 
 And teach thy frowns a seasonable smile : 
 
 So Cato sometimes the nak'd Florals saw. 1 
 And thou, almighty foe, lay by thy sting, 
 Whilst thy unpay'd musicians, crickets, sing. 
 
 in. 
 Lucasta, she that holy makes the day, 
 
 And 'stills new life in fields of fueillemort, 2 
 Hath back restor'd their verdure with one ray, 
 
 And with her eye bid all to play and sport, 
 Ant, to work still ! age will thee truant call ; 
 And to save now, th'art worse than prodigal. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Austere and cynick ! not one hour t' allow, 
 
 To lose with pleasure, what thou gotst with pain ; 
 
 But drive on sacred festivals thy plow, 
 
 Tearing high-ways with thy ore-charged wain. 
 
 Not all thy life-time one poor minute live, 
 
 And thy ore-labour'd bulk with mirth relieve ? 
 
 that lues alchymistica which disfigures so much of the poetry of 
 Cleveland's time. The abilities of Cleveland as a writer seem to 
 have been underrated by posterity, in proportion to the undue 
 praise lavished upon him by his contemporaries. 
 
 1 The Floralia, games antiently celebrated at Eome in honour 
 of Flora. 
 
 2 Here used for dead or faded vegetation, but strictly it means 
 dead or faded leaf. Fikmort is another form of the same word. 
 
170 POEMS. 
 
 v. 
 Look up then, miserable ant, and spie 
 
 Thy fatal foes, for breaking of their 1 law, 
 Hov'ring above thee : Madam Margaret Pie : 
 
 And her fierce servant, meagre Sir John Daw : 
 Thy self and storehouse now they do store up, 
 And thy whole harvest too within their crop. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thus we unt[h]rifty thrive within earth's tomb 
 For some more rav'nous and ambitious jaw : 
 
 The grain in th' ant's, the ant 2 in the pie's womb, 
 The pie in th' hawk's, the hawk 3 ith' eagle's maw. 
 
 So scattering to hord 'gainst a long day, 
 
 Thinking to save all, we cast all away. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 i. 
 iTRIYE not, vain lover, to be fine ; 
 
 Thy silk's the silk-worm's, and not thine: 
 You lessen to a fly your mistriss' thought, 
 To think it may be in a cobweb caught. 
 What, though her thin transparent lawn 
 Thy heart in a strong net hath drawn : 
 Not all the arms the god of fire ere made 
 Can the soft bulwarks of nak'd love invade. 
 
 1 Original has her. 2 Original reads ants. 
 
 3 Original reads hawks. 
 
POEMS. 171 
 
 n. 
 
 Be truly fine, then, and yourself dress 
 
 In her fair soul's immac'late glass. 
 Then by reflection you may have the bliss 
 Perhaps to see what a true fineness is ; 
 
 When all your gawderies will fit 
 
 Those only that are poor in wit. 
 She that a clinquant outside doth adore, 
 Dotes on a gilded statue and no more. 
 
 IN ALLUSION TO THE FRENCH SONG. 
 
 N* ENTENDEZ VOTTS PAS CE LANGUAGE. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 [HEN understand you not (fair choice) 
 This language without tongue or voice ? 
 
 i. 
 
 How often have my tears 
 Invaded your soft ears, 
 And dropp'd their silent chimes 
 A thousand thousand times ? 
 Whilst echo did your eyes, 
 And sweetly sympathize ; 
 But that the wary lid 
 Their sluces did forbid. 
 
 Cho. Then understand you not (fair choice) 
 This language without tongue or voice ? 
 
172 POEMS. 
 
 ii. 
 
 My arms did plead my wound, 
 Each in the other bound ; 
 Volleys of sighs did crowd, 
 And ring my griefs alowd ; 
 Grones, like a canon-hall, 
 Batter'd the marble wall, 
 That the kind neighb'ring grove 
 Did mutiny for love. 
 
 Cho. T7ien understand you not (fair choice) 
 This language without tongue or voice ? 
 
 in. 
 
 The rheth'rick of my hand 
 Woo'd you to understand ; 
 Nay, in our silent walk 
 My very feet would talk ; 
 My knees were eloquent, 
 And spake the love I meant ; 
 But deaf unto that ayr, 
 They, bent, would fall in prayer. 
 
 Cho. Yet understand you not (fair choice) 
 This language without tongue or voice 1 
 
 IV. 
 
 No ? Know, then, I would melt 
 On every limb I felt, 
 And on each naked part 
 Spread my expanded heart, 
 That not a vein of thee 
 But should be fill'd with mee. 
 
I POEMS. 173 
 
 Whilst on thine own down, I 
 Would tumble, pant, and dye. 
 
 Clio. You understand not this (fair choice) ; 
 
 This language wants both tongue and voice. 
 
 COUEANTE 1 MONSIEUE. 
 
 HAT frown, Aminta, now hath drown'd 
 Thy bright front's pow'r, and crown'd 
 
 Me that was bound. 
 No, no, deceived cruel, no ! 
 
 Love's fiery darts, 
 Till tipt with kisses, never kindle hearts. 
 
 Adieu, weak beauteous tyrant, see ! 
 Thy angry flames meant me, 2 
 Eetort on thee : 
 For know, it is decreed, proud fair, 
 
 I ne'r must dye 
 By any scorching, but a melting, eye. 
 
 1 Courante was a favourite dance and dance-tune. It is still 
 known under the same name. 
 
 2 i. e. that meant me, which was intended for me. 
 
174 POEMS. 
 
 A LOOSE SAKABAKD. 
 
 i. 
 AY, prethee, dear, draw nigher, 
 
 Yet closer, nigher yet ; 
 Here is a double fire, 
 
 A dry one and a wet. 
 True lasting heavenly fuel 
 Puts out the vestal jewel, 
 "When once we twining marry 
 Mad love with wild canary. 
 
 ii. 
 Off with that crowned Venice, 1 
 
 'Till all the house doth flame, 
 Wee'l quench it straight in Khenish, 
 
 Or what we must not name. 
 Milk lightning still asswageth ; 
 So when our fury rageth, 
 As th' only means to cross it, 
 Wee'l drown it in love's posset. 
 
 m. 
 
 Love never was well-wilier 
 
 Unto my nag or mee, 
 Ne'r watter'd us ith' cellar, 
 
 But the cheap buttery. 
 At th' head of his own barrells, 
 Where broach'd are all his quarrels, 
 
 1 Qu. a crowned goblet of Venice glass. 
 
POEMS. 175 
 
 Should a true noble master 
 Still make his guest his taster. 
 
 IV. 
 
 See, all the world how't staggers, 
 
 More ugly drunk then we, 
 As if far gone in daggers 
 
 And blood it seem'd to be. 
 "We drink our glass of roses, 
 Which nought but sweets discloses : 
 Then in our loyal chamber 
 Refresh us with love's amber. 
 
 v. 
 Now tell me, thou fair cripple, 
 
 That dumb canst scarcely see 
 Th' almightinesse of tipple, 
 
 And th' ods 'twixt thee and thee, 
 What of Elizium's missing, 
 Still drinking and still kissing ; 
 Adoring plump October ; 
 Lord ! what is man, and l sober ? 
 
 VI. 
 
 Now, is there such a trifle 
 
 As honour, the fools gyant, 
 What is there left to rifle, 
 
 When wine makes all parts plyant ? 
 Let others glory follow, 
 In their false riches wallow, 
 And with their grief be merry : 
 Leave me but love and sherry. 
 
 1 i. e. if. 
 
176 POEMS. 
 
 V 
 
 THE FALCON. 
 
 AIE Princesse of the spacious air, 
 That hast vouchsaf ' d acquaintance here, 
 With us are quarter'd helow stairs, 
 That can reach heav'n with nought hut 
 
 pray'rs; 
 
 Who, when our activ'st wings we try, 
 Advance a foot into the sky. 
 
 Bright heir t' th' bird imperial, 
 From whose avenging penons fall 
 Thunder and lightning twisted spun ! 
 Brave cousin-german to the Sun ! 
 That didst forsake thy throne and sphere, 
 To he an humhle pris'ner here ; 
 And for a pirch of her soft hand, 
 Resign the royal woods' command. 
 
 How often would'st thou shoot heav'ns ark, 
 Then mount thy self into a lark ; 
 And after our short faint eyes call, 
 When now a fly, now nought at all ! 
 Then stoop so swift unto our sence, 
 As thou wert sent intelligence ! 
 
 Free beauteous slave, thy happy feet 
 In silver fetters vervails 1 meet, 
 And trample on that noble wrist, 
 The gods have kneel'd in vain t' have kist. 
 
 1 i. e. vervels. See Halliwell's Dictionary of Archaic and Pro- 
 vincial Words, art. vervel. 
 
POEMS. 177 
 
 But gaze not, bold deceived spye, 
 Too much oth'. lustre of her eye ; 
 The Sun thou dost out stare, alas ! 
 Winks at the glory of her face. 
 
 Be safe then in thy velvet helm, 
 Her looks are calms that do orewhelm, 
 Then the Arabian bird more blest, 
 Chafe in the spicery of her breast, 
 And loose you in her breath a wind 
 Sow'rs the delicious gales of Inde. 
 
 But now a quill from thine own wing 
 I pluck, thy lofty fate to sing ; 
 Whilst we behold the varions fight 
 With mingled pleasure and affright ; 
 The humbler hinds do fall to pray'r, 
 As when an army's seen i' th' air, 
 And the prophetick spannels run, 
 And howle thy epicedium. 
 
 The heron mounted doth appear 
 On his own Peg'sus a lanceer, 
 And seems, on earth when he doth hut, 
 A proper halberdier on foot ; 
 Secure i' th' moore, about to sup, 
 The dogs have beat his quarters up. 
 
 And now he takes the open air, 
 Drawes up his wings with tactick care ; 
 Whilst th' expert falcon swift doth climbe 
 In subtle mazes serpentine ; 
 And to advantage closely twin'd 
 She gets the upper sky and wind, 
 
 N 
 
178 POEMS. 
 
 Where she dissembles to invade, 
 And lies a pol'tick ambuscade. 
 
 The hedg'd-in heron, whom the foe 
 Awaits above, and dogs below, 
 In his fortification lies, 
 And makes him ready for surprize ; 
 When roused with a shrill alarm, 
 Was shouted from beneath : they arm. 
 
 The falcon charges at first view 
 With her brigade of talons, through 
 Whose shoots, the wary heron beat 
 With a well counterwheel'd retreat. 
 But the bold gen'ral, never lost, 
 Hath won again her airy post ; 
 Who, wild in this affront, now fryes, 
 Then gives a volley of her eyes. 
 
 The desp'rate heron now contracts 
 In one design all former facts ; 
 Noble, he is resolv'd to fall, 
 His and his en'mies funerall, 
 And (to be rid of her) to dy, 
 A publick martyr of the sky. 
 
 When now he turns his last to wreak 
 The palizadoes of his beak, 
 The raging foe impatient, 
 Wrack'd with revenge, and fury rent, 
 Swift as the thunderbolt he strikes 
 Too sure upon the stand of pikes ; 
 
POEMS. 179 
 
 There she his naked breast doth hit, 
 And on the case of rapiers's split. 
 
 But ev'n in her expiring pangs 
 The heron's pounc'd within her phangs, 
 And so ahove she stoops to rise, 
 A trophee and a sacrifice ; 
 Whilst her own hells in the sad fall 
 King out the double funerall. 
 
 Ah, victory, unhap'ly wonne ! 
 Weeping and red is set the Sun ; 
 Whilst the whole field floats in one tear, 
 And all the air doth mourning wear. 
 Close-hooded all thy kindred come 
 To pay their vows upon thy tombe ; 
 The hobby 1 and the musket 2 too 
 Do march to take their last adieu. 
 
 The lanner 3 and the lanneret 4 
 Thy colours bear as banneret ; 
 
 ' ' 
 
 1 A kind of falcon. It is the falco subbuteo of Linnaeus. 
 
 ,yly, in his Euphues (1579, fol. 28), makes Lucilla say "No 
 irde can looke agains the Siinne, but those that bee bredde 
 f the eagle, neyther any hawke soare so hie as the broode of 
 le hobbie." 
 
 " Then rouse thee, muse, each little hobby plies 
 At scarabes and painted butterflies." 
 
 WITHER'S Abuses Stript and WTiipt, 1613. 
 1 The young male sparrow-hawk. 
 3 The falco laniarius of Linnteus. 
 
 * The female of the lanner. Latham (Faulconrie, lib. ii. chap, 
 ed. 1658), explains the difference between the lanner and the 
 shawk. 
 
180 POEMS. 
 
 The goshawk and her tercel 1 rows'd 
 With tears attend thee as new bows'd, 
 All these are in their dark array, 
 Led by the various herald-jay. 
 
 But thy eternal name shall live 
 Whilst quills from ashes fame reprieve, 
 Whilst open stands renown's wide dore, 
 And wings are left on which to soar ; 
 Doctor robbin, the prelate pye, 
 And the poetick swan, shall dye, 
 Only to sing thy elegie. 
 
 LOVE MADE IN THE FIRST AGE. 
 TO CHLORIS. 
 
 I. 
 
 the nativity of time, 
 Chloris ! it was not thought a crime 
 
 In direct Hebrew for to woe. 
 Now wee make love, as all on fire, 
 Ring retrograde our lowd desire, 
 
 And court in English backward too. { 
 
 H. 
 
 Thrice happy was that golden age, 
 When complement was constru'd rage, 
 
 1 Here used for the female of the goshawk. Tiercel and ta.l 
 are other forms of the same word. See Strutt's Sports and P 
 times, ed. Hone, 1845, p. 37. 
 
POEMS. 181 
 
 And fine words in the center hid ; 
 When cursed no stain'd no maid's blisse, 
 And all discourse was summ'd in yes, 
 
 And nought forbad, but to forbid. 
 
 HI. 1 
 
 Love then unstinted love did sip, 
 
 And cherries pluck'd fresh from the lip, 
 
 On cheeks and roses free he fed ; 
 Lasses, like Autumne plums, did drop, 
 And lads indifferently did crop 
 
 A flower and a maiden-head. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then unconfined each did tipple 
 
 Wine from the bunch, milk from the nipple ; 
 
 Paps tractable as udders were. 
 Then equally the wholsome jellies 
 Were squeez'd from olive-trees and bellies : 
 
 Nor suits of trespasse did they fear. 
 
 v. 
 
 A fragrant bank of strawberries, 
 Diaper'd with violets' eyes, 
 
 Was table, table-cloth and fare ; 
 No palace to the clouds did swell, 
 Each humble princesse then did dwell 
 
 In the Piazza of her hair. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Both broken faith and th' cause of it, 
 All-damning gold, was damn'd to th' pit ; 
 
 1 This and the succeeding stanza are omitted by Mr. Singer 
 n his reprint. 
 
182 POEMS. 
 
 Their troth seal'd with a clasp and kisse, 
 Lasted until that extreem day, * 
 In which they smiPd their souls away, 
 
 And in each other breath'd new blisse. 
 
 vn. 
 
 Because no fault, there was no tear ; 
 No grone did grate the granting ear, 
 
 No false foul breath, their del' cat smell. 
 No serpent kiss poyson'd the tast, 
 Each touch was naturally chast, 
 
 And their mere Sense a Miracle. 
 
 vm. 
 
 Naked as their own innocence, 
 And unembroyder'd from offence, 
 
 They went, above poor riches, gay ; 
 On softer than the cignet's down, 
 In beds they tumbled off their own : 
 
 For each within the other lay. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Thus did they live : thus did they love, 
 Repeating only joyes above, 
 
 And angels were but with cloaths on, 
 Which they would put off cheerfully, 
 To bathe them in the Galaxie, 
 
 Then gird them with the heavenly zone. 
 
 x. 
 
 Now, Chloris ! miserably crave 
 
 The offer'd blisse you would not have, 
 
 Which evermore I must deny : 
 Whilst ravish'd with these noble dreams, 
 And crowned with mine own soft beams, 
 
 Injoying of my self I lye. 
 

 . POEMS. 183 
 
 TO A LADY WITH CHILD THAT ASK'D 
 AN OLD SHIET. 1 
 
 fND why an honour'd ragged shirt, that shows, 
 Like tatter'd ensigns, all its bodie's blows ? 
 Should it be swathed in a vest so dire, 
 It were enough to set the child on fire ; 
 Dishevelled queen[s] should strip them of their hair, 
 And in it mantle the new rising heir : 
 Nor do I know ought worth to wrap it in, 
 Except my parchment upper-coat of skin ; 
 And then expect no end of its chast tears, 
 That first was rowl'd in down, now furs of bears. 
 
 But since to ladies 't hath a custome been 
 Linnen to send, that travail and lye in ; 
 To the nine sempstresses, my former friends, 
 I su'd ; but they had nought but shreds and ends. 
 At last, the jolli'st of the three times three 
 Eent th' apron from her smock, and gave it me ; 
 'Twas soft and gentle, subt'ly spun, no doubt ; 
 Pardon my boldnese, madam ; 'here's the clout. 
 
 1 A portion of this little poem is quoted in Brand's Popular 
 Antiquities (edit. 1849,ii. 70), as an illustration of the custom to 
 which it refers. No second example of such an usage seems to 
 have been known to Brand and his editors. 
 
184 POEMS. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 i. 
 'N mine one monument I lye, 
 
 And in my self am buried ; 
 Sure, the quick lightning of her eye 
 
 Melted my soul ith' scabberd dead ; 
 And now like some pale ghost I walk, 
 And with another's spirit talk. 
 
 n. 
 $"or can her beams a heat convey, 
 
 That may my frozen bosome warm, 
 Unless her smiles have pow'r, as they, 
 
 That a cross charm can countercharm. 
 But this is such a pleasing pain, 
 I'm loth to be alive again. 
 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 DID believe I was in heav'n, 
 When first the heav'n her self was giv'n, 
 That in my heart her beams did passe 
 As some the sun keep in a glasse, 
 
 So that her beauties thorow me 
 
 Did hurt my rival-enemy. 
 
 But fate, alas ! decreed it so, 
 
 That I was engine to my woe : 
 
 For, as a corner'd christal spot, 
 
 My heart diaphanous was not ; 
 
 But solid stuffe, where her eye flings 
 
 Quick fire upon the catching strings : 
 
POEMS. 185 
 
 Yet, as at triumphs in the night, 
 You see the Prince's Arms in light, 
 So, when I once was set on flame, 
 I burnt all ore the letters of her name. 
 
 ODE. 
 
 i. 
 
 \ OU are deceiv'd ; I sooner may, dull fair, 
 Seat a dark Moor in Cassiopea's 1 chair, 
 Or on the glow-worm's uselesse light 
 Bestow the watching flames of night, 
 Or give the rose's breath 
 To executed death, 
 
 Ere the bright hiew 
 Of verse to you ; 
 
 It is just Heaven on beauty stamps a fame, 
 And we, alas ! its triumphs but proclaim. 
 
 IT. 
 
 What chains but are too light for me, should I 
 Say that Lucasta in strange arms could lie ? 
 
 1 The constellation so called. In old drawings Cassiopeia is 
 represented as a woman sitting in a chair with a branch in her 
 hand, and hence the allusion here. Dixon, in his Canidia, 1683, 
 part i. p. 35, makes his witches say : 
 
 " We put on Berenice's hair, 
 
 And sit in Cassiopeia's chair." 
 
 Randolph couples it with " Ariadne's Crowne " in the following 
 passage : 
 
 *' Shine forth a constellation, full and bright, 
 Bless the poor heavens with more majestick light, 
 Who in requitall shall present you there 
 Ariadne's Crowne and Cassiopeia's Chayr." 
 
 Poems, ed. 1640, p. 14. 
 
186 POEMS. 
 
 Or that Castara 1 were impure ; 
 Or Saccarisa's 2 faith unsure ? 
 That Chloris' love, as hair, 
 Embrac'd each en'mies air; 
 That all their good 
 Ran in their blood? 
 
 'Tis the same wrong th' unworthy to inthrone, 
 As from her proper sphere t' have vertue thrown. 
 
 HI. 
 
 That strange force on the ignoble hath renown ; 
 As Aurum Fulminans, it blows vice down. 
 'Twere better (heavy one) to crawl 
 Forgot, then raised, trod on [to] fall. 
 All your defections now 
 Are not writ on your brow ; 
 Odes to faults give 
 A shame must live. 
 
 When a fat mist we view, we coughing run ; 
 But, that once meteor drawn, all cry : undone. 
 
 IV. 
 
 How bright the fair Paulina 3 did appear, 
 When hid in jewels she did seem a star ! 
 
 jBut who could soberly behold 
 
 A wicked owl in cloath of gold, 
 
 1 William Habington published his poems under the name of 
 Castara, a fictitious appellation signifying the daughter of Lord 
 Powis. This lady was eventually his wife. The first edition of 
 Castara appeared in 1634, the second in 1630, and the third in 
 1640. 
 
 2 Waller's Sacharissa, i. e. Lady Dorothy Sydney. 
 
 3 Lollia Paulina, who first married Memmius Kegulus, and 
 
POEMS. 187 
 
 Or the ridiculous Ape 
 In sacred Vesta's shape ? 
 So doth agree 
 Just praise with thee : 
 
 For since thy birth gave thee no beauty, know, 
 No poets pencil must or can do so. 
 
 THE DUELL. 
 
 ! OVE drank, the other day, knockt at my 
 
 brest, 
 
 But I, alas ! was not within. 
 My man, my ear, told me he came t' attest, 
 That without cause h'd boxed him, 
 And battered the windows of mine eyes, 
 And took my heart for one of 's nunneries. 
 
 n. 
 I wondred at the outrage safe return'd, 
 
 And stormed at the base affront ; 
 And by a friend of mine, bold faith, that burn'd, 
 
 I called him to a strict accompt. 
 He said that, by the law, the challenged might 
 Take the advantage both of arms and fight. 
 
 iii. 
 
 Two darts of equal length and points he sent, 
 And nobly gave the choyce to me, 
 
 subsequently the Emperor Caligula, from both of whom she was 
 divorced. She inherited from her father enormous wealth. 
 
188 POEMS. 
 
 Which I not weigh'd, young and indifferent, 
 
 Now full of nought but victorie. 
 So we hoth met in one of s mother's groves, 
 The tune, at the first murm'ring of her doves. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I stript myself naked all o're, as he : 
 
 For so I was best arm'd, when bare. 
 His first pass did my liver rase : yet I 
 
 Made home a falsify l too neer : 
 For when my arm to its true distance came, 
 I nothing touch'd but a fantastick flame. 
 
 v. 
 This, this is love we daily quarrel so, 
 
 An idle Don-Quichoterie : 
 We whip our selves with our own twisted wo, 
 
 And wound the ayre for a fly. 
 The only way t' undo this enemy 
 Is to laugh at the boy, and he will cry. 
 
 CUPID FAR GONE. 
 
 i. 
 
 'HAT, so beyond all madnesse is the elf, 
 Now he hath got out of himself ! 
 His fatal enemy the Bee, 
 Nor his deceiv'd artillerie, 
 His shackles, nor the roses bough 
 Ne'r half so netled him, as he is now. 
 
 1 "To falsify a thrust," says Phillips (World of Words, ed. 
 1706, art. falsify), " is to make a feigned pass." Lovelace here 
 employs the word as a substantive rather awkwardly ; but the 
 meaning is, no doubt, the same. 
 
POEMS. 189 
 
 n. 1 
 See ! at's own mother he is offering ; 
 
 His finger now fits any ring ; 
 
 Old Cybele he would enjoy, 
 
 And now the girl, and now the boy. 
 
 He proffers Jove a back caresse, 
 And all his love in the antipodes, 
 
 m. 
 Jealous of his chast Psyche, raging he 
 
 Quarrels with 2 student Mercuric, 
 
 And with a proud submissive breath 
 
 Offers to change his darts with Death. 
 
 He strikes at the bright eye of day, 
 And Juno tumbles in her milky way. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The dear sweet secrets of the gods he tells, 
 And with loath'd hate lov'd heaven he swells ; 
 Now, like a fury, he belies 
 Myriads of pure virginities, 
 And swears, with this false frenzy hurl'd, 
 There's not a vertuous she in all the world. 
 
 Y. 
 
 Olympus he renownces, then descends, 
 And makes a friendship with the fiends ; 
 Bids Charon be no more a slave, 
 He Argos rigg'd with stars shall have, 
 And triple Cerberus from below 
 Must leash'd t' himself with him a hunting go. 
 
 1 This stanza was suppressed by Mr. Singer. 
 9 Original reads the. 
 
190 POEMS. 
 
 A MOCK SONG. 
 
 i. 
 
 JOW Whitehall's in the grave, 
 And our head is our slave, 
 The bright pearl in his close shell of oyster ; 
 Now the miter is lost, 
 The proud Prselates, too, crost, 
 And all Eome's confin'd to a cloister. 
 He, that Tarquin was styl'd, 
 Our white land's exil'd, 
 
 Yea, undefil'd ; 
 
 Not a court ape's left to confute us ; 
 Then let your voyces rise high, 
 As your colours did flye, 
 
 And flour'shing cry : 
 Long live the brave Oliver-Brutus. 1 
 
 n. 
 
 Now the sun is unarm'd, 
 And the moon by us charm'd, 
 All the stars dissolv'd to a jelly ; 
 Now the thighs of the Crown 
 And the arms are lopp'd down, 
 And the body is all but a belly. 
 Let the Commons go on, 
 The town is our own, 
 We'l rule alone : 
 
 1 Cromwell. 
 
POEMS. 191 
 
 For the Knights have yielded their spent-gorge ; 
 
 And an order is tane 
 
 With HONY SOIT profane, 
 
 Shout forth ainain : 
 For our Dragon hath vanquish'd the St. George. 
 
 A FLY CAUGHT IN A COBWEB. 
 
 MALL type of great ones, that do hum 
 Within this whole world's narrow room, 
 That with a busie hollow noise 
 Catch at the people's vainer voice, 
 And with spread sails play with their breath, 
 Whose very hails new christen death. 
 Poor Fly, caught in an airy net, 
 Thy wings have fetter'd now thy feet ; 
 Where, like a Lyon in a toyl, 
 Howere thou keep'st a noble coyl, 
 And beat'st thy gen'rous breast, that o're 
 The plains thy fatal buzzes rore, 
 Till thy aU-bellyd foe (round elf 1 ) 
 Hath quarter'd thee within himself. 
 
 Was it not better once to play 
 I' th' light of a majestick ray, 
 Where, though too neer and bold, the fire 
 Might sindge thy upper down attire, 
 And thou i' th' storm to loose an eye, 
 A wing, or a self-trapping thigh : 
 
 The spider. 
 
192 POEMS. 
 
 Yet hadst thou fal'n like him, whose coil 
 Made fishes in the sea to broyl, 
 When now th'ast scap'd the noble flame ; 
 Trapp'd basely in a slimy frame, 
 And free of air, thou art become 
 Slave to the spawn of mud and lome ? 
 
 Nor is't enough thy self do's dresse 
 To thy swoln lord a num'rous messe, 
 And by degrees thy thin veins bleed, 
 And piecemeal dost his poyson feed ; 
 But now devour'd, art like to.be 
 A net spun for thy familie, 
 And, straight expanded in the air, 
 Hang'st for thy issue too a snare. 
 Strange witty death and cruel ill 
 That, killing thee, thou thine dost kill ! 
 Like pies, in whose entombed ark 
 All fowl crowd downward to a lark, 
 Thou art thine en'mies' sepulcher, 
 And in thee buriest, too, thine heir. 
 
 Yet Fates a glory have reserved 
 For one so highly hath deserv'd. 
 As the rhinoceros doth dy 
 Under his castle-enemy, 
 
 As through the cranes trunk throat doth speed, 
 The aspe doth on his feeder feed ; 
 Fall yet triumphant in thy woe, 
 Bound with the entrails of thy foe. 
 
POEMS. 193 
 
 A FLY ABOUT A GLASSE OF BURNT 
 CLAEET. 
 
 i. 
 
 ORBEAR this liquid fire, Fly, 
 It is more fatal then the dry, 
 That singly, but embracing, wounds ; 
 And this at once both burns and drowns. 
 
 H. 
 
 The salamander, that in heat 
 And flames doth cool his monstrous sweat, 
 Whose fan a glowing cake is said, 
 Of this red furnace is afraid. 
 
 in. 
 
 Viewing the ruby-christal shine, 
 Thou tak'st it for heaven-christalline ; 
 Anon thou wilt be taught to groan : 
 'Tis an ascended Acheron. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A snow-ball heart in it let fall, 
 And take it out a fire-ball ; 
 An icy breast in it betray'd 
 Breaks a destructive wild granade. 
 
 v. 
 
 'Tis this makes Venus altars shine, 
 This kindles frosty Hymen's pine ; 
 When the boy grows old in his desires, 
 This flambeau doth new light his fires. 
 o 
 
194 POEMS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Though the cold hermit ever wail, 
 Whose sighs do freeze, and tears drop hail, 
 Once having pass'd this, will iie'r 
 Another flaming purging fear. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The vestal drinking this doth hum 
 Now more than in her fun'ral urn : 
 Her fires, that with the sun kept race, 
 Are now extinguish'd by her face. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The chymist, that himself doth still, 1 
 Let him but tast this limbecks 2 bill, 
 
 1 i. e. distil. 
 
 2 Lovelace was by no means peculiar in the fondness which he 
 has shown in this poem and elsewhere for figures drawn from the 
 language of alchemy. 
 
 " Retire into thy grove of eglantine, 
 Where I will all those ravished sweets distill 
 Through Love's alembic, and with chemic skill 
 From the mix'd mass one sovereign balm derive." 
 
 CAREW'S Poems (1640), ed. 1772, p. 77. 
 
 " 1 will try 
 
 From the warm limbeck of my eye, 
 In such a method to distil 
 
 Tears on thy marble nature " 
 
 SHIRLEY'S Poems (Works by Dyce, vi. 407) 
 " Nature's Confectioner, the Bee, 
 Whose suckers are moist Alchymie, 
 The still of his refining Mould, 
 Minting the garden into gold." 
 
 CLEVELAND'S Poems, ed. 1669, p. 4. 
 " Fisher is here with purple wing, 
 Who brings me to the Spring-head, where 
 Cry stall is Lymbeckt all the year." 
 
 LORD WESTMORELAND'S Otia Sacra, 1648, p. 13 
 
 <; 
 
 i 
 
POEMS. 195 
 
 And prove this sublimated bowl, 
 He'll swear it will calcine a soul. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Noble, and brave ! now thou dost know 
 The false prepared decks below, 
 Dost thou the fatal liquor sup, 
 One drop, alas ! thy barque blowes up. 
 
 x. 
 
 What airy country hast to save, 
 Whose plagues thou'lt bury in thy grave ? 
 For even now thou seem'st to us 
 On this gulphs brink a Curtius. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And now th' art fain (magnanimous Fly) 
 In, where thine Ocean doth fry, 
 Like the Sun's son, who blush'd the flood 
 To a complexion of blood. 
 
 xn. 
 
 Yet, see ! my glad auricular 
 Redeems thee (though dissolved) a star, 
 Flaggy 1 thy wings, and scorch'd thy thighs, 
 Thou ly'st a double sacrifice. 
 
 1 Weak. The word was once not very uncommon in writings. 
 Bacon, Spenser, &c. use it ; but it is now, I believe, confined to 
 Somersetshire and the bordering counties. 
 " Luke. A south wind 
 
 Shall sooner soften marble, and the rain, 
 That slides down gently from his flaggy wings, 
 O'erflow the Alps." 
 
 MASSINGER'S City Madam, 1658. 
 
196 POEMS. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And now my warming, cooling breath 
 Shall a new life afford in death ; 
 See ! in the hospital of my hand 
 Already cur'd, thou fierce- do'st stand. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Burnt insect ! dost thou reaspire 
 
 The moist-hot-glasse and liquid fire ? 
 
 I see 'tis such a pleasing pain, 
 
 Thou would^st be scorch'd and drown'd again. 
 
 FEMALE GLOKY. 
 
 ONGST the worlds wonders, there doth 
 
 yet remain 
 One greater than the rest, that's all those 
 
 o're again, 
 
 And her own self beside : A Lady, whose soft breast 
 Is with vast honours soul and virtues life possest. 
 Fair as original light first from the chaos shot, 
 "When day in virgin-beams triumph'd, and night was not, 
 And as that breath infus'd in the new -breather good, 
 When ill unknown was dumb, and bad not understood ; 
 Chearful, as that aspect at this world's finishing, 
 When cherubims clapp'd wings, and tli' sons of Heaven 
 
 did sing ; 
 
 Chast as th' Arabian bird, who all the ayr denyes, 1 
 And ev'n in flames expires, when with her selfe she lyes. 
 
 * The Phoenix. 
 
POEMS. 197 
 
 Oh ! she's as kind as drops of new fain April showers, 
 i That on each gentle breast spring fresh perfuming 
 
 flowers ; 
 
 She's constant, generous, fixt ; she's calm, she is the all 
 We can of vertue, honour, faith, or glory call, 
 And she is (whom I thus transmit to endless fame) 
 Mistresse oth' world and me, and LAUBA is her name. 
 
 A DIALOGUE. 
 LUTE AND VOICE. 
 
 TNGr, Laura, sing, whilst silent are the 
 
 sphears, 
 
 And all the eyes of Heaven are turn'd 
 to ears. 
 
 F. Touch thy dead wood, and make each living tree 
 
 (Unchain its feet, take arms, and follow thee. 
 Gliorus. 
 L. Sing. F. Touch. O Touch. L. O Sing. 
 Both. It is the souls, souls sole offering. 
 
 F. Touch the divinity of thy chords, and make 
 Each heart string tremble, and each sinew shake. 
 
 Whilst with your voyce you rarifie the air, 
 None but an host of angels hover here. 
 
 Chorus. Sing, Touch, &c. 
 
 . 
 F. Touch thy soft lute, and in each gentle thread 
 
 The lyon and the panther captive lead. 
 
 
198 POEMS. 
 
 L. Sing, and in heav'n inthrone deposed love, 
 "Whilst angels dance, and fiends in order move. 
 
 Double Chorus. 
 What sacred charm may this then he 
 
 In harmonie, 
 That thus can make the angels wild, 
 
 The devils mild, 
 
 And teach 1 low hell to heav'n to swell, 
 And the high heav'n to stoop to hell ? 
 
 A MOCK CHARON. 
 DIALOGUE. 
 CHA. W. 
 
 'HAEON! thou slave! thoufooU! thou 
 
 cavaleer ! 2 
 Gha. A slave ! a fool ! what traitor's 
 
 voice I hear ? 
 W. Come bring thy boat. Ch. No, sir. W. No ! 
 
 sirrah, why ? 
 Gha. The blest will disagree, and fiends will mutiny 
 
 At thy, at thy [un]numbred treachery. 
 W. Villain, I have a pass which who disdains, 
 I will sequester the Elizian plains. 
 
 *7 
 
 1 Original and Singer read reach. 
 
 2 This word is used here merety to denote a gallant, a. fellow. 
 From being in its primitive sense a most honourable appellation, 
 it became, during and after the civil war between Charles and 
 the Parliament, a term of equivocal import. 
 
POEMS. 199 
 
 Cha. "Woes me, ye gentle shades! where shall I dwell? 
 He's come ! It is not safe to be in hell. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Thus man, his honor lost, falls on these shelves ; 
 Furies and fiends are still true to themselves. 
 
 Cha. You must, lost fool, come in. W. Oh, let me in ! 
 But now I fear thy boat will sink with my ore-weighty 
 
 sin. 
 Where, courteous Charon, am I now? Cha. Vile 
 
 rant! 1 
 At the gates of thy supreme Judge Ehadamant. 
 
 Double Chorus of Divels. 
 "Welcome to rape, to theft, to perjurie, 
 To all the ills thou wert, we canot hope to be ; 
 Oh, pitty us condemned ! Oh, cease to wooe, 
 And softly, softly breath, least you infect us too. 
 
 THE TOAD AND SPYDEE. 
 A DUELL. 
 
 PON a day, when the Dog-star 
 Unto the world proclaim'd a war, 
 And poyson bark'd from his black throat, 
 And from his jaws infection shot, 
 Under a deadly hen-bane shade 
 With slime infernal mists are made, 
 
 1 Here equivalent to ranter, and used for the sake of the 
 metre. 
 
200 POEMS. 
 
 Met the two dreaded enemies, 
 Having their weapons in their eyes. 
 
 First from his den rolls forth that load 
 Of spite and hate, the speckl'd toad, 
 And from his chaps a foam doth spawn, 
 Such as the loathed three heads yawn ; 
 Defies his foe with a fell spit, 
 To wade through death to meet with it ; 
 Then in his self the lymbeck turns, 
 And his elixir'd poyson urns. 
 Arachne, once the fear oth' maid 1 
 Coalestial, thus unto her pray'd : 
 Heaven's blew-ey'd daughter, thine own mother ! 
 The Python-killing Sun's thy brother. 
 Oh ! thou, from gods that didst descend, 
 With a poor virgin to contend, 
 Shall seed of earth and hell ere be 
 A rival in thy victorie ? 
 Pallas assents : for now long time 
 And pity had clean rins'd her crime ; 
 When straight she doth with active fire 
 Her many legged foe inspire. 
 Have you not seen a charact 2 He 
 A great cathedral in the sea, 
 
 1 It will be seen that this poem partly turns on the mytho- 
 logical tale of Arachne and Minerva, and the metamorphosis of 
 the former by the angry goddess into a spider (apa'xvjj). 
 
 * t. e. carak, or carrick, as the word is variously spelled. This 
 large kind of ship was much used by the Greeks and Venetians 
 during the middle ages, and also by other nations. 
 
POEMS. 201 
 
 Under whose Babylonian walls 
 A small thin frigot almshouse stalls ? 
 So in his slime the toad doth float 
 And th' spyder by, but seems his boat. 
 And now the naumachie l begins ; 
 Close to the surface her self spins : 
 Arachne, when her foe lets flye 
 A broad-side of his breath too high, 
 That's over-shot, the wisely-stout, 
 Advised maid doth tack about ; 
 And now her pitchy barque doth sweat, 
 Chaf 'd in her own black fury wet ; 
 Lasie and cold before, she brings 
 New fires to her contracted stings, 
 And with discolour'd spumes doth blast 
 The herbs that to their center hast. 
 Now to the neighb'ring henbane top 
 Arachne hath her self wound up, 
 And thence, from its dilated leaves, 
 By her own cordage downwards weaves, 
 And doth her town of foe attack, 2 
 And storms the rampiers 3 of his back ; 
 Which taken in her colours spread, 
 March to th' citadel of 's head. 
 
 1 The poet rather awkwardly sustains his simile, and employs, 
 in expressing a contest between the toad and the spider, a term 
 signifying a naval battle, or, at least, a fight between two ships. 
 
 3 Lovelace's fondness for military similitudes is constantly 
 standing in the way, and marring his attempts at poetical 
 imagery. 
 
 3 A form of rampart, sanctioned by Dryden. 
 
202 POEMS. 
 
 Now as in witty torturing Spain, 
 
 The brain is vext to vex the brain, 
 
 Where hereticks bare heads are arm'd 
 
 In a close helm, and in it charm'd 
 
 An overgrown and meagre rat, 
 
 That peece-meal nibbles himself fat ; 
 
 So on the toads blew-checquer'd scull 
 
 The spider gluttons her self full. 
 
 And vomiting her Stygian seeds, 
 
 Her poyson on his poyson feeds. 
 
 Thus the invenom'd toad, now grown 
 
 Big with more poyson than his own, 
 
 Doth gather all his pow'rs, and shakes 
 
 His stormer in's disgorged lakes ; 
 
 And wounded now, apace crawls on 
 
 To his next plantane surgeon, 1 
 
 "With whose rich balm no sooner drest, 
 
 But purged is his sick swoln breast ; 
 
 And as a glorious combatant, 
 
 That only rests awhile to pant, 
 
 Then with repeated strength and scars, 
 
 That smarting fire him new to wars, 
 
 Deals blows that thick themselves prevent, 
 
 As they would gain the time he spent. 
 
 So the disdaining angry toad, 
 That calls but a thin useless load, 
 His fatal feared self comes back 
 With unknown venome fill'd to crack. 
 
 Medicinal herb or plant. 
 
POEMS. 203 
 
 Th' amased spider, now untwin'd, 
 
 Hath crept up, and her self new lin'd 
 
 With fresh salt foams and mists, that blast 
 
 The ambient air as they past. 
 
 And now me thinks a Sphynx's wing 
 
 I pluck, and do not write, but sting ; 
 
 With their black blood my pale inks blent, 1 
 
 Gall's but a faint ingredient. 
 
 The pol'tick toad doth now withdraw, 
 
 Warn'd, higher in campanid. 2 
 
 There wisely doth, intrenched deep, 
 
 His body in a body keep, 
 
 And leaves a wide and open pass 
 
 T' invite the foe up to his jaws, 
 
 WTiich there within a foggy blind 
 
 With fourscore fire-arms were lin'd. 
 
 The gen'rous active spider doubts 
 
 More ambuscadoes than redoubts ; 
 
 So within shot she doth pickear, 3 
 
 Now gall's the flank, and now the rear ; 
 
 As that 4 the toad in's own dispite 
 
 Must change the manner of his fight, 
 
 Who, like a glorious general, 
 
 With one home-charge lets fly at all. 
 
 J Blended. 
 
 2 Campania may signify, in the present passage, either a field 
 or the country generally, or a plain. It is a clumsy expression. 
 
 3 Tn the sense in which it is here used this word seems to be 
 peculiar to Lovelace. To pickear, or pickecr, means to skirmish. 
 
 4 So that. 
 
204 POEMS. 
 
 Chaf 'd with a fourfold ven'mous foam 
 Of scorn, revenge, his foes and 's own, 
 He seats him in his loathed chair, 
 New-made him by each mornings air, 
 With glowing eyes he doth survey 
 Th' undaunted hoast he calls his prey ; 
 Then his dark spume he gred'ly laps, 
 And shows the foe his grave, his chaps. 
 
 Whilst the quick wary Amazon 
 Of 'vantage takes occasion, 
 And with her troop of leggs carreers 
 In a full speed with all her speers. 
 Down (as some mountain on a mouse) 
 On her small cot he flings his house ; 
 Without the poyson of the elf, 
 The toad had like t' have hurst himself : 
 For sage Arachne with good heed 
 Had stopt herself upon full speed, 
 And, 's hody now disorder'd, on 
 She falls to execution. 
 The passive toad now only can 
 Contemn and suffer. Here began 
 The wronged maids ingenious rage, 
 Which his heart venome must asswage. 
 One eye she hath spet out, strange smother, 
 When one flame doth put out another, 
 And one eye wittily spar'd, that he 
 Might but behold his miserie. 
 She on each spot a wound doth print, 
 And each speck hath a sting within't ; 
 
POEMS. 
 
 Till lie but one new blister is, 
 And swells his own periphrasis. 
 Then fainting, sick, and yellow-pale, 
 She baths him with her sulph'rous stale ; 
 Thus slacked is her Stygian fire, 
 And she vouchsafes now to retire. 
 Anon the toad begins to pant, 
 Bethinks him of th' almighty plant, 
 And lest he peece-meal should be sped, 
 Wisely doth finish himself dead. 
 Whilst the gay girl, as was her fate, 
 Doth wanton and luxuriate, 
 And crowns her conqu'ring head all or 
 With fatal leaves of hellebore. 
 Not guessing at the pretious aid 
 Was lent her by the heavenly maid. 
 The neer expiring toad now rowls 
 Himself in lazy bloody scrowls, 
 To th' sov'raign salve of all his ills, 
 That only life and health distills. 
 But loe ! a terror above all, 
 That ever yet did him befall ! 
 
 Pallas, still mindful of her foe, 
 (Whilst they did with each fires glow) 
 Had to the place the spiders lar 
 Dispath'd before the ev'nings star. 
 He learned was in Natures laws, 
 Of all her foliage knew the cause, 
 And 'mongst the rest in his choice want 
 Unplanted had this plantane plant. 
 
 205 
 
206 POEMS. 
 
 The all-confounded toad doth see 
 His life fled with his remedie, 
 And in a glorious despair 
 First hurst himself, and next the air ; 
 Then with a dismal horred yell 
 Beats down his loathsome breath to hell. 
 
 But what inestimable bliss 
 This to the sated virgin is, 
 Who, as before of her fiend foe, 
 Now full is of her goddess too ! 
 She from her fertile womb hath spun 
 Her stateliest pavillion, 
 Whilst all her silken flags display, 
 And her triumphant banners play ; 
 Where Pallas she ith' midst doth praise, 
 And counterfeits her brothers rayes, 
 Nor will she her dear lar forget, 
 Victorious by his benefit, 
 Whose roof inchanted she doth free 
 From haunting gnat and goblin bee, 
 Who, trapp'd in her prepared toyle, 
 To their destruction keep a coyle. 
 
 Then she unlocks the toad's dire head, 
 Within whose cell is treasured 
 That pretious stone, which she doth call 
 A noble recompence for all, 
 And to her lar doth it present, 
 Of his fair aid a monument. 
 
POEMS. 207 
 
 THE SNAYL. 
 
 ISE emblem of our politick world, .f 
 
 Sage Snayl, within thine own self curl'd, 
 Instruct me softly to make hast, 
 Whilst these my feet go slowly fast. 
 
 Compendious Snayl ! thou seem'st to me 
 Large Euclid's strict epitome ; 
 And in each diagram dost fling 
 Thee from the point unto the ring. 
 A figure now triangulare, 
 An oval now, and now a square, 
 And then a serpentine, dost crawl, 
 Now a straight line, now crook'd, now all. 
 
 Preventing 1 rival of the day, 
 Th' art up and openest thy ray ; 
 And ere the morn cradles the moon, 2 
 Th' art broke into a beauteous noon. 
 Then, when the Sun sups in the deep, 
 Thy silver horns e're Cinthia's peep ; 
 And thou, from thine own liquid bed, 
 New Phoebus, heav'st thy pleasant head. 
 
 1 Anticipating, forerunning. 
 
 2 It can scarcely be requisite to mention that Lovelace refers 
 to the gradual evanescence of the moon before the growing day- 
 light. It is well known that the lunar orb is, at certain times, 
 visible sometime even after sunrise. 
 
208 POEMS. 
 
 Who shall a name for thee create, 
 Deep riddle of mysterious state ? 
 Bold Nature, that gives common birth 
 To all products of seas and earth, 
 Of thee, as earth-quakes, is afraid, 
 Nor will thy dire deliv'ry aid. 
 
 Thou, thine own daughter, then, and sire, 
 That son and mother art intire, 
 That big still with thy self dost go, 
 And liv'st an aged embrio ; 
 That like the cubbs of India, 
 Thou from thy self a while dost play ; 
 But frighted with a dog or gun, 
 In thine own belly thou dost run, 
 And as thy house was thine own womb, 
 So thine own womb concludes thy tomb. 
 
 But now I must (analys'd king) 
 Thy oeconomick virtues sing ; 
 Thou great stay'd husband still within, 
 Thou thee that's thine dost discipline ; 
 And when thou art to progress bent, 
 Thou mov'st thy self and tenement, 
 As warlike Scythians travayl'd, you 
 Kemove your men and city too ; 
 Then, after a sad dearth and rain, 
 Thou scatterest thy silver train ; 
 And when the trees grow nak'd and old, 
 Thou cloathest them with cloth of gold, 
 Which from thy bowels thou dost spin, 
 And draw from the rich mines within. 
 
POEMS. 209 
 
 Now hast thou chang'd thee, saint, and made 
 Thy self a fane that's cupula'd ; 
 And in thy wreathed cloister thou 
 Walkest thine own gray fryer too ; 
 Strickt and lock'd up, th'art hood all ore, 
 And ne'r eliminat'st thy dore. 
 On sallads thou dost feed severe, 
 And 'stead of heads thou drop'st a tear, 
 And when to rest each calls the bell, 
 Thou sleep'st within thy marble cell, 
 Where, in dark contemplation plac'd, 
 The sweets of Mature thou dost tast, 
 Who now with time thy days resolve, 
 And in a jelly thee dissolve, 
 Like a shot star, which doth repair 
 Upward, and rarifie the air. 
 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 HE Centaur, Syren, I foregoe ; 
 Those have been sung, and lowdly too 
 Nor of the mixed Sphynx He write, 
 Nor the renown'd Hermaphrodite. 
 Behold ! this huddle doth appear 
 Of horses, coach and charioteer, 
 That moveth him by traverse law, 
 And doth himself both drive and draw ; 
 Then, when the Sunn the south doth winne, 
 He baits him hot in his own inne. 
 p 
 
210 POEMS. 
 
 I heard a grave and austere dark 
 
 Eesolv'd him pilot both and barque ; 
 
 That, like the fam'd ship of Trevere, 
 
 Did on the shore himself lavere : 
 
 Yet the authentick do beleeve, 
 
 Who keep their judgement in their sleeve, 
 
 That he is his own double man, 
 
 And sick still carries his sedan : 
 
 Or that like dames i'th land of Luyck, 
 
 He wears his everlasting huyck. 1 
 
 But banisht, I admire his fate, 
 
 Since neither ostracisme of state, 
 
 Nor a perpetual exile, 
 
 Can force this virtue, change his soyl : 
 
 For, wheresoever he doth go, 
 
 He wanders with his country too. 
 
 1 i. q. huke. " Huke," says Minshen, " is a mantle such as 
 women use in Spaine, Germanic, and the Low Countries, when 
 they goe abroad." Lovelace clearly adopts the word for the sake 
 of the metre ; otherwise he might have chosen a better one. 
 
POEMS. 211 
 
 THE TEIUMPHS OF PHILAMOEE 
 
 AMOEET. 
 
 TO THE NOBLEST OF OUR YOUTH AND BEST OF 
 FRIENDS, CHARLES COTTON, ESQUIRE. 
 
 BEING AT BEBISFOBD, AT HIS HOUSE IN STAFFOBD- 
 I , 
 
 SHIBE. FBOM LONDON. 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 (IE, your sad absence I complain, as earth 
 Her long-hid spring, that gave her verdures 
 
 birth, 
 
 Who now her cheerful aromatick head 
 Shrinks in her cold and dismal widow'd bed ; 
 Whilst the false sun her lover doth him move 
 Below, and to th' antipodes make love. 
 
 What fate was mine, when in mine obscure cave 
 (Shut up almost close prisoner in a grave) 
 Your beams could reach me through this vault of night, 
 And canton the dark dungeon with light ! 
 Whence me (as gen'rous Spahys) you unbound, 
 Whilst I now know my self both free and crown'd. 
 
 1 Charles Cotton the younger, Walton's friend. He was born 
 on the 28th of April, 1630. He married, in 1656, Isabella, 
 daughter of Sir Thomas Hutchinson, of Owthorp, co. Notts, 
 Knight. See Walton's Angler, ed. 1760, where a life of Cotton, 
 compiled from the notes of the laborious Oldys, will be found. 
 The poet died in 1687, and, two years later, his miscellaneous 
 verses were printed in an octavo volume. 
 
212 POEMS. 
 
 But as at Meccha's tombe, the devout blind 
 Pilgrim (great husband of his sight and mind) 
 Pays to no other object this chast prise, 
 Then with hot earth anoynts out both his eyes : 
 So having seen your dazling glories store, 
 It is enough, and sin for to see more. 
 
 Or, do you thus those pretious rayes withdraw 
 To whet my dull beams, keep my bold in aw ? 
 Or, are you gentle and compassionate, 
 You will not reach me Regulus his fate ? 
 Brave prince ! who, eagle-ey'd of eagle kind, 
 Wert blindly damn'd to look thine own self blind ! 
 
 But oh, return those fires, too cruel-nice ! 
 For whilst you fear me cindars, see, I'm ice ! 
 A nummed speaking clod and mine own show, 1 
 My self congeal'd, a man cut out in snow : 
 Return those living fires. Thou, who that vast 
 Double advantage from one-ey'd Heav'n hast, 
 Look with one sun, though 't but obliquely be, 
 And if not shine, vouchsafe to wink on me. 
 
 Perceive you not a gentle, gliding heat, 
 And quick'ning warmth, that makes the statua sweat 
 As rev'rend Ducaleon's black-flung stone, 
 Whose rough outside softens to skin, anon 
 Each crusty vein with wet red is suppli'd, 
 Whilst nought of stone but in its heart doth 'bide. 
 
 So from the rugged north, where your soft stay 
 Hath stampt them a meridian and kind day ; 
 
 1 i. e. the shadow of myself. 
 
POEMS. 213 
 
 Where now each a la mode inhabitant 
 Himself and 's manners both do pay you rent, 
 And 'bout your house (your pallace) doth resort, 
 And 'spite of fate and war creates a court. 
 
 So from the taught north, when you shall return, 
 To glad those looks that ever since did mourn, 
 When men uncloathed of themselves you'l see, 
 Then start new made, fit, what they ought to be ; 
 Hast ! hast ! you, that your eyes on rare sights feed : 
 For thus the golden triumph is decreed. 
 
 The twice-born god, still gay and ever young, 
 With ivie crown'd, first leads the glorious throng : 
 He Ariadne's starry coronet 
 Designs for th' brighter beams of Amoret ; 
 Then doth he broach his throne, and singing quaff 
 Unto her health his pipe of god-head off. 
 
 Him follow the recanting, vexing Nine 
 Who, wise, now sing thy lasting fame in wine ; 
 Whilst Phoebus, not from th' east, your feast t' adorn, 
 But from th' inspir'd Canaries, rose this morn. 
 
 Now you are come, winds in their caverns sit, 
 And nothing breaths, but new-inlarged wit. 
 Hark ! One proclaims it piacle 1 to be sad, 
 And th' people call 't religion to be mad. 
 
 1 A crime, from the Latin piaculum which, from meaning pro- 
 ; perly an atonement, was afterwards used to express what required 
 f an atonement, i. e. an offence or sin. 
 
214 POEMS. 
 
 But now, as at a coronation, 
 
 When noyse, the guard, and trumpets are oreblown, 
 The silent commons mark their princes way, 
 And with still reverence both look and pray ; 
 So they amaz'd expecting do adore, 
 And count the rest but pageantry before. 
 
 Behold ! an hoast of virgins, pure as th' air 
 In her first face, 1 ere mists durst vayl her hair : 
 Their snowy vests, white as their whiter skin, 
 Or their far chaster whiter thoughts within : 
 Roses they breath'd and strew'd, as if the fine 
 Heaven did to earth his wreath of swets resign ; 
 They sang aloud : " Thrice, oh thrice happy, they 
 That can, like these, in love both yield and sway." 
 
 'Next herald Fame (a purple clowd her bears), 
 In an imbroider'd coat of eyes and ears, 
 Proclaims the triumph, and these lovers glory, 
 Then in a book of steel records the story. 
 
 And now a youth of more than god-like form 
 Did th' inward minds of the dumb throng alarm ; 
 All nak'd, each part betray'd unto the eye, 
 Ghastly : for neither sex ow'd he or she. 
 And this was heav'nly love. By his bright hand, 
 A boy of worse than earthly stuff did stand ; 
 His bow broke, his fires out, and his wings dipt, 
 And the black slave from all his false flames stript ; 
 
 1 The sky in the early part of the morning, before it is clouded 
 by mists. 
 
POEMS. 215 
 
 "Whose eyes were new-restor'd but to confesse 
 This day's bright blisse, and his own wretchednesse ; 
 Who, swell'd with envy, bursting with disdain, 
 Did cry to cry, and weep them out again. 
 
 And now what heav'n must I invade, what sphere 
 Rifle of all her stars, t' inthrone her there ? 
 No ! Phoebus, by thy boys 1 fate we beware 
 Th' unruly flames o'th' firebrand, thy carr ; 
 Although, she there once plac'd, thou, Sun, shouldst see 
 Thy day both nobler governed and thee. 
 Drive on, Bootes, thy cold heavy wayn, 
 Then grease thy wheels with amber in the main, 
 And Neptune, thou to thy false Thetis gallop, 
 Appollo's set within thy bed of scallop : 
 Whilst Amoret, on the reconciled winds 
 Mounted, and drawn by six celestial minds, 
 She armed was with innocence and fire, 
 That did not burn : for it was chast desire ; 
 Whilst a new light doth gild the standers by. 
 Behold ! it was a day shot from her eye ; 
 Chafing perfumes oth' East did throng and sweat, 
 But by her breath they melting back were beat. 
 A crown of yet-nere-lighted stars she wore, 
 In her soft hand a bleeding heart she bore, 
 And round her lay of broken millions more ; 2 
 
 1 Phaeton. 
 
 a Original reads, of millions broken more. The above is cer- 
 tainly preferable ; but the reader may judge for himself. It 
 should be borne in mind that the second part of Lucasta was not 
 even printed during the poet's life. If he had survived to re- 
 
216 POEMS. 
 
 Then a wing'd crier thrice aloud did call : 
 
 Let Fame proclaim this one great prise for all. 
 
 By her a lady that might be call'd fair, 
 And justly, but that Amoret was there, 
 Was pris'ner led ; th' unvalewed robe she wore 
 Made infinite lay lovers to adore, 
 Who vainly tempt her rescue (madly bold) 
 Chained in sixteen thousand links of gold ; 
 Chrysetta thus (loaden with treasures) slave 
 Did strow the pass with pearls, and her way pave. 
 
 But loe ! the glorious cause of all this high 
 True heav'nly state, brave Philamore, draws nigh, 
 Who, not himself, more seems himself to be, 
 And with a sacred extasie doth see ! 
 Fix'd and unmov'd on 's pillars he doth stay, 
 And joy transforms him his own statua ; 
 Nor hath he pow'r to breath [n]or strength to greet 
 The gentle offers of his Amoret, 
 Who now amaz'd at 's noble breast doth knock, 
 And with a kiss his gen'rous heart unlock ; 
 Whilst she and the whole pomp doth enter there, 
 Whence her nor Time nor Fate shall ever tear. 
 But whether am I hurl'd ? ho ! back ! awake 
 From thy glad trance : to thine old sorrow take ! 
 Thus, after view of all the Indies store, 
 The slave returns unto his chain and oar ; 
 
 publish the first portion, and to revise the second, perhaps we 
 should have had a better text. 
 
POEMS. 217 
 
 Thus poets, who all night in blest heav'ns dwell, 
 
 Are calTd next morn to their true living hell ; 
 
 So I unthrifty, to myself untrue, 
 
 Kise cloath'd with real wants, 'cause wanting you, 
 
 And what substantial riches I possesse, 
 
 I must to these unvalued dreams confesse. 
 
 But all our clowds shall be oreblown, when thee 
 In our horizon bright once more we see ; 
 "When thy dear presence shall our souls new-dress, 
 And spring an universal cheerfulnesse ; 
 When we shall be orewhelm'd in joy, like they 
 That change their night for a vast half-year's day. 
 
 Then shall the wretched few, that do repine, 
 See and recant their blasphemies in wine ; 
 Then shall they grieve, that thought I've sung too free, 
 High and aloud of thy true worth and thee, 
 And their fowl heresies and lips submit 
 To th' all-forgiving breath of Amoret ; 
 And me alone their angers object call, 
 That from my height so miserably did fall ; 
 And crie out my invention thin and poor, 
 Who have said nought, since I could say no more. 
 
218 POEMS. 
 
 ADVICE TO MY BEST BEOTHEE, COLL: 
 FBANCIS LOVELACE. 1 
 
 , wil't live unhandsomely ? trust not 
 too far 
 
 Thy self to waving seas : for what thy star, 
 Calculated by sure event, must be, 
 Look in the glassy-epithete, 2 and see. 
 
 Yet settle here your rest, and take your state, 
 And in calm halcyon's nest ev'n build your fate ; 
 Prethee lye down securely, Frank, and keep 
 With as much no noyse the inconstant deep 
 
 1 One of the younger brothers of the poet. In the year of' 
 the Restoration he filled the office of Recorder of Canterbury, 
 and in that capacity delivered the address of the city to Charles 
 II. on his passage through the place. This speech was printed! 
 in 1660, 4to, three leaves. The following extracts from the! 
 Calendars of State Papers (Domestic Series, 1660-1, page 139),: 
 throw a little additional light on the history of this person : \ 
 
 " 1660, July 1. Petition of Fras. Lovelace, Recorder of Can-j 
 terbury, to the King, for the stewardship of the liberties of St. 
 Augustine, near Canterbury, for himself and his son Goldwell. 
 Has suffered sequestration, imprisonment, and loss of office, for 
 his loyalty. With a note of the requested grant for Fras. Lovelace.' 
 
 " Grant to Fras. Lovelace, of the office of chief steward of the^ 
 Liberties of the late monastery of St. Augustine, near Canter-' 
 bury." 
 
 2 Unless the poet is advising his brother, before the latter 
 ventures on a long sea voyage, to look in the crystal, or beryl, 
 so popular at that time, in order to read his fortune, I must con- 
 fess my ignorance of the meaning of "glassy-epithete." See. 
 for an account of the beryl, Aubrey's Miscellanies, edit. 1857 ; 
 p. 154. 
 
POEMS. 219 
 
 As its inhabitants ; nay, stedfast stand, 
 As if discover'd were a New-found-land, 
 Fit for plantation here. Dream, dream still, 
 Lull'd in Dione's cradle ; dream, untill 
 Horrour awake your sense, and you now find 
 Your self a bubbled pastime for the wind ; 
 And in loose Thetis blankets torn and tost. 
 Frank, to undo thy self why art at cost ? 
 
 Nor be too confident, fix'd on the shore : 
 For even that too borrows from the store 
 Of her rich neighbour, since now wisest know 
 (And this to Galileo's judgement ow), 
 The palsie earth it self is every jot 
 As frail, inconstant, waveing, as that blot 
 "We lay upon the deep, that sometimes lies 
 Chang'd, you would think, with 's botoms properties ; 
 But this eternal, strange Ixion's wheel 
 Of giddy earth ne'er whirling leaves to reel, 
 Till all things are inverted, till they are 
 Turn'd to that antick confus'd state they were. 
 
 Who loves the golden mean, doth safely want 
 A cobwebb'd cot and wrongs entail'd upon't ; 
 He richly needs a pallace for to breed 
 Vipers and moths, that on their feeder feed ; 
 The toy that we (too true) a mistress call, 
 Whose looking-glass and feather weighs up all ; 
 And cloaths which larks would play with in the sun, 
 That mock him in the night, when 's course is run. 
 
 To rear an edifice by art so high, 
 That envy should not reach it with her eye, 
 
220 POEMS. 
 
 Nay, with a thought come neer it. Wouldst thou know, 
 How such a structure should be raisd, build low. 
 The blust'ring winds invisible rough stroak 
 More often shakes the stubborn'st, prop'rest oak ; 
 And in proud turrets we behold withal, 
 'Tis the imperial top declines to fall : 
 Nor does Heav'n's lightning strike the humble vales, 
 But high-aspiring mounts batters and scales. 
 
 A breast of proof defies all shocks of Fate, 
 Fears in the best, hopes in the worser state ; 
 Heaven forbid that, as of old, time ever 
 Flourish'd in spring so contrary, now never. 
 That mighty breath, which blew foul Winter hithe 
 Can eas'ly puff6 it to a fairer weather. 
 Why dost despair then, Frank ? J^olus has . 
 A Zephyrus as well as Boreas. 
 
 'Tis a false sequel, soloacisme 'gainst those 
 Precepts by fortune giv'n us, to suppose 
 That, 'cause it is now ill, 't will ere be so ; 
 Apollo doth not always bend his bow ; 
 But oft, uncrowned of his beams divine, 
 With his soft harp awakes the sleeping Nine. 
 
 In strictest things magnanimous appear, 
 Greater in hope, ho were thy fate, then 1 fear : 
 Draw all your sails in quickly, though no storm 
 Threaten your ruine with a sad alarm ; 
 For tell me how they differ, tell me, pray, 
 A cloudy tempest and a too fair day ? 
 
 1 Thau. 
 

 POEMS. 221 
 
 PAEIS'S SECOND JUDGEMENT, 
 
 UPON THE THREE DAUGHTERS OF MY DEAR 
 BROTHER MR. R. (LESAR. 1 
 
 ( EHOLD ! three sister- wonders, in whom 
 
 met, 
 
 Distinct and chast, the splendrous 2 counter- 
 feit 3 
 
 Of Juno, Venus and the warlike Maid, 
 Each in their three divinities array'd ; 
 The majesty and state of Heav'ns great Queen, 
 And when she treats the gods, her noble meen ; 
 The sweet victorious heauties and desires 
 0' th' sea-born princess, empresse too of fires ; 
 The sacred arts and glorious lawrels torn 
 From the fair brow o' th' goddesse father-born ; 
 All these were quarter'd in each snowy coat, 
 With.canton'd 4 honours of their own, to boot. 
 Paris, by fate new-wak'd from his dead cell, 
 Is charg'd to give his doom impossible. 
 
 1 Second son of Sir John Caesar, Knt., who was iher second 
 surviving son of Sir Julius Caesar, Knt., Master of the Rolls. Mr. 
 Robert Caesar married the poet's sister Johanna, by whom he 
 had three daughters, co-heirs Anue, Juliana, and Johanna. 
 These are the ladies commemorated in the text. See LODGE'S Life 
 of Sir Julius Ccesar, 1827, p. 54. 
 
 2 Original reads splendors. 
 
 3 This word is here used to signify simply resemblance or copy. 
 
 4 i. e. quartered. Canton, in heraldry, is a square space at one 
 of the corners of a shield of arms. 
 
222 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 He views in each the brav'ry 1 of all Ide ; 
 Whilst one, as once three, doth his soul divide. 
 Then sighs so equally they're glorious all : 
 What pity the whole world is but one ball! 
 
 PEINTURE. 
 
 A PANEGYRICK TO THE BEST PICTURE OF FRIENDS 
 MR. PET. LILLY. 
 
 Pliny, Lord High Treasurer of all 2 
 Natures exchequer shuffled in this our hall, 
 Peinture her richer rival did admire, 
 And cry'd she wrought with more almighty 
 
 fire, 
 
 That judg'd the unnumbered issue of her scrowl, 
 Infinite and various as her mother soul, 
 That contemplation into matter brought, 
 Body ? d Ideas, and could form a thought. 
 Why do I pause to couch the cataract, 4 
 And the grosse pearls from our dull eyes abstract, 
 
 1 Bravery here means, as it often does in writers of and 
 the time of Lovelace, a beautiful or fine spectacle, or simply 
 Brave in the sense of fine (gaudy or gallant) is still in use. 
 
 2 An allusion is, of course, intended to Pliny's Natural History 
 which, through Holland's translation, became popular in England 
 after 1601. 
 
 3 i. e. in our globe. 
 
 4 A term borrowed from the medical, or rather surgical, vo- 
 cabulary. " To couch a cataract" (i. e. in the eye) is to remove 
 it by surgical process. 
 
POEMS. 223 
 
 That, pow'rful Lilly, now awaken'd we 
 1 This new creation may behold by thee ? 
 
 To thy victorious pencil all, that eyes 
 And minds can reach, do bow. The deities 
 Bold Poets first but feign'd, you do and make, 
 And from your awe they our devotion take. 
 Your beauteous pallet first defin'd Love's Queen, 
 And made her in her heav'nly colours seen ; 
 You strung the bow of the Bandite her son, 1 
 And tipp'd his arrowes with religion. 
 Neptune as unknown as his fish might dwell, 
 But that you seat him in his throne of shell. 
 The thunderers artillery and brand, 
 You fancied Kome in his fantastick hand ; 
 And the pale frights, the pains, and fears of hell 
 First from your sullen melancholy fell. 
 Who cleft th' infernal dog's loath'd head in three, 
 And spun out Hydra's fifty necks ? by thee 
 As prepossess'd w' enjoy th' Elizian plain, 
 Which but before was flatter'd 2 in our brain. 
 WTio ere yet view'd airs child invisible, 
 A hollow voice, but in thy subtile skill ? 
 Faint stamm'ring Eccho you so draw, that we 
 The very repercussion do see. 
 
 Gheat-hocus-pocus-Nature an assay 3 
 0' th' spring affords us : presto, and away ! 4 
 
 1 An allusion to Lely's pictures of Venus and Cupid. 
 
 2 Falsely portrayed. 
 
 3 A glimpse. 
 
 4 Some picture by Lely, in which the painter introduced a 
 
 
224 POEMS. 
 
 You all the year do chain her and her fruits, 
 Boots to their beds, and flowers to their roots. 
 Have not mine eyes feasted i' th' frozen Zone 
 Upon a fresh new-grown collation 
 Of apples, unknown sweets, that seem'd to me 
 Hanging to tempt as on the fatal tree, 
 So delicately limn'd I vow'd to try 
 My 1 appetite impos'd upon my eye? 2 
 
 You, sir, alone, fame, and all-conqu'ring rime, 
 File 3 the set teeth of all-devouring time. 
 When beauty once thy vertuous paint hath on, 
 Age needs not call her to vermilion ; 
 Her beams nere shed or change like th' hair of day, 4 
 She scatters fresh her everlasting ray. 
 jSTay, from her ashes her fair virgin fire 
 Ascends, that doth new massacres conspire, 
 "Whilst we wipe off the num'rous score of years, 
 And do behold our grandsire[s] as our peers ; 
 
 spring landscape, is meant. The poet feigns the copy of Nature 
 to be so close that one might suppose the Spring had set in he- 
 fore the usual time. The canvass is removed, and the illusion is 
 dispelled. " Praesto, 'tis away," would be a preferable reading. 
 
 1 i. e. if my appetite, &c. Lovelace's style is elliptical to an 
 almost unexampled degree. 
 
 2 The same story, with variations, has been told over and over 
 again since the time of Zeuxis. 
 
 3 Original edition has^&s. 
 
 4 Hair is here used in what has become quite an obsolete 
 sense. The meaning is outward form, nature, or character. 
 The word used to be by no means uncommon ; but it is now, as 
 was before remarked, out of fashion ; and, indeed, I do not think 
 that it is found even in any old writer used exactly in the way 
 in which Lovelace has employed it. 
 
POEMS. 225 
 
 With the first father of our house compare 
 We do the features of our new-born heir : 
 For though each coppied a son, they all 
 Meet in thy first and true original. 
 
 Sacred ! luxurious ! what princesse not 
 But comes to you to have her self begot ? 
 As, when first man was kneaded, from his side 
 Is born to's hand a ready-made-up bride. 
 He husband to his issue then doth play, 
 And for more wives remove the obstructed way : 
 So by your art you spring up in two noons 
 What could not else be form'd by fifteen suns ; 
 Thy skill doth an'mate the prolifick flood, 
 And thy red oyl assimilates to blood. 
 
 Where then, when all the world pays its respect, 
 Lies our transalpine barbarous neglect? 
 When the chast hands of pow'rful Titian 
 Had drawn the scourges of our God and man, 
 And now the top of th' altar did ascend 
 To crown the heav'nly piece with a bright end ; 
 Whilst he, who in 1 seven languages gave law, 
 And always, like the Sun, his subjects saw, 
 Did, in his robes imperial and gold, 
 The basis of the doubtful ladder hold. 
 Charls ! 2 a nobler monument than that, 
 Which thou thine own executor wert at ! 
 When to our huffling Henry 3 there complain'd 
 A grieved earl, that thought his honor stain'd : 
 Away (frown'd he), for your own safeties, hast ! 
 
 1 Original reads to. * Charles V. 3 Henry VIII. 
 
 Q 
 
226 POEMS. 
 
 In one cheap hour ten coronets I'l cast ; 
 But Holbeen's noble and prodigious worth 
 Onely the pangs of an whole age brings forth. 1 
 Henry ! a word so princely saving said, 
 It might new raise the ruines thou hast made. 
 
 sacred Peincture ! that dost fairly draw, 
 What but in mists deep inward Poets saw ; 
 'Twixt thee and an Intelligence no odds, 2 
 That art of privy council to the gods ! 
 
 By thee unto our eyes they do prefer 
 
 A stamp of their abstracted character ; 
 
 Thou, that in frames eternity dost bind, 
 
 And art a written and a body'd mind ; 
 
 To thee is ope the Juncto o' th' abysse, 
 
 And its conspiracy detected is ; 
 
 Whilest their cabal thou to our sense dost show, 
 
 And in.thy square paint'st what they threat below. 
 
 Now, my best Lilly, let's walk hand in hand, 
 And smile at this un-understanding land ; 
 Let them their own dull counterfeits adore, 
 Their rainbow- cloaths admire, and no more. 
 Within one shade of thine more substance is, 
 Than all their varnish'd idol-mistresses : 
 Whilst great Yasari and Vermander shall 
 Interpret the deep mystery of all, 
 And I unto our modern Picts shall show, 
 What due renown to thy fair art they owe 
 
 1 A story too well kriown to require repetition. The Earl is 
 not mentioned. See WALPOLE'S Anecdotes of Painting, ed. 1862, 
 p. 71. 
 
 2 t. e. no difference. A compliment to Lely's spirituality. 
 
POEMS. 227 
 
 In the delineated lives of those, 
 
 By whom this everlasting lawrel grows. 
 
 Then, if they will not gently apprehend, 
 
 Let one great blot give to their fame an end ; 
 
 Whilst no poetick flower their herse doth dresse, 
 
 But perish they and their effigies. 
 
 AN ANNIVERSARY ON THE 
 
 HYMENEALS OF MY NOBLE KINSMAN,' 
 THO. STANLEY, ESQUIKE. 2 
 
 i. 
 
 HE day is curl'd about agen 
 To view the splendor she was in ; 
 
 When first with hallow'd hands 
 The holy man knit the mysterious bands 
 When you two your contracted souls did move 
 
 1 Lovelace was connected with the Stanleys through the 
 Auchers. The Kentish families, about this time, intermarried 
 with each other to a very large extent, partly to indemnify them- 
 selves from the consequences of gavelkind tenure (though many 
 had procured parliamentary relief) ; and the Lovelaces, the Stan- 
 leys, the Hammonds, the Sandyses, were all more or less bound 
 together by the ties of kindred. See the tree prefixed by Sir 
 Egerton Brydges to his edition of Hammond's Poems, 1816, and 
 the Introduction to Stanley's Poems, 1814. Sir William Lovelace, 
 the poet's grandfather, married Elizabeth, daughter of Edward 
 Aucher, Esq., of Bishopsbourne, near Canterbury, while Sir Wil- 
 liam Hammond, of St. Alban's Court, married, as his second 
 wife, Elizabeth, daughter of Anthony Aucher, Esq., of Bishops- 
 bourne, by whom he had, among other children, Mary, who 
 became the wifa of Sir Thomas Stanley, of Cumberlow, father of 
 Thomas Stanley, the poet, historian, and translator of Bion, &c. 
 
 2 See The Poems of William Hammond, 1655, edited by Sir E. 
 
228 POEMS. 
 
 Like clierubims above, 
 
 And did make love, 
 As your im-understanding issue now, 
 In a glad sigh, a smile, a tear, a vow. 
 
 H. 
 
 Tell me, O self-reviving Sun, 
 In thy perigrination 
 
 Hast thou beheld a pair 
 
 Twist their soft beams like these in their chast air ? 
 As from bright numberlesse imbracing rayes 
 Are sprung th' industrious dayes, 
 
 So when they gaze, 
 
 And change their fertile eyes with the new morn, 
 A beauteous offspring is shot forth, not born. 
 
 in. 
 
 Be witness then, all-seeing Sun, 
 Old spy, thou that thy race hast run 
 
 In full five thousand rings ; * 
 To thee were ever purer offerings 
 Sent on the wings of Faith ? and thou, O Night, 2 
 Curtain of their delight, 
 
 By these made bright, 
 Have you not mark'd their coelestial play, 
 And no more peek'd the gayeties of day ? 
 
 Brydges, 1816, p. 54, where there is a similar poem on Stanley and 
 his bride from the pen of Hammond, who also claimed relation- 
 ship with the then newly-married poet. The best account o 
 Stanley is in the reprint of his Poems and Translations, 1814 
 8vo. 
 
 1 Meaning that the earth had made 5000 revolutions rounc 
 the sun ; or, in other words, that the sun was 5000 years old. 
 
 3 Original reads and thou of night. 
 
POEMS. 229 
 
 IV. 
 
 Come then, pale virgins, roses strow, 
 Mingled with los as you go. 
 
 The snowy ox is kill'd, 
 The fane with pros'lyte lads and lasses fill'd, 
 You too may hope the same seraphic joy, 
 Old time cannot destroy, 
 
 Nor fulnesse cloy ; 
 
 When, like these, you shall stamp by sympathies 
 Thousands of new-born-loves with your chaste eyes. 
 
 ON SANAZAR'S BEING HONOURED 
 WITH SIX HUNDRED DUCKETS BY THE 
 
 CLARISSIMI OF VENICE, 
 
 FOR COMPOSING AN ELIGIACZ HEXASTICK OF THE CITY. 
 A SATYRE. 
 
 WAS a blith prince 1 exchang'd five hun- 
 dred crowns 
 
 For a fair turnip. Dig, dig on, clowns ! 
 But how this comes about, Fates, can you 
 
 tell, 
 This more then Maid of Meurs, this miracle ? 
 
 1 Louis XI. of France was the prince here intended. See 
 Mery Tales and Quiche Answers, No. 23 (ed. Hazlitt). I fear that 
 if Lovelace had derived his knowledge of this incident from the 
 little work mentioned, he would have been still more sarcastic ; for 
 Louis, in the Tales and Quiche Answers, is made to give, not 500 
 crowns for a turnip, but 1000 crowns for a radish. 
 
230 POEMS. 
 
 Let me not live, if I think not St. Mark 
 
 Has all the oar, as well as beasts, in's ark ! 
 
 No wonder 'tis he marries the rich sea, 
 
 33 ut to betroth him to nak'd Poesie, 
 
 And with a bankrupt muse to merchandise ; 
 
 His treasures beams, sure, have put out his eyes. 1 
 
 His conquest at Lepanto 2 I'l let pass, 
 
 When the sick sea with turbants night-cap'd was ; 
 
 And now at Candie his full courage shown, 
 
 That wan'd to a wan line the half-half moon. 3 
 
 This is a wreath, this is a victorie, 
 
 Ca?sar himself would have look'd pale to see, 
 
 And in the height of all his triumphs feel 
 
 Himself but chaiii'd to such a mighty wheel. 
 
 And now me thinks we ape Augustus state, 
 So ugly we his high worth imitate, 
 Monkey his godlike glories ; so that we 
 Keep light and form with such deformitie, 
 
 1 Perhaps Lovelace is rather too severe on Sannazaro. That 
 writer is said to have occupied twenty years in the composition 
 of his poem on the Birth of the Saviour, for which he probably 
 did riot receive a sixth part of the sum paid to him for his hex- 
 astic on Venice ; and so he deserved this little windfal, which 
 came out of the pocket of a Government rich enough to pay it 
 ten times over. See Corniano's Vita di Jacopo Sannazaro, pre- 
 fixed to the edition of his Arcadia, published at Milan in 1806. 
 Amongst the translations printed at the end of Lucaata, and 
 which it seems very likely were among the earliest poetical 
 essays of Lovelace, is this very epigram of Sannazaro. As in 
 the case of The Ant, I have little doubt that the satire was 
 suggested by the translation. 
 
 2 The battle of Lepanto, in which Don John of Austria and 
 the Venetians defeated the Turks, 1571. 
 
 3 The Turkish crescent. 
 
POEMS. 231 
 
 As I have seen an arrogant baboon 
 With a small piece of glasse zany the sun. 
 
 Rome to her bard, who did her battails sing, 
 Indifferent gave to poet and to king ; 
 With the same lawrells were his temples fraught, 
 Who best had written, and who best had fought ; 
 The self same fame they equally did feel, 
 One's style ador'd as much as t' other's steel. 
 A chain or fasces she could then afford 
 The sons of Phoebus, we, an axe or cord ; 
 Sometimes a coronet was her renown, 
 And ours, the dear prerogative of a crown. 
 In marble statu'd walks great Lucan lay, 
 And now we walk, our own pale statua. 
 They the whole year with roses crownd would dine, 
 And we in all December know no wine ; 
 Disciplin'd, dieted, sure there hath bin 
 Ods 'twixt a poet and a Capuchin. 
 
 Of princes, women, wine, to sing I see 
 Is no apocrypha : for to rise high 
 Commend this olio of this lord 'tis fit : 
 Nay, ten to one, but you have part of it ; 
 There is that justice left, since you maintain 
 His table, he should counter-feed your brain. 
 Then write how well he in his sack hath droll'd, 
 Straight there's a bottle to your chamber roll'd, 
 Or with embroider'd words praise his French suit, 
 Month hence 'tis yours with his mans, to boot ; 
 Or but applaud his boss'd legs : two to none, 
 But he most nobly doth give you one. 
 Or spin an elegie on his false hair : 
 
232 POEMS. 
 
 'Tis well, he cries, but living hair is dear. 
 Yet say that out of order ther's one curl, 
 And all the hopes of your reward you furl. 1 
 
 Write a deep epick poem, and you may 
 As soon delight them as the opera, 
 "Where they Diogenes thought in his tub, 
 Never so sowre did look so sweet a club. 
 
 You that do suck for thirst your black quil's blood, 2 
 And chaw your labour'd papers for your food, 
 I will inform you how and what to praise, 
 Then skin y' in satin as young Lovelace plaies. 
 Beware, as you would your fierce guests, your lice, 
 To strip the cloath of gold from cherish'd vice ; 
 Rather stand off with awe and reverend fear, 
 Hang a poetick pendant in her ear, 
 Court her as her adorers do their glasse, 
 Though that as much of a true substance has, 
 Whilst all the gall from your wild 3 ink you drain, 
 The beauteous sweets of vertues cheeks to stain ; 
 And in your livery let her be known, 
 As poor and tatter'd as in her own. 
 Nor write, nor speak you more of sacred writ, 
 But what shall force up your arrested wit. 
 Be chast ; religion and her priests your scorn, 
 Whilst the vain fanes of idiots you adorn. 
 It is a mortal errour, you must know, 
 Of any to speak good, if he be so. 
 
 1 Close, or shut up. 
 
 a t. e. write as a means of subsistence. 
 
 3 Unrefined. 
 

 POEMS. 233 
 
 Kayl, till your edged breath flea 1 your raw throat, 
 And burn reniarks 2 on all of gen'rous note ; 
 Each verse be an indictment, be not free 
 Sanctity 't self from thy scurrility. 
 Libel your father, and your dam buffoon, 
 The noblest matrons of the isle lampoon, 
 Whilst Aretine and 's bodies you dispute, 
 And in your sheets your sister prostitute. 
 
 Yet there belongs a sweetnesse, softnesse too, 
 Which you must pay, but first, pray, know to who. 
 There is a creature, (if I may so call 
 That unto which they do all prostrate fall) 
 Term'd mistress, when they'r angry ; but, pleas'd high, 
 It is a princesse, saint, divinity. 
 To this they sacrifice the whole days light, 
 Then lye with their devotion all night ; 
 For this you are to dive to the abysse, 
 And rob for pearl the closet of some fish. 
 Arabia and Sabsea you must strip 
 Of all their sweets, for to supply her lip ; 
 And steal new fire from heav'n, for to repair 
 Her unfledg'd scalp with Berenice's hair ; 
 Then seat her in Cassiopeia's chair. 
 As now you're in your coach : save you, bright sir, 
 (O, spare your thanks) is not this finer far 
 Then walk un-hided, when that every stone 
 Has knock'd acquaintance with your ankle-bone ? 
 When your wing'd papers, like the last dove, nere 
 Eeturn'd to quit you of your hope or fear, 
 
 
 Flay, excoriate. 2 Original reads all marks. 
 
234 POEMS. . 
 
 But left you to the mercy of your host 
 And your days fare, a fortified toast. 1 
 
 How many battels, sung in epick strain, 
 Would have procur'd your head thatch from the rain ? 
 Not all the arms of Thebes and Troy would get 
 One knife but to anatomize your meat, 
 A funeral elegie, with a sad boon, 2 
 Might make you (hei !) sip wine like maccaroon , 3 
 But if perchance there did a riband 4 come, 
 Not the train-band so fierce with all its drum : 
 Yet with your torch you homeward would retire, 
 And heart'ly wish your bed your fun'ral pyre. 
 
 With what a fury have I known you feed 
 Upon a contract and the hopes 't might speed ! 
 Not the fair bride, impatient of delay, 
 Doth wish like you the beauties of that day ; 
 Hotter than all the roasted cooks you sat 
 To dresse the fricace of your alphabet, 
 Which sometimes would be drawn dough anagrame, 5 
 
 1 A hard toasted crust. 
 
 2 A fee or gratuity given to a poet on a mournful occasion, 
 and made more liberal by the circumstances of affliction in which 
 the donors are placed. 
 
 3 Generally, a mere coxcomb or dandy ; but here the poet 
 implies a man about town who is rich enough to indulge in 
 fashionable luxuries. 
 
 4 The ribbon by which the star of an order of knighthood was 
 attached to the breast of the fortunate recipient. It sometimes 
 also stood for the armlet worn by gentlemen in our poet's day, as 
 a mark of some lady's esteem. See Shirley's Poems (Works, 
 vi. 440). 
 
 5 A crude anagram. 
 
POEMS. 235 
 
 Sometimes acrostick parched in the flame ; l 
 Then posies stew'd with sippets, mottos by : 
 Of minced verse a miserable pye. 
 How many knots slip'd, ere you twist their name 
 With th' old device, as both their heart's the same ! 
 Whilst like to drills the feast in your false jaw 
 You would transmit at leisure to your maw ; 
 Then after all your fooling, fat, and wine, 
 Glutton'd at last, return at home to pine. 
 
 Tell me, O Sun, since first your beams did play 
 To night, and did awake the sleeping day ; 
 Since first your steeds of light their race did start, 
 Did you ere blush as now ? Oh thou, that art 
 The common father to the base pissmire, 
 As well as great Alcides, did the fire 
 From thine owne altar which the gods adore, 
 Kindle the souls of gnats and wasps before ? 
 
 Who would delight in his chast eyes to see 
 Borniise to strike at lights of poesie ? 
 Faction and envy now are 2 downright rage. 
 Once a five-knotted whip there was, the stage : 
 The beadle and the executioner, 
 To whip small errors, and the great ones tear ; 
 
 1 An imperfect acrostic. Few readers require to be told that 
 anagrams and acrostics were formerly one of the most fashionable 
 species of composition. Lovelace here pictures a poetaster 
 " stewing " his brains with a poem of this description, which of 
 course demanded a certain amount of tedious and minute atten- 
 tion to the arrangement of the name of the individual to whom the 
 anagram or acrostic was to be addressed, and this was especially 
 the case, where the writer contemplated a double acrostic. 
 
 3 Original reads . 
 
236 POEMS. 
 
 Now, as er'e Nimrod the first king, he writes : 
 
 That's strongest, th' ablest deepest bites. 
 
 The muses weeping fly their hill, to see 
 
 Their noblest sons of peace in mutinie. 
 
 Could there nought else this civil war compleat, 
 
 But poets raging with poetick heat, 
 
 Tearing themselves and th' endlesse wreath, as though 
 
 Immortal they, their wrath should be so, too ? 
 
 And doubly fir'd Apollo burns to see 
 
 In silent Helicon a naumachie. 
 
 Parnassus hears these at his first alarms ; 
 
 Never till now Minerva was in arms. 
 
 more then conqu'ror of the world, great Rome ! 
 Thy heros did with gentleness or'e come 
 
 Thy foes themselves, but one another first, 
 
 Whilst envy stript alone was left, and burst. 
 
 The learn'd Decemviri, 'tis true, did strive, 
 
 But to add flames to keep their fame alive ; 
 
 "Whilst the eternal lawrel hung ith' air : 
 
 Nor of these ten sons was there found one heir. 
 
 Like to the golden tripod, it did pass 
 
 From this to this, till 't came to him, whose 'twas. 
 
 Caesar to Gallus trundled it, and he 
 
 To Maro : Maro, Naso, unto thee ; 
 
 Naso to his Tibullus flung the wreath, 
 
 He to Catullus thus did each bequeath. 
 
 This glorious circle, to another round, 
 
 At last the temples of their god it bound. 
 
 1 might believe at least, that each might have 
 A quiet fame contented in his grave, 
 
 Envy the living, not the dead, doth bite : 
 
POEMS. 237 
 
 For after death all men receave their right. 1 
 If it be sacriledge for to profane 
 Their holy ashes, what is't then their flame ? 
 He does that wrong unweeting 2 or in ire, 
 As if one should put out the vestal fire. 
 
 Let earths four quarters speak, and thou, Sun, bear 
 Now witnesse for thy fellow-traveller. 
 I was ally'd, dear Uncle, 3 unto thee 
 In blood, but thou, alas, not unto me ; 
 Your vertues, pow'rs, and mine differ'd at best, 
 As they whose springs you saw, the east and west. 4 
 Let me awhile be twisted in thy shine, 
 And pay my due devotions at thy shrine. 
 
 1 Ovid, El 15. 
 
 2 Unwitting. 
 
 3 The Lovelaces were connected, not only with the Hammonds 
 Auchers, &c., but on the mother's side with the family of Sandys. 
 See Berry's Kent Genealogies, which, however, are not by any 
 means invariably reliable. The subjoined is partly from 
 Berry : 
 
 Edwin Sandys,=pCecilia, da. of Thomas 
 Archbishop of I Wilford, of Cranbrook, 
 York, ob. 1588. | Co. Kent, Esq. ob. 1610. 
 
 [ Sir]=j 
 Edwin 
 Sandys 
 
 <4thly) Cath- 
 erine, da. of 
 Sir R. Bulke- 
 ley, of Angle- 
 sey. 
 
 GEORGE, trans- 
 lator of the 
 Psalms, &c., ob. 
 1643-4, Love- 
 lace's great- 
 uncle. 
 
 Anne=Sir William 
 Barnes, of 
 Woolwich, 
 the poet's 
 maternal 
 grandfather. 
 
 Richard Sandys Esq.=Hester, da. of Edwin Aucher, second son of 
 Anthony Aucher, Esq., of Bishopsbourne. 
 
 4 [George] Sandys published, in 1615, his " Relation of a 
 Journey Begun A. D. 1610," &c., which became very popular, 
 and was frequently reprinted. 
 
238 POEMS. 
 
 Might learned Waynman 1 rise, who went with thee 
 In thy heav'ns work beside divinity, 
 I should sit still ; or mighty Falkland 2 stand 
 To justifie with breath his pow'rful hand ; 
 The glory, that doth circle your pale urn, 
 Might hallow'd still and undented burn : 
 But I forbear. Flames, that are wildly thrown 
 At sacred heads, curie back upon their own ; 
 Sleep, heavenly Sands, whilst what they do or write, 
 Is to give God himself and you your right. 
 
 There is not in my mind one sullen 3 fate 
 Of old, but is concentred in our state : 
 Yandall ore-runners, Goths in literature : 
 Ploughmen that would Parnassus new-manure ; 
 Eingers of verse that all-in-chime, 
 And toll the changes upon every rime. 
 
 1 " There was Selden, and he sat close by the chair ; 
 
 Wainman not far off, which was very fair." 
 
 SUCKLING'S Session of the Poets. 
 
 2 " Hales set by himself, most gravely did smile 
 
 To see them about nothing keep such a wil ; 
 
 Apollo had spied him, but knowing his mind 
 
 Past by, and call'd Falkland, that sat just behind. 
 
 He was of late so gone with divinity, 
 
 That he had almost forgot his poetry, 
 
 Though to say the truth (and Apollo did know it) 
 
 He might have been both his priest and poet." 
 
 SUCKLING'S Session of the Poets. 
 
 Lord Falkland was a contributor to Jonsonus Virbius, 1638, and 
 was well known in his day as an occasional writer. 
 
 3 Sullen is here used in the sense of mischievous. In Worcester's 
 Dictionary an example is given of its employment by Dryden in 
 a similar signification. 
 
POEMS. 239 
 
 A mercer now by th' yard does measure ore 
 An ode, which was but by the foot before ; 
 Deals you an ell of epigram, and swears 
 It is the strongest and the finest wears. 
 "No wonder, if a drawer verses rack, 
 If 'tis not his, 't may be the spir't of sack ; 
 Whilst the fair bar-maid stroaks the muses teat, 
 For milk to make the posset up compleat. 
 
 Arise, thou rev'rend shade, great Johnson, rise ! 
 Break through thy marble natural disguise ! 
 Behold a mist of insects, whose meer breath 
 Will melt thy hallow'd leaden house of death. 
 What was Crispin us, 1 that you should defie 
 The age for him ? 2 He durst not look so high 
 As your immortal rod, he still did stand 
 Honour'd, and held his forehead to thy brand. 
 These scorpions, with which we have to do, 
 Are fiends, not only small but deadly too. 
 Well mightst thou rive thy quill up to the back, 
 
 1 Thomas Decker, the dramatist and poet, whom Jonson attacked 
 in his Poetaster, 1602, under the name of Crispinus. Decker re- 
 torted in Satiromastix, printed in the same year, in which Jonson 
 appears as Young Horace. 
 
 2 An allusion to the lines : 
 
 " Come, leave the loathed stage, 
 And the more loathsome age," 
 
 prefixed to the New Inne, 1631, 8vo. Jonson's adopted son 
 Randolph expostulated with him on this occasion in the ode be- 
 ginning : 
 
 " Ben, doe not leave the stage, 
 'Cause 'tis a loathsome age." 
 
 RANDOLPH'S Poems, 1640, p. 64. 
 Carew and others did the same. 
 
240 POEMS. 
 
 And scrue thy lyre's grave chords, untill they crack. 
 
 For though once hell resented musick, these 
 
 Divels will not, but are in worse disease. 
 
 How would thy masc'line spirit, father Ben, 
 
 Sweat to behold basely deposed men, 
 
 Justled from the prerog'tive of their bed, 
 
 Whilst wives are per'wig'd with their husbands head ? 
 
 Each snatches the male quill from his faint hand, 
 
 And must both nobler write and understand, 
 
 He to her fury the soft plume doth bow : 
 
 O pen, nere truely justly slit till now ! 
 
 Now as her self a poem she doth dresse. 
 
 And curls a line, as she would do a tresse ; 
 
 Powders a sonnet as she does her hair, 
 
 Then prostitutes them both to publick aire. 
 
 Nor is 't enough, that they their faces blind 
 
 With a false dye ; but they must paint their mind, 
 
 In meeter scold, and in scann'd order brawl, 
 
 Yet there's one Sapho 1 left may save them all. 
 
 But now let me recal my passion. 
 Oh ! (from a noble father, nobler son) 
 You, that alone are the Clarissimi, 
 And the whole gen'rous state of Venice be, 
 It shall not be recorded Sanazar 
 Shall boast inthron'd alone this new made star ; 
 You, whose correcting sweetnesse hath forbad 
 Shame to the good, and glory to the bad ; 
 Whose honour hath ev'n into vertue tam'd 
 
 1 Katherine Philips, the matchless On'nda, b. 1631, d. 1664. 
 Jeremy Taylor addressed to her his " Measures and Offices of 
 Friendship," 1657, and Cowley wrote an ode upon her death. 
 
POEMS. 241 
 
 These swarms, that now so angerly I nam'd. 
 
 Forgive what thus distemper'd I indite : 
 
 For it is hard a satyre not to write. 
 
 Yet, as a virgin that heats all her blood 
 
 At the first motion of bad 1 understood, 
 
 Then, at meer thought of fair chastity, 
 
 Straight cools again the tempests of her sea : 
 So when to you I my devotions raise, 
 All wrath and storms do end in calm and praise. 
 
 COMMENDATORY VERSES, 
 
 PREFIXED TO VARIOUS PUBLICATIONS 
 
 BETWEEN 1652 AND 1657. 
 
 TO MY 
 
 DEAR FRIEND MR. E[LDRED] R[EVETT]. 2 
 ON HIS POEMS MORAL AND DIVINE. 
 
 LEFT as the top of the inspired hill, 
 Struggles the soul of my divided quill, 
 Whilst this foot doth the watry mount aspire, 
 That Sinai's living and enlivening fire, 
 
 1 By motion of bad I presume the poet means wicked impulse. 
 
 2 Revett has some verses to the memory of Lovelace, which 
 will be found among the Elegies at the end of the volume. The 
 present lines were apparently written for a projected edition of 
 Revett's poems, which, for some unknown reason,'was never pub- 
 lished. Revett has also verses prefixed to The Royal Game of 
 
 B 
 
242 POEMS. 
 
 Behold my powers storm'd by a twisted light 
 0' th' Sun and his, first kindled his sight, 
 And my lost thoughts invoke the prince of day, 
 My right to th' spring of it and him do pray. 
 
 Say, happy youth, crown'd with a heav'nly ray 
 Of the first flame, and interwreathed bay, 
 Inform my soul in labour to begin, 
 los or Anthems, Pceans or a Hymne. 
 Shall I a hecatombe on thy tripod slay, 
 Or my devotions at thy altar pay ? 
 While which t' adore th' amaz'd world cannot tell, 
 The sublime Urim or deep oracle. 
 
 Heark ! how the moving chords temper our brain, 
 As when Apollo serenades the main, 
 Old Ocean smooths his sullen furrow'd front, 
 And Nereids do glide soft measures on't ; 
 Whilst th' air puts on its sleekest, smoothest face, 
 And each doth turn the others looking-glasse ; 
 So by the sinewy lyre now strook we see 
 Into soft calms all storm of poesie, 
 And former thundering and lightning lines, 
 And verse now in its native lustre shines. 
 
 How wert thou hid within thyself ! how shut ! 
 Thy pretious Iliads lock'd up in a nut ! 
 Not hearing of thee thou dost break out strong, 
 Invading forty thousand men in song ; 
 
 Chesse Play, 1656; to Ayres and Dialogues, bv John Gambl 
 1656 ; and to Hall's translation of the Comment of Hierochs upo 
 the Golden Verses of Pythagoras, 1657. 
 
POEMS. 243 
 
 And we, secure in our thin empty heat, 
 Now find ourselves at once surprised and beat, 
 Whilst the most valiant of our wits now sue, 
 Fling down their arms, ask quarter too of you. 
 
 So cabin'd up in its disguis'd coarse 1 rust, 
 And scurf 'd all ore with its unseemly crust, 
 The diamond, from 'midst the humbler stones, 
 Sparkling shoots forth the price of nations. 
 
 Ye safe unriddlers of the stars, pray tell, 
 By what name shall I stamp my miracle ? 
 Thou strange inverted ^Eson, that leap'st ore 
 From thy first infancy into fourscore, 
 That to thine own self hast the midwife play'd, 
 And from thy brain spring' st forth 2 the heav'nly maid \ 
 Thou staffe of him bore 3 him, that bore our sins, 
 Which, but set down, to bloom and bear begins ! 
 Thou rod of Aaron, with one motion hurl'd, 
 Bud'st 4 a perfume of flowers through the world ! 
 You 5 strange calcined 6 seeds within a glass, 
 Each species Ida3a spring'st as 'twas ! 
 
 1 Original has course. 
 
 " 2 This is only one instance among many which might be cited 
 from Lucasta of the employment of an intransitive verb in a 
 transitive signification. 
 
 3 i.e. that lore him. 4 t. e. that bud'st. 4 Orig. has thou. 
 6 This word, now employed only in a special sense, was formerly 
 a very common and favourite metaphor. Thus Lord Westmore- 
 land, in his Otia Sacra, 1648, p. 19, says: 
 
 " When all the vertue we can here put on 
 Is but refined imperfection, 
 Corruption calcined " 
 
 See also p. 137 of the same volume. 
 
244 POEMS. 
 
 Bright vestal flame that, kindled but ev'n now, 
 For ever dost thy sacred fires throw ! 
 
 Thus the repeated acts of Nestor's age, 
 That now had three times ore out-liv'd the stage, 
 And all those beams contracted into one, 
 Alcides in his cradle hath outdone. 
 
 But all these ftour'shing hiews, with which I die 
 Thy virgin paper, now are vain as I : 
 For 'bove the poets Heav'n th' art taught to shine 
 And move, as in thy proper crystalline ; 
 Whence that mole-hill Parnassus thou dost view, 
 And us small ants there dabbling in its dew ; 
 Whence thy seraphic soul such hymns doth play, 
 As those to which first danced the first day, 
 Where with a thorn from the world-ransoming wreatl 
 Thou stung, dost antiphons and anthems breathe ; 
 Where with an Angels quil dip'd i' th' Lambs blood, j 
 Thou sing'st our Pelicans all-saving flood, 
 And bath'st thy thoughts in ever-living streams, 
 Rench'd 1 from earth's tainted, fat and heavy steams, j 
 There move translated youth inroll'd i' th' quire, 
 That only doth with wholy lays inspire ; 
 To whom his burning coach Eliah sent, 
 And th' royal prophet-priest his harp hath lent ; 
 Which thou dost tune in consort unto those 
 Clap wings for ever at each hallow'd close : 
 Whilst we, now weak and fainting in our praise, 
 Sick echo ore thy Halleluiahs. 
 
 1 Rinsed. 
 
POEMS. 245 
 
 ON 
 
 THE BEST, LAST, AND ONLY REMAINING 
 
 COMEDY OF MR. FLETCHER. 
 
 THE WILD GOOSE CHASE. 1 
 
 M un-ore-clowded, too ! free from the mist! 
 The blind and late Heaven's-eyes great 
 
 Occulist, 
 
 Obscured with the false fires of his sceme, 
 Not half those souls are lightned by this theme. 
 
 Unhappy murmurers, that still repine 
 (After th' Eclipse our Sun doth brighter shine), 
 Recant your false grief, and your true joys know ; 
 Your blisse is endlesse, as you fear'd your woe ! 
 W r hat fort'nate flood is this ! what storm of wit ! 
 Oh, who would live, and not ore-whelm'd in it ? 
 No more a fatal Deluge shall be hurPd : 
 This inundation hath sav'd the world. 
 Once more the mighty Fletcher doth arise,j 
 Roab'd in a vest studded with stars and ey( 
 Of all his former glories ; his last worth 
 Imbroiderd with what yet light ere brought 
 See ! in this glad farewel he doth appear 
 Stuck with the Constellations of his Sphere, 
 
 1 " The Wild- Goose Chase. A Comedie: As it hath been 
 acted with singular applause at the Blackfriers. Being the 
 Noble, Last, and Onely Remaines of those Incomparable Dramatists, 
 Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Gent. London : Printed 
 for Humphrey Moseley, 1652," folio. 
 
246 POEMS. 
 
 Fearing we numb'd fear'd no flagration, 
 Hath curl'd all his fires in this one one ; 
 Which (as they guard his hallowed chast urn) 
 The dull aproaching hereticks do burn. 
 
 Fletcher at his adieu carouses thus 
 To the luxurious ingenious, 
 As Cleopatra did of old out-vie, 
 Th' un-numb'red dishes of her Anthony, 
 When (he at th' empty board a wonderer) 
 Smiling she 1 calls for pearl and vinegar, 
 First pledges him in's Breath, then at one draught 
 Swallows Three Kingdoms of To his best thought. 
 
 Hear, oh ye valiant writers, and subscribe ; 
 (His force set by) y'are conquered by this bribe. 
 Though you hold out your selves, he doth commit 
 In this a sacred treason in your wit ; 
 Although in poems desperately stout, 
 Give up : this overture must buy you out. 
 
 Thus with some prodigal us'rer 't doth fare, 
 That keeps his gold still vayPd, his steel-breast bare ; 
 That doth exceed his coffers all but's eye, 
 And his eyes' idol the wing'd Deity : 
 That cannot lock his mines with half the art 
 As some rich beauty doth his wretched heart ; 
 Wild at his real poverty, and so wise 
 To win her, turns himself into a prise. 
 
 1 Singer reads he, but original she, as above. Of course Cleo- 
 patra is meant. 
 

 POEMS. 247 
 
 First startles her with th' emerald Mad- Lover 1 
 The ruby Areas, 2 least she should recover 
 Her dazled thought, a Diamond he throws, 
 Splendid in all the bright Aspatia's woes ; 3 
 Then to sum up the abstract of his store, 
 He flings a rope of Pearl of forty 4 more. 
 Ah, see ! the stagg'ring virtue faints ! which he 
 Beholding, darts his Wealths Epitome ; 5 
 And now, to consummate her wished fall, 
 Shows this one Carbuncle, that darkens all. 
 
 TO 
 
 MY NOBLE KINSMAN THOMAS STANLEY, 6 ESQ. ; 
 
 ON HIS LYKICK POEMS COMPOSED 
 
 BY ME. JOHN GAMBLE. 7 
 
 i. 
 HAT means this stately tablature, 
 
 The ballance of thy streins, 
 Which seems, in stead of sifting pure, 
 T' extend and rack thy veins ? 
 
 1 Fletcher's Mad Lover. 2 Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess. 
 
 3 The Maid's Tragedy, by Beaumont and Fletcher, 1619. 
 
 4 Should we not read fifty, and understand the collected edition 
 of Beaumont and Fletcher's Works in 1647? 
 
 5 The Wild -Goose Chase, which is also apparently the Car- 
 buncle mentioned two lines lower down. 
 
 6 Thomas Stanley, Esq., author of the History of Philosophy, 
 and an elegant poet and translator, v. supra. 
 
 Lovelace wrote these lines for Ayres and Dialogues. To be 
 sung to the Theorbo, Lute, or Base- Violl : By John Gamble. 
 London, Printed by William Godbid for the Author, 1656, folio. 
 [The words are by Stanley.] 
 
 7 " Wood, in his account of this person, vol. i. col. 285, con- 
 
248 POEMS. 
 
 Thy Odes first their own harmony did break : 
 For singing, troth, is hut in tune to speak. 
 
 ii. 
 Nor trus 1 thy golden feet and wings. 
 
 It may 2 he thought false melody 3 
 T' ascend to heav'n by silver strings ; 
 
 This is Urania's heraldry. 
 Thy royal poem now we may extol, 
 As 4 truly Luna blazon'd upon Sol. 
 
 in. 
 As when Amphion first did call 
 
 Each listning stone from's den ; 
 And with his 5 lute did form the 6 wall, 
 
 But with his words the men ; 
 So in your twisted numbers now you thus 
 Not only stocks perswade, but ravish us. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thus do your ayrs eccho ore 
 
 The notes and anthems of the sphseres, 
 
 jectures that many of the songs in the above collection (Gamble's 
 Ayres, &c. 1659), were written by the learned Thomas Stanley, 
 Esq., author of the History of Philosophy, and seemingly with 
 good reason, for they resemble, in the conciseness and elegant turn 
 of them, those poems of his printed in 1651, containing trans- 
 lations from Anacreon, Bion, Moschus and others." HAWKINS. 
 
 1 Lucasta and Ayres and Dialogues read thus, which leaves no 
 meaning in this passage. 
 
 8 Old editions have may it. 
 
 3 Harmonic Ayres and Dialogues, &c. 
 
 4 Original reads and, and so also the Ayres and Dialogues. 
 6 Old editions have the. 
 
 6 So the Ayres and Dialogues. Lucasta has his. 
 
POEMS. 249 
 
 And their whole consort back restore, 
 
 As if earth too would blesse Heav'ns ears ; 
 But yet the spoaks, by which they scal'd so high, 
 Gamble hath wisely laid of ut re mi. 
 
 TO DR. F. B[EALE] ; ON HIS BOOK 
 OF CHESSE. 1 
 
 i IE, now unravell'd is the golden fleece : 
 Men, that could only fool at fox and geese, 
 Are new-made polititians 2 by thy book, 
 And both can judge and conquer with a look. 
 
 The hidden fate 3 of princes you unfold ; 
 
 Court, clergy, commons, by your law control'd. 
 
 Strange, serious wantoning all that they 
 
 Bluster'd and clutter'd for, you play. 
 
 1 These lines, among the last which Lovelace ever wrote, 
 were originally prefixed to "The Royal Game of Chesse-Play. 
 Sometimes the Recreation of the late King, with many of the 
 Nobility. Illustrated with almost an hundred gambetts. Being 
 the Study of Biochino, the famous Italian [Published by Francis 
 Beale.]" Lond. 1656, 12mo. 
 
 2 The text of 1656 has, erroneously no doubt, politians. 
 
 3 Text of 1656 has fates. 
 
250 POEMS. 
 
 TO THE GENIUS OF ME. JOHN HALL. 
 
 ON HIS EXACT TRANSLATION OF HIEROCLES HIS 
 COMMENT UPON THE GOLDEN VERSES 
 
 IS not from cheap thanks thinly to repay 
 Th' immortal grove of thy fair-order'd bay 
 Thou planted'st round my humble fane, 2 
 
 that I 
 
 Stick on thy hearse this sprig of Elegie : 
 Nor that your soul so fast was link'd in me, 
 That now I've both, since't has forsaken thee : 
 That thus I stand a Swisse before thy gate, 
 And dare, for such another, time and fate. 
 Alas ! our faiths made different essays, 
 Our Minds and Merits brake two several ways ; 
 Justice commands I wake thy learned dust, 
 And truth, in whom all causes center must. 
 
 Behold ! when but a youth, thou fierce didst whip 
 Upright the crooked age, and gilt vice strip ; 
 
 1 These lines were originally prefixed to " Hierocles upon the 
 Golden Verses of Pythagoras. Teaching a Virtuous and Worthy 
 Life. Translated by John Hall, of Durham, Esquire. Opus 
 Posthumum" Lond. 1657, 12mo. (The copy among the King's 
 pamphlets in the British Museum appears to have been purchased 
 on the 8th Sept. 1656.) The variations between the texts of 
 1656 and 1659 are chiefly literal, but a careful collation has 
 enabled me to rectify one or two errors of the press in Lucasta. 
 
 2 Lovelace refers to the lines which Hall wrote in commenda- 
 'tion of fjitcasta, 1649. 
 
POEMS. 251 
 
 A senator pnetext, 1 that knew'st to sway 2 
 
 The fasces, yet under the ferula ; 
 
 Rank'd with the sage, ere blossome did thy chin, 
 
 Sleeked without, and hair all ore within, 
 
 Who in the school could'st argue as in schools : 
 
 Thy lessons were ev'n academic rules. 
 
 So that fair Cam saw thee matriculate, 
 
 At once a tyro and a graduate. 
 
 At nineteen, what Essayes* have we heheld ! 
 That well might have the book of Dogmas swell'd ; 
 Tough Paradoxes, such as Tully's, thou 
 Didst heat thee with, when snowy was thy brow, 
 When thy undown'd face mov'd the WIUQ to shake, 
 And of the Muses did a decad make. 
 What shall I say? by what allusion bold? 
 None but the Sun was ere so young and old. 
 
 Young reverend shade, ascend awhile ! whilst we 
 !N\)w celebrate this posthume victorie, 
 This victory, that doth contract in death 
 Ev'n all the pow'rs and labours of thy breath. 
 Like the Judean Hero, 4 in thy fall 
 Thou pull'st the house of learning on us all. 
 And as that soldier conquest doubted not, 
 Who but one splinter had of Castriot, 5 
 
 1 The /force Vacivot of Hall, 1646, 16mo., are here meant. 
 
 2 See Beloe's translation of Aulus Geilius, ii. 86. 
 
 3 HorcE Vaciva, or Essays and some Occasional Considerations. 
 Lond. 1646, 16mo., with a portrait of Hall by William Marshall, 
 an. cet. 19. 4 Sampson. 
 
 5 Scanderbeg, whose real name was George CASTRIOT. Cas- 
 triot is also one of the dramatis persona in Fletcher's Knight 
 of Malta. 
 
252 POEMS. 
 
 But would assault ev'n death so strongly charmd, 
 And naked oppose rocks, with his l bone 2 arm'd ;' 
 So we, secure in this fair relique, stand 3 
 The slings and darts shot by each profane hand. 
 These soveraign leaves thou left'st us are become 
 Sear clothes against all Times infection. 
 
 Sacred Hierocles, whose heav'nly thought 
 First acted ore this comment, ere it wrote, 4 
 Thou hast so spirited, elixir'd, we 
 Conceive there is a noble alchymie, 
 That's turning of this gold to something more 
 Pretious than gold, we never knew before. 
 Who now shall doubt the metempsychosis 
 Of the great Author, that shall peruse this ? 
 Let others dream thy shadow wandering strays 
 In th' Elizian mazes hid with bays ; 
 Or that, snatcht up in th' upper region, 
 ? Tis kindled there a constellation ; 
 I have inform'd me, and declare with ease : 
 Thy Soul is fled into Hierocles. 
 
 1 So the text of 1656, i. e. of the lines as originally written 
 bv the poet. Lucasta, 1659, erroneously has this. 
 
 2 " And he found a new jawbone of an ass, and put forth his 
 hand and took it, and slew a thousand men therewith.' 1 Judges, 
 xv. 15. 
 
 3 t. e. withstand. 
 
 4 So the text of 1656. Lucasta has wrought. 
 
TRANSLATIONS. 
 
TKANSLATIONES. 
 
 SANAZARI HEXASTICOX. 
 
 IDERAT Adriacis quondam Neptunus in 
 
 undis 
 
 Stare urbem et toto ponere Jura mari : 
 Nunc mihi Tarpeias a quantum vis, Jupiter, 
 
 Arces 
 
 Objice et ilia mini mcenia Martis, ait, 
 Seu pelago Tibrim prefers, urbem aspice utramque, 
 Illam homines dices, hanc posuisse deos. 
 
 IN VIRGILIUM. PENTADII. 
 PASTOR, arator, eques ; pavi, colui, superavi ; 
 Capras, rus, hostes ; fronde, ligone, manu. 
 
 DE SOEVOLA. 
 LICTOBEM pro rege necans nunc mutius ultro 
 
 Sacrifice propriam concremat igne manum : 
 Miratur Porsenna virum, psenamque relaxans 
 
 Maxima cum obscessis fsedera a victor init, 
 Plus flammis patrise confert quam fortibus armis, 
 
 Una domans bellum funere dextra sua. 
 
 a Rome. 
 
TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 SANAZAR'S HEXASTICK. 
 N Adriatick waves when Neptune saw, 
 The city stand, and give the seas a law : 
 Now i' th' Tarpeian tow'rs Jove rival me, 
 And Mars his walls impregnable, said he ; 
 Let seas to Tyber yield; view both their ods I 1 
 You'l grant that built by men, but this by gods. 
 
 IN ENGLISH. 
 
 A SWAIN, hind, knight : I fed, tilPd, did command : 
 Goats, fields, my foes : with leaves, a spade, my hand. 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 THE hand, by which no king but serjeant 2 dies, 
 Mutius in fire doth freely sacrifice ; 
 The prince admires the Hero, quits his pains, 
 And Victor from the seige peace entertains ; 
 Rome's more oblig'd to flames than arms or pow'r, 
 When one burnt hand shall the whole war devour. 3 
 
 1 Points of difference or contrast. For let seas, &c., we ought 
 to read shall seas, &c. 
 
 2 A somewhat imperfect rendering of Lictor. 
 
 3 The reader will easily judge for himself of the valueless 
 character of these translations ; but it is only just to Lovelace to 
 suggest that they were probably academic exercises only, and at 
 
256 POEMS. 
 
 DE CATONE. 
 
 INVICTUS victis in partibus omnia Csesar 
 Vincere qui potuit, te, Cato, non potuit. 
 
 ITEM. 
 Ictu non potuit primo Cato solvere yitam ; 
 
 Defecit tanto vulnere victa manus : 
 Altius inseruit digitos, qua spiritus ingens 
 
 Exiret, magnum dextera fecit iter. 
 Opposuit fortuna moram, involvitque, Catonis 
 
 Scires ut ferro plus valuisse manum. 
 
 ITEM. 
 JUSSA manus sacri pectus violare Catonis 
 
 Hsesit, et inceptum victa reliquit opus. 
 Ille ait, infesto contra sua vulnera vultu : 
 
 Estne aliquid, magnus quod Cato non potuit ? 
 
 ITEM. 
 DEXTERA, quid dubitas ? durum est jugulare Catonem ; 
 
 Sed modo liber erit : jam puto non dubitas ! 
 Fas non est vivo quenquam servire Catone, 
 
 Nedum ipsum vincit nunc Cato si moritur. 
 
 PENTADII. 
 
 NON est, fulleris, hsec beata non est 
 Quod vos creditis esse, vita non est : 
 Fulgentes manibus videre gemmas 
 Et testudineo jacere lecto, 
 
 the same time to submit that they are not much worse than 
 Marlowe's translation of Ovid, and many other versions of the 
 Classics then current. 
 
POEMS. 257 
 
 OF CATO. 
 
 THE world orecome, victorious Caesar, he 
 That conquer'd all, great Cato, could not thee. 
 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 ONE stabbe could not fierce Cato's J life unty ; 
 Onely his hand of all that wound did dy. 
 Deeper his fingers tear to make a way 
 ' Open, through which his mighty soul might stray. 
 Fortune made this delay to let us know, 
 That Cato's hand more then his sword could do. 
 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 THE hand of sacred Cato, bad to tear 
 His breast, did start, and the made wound forbear ; 
 Then to the gash he said with angry brow : 
 And is there ought great Cato cannot do ? 
 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 WHAT doubt'st thou, hand? sad Cato 'tis to kill ; 
 But he'l be free : sure, hand, thou doubt'st not still ! 
 Cato alive, 'tis just all men be free : 
 Xor conquers he himself, now if he die. 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 I IT is not, y' are deceav'd, it is not blisse 
 What you conceave a happy living is : 
 To have your hands with rubies bright to glow, 
 Then on your tortoise-bed your body throw, 
 
 I 
 
 1 Cato of Utica. 
 
258 POEMS. 
 
 Aut pluma latus abdidisse molli, 
 Aut auro bibere, aut cubare cocco ; 
 Regales dapibus gravare mensas, 
 Et quicquid Lybico secatur arvo ; 
 Non una positum tenere cella : 
 Sed nullos trepidum timere casus, 
 Nee vano populi favore tangi, 
 Et stricto nibil sestuare ferro : 
 Hoc quisquis poterit, lieebit illi 
 Fortunam moveat loco superbus. 
 
 AD M. T. CICERONEM. 
 
 Catul Ep. 50. 
 
 DISERTISSIME Romuli nepotum, 
 Quot sunt, quotque fuere, Marce Tulli, 
 Quotque post alios erunt in annos, 
 Gratias tibi maximas Catullus 
 Agit, pessimus omnium poeta : 
 Tanto pessimus omnium poeta, 
 Quanto tu optimus omnium patronus. 
 
 AD JUVENCIUM. CAT. EP. 49. 
 MELLITOS oculos tuos, Juvenci, 
 Si quis me sinat usque basiare, 
 Usque ad millia basiem trecenta ; 
 Nee unquam videat satur futurus : 
 Non si densior aridis aristis, 
 Sit nostrae seges osculationis. 
 
 DE PUERO ET PR^CONE. CATUL. 
 CUM puero bello prseconem qui videt esse, 
 Quid credat, nisi se vendere discupere ? 
 
POEMS. 259 
 
 And sink your self in down, to drink in gold, 
 And have jour looser self in purple roll'd ; 
 With royal fare to make the tables groan, 
 Or else with what from Lybick fields is mown, 
 Nor in one vault hoard all your magazine, 
 But at no cowards fate t' have frighted bin ; 
 Nor with the peoples breath to be swol'n great, 
 Nor at a drawn stiletto basely swear. 
 He that dares this, nothing to him's unfit, 
 But proud o' th' top of fortunes wheel may sit. 
 
 TO MARCUS T. CICERO. 
 
 In an English Pentastidc. 
 TTJLLY to thee, Rome's eloquent sole heir, 
 The best of all that are, shall be, and were, 
 I the worst poet send my best thanks and pray'r : 
 Ev'n by how much the worst of poets I, 
 By so much you the best of patrones be. 
 
 TO JUVENCIUS. 
 JUVENCIUS, thy fair sweet eyes 
 If to my fill that I may kisse, 
 Three hundred thousand times I'de kisse, 
 Nor future age should cloy this blisse ; 
 No, not if thicker than ripe ears 
 The harvest of our kisses bears. 
 
 CATUL. 
 
 WITH a fair boy a cryer we behold, 
 What should we think, but he would not be sold 7 1 
 
 1 Lovelace has made nonsense of this passage. We ought to 
 read rather, " but that he would be sold !" 
 
260 POEMS. 
 
 FORTH LICINII. 
 
 Si Phcebi soror es, mando tibi, Delia, causam, 
 Scilicet, ut fratri quse peto verba feras : 
 
 Marmore Sicanio struxi tibi, Delpliice, templum, 
 Et levibus calamis Candida verba dedi. 
 
 Nunc, si nos audis, atque es divinus Apollo, 
 Die mihi, qui nummos non habet unde petat. 
 
 SENECJE EX CLEANTHE. 
 Due me, Parens celsique Dominator poli, 
 Quocunque placuit, nulla parendi mora est ; 
 Adsum impiger ; fac nolle, comitabor gemens, 
 Malusque patiar facere, quod licuit bono. 
 Ducunt volentem Fata, nolentem trahunt. 
 
 QUINTI CATULI. 
 CONSTITERAM exorientem Auroram forte salutans, 
 
 Cum subito a Iseva Eoscius exoritur. 
 Pace mihi liceat, coelestes, dicere vestra, 
 
 Mortalis visu pulchrior esse deo. 
 Blanditur puero satyrus vultuque manuque ; 
 
 I^olenti similis retrabit ora puer : 
 Quern non commoveat, quamvis de marmore ? fundit 
 
 Pene preces satyrus, pene puer lachrymas. 
 
 FLORIDI. DE EBRIOSO. 
 
 PHCEBUS me in somnis vetuit potare Lyseum, 
 
 Pareo prseceptis : tune bibo cum vigilo. 
 
POEMS. 261 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 IF you are Phoebus sister, Delia, pray, 
 This my request unto the Sun convay : 
 
 Delphick god, I built thy marble fane, 
 And sung thy praises with a gentle cane, 1 
 Now, if thou art divine Apollo, tell, 
 Where he, whose purse is empty, may go fill. 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 PARENT and Prince of Heav'n, O lead, I pray, 
 Where ere you please, I follow and obey. 
 Active I go, sighing, if you gainsay, 
 And suffer bad what to the good was law. 
 Eates lead the willing, but im willing draw. 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 As once I bad good morning to the day, 
 O' th' sudden Roscius breaks in a bright ray : 
 Gods with your favour, I've presum'd to see 
 A mortal fairer then a deitie. 
 With looks and hands a satyre courts the boy, 
 Who draws back his unwilling cheek as coy. 
 Although of marble hewn, whom move not they ? 
 The boy ev'n seems to weep, the satyre, pray. 
 
 OF A DRUNKARD. 
 Phoebus asleep forbad me wine to take : 
 
 1 yield ; and now am only drunk awake. 
 
 1 Reed or pipe. 
 
262 POEMS. 
 
 DE ASINO QUI DENTIBUS yENEIDEM CONSUMPSIT. 
 CARMINIS iliaci libros consumpsit asellus ; 
 Hoc fatum Troise est : aut equus, aut asinus. 
 
 AUSONIUS LIB. EPIG. 
 THINAIIII quodam currentem in littoris ora 
 
 Ante canes leporem cseruleus rapuit ; 
 At a lepus : in me omnis terrse pelagique rapina est, 
 
 Forsitan et cceli, si canis astra tenet. 
 
 AUSONIUS LIB. EPIG. 
 POLLA, potenta, tribon, baculus, scjphus : arcta supellex 
 
 Hsec fuerant Cinici, sed putat hanc nimiam : 
 Namque cavis manibus cernens potare bubulcum, 
 
 Cur, scyphe, te, dixit, gusto supervacuum ? 
 
 AUSONIUS LIB. I. EPIG. 
 THESAURO invento qui limina mortis inibat, 
 
 Liquit ovans laqueum, quo periturus erat ; 
 At qui, quod terra abdiclerat, non repperit aurum, 
 
 Quern laqueum invenit nexuit, et periit. 
 
 A LA CHABOT. 
 
 OBJECT adorable et charmant ! 
 
 Mes souspirs et mes pleurs tesmoignent mon torment ; 
 Mais mon respect b m'empeche de parler. 
 Ah ! que peine dissimuler ! 
 Et que je souffre de martyre, 
 D'aimer et de n'oser le dire ! 
 
 8 Qu. a contraction of ait. b Original has mes respects. 
 
POEMS. 263 
 
 THE ASSE EATING THE ^ENEIDS. 
 A WBETCHED asse the ^Eneids did destroy : 
 A horse or asse is still the fate of Troy. 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 ON the Sicilian strand a hare well wrought 
 Before the hounds was by a dog-fish caught ; 
 Quoth she : all rape of sea and earth's on me, 
 Perhaps of heav'n, if there a dog-star be. 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 THE Cynicks narrow houshould stuffe of crutch, 
 A stool and dish, was lumber thought too much : 
 For whilst a hind drinks out on's palms o' th' strand 
 He flings his dish : cries : I've one in my hand ! 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 A TBEASUBE found one, entring at death's gate. 
 Triumphing leaves that cord, was meant his fate ; 
 But he the gold missing, which he did hide, 
 The halter which he found he knit : so dy'd. 
 
 TO THE SAME AYRE IN ENGLISH, THUS, 
 
 OBJECT adorable of charms ! 
 
 My sighs and tears may testifie my harms ; 
 
 But my respect forbids me to reveal. 
 
 Ah, what a pain 'tis to conceal ! 
 
 And how I suffer worse then hell, 
 
 To love, and not to dare to tell ! 
 
264 POEMS. 
 
 THEOPHILE BEING DENY'D HIS ADDRESSES TO 
 
 KING JAMES, TURNED THE AFFRONT TO HIS 
 
 OWN GLORY IN THIS EPIGRAM. 
 
 Si Jaques, le Koy du scavior, 
 Ne trouue bon de me voir, 
 
 Voila la cause infallible ! 
 Car, ravy de mon escrit, 
 II creut, que j'estois tout esprit 
 
 Et par consequent invisible. 
 
 AUSONIUS. 
 VANE, quid affectas faciem mihi ponere, pietor, 
 
 Ignotamque oculis solicitare manu? 
 Aeris et venti sum filia, mater inanis 
 
 Indicii, vocemque sine mente gero. 
 Auribus in vestris habito penetrabilis echo ; 
 
 Si mihi vis similem pingere, pinge sonos* 
 
 AUSON[IUSJ. 
 TOXICA zelotypo dedit uxor msecha marito, 
 
 Nee satis ad mortem credidit esse datum ; 
 Miscuit argenti lethalia pondera vivi, 
 
 Ut celeret certam vis geminata necem. 
 Ergo, inter sese dum noxia pocula certant, 
 
 Cessit lethalis noxa saltuiferi. 
 Protinus in vacuos alvi petiere recessus, 
 
 Lubrica dejectis quse via nota cibis. 
 Quam pia cura Deum ! prodest crudelior uxor. 
 
 Sic, cum fata volunt, bina venena juvant. 
 
POEMS. 265 
 
 LINEALLY TRANSLATED OUT OF THE FRENCH. 
 
 IF James, the king of wit, 
 To see me thought not fit, 
 
 Sure this the cause hath heen, 
 That, ravish'd with my merit, 
 He thought I was all spirit, 
 
 And so not to be seen. 
 
 IN ENGLISH. 
 
 VAIN painter, why dost strive my face to draw 
 With busy hands ? a goddesse eyes nere saw. 
 Daughter of air and wind, I do rejoyce 
 In empty shouts ; (without a mind) a voice. 
 Within your ears shrill echo I rebound, 
 And, if you'l paint me like, then paint a sound. 
 
 IN ENGLISH. 
 
 HER jealous husband an adultresse gave 
 
 Cold poysons, which to[o] weak she thought for's grave ; 
 
 A fatal dose of quicksilver then she 
 
 Mingles to hast his double destinie ; 
 
 Now whilst within themselves they are at strife, 
 
 The deadly potion yields to that of life, 
 
 And straight from th' hollow stomack both retreat 
 
 To th' slippery pipes known to digested meat. 
 
 Strange care o' th' gods the murth'resse doth avail ! 
 
 So, when fates please, ev'n double poysons heal. 
 
266 POEMS. 
 
 AUSONIUS EPIG. 
 EMPTIS quod libris tibi bibliotheca referta est, 
 
 Doctum et grammaticum te, philomuse, putas. 
 Quinetiam cytharas, chordas et barbita conde : 
 
 Mercator hodie, eras citharcedus, eris. 
 
 AVIENI* V. C. AD AMICOS. 
 KURE morans, quid agam, respond!, pauca rogatus 
 Mane, deum exoro famulos, post arvaque viso, 
 Partitusque meis justos indico labores ; 
 Inde lego, Phcebumque cio, Musamque lacesso ; 
 Tune oleo corpus fingo, mollique palaestra 
 Stringo libens animo, gaudensque ac fcenore liber 
 Prandeo, poto, cano, ludo, lavo, cseno, quiesco. 
 
 AD FABULLUM. CATUL. LIB. I. EP. 13. 
 CJENABIS bene, mi Fabulle, apud me 
 Paucis, si dii tibi favent, diebus ; 
 Si tecum attuleris bonam atque magnam 
 Csenam, non sine Candida puella, 
 Et vino, et sale, et omnibus cacbinnis. 
 Hsec si, inquam, attuleris, Fabulle noster, 
 Csenabis bene : nam tui Catulli 
 Plenus sacculus est aranearum. 
 Sed, contra, accipies meros amores, 
 Seu quod suavius elegantiusve est : 
 Nam unguentum dabo, quod mese puellse 
 Donarunt Veneres Cupidinesque ; 
 Quod tu cum olfacies, deos rogabis, 
 Totum te faciant, Fabulle, nasum. 
 
 a Rufus Festus Avienus, the Latin poet. 
 
POEMS. 267 
 
 IN ENGLISH. 
 
 BECAUSE with bought books, sir, your study's fraught, 
 A learned grammarian you would fain be thought ; 
 N"ay then, buy lutes and strings ; so you may play 
 The merchant now, the fidler, the next day. 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 Ask'd in the country what I did, I said : 
 I view my men and meads, first having pray'd ; 
 Then each of mine hath his just task outlay'd ; 
 I read, Apollo court, I rouse my Muse ; 
 Then I anoynt me, and stript willing loose 
 My self on a soft plat, from us'ry blest ; 
 I dine, drink, sing, play, bath, I sup, I rest. 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 Fabullus, I will treat you handsomely 
 Shortly, if the kind gods will favour thee. 
 If thou dost bring with thee a dePcate messe, 
 An olio or so, a pretty lass, 
 Brisk wine, sharp tales, all sorts of drollery, 
 These if thou bringst (I say) along with thee, 
 You shah 1 feed highly, friend : for, know, the ebbs 
 Of my lank purse are full of spiders webs ; 
 But then again you shall receive clear love, 
 Or what more grateful or more sweet may prove : 
 For with an ointment I will favour thee 
 My Yenus's and Cupids gave to me, 
 Of which once smelt, the gods thou wilt implore, 
 Fabullus, that they'd make thee nose all ore. 
 
268 POEMS. 
 
 MART. LIB. I. EPI. 14. 
 
 CASTA suo gladium cum traderet Arria Pseto, 
 Quern de visceribus traxerat ipsa suis ; 
 
 Si qua fides, vulnus quod feci non dolet, inquit ; 
 Sed quod tu facies, hoc mini, Paste, dolet. 
 
 MART. EPI. XLIII. LIB. 1. 
 
 CO^JUGIS audisset fatum cum Portia Bruti, 
 Et substracta sibi qusereret arma dolor, 
 
 Nondum scitis, ait, mortem non posse negari, 
 Credideram satis hoc vos docuisse patrem. 
 
 Dixit, et ardentes avido bibit ore favillas. 
 I nunc, et ferrum turba molesta nega. 
 
 MART. EP. XV. LIB. 6. 
 
 DUM Phaetontea formica vagatur in umbra, 
 Implicuit tenuem succina gutta feram, 
 
 Dignum tantorum pretium tulit ilia laborum : 
 Credibile est ipsam sic voluisse mori. 
 
 MAR. LIB. IV. EP. 33. 
 
 ET latet et lucet, Phaetontide condita gutta 
 Ut videatur apis nectare clausa suo. 
 
 Sic modo, qua? fuerat vita contempta manente, 
 Funeribus facta est jam preciosa suis. 
 
POEMS. 269 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 WHEN brave chast Arria to her Pcetus gave 
 The sword from her own breast did bleeding wave 
 If there be faith, this wound smarts not, said she ; 
 But what you'l make, ah, that will murder me. 
 
 IN ENGLISH. 
 
 WHEN Portia her dear lord's sad fate did hear, 
 And noble grief sought arms were hid from her 
 Know you not yet no hinderance of death is, 
 Cato, I thought, enough had taught you this, 
 So said, her thirsty lips drink naming coales : 
 Go now, deny me steel, officious fools ! 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 WHILST in an amber-shade the ant doth feast, 
 A gummy drop ensnares the small wild-beast, 
 A full reward of all her toyls hath she ; 
 'Tis to be thought she would her self so die. 
 
 IN ENGLISH. 
 
 BOTH lurks and shines, hid in an amber tear, 
 The bee, in her own nectar prisoner ; 
 So she, who in her life time was contemned, 
 Ev'n in her very funerals is gemm'd. 
 
270 POEMS. 
 
 MART. LIB. VIII. EP. 19. 
 PAUPEB, videri Cinna vult, et est pauper. 
 
 OUT OF THE ANTHOLOGIES 
 
 rov Ayvov uos iAA&v O.TTO 
 
 IN RUFUM. CATUL. EP. 64. 
 
 NOLI admirari, quare tibi foemina nulla, 
 
 Eufe, velit tenerum supposuisse femur ; 
 Non ullam rarse labefactes munere vestis, 
 
 Aut pellucidulis deliciis lapidis. 
 La3dit te qusedam mala fabula, qua tibi fertur 
 
 Valle sub alarum trux habitare caper. 
 Hunc metuunt omnes, neque mirum : nam mala valde est 
 
 Bestia, nee quieum b bella puella cubet. 
 Quare aut crudelem nasorum interfice pestem, 
 
 Aut admirari desine, cur fugiant. 
 
 CATUL. EP. 71. 
 De Inconstantid foeminei amoris. 
 
 NULLI se dicit mulier mea nubere velle, 
 Quam mihi : non, si Jupiter ipse petat ; 
 
 Dicit ; sed mulier cupido quod dicit amanti, 
 In vento et rapida scribere oportet aqua. 
 
 a This is from Lucian. b An archaic form of quocum. 
 
POEMS. 271 
 
 IX ENGLISH, 
 
 Cinna seems l poor in show, 
 And he is so. 
 
 IN AN ENGLISH DISTICK. 
 
 A FOOL, much bit by fleas, put out the light ; 
 You shall not see me now (quoth he) ; good night. 
 
 TO RUFUS. 
 
 THAT no fair woman will, wonder not why, 
 Clap (Kufiis) under thine her tender thigh ; 
 Not a silk gown shall once melt one of them, 
 Nor the delights of a transparent gemme. 
 A scurvy story kills thee, which doth tell, 
 That in thine armpits a fierce goat doth dwell. 
 Him they all fear full of an ugly stench : 2 
 Nor 's 't fit he should lye with a handsome wench ; 
 Wherefore this noses cursed plague first crush, 
 Or cease to wonder, why they fly you thus. 
 
 FEMALE INCONSTANCY. 
 
 MY mistresse sayes she'll marry none but me ; 
 No, not if Jove himself a suitor be. 
 She sayes so ; but what women say to kind 
 Lovers, we write in rapid streams and wind. 
 
 1 A very inadequate translation of videri vult. 
 
 2 Original has stinch. 
 
272 POEMS. 
 
 AD LESBIAM, CAT. EP. 73. 
 DICEBAS quondam, solum te nosse Catullum, 
 
 [Lesbia, nee prse me velle tenere Jovem ; 
 Dilexi turn te, non tantum ut vulgus amicam, 
 
 Sed pater ut gnatos diligit et generos. 
 Nunc te cognovi, quare et impensius uror, 
 
 Multo mi tarn en es vilior et levior. 
 Qui potis est inquis, quod amantem injuria talis 
 
 Cogat amare magis, sed bene velle minus ? 
 Odi et amo ; quare id faciam, fortasse requiris ; 
 
 Nescio ; sed fieri sentio, et excrucior. 
 
 IN LESBIAM CAT. EP. 76. 
 
 Hue est mens deducta tua, mea Lesbia, culpa, 
 Atque ita se officio perdidit ipsa suo. 
 
 Ut jam nee bene velle queam tibi, si optima sias : 
 Nee desistere amare, omnia si facias. 
 
 AD QUINTIUM. CAT. EP. 83. 
 
 QUINTI, si tibi vis oculos debere Catullum, 
 
 Aut aliud si quid carius est oculis, 
 Eripere ei noli, multo quod carius illi 
 
 Est oculis, seu quid carius est oculis. 
 
 DE QUINTIA ET LESBIA. EP. 87. 
 
 QUINTIA formosa est multis, mihi Candida, longa, 
 Kecta est ; haec ego sic singula confiteor : 
 
POEMS. 273 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 THAT me alone you lov'd, you once did say, 
 
 Nor should I to the king of gods give way. 
 
 Then I lov'd thee not as a common dear, 
 
 But as a father doth his children chear. 
 
 Now thee I know, more bitterly I smart ; 
 
 Yet thou to me more light and cheaper art. 
 
 What pow'r is this ? that such a wrong should press 
 
 Me to love more, yet wish thee well much lesse. 
 
 I hate and love ; would'st thou the reason know ? 
 
 I know not ; but I burn, and feel it so. 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 BY thy fault is my mind brought to that pass, 
 That it its office quite forgotten has : 
 For be'est thou best, I cannot wish thee well, 
 And be'est thou worst, then I must love thee still. 
 
 TO QUINTIUS. 
 
 Quintius, if you'l endear Catullus eyes, 
 Or what he dearer then his eyes doth prize, 
 Eavish not what is dearer then his eyes, 
 Or what he dearer then his eyes doth prize. 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 Quintia is handsome, fair, tall, straight : all these 
 Very particulars I grant with ease : 
 T 
 
274 POEMS. 
 
 Tota illud formosa nego : nam multa venustas ; 
 
 Nulla in tarn magno est corpore mica salis. 
 Lesbia formosa est quse, cum pulcherrima tota est, 
 
 Turn omnibus una omneis surripuit veneres. 
 
 DE SUO IN LESBIAM AMORE. EP. 88. 
 NULLA potest mulier tantum se dicere amatam 
 
 Vere, quantum a me Lesbia amata mea est ; 
 Nulla fides ullo fiiit unquam fsedere tanta, 
 
 Quanta in amore suo ex parte reperta mea est. 
 
 AD SYLONEM. EP. 104. 
 AUT sodes mihi redde decem sestertia, Sylo, 
 
 Deindo esto quam vis ssevus et indomitus ; 
 Aut si te nummi delectant, desine, quseso, 
 
 Leno esse, atque idem ssevus et indomitus. 
 
POEMS. 275 
 
 But she all ore 's not handsome ; here's her fault : 
 In all that bulk there's not one come of salt, 
 Whilst Ijesbia, fair and handsome too all ore, 
 All graces and all wit from all hath bore. 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 No one can boast her self so much belov'd, 
 Truely as Lesbia my affections prov'd ; 
 No faith was ere with such a firm knot bound, 
 As in my love on my part I have found. 
 
 ENGLISHED. 
 
 Sylo, pray pay me my ten sesterces, 
 Then rant and roar as much as you shall please ; 
 Or if that mony takes [you,] l pray, give ore 
 To be a pimp, or else to rant and roar. 
 
 1 Original has takes, but a word is wanting to complete the 
 metre, and perhaps the poet wrote takes you, t. e. captivates you. 
 
ELEGIES 
 
 SACRED 
 
 To the Memory of the 
 
 AUTHOR: 
 
 By feveral of his Friends. 
 
 Collected and Publifhed 
 BY 
 
 D. P. L. 
 
 Nunquam ego te vita f rater ambilior 
 Adfpiciam poftbac ; at certefemper amabo. 
 
 Catullus. 
 
 London, Printed 1660. 
 
ELEGIES. 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF MY WORTHY FRIEND, 
 COLL. RICHARD LOVELACE. 1 
 
 O pay my love to thee, and pay it so, 
 As honest men should what they justly owe, 
 Were to write better of thy life, then can 
 The assured'st pen of the most worthy man. 
 
 Such was thy composition, such thy mind, 
 
 Improv'd from vertue, and from vice refin'd ; 
 
 Thy youth an abstract of the world's best parts, 
 
 Invr'd to arms and exercis'd to arts, 
 
 Which, with the vigour of a man, became 
 
 Thine and thy countries piramids of fame. 
 
 Two glorious lights to guide our hopeful youth 
 
 Into the paths of honour and of truth. 
 
 These parts (so rarely met) made up in thee, 
 
 What man should in his full perfection be : 
 
 So sweet a temper into every sence 
 
 1 These lines may be found, with some verbal variations, in 
 the poems of Charles Cotton, 1689, p. 481-2-3. 
 
280 ELEGIES. 
 
 And each affection breath'd an influence, 
 
 As smooth'd them to a calme, which still withstood 
 
 The ruffing passions of untamed Wood, 
 
 Without a wrinckle in thy face, to show 
 
 Thy stable breast could a 1 disturbance know. 
 
 In fortune humble, constant in mischance ; 
 
 Expert in both, and both serv'd to advance 
 
 Thy name by various trialls of thy spirit, 
 
 And give the testimony of thy merit. 
 
 Valiant to envy of the bravest men, 
 
 And learned to an undisputed pen ; 
 
 Good as the best in both and great, but yet 
 
 No dangerous courage nor offensive wit. 
 
 These ever serv'd the one for to defend, 
 
 The other, nobly to advance thy friend, 
 
 Under which title I have found my name 
 
 Fix'd in the living chronicle of fame 
 
 To times succeeding : yet I hence must go, 
 
 Displeas'd I cannot celebrate thee so. 
 
 But what respect, acknowledgement and love, 
 
 What these together, when improv'd, improve : 
 
 Call it by any name (so it express 
 
 Ought like a tribute to thy worthyness, 
 
 And may my bounden gratitude become) 
 
 LOVELACE, I offer at thy honour'd tomb. 
 
 And though thy vertues many friends have bred 
 To love thee liveing, and lament thee dead, 
 
 1 This reading is adopted from Cotton's Poems, 1689, p. 482. 
 In Lucasta we read no disturbance. 
 
ELEGIES. 281 
 
 In characters far better couch'd then these, 
 Mine will not blott thy fame, nor theirs encrease. 
 'Twas by thine own great merits rais'd so high, 
 That, maugre time and fate, it shall not dye. 
 
 Sic flevit. 
 CHARLES COTTON. 
 
 UPON THE POSTHUME AND PRECIOUS POEMS 
 OF THE NOBLY EXTRACTED GEN- 
 TLEMAN MR. R. L. 1 
 
 HE rose and 2 other fragrant flowers smell 
 
 best, 
 When they are pluck'd and worn in hand 
 
 or brest, 
 
 So this fair flow'r of vertue, this rare bud 
 Of wit, smells now as fresh as when he stood ; 
 And in these Posthume-Poems lets us know, 
 He on 3 the banks of Helicon did grow. 
 The beauty of his soul did correspond 
 With his sweet out-side : nay, it went 4 beyond. 
 
 1 These lines, originally printed as above, were included by 
 Payne Fisher in his collection of Howell's Poems, 1663, 8vo., 
 where they may be found at p. 126. Fisher altered the super- 
 scription in his ill-edited book to " Upon the Posthume-Poe/na 
 of Mr. Lovelace." 
 
 a With Howell's Poems. 
 
 3 That he upon ibid . 
 
 4 If not go beyond ibid. 
 
282 ELEGIES. 
 
 LOVELACE, the minion 1 of the Thespian dames, 
 Apollo's darling, born with Enthean flames, 
 Which in his numbers wave and shine so clear, 
 As sparks refracted from 2 rich gemmes appear ; 
 Such flames that may inspire, and atoms cast, 
 To make new poets not like him in hast. 3 
 
 JAM. Ho WELL. 
 
 AN ELEGIE, 
 
 SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF MY LATE 
 HONOURED FRIEND, COLLONELL ' 
 RICHARD LOVELACE. 
 
 lest shade), that I thus crowd to be 
 'Mong those that sin unto thy memory, 
 And that I think unvalu'd reliques spread, 
 And am the first that pillages the dead ; 
 
 Since who would be thy mourner as befits, 
 
 But an officious sacriledge commits. 
 
 How my tears strive to do thee fairer right, 
 
 And from the characters divide my sight. 
 
 Untill it (dimmer) a new torrent swells, 
 
 And what obscur'd it, falls my spectacles 
 
 1 Fr. Mignon, darling. 
 
 2 So in Howell's Poems. Lucasta has in. 
 
 3 " Such sparks that with their atoms may inspire 
 
 The reader with a pure poetick fire." 
 
 HOWELL'S Poems, 
 
ELEGIES. 283 
 
 Let the luxurious floods impulsive rise, 
 As they would not be wept, but weep the eyes, 
 The while earth melts, and we above it lye 
 But the weak bubbles of mortalitie ; 
 Until our griefs are drawn up by the Sun, 
 And that (too) drop the exhalation. 
 How in thy dust we humble now our pride, 
 And bring thee a whole people mortifi'd ! 
 For who expects not death, now thou art gone, 
 Shows his low folly, not religion. 
 
 Can the poetick heaven still hold on 
 The golden dance, when the first mover's gon ? 
 And the snatch'd fires (while circularly hurl'd) 
 In their strong rapture glimmer to the world, 
 And not stupendiously rather rise 
 The tapers unto these solemnities ? 
 
 Can the chords move in tune, when thou dost dye, 
 At once their universal harmony ? 
 But where Apollo's harp (with murmur) laid, 
 Had to the stones a melody convey'd, 
 They by some pebble summon'd would reply 
 In loud results to every battery ; 
 Thus do we come unto thy marble room, 
 To eccho from the musick of thy tombe. 
 
 May we dare speak thee dead, that wouldest be 
 In thy remove only not such as we ? 
 No wonder, the advance is from us hid ; 
 Earth could not lift thee higher then it did ! 
 And thou, that didst grow up so ever nigh, 
 Art but now gone to immortality ! 
 So near to where thou art, thou here didst dwell, 
 
284 ELEGIES. 
 
 The change to thee is less perceptible. 
 
 Thy but unably-comprehending clay, 
 To what could not be circumscrib'd, gave way, 
 And the more spacious tennant to return, 
 Crack'd (in the two restrain'd estate) its urn. 
 That is but left to a successive trust ; 
 The soul's first buried in his bodies dust. 
 
 Thou more thy self, now thou art less confined, 
 Art not concern'd in what is left behind ; 
 While we sustain the losse that thou art gone, 
 Un-essene'd in the separation ; 
 And he that weeps thy funerall, in one 
 Is pious to the widdow'd nation. 
 
 And under what (now) covert must I sing, 
 Secure as if beneath a cherub's wing ; 
 When thou hast tane thy flight hence, and art nigh 
 In place to some related hierarchic, 
 Where a bright wreath of glories doth but set 
 Upon thy head an equal coronet ; 
 And thou, above our humble converse gon, 
 Canst but be reach'd by contemplation. 
 
 Our lutes (as thine was touch' d) were vocall by, 
 And thence receiv'd the soul by sympathy, 
 That did above the threds inspiring creep, 
 And with soft whispers broke the am'rous sleep ; 
 Which now no more (mov'd with the sweet surprise) 
 Awake into delicious rapsodies ; 
 But with their silent mistress do comply, 
 And fast in undisturbed slumbers lye. 
 
 How from thy first ascent thou didst disperse 
 A blushing warmth throughout the universe, 
 
ELEGIES. 285 
 
 While near the morns Lucasta's fires did glow, 
 And to the earth a purer dawn did throw. 
 We ever saw thee in the roll of fame 
 Advancing thy already deathless name ; 
 And though it could but be above its fate, 
 Thou would'st, however, super-errogate. 
 
 Now as in Venice, when the wanton State 
 Before a Spaniard spread their crowded plate, 
 He made it the sage business of his eye 
 To find the root of the wild treasury; 
 So learn't from that exchequer but the more 
 To rate his masters vegetable ore. 
 Thus when the Greek and Latin muse we read, 
 As but the 1 cold inscriptions of the dead, 
 We to advantage then admired thee, 
 Who did'st live on still with thy poesie ; 
 And in our proud enjoyments never knew 
 The end of the unruly wealth that grew. 
 But now we have the last dear ingots gain'd, 
 And the free vein (however rich) is drein'd ; 
 Though what thou hast bequeathed us, no space 
 Of this worlds span of time shall ere embrace. 
 But as who sometimes knew not to conclude 
 Upon the waters strange vicissitude, 
 Did to the ocean himself commit, 
 That it might comprehend what could not it, 
 So we in our endeavours must out-done 
 Be swallowed up within thy Helicon. 
 
 Thou, who 2 art layd up in thy precious cave, 
 
 1 Original has the but. 2 Original has ow. 
 
286 ELEGIES. 
 
 And from the hollow spaces of thy grave, 
 We still may mourn in tune, but must alone 
 Hereafter hope to quaver out a grone ; 
 No more the chirping sonnets with shrill notes 
 Must henceforth volley from our treble throtes ; 
 But each sad accent must be humour'd well 
 To the deep solemn organ of thy cell. 
 
 Why should some rude hand carve thy sacred stone, 
 And there incise a cheap inscription ? 
 When we can shed the tribute of our tears 
 So long, till the relenting marble wears ; 
 Which shall such order in their cadence keep, 
 That they a native epitaph shall weep ; 
 Untill each letter spelt distinctly lyes, 
 Cut by the mystick droppings of our eyes. 
 
 EL. EEVETT. 1 
 
 AN ELEGIE. 
 
 [E thinks, when kings, prophets, and poets dye, 
 We should not bid men weep, nor ask them 
 
 why, 
 
 'But the great loss should by instinct impair 
 The nations, like a pestilential ayr, 
 And in a moment men should feel the cramp 
 Of grief, like persons poyson'd with a damp. 
 
 1 I have already pointed out, that the author of these truly 
 wretched lines was probably the same person, on whose Moral 
 and Divine Poems Lovelace has some verses in the Lucasta. The 
 poems of E. R. appear to be lost, which, unless they were far 
 superior to the present specimen, cannot be regarded as a great 
 calamity. 
 

 ELEGIES, 287 
 
 All things in nature should their death deplore, 
 
 And the sun look less lovely than before ; 
 
 The fixed stars should change their constant spaces, 
 
 And comets cast abroad their flagrant 1 faces. 
 
 Yet still we see princes and poets fall 
 
 "Without their proper pomp of funerall ; 
 
 Men look about, as if they nere had known 
 
 The poets lawrell or the princes crown ; 
 
 Lovelace hath long been dead, and he 2 can be 
 
 Oblig'd to no man for an elegie. 
 
 Are you all turn'd to silence, or did he 
 
 Retain the only sap of poesie, 
 
 That kept all branches living ? must his fall 
 
 Set an eternal period upon all ? 
 
 So when a spring-tide doth begin to fly 3 
 
 From the green shoar, each neighbouring creek grows 
 
 dry. 
 
 But why do I so pettishly detract 
 An age that is so perfect, so exact ? 
 In all things excellent, it is a fame 
 Or glory to deceased Lovelace name : 
 For he is weak in wit, who doth deprave 
 Anothers worth to make his own seem brave ; 
 And this was not his aim : nor is it mine. 
 I now conceive the scope of their designe, 
 Which is with one consent to bring and burn 
 Contributary incence on his urn, 
 Where each mans love and fancy shall be try'd, 
 As when great Johnson or brave Shakespear dyed. 
 
 1 Burning. * Original has we. * A fine image ! 
 
288 ELEGIES. 
 
 Wits must unite : for ignorance, we see, 
 Hath got a great train of artillerie : 
 Yet neither shall nor can it blast the fame 
 And honour of deceased Lovelace name, 
 Whose own Lucasta can support his credit 
 Amongst all such who knowingly have read it ; 
 But who that praise can by desert discusse 
 Due to those poems that are posthumous ? 
 And if the last conceptions are the best, 
 Those by degrees do much transcend the rest ; 
 So full, so fluent, that they richly sute 
 With Orpheus lire, or with Anacreons lute, 
 And he shall melt his wing, that shall aspire 
 To reach a fancy or one accent higher. 
 Holland and France have known his nobler parts, 
 And found him excellent in arms and arts. 
 To sum up all, few men of fame but know, 
 He was tarn Marti, quam Mer curio. 1 
 
 TO HIS 
 
 NOBLE FRIEND CAPT. DUDLEY LOVELACE 
 
 UPON HIS EDITION OF HIS BROTHERS 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 HY pious hand, planting fraternal bayes, 
 Deserving is of most egregious praise ; 
 Since 'tis the organ doth to us convey 
 From a descended sun so bright a ray. 
 
 1 The motto originally employed by George Gascoigne, who, 
 like Lovelace, wielded both the sword and the pen. 
 
ELEGIES. 289 
 
 Clear spirit ! how much we are bound to thee 
 
 For this so great a liberalitie, 
 
 The truer worth of which by much exceeds 
 
 The western wealth, which such contention breeds ! 
 
 Like the Infusing-Grod, from the well-head 
 
 Of poesie you have besprinkled 
 
 Our brows with holy drops, the very last, 
 
 Which from your Brother's happy pen were cast : 
 
 Yet as the last, the best ; such matchlesse skill 
 
 From his divine alembick did distill. 
 
 Your honour'd Brother in the Elyzian shade 
 
 Will joy to know himself a laureat made 
 
 By your religious care, and that his urn 
 
 Doth him on earth immortal life return. 
 
 Your self you have a good physician shown 
 
 To his much grieved friends and to your own, 
 
 In giving this elixir'd medecine, 
 
 For greatest grief a soveraign anodine. 
 
 Sir, from your Brother y' have convey'd us bliss ; 
 Now, since your genius so concurs with his, 
 Let your own quill our next enjoyments frame ; 
 All must be rich, that's grac'd with Lovelace name. 
 
 SYMON OGNELL M.D. 1 Coningbrens. 
 
 1 This person is not mentioned in Munk's Roll of the Royal 
 College of Physicians, 1861. 
 
290 ELEGIES. 
 
 ON THE 
 
 TRULY HONOURABLE COLL. RICHARD LOVELACE, 
 
 OCCASIONED BY THE PUBLICATION 
 
 OF HIS POSTHUME-POEMS. 
 
 ELEGIE. 
 
 BEAT son of Mars, and of Minerva too ! 
 With what oblations must we come to woo 
 Thy sacred soul to look down from above, 
 And see how much thy memory we love, 
 Whose happy pen so pleased amorous ears, 
 And, lifting bright Lucasta to the sphears, 
 Her in the star-bespangled orb did set 
 Above fair Ariadnes coronet, 
 Leaving a pattern to succeeding wits, 
 By which to sing forth their Pythonick fits. 
 Shall we bring tears and sighs ? no, no ! then we 
 Should but bemone our selves for loosing thee, 
 Or else thy happiness seem to deny, 
 Or to repine at thy felicity. 
 Then, whilst we chant out thine immortal praise, 
 Our offerings shall be onely sprigs of bays ; 
 And if our tears will needs their brinks out-fly, 
 We'l weep them forth into an elegy, 
 To tell the world, how deep fates wounded wit, 
 When Atropos the lovely Lovelace hit ! 
 How th' active fire, which cloath'd thy gen'rous mind, 
 Consumed the water, and the earth calcin'd 
 

 ELEGIES. 291 
 
 Untill a stronger heat by death was given, 
 
 Which sublimated thy poor soul to heaven. 
 
 Thou knew'st right well to guide the warlike steed, 
 
 And yet could'st court the Muses with full speed 
 
 And such success, that the inspiring Nine 
 
 Have fill'd their Thespian fountain so with brine. 
 
 Henceforth we can expect no lyrick lay, 
 
 But biting satyres through the world must stray. 
 
 Bellona joyns with fair Erato too, 
 
 And with the Destinies do keep adoe, 
 
 Whom thus she queries : could not you awhile 
 
 Reprieve his life, until another file 
 
 Of poems such as these had been drawn up ? 
 
 The fates reply'd that thou wert taken up, 
 
 A sacrifice unto the deities ; 
 
 Since things most perfect please their holy eyes, 
 
 And that no other victim could be found 
 
 With so much learning and true virtue crown'd. 
 
 Since it is so, in peace for ever rest ; 
 
 'Tis very just that God should have the best. 
 
 SYM. OGNELL M.D. Coningbrens. 
 
 ON MY BROTHER. 
 
 lOVELACE is dead ! then let the world 
 
 return 
 
 To its first chaos, mufled in its urn ; 
 The stars and elements together lye, 
 Drench'd in perpetual obscurity, 
 And the whole machine in confusion be, 
 
292 ELEGIES. 
 
 As immethodick as an anarchie. 
 
 May the great eye of day weep out his light, 
 
 Pale Cynthia leave the regiment of night, 
 
 The galaxia, all in sables dight, 
 
 Send forth no confiscations to our sight, 
 
 The Sister-Graces and the sacred Nine, 
 
 Statu'd with grief, attend upon his shrine, 
 
 "Whose worth, whose loss, should we but truly rate, 
 
 'Twould puzzle our arithmetic to state 
 
 Th' accompt of vertu's so transcendent high, 
 
 Number and value reach infinity. 
 
 Did I pronounce him dead ! no, no ! he lives, 
 
 And from his aromatique cell he gives 
 
 Spice-breathed fumes, whose oderiferous scent 
 
 (In zephre-gales which never can be spent) 
 
 Doth spread it self abroad, and much out-vies ' 
 
 The eastern bird in her self-sacrifice ; 
 
 Or Father Phcebus, who to th' world derives 
 
 Such various and such multiformed lives, 
 
 Took notice that brave LOVELACE did inspire 
 
 The universe with his Promethean fire, 
 
 And snatcht him hence, before his thread was spun, 
 
 En'ving that here should be another Sun. T. L. 1 
 
 1 Thomas Lovelace, one of the poet's brothers. 
 
ELEGIES. 293 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MY DEAE BEOTHEE. 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 EEAD (reader) gently, gently ore 
 The nappy dust beneath this floor : 
 For in this narrow vault is set 
 An alablaster cabinet, 
 
 Wherein both arts and arms were put, 
 
 Like Homers Iliads in a nut, 
 
 Till Death with slow and easie pace 
 
 Snatcht the bright Jewell from the case ; 
 
 And now, transform'd, he doth arise 
 
 A constellation in the skies, 
 
 Teaching the blinded world the way, 
 
 Through night, to startle into day : 
 
 And shipwrackt shades, with steady hand, 
 
 He steers unto th' Elizian land. 
 
 DUDLEY POSTHUMUS-LOVELACE. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 CHISWICK PRESS : PRINTED BY WH1TTINGHAM AND W1LKIKS, 
 TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. 
 
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 on the date to which renewed. 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 RE,t- u UL> i 
 
 [P 2 3 1962 
 
 T? 
 
 ro 
 
 50ct'62DT 
 
 L26-65-1PIKI 
 
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 n 79 
 
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