Courante Monsieur
That 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,
Retort on thee:
For know, it is decreed, proud fair,
I ne’r must dye
By any scorching, but a melting, eye.
Other works by Richard Lovelace...
To my Worthy Friend Mr. Peter Lilly: on That Excellent Picture of His Majesty and the Duke of York, Drawne by Him at Hampton– Court
See! what a clouded majesty, and e… Whose glory through their mist dot… See! what an humble bravery doth s… And griefe triumphant breaking thr… How it commands the face! so sweet…
