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Richard Lovelace

Richard Lovelace

To Dr. F. B[eale]; on His Book of Chesse.

Sir, how unravell’d is the golden fleece:
Men, that could only fool at FOX AND GEESE,
Are new-made polititians by thy book,
And both can judge and conquer with a look.
The hidden fate 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.

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Otras obras de Richard Lovelace...
To His Deare Brother Colonel F. L. Immoderately Mourning my Brothers Untimely Death at Carmarthen

If teares could wash the ill away, A pearle for each wet bead I’d pa… But as dew’d corne the fuller grow… So water’d eyes but swell our woes… II.
To a Lady That Desired Me I Would Beare my Part With Her in a Song Madam A. L.

This is the prittiest motion: Madam, th’ alarums of a drumme That cals your lord, set to your c… To mine are sacred symphonies. What, though ’tis said I have a v…
Love Conquer'd

THE childish God of Love did swe… Thus: by my awfull Bow and Quive… Yon’ weeping, kissing, smiling pai… I’le scatter all their vowes i’ th… And their knit imbraces shiver.
To my Worthy Friend Mr. Peter Lilly : on that excellent Picture of his Majesty, and the Duke of Yorke, drawne by him at Hampton-Court

SEE! what a clouded Majesty! a… Whose glory through their mist dot… See! what an humble bravery doth… And griefe triumphant breaking thr… How it commands the face! so swee…
To the Genius of Mr. John Hall. on His Exact Translation Of

Tis not from cheap thanks thinly t… Th’ immortal grove of thy fair-ord… Thou planted’st round my humble fa… Stick on thy hearse this sprig of… Nor that your soul so fast was lin…
To Lucasta. Going Beyond the Seas.

If to be absent were to be Away from thee; Or that when I am gone, You or I were alone; Then my LUCASTA might I crave
An Elegie. Princesse Katherine

You, that can aptly mixe your joye… And weave white Iös with black El… Can Caroll out a Dirge, and in on… Sing to the Tune, either of life,… You, that can weepe the gladnesse…
The Rose

Sweet serene skye-like Flower, Haste to adorn her Bower: From thy long clowdy bed, Shoot forth thy damaske head. II.
Ausonius

AUSONIUS. Vane, quid affectas faciem mihi po… Ignotamque oculis solicitare manu? Aeris et venti sum filia, mater in… Indicii, vocemque sine mente gero.
A Prologue to the Scholars. a Comaedy Presented at the Whit

A gentleman, to give us somewhat n… Hath brought up OXFORD with him… Pray be not frighted—Tho the scae… The Universities, the wit’s the t… The lines each honest Englishman…
A Fly About a Glasse of Burnt Claret.

Forbear this liquid fire, Fly, It is more fatal then the dry, That singly, but embracing, wounds… And this at once both burns and dr… II.
To Chloe

Chloe behold! againe I bowe, Againe possest, againe I woe ; From my heat hath taken fire, Damas, noble youth, and fries: Gazing with one of mine eyes
Lucasta Paying Her Obsequies to the Chast Memory of my Dearest Cosin Mrs. Bowes Barne[s]

See! what an undisturbed teare She weepes for her last sleepe; But, viewing her, straight wak’d a… She weepes that she did weepe. II.
An Elegie. on the Death of Mrs. Cassandra Cotton, Only Sist

Hither with hallowed steps as is t… That must enshrine this saint with… And sad aspects as the dark vails… Virgins opprest, draw gently, gent… Enter the dismall chancell of this…
Orpheus to Woods

Heark! Oh heark! you guilty Tre… In whose gloomy Galleries Was the cruell’st murder done, That e’re yet eclipst the Sunne ; Be then henceforth in your twigges



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