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Gratiana dauncing and singing.

Ee! with what constant Motion

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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.

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.

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.

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.
Richard Lovelace.

ΤΟ

20

Hy

The Scrutinie.

Why should you sweare I am forsworn,

Since thine vow'd to be?

Lady it is already Morn,

And 'twas last night I swore to thee That fond impossibility.

Have I not lov'd thee much and long,
A tedious twelve houres space?

I must all other Beauties wrong,
And rob thee of a new imbrace;
Could I still dote upon thy Face.

Not, but all joy in thy browne haire,
By others may be found;

But I must search the black and faire

Like skilfull Minerallist's that sound For Treasure in un-plow'd-up ground.

Then, if when I have lov'd my round,
Thou prov'st the pleasant she;
With spoyles of meaner Beauties crown'd,

I laden will returne to thee,

Ev'n sated with Varietie.

Richard Lovelace.

ΤΟ

20

To Althea,

From Prison.

Hen Love with unconfined wings

WHevers within my Gates;

And my divine Althea brings
To whisper at the Grates:
When I lye tangled in her haire,
And fetterd to her eye;

The Gods, that wanton in the Aire,
Know no such Liberty.

When flowing Cups run swiftly round
With no allaying Thames,

Our carelesse heads with Roses bound,
Our hearts with Loyall Flames;
When thirsty griefe in Wine we steepe,
When Healths and draughts go free,
Fishes that tipple in the Deepe,

Know no such Libertie.

When (like committed Linnets) I
With shriller throat shall sing
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 curle the Flood,

Know no such Liberty.

ΙΟ

20

Stone Walls doe not a Prison make,
Nor I'ron 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,

Injoy such Liberty.

Richard Lovelace.

To Amoret gone from him.

Ancy, and I, last Evening walkt,

And, Amoret, of thee we talkt;
The West just then had stolne the Sun,
And his last blushes were begun :

We sate, and markt how every thing

Did mourne his absence; How the Spring
That smil'd, and curl'd about his beames,

Whilst he was here, now check'd her streames:
The wanton Eddies of her face

Were taught lesse noise, and smoother grace;
And in a slow, sad channell went,
Whisp'ring the banks their discontent :
The carelesse ranks of flowers that spread
Their perfum❜d bosomes to his head,
And with an open, free Embrace,
Did entertaine his beamy face;
Like absent friends point to the West,

And on that weake reflection feast.

30

ΤΟ

If Creatures then that have no sence,
But the loose tye of influence,

(Though fate, and time each day remove
Those things that element their love)
At such vast distance can agree,
Why, Amoret, why should not wee.

The Call.

Romira, stay,

Henry Vaughan.

And run not thus like a young Roe away,
No enemie

Pursues thee (foolish girle) tis onely I,
I'le keep off harms,

If thou'l be pleas'd to garrison mine arms;
What dost thou fear

'I'le turn a Traitour? may these Roses here
To palenesse shred,

And Lilies stand disguised in new Red,

If that I lay

A snare, wherein thou wouldst not gladly stay;
See see the Sunne

Does slowly to his azure Lodging run,

Come sit but here

And presently hee'l quit our Hemisphere,
So still among

Lovers, time is too short or else too long;
Here will we spin

Legends for them that have Love Martyrs been,

Here on this plain

Wee'l talk Narcissus to a flour again;

20

ΙΟ

20

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