Textarchiv - Richard Lovelace
https://www.textarchiv.com/richard-lovelace
English poet. Born on December 9, 1617. Died 1657 in London.
de To Amarantha. That She Would Dishevell Her Haire
https://www.textarchiv.com/richard-lovelace/to-amarantha-that-she-would-dishevell-her-haire
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:text content:encoded"><p>I.<br />
Amarantha sweet and faire,<br />
Ah brade no more that shining haire!<br />
As my curious hand or eye,<br />
Hovering round thee, let it flye.</p>
<p>II.<br />
Let it flye as unconfin'd<br />
As it's calme ravisher, the winde,<br />
Who hath left his darling, th' East,<br />
To wanton o're that spicie neast.</p>
<p>III.<br />
Ev'ry tresse must be confest:<br />
But neatly tangled at the best;<br />
Like a clue of golden thread,<br />
Most excellently ravelled.</p>
<p>IV.<br />
Doe not then winde up that light<br />
In ribands, and o'er-cloud in night,<br />
Like the sun in's early ray;<br />
But shake your head, and scatter day.</p>
<p>V.<br />
See, 'tis broke! within this grove,<br />
The bower and the walkes of love,<br />
Weary lye we downe and rest,<br />
And fanne each other's panting breast.</p>
<p>VI.<br />
Heere wee'll strippe and coole our fire,<br />
In creame below, in milk-baths higher:<br />
And when all wells are drawne dry,<br />
I'll drink a teare out of thine eye.</p>
<p>VII.<br />
Which our very joys shall leave,<br />
That sorrowes thus we can deceive;<br />
Or our very sorrowes weepe,<br />
That joyes so ripe so little keepe.</p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-author field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" rel="schema:author"><a href="/richard-lovelace" typeof="skos:Concept" property="schema:name" datatype="">Richard Lovelace</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-releasedate field-type-number-integer field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:datePublished">1649</div></div></div><span rel="schema:url" resource="/richard-lovelace/to-amarantha-that-she-would-dishevell-her-haire" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span><span property="schema:name" content=" To Amarantha. That She Would Dishevell Her Haire" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span>Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:46:21 +0000mrbot6053 at https://www.textarchiv.comTo Lucasta, Going to the Wars
https://www.textarchiv.com/richard-lovelace/to-lucasta-going-to-the-wars
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:text content:encoded"><p>I.<br />
If to be absent were to be<br />
Away from thee;<br />
Or that when I am gone,<br />
You or I were alone;<br />
Then my LUCASTA might I crave<br />
Pity from blustring winde or swallowing wave.</p>
<p>II.<br />
But I'le not sigh one blast or gale<br />
To swell my saile,<br />
Or pay a teare to swage<br />
The foaming blew-gods rage;<br />
For whether he will let me passe<br />
Or no, I'm still as happy as I was.</p>
<p>III.<br />
Though seas and land betwixt us both,<br />
Our faith and troth,<br />
Like separated soules,<br />
All time and space controules:<br />
Above the highest sphere wee meet,<br />
Unseene, unknowne, and greet as angels greet</p>
<p>IV.<br />
So then we doe anticipate<br />
Our after-fate,<br />
And are alive i'th' skies,<br />
If thus our lips and eyes<br />
Can speake like spirits unconfin'd<br />
In Heav'n, their earthy bodies left behind.</p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-author field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" rel="schema:author"><a href="/richard-lovelace" typeof="skos:Concept" property="schema:name" datatype="">Richard Lovelace</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-releasedate field-type-number-integer field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:datePublished">1649</div></div></div><span rel="schema:url" resource="/richard-lovelace/to-lucasta-going-to-the-wars" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span><span property="schema:name" content="To Lucasta, Going to the Wars" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span>Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:46:21 +0000mrbot6054 at https://www.textarchiv.comA Loose Saraband
https://www.textarchiv.com/richard-lovelace/a-loose-saraband
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:text content:encoded"><p>I.<br />
Ah me! the little tyrant theefe!<br />
As once my heart was playing,<br />
He snatcht it up and flew away,<br />
Laughing at all my praying.</p>
<p>II.<br />
Proud of his purchase, he surveys<br />
And curiously sounds it,<br />
And though he sees it full of wounds,<br />
Cruel one, still he wounds it.</p>
<p>III.<br />
And now this heart is all his sport,<br />
Which as a ball he boundeth<br />
From hand to breast, from breast to lip,<br />
And all its rest confoundeth.</p>
<p>IV.<br />
Then as a top he sets it up,<br />
And pitifully whips it;<br />
Sometimes he cloathes it gay and fine,<br />
Then straight againe he strips it.</p>
<p>V.<br />
He cover'd it with false reliefe,<br />
Which gloriously show'd it;<br />
And for a morning-cushionet<br />
On's mother he bestow'd it.</p>
<p>VI.<br />
Each day, with her small brazen stings,<br />
A thousand times she rac'd it;<br />
But then at night, bright with her gemmes,<br />
Once neere her breast she plac'd it.</p>
<p>VII.<br />
There warme it gan to throb and bleed;<br />
She knew that smart, and grieved;<br />
At length this poore condemned heart<br />
With these rich drugges repreeved.</p>
<p>VIII.<br />
She washt the wound with a fresh teare,<br />
Which my LUCASTA dropped,<br />
And in the sleave-silke of her haire<br />
'Twas hard bound up and wrapped.</p>
<p>IX.<br />
She proab'd it with her constancie,<br />
And found no rancor nigh it;<br />
Only the anger of her eye<br />
Had wrought some proud flesh by it.</p>
<p>X.<br />
Then prest she narde in ev'ry veine,<br />
Which from her kisses trilled;<br />
And with the balme heald all its paine,<br />
That from her hand distilled.</p>
<p>XI.<br />
But yet this heart avoyds me still,<br />
Will not by me be owned;<br />
But's fled to its physitian's breast;<br />
There proudly sits inthroned.</p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-author field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" rel="schema:author"><a href="/richard-lovelace" typeof="skos:Concept" property="schema:name" datatype="">Richard Lovelace</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-releasedate field-type-number-integer field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:datePublished">1649</div></div></div><span rel="schema:url" resource="/richard-lovelace/a-loose-saraband" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span><span property="schema:name" content="A Loose Saraband" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span>Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:46:21 +0000mrbot6058 at https://www.textarchiv.comOrpheus To Woods
https://www.textarchiv.com/richard-lovelace/orpheus-to-woods
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:text content:encoded"><p>Heark! Oh heark! you guilty trees,<br />
In whose gloomy galleries<br />
Was the cruell'st murder done,<br />
That e're yet eclipst the sunne.<br />
Be then henceforth in your twigges<br />
Blasted, e're you sprout to sprigges;<br />
Feele no season of the yeere,<br />
But what shaves off all your haire,<br />
Nor carve any from your wombes<br />
Ought but coffins and their tombes.</p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-author field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" rel="schema:author"><a href="/richard-lovelace" typeof="skos:Concept" property="schema:name" datatype="">Richard Lovelace</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-releasedate field-type-number-integer field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:datePublished">1649</div></div></div><span rel="schema:url" resource="/richard-lovelace/orpheus-to-woods" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span><span property="schema:name" content="Orpheus To Woods" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span>Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:46:21 +0000mrbot6059 at https://www.textarchiv.comLove Conquer'd
https://www.textarchiv.com/richard-lovelace/love-conquerd
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:text content:encoded"><p>I.<br />
The childish god of love did sweare<br />
Thus: By my awfull bow and quiver,<br />
Yon' weeping, kissing, smiling pair,<br />
I'le scatter all their vowes i' th' ayr,<br />
And their knit imbraces shiver.</p>
<p>II.<br />
Up then to th' head with his best art<br />
Full of spite and envy blowne,<br />
At her constant marble heart,<br />
He drawes his swiftest surest dart,<br />
Which bounded back, and hit his owne.</p>
<p>III.<br />
Now the prince of fires burnes;<br />
Flames in the luster of her eyes;<br />
Triumphant she, refuses, scornes;<br />
He submits, adores and mournes,<br />
And is his votresse sacrifice.</p>
<p>IV.<br />
Foolish boy! resolve me now<br />
What 'tis to sigh and not be heard?<br />
He weeping kneel'd, and made a vow:<br />
The world shall love as yon' fast two;<br />
So on his sing'd wings up he steer'd.</p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-author field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" rel="schema:author"><a href="/richard-lovelace" typeof="skos:Concept" property="schema:name" datatype="">Richard Lovelace</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-releasedate field-type-number-integer field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:datePublished">1649</div></div></div><span rel="schema:url" resource="/richard-lovelace/love-conquerd" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span><span property="schema:name" content="Love Conquer'd" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span>Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:46:21 +0000mrbot6057 at https://www.textarchiv.comTo Lucasta. The Rose
https://www.textarchiv.com/richard-lovelace/to-lucasta-the-rose
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:text content:encoded"><p>I.<br />
Sweet serene skye-like flower,<br />
Haste to adorn her bower;<br />
From thy long clowdy bed<br />
Shoot forth thy damaske head.</p>
<p>II.<br />
New-startled blush of FLORA!<br />
The griefe of pale AURORA,<br />
Who will contest no more,<br />
Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.</p>
<p>III.<br />
Vermilion ball, that's given<br />
From lip to lip in Heaven;<br />
Loves couches cover-led,<br />
Haste, haste, to make her bed.</p>
<p>IV.<br />
Dear offspring of pleas'd VENUS,<br />
And jollie plumpe SILENUS;<br />
Haste, haste, to decke the haire,<br />
Of th' only sweetly faire.</p>
<p>V.<br />
See! rosie is her bower,<br />
Her floore is all this flower;<br />
Her bed a rosie nest<br />
By a bed of roses prest.</p>
<p>VI.<br />
But early as she dresses,<br />
Why fly you her bright tresses?<br />
Ah! I have found, I feare;<br />
Because her cheekes are neere.</p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-author field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" rel="schema:author"><a href="/richard-lovelace" typeof="skos:Concept" property="schema:name" datatype="">Richard Lovelace</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-releasedate field-type-number-integer field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:datePublished">1649</div></div></div><span rel="schema:url" resource="/richard-lovelace/to-lucasta-the-rose" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span><span property="schema:name" content="To Lucasta. The Rose" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span>Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:46:21 +0000mrbot6056 at https://www.textarchiv.comSonnet
https://www.textarchiv.com/richard-lovelace/sonnet
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:text content:encoded"><p>I.<br />
Depose your finger of that ring,<br />
And crowne mine with't awhile;<br />
Now I restor't. Pray, dos it bring<br />
Back with it more of soile?<br />
Or shines it not as innocent,<br />
As honest, as before 'twas lent?</p>
<p>II.<br />
So then inrich me with that treasure,<br />
'Twill but increase your store,<br />
And please me (faire one) with that pleasure<br />
Must please you still the more.<br />
Not to save others is a curse<br />
The blackest, when y'are ne're the worse.</p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-author field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" rel="schema:author"><a href="/richard-lovelace" typeof="skos:Concept" property="schema:name" datatype="">Richard Lovelace</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-releasedate field-type-number-integer field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:datePublished">1649</div></div></div><span rel="schema:url" resource="/richard-lovelace/sonnet" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span><span property="schema:name" content="Sonnet" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span>Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:46:21 +0000mrbot6055 at https://www.textarchiv.comA Paradox
https://www.textarchiv.com/richard-lovelace/a-paradox
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:text content:encoded"><p>I.<br />
Tis true the beauteous Starre<br />
To which I first did bow<br />
Burnt quicker, brighter far,<br />
Than that which leads me now;<br />
Which shines with more delight,<br />
For gazing on that light<br />
So long, neere lost my sight.</p>
<p>II.<br />
Through foul we follow faire,<br />
For had the world one face,<br />
And earth been bright as ayre,<br />
We had knowne neither place.<br />
Indians smell not their neast;<br />
A Swisse or Finne tastes best<br />
The spices of the East.</p>
<p>III.<br />
So from the glorious Sunne<br />
Who to his height hath got,<br />
With what delight we runne<br />
To some black cave or grot!<br />
And, heav'nly Sydney you<br />
Twice read, had rather view<br />
Some odde romance so new.</p>
<p>IV.<br />
The god, that constant keepes<br />
Unto his deities,<br />
Is poore in joyes, and sleepes<br />
Imprison'd in the skies.<br />
This knew the wisest, who<br />
From Juno stole, below<br />
To love a bear or cow.</p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-author field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" rel="schema:author"><a href="/richard-lovelace" typeof="skos:Concept" property="schema:name" datatype="">Richard Lovelace</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-releasedate field-type-number-integer field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:datePublished">1649</div></div></div><span rel="schema:url" resource="/richard-lovelace/a-paradox" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span><span property="schema:name" content="A Paradox" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span>Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:46:17 +0000mrbot6052 at https://www.textarchiv.comDialogue. Lucasta, Alexis
https://www.textarchiv.com/richard-lovelace/dialogue-lucasta-alexis
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:text content:encoded"><p>I.<br />
Lucasta.<br />
Tell me, ALEXIS, what this parting is,<br />
That so like dying is, but is not it?</p>
<p>Alexis.<br />
It is a swounding for a while from blisse,<br />
'Till kind HOW DOE YOU call's us from the fit.</p>
<p>Chorus.<br />
If then the spirits only stray, let mine<br />
Fly to thy bosome, and my soule to thine:<br />
Thus in our native seate we gladly give<br />
Our right for one, where we can better live.</p>
<p>II.<br />
Lu. But ah, this ling'ring, murdring farewel!<br />
Death quickly wounds, and wounding cures the ill.<br />
Alex. It is the glory of a valiant lover,<br />
Still to be dying, still for to recover.</p>
<p>Cho. Soldiers suspected of their courage goe,<br />
That ensignes and their breasts untorne show:<br />
Love nee're his standard, when his hoste he sets,<br />
Creates alone fresh-bleeding bannerets.</p>
<p>III.<br />
Alex. But part we, when thy figure I retaine<br />
Still in my heart, still strongly in mine eye?<br />
Lu. Shadowes no longer than the sun remaine,<br />
But his beams, that made 'em, fly, they fly.<br />
Cho. Vaine dreames of love! that only so much blisse<br />
Allow us, as to know our wretchednesse;<br />
And deale a larger measure in our paine<br />
By showing joy, then hiding it againe.</p>
<p>IV.<br />
Alex. No, whilst light raigns, LUCASTA still rules here,<br />
And all the night shines wholy in this sphere.<br />
Lu. I know no morne but my ALEXIS ray,<br />
To my dark thoughts the breaking of the day.</p>
<p>Chorus.<br />
Alex. So in each other if the pitying sun<br />
Thus keep us fixt, nere may his course be run!<br />
Lu. And oh! if night us undivided make;<br />
Let us sleepe still, and sleeping never wake!</p>
<p>The close.<br />
Cruel ADIEUS may well adjourne awhile<br />
The sessions of a looke, a kisse, or smile,<br />
And leave behinde an angry grieving blush;<br />
But time nor fate can part us joyned thus.</p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-author field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" rel="schema:author"><a href="/richard-lovelace" typeof="skos:Concept" property="schema:name" datatype="">Richard Lovelace</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-releasedate field-type-number-integer field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:datePublished">1649</div></div></div><span rel="schema:url" resource="/richard-lovelace/dialogue-lucasta-alexis" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span><span property="schema:name" content="Dialogue. Lucasta, Alexis" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span>Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:46:17 +0000mrbot6051 at https://www.textarchiv.comTo Lucasta. Going To The Warres
https://www.textarchiv.com/richard-lovelace/to-lucasta-going-to-the-warres
<div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:text content:encoded"><p>I.<br />
Tell me not, (sweet,) I am unkinde,<br />
That from the nunnerie<br />
Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde<br />
To warre and armes I flie.</p>
<p>II.<br />
True: a new Mistresse now I chase,<br />
The first foe in the field;<br />
And with a stronger faith imbrace<br />
A sword, a horse, a shield.</p>
<p>III.<br />
Yet this inconstancy is such,<br />
As you too shall adore;<br />
I could not love thee, dear, so much,<br />
Lov'd I not Honour more.</p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-author field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" rel="schema:author"><a href="/richard-lovelace" typeof="skos:Concept" property="schema:name" datatype="">Richard Lovelace</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-releasedate field-type-number-integer field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="schema:datePublished">1649</div></div></div><span rel="schema:url" resource="/richard-lovelace/to-lucasta-going-to-the-warres" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span><span property="schema:name" content="To Lucasta. Going To The Warres" class="rdf-meta element-hidden"></span>Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:46:17 +0000mrbot6049 at https://www.textarchiv.com