Richard Lovelace: Все стихи поэта

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The Snail

Wise emblem of our politic world,

Sage snail, within thine own self curl'd;

Instruct me softly to make haste,

Whilst these my feet go slowly fast.

Compendious snail! thou seem'st to me,

Large Euclid's strict epitome;

And in each diagram dost fling

Thee from the point unto the ring;

Richard Lovelace

The Rose

Sweet serene skye-like Flower,

Haste to adorn her Bower :

From thy long clowdy bed,

Shoot forth thy damaske head.

II.

New-startled blush of Flora !

The griefe of pale Aurora,

Richard Lovelace

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 drowns.

II.

The salamander, that in heat

And flames doth cool his monstrous sweat,

Richard Lovelace

A Forsaken Lady To Her False Servant That Is Disdained By His New Mistriss

Were 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,

Richard Lovelace

Paris's Second Judgement, Upon The Three Daughters Of My De

Behold! three sister-wonders, in whom met,

Distinct and chast, the splendrous counterfeit

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 beauties and desires

O' th' sea-born princess, empresse too of fires;

Richard Lovelace

Song To Amarantha, That She Would Dishevel Her Hair

Amarantha sweet and fair

Ah braid no more that shining hair!

As my curious hand or eye

Hovering round thee let it fly.

Let it fly as unconfin'd

As its calm ravisher, the wind,

Who hath left his darling th'East,

To wanton o'er that spicy nest.

Richard Lovelace

Love Made In The First Age To Chloris

In 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.

II.

Richard Lovelace

A Black Patch On Lucasta's Face

Dull 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.

Richard Lovelace

To Amarantha, That She Would Dishevel Her Hair

Amarantha, sweet and fair,

Ah, braid no more that shining hair!

As my curious hand or eye

Hovering round thee, let it fly!

Let it fly as unconfined

As its calm ravisher the wind,

Who hath left his darling th' East,

To wanton o'er that spicy nest.

Richard Lovelace

The Scrutiny

Why should you swear I am forsworn,

Since thine I vowed to be?

Lady, it is already morn,

And 'twas last night I swore to thee

That fond impossibility.

Have I not loved thee much and long,

A tedious twelve hours' space?

I must all other beauties wrong,

Richard Lovelace

The Grasshopper

O thou that swing'st upon the waving ear

Of some well-filled oaten beard,

Drunk ev'ry night with a delicious tear

Dropped thee from heav'n, where now th' art reared,

The joys of earth and air are thine entire,

That with thy feet and wings dost hop and fly;

And, when the poppy works, thou dost retire

To thy carved acorn-bed to lie.

Richard Lovelace

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

Employ'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;

Richard Lovelace