Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like seasoned timber never gives,
But, though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.
TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS.
BY RICHARD LOVELACE.
Richard Lovelace was an English cavalier, born in 1618, a period which produced many poets. He was educated both at the Charterhouse and at Oxford. He was twice imprisoned on account of the active part he took in the affairs of the times. After the execution of Charles, he was set free from prison only to find that his estates had been confiscated. He died in great poverty in London, in 1658. After his death his poems were collected under the name of “Lucasta, Posthume Poems.” The name of the lady to whom the poems were written was Lucy Sacheverell, whom he called his “Lux Castra.”
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.
True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
Yet this inconstancy is such
As you, too, shall adore;
I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honor more.
CHERRY RIPE.
BY THOMAS CAMPION.
There is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies blow,
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow;
There cherries grow that none may buy,
Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose.
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which, when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rose-buds fill’d with snow;
Yet them no peer nor prince may buy,
Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch them still;
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat’ning with piercing frowns to kill
All that approach with eye or hand
These sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.