TO HIS HONOURED AND INGENIOUS FRIEND, COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE, ON HIS "LUCASTA."
Chast as Creation meant us, and more bright
Then the first day in 's uneclipsed light,
Is thy LUCASTA; and thou offerest heere
Lines to her name as undefil'd and cleere;
Such as the first indeed more happy dayes
(When vertue, wit, and learning wore the bayes
Now vice assumes) would to her memory give:
A Vestall flame that should for ever live,
Plac't in a christal temple, rear'd to be
The Embleme of her thoughts integrity;
And on the porch thy name insculpt, my friend,
Whose love, like to the flame, can know no end.
The marble step that to the alter brings
The hallowed priests with their clean offerings,
Shall hold their names that humbly crave to be
Votaries to th' shrine, and grateful friends to thee.
So shal we live (although our offrings prove
Meane to the world) for ever by thy love.
Tho. Rawlins.<11.1>
<11.1> A well known dramatist and poet. These lines are not in Singer's reprint.
TO MY DEAR BROTHER, COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE.
Ile doe my nothing too, and try
To dabble to thy memory.
Not that I offer to thy name
Encomiums of thy lasting fame.
Those by the landed have been writ:
Mine's but a yonger-brother wit;
A wit that's hudled up in scarres,
Borne like my rough selfe in the warres;
And as a Squire in the fight
Serves only to attend the Knight,
So 'tis my glory in this field,
Where others act, to beare thy shield.
Dudley Lovelace, Capt.<12.1>
<12.1> The youngest brother of the poet. Besides the present lines, and some to be found in the posthumous volume, of which he was the editor, this gentleman contributed the following commendatory poem to AYRES AND DIALOGUES [by Thomas Stanley Esq.] set by John Gamble, 1656. The verses themselves have little merit; and the only object which I had in introducing them, was to add to the completeness of the present edition:—
TO MY MUCH HONORED COZEN, MR. STANLEY, UPON HIS POEMS SET BY MR. JOHN GAMBLE.
I.
Enough, enough of orbs and spheres,
Reach me a trumpet or a drum,
To sound sharp synnets in your ears,
And beat a deep encomium.
II.
I know not th' Eight Intelligence:
Those that do understand it, pray
Let them step hither, and from thence
Speak what they all do sing or say:
III.
Nor what your diapasons are,
Your sympathies and symphonies;
To me they seem as distant farre
As whence they take their infant rise.