When I shall voice aloud how good
He is, how great should be,
Enlargèd winds, that curl the flood,
Know no such liberty.

Stone walls do not a prison make,

Nor iron bars a cage;

Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage:
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.

Richard Lovelace.

XCVIII

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING BEYOND THE SEAS.

If to be absent were to be

Away from thee;

Or that when I am gone

You or I were alone;

Then, my Lucasta, might I crave

Pity from blustering wind, or swallowing wave.

Though seas and land betwixt us both,

Our faith and troth,

Like separated souls,

All time and space controls:

Above the highest sphere we meet

Unseen, unknown, and greet as angels greet.

So then we do anticipate

Our after-fate,

And are alive i' the skies,

If thus our lips and eyes

Can speak like spirits unconfined

In Heaven, their earthy bodies left behind.

Richard Lovelace.

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5

ΙΟ

15

XCIX

A CAVALIER WAR-SONG.

A steed, a steed, of matchless speed,
A sword of metal keen;

All else to noble hearts is dross,

All else on earth is mean.

The rolling of the drum,

The neighing of the war-horse proud,

5

The clangour of the trumpet loud,

Be sounds from heaven that come.

And oh the thundering press of knights,
Whenas their war-cries swell,

May toll from heaven an angel bright,

And rouse a fiend from hell.

Then mount, then mount, brave gallants all,

And don your helms amain;

Death's couriers, Fame and Honour, call

Us to the field again.

No shrewish tears shall fill our eye,

When the sword-hilt's in our hand;

Heart-whole we'll part, and no whit sigh
For the fairest in the land.

Let piping swain and craven wight

Thus weep and puling cry;

Our business is like men to fight,

And, like to heroes, die!

C

Anon.

THE SOLDIER GOING TO THE FIELD.

Preserve thy sighs, unthrifty girl,

To purify the air;

Thy tears to thread, instead of pearl,

On bracelets of thy hair.

IO

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The trumpet makes the echo hoarse,
And wakes the louder drum;
Expense of grief gains no remorse,
When sorrow should be dumb :

For I must go, where lazy peace
Will hide her drowsy head;

And, for the sport of kings, increase
The number of the dead.

But first I'll chide thy cruel theft ;
Can I in war delight,

Who, being of my heart bereft,
Can have no heart to fight?

Thou know'st the sacred laws of old
Ordained a thief should pay,

To quit him of his theft, sevenfold
What he had stol'n away.

Thy payment shall but double be;
Oh then with speed resign

My own seducèd heart to me,
Accompanied with thine.

Sir William Davenant.

CI

LOYALTY CONFINED.

Beat on, proud billows; Boreas, blow;
Swell, curled waves, high as Jove's roof;

Your incivility doth show

That innocence is tempest-proof:

Though surly Nereus frown, my thoughts are calm;

Then strike, Affliction, for thy wounds are balm.

That which the world miscalls a jail,

A private closet is to me,

5

IO

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20

5

Whilst a good conscience is my bail,

And innocence my liberty:

Locks, bars, and solitude together met,
Make me no prisoner, but an anchoret.

I, whilst I wished to be retired,
Into this private room was turned;
As if their wisdom had conspired

The salamander should be burned;
Or like a sophy that would drown a fish,
I am constrained to suffer what I wish.

The cynic loves his poverty;

The pelican her wilderness;

And 'tis the Indian's pride to be Naked on frozen Caucasus : Contentment cannot smart; stoics we see Make torments easy to their apathy.

These manacles upon my arm

I, as my mistress' favours, wear;
And for to keep my ancles warm,

I have some iron shackles there:
These walls are but my garrison; this cell,
Which men call jail, doth prove my citadel.

ΙΟ

*15

20

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30

I'm in the cabinet locked up,

Like some high-prizèd margarite,
Or like the great mogul or pope,

Am cloistered up from public sight:

Retiredness is a piece of majesty,

35

And thus, proud sultan, I'm as great as thee.

Here sin for want of food must starve,

Where tempting objects are not seen;

And these strong walls do only serve

To keep vice out, and keep me in:

40

Malice of late's grown charitable, sure,
I'm not committed, but am kept secure.

So he that struck at Jason's life,

Thinking to' have made his purpose sure,
By a malicious friendly knife

Did only wound him to a cure:

Malice, I see, wants wit; for what is meant

Mischief, ofttimes proves favour by the event.

45

When once my Prince affliction hath,
Prosperity doth treason seem;

50

And for to smooth so rough a path,
I can learn patience from him:

Now not to suffer shows no loyal heart,

When kings want ease, subjects must bear a part.

What though I cannot see my King,

Neither in person nor in coin;

Yet contemplation is a thing

That renders what I have not, mine:

My King from me what adamant can part,

Whom I do wear engraven on my heart?

Have you not seen the nightingale,

A pilgrim, coopt into a cage,

How doth she chaunt her wonted tale

In that her narrow hermitage?

Even there her charming melody doth prove

That all her bars are trees, her cage a grove.

I am that bird, whom they combine
Thus to deprive of liberty;

But though they do my corps confine,

Yet, maugre hate, my soul is free:

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And though immured, yet can I chirp and sing
Disgrace to rebels, glory to my King.