When I shall voice aloud how good Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take 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. 25 30 5 ΙΟ 15 XCIX A CAVALIER WAR-SONG. A steed, a steed, of matchless speed, 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, 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 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 15 20 The trumpet makes the echo hoarse, For I must go, where lazy peace And, for the sport of kings, increase But first I'll chide thy cruel theft ; Who, being of my heart bereft, Thou know'st the sacred laws of old To quit him of his theft, sevenfold Thy payment shall but double be; My own seducèd heart to me, Sir William Davenant. CI LOYALTY CONFINED. Beat on, proud billows; Boreas, blow; 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 15 20 5 Whilst a good conscience is my bail, And innocence my liberty: Locks, bars, and solitude together met, I, whilst I wished to be retired, The salamander should be burned; 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; I have some iron shackles there: ΙΟ *15 20 25 30 I'm in the cabinet locked up, Like some high-prizèd margarite, 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, So he that struck at Jason's life, Thinking to' have made his purpose sure, 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, 50 And for to smooth so rough a path, 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 But though they do my corps confine, Yet, maugre hate, my soul is free: 55 60 65 70 And though immured, yet can I chirp and sing |