L U C A S T A:

EPODES, ODES, SONNETS, SONGS, &C.

TO WHICH IS ADDED

ARAMANTHA,

A

PASTORALL.

BY

RICHARD LOVELACE,

Efq.

LONDON,

Printed by THO. HARPER, and are to be fold

by THO. EVVSTER, at the GUN, in
Ivie Lane. 1649.

B

THE DEDICATION.

TO THE RIGHT HON. MY LADY ANNE

R

LOVELACE.1

O the richest Treasury

That e'er fill'd ambitious eye;
To the faire bright Magazin
Hath impoverisht Love's Queen;

To th' Exchequer of all honour
(All take pensions but from her);
To the taper of the thore

Which the god himselfe but bore;
To the Sea of Chaste Delight;
Let me cast the Drop I write.
And as at Loretto's shrine
Cæsar shovels in his mine,

This lady was the wife of the unfortunate John, second Lord Lovelace, who suffered so severely for his attachment to the King's cause, and daughter to the equally unfortunate Thomas, Earl of Cleveland, who was equally devoted to his sovereign, and whose estates were ordered by the Parliament to be sold, July 26, 1650. See Parliaments and Councils of England, 1839, p. 507.

Th' Empres spreads her carkanets,
The lords submit their coronets,

Knights their chased armes hang by,
Maids diamond-ruby fancies tye;
Whilst from the pilgrim she wears
One poore false pearl, but ten true tears:
So among the Orient prize,
(Saphyr-onyx eulogies)

Offer'd up unto your fame,

Take my GARNET-DUBLET name,

And vouchsafe 'midst those rich joyes

(With devotion) these TOYES.

OW y' have oblieg'd the age, thy wel known
worth

Is to our joy auspiciously brought forth.
Good morrow to thy son, thy first borne flame
Which, as thou gav'st it birth, stamps it a name,
That Fate and a discerning age shall set
The chiefest jewell in her coronet.

Why then needs all this paines, those season'd pens,
That standing lifeguard to a booke (kinde friends),
That with officious care thus guard thy gate,

As if thy Child were illigitimate?

Forgive their freedome, since unto their praise
They write to give, not to dispute thy bayes.

As when some glorious queen, whose pregnant wombe Brings forth a kingdome with her first-borne Sonne, Marke but the subjects joyfull hearts and eyes:

Some offer gold, and others sacrifice;

This slayes a lambe, that, not so rich as hee,

Brings but a dove, this but a bended knee;