Lucasta: The Poems of Richard Lovelace, Now First Edited, and the Text Carefully Revised. With Some Account of the Author, and a Few Notes

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Page 26 - 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...
Page 117 - WHEN Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
Page 27 - 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 honour more.
Page 168 - Go to the Ant, thou Sluggard, consider her ways, and be wise : which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth her 15 meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.
Page 119 - Stone Walls doe not a Prison make, Nor I'ron bars a Cage; Mindes innocent and quiet take That for an Hermitage; If I have freedome in my Love, And in my soule am free; Angels alone that sore above, Injoy such liberty.
Page 38 - Such was Zuleika, such around her shone The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone — The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the Music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmonized the whole, And oh! that eye was in itself a Soul...
Page 25 - 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. But...
Page 83 - And in her, all the Deities. Each step trod out a Lover's thought And the Ambitious hopes he brought...
Page 238 - But He was of late so gone with divinity, That he had almost forgot his poetry, Though to say the truth (and Apollo did know it) He might have been both his priest and his poet.
Page 272 - Nunc te cognovi : quare etsi impensius uror, Multo mi tamen es vilior et levior. Qui potis est ? inquis.

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