In ev'ry hand [let] a cup be found, That from all hearts a health may sound II. He whose glories shine so brave and high, That captive they in triumph leade each eare and eye, Claiming uncombated the victorie, And from the earth to heav'n rebound, Fixt there eternall as this round: To Goring! to Goring! see him crown'd. III. To his lovely bride, in love with scars, Whose eyes wound deepe in peace, as doth his sword in wars; They shortly must depose the Queen of Stars: Her cheekes the morning blushes give, To Lettice! to Lettice! let her live. lica, 1662, pp. 47, 54. Lord Goring died Jan. 6, 1663 (Smyth's Obituary, p. 57; Camden Soc.). 2 A la Chabot was a French dance tune, christened after the admiral of that name, in the same manner as a la Bourbon, mentioned elsewhere in LUCASTA, derived its title from another celebrated person. Those who have any acquaintance with the history of early English music need not to be informed that it was formerly the practice of our own composers to seek the patronage of the gentlemen and ladies about the Court for their works, and to identify their names with them. Thus we have "My Lady Carey's Dumpe," &c. &c. . 3 Expense. IV. Give me scorching heat, thy heat, dry Sun, That to this payre I may drinke off an ocean: Yet leave my grateful thirst unquensht, undone; Or a full bowle of heav'nly wine, In which dissolved stars should shine, To the couple! to the couple! th' are divine. SIR THOMAS WORTLEY'S SONNET ANSWERED. [THE SONNET. I. O more Thou little winged archer, now no more Thou maist pretend within my breast to bide, Since cruell Death of dearest Lyndamore Hath me depriv'd, I bid adieu to love, and all the world beside. II. Go, go; Lay by thy quiver and unbend thy bow Poore sillie foe, Thou spend'st thy shafts but at my breast in vain, Since Death My heart hath with a fatall icie deart Thou canst not ever hope to warme her wound, THE ANSWER. I. GAINE, Thou witty cruell wanton, now againe, Through ev'ry veine, Hurle all your lightning, and strike ev'ry dart, Againe, Before I feele this pleasing, pleasing paine. I have no heart, Nor can I live but sweetly murder'd with So deare, so deare a smart. II. Then flye, And kindle all your torches at her eye, To make me dye Her martyr, and put on my roabe of flame: So I, Advanced on my blazing wings on high, In death became Inthroan'd a starre, and ornament unto Her glorious, glorious name. A GUILTLESSE LADY IMPRISONED: AFTER PENANCED. SONG. SET BY MR. WILLIAM LAWES. I. EARK, faire one, how what e're here is But joy t' enjoy thee, though in griefe. II. See! that which chaynes you, you chaine here; How much thy jaylor's keeper art! He bindes your hands, but you III. his heart. The gyves to rase so smooth a skin, IV. And play about thy wanton wrist, V. And as thy bare feet blesse the way, And call thee, as amas'd they run VI. The merry torch burnes with desire VII. The sheet's ty'd ever to thy wast, How thankfull to be so imbrac't! And see! thy very very bonds Are bound to thee, to binde such hands. TO HIS DEARE BROTHER COLONEL F. L. IMMODERATELY MOURNING MY BROTHERS UNTIMELY DEATH AT CARMARTHEN. I. 1 F teares could wash the ill away, II. One drop another cals, which still 1 Thomas Lovelace. See Memoir. |