And lets us know, when women scorn, it is
Men's hot love makes the antiparisthesis.
And a lay lover here such comfort finds,
As holy writ gives to affected minds.

The wilder nymphs love's power could not command
Are by thy almighty numbers brought to hand,

And flying Daphne's caught, amazed vow
They never heard Apollo court till now.

"Tis not by force of arms this feat is done,
For that would puzzle even the knight o'th' sun;
But 'tis by pow'r of art, and such a way

As Orpheus us'd, when he made fiends obey.

J. NEEDLER, HOSP. GRAYENSIS.

SIR,

TO HIS NOBLE FRIEND,

MR. RICHARD LOVELACE,

UPON HIS

POEMS.

OUR times are much degenerate from those

Which your sweet muse, which your fair fortune chose,

And as complexions alter with the climes,

Our wits have drawn th' infection of our times.

That candid age no other way could tell

To be ingenious, but by speaking well.

Who best could praise, had then the greatest praise,

'Twas more esteemed to give, than wear the baize:

Modest ambition studied only then,
To honour not herself, but worthy men.
These virtues now are banish'd out of town,
Our civil wars have lost the civic crown.

He highest builds, who with most art destroys,
And against others fame his own employs.
I see the envious caterpillar sit

On the fair blossom of each growing wit.

The air's already tainted with the swarms
Of insects which against you rise in arms.
Wood-peckers, paper-rats, book-scorpions,
Of wit corrupted, the unfashion'd sons.
The barbed censurers begin to look
Like the grim consistory on thy book;
And on each line cast a reforming eye,
Severer than the young presbytery.

Till when in vain they have thee all perus'd,
You shall for being faultless be accus'd.
Some reading your Lucasta, will allege
You wrong'd in her the House's privilege;
Some that you under sequestration are,
Because you write when going to the war;
And one the book prohibits, because Kent
Their first petition by the author sent.

But when the beauteous ladies came to know That their dear Lovelace was endanger'd so: Lovelace, that thaw'd the most congealed breast, He who lov'd best and them defended best;

Whose hand so rudely grasps the steely brand,
Whose hand so gently melts the lady's hand;
They all in mutiny, though yet undress'd,
Sally'd, and would in his defence contest.
And one, the loveliest that was yet e'er seen,
Thinking that I too of the rout had been,
Mine eyes invaded with a female spite,

(She knew what pain 'twould be to lose that sight.) O no, mistake not, I replied, for I

In your defence or in his cause would die.
But he, secure of glory and of time,

Above their envy or mine aid doth climb.

Him, valian'st men, and fairest nymphs approve, His book in them finds judgment, with you love.

ANDR. MARVELL.

ΤΟ

COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE,

ON THE PUBLISHING OF HIS INGENIOUS POEMS.

If the desire of glory speak a mind

More nobly, operative, and more refin'd,

What vast soul moves thee? Or what hero's spirit

(Kept in'ts traduction pure) dost thou inherit,

That not contented with one single fame,
Dost to a double glory spread thy name?
And on thy happy temples safely set
Both th' delphic wreath and civic coronet.

Was't not enough for us to know how far
Thou couldst in season suffer, act, and dare?
But we must also witness with what height
And what Ionic sweetness thou canst write?
And melt those eager passions that are
Stubborn enough t'enrage the God of war,
Into a noble love, which may aspire
In an illustrious pyramid of fire,

Which having gained his due station may
Fix there, and everlasting flames display.
This is the braver pathtime soon can smother
The dear-bought spoils and trophies of the other.
How many fiery heroes have there been,
Whose triumphs were as soon forgot as seen?
Because they wanted some diviner one

To rescue them from night and make them known.

Such art thou to thyself: while others dream Strong flatt'ries on a feign'd or borrow'd theme, Thou shalt remain in thine own lustre bright, And add unto't Lucasta's chaster light.

For none so fit to sing great things as he
That can act o'er all lights of poetry.
Thus had Achilles his own gests design'd,
He had his genius Homer far outshin'd.

JO. HALL.

The following is Aubrey's Account of Lovelace, which has been printed by Mr. Bliss, in his new edition of the Athena Oxoniensis, Vol. iii.

"Richard Lovelace, Esq. obiit in a cellar, in Long Acre, a little before the restoration of his Matie, Mr. Edm. Wyld, &c. had made collections for him, and given him money. He was of , in Kent, 500l. or more. He was an extraordinary handsome man, but prowd. He wrote a poem called Lucasta, 8vo., 1649. He was of Gloucester Hall, as I have been told. He had two yonger brothers, viz. Col. Fr. L., and another that died at Carmarthen. Geo. Petty, haberdasher, in Fleet Street, carried xx. to him every Munday morning, from Sir Many and Charles Cotton, Esq. for months, but was never repayd."

Mr. Bliss found Bp. Percy's proposed alteration of GODS to BIRDS in the Song to Althea, already adopted in an old MS. copy of that poem.