CXXXVI.

LOVE'S PROTESTATION.

TO ALTHEA.

WHEN Love with unconfinèd 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.

When flowing cups run swiftly round

With no allaying Thames,

Our careless heads with roses crowned,
Our hearts with loyal flames;
When thirsty grief in wine we steep,

When healths and draughts go free-
Fishes that tipple n the deep
Know no such liberty.

When, linnet-like confinèd, I

With shriller throat shall sing
The sweetness, mercy, majesty
And glories of my king;

When I shall voice aloud how good
He is, how great should be,
Enlarged winds, that curl the flood,
Know no such liberty.

Stone walls do not a prison make,

Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take

That for an hermitage :
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,

Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.

Richard Lovelace.

CXXXVII.

LOVE'S PROTESTATION.

LOVE AND HONOUR.

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.

Richard Lovelace.

CXXXVIII.

LOVE'S PROTESTATION.

LOVE'S STEADFASTNESS.

No more shall meads be decked with flowers,
Nor sweetness dwell in rosy bowers;
Nor greenest bud on branches spring,
Nor warbling birds delight to sing;
Nor April violets deck the grove,
If I forsake my Celia's love.

The fish shall in the occan burn,
And fountains sweet shall bitter turn;
The humble oak no flood shall know
When floods shall highest hills o'erflow;
Black Lethe shall oblivion leave,

If e'er my Celia I deceive.

Love shall his bow and shaft lay by,
And Venus' doves want wings to fly ;
The sun refuse to show his light,
And day shall then be turned to night;
And in that night no star appear,
If once I leave my Celia dear.

Love shall no more inhabit earth,
Nor lovers more shall love for worth;
Nor joy above in heaven dwell,
Nor torment pain poor souls in hell;
Grim death no more shall horrid prove,
If e'er I leave bright Celia's love.

Thomas Carew.

CXXXIX.

LOVE'S PROTESTATION.

LOVE'S FLAME UNQUENCHABLE.

How ill doth he deserve a lover's name,
Whose pale weak frame

Cannot retain

His heat, in spite of absence or disdain;
But doth at once, like paper set on fire,
Burn and expire!

True love cannot change his seat,

Nor did he ever love that could retreat.

That noble flame, which my breast keeps alive, Shall still survive

When my soul's fled;

Nor shall my love die when my body's dead,

That shall wait on me in the lower shade,

And never fade.

My very ashes in their urn

Shall, like a hallowed lamp, for ever burn.

Thomas Carew.

CXL.

LOVE'S PROTESTATION.

TO ELECTRA.

I DARE not ask a kiss,

I dare not beg a smile;
Lest, having that, or this,

I might grow proud the while.

No, no; the utmost share

Of my desire shall be

Only to kiss the air

That lately kissed thee.

Robert Herrick.

CXLI.

LOVE'S PROTESTATION.

TO HIS MISTRESS.

You say, I love not, 'cause I do not play
Still with your curls, and kiss the time away;
You blame me, too, because I can't devise
Some sport, to please those babies in your eyes :

By love's religion, I must here confess it,
The most I love, when I the least express it!
Small griefs find tongues; full casks are ever found
To give, if any, yet but little sound;

Deep waters noiseless are; and this we know,
That chiding streams betray small depths below;
So when Love speechless is, she doth express
A depth in love, and that depth bottomless.
Now since my love is tongueless, know me such,
Who speak but little, 'cause I love so much.

CXLII.

Robert Herrick.

LOVE'S PROTESTATION.

A BOND-SLAVE.

WHEN I tie about thy wrist,

Julia, this my siken twist,
For what other reason is 't

But to show thee how, in part,
Thou my pretty captive art?
-But thy bond-slave is my heart.

'T is but silk that bindeth thee,
Snap the thread, and thou art free;
But 't is otherwise with me:

I am bound, and fast bound, so
That from thee I cannot go :

If I could I would not so!

Robert Herrick.

CXLIII.

LOVE'S PROTESTATION.

TO LIVE AND DIE FOR THEE.

BID me to live, and I will live
Thy Protestant to be:

Or bid me love, and I will give

A loving heart to thee,

-

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,

A heart as sound and free

As in the whole world thou canst find,-
That heart I'll give to thee.

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,

To honour thy decree :

Or bid it languish quite away,
And 't shall do so for thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep,
While I have eyes to see:
And having none, yet I will keep
A heart to weep for thee.
Bid me despair, and I'll despair,
Under that cypress tree :
Or bid me die, and I will dare

E'en death, to die for thee.