Avieni V. C. Ad Amicos

AVIENI V. C. AD AMICOS.

Rure morans, quid agam, respondi, pauca rogatus:
Mane, deum exoro famulos, post arvaque viso,
Partitusque meis justos indico labores;
Inde lego, Phoebumque cio, Musamque lacesso;
Tunc oleo corpus fingo, mollique palaestra
Stringo libens animo, gaudensque ac foenore liber
Prandeo, poto, cano, ludo, lavo, caeno, quiesco.

ENGLISHED.

Ask'd in the country what I did, I said:
I view my men and meads, first having pray'd;
Then each of mine hath his just task outlay'd;
I read, Apollo court, I rouse my Muse;
Then I anoynt me, and stript willing loose
My self on a soft plat, from us'ry blest;
I dine, drink, sing, play, bath, I sup, I rest.

poem by Richard Lovelace
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Missing title : skey: LA BELLA BONA

I.
I cannot tell, who loves the skeleton
Of a poor marmoset; nought but boan, boan;
Give me a nakednesse, with her cloath's on.

II.
Such, whose white-sattin upper coat of skin,
Cut upon velvet rich incarnadin,
Has yet a body (and of flesh) within.

III.
Sure, it is meant good husbandry in men,
Who do incorporate with aery leane,
T' repair their sides, and get their ribb agen.

IV.
Hard hap unto that huntsman, that decrees
Fat joys for all his swet, when as he sees,
After his 'say, nought but his keepers fees.

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poem by Richard Lovelace
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The Scrutinie. Song

I.
Why shouldst thou sweare I am forsworn,
Since thine I vow'd to be?
Lady, it is already Morn,
And 'twas last night I swore to thee
That fond impossibility.

II.
Have I not lov'd thee much and long,
A tedious twelve moneths space?
I should all other beauties wrong,
And rob thee of a new imbrace;
Should I still dote upon thy face.

III.
Not but all joy in thy browne haire
In others may be found;
But I must search the black and faire,
Like skilfulle minerallists that sound
For treasure in un-plow'd-up ground.

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poem by Richard Lovelace
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La Bella Bona Roba. To My Lady H. Ode

I.
Tell me, ye subtill judges in loves treasury,
Inform me, which hath most inricht mine eye,
This diamonds greatnes, or its clarity?

II.
Ye cloudy spark lights, whose vast multitude
Of fires are harder to be found then view'd,
Waite on this star in her first magnitude.

III.
Calmely or roughly! Ah, she shines too much;
That now I lye (her influence is such),
Chrusht with too strong a hand, or soft a touch.

IV.
Lovers, beware! a certaine, double harme
Waits your proud hopes, her looks al-killing charm
Guarded by her as true victorious arme.

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poem by Richard Lovelace
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Quinti Catuli.

QUINTI CATULI.

Constiteram exorientem Auroram forte salutans,
Cum subito a laeva Roscius exoritur.
Pace mihi liceat, coelestes, dicere vestra.
Mortalis visu pulchrior esse deo.
Blanditur puero satyrus vultuque manuque;
Nolenti similis retrahit ora puer:
Quem non commoveat, quamvis de marmore? fundit
Pene preces satyrus, pene puer lachrymas.

ENGLISHED.

As once I bad good morning to the day,
O' th' sudden Roscius breaks in a bright ray:
Gods with your favour, I've presum'd to see
A mortal fairer then a deitie.
With looks and hands a satyre courts the boy,
Who draws back his unwilling cheek as coy.
Although of marble hewn, whom move not they?

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poem by Richard Lovelace
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The Scrutinie

I.

Why shouldst thou sweare I am forsworn,
Since thine I vow'd to be?
Lady, it is already Morn,
And 'twas last night I swore to thee
That fond impossibility.

II.

Have I not lov'd thee much and long,
A tedious twelve moneths space?
I should all other beauties wrong,
And rob thee of a new imbrace;
Should I still dote upon thy face.

III.

Not but all joy in thy browne haire
In others may be found;

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poem by Richard Lovelace
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To Lucasta, Going Beyond the 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 blust'ring wind or swallowing wave.

But I'll not sigh one blast or gale
To swell my sail,
Or pay a tear to 'suage
The foaming blue god's rage;
For whether he will let me pass
Or no, I'm still as happy as I was.

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.

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poem by Richard Lovelace
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Love Conquer'd

I.
The childish god of love did sweare
Thus: By my awfull bow and quiver,
Yon' weeping, kissing, smiling pair,
I'le scatter all their vowes i' th' ayr,
And their knit imbraces shiver.

II.
Up then to th' head with his best art
Full of spite and envy blowne,
At her constant marble heart,
He drawes his swiftest surest dart,
Which bounded back, and hit his owne.

III.
Now the prince of fires burnes;
Flames in the luster of her eyes;
Triumphant she, refuses, scornes;
He submits, adores and mournes,
And is his votresse sacrifice.

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poem by Richard Lovelace
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The Rose

I.

Sweet serene skye-like Flower,
Haste to adorn her Bower :
From thy long clowdy bed,
Shoot forth thy damaske head.

II.

New-startled blush of Flora !
The griefe of pale Aurora,
Who will contest no more ;
Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.

III.

Vermilion Ball that's given
From lip to lip in Heaven ;
Love's Couches cover-led :
Haste, haste, to make her bed.

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poem by Richard Lovelace
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To Lucasta. The Rose.

I.
Sweet serene skye-like flower,
Haste to adorn her bower;
From thy long clowdy bed
Shoot forth thy damaske head.

II.
New-startled blush of FLORA!
The griefe of pale AURORA,
Who will contest no more,
Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.

III.
Vermilion ball, that's given
From lip to lip in Heaven;
Loves couches cover-led,
Haste, haste, to make her bed.

IV.
Dear offspring of pleas'd VENUS,

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poem by Richard Lovelace
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