My
lively shade thou ever shalt retaine
In thy inclosed feather-framed glasse,
And but unto our selves to all remaine
Invisible, thou feature of this face!
VIII.
So said, her sad swaine over-heard and cried:
Yee Gods! for faith unstaind this a reward!
Feathers and glasse t'outweigh my vertue tryed!
Ah! show their empty strength! the gods accord.
IX.
Now fall'n the brittle favourite lyes and burst!
Amas'd LUCASTA weepes, repents and flies
To her ALEXIS, vowes her selfe acurst,
If hence she dresse her selfe but in his eyes.
<26.1> This
adaptation of the fan to the purposes of a mirror,
now so common, was, as we here are told, familiar to the ladies
of Lovelace's time. Mr. Fairholt, in his COSTUME IN ENGLAND,
1846, p. 496, describes many various forms which were given at
different periods to this article of use and
ornament; but the
present passage in LUCASTA appears to have escaped his notice.
<26.2> Ostrich. Lyly, in his EUPHUES, 1579, sig. c 4,
has ESTRIDGE. The fan here described was
composed of
ostrich-feathers set with precious stones.
<26.3> In
allusion to the
digestive powers of this bird.
<26.4> Original reads NEERE.
<26.5> The poet means that Lucasta, when she did not require
her fan for immediate use, wore it suspended at her side or
from her girdle.
<26.6> The sun.
LUCASTA, TAKING THE WATERS AT TUNBRIDGE.<27.1>
I.
Yee happy floods! that now must passe
The
sacred conduicts of her wombe,
Smooth and
transparent as your face,
When you are deafe, and windes are dumbe.
II.
Be proud! and if your waters be
Foul'd with a counterfeyted teare,
Or some false sigh hath stained yee,
Haste, and be purified there.
III.
And when her rosie gates y'have trac'd,
Continue yet some Orient wet,
'Till, turn'd into a gemme, y'are plac'd
Like diamonds with rubies set.
IV.
Yee drops, that dew th' Arabian bowers,
Tell me, did you e're smell or view
On any leafe of all your flowers
Soe sweet a sent, so rich a hiew?
V.
But as through th' Organs of her
breathYou
trickle wantonly, beware:
Ambitious Seas in their just death
As well as Lovers, must have share.
VI.
And see! you boyle as well as I;
You, that to coole her did aspire,
Now troubled and neglected lye,
Nor can your selves
quench your owne fire.
VII.
Yet still be happy in the thought,
That in so small a time as this,
Through all the Heavens you were brought
Of Vertue, Honour, Love and Blisse.
<27.1> From this it might be conjectured, though the ground for
doing so would be very slight, that LUCASTA was a native of Kent
or of one of the adjoining shires; but against this supposition
we have to set the circumstance that
elsewhere this lady is called
a "northern star."
TO LUCASTA.
ODE LYRICK.
I.
Ah LUCASTA, why so bright?
Spread with early streaked light!
If still vailed from our sight,
What is't but eternall night?
II.
Ah LUCASTA, why so
chaste?
With that
vigour, ripenes grac't,
Not to be by Man imbrac't
Makes that Royall coyne imbace't,
And this golden Orchard waste!
III.
Ah LUCASTA, why so great,
That thy crammed coffers sweat?
Yet not owner of a seat
May shelter you from Natures heat,
And your
earthly joyes compleat.
IV.
Ah Lucasta, why so good?
Blest with an unstained flood
Flowing both through soule and blood;
If it be not understood,
'Tis a Diamond in mud.
V.
LUCASTA! stay! why dost thou flye?
Thou art not bright but to the eye,
Nor
chaste but in the mariage-tye,
Nor great but in this treasurie,
Nor good but in that sanctitie.
VI.
Harder then the Orient stone,
Like an apparition,
Or as a pale shadow gone,
Dumbe and deafe she hence is flowne.
VII.
Then receive this equall dombe:
Virgins, strow no teare or bloome,
No one dig the Parian wombe;
Raise her
marble heart i'th' roome,
And 'tis both her
coarse and tombe.
LUCASTA PAYING HER OBSEQUIES TO THE CHAST MEMORY
OF MY DEAREST COSIN MRS. BOWES BARNE[S].<28.1>
I.
See! what an
undisturbed teare
She weepes for her last sleepe;
But, viewing her, straight wak'd a Star,
She weepes that she did weepe.
II.
Griefe ne're before did tyranize
On th' honour of that brow,
And at the wheeles of her brave eyes
Was
captive led til now.
III.
Thus, for a saints apostacy
The unimagin'd woes
And sorrowes of the Hierarchy
None but an angel knowes.
IV.
Thus, for lost soules recovery
The clapping of all wings
And triumphs of this victory
None but an angel sings.
V.
So none but she knows to bemone
This equal virgins fate,
None but LUCASTA can her crowne
Of glory celebrate.
VI.
Then dart on me (CHAST LIGHT)<28.2> one ray,
By which I may discry
Thy joy cleare through this cloudy day
To dresse my sorrow by.
<28.1> This lady was probably the wife of a
descendant of
Sir William Barnes, of Woolwich, whose only daughter and heir,
Anne, married the poet's father, and brought him the seat in Kent.
See GENTS. MAGAZINE for 1791, part ii. 1095.
<28.2> A
translation of LUCASTA, or LUX CASTA, for the sake
of the metre.
UPON THE CURTAINE OF LUCASTA'S PICTURE,
IT WAS THUS WROUGHT.<29.1>
Oh, stay that covetous hand; first turn all eye,
All depth and minde; then mystically spye
Her soul's faire picture, her faire soul's, in all
So truely copied from th' originall,
That you will sweare her body by this law
Is but its shadow, as this, its;--now draw.
<29.1> Pictures used
formerly to have curtains before them.
It is still done in some old houses. In WESTWARD HOE, 1607,
act ii. scene 3, there is an
allusion to this practice:--
"SIR GOSLING. So draw those curtains, and let's see the
pictures under 'em."--Webster's WORKS, ed. Hazlitt, i. 133.
LUCASTA'S WORLD.
EPODE.
I.
Cold as the
breath of winds that blow
To silver shot descending snow,
Lucasta sigh't;<30.1> when she did close
The world in
frosty chaines!
And then a frowne to rubies frose
The blood boyl'd in our veines:
Yet cooled not the heat her sphere
Of beauties first had kindled there.
II.
Then mov'd, and with a suddaine flame
Impatient to melt all againe,
Straight from her eyes she
lightning hurl'd,
And earth in ashes mournes;
The sun his blaze denies the world,
And in her
luster burnes:
Yet warmed not the hearts, her nice
Disdaine had first congeal'd to ice.
III.
And now her teares nor griev'd desire
Can
quench this raging,
pleasing fire;
Fate but one way allowes; behold
Her smiles' divinity!
They fann'd this heat, and thaw'd that cold,
So fram'd up a new sky.
Thus earth, from flames and ice repreev'd,
E're since hath in her sun-shine liv'd.
<30.1> Original reads SIGHT.
THE APOSTACY OF ONE, AND BUT ONE LADY.
I.
That frantick errour I adore,
And am confirm'd the earth turns round;
Now satisfied o're and o're,
As rowling waves, so flowes the ground,
And as her neighbour reels the shore:
Finde such a woman says she loves;