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Poem by Richard Lovelace 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. V Thus with her eyes brave Tamyris spake dread, Which when the kings dull breast not entered, Finding she could not looke, she strook him dead. Richard Lovelace Richard Lovelace's other poems: 3222 Views |
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