Richard Lovelace (Ричард Лавлейс)

To the Right Hon

 My Lady Anne Lovelace

To the richest Treasury
That e'er fill'd ambitious eye;
To the faire bright Magazin
Hath impoverisht Love's Queen;
To th' Exchequer of all honour
(All take pensions but from her);
To the taper of the thore
Which the god himselfe but bore;
To the Sea of Chaste Delight;
Let me cast the Drop I write.
And as at Loretto's shrine
Caesar shovels in his mine,
Th' Empres spreads her carkanets,
The lords submit their coronets,
Knights their chased armes hang by,
Maids diamond-ruby fancies tye;
Whilst from the pilgrim she wears
One poore false pearl, but ten true tears:
So among the Orient prize,
(Saphyr-onyx eulogies)
Offer'd up unto your fame,
Take my garnet-dublet name,
And vouchsafe 'midst those rich joyes
(With devotion) these toyes. 

1. When I by Thy Faire Shape Did Sweare
2. Lucasta's World
3. Courante Monsieur
4. To Chloe, Courting Her For His Friend
5. Depose Your Finger Of That Ring

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1821

Последние стихотворения

To English version