Samuel Butler To his Mistress Do not unjustly blame For venturing to disclose a flame In its own ashes it designed But that my sighs, like blasts of wind, To the Same Do not mine affection slight, 'Cause my locks with age are white; Your breasts have snow without, and snow within, Whilst flames of fire in your bright eyes are seen. Richard Lovelace the eldest son of Sir William Lovelace, of Woolwich, was born in 1618, and was educated at Charterhouse School and Gloucester Hall, Oxford. It is related that Lovelace, when only eighteen years of age, was made M.A. by Charles 1., at the request of a great lady, who was much charmed with the beauty of the youth. Lovelace went to Court, and entering the King's army attained the rank of Colonel. In April 1642 he was committed to the Gate House, at Westminster, for presenting a petition 'from the whole of the County of Kent to the House of Commons, for restoring the King to his rights.' In prison he wrote the song 'To Althea,' which, in the opinion of Southey, 'will live as long as the English language.' Released on heavy bail, Lovelace spent his fortune in the Royal cause, and in aiding poorer friends. In 1648 he was again in prison. Then he prepared for the press, Lucasta: Epodes, Odes, Sonnets, Songs, etc. (1649). Lovelace made his amours to a gentlewoman of great beauty and fortune, named Lucy Sacheverel, whom he usually addressed as Lucasta (lux casta, pure light), but 'she, upon a strong report that he was dead, of his wound received at Dunkirk (where he had brought a regiment for the service of the French king), soon after married.' Under Cromwell, Lovelace was released from prison, but, fortune and friends deserting him, he died in acute poverty, in a mean lodging in Gunpowder Alley, near Shoe Lane, in 1658. To Althea, from Prison WHEN Love with unconfinèd wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at my grates; And fetter'd to her eye, Richard Lovelace The birds that wanton in the air When flowing cups run swiftly round Our careless heads with roses bound, Know no such liberty. When, like committed linnets, I With shriller throat shall sing He is, how great should be, Know no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; 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. Abrabam Cowley was the posthumous son of a London grocer. He was born in 1618, and at the age of thirteen published his Poetical Blossoms. In 1647 a collection of his love-verses was published under the title of The Mistress. The love was purely imaginary. He never married, and, worse still, it is said that he only once fell in love, and that then he was too shy to declare his passion. Neglected by royalty after the Restoration, he retired into the country, and died at Chertsey in 1667. Love LOVE in her sunny eyes does basking play; And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there; Alexander Brome L a lawyer, whose lively Royalist rhymes were in great request, was born in 1620 and died in 1666. Why I love her 'Tis not her birth, her friends, nor yet her treasure, Nor do I covet her for sensual pleasure, Nor for that old morality Do I love her, 'cause she loves me. Sure he that loves his lady 'cause she 's fair, |