Richard Lovelace - OdeRichard Lovelace - Ode
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I.
You are deceiv`d; I sooner may, dull fair,
Seat a dark Moor in Cassiopea`s chair,
Or on the glow-worm`s uselesse light
Bestow the watching flames of night,
Or give the rose`s breath
To executed death,
Ere the bright hiew
Of verse to you;
It is just Heaven on beauty stamps a fame,
And we, alas! its triumphs but proclaim.
II.
What chains but are too light for me, should I
Say that Lucasta in strange arms could lie?
Or that Castara were impure;
Or Saccarisa`s faith unsure?
That Chloris` love, as hair,
Embrac`d each en`mies air;
That all their good
Ran in their blood?
`Tis the same wrong th` unworthy to inthrone,
As from her proper sphere t` have vertue thrown.
III.
That strange force on the ignoble hath renown;
As AURUM FULMINANS, it blows vice down.
`Twere better (heavy one) to crawl
Forgot, then raised, trod on [to] fall.
All your defections now
Are not writ on your brow;
Odes to faults give
A shame must live.
When a fat mist we view, we coughing run;
But, that once meteor drawn, all cry: undone.
IV.
How bright the fair Paulina did appear,
When hid in jewels she did seem a star!
But who could soberly behold
A wicked owl in cloath of gold,
Or the ridiculous Ape
In sacred Vesta`s shape?
So doth agree
Just praise with thee:
For since thy birth gave thee no beauty, know,
No poets pencil must or can do so.
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