Tudor and Stuart Love Songs — Richard Lovelace

Amarantha, sweet and fair, Forbear to braid that shining hair;

As my curious hand or eye, Hovering round thee, let it fly: Let it fly as unconfined As its ravisher the wind, Who has left his darling east To wanton o'er this spicy nest.

Every tress must be confess'd But neatly tangled at the best, Like a clew of golden thread, Most excellently ravelled.

Do not then wind up that light In ribands, and o'ercloud the night;

Like the sun in his early ray, But shake your head and scatter day.

Richard Lovelace.

TO ALTHEA, FROM PRISON.

When love, with unconfined wings, Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates;

When I lie tangled in her hair, And fetter'd to her eye-- The birds that wanton in the air, Know no such liberty.

* * * * * Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage;

Minds innocent and quiet take 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.

Richard Lovelace.