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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=499040" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Lady A. L. My Asylum In A Great Exteremity.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">With that delight the Royal captiv's brought<br>Before the throne, to breath his farewell thought,<br>To tel his last tale, and so end with it,<br>Which gladly he esteemes a benefit;<br>When the brave victor, at his great soule dumbe,<br>Findes something there fate cannot overcome,<br>Cals the chain'd prince, and by his glory led,<br>First reaches him his crowne, and then his head;<br>Who ne're 'til now thinks himself slave and poor;<br>For though nought else, he had himselfe before.<br>He weepes at this faire chance, nor wil allow,<br>But that the diadem doth brand his brow,<br>And under-rates himselfe below mankinde,<br>Who first had lost his body, now his minde,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> With such a joy came I to heare my dombe,<br>And haste the preparation of my tombe,<br>When, like good angels who have heav'nly charge<br>To steere and guide mans sudden giddy barge,<br>She snatcht me from the rock I was upon,<br>And landed me at life's pavillion:<br>Where I, thus wound out of th' immense abysse,<br>Was straight set on a pinacle of blisse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Let me leape in againe! and by that fall<br>Bring me to my first woe, so cancel all:<br>Ah! 's this a quitting of the debt you owe,<br>To crush her and her goodnesse at one blowe?<br> Defend me from so foule impiety,<br>Would make friends grieve, and furies weep to see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Now, ye sage spirits, which infuse in men<br>That are oblidg'd twice to oblige agen,<br>Informe my tongue in labour what to say,<br>And in what coyne or language to repay.<br>But you are silent as the ev'nings ayre,<br>When windes unto their hollow grots repaire.<br> Oh, then accept the all that left me is,<br>Devout oblations of a sacred wish!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> When she walks forth, ye perfum'd wings oth' East,<br>Fan her, 'til with the Sun she hastes to th' West,<br>And when her heav'nly course calles up the day,<br>And breakes as bright, descend, some glistering ray,<br>To circle her, and her as glistering haire,<br>That all may say a living saint shines there.<br>Slow Time, with woollen feet make thy soft pace,<br>And leave no tracks ith' snow of her pure face;<br>But when this vertue must needs fall, to rise<br>The brightest constellation in the skies;<br>When we in characters of fire shall reade,<br>How cleere she was alive, how spotless, dead.<br>All you that are a kinne to piety:<br>For onely you can her close mourners be,<br>Draw neer, and make of hallowed teares a dearth:<br>Goodnes and justice both are fled the earth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> If this be to be thankful, I'v a heart<br>Broaken with vowes, eaten with grateful smart,<br>And beside this, the vild world nothing hath<br>Worth anything but her provoked wrath;<br>So then, who thinkes to satisfie in time,<br>Must give a satisfaction for that crime:<br>Since she alone knowes the gifts value, she<br>Can onely to her selfe requitall be,<br>And worthyly to th' life paynt her owne story<br>In its true colours and full native glory;<br>Which when perhaps she shal be heard to tell,<br>Buffoones and theeves, ceasing to do ill,<br>Shal blush into a virgin-innocence,<br>And then woo others from the same offence;<br>The robber and the murderer, in 'spite<br>Of his red spots, shal startle into white:<br>All good (rewards layd by) shal stil increase<br>For love of her, and villany decease;<br>Naught be ignote, not so much out of feare<br>Of being punisht, as offending her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> So that, when as my future daring bayes<br>Shall bow it selfe in lawrels to her praise,<br>To crown her conqu'ring goodnes, and proclaime<br>The due renowne and glories of her name:<br>My wit shal be so wretched and so poore<br>That, 'stead of praysing, I shal scandal her,<br>And leave, when with my purest art I'v done,<br>Scarce the designe of what she is begunne:<br>Yet men shal send me home, admir'd, exact;<br>Proud, that I could from her so wel detract.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Where, then, thou bold instinct, shal I begin<br>My endlesse taske? To thanke her were a sin<br>Great as not speake, and not to speake, a blame<br>Beyond what's worst, such as doth want a name;<br>So thou my all, poore gratitude, ev'n thou<br>In this wilt an unthankful office do:<br>Or wilt I fling all at her feet I have:<br>My life, my love, my very soule, a slave?<br>Tye my free spirit onely unto her,<br>And yeeld up my affection prisoner?<br>Fond thought, in this thou teachest me to give<br>What first was hers, since by her breath I live;<br>And hast but show'd me, how I may resigne<br>Possession of those thing are none of mine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Richard+Lovelace">Richard Lovelace</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=499040" data-title="The Lady A. L. My Asylum In A Great Exteremity. de Richard Lovelace" data-description="With that delight the Royal captiv's brought
Before the throne, to breath his farewell thought,
To tel his last tale, and so end with it,
Which gladly he esteemes a benefit;
When the brave victor, at his great soule dumbe,
Findes something there f..."></div>
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