That frown, Aminta, now hath drown'd
Thy bright front's pow'r, and crown'd
Me that was bound.
No, no, deceived cruel, no!
Love's fiery darts,
Till tipt with kisses, never kindle hearts.
Adieu, weak beauteous tyrant, see!
Thy angry flames meant me,
Retort on thee:
For know, it is decreed, proud fair,
I ne'r must dye
By any scorching, but a melting, eye.
More verses by Richard Lovelace
- To The Genius Of Mr. John Hall. On His Exact Translation Of
- An Anniversary On The Hymeneals Of My Noble Kinsman, Tho. S
- An Elegie. Princesse Katherine Borne, Christened, Buried, In One Day
- The Triumphs Of Philamore And Amoret. To The Noblest Of Our
- To My Worthy Friend Mr. Peter Lilly: On That Excellent Pict