THE LADY'S YES.

TO LUCASTA.

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,

That from the nunnery

Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;

I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honor more.

RICHARD LOVELACE.

THE LADY'S YES.

"Yes!" I answered you last night: "No!" this morning, sir, I say. Colors seen by candle-light,

Will not look the same by day.

199

When the tabors played their best,

Lamps above, and laughs below, Love me sounded like a jest,

Fit for Yes, or fit for No!

Call me false; or call me free;
Vow, whatever light may shine,
No man on thy face shall see
Any grief for change on mine.

Yet the sin is on us both;

Time to dance is not to woo; Wooer light makes fickle troth, Scorn of me recoils on you.

Learn to win a lady's faith

Nobly as the thing is high, Bravely as for life and death, With a loyal gravity.

Lead her from the festive boards;
Point her to the starry skies;
Guard her by your faithful words,
Pure from courtship's flatteries.

By your truth she shall be true,
Ever true as wives of yore,
And her Yes, once said to you,
Shall be Yes for evermore.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

THE TRIBUTE.

No splendor 'neath the sky's proud dome But serves for her familiar wear;

THE BRIDE.

The far-fetch'd diamond finds its home
Flashing and smouldering in her hair;
For her the seas their pearls reveal;
Art and strange lands her pomp supply
With purple, chrome, and cochineal,
Ochre, and lapis lazuli;

The worm its golden woof presents;

Whatever runs, flies, dives, or delves, All doff for her their ornaments,

Which suit her better than themselves;
And all, by this their power to give
Proving her right to take, proclaim
Her beauty's clear prerogative
To profit so by Eden's blame.

COVENTRY PATMORE.

201

THE BRIDE.

Her finger was so small the ring

Would not stay on which they did bring,-
It was too wide a peck;

And, to say truth,-for out it must,-
It looked like the great collar-just-
About our young colt's neck.

Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice stole in and out,
As if they feared the light;

But O, she dances such a way!
No sun upon an Easter day
Is half so fine a sight.

Her cheeks so rare a white was on,
No daisy makes comparison;

Who sees them is undone;
For streaks of red were mingled there,
Such as are on a Cath'rine pear,

The side that's next the sun.

Her lips were red; and one was thin,
Compared to that was next her chin,

Some bee had stung it newly;
But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face,
I durst no more upon them gaze,
Than on the sun in July.

Her mouth so small, when she does speak Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did

break,

That they might passage get;

But she so handles still the matter,
They came as good as ours, or better,
And are not spent a whit.

SIR JOHN SUCKLING.

MAUD.

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.

203

Sitting in my window,

Pointing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god, (I thought, but it was you,) enter our gates; My blood flew out and back again, as fast As I had pressed it forth, and sucked it in, Like breath; then when I was called away in haste

To entertain you. Never was a man

Heaved from a sheepcot to a scepter, raised
So high in thoughts as I; you left a kiss
Upon these lips, then, which I mean to keep
From you forever. I did hear you talk
Far above singing; after you were gone,
I grew acquainted with my heart, and searched
What stirred it so. Alas! I found it love.
BEAUMONT and FLETCHER.

MAUD.

A voice by the cedar-tree,

In the meadow under the Hall!

She is singing an air that is known to me,
A passionate ballad gallant and gay,
A martial song like a trumpet's call!
Singing alone in the morning of life,
In the happy morning of life and of May,
Singing of men that in battle array,