RICHARD LOVELACE

Do not then wind up that light

In ribbands, and o'ercloud in night,

Like the Sun in's early ray;

But shake your head, and scatter day!

347. The Grasshopper

OTHOU that swing' st upon the waving hair Of some well-filled oaten beard, Drunk every night with a delicious tear

Dropt thee from heaven, where thou wert rear'd !

The joys of earth and air are thine entire,

That with thy feet and wings dost hop and fly;

And when thy poppy works, thou dost retire To thy carved acorn-bed to lie.

Up with the day, the Sun thou welcom'st then, Sport' st in the gilt plaits of his beams,

And all these merry days mak'st merry men, Thyself, and melancholy streams.

��To Althea, from "Prison

EN 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.

When flowing cups run swiftly round With no allaying Thames,

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