No, no, no, I'll love you still, What fortune e'er betide me.

Circa 1617.

THE GIVEN HEART.

I Wonder what those lovers mean, who say They've given their hearts away.

Some good, kind lover, tell me how: For mine is but a torment to me now.

If so it be one place both hearts contain, For what do they complain?

What courtesy can Love do more, Than to join hearts that parted were before?

Woe to her stubborn heart, if once mine come Into the self-same room; 'Twill tear and blow up all within Like a grenade shot into a magazine.

Then shall Love keep the ashes and torn parts Of both our broken hearts; Shall out of both one new one make, From hers th' alloy, from mine the metal take.

For of her heart he from the flames will find But little left behind: Mine only will remain entire, No dross was there to perish in the fire.

Abraham Cowley.

ICE AND FIRE.

Naked Love did to thine eye, Chloris, once to warm him, fly; But its subtle flame, and light, Scorch'd his wings, and spoiled his sight.

Forc'd from thence he went to rest In the soft couch of thy breast: But there met a frost so great, As his torch extinguish'd straight.

When poor Cupid (thus constrain'd His cold bed to leave) complain'd: "'Las! what lodging's here for me, If all ice and fire she be."

Sir Edmund Sherburne.

AMARANTHA.

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.

A MOCK SONG.

Tis true I never was in love: But now I mean to be, For there's no art Can shield a heart From love's supremacy.

Though in my nonage I have seen A world of taking faces, I had not age or wit to ken Their several hidden graces.

Those virtues which, though thinly set, In others are admired, In thee are altogether met, Which make thee so desired.

That though I never was in love, Nor never meant to be, Thyself and parts Above my arts Have drawn my heart to thee.

Alexander Brome.

SPEAKING AND KISSING.

The air which thy smooth voice doth break, Into my soul like lightning flies; My life retires while thou dost speak, And thy soft breath its room supplies.

Lost in this pleasing ecstasy, I join my trembling lips to thine, And back receive that life from thee Which I so gladly did resign.

Forbear, Platonic fools! t' inquire What numbers do the soul compose; No harmony can life inspire But that which from these accents flows.

Thomas Stanley.