RICHARD LOVELACE
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.
557 To Althea, jrom Prison
r HEN Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I he 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, Our careless heads with roses bound,
Our hearts with loval flames, When thirsty grief in wine we steep,
When healths and draughts go fiee Fishes that tipple in the deep
Know no such liberty.
When, like committed linnets, I
With shriller throat shall sing The sweetness, mercy, majesty,
And glories of my King, When I shall voice aloud how good
He is, how great should be, Enlarged winds, that curl the flood,
Know no such liberty.
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