Richard Lovelace
I.
That frantick errour I adore,
And
am confirm'd the earth turns round;
Now satisfied o're and o're,
As
rowling waves, so flowes the ground,
And as her neighbour reels the
shore:
Finde such a woman says she loves;
She's that fixt heav'n, which
never moves.
II.
In marble, steele, or porphyrie,
Who carves or
stampes his armes or face,
Lookes it by rust or storme must dye:
This
womans love no time can raze,
Hardned like ice in the sun's eye,
Or your
reflection in a glasse,
Which keepes possession, though you
passe.
III.
We not behold a watches hand
To stir, nor plants or
flowers to grow;
Must we infer that this doth stand,
And therefore, that
those do not blow?
This she acts calmer, like Heav'ns brand,
The stedfast
lightning, slow loves dart,
She kils, but ere we feele the
smart.
IV.
Oh, she is constant as the winde,
That revels in an
ev'nings aire!
Certaine as wayes unto the blinde,
More reall then her
flatt'ries are;
Gentle as chaines that honour binde,
More faithfull then
an Hebrew Jew,
But as the divel not halfe so true.