VI. Each day, with her small brazen stings, A thousand times she rac'd it; But then at night, bright with her gemmes, Once neere her breast she plac'd it. VII. There warme it gan to throb and bleed; She knew that smart, and grieved; At length this poore condemned heart With these rich drugges repreeved. VIII. She washt the wound with a fresh teare, Which my LUCASTA dropped, And in the sleave<20.5>-silke of her haire 'Twas hard bound up and wrapped. IX. She proab'd it with her constancie, And found no rancor nigh it; Only the anger of her eye Had wrought some proud flesh by it. X. Then prest she narde in ev'ry veine, Which from her kisses trilled; And with the balme heald all its paine, That from her hand distilled. XI. But yet this heart avoyds me still, Will not by me be owned; But's fled to its physitian's breast; There proudly sits inthroned. <20.1> Prize. It is not uncommonly used by the early dramatists in this sense; but the verb TO PURCHASE is more usually found than the noun. "Yet having opportunity, he tries, Gets her goodwill, and with his purchase flies." Wither's ABUSES STRIPT AND WHIPT, 1613. <20.2> Here I have hazarded an emendation of the text. In original we read, CRUELL STILL ON. Lovelace's poems were evidently printed without the slightest care. <20.3> Original reads IT'S. <20.4> Original has BELIEFE. <<20.5>> Soft, like floss. ORPHEUS TO WOODS. SONG. SET BY MR. CURTES. Heark! Oh heark! you guilty trees, In whose gloomy galleries Was the cruell'st murder done, That e're yet eclipst the sunne. Be then henceforth in your twigges Blasted, e're you sprout to sprigges; Feele no season of the yeere, But what shaves off all your haire, Nor carve any from your wombes Ought but coffins and their tombes. ORPHEUS<21.1> TO BEASTS. SONG. SET BY MR. CURTES.<21.2> I. Here, here, oh here! EURIDICE, Here was she slaine; Her soule 'still'd through a veine: The gods knew lesse That time divinitie, Then ev'n, ev'n these Of brutishnesse. II. Oh! could you view the melodie Of ev'ry grace, And musick of her face,<21.3> You'd drop a teare, Seeing more harmonie In her bright eye, Then now you heare. <21.1> By Orpheus we may perhaps understand Lovelace himself, and by Euridice, the lady whom he celebrates under the name of Lucasta. Grainger mentions (BIOG. HIST. ii. 74) a portrait of Lovelace by Gaywood, in which he is represented as Orpheus. I have not seen it. The old poets were rather fond of likening themselves to this legendary personage, or of designating themselves his poetical children:-- "We that are ORPHEUS' sons, and can inherit By that great title"-- Davenant's WORKS, 1673, p. 215.