II. Then flye, And kindle all your torches at her eye, To make me dye Her martyr, and put on my roabe of flame: So I, Advanced on my blazing wings on high, In death became Inthroan'd a starre, and ornament unto Her glorious, glorious name. A GUILTLESSE LADY IMPRISONED: AFTER PENANCED. SONG. SET BY MR. WILLIAM LAWES. I. Heark, faire one, how what e're here is Doth laugh and sing at thy distresse; Not out of hate to thy reliefe, But joy t' enjoy thee, though in griefe. II. See! that which chaynes you, you chaine here; The prison is thy prisoner; How much thy jaylor's keeper art! He bindes your hands, but you his heart. III. The gyves to rase so smooth a skin, Are so unto themselves within; But, blest to kisse so fayre an arme, Haste to be happy with that harme; IV. And play about thy wanton wrist, As if in them thou so wert drest; But if too rough, too hard they presse, Oh, they but closely, closely kisse. V. And as thy bare feet blesse the way, The people doe not mock, but pray, And call thee, as amas'd they run Instead of prostitute, a nun. VI. The merry torch burnes with desire To kindle the eternall fire, And lightly daunces in thine eyes To tunes of epithalamies. VII. The sheet's ty'd ever to thy wast, How thankfull to be so imbrac't! And see! thy very very bonds Are bound to thee, to binde such hands. TO HIS DEARE BROTHER COLONEL F. L. IMMODERATELY MOURNING MY BROTHERS<52.1> UNTIMELY DEATH AT CARMARTHEN. I. If teares could wash the ill away, A pearle for each wet bead I'd pay; But as dew'd corne the fuller growes, So water'd eyes but swell our woes. II. One drop another cals, which still (Griefe adding fuell) doth distill; Too fruitfull of her selfe is anguish, We need no cherishing to languish. III. Coward fate degen'rate man Like little children uses, when He whips us first, untill we weepe, Then, 'cause we still a weeping keepe. IV. Then from thy firme selfe never swerve; Teares fat the griefe that they should sterve; Iron decrees of destinie Are ner'e wipe't out with a wet eye. V. But this way you may gaine the field, Oppose but sorrow, and 'twill yield; One gallant thorough-made resolve Doth starry influence dissolve. <52.1> Thomas Lovelace. See MEMOIR. <see note 2.7> TO A LADY THAT DESIRED ME I WOULD BEARE MY PART WITH HER IN A SONG. MADAM A. L.<53.1> This is the prittiest motion: Madam, th' alarums of a drumme That cals your lord, set to your cries, To mine are sacred symphonies.