Like Alexander I will reign, And I will reign alone: My thoughts did evermore disdain A rival on my throne. He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch, To gain or lose it all. But, if thou wilt prove faithful then And constant of thy word, I'll make thee glorious by my pen, And famous by my sword; I'll serve thee in such noble ways Was never heard before; I'll crown and deck thee all with bays And love thee more and more. _Montrose._ XIX GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field, And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore: I could not love thee, Dear, so much Loved I not Honour more. _Lovelace._ XX FROM PRISON When Love with unconfinËd wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The Gods that wanton in the air Know no such liberty. When flowing cups run swiftly round With no allaying Thames, Our careless heads with roses crowned, Our hearts with loyal flames; When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and draughts go free, Fishes that tipple in the deep Know no such liberty. When, linnet-like confinËd, 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, EnlargËd winds that curl the flood 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. _Lovelace._ XXI TWO KINGS The forward youth that would appear Must now forsake his Muses dear, Nor in the shadows sing His numbers languishing. 'Tis time to leave the books in dust, And oil the unusËd armour's rust, Removing from the wall The corselet of the hall. So restless Cromwell could not cease In the inglorious arts of peace, But through adventurous war UrgËd his active star; And, like the three-forked lightning, first Breaking the clouds where it was nurst, Did thorough his own side His fiery way divide; For 'tis all one to courage high, The emulous or enemy, And with such to inclose Is more than to oppose; Then burning through the air he went, And palaces and temples rent; And CÊsar's head at last Did through his laurels blast.