Bid that heart stay, and it will stay, To honour thy decree: Or bid it languish quite away, And 't shall do so for thee. Bid me to weep, and I will weep While I have eyes to see: And having none, yet I will keep A heart to weep for thee. Bid me despair, and I'll despair, Under that cypress tree: Or bid me die, and I will dare E'en Death, to die for thee. Thou art my life, my love, my heart, The very eyes of me, And hast command of every part, To live and die for thee. _R. Herrick_ CXXV Love not me for comely grace, For my pleasing eye or face, Nor for any outward part, No, nor for my constant heart,-- For those may fail, or turn to ill, So thou and I shall sever: Keep therefore a true woman's eye, And love me still, but know not why-- So hast thou the same reason still To doat upon me ever! _Anon._ CXXVI Not, Celia, that I juster am Or better than the rest; For I would change each hour, like them, Were not my heart at rest, But I am tied to very thee By every thought I have; Thy face I only care to see, Thy heart I only crave. All that in woman is adored In thy dear self I find-- For the whole sex can but afford The handsome and the kind. Why then should I seek further store, And still make love anew? When change itself can give no more, 'Tis easy to be true. _Sir C. Sedley_ CXXVII _TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON_ When Love with unconfinéd wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair And fetter'd 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 bound, 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, (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, Enlargéd 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. _Colonel Lovelace_ CXXVIII _TO LUCASTA, GOING BEYOND THE SEAS_ If to be absent were to be Away from thee; Or that when I am gone You or I were alone; Then, my Lucasta, might I crave Pity from blustering wind, or swallowing wave.