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Title: Amyntor's Grove
Author: Richard Lovelace [
More Titles by Lovelace]
AMYNTOR'S GROVE,<1>HIS CHLORIS, ARIGO,<2> AND GRATIANA. AN ELOGIE.
It was<3> Amyntor's Grove, that Chloris
For ever ecchoes, and her glories;
Chloris, the gentlest sheapherdesse,
That ever lawnes and lambes did blesse;
Her breath, like to the whispering winde,
Was calme as thought, sweet as her minde;
Her lips like coral gates kept in
The perfume and<4> the pearle within;
Her eyes a double-flaming torch
That alwayes shine, and never scorch;
Her<5> selfe the Heav'n in which did meet
The all of bright, of faire and sweet.
Here was I brought with that delight
That seperated soules take flight;
And when my reason call'd my sence
Back somewhat from this excellence,
That I could see, I did begin
T' observe the curious ordering
Of every roome, where 'ts hard to know,
Which most excels in sent or show.
Arabian gummes do breathe here forth,
And th' East's come over to the North;
The windes have brought their hyre<6> of sweet
To see Amyntor Chloris greet;
Balme and nard, and each perfume,
To blesse this payre,<7> chafe and consume;
And th' Phoenix, see! already fries!
Her neast a fire in Chloris<8> eyes!
Next<9> the great and powerful hand
Beckens my thoughts unto a stand
Of Titian, Raphael, Georgone
Whose art even Nature hath out-done;
For if weake Nature only can
Intend, not perfect, what is man,
These certainely we must prefer,
Who mended what she wrought, and her;
And sure the shadowes of those rare
And kind incomparable fayre
Are livelier, nobler company,
Then if they could or speake, or see:
For these<10> I aske without a tush,
Can kisse or touch without a blush,
And we are taught that substance is,
If uninjoy'd, but th'<11> shade of blisse.
Now every saint cleerly divine,
Is clos'd so in her severall shrine;
The gems so rarely, richly set,
For them wee love the cabinet;
So intricately plac't withall,
As if th' imbrordered the wall,
So that the pictures seem'd to be
But one continued tapistrie.<12>
After this travell of mine eyes
We sate, and pitied Dieties;
Wee bound our loose hayre with the vine,
The poppy, and the eglantine;
One swell'd an oriental bowle
Full, as a grateful, loyal soule
To Chloris! Chloris! Heare, oh, heare!
'Tis pledg'd above in ev'ry sphere.
Now streight the Indians richest prize
Is kindled in<13> glad sacrifice;
Cloudes are sent up on wings of thyme,
Amber, pomgranates, jessemine,
And through our earthen conduicts sore
Higher then altars fum'd before.
So drencht we our oppressing cares,
And choakt the wide jawes of our feares.
Whilst ravisht thus we did devise,
If this were not a Paradice
In all, except these harmlesse sins:
Behold! flew in two cherubins,
Cleare as the skye from whence they came,
And brighter than the sacred flame;
The boy adorn'd with modesty,
Yet armed so with majesty,
That if the Thunderer againe
His eagle sends, she stoops in vaine.<14>
Besides his innocence he tooke
A sword and casket, and did looke
Like Love in armes; he wrote but five,
Yet spake eighteene; each grace did strive,
And twenty Cupids thronged forth,
Who first should shew his prettier worth.
But oh, the Nymph! Did you ere know
Carnation mingled with snow?<15>
Or have you seene the lightning shrowd,
And straight breake through th' opposing cloud?
So ran her blood; such was its hue;
So through her vayle her bright haire flew,
And yet its glory did appeare
But thinne, because her eyes were neere.
Blooming boy, and blossoming mayd,
May your faire sprigges be neere betray'd
To<16> eating worme or fouler storme;
No serpent lurke to do them harme;
No sharpe frost cut, no North-winde teare,
The verdure of that fragrant hayre;
But<17> may the sun and gentle weather,
When you are both growne ripe together,
Load you with fruit, such as your Father
From you with all the joyes doth gather:
And may you, when one branch is dead,
Graft such another in its stead,
Lasting thus ever in your prime,
'Till th' sithe is snatcht away from Time.<18>
Notes:
<1> In the MS. copy this poem exhibits considerable variations, and is entitled "Gratiana's Eulogy."
<2> ARIGO or ARRIGO is the Venetian form of HENRICO. I have no means of identifying CHLORIS or GRATIANA; but AMYNTOR was probably, as I have already suggested, Endymion Porter, and ARIGO was unquestionably no other than Henry Jermyn, or Jarmin, who, though no poet, was, like his friend Porter, a liberal and discerning patron of men of letters.
"Yet when thy noble choice appear'd, that by
Their combat first prepar'd thy victory:
ENDYMION and ARIGO, who delight
In numbers--"
Davenant's MADAGASCAR, 1638 (Works, 1673, p. 212).
See also p. 247 of Davenant's Works.
Jermyn's name is associated with that of Porter in the noblest dedication in our language, that to DAVENANT'S POEMS, 1638, 12mo. "If these poems live," &c.
<3> This and the five next lines are not in MS. which opens with "Her lips," &c.
<4> So original; MS. reads OF.
<5> This and the next thirteen lines are not in MS.
<6> i.e. tribute.
<7> FAIRE--MS.
<8> HER FAIRE--MS. The story of the phoenix was very popular, and the allusions to it in the early writers are almost innumerable.
"My labour did to greater things aspire,
To find a PHOENIX melted in the fire,
Out of whose ashes should spring up to birth
A friend"--
---POEMS OF Ben Johnson jun., by W. S., 1672, p. 18.
<37.9> This and the next eleven lines are not in MS.
<37.10> The MS. reads SHE.
<11> The MS. reads for BUT TH' "the."
<12> In the houses of such as could afford the expense, the walls of rooms were formerly lined with tapestry instead of paper.
<13> So MS.; original has A.
<14> An allusion to the fable of Jupiter and Ganymede.
<15> MIX'D WITH DROPPINGE SNOW--MS.
<16> This and the succeeding line are not in MS.
<17> This and the six following lines are not in MS.
<18> Here we have a figure, which reminds us of Jonson's famous lines on the Countess of Pembroke; but certainly in this instance the palm of superiority is due to Lovelace, whose conception of Time having his scythe snatched from him is bolder and finer than that of the earlier and greater poet.
[The end]
Richard Lovelace's poem: Amyntor's Grove
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