Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE GIVEN LOVER, by ABRAHAM COWLEY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE GIVEN LOVER, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I'le on, for what should hinder me
Last Line: And know at first that thou art she.
Subject(s): Love


1.

I'le on, for what should hinder me
From Loving, and Enjoying Thee?
Thou canst not those exceptions make,
Which thin-souled under mortals take;
That my Fate's too meane and low;
'Twere pitty I should love thee so,
If that dull cause could hinder me
In Loving, and Enjoying thee.

2.

It does not me a whit displease,
That the rich all honours seise;
That you all Titles make your owne,
Are Valiant, Learned, Wise alone.
But if you claim o're Women too
The power which over Men ye doe;
If you alone must Lovers bee;
For that, Sirs, you must pardon mee.

3.

Rather then loose what does so neare
Concerne my Life and Being here,
I'le some such crooked waies invent,
As you, or your Fore-Fathers went:
I'le flatter or oppose the King,
Turn Puritan, or Any thing:
I'le force my Mind to arts so new:
Grow Rich, and Love as well as You.

4.

But rather thus let me remaine,
As Man in Paradise did reigne;
When perfect Love did so agree,
With Innocence and Poverty.
Adam did no Joynture give,
Himselfe was Joynture to his Eve:
Untoucht with Av'arice yet, or Pride.
The Rib came freely back to his side.

5.

A curse upon the man who taught
Women, that Love was to be bought;
Rather dote onely on your Gold,
And that with greedy av'arice hold;
For if Woman too submit
To that and sell her self for it,
Fond Lover, you a Mistress have
Of her, that's but your Fellow-slave.


6.

What should those Poets meane of old,
That made their God to wooe in Gold?
Of all men sure They had no cause
To bind Love to such costly Lawes;
And yet I scarcely blame them now;
For who, alas, would not allow,
That Women should such gifts receive,
Could They, themselves, Be what They give?

7.

If thou, my Deare, Thy selfe should'st prize,
Alas, what value would suffice?
The Spaniard could not doe't, though hee
Should to both Indies joynture thee.
Thy beauties therefore wrong will take,
If thou should'st any bargaine make;
To give All will befit thee well,
But not at Under-Rates to sell.

8.

Bestow thy Beauty then on mee,
Freely, as Nature gave't to Thee;
'Tis an exploded Popish Thought
To think that Heaven may be bought.
Prayers, Hymns, and Prayses are the way;
And those my thankful Muse shall pay;
Thy Body, in my Verse enshrin'd,
Shall grow immortal as thy Minde.

9.

I'le fixe thy title next in fame
To Sacharissa's well-sung name.
So faithfully will I declare
What all thy wondrous beauties are,
That when, at the last great Assize,
Men strait shall cast their Eyes on Thee
And know at first that Thou art she.






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