Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CALLING LUCASTA FROM HER RETIREMENT, by RICHARD LOVELACE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CALLING LUCASTA FROM HER RETIREMENT, by             Poem Explanation     Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: From the dire monument of thy black room
Last Line: What they not feel must not be said to know.


FROM the dire monument of thy black room,
Where now that vestal flame thou dost entomb,
As in the inmost cell of all earth's womb,

Sacred Lucasta, like the pow'rful ray
Of heavenly truth, pass this Cimmerian way,
Whilst all the standards of your beams display.

Arise, and climb our whitest, highest hill;
There your sad thoughts with joy and wonder fill,
And see seas calm as earth, earth as your will.

Behold how lightning like a taper flies,
And gilds your chari't, but ashamed dies,
Seeing itself outglori'd by your eyes.

Threat'ning and boist'rous tempests gently bow,
And to your steps part in soft paths, when now
There nowhere hangs a cloud, but on your brow;

No show'rs but 'twixt your lids, nor gelid snow,
But what your whiter, chaster breast doth owe,
Whilst winds in chains colder your sorrow blow.

Shrill trumpets now do only sound to eat,
Artillery hath loaden ev'ry dish with meat,
And drums at ev'ry health alarums beat.

All things, Lucasta! but, Lucasta! call;
Trees borrow tongues, waters in accents fall,
The air doth sing, and fire 's musical.

Awake from the dead vault in which you dwell,
All 's loyal here, except your thoughts rebel,
Which, so let loose, often their gen'ral quell.

See! she obeys! by all obeyed thus;
No storms, heats, colds, no souls contentious,
Nor civil war is found---I mean, to us.

Lovers and angels, though in heav'n they show
And see the woes and discords here below,
What they not feel must not be said to know.





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