Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PRINCESS LOUISA DRAWING, by RICHARD LOVELACE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: I saw a little deity Last Line: Beauties than they destroy'd before. | ||||||||
I SAW a little deity, Minerva in epitome, Whom Venus, at first blush, surpris'd, Took for her winged wag disguis'd; But viewing then whereas she made Not a distress'd, but lively shade Of Echo, whom he had betray'd, Now wanton, and i' th' cool o' th' sun With her delight a-hunting gone; And thousands more, whom he had slain, To live, and love, belov'd again: Ah, this is true divinity! I will ungod that toy! cri'd she; Then mark'd the Syrinx running fast To Pan's embraces, with the haste She fled him once, whose reed-pipe rent, He finds now a new instrument. Theseus, return'd, invokes the air And winds, then wafts his fair; Whilst Ariadne ravish'd stood Half in his arms, half in the flood. Proud Anaxarete doth fall At Iphis' feet, who smiles of all; And he, whilst she his curls doth deck, Hangs nowhere now but on her neck. Here Phœbus with a beam untombs Long-hid Leucothoë, and dooms Her father there; Daphne the fair Knows now no bays but round her hair; And to Apollo and his sons Who pay him their due orisons, Bequeaths her laurel-robe, that flame Contemns, thunder and evil fame. There kneel'd Adonis fresh as Spring, Gay as his youth, now offering Herself those joys with voice and hand, Which first he could not understand. Transfixed Venus stood amaz'd, Full of the boy and love she gaz'd; And in embraces seemed more Senseless and cold than he before. Useless child! In vain, said she, You bear that fond artillery: See here a pow'r above the slow Weak execution of thy bow. So said, she riv'd the wood in two, Unedged all his arrows too, And with the string their feathers bound To that part whence we have our wound. See, see! the darts by which we burn'd Are bright Louisa's pencils turn'd; With which she now enliveth more Beauties than they destroy'd before. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LA BELLA BONA ROBA by RICHARD LOVELACE THE GRASSHOPPER; TO MY NOBLE FRIEND MR. CHARLES COTTON by RICHARD LOVELACE THE SCRUTINY; SONG by RICHARD LOVELACE TO ALTHEA, FROM PRISON by RICHARD LOVELACE TO AMARANTHA, THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVEL HER HAIR by RICHARD LOVELACE TO LUCASTA, [ON] GOING BEYOND THE SEAS by RICHARD LOVELACE TO LUCASTA, [ON] GOING TO THE WARS by RICHARD LOVELACE A BLACK PATCH ON LUCASTA'S FACE (1) by RICHARD LOVELACE A BLACK PATCH ON LUCASTA'S FACE (2) by RICHARD LOVELACE |
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