Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, OF MY LADY ISABELLA PLAYING ON THE LUTE, by EDMUND WALLER



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

OF MY LADY ISABELLA PLAYING ON THE LUTE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Such moving sounds from such a careless touch
Last Line: His flaming rome, and as it burn'd, he play'd.
Subject(s): Lutes; Music & Musicians


Such moving sounds from such a careless touch,
So unconcern'd her selfe, and we so much!
What Arts is this, that with so little pains
Transports us thus, and o'r our spirit raigns?
The trembling strings about her fingers croud,
And tell their joy for every kiss aloud;
Small force there needs to make them tremble so;
Touch'd by that hand, who would not tremble too?
Here Love takes stand, and while she charms the care,
Empties his Quiver on the listning Deere:
Musick so softens and disarms the mind,
That not an Arrow does resistance find;
Thus the faire Tyrant celebrates the prize,
And acts her self the triumph of her eyes.
So Nero once, with Harp in hand, survey'd
His flaming Rome, and as it burn'd, he play'd.








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