 on that excellent Picture of his Majesty, and the Duke Of Yorke, drawne by him at Hampton-Court. | |||
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SEE ! what a clouded Majesty ! and eyes
Whose glory through their mist doth brighter rise ! See ! what an humble bravery doth shine, And griefe triumphant breaking through each line How it commands the face ! so sweet a scorne Never did happy misery adorne ! So sacred a contempt, that others show To this, (oth' height of all the wheele) below ; That mightiest Monarchs by this shaded booke May coppy out their proudest, richest looke. Whilst the true Eaglet this quick luster spies, And by his Sun's enlightens his owne eyes ; He cares his cares, his burthen feeles, then streight Joyes that so lightly he can beare such weight ; Whilst either eithers passion doth borrow, And both doe grieve the same victorious sorrow. These, my best Lilly with so bold a spirit And soft a grace, as if thou didst inherit For that time all their greatnesse, and didst draw With those brave eyes your Royal Sitters saw. Not as of old, when a rough hand did speake A strong Aspect, and a faire face, a weake ; When only a black beard cried Villaine, and By Hieroglyphicks we could understand ; When Chrystall typified in a white spot, And the bright Ruby was but one red blot ; Thou dost the things Orientally the same Not only paintst its colour, but its Flame : Thou sorrow canst designe without a teare, And with the Man his very Hope or Feare ; So that th' amazed world shall henceforth finde None but my Lilly ever drew a Minde. | 
National Portrait Gallery, London. |
Source:
Lovelace, Richard. The Poems of Richard Lovelace.
London: Unit Library, Ltd., 1904. 51-52.
 | to Works of Richard Lovelace |
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