A Black Patch On Lucasta's Face
          By Richard Lovelace

          Dull as I was, to think that a court fly
                    Presumed so near her eye,
                    When 'twas th' industrious bee
          Mistook her glorious face for paradise;
          To sum up all his chemistry of spice,
              With a brave pride and honor led,
              Near both her suns he makes his bed,
          And though a spark struggles to rise as red;
                    Then emulates the gay
                        Daughter of day,
                Acts the romantic phoenix' fate;
          When now, with all his sweets laid out in state,
                Lucasta scatters but one heat,
          And all the aromatic pills do sweat,
          And gums calcined, themselves to powder beat;
                    Which a fresh gale of air
                    Conveys into her hair;
                    Then chaste he's set on fire,
          And in these holy flames doth glad expire;
                  And that black marble tablet there
              So near her either sphere
                  Was placed; nor foil, nor ornament,
          But the sweet little bee's large monument.

          (1659)


          to Works of Richard Lovelace

          Created by Anniina Jokinen on January 16, 1997.