I. <br />You are deceiv'd; I sooner may, dull fair, <br />Seat a dark Moor in Cassiopea's chair, <br /> Or on the glow-worm's uselesse light <br /> Bestow the watching flames of night, <br /> Or give the rose's breath <br /> To executed death, <br /> Ere the bright hiew <br /> Of verse to you; <br />It is just Heaven on beauty stamps a fame, <br />And we, alas! its triumphs but proclaim. <br /> <br /> II. <br />What chains but are too light for me, should I <br />Say that Lucasta in strange arms could lie? <br /> Or that Castara were impure; <br /> Or Saccarisa's faith unsure? <br /> That Chloris' love, as hair, <br /> Embrac'd each en'mies air; <br /> That all their good <br /> Ran in their blood? <br />'Tis the same wrong th' unworthy to inthrone, <br />As from her proper sphere t' have vertue thrown. <br /> <br /> III. <br />That strange force on the ignoble hath renown; <br />As AURUM FULMINANS, it blows vice down. <br /> 'Twere better (heavy one) to crawl <br /> Forgot, then raised, trod on [to] fall. <br /> All your defections now <br /> Are not writ on your brow; <br /> Odes to faults give <br /> A shame must live. <br />When a fat mist we view, we coughing run; <br />But, that once meteor drawn, all cry: undone. <br /> <br /> IV. <br />How bright the fair Paulina did appear, <br />When hid in jewels she did seem a star! <br /> But who could soberly behold <br /> A wicked owl in cloath of gold, <br /> Or the ridiculous Ape <br /> In sacred Vesta's shape? <br /> So doth agree <br /> Just praise with thee: <br />For since thy birth gave thee no beauty, know, <br />No poets pencil must or can do so.<br /><br />Richard Lovelace<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ode-6/