I. <br />This Queen of Prey (now prey to you), <br /> Fast to that pirch of ivory <br />In silver chaines and silken clue, <br /> Hath now made full thy victory: <br /> <br /> II. <br />The swelling admirall of the dread <br /> Cold deepe, burnt in thy flames, oh faire! <br />Wast not enough, but thou must lead <br /> Bound, too, the Princesse of the aire? <br /> <br /> III. <br />Unarm'd of wings and scaly oare, <br /> Unhappy crawler on the land, <br />To what heav'n fly'st? div'st to what shoare, <br /> That her brave eyes do not command? <br /> <br /> IV. <br />Ascend the chariot of the Sun <br /> From her bright pow'r to shelter thee: <br />Her captive (foole) outgases him; <br /> Ah, what lost wretches then are we! <br /> <br /> V. <br />Now, proud usurpers on the right <br /> Of sacred beauty, heare your dombe; <br />Recant your sex, your mastry, might; <br /> Lower you cannot be or'ecome: <br /> <br /> VI. <br />Repent, ye er'e nam'd he or head, <br /> For y' are in falcon's monarchy, <br />And in that just dominion bred, <br /> In which the nobler is the shee.<br /><br />Richard Lovelace<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-lady-with-a-falcon-on-her-fist-to-the-honourab/
