|
|
|
To My Worthy Friend Mr. Peter Lilly: On That Excellent Picture
Of His Majesty And The Duke Of York, Drawne By Him At Hampton-
Court by Richard Lovelace |
| |
|
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 cures 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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
