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Richard Lovelace.
 
  
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Princesse LÖYSA drawing.
  
I SAW a little Diety,
 Minerva in Epitomy, 
 Whom Venus at first blush, surpris'd, 
 Tooke for her winged wagge disguis'd ; 
 But viewing then whereas she made 
 Not a distrest, but lively shade 
 Of Eccho whom he had betrayd, 
 Now wanton, and ith' coole oth' Sunne 
 With her delight a hunting gone ; 
 And thousands more, whom he had slaine, 
 To live, and love, belov'd againe : 
 Ah this is true Divinity ! 
 I will un-God that Toye cri'd she ? 
 Then markt she Syrinx running fast 
 To Pans imbraces, with the haste 
 Shee fled him once, whose reede-pipe rent 
 He finds now a new Instrument. 
 Theseus return'd, invokes the Ayre 
 And windes, then wafts his faire ; 
 Whilst Ariadne ravish't stood 
 Halfe in his armes, halfe in the flood. 
 
     Proud Anaxarete doth fall 
 At Iphis feete, who smiles of all : 
 And he (whilst she his curles doth deck) 
 Hangs no where now, but on her neck. 
     Here Phoebus with a beame untombes 
     Long-hid Leucothoë, and dombes 
 Her father there ; Daphne the faire 
 Knowes now no bayes but round her haire ; 
 And to Apollo and his Sons 
 Who pay him their due Orisons, 
 Bequeaths her Lawrell-robe, that flame 
 Contemnes, Thunder and evill Fame. 
 
     There kneel'd Adonis fresh as spring, 
 Gaye as his youth, now offering 
 Her selfe those joyes with voice and hand, 
 Which first he could not understand. 
 
     Transfixed Venus stood amas'd, 
 Full of the Boye and Love, she gaz'd 
 And in imbraces seemed more 
 Sencelesse and colde, then he before. 
 Uselesse Childe !   In vaine (said she) 
 You beare that fond Artillerie : 
 See heere a Pow'r above the slow 
 Weake execution of thy bow. 
 
     So said, she riv'd the Wood in two, 
 Unedged all his Arrowes too, 
 And with the string their feathers bound 
 To that part whence we have our wound. 
 
 See, see ! the darts by which we burn'd 
 Are bright Löysa's pencills turn'd ; 
 With which she now enliveth more 
 Beauties, than they destroy'd before.
  
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Lucas Cranach, the Elder.  
The Judgment of Paris. c.1528. 
 
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Source: 
Lovelace, Richard.    The Poems of Richard Lovelace. 
London: Unit Library, Ltd., 1904.    26-27.
  
  
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