Night. To Lucasta



Night! loathed jaylor of the lock'd up sun,
  And tyrant-turnkey on committed day,
Bright eyes lye fettered in thy dungeon,
  And Heaven it self doth thy dark wards obey.
    Thou dost arise our living hell;
    With thee grones, terrors, furies dwell;
      Until LUCASTA doth awake,
And with her beams these heavy chaines off shake.

Behold! with opening her almighty lid,
Bright eyes break rowling, and with lustre spread,
  And captive day his chariot mounted is;
    Night to her proper hell is beat,
    And screwed to her ebon seat;
Till th' Earth with play oppressed lies,
And drawes again the curtains of her eyes.

But, bondslave, I know neither day nor night;
  Whether she murth'ring sleep, or saving wake;
Now broyl'd ith' zone of her reflected light,
  Then frose, my isicles, not sinews shake.
    Smile then, new Nature, your soft blast
    Doth melt our ice, and fires waste;
Whil'st the scorch'd shiv'ring world new born
Now feels it all the day one rising morn.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

51 sec read
52

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABABCCDD XXXEEFF GDGDXXHH
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 964
Words 165
Stanzas 3
Stanza Lengths 8, 7, 8

Richard Lovelace

Richard Lovelace was an English poet more…

All Richard Lovelace poems | Richard Lovelace Books

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