er day, knockt at my brest,
But I, alas! was not within.
My man, my ear, told me he came t' attest,
That without cause h'd boxed him,
And battered the windows of mine eyes,
And took my heart for one of's nunneries.

II.
I wondred at the outrage safe return'd,
And stormed at the base affront;
And by a friend of mine, bold faith, that burn'd,
I called him to a strict accompt.
He said that, by the law, the challeng'd might
Take the advantage both of arms and fight.

III.
Two darts of equal length and points he sent,
And nobly gave the choyce to me,
Which I not weigh'd, young and indifferent,
Now full of nought but victorie.
So we both met in one of's mother's groves,
The time, at the first murm'ring of her doves.

IV.
I stript myself naked all o're, as he:
For so I was best arm'd, when bare.
His first pass did my liver rase: yet I
Made home a falsify<74.1> too neer:
For when my arm to its true distance came,
I nothing touch'd but a fantastick flame.

V.
This, this is love we daily quarrel so,
An idle Don-Quichoterie:
We whip our selves with our own twisted wo,
And wound the ayre for a fly.
The only way t' undo this enemy
Is to laugh at the boy, and he will cry.

<74.1> "To falsify a thrust," says Phillips (WORLD OF WORDS,
ed. 1706, art. FALSIFY), "is to make a feigned pass." Lovelace
here employs the word as a substantive rather awkwardly; but
the meaning is, no doubt, the same.

CUPID FAR GONE.

I.
What, so beyond all madnesse is the elf,
Now he hath got out of himself!
His fatal enemy the Bee,
Nor his deceiv'd artillerie,
His shackles, nor the roses bough
Ne'r half so netled him, as he is now.

II.<75.1>
See! at's own mother he is offering;
His finger now fits any ring;
Old Cybele he would enjoy,
And now the girl, and now the boy.
He proffers Jove a back caresse,
And all his love in the antipodes.

III.
Jealous of his chast Psyche, raging he
Quarrels with<75.2> student Mercurie,
And with a proud submissive breath
Offers to change his darts with Death.
He strikes at the bright eye of day,
And Juno tumbles in her milky way.

IV.
The dear sweet secrets of the gods he tells,
And with loath'd hate lov'd heaven he swells;
Now, like a fury, he belies
M