ver live,
Plac't in a christal temple, rear'd to be
The Embleme of her thoughts integrity;
And on the porch thy name insculpt, my friend,
Whose love, like to the flame, can know no end.
The marble step that to the alter brings
The hallowed priests with their clean offerings,
Shall hold their names that humbly crave to be
Votaries to th' shrine, and grateful friends to thee.
So shal we live (although our offrings prove
Meane to the world) for ever by thy love.
Tho. Rawlins.<11.1>

<11.1> A well known dramatist and poet. These lines are not
in Singer's reprint.

TO MY DEAR BROTHER, COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE.

Ile doe my nothing too, and try
To dabble to thy memory.
Not that I offer to thy name
Encomiums of thy lasting fame.
Those by the landed have been writ:
Mine's but a yonger-brother wit;
A wit that's hudled up in scarres,
Borne like my rough selfe in the warres;
And as a Squire in the fight
Serves only to attend the Knight,
So 'tis my glory in this field,
Where others act, to beare thy shield.
Dudley Lovelace, Capt.<12.1>

<12.1> The youngest brother of the poet. Besides the present
lines, and some to be found in the posthumous volume, of which
he was the editor, this gentleman contributed the following
commendatory poem to AYRES AND DIALOGUES [by Thomas Stanley Esq.]
set by John Gamble, 1656. The verses themselves have little merit;
and the only object which I had in introducing them, was to add
to the completeness of the present edition:--

TO MY MUCH HONORED COZEN, MR. STANLEY,
UPON HIS POEMS SET BY MR. JOHN GAMBLE.

I.
Enough, enough of orbs and spheres,
Reach me a trumpet or a drum,
To sound sharp synnets in your ears,
And beat a deep encomium.

II.
I know not th' Eight Intelligence:
Those that do understand it, pray
Let them step hither, and from thence
Speak what they all do sing or say:

III.
Nor what your diapasons are,
Your sympathies and symphonies;
To me they seem as distant farre
As whence they take their infant rise.

IV.
But I've a grateful heart can ring
A peale of ordnance to your praise,
And volleys of small plaudits bring
To clowd a crown about your baies.

V.
Though laurel is thought thunder free,
That sto