The first of these songs was written by Lovelace while he was in prison for having presented a petition to the House of Commons asking that King Charles might be restored to the throne.

    TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON

    “When love with unconfined wings
        Hovers within my gates,
    And my divine Althea brings
        To whisper at the grates;
    When I lye tangled in her haire,
        And fettered to her eye,
    The gods, that wanton in the aire,
        Know no such liberty.
    . . . . . 
    “When (like committed linnets) I
        With shriller throat shall sing
    The sweetness, mercy, majesty,
        And glories of my King. 
    When I shall voyce aloud, how good
        He is, how great should be,
    Enlarged winds, that curle the flood,
        Know no such liberty.

    “Stone walls do not a prison make,
        Nor iron bars a cage;
    Mindes innocent and quiet take
        That for an hermitage;
    If I have freedome in my love,
        And in my soule am free,
    Angels alone that soar above
        Enjoy such liberty.”

    TO LUCASTA GOING TO THE WARRES

    “Tell me not (sweet) I am unkinde,
        That from the nunnerie
    Of thy chaste heart and quiet minde
        To warre and armes I flie.

    “True:  a new Mistresse now I chase,
        The first foe in the field,
    And with a stronger faith embrace
        A sword, a horse, a shield.

    “Yet this inconstancy is such
        As you, too, shall adore;
    I could not love thee, dear, so much,
        Lov’d I not Honour more.”

James Graham, Marquis of Montrose, was another cavalier poet whose fine, sad story you will read in history.  He loved his King and fought and suffered for him, and when he heard that he was dead he drew his sword and wrote a poem with its point: 

    “Great, Good, and Just, could I but rate
    My grief, and thy too rigid fate,
    I’d weep the world in such a strain
    As it should deluge once again: 
    But since thy loud-tongued blood demands supplies
    More from Briareus’ hands than Argus’ eyes,
    I’ll sing thy obsequies with trumpet sounds
    And write thine epitaph in blood and wounds.”

He wrote, too, a famous song known as Montrose’s Love-song.  Here it is:—­

    “My dear and only love, I pray
        This noble world of thee,
    Be governed by no other sway
        But purest monarchie.

    “For if confusion have a part
        Which vertuous souls abhore,
    And hold a synod in thy heart,
        I’ll never love thee more.

    “Like Alexander I will reign,
        And I will reign alone,
    My thoughts shall evermore disdain
        A rival on my throne.

    “He either fears his fate too much
        Or his deserts are small,
    That puts it not unto the touch,
        To win or lose it all.