Lucasta, Taking the Waters at Tunbridge
Yee happy floods! that now must passeThe sacred conduicts of her wombe,Smooth and transparent as your face,When you are deafe, and windes are dumbe.
Be proud! and if your waters beFoul'd with a counterfeyted teare,Or some false sigh hath stained yee,Haste, and be purified there.
And when her rosie gates y'have trac'd,Continue yet some Orient wet,'Till, turn'd into a gemme, y'are plac'dLike diamonds with rubies set.
Yee drops, that dew th' Arabian bowers,Tell me, did you e're smell or viewOn any leafe of all your flowersSoe sweet a sent, so rich a hiew?
But as through th' Organs of her breathYou trickle wantonly, beware:Ambitious Seas in their just deathAs well as Lovers, must have share.
And see! you boyle as well as I;You, that to coole her did aspire,Now troubled and neglected lye,Nor can your selves quench your owne fire.
Yet still be happy in the thought,That in so small a time as this,Through all the Heavens you were broughtOf Vertue, Honour, Love and Blisse.
Words in this poem
- passe a.
- Past; gone by; hence, past one's prime; worn; faded; as, a passée belle. Ld. Lytton. [F.]
- gemme v. t.
- To put forth in the form of buds.
- wantonly adv.
- In a wanton manner; without regularity or restraint; loosely; sportively; gayly; playfully; recklessly; lasciviously.
- beware v. t.
- To avoid; to take care of; to have a care for.
- aspire v. t.
- To aspire to; to long for; to try to reach; to mount to.
- honour n.
- Esteem due or paid to worth; high estimation; respect; consideration; reverence; veneration; manifestation of respect or reverence. [OE. honor, honour, onour, onur, OF. honor, onor, honur, onur, honour, onour, F. honneur, fr. L. honor, honos.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Lucasta, Taking the Waters at Tunbridge is in the public domain. This text is taken from Lucasta, Project Gutenberg ebook #703; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Richard Lovelace, Lucasta, Taking the Waters at Tunbridge, in Lucasta (1649), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #703, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/lovelace-lucasta/lucasta-taking-the-waters-at-tunbridge.html, id L12998.
Form and metre
Lucasta, Taking the Waters at Tunbridge is 28 lines in 7 stanzas of 4 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABAB, complete in 5 of its 7 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%). 92% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.2 syllables. 3 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 29% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 -A-A passe · wombeA · face · dumbeA
- 2 ABAB beA · teareB · yeeA · thereB
- 3 ABAB trac'dA · wetB · plac'dA · setB
- 4 ABAB bowersA · viewB · flowersA · hiewB
- 5 ABAB breathA · bewareB · deathA · shareB
- 6 ABAB iA · aspireB · lyeA · fireB
- 7 A-A- thoughtA · this · broughtA · blisse
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Yee happy floods! that now must passe | 9 | ·/˘·····/ |
| The sacred conduicts of her wombe, | 9 | ·/˘˘····· |
| Smooth and transparent as your face, | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| When you are deafe, and windes are dumbe. | 8 | ········ |
| Be proud! and if your waters be | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Foul'd with a counterfeyted teare, | 8 | ········ |
| Or some false sigh hath stained yee, | 7 | ······· |
| Haste, and be purified there. | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| And when her rosie gates y'have trac'd, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| Continue yet some Orient wet, | 9 | ˘/˘··/˘·· |
| 'Till, turn'd into a gemme, y'are plac'd | 8 | ········ |
| Like diamonds with rubies set. | 7 | ·/˘·/˘· |
| Yee drops, that dew th' Arabian bowers, | 10 | ····˘/˘˘/˘ |
| Tell me, did you e're smell or view | 8 | ········ |
| On any leafe of all your flowers | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| Soe sweet a sent, so rich a hiew? | 8 | ········ |
| But as through th' Organs of her breath | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| You trickle wantonly, beware: | 8 | ·/˘/˘˘˘/ |
| Ambitious Seas in their just death | 8 | ˘/˘····· |
| As well as Lovers, must have share. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And see! you boyle as well as I; | 8 | ········ |
| You, that to coole her did aspire, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Now troubled and neglected lye, | 9 | ·/˘˘·˘/˘· |
| Nor can your selves quench your owne fire. | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Yet still be happy in the thought, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| That in so small a time as this, | 8 | ········ |
| Through all the Heavens you were brought | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Of Vertue, Honour, Love and Blisse. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
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