To Ellinda, Vpon His Late Recovery, a Paradox
How I grieve that I am well!All my health was in my sicknes,Go then, Destiny, and tell,Very death is in this quicknes.
Such a fate rules over me,That I glory when I languish,And do blesse the remedy,That doth feed, not quench my anguish.
'Twas a gentle warmth that ceas'dIn the vizard of a feavor;But I feare now I am eas'dAll the flames, since I must leave her.
Joyes, though witherd, circled me,When unto her voice inuredLike those who, by harmony,Only can be throughly cured.
Sweet, sure, was that malady,Whilst the pleasant angel hover'd,Which ceasing they are all, as I,Angry that they are recover'd.
And as men in hospitals,That are maim'd, are lodg'd and dined;But when once their danger fals,Ah th' are healed to be pined!
Fainting so, I might beforeSometime have the leave to hand her,But lusty, am beat out of dore,And for Love compell'd to wander.
Words in this poem
- languish v. i.
- To cause to dr Shak.
- vizard n.
- A mask; a visor. [See Visor.]
- circled a.
- Having the form of a circle; round.
- malady n.
- Any disease of the human body; a distemper, disorder, or indisposition, proceeding from impaired, defective, or morbid organic functions; especially, a lingering or deep-seated disorder. [F. maladie, fr. malade ill, sick, OF. also, malabde, fr. L. male habitus, i. e., ill-kept, not in good condition. See Malice, and Habit.]
- angry a.
- Troublesome; vexatious; rigorous. [See Anger.]
- sometime adv.
- At a past time indefinitely referred to; once; formerly.
- dore v. t.
- One who does; one performs or executes; one who is wont and ready to act; an actor; an agent. [From Do, v. t. & i.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To Ellinda, Vpon His Late Recovery, a Paradox 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, To Ellinda, Vpon His Late Recovery, a Paradox, in Lucasta (1649), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #703, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/lovelace-lucasta/to-ellinda-vpon-his-late-recovery-a-paradox.html, id L13006.
Form and metre
To Ellinda, Vpon His Late Recovery, a Paradox is 28 lines in 7 stanzas of 4 lines each. The commonest rhyme scheme is ABAB, in 2 of the 7 stanzas; the rest vary or could not be confirmed. The metre is trochaic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%). 94% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.3 syllables. 9 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 14% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in trochaic 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 ABAB wellA · sicknesB · tellA · quicknesB
- 2 -A-A me · languishA · remedy · anguishA
- 4 -A-A me · inuredA · harmony · curedA
- 5 -A-A malady · hover'dA · i · recover'dA
- 6 ABAB hospitalsA · dinedB · falsA · pinedB
- 7 A-A- beforeA · her · doreA · wander
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 trochaic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| How I grieve that I am well! | 7 | ······· |
| All my health was in my sicknes, | 7 | ······· |
| Go then, Destiny, and tell, | 7 | ··/˘˘·· |
| Very death is in this quicknes. | 7 | /˘····· |
| Such a fate rules over me, | 7 | ······· |
| That I glory when I languish, | 8 | ··/˘··/˘ |
| And do blesse the remedy, | 7 | ····/˘˘ |
| That doth feed, not quench my anguish. | 8 | ······/˘ |
| 'Twas a gentle warmth that ceas'd | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| In the vizard of a feavor; | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| But I feare now I am eas'd | 7 | ······· |
| All the flames, since I must leave her. | 8 | ········ |
| Joyes, though witherd, circled me, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| When unto her voice inured | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Like those who, by harmony, | 7 | ····/˘˘ |
| Only can be throughly cured. | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| Sweet, sure, was that malady, | 7 | ····/˘˘ |
| Whilst the pleasant angel hover'd, | 8 | ··/˘/˘/˘ |
| Which ceasing they are all, as I, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Angry that they are recover'd. | 8 | /˘···˘/˘ |
| And as men in hospitals, | 7 | ····/·˘ |
| That are maim'd, are lodg'd and dined; | 7 | ······· |
| But when once their danger fals, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Ah th' are healed to be pined! | 6 | ······ |
| Fainting so, I might before | 7 | /˘····· |
| Sometime have the leave to hand her, | 8 | /······· |
| But lusty, am beat out of dore, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| And for Love compell'd to wander. | 8 | ···˘/·/˘ |
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