Come, Sleep! and with thy sweet deceiving
Lock me in delight awhile;
Let some pleasing dreams beguile
All my fancies, that from thence
I may feel an influence
All my powers of care bereaving!
Though but a shadow, but a sliding,
Let me know some little joy!
We that suffer long annoy
Are contented with a thought
Through an idle fancy wrought:
O, let my joys have some abiding!
May I find a woman fair
And her mind as clear as air!
If her beauty go alone,
'Tis to me as if 'twere none.
May I find a woman rich,
And not of too high a pitch!
If that pride should cause disdain,
Tell me, Lover! where's thy gain?
May I find a woman wise,
And her falsehood not disguise!
Hath she wit as she hath will,
Double-arm'd she is to ill.
May I find a woman kind,
And not wavering like the wind!
How should I call that love mine
When 'tis his, and his, and thine?
May I find a woman true!
There is beauty's fairest hue :
There is beauty, love, and wit.
Happy he can compass it!
WORLD-GLORY'S WOOING SONG.
Love is the blossom where there blows
Every thing that lives or grows :
Love doth make the heavens to move,
And the sun doth burn in love;
Love the strong and weak doth yoke,
And makes the ivy climb the oak;
Under whose shadow lions wild,
Soften'd by Love, grow tame and mild;
Love no medicine can appease ;
He burns the fishes in the seas;
Not all the skill his wounds can staunch; Not all the seas his fire can quench; Love did make the bloody spear
Once a leafy coat to wear,
Whilst in his leaves there shrouded lay Sweet birds for love that sing and play : And of all Love's joyful frame
I the bud and blossom am.
Only bend thy knee to me!
Thy wooing shall thy winning be.
See! see the flowers that below
Now as fresh as morning blow!
And, of all, the virgin Rose
That as bright Aurora shows:
How they all unleafed die,
Losing their virginity,
Like unto a summer shade,
But now born, and now they fade.
Every thing doth pass away :
There is danger in delay.
Come! come gather then the Rose !
Gather it, or it you lose!
All the sand of Tagus' shore
In my bosom casts his ore;
All the valleys' swimming corn
To my house is yearly borne ;
Every grape of every vine
Is gladly bruized to make me wine;
While ten thousand kings as proud
To carry up my train have bow'd,
And a world of ladies send me
In my chambers to attend me :
All the stars in heaven that shine
And ten thousand more are mine.
Only bend thy knee to me!
Thy wooing shall thy winning be.
Glories, pleasures, pomps, delights, and ease Can but please
The outward senses when the mind
Is or untroubled or by peace refined.
Crowns may flourish and decay;
Beauties shine, but fade away;
Youth may revel, yet it must
Lie down in a bed of dust;
Earthly honours flow and waste :
Time alone doth change and last.
Sorrows mingled with contents prepare
Rest for care;
Love only reigns in death, though art
Can find no comfort for a broken heart.
O, no more, no more! too late
Sighs are spent: the burning tapers
Of a life as chaste as Fate,
Pure as are unwritten papers,
Are burn'd out: no heat, no light
Now remains; 'tis ever night.
Love is dead let lovers' eyes
Lock'd in endless dreams,
The extreme of all extremes,
Ope no more! for now Love dies :
Now Love dies, implying
Love's martyrs must be ever ever dying.
Fly hence, Shadows! that do keep
Watchful sorrows charm'd in sleep.
Though the eyes be overtaken,
Yet the heart doth ever waken
Thoughts chain'd up in busy snares
Of continual woes and cares :
Love and griefs are so express'd
As they rather sigh than rest.
Fly hence, Shadows! that do keep
Watchful sorrows charm'd in sleep!
COMFORTS LASTING.
Comforts lasting, loves increasing,
Like soft hours, never ceasing;
Plenty's pleasure, peace complying,
Without jars or tongues envỳing;
Hearts by holy union wedded,
More than theirs by custom bedded;
Fruitful issues; life so graced
Not by age to be defaced,
Budding as the year ensu'th,
Every Spring another youth:
All that thought can add beside,
Crown this bridegroom and this bride!
MATIN SONG.
Rise, Lady Mistress! rise!
The night hath tedious been ;
No sleep hath fallen into mine eyes,
Nor slumbers made me sin.
Is not She a saint then, say!
Thought of whom keeps sin away?
Rise Madam! rise, and give me light,
Whom darkness still will cover
And ignorance, more dark than night,
Till thou smile on thy lover.
All want day till thy beauty rise:
For the grey morn breaks from thine eyes.
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