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FLORA GAVE ME FAIREST FLOWERS.

FLORA gave me fairest flowers,

None so fair in Flora's treasure;

These I placed on Phillis' bowers,

She was pleased, and she my pleasure:
Smiling meadows seem to say,

Come ye wantons here to play.

WILBYE-1598.

CONTENT.

THERE is a jewel which no Indian mines can buy,
No chemic art can counterfeit;

It makes men rich in greatest poverty;

Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold,
The homely whistle to sweet music's strain;
Seldom it comes, to few from heaven sent,
That much in little, all in naught-Content.

WILBYE-1609.

TO SHORTEN WINTER'S SADNESS.

To shorten winter's sadness,

See where the nymphs with gladness,
Disguised all are coming,

Right wantonly a-mumming.

Whilst youthful sports are lasting,
To feasting turn our fasting;
With revels and with wassals,
Make grief and care our vassals.

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The above is from "Ballets and Madrigals to five voyces, by THOMAS WEELKES, Organist of the College of Winchester."Lond. 1598. 4to. Este.

IN PRIDE OF MAY.

IN pride of May, the fields are gay,
The birds do sweetly sing;

So nature would, that all things should,
With joy begin the spring.

Then Lady dear, do you appear
In beauty like the spring;
I will dare say, the birds that day
More cheerfully will sing.

WEELKES-1598.

COLD WINTER'S ICE IS FLED.

COLD winter's ice is fled and gone,

And summer brags on every tree;
The red-breast peeps amidst the throng

Of wood-born birds, that wanton be;
Each one forgets what they have been,
And so doth Phillis, summer's queen.

WEELKES-1600.

WHY ARE YOU, LADIES, STAYING.

WHY are you, Ladies, staying,
And your Lords gone a-Maying?
Run apace and meet them,

And with your garlands greet them;
'Twere pity they should miss you,
For they will sweetly kiss you!

Hark! hark! I hear the dancing,
And a nimble morris prancing;
The bagpipe and the morris-bells,
That they are not far hence us tells;
Come let us all go thither,

And dance like friends together.

WEELKES-1600.

THE WINE THAT I SO DEARLY GOT.

THE wine that I so dearly got,

Sweetly sipping, mine eyes hath blear'd;
And the more I am barr'd the pot,
The more to drink my thirst is steer'd;
But since thereby my heart is cheer'd,
Maugre ill luck, and spiteful slanders,
Mine eyes shall not be my commanders;
For I maintain, and ever shall,
Better the windows hide the dangers,

Than to spoil both the house and all.

From Madrigalles to 5 and 6 voices; translated out of sundrie Italian authors.-Yonge, London: 1597. 4to. Este.

ALISON'S RECREATIONS.

THERE IS A GARDEN IN HER FACE.

THERE is a garden in her face,

Where roses and white lilies grow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow;
There cherries grow that none may buy,
Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry.

Those cherries fairly do inclose
Of orient pearl a double row,

Which when her lovely laughter shows,

They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow; Yet them no peer nor prince may buy,

Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry.

Her

eyes

like angels watch them still; Her brows like bended bows do stand, Threatening with piercing frowns to kill

All that approach with eye or hand These sacred cherries to come nigh, Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry.

O HEAVY HEART.

O heavy heart, what harms are hid,
Thy help is hurt, thy hap is hard;
If thou shouldst break, as God forbid,

Then should desert want his reward:
Hope well to have, hate not sweet thought,
Foul cruel storms fair calms have brought;

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After sharp showers the sun shines fair,
Hope comes likewise after despair.

In hope, a king doth go to war;
In hope, a lover lives full long;
In hope, a merchant sails full far;
In hope, just men do suffer wrong;
In hope, the ploughman sows his seed;
Thus hope helps thousands at their need:
Then faint not heart, among the rest,
Whatever chance, hope thou the best.

Though wit bids will blow the retreat,
Will cannot work as wit would wish;
When that the roach doth taste the bait,
Too late to warn the hungry fish;
When cities burn on fiery flame,

Great rivers scarce may quench the same;
If will and fancy be agreed,

Too late for wit to bid take heed.

But yet it seems a foolish drift,

To follow will and leave the wit;
The wanton horse that runs too swift,

May well be stay'd upon the bit;

But check a horse amid his race,
And out of doubt you mar his pace;

Though wit and reason doth men teach

Never to climb above their reach.

The two foregoing Pieces are from "An Houre's Recreation in Musicke, by RICH. ALISON."-1606.

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