And in this mood, charg'd with despair, With vapour'd sighs I dim the air, And to the gods make this request— I may have truce with this strange strife, And bring my soul to better rest. From the "Phoenix Nest," edition 1593. THE DAWN OF LOVE. THE dew drops that at first of day Although it shimmereth in the ray, And trembleth at the zephyr's power, Shows not so fair and pleasantly As love that bursts from beauty's eye. The little bird that clear doth sing Is not so pleasant to mine ear As love that scantly speaks for fear. The rose when first it doth prepare ENGLAND'S HELICON. Is not so fair as love that speaks In unbid blush on beauty's cheeks. The pains of war when streams of blood 47 From the old scarce pastoral poem of "The Shepheardes' Garland," printed by Jaggard, 1597. COME AWAY, COME SWEET LOVE. COME away, come sweet love! The golden morning breaks; All the earth, all the air, Of love and pleasure speaks; And mix our souls in mutual bliss: Come away, come sweet love! While the sun, from his sphere Making all the shadows fly, To entertain the stealth of love: Thither, sweet love, let us hie, Flying, dying in desire, Wing'd with sweet hopes, and heavenly fire. Come away, come sweet love! Do not in vain adorn Beauty's grace, that should arise Like to the naked morn; Lilies on the river side, And fair Cyprian flowers newly born, Ask no beauties but their own: Ornament is nurse of pride, Flying, dying in desire, Wing'd with sweet hopes, and heavenly pride. The foregoing song is from "England's Helicon." In a manuscript collection of airs in our possession, written above two hundred years ago, the music of the above song is to be found, taken, we presume, either from "England's Helicon," or the same source from whence it had been originally obtained. wwwwwww HER TRIUMPH. SEE the chariot at hand here of love, Wherein my lady rideth! Each that draws is a swan or a dove, And well the car love guideth. And enamour'd do wish, so they might That they still were to run by her side, Thro' swords, thro' seas, whither she would ride. Do but look on her eyes, they do light All that love's world compriseth! Do but look on her, it is bright As love's star when it riseth! And from her arch'd brows, such a grace As alone there triumphs to the life All the gain, all the good of the elements' strife. Have you seen but a bright lily grow, Before rude hands have touch'd it? Have mark'd but the fall of the snow, you Before the soil hath smutch'd it? Have you felt the wool of the beaver, Or swan's down ever? Or have smell'd of the bud o' the briar? Or the 'nard in the fire? Or have tasted the bag of the bee? O so white! O so soft! O so sweet is she! F 49 THE SWEET NEGLECT. STILL to be neat, still to be dress'd, Though art's hid causes are not found, Give me a look, give me a face, Such sweet neglect more taketh me, They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. The two foregoing Pieces are by BEN JOHNSON, the friend and contemporary of Shakespeare. The last is from his "Silent Woman," first acted in 1609. He was born 1574, died 1657. wwwwwww WOMAN'S INCONSTANCY. I lov'd thee once, I'll love no more, What reason I should be the same? |