Of thy streets which thou hold'st best, And most frequent of the rest, Happy Mich-Parke, of the year, On the fourth of August there, Let thy maids from Flora's bowers, With their choice and daintiest flowers Deck thee up, and from their store With brave garlands crown that door. The old man passing by that way, To his son in time shall say, "There was that lady born, which long To after ages shall be sung;" Who unawares being passed by, Back to that house shall cast his eye, And strike the slave forever dumb. CHRISTOPHER MARLOW. 1563-1593. [“ England's Helicon." 1600.] THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE. COME live with me, and be my love, And we will sit upon the rocks, And I will make thee beds of roses, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle A gown made of the finest wool, A belt of straw, and ivy buds, CHRISTOPHER MARLOW. And if these pleasures may thee move, The shepherd swains shall dance and sing EDWARD VERE. Fair Cynthia's silver light, So bright my nymph doth shine With this there is a red Exceeds the damask rose; Which in her cheeks is spread, In sky there is no star, But she surmounts it far. When Phoebus from the bed Of Thetis doth arise, The morning blushing red, In fair carnation-wise; He shows in my nymph's face, As queen of every grace. This pleasant lily white, This sweet fair Dea spread, These sunbeams in mine eye, |