SONG OF NUNS.

FLY, my soul! what hangs upon
Thy drooping wings,

And weighs them down

With love of gaudy mortal things?

The Sun is now i' the east; each shade,
As he doth rise,

Is shorter made

That earth may lessen to our eyes.

Oh, be not careless then and play
Until the star of peace

Hide all his beams in dark recess.

Poor pilgrims needs must lose their way
When all the shadows do increase.

From JAMES SHIRLEY'S The Cardinal, 1652.1

DAPHNE AND STREPHON.

Strephon. CO

Daphne.

'OME, my Daphne, come away, We do waste the crystal day; 'Tis Strephon calls.

What would my love?

Strephon. Come, follow to the myrtle grove,
Where Venus shall prepare

New chaplets for thy hair.

Daphne. Were I shut up within a tree,
I'd rend my bark to follow thee.

1 Licensed for the stage in November, 1641.

Strephon. My shepherdess, make haste,
The minutes fly too fast.

Daphne. In these cooler shades will I,
Blind as Cupid, kiss thine eye.

Strephon. In thy perfumed bosom then I'll stray;
In such warm snow who would not lose his

way?

Chorus. We'll laugh and leave the world behind; And gods themselves that see

Shall envy thee and me,

But never find

Such joys when they embrace a deity.

From JAMES SHIRLEY'S The
Triumph of Beauty, 1646.

THE LOVER'S PERPLEXITY.

HEIGH-HO, what shall a shepherd do

That is in love and cannot woo?

By sad experience now I find

That love is dumb as well as blind.
Her hair is bright, her forehead high;
Then am I taken with her eye.
Her cheeks I must commend for gay,
But then her nose hangs in my way.
Her lips I like, but then steps in
Her white and pretty dimpled chin.
But then her neck I do behold,
Fit to be hanged in chains of gold.
Her breast is soft as any down,
Beneath which lies her maiden town,
So strong and fortified within,
There is no hope to take it in.1

1 "Take in "-capture.

ΤΗ

From JAMES SHIRLEY'S Cupid and Death: A Masque, 1653.

LOVE'S VICTORIES.

`HOUGH little be the god of love,
Yet his arrows mighty are,

And his victories above

What the valiant reach by war.
Nor are his limits with the sky;
O'er the milky way he'll fly
And sometimes wound a deity.
Apollo once the Python slew,
But a keener arrow flew

From Daphne's eye, and made a wound
For which the god no balsam found.
One smile of Venus, too, did more
On Mars than armies could before.
If a warm fit thus pull him down,
How will she ague-shake him with a frown!
Thus Love can fiery spirits tame,

And, when he please, cold rocks inflame.

DEATH'S SUBTLE WAYS.

VICTORIOUS men of earth, no more

Proclaim how wide your empires are ;

Though you bind in every shore
And your triumphs reach as far
As night or day,

Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey
And mingle with forgotten ashes when
Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.

Devouring Famine, Plague, and War,
Each able to undo mankind,
Death's servile emissaries are ;

Nor to these alone confined,
He hath at will

More quaint and subtle ways to kill;
A smile or kiss, as he will use the art,

Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart.

From JAMES SHIRLEY'S The Contention of Ajax and Ulysses, 1659.

NO ARMOUR AGAINST FATE.

THE gl

glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things

There is no armour against Fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Sceptre and crown

Must tumble down,

And in the dust be equal made

With the poor crooked scythe and spade.

Some men with swords may reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill;
But their strong nerves at last must yield;
They tame but one another still:

Early or late,

They stoop to fate,

And must give up their murmuring breath,
When they, pale captives, creep to death.

The garlands wither on your brow,

Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now,

See where the victor-victim bleeds :

Your heads must come

To the cold tomb;

Only the actions of the just

Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.