You common people of the skies, That warble forth dame Nature's lays, By your weak accents; what's your praise When Philomel her voice doth raise? You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own,- So when my Mistress shall be seen Sir H. Wotton CXI TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY Daughter to that good Earl, once President Till the sad breaking of that Parliament Kill'd with report that old man eloquent ; Though later born than to have known the days So well your words his noble virtues praise, He that loves a rosy cheek Or a coral ip admires, Buc a smooth and steadfast mind, T. Carew CXIII TO DIANEME Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes CXIV Love in thy youth, fair Maid, be wise; And though each morning new arise 2 Thou as Heaven art fair and young, All these will be declining. Then winter comes with all his fears, Too late then wilt thou shower thy tears,- Anon. CXV Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her me and me, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee: How small a part of time they share E. Waller CXVI TO CELIA Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I'll not look for wine. But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I sent thee late a rosy wreath, But thou thereon didst only breathe Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, B. Jonson CXVII CHERRY-RIPE There is a garden in her face Where roses and white lilies blow; 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 enclose 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; CXVIII Anon. CORINNA'S MAYING Get up, get up for shame! The blooming morn Nay! not so much as out of bed? Whenas a thousand virgins on this day, Rise; and put on your foliage, and be seen For jewels for your gown, or hair : Besides, the childhood of the day has kept, Hangs on the dew-locks of the night : Retires himself, or else stands still Till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying: Few beads are best, when once we go a Maying. |