O, how feeble is man's power,
That, if good fortune fall,
Cannot add another hour
Nor a lost hour recall;
But come bad chance,
And we join to it our strength,
And we teach it art and length,
Itself o'er us to advance.
When thou sigh'st, thou sigh'st not wind,
But sigh'st my soul away;
When thou weep'st, unkindly kind,
My life's blood doth decay:
That thou lovest me as thou say'st,
If in thine my life thou waste,
That art the best of me.
Let not thy divining heart
Forethink me any ill:
Destiny may take thy part,
And may thy fears fulfil.
But think that we
Are but turned aside to sleep:
They who one another keep
Alive, ne'er parted be.
THE SECOND ANNIVERSARY
As doth the pith, which, lest our bodies slack,
Strings fast the little bones of neck and back,
So by the soul doth death string heaven and earth;
For when our soul enjoys this her third birth-
Creation gave her one; a second, grace-
Heaven is as near and present to her face
As colours are and objects in a room,
Where darkness was before, when tapers come.
This must, my soul, thy long-short progress be
To advance these thoughts. Remember, then, that she, 10
She, whose fair body no such prison was
But that a soul might well be pleased to pass
An age in her; she whose rich beauty lent
Mintage to other beauties, for they went
But for so much as they were like to her;
She, in whose body-if we dare prefer
This low world to so high a mark as she-
The western treasure, eastern spicery,
Europe, and Afric, and the unknown rest
Were easily found, or what in them was best-
And when we have made this large discovery
Of all, in her some one part then will be
Twenty such parts, whose plenty and riches is
Enough to make twenty such worlds as this;—
She, whom had they known who did first betroth
The tutelar angels, and assigned one both
To nations, cities, and to companies,
To functions, offices, and dignities,
And to each several man, to him, and him,
They would have given her one for every limb;
She, of whose soul if we may say 't was gold,
Her body was th' electrum, and did hold
Many degrees of that (we understood
Her by her sight; her pure and eloquent blood
Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought
That one might almost say her body thought);
She, she thus richly and largely housed, is gone,
And chides us slow-paced snails who crawl upon
Our prison's prison, earth, nor think us well
Longer than whilst we bear our brittle shell.
1612.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy picture be,
Much pleasure; then, from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and souls' delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke: why swell'st thou, then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die.
THOMAS HEYWOOD
PACK, CLOUDS, AWAY, AND WELCOME, DAY
Pack, clouds, away, and welcome, day!
With night we banish sorrow.
Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft,
To give my love good-morrow!
Wings from the wind to please her mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow.
Bird, prune thy wing; nightingale, sing,
To give my love good-morrow!
To give my love good-morrow,
Notes from them all I'll borrow.
Wake from thy rest, robin-redbreast;
Sing, birds, in every furrow!
And from each bill let music shrill
Give my fair love good-morrow!
Blackbird and thrush in every bush,
Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow,
You pretty elves, amongst yourselves
Sing my fair love good-morrow!
To give my love good-morrow,
Sing, birds, in every furrow!
SHEPHERDS ALL AND MAIDENS FAIR
Shepherds all, and maidens fair,
Fold your flocks up, for the air
'Gins to thicken, and the sun
Already his great course hath run.
See the dew-drops how they kiss
Every little flower that is,
Hanging on their velvet heads
Like a rope of crystal beads.
See the heavy clouds low falling,
And bright Hesperus down calling
The dead night from under ground;
At whose rising mists unsound,
Damps and vapours fly apace,
Hovering o'er the wanton face
Of these pastures, where they come
Striking dead both bud and bloom.
Therefore from such danger lock
Every one his loved flock;
And let your dogs lie loose without,
Lest the wolf come as a scout
From the mountain, and ere day
Bear a lamb or kid away,
HENCE, ALL YOU VAIN DELIGHTS
Hence, all you vain delights,
As short as are the nights
Wherein you spend your folly!
There's naught in this life sweet,
If man were wise to see 't,
But only melancholy,
O sweetest melancholy!
Welcome. folded arms and fixed eyes,
A sign that piercing mortifies,
A look that's fastened to the ground,
A tongue chained up without a sound;
Fountain-heads and pathless groves,
Places which pale Passion loves;
Moonlight walks, when all the fowls
Are warmly housed, save bats and owls.
A midnight bell, a parting groan,
These are the sounds we feed upon,
Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley.
Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.
About 1613?
Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes,
Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose
On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud
In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud
Or painful to his slumbers; easy, sweet,
And as a purling stream, thou son of Night,
Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain
Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain.
Into this prince gently, oh, gently slide,
And kiss him into slumbers like a bride!
About 1616.
THE BEGGARS' HOLIDAY
Cast our caps and cares away:
This is beggars' holiday!
At the crowning of our king,
Thus we ever dance and sing.
In the world look out and see,
Where so happy a prince as he?
Where the nation live so free
And so merry as do we?
Be it peace or be it war,
Here at liberty we are,
And enjoy our ease and rest.
To the field we are not pressed,
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