.229.

Her Passing

THE beauty and the life

Of life's and beauty's fairest paragon

O tears! O grief!-hung at a feeble thread
To which pale Atropos had set her knife;
The soul with many a groan

Had left each outward part,

And now did take his last leave of the heart: Naught else did want, save death, ev'n to be dead; When the afflicted band about her bed,

Seeing so fair him come in lips, cheeks, eyes,

Cried, Ah! and can Death enter Paradise?'

MY thoughts hold mortal strife;

I do detest my life,

And with lamenting cries

Peace to my soul to bring

Oft call that prince which here doth monarchise : -But he, grim-grinning King,

Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprise, Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb, Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.

231.

Change should breed Change

NEW doth the sun appear,

ΝΕ

The mountains' snows decay,

Crown'd with frail flowers forth comes the baby year.

My soul, time posts away;

And thou yet in that frost

Which flower and fruit hath lost, As if all here immortal were, dost stay.

For shame! thy powers awake,

Look to that Heaven which never night makes black, And there at that immortal sun's bright rays,

Deck thee with flowers which fear not rage of days!

232.

THE

Saint John Baptist

'HE last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King, Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild, Among that savage brood the woods forth bring, Which he than man more harmless found and mild. His food was locusts, and what young doth spring With honey that from virgin hives distill'd; Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing Made him appear, long since from earth exiled. There burst he forth: All ye, whose hopes rely On God, with me amidst these deserts mourn; Repent, repent, and from old errors turn!' -Who listen'd to his voice, obey'd his cry? Only the echoes, which he made relent,

Rung from their marble caves Repent! Repent!

233.

GILES FLETCHER

Wooing Song

158?-1623

LOVE is the blossom where there blows
Every thing that lives or grows :

Love doth make the Heav'ns to move,
And the Sun doth burn in love:

Love the strong and weak doth yòke, And makes the ivy climb the oak, Under whose shadows lions wild, Soften'd by love, grow tame and mild: Love no med'cine can appease,

He burns the fishes in the seas:

Not all the skill his wounds can stench,
Not all the sea his fire can quench.
Love did make the bloody spear
Once a leavy coat to wear,

While in his leaves there shrouded lay
Sweet birds, for love that sing and play
And of all love's joyful flame

I the bud and blossom am.

Only bend thy knee to me,

Thy wooing shall thy winning be!

See, see the flowers that below
Now as fresh as morning blow;
And of all the virgin rose
That as bright Aurora shows;
How they all unleavèd die,

Losing their virginity!

Like unto a summer shade,

But now born, and now they fade.

Every thing doth pass away;
There is danger in delay:
Come, come, gather then the rose,
Gather it, or it you lose!
All the sand of Tagus' shore
Into my bosom casts his ore :
All the valleys' swimming corn
To my house is yearly borne:

Every grape of every vine

Is gladly bruised to make me wine:
While ten thousand kings, as proud,
To carry up my train have bow'd,
And a world of ladies send me
In my chambers to attend me:
All the stars in Heav'n that shine,
And ten thousand more, are mine:
Only bend thy knee to me,
Thy wooing shall thy winning be!

FRANCIS BEAUMONT

1586-1616

234. On the Tombs in Westminster Abbey

MORTALITY, behold and fear!

What a change of flesh is here!

Think how many royal bones.

Sleep within this heap of stones:

Here they lie had realms and lands,

Who now want strength to stir their hands:
Where from their pulpits seal'd with dust
They preach, 'In greatness is no trust.'
Here's an acre sown indeed
With the richest, royall'st seed
That the earth did e'er suck in

Since the first man died for sin:

Here the bones of birth have cried

"Though gods they were, as men they died.'

Here are sands, ignoble things,

Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings;

Here's a world of pomp and state,

Buried in dust, once dead by fate.

235.

236.

FLY

Dawn

¡LY hence, shadows, that do keep
Watchful sorrows charm'd in sleep!
Tho' the eyes be overtaken,

Yet the heart doth ever waken
Thoughts chain'd up in busy snares
Of continual woes and cares :
Love and griefs are so exprest
As they rather sigh than rest.

Fly hence, shadows, that do keep
Watchful sorrows charm'd in sleep!

I

GEORGE WITHER

I loved a Lass

LOVED a lass, a fair one,
As fair as e'er was seen;
She was indeed a rare one,
Another Sheba Queen:
But, fool as then I was,

I thought she loved me too:
But now, alas! she's left me,
Falero, lero, loo!

Her hair like gold did glister,
Each eye was like a star,
She did surpass her sister,
Which pass'd all others far;
She would me honey call,

She'd-O she'd kiss me too!
But now, alas! she's left me,
Falero, lero, loo!

1586-1639

1588-1667