A XXXIV THE NIGHTINGALE S it fell upon a day In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made, Trees did grow and plants did spring, She, poor bird, as all forlorn, That to hear her so complain - Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain, None takes pity on thy pain: Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee, Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee; King Pandion, he is dead, All thy friends are lapp'd in lead : R. Barnefield C XXXV ARE-CHARMER Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born, Relieve my languish, and restore the light; With dark forgetting of my care return. And let the day be time enough to mourn Cease, dreams, the images of day-desires, Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain, S. Daniel XXXVI MADRIGAL AKE, O take those lips away TAR That so sweetly were forsworn. Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, Seal'd in vain ! W. Shakespeare S XXXVII LOVE'S FAREWELL INCE there's no help, come let us kiss and part,— Nay I have done, you get no more of me ; And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free; Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath, - Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, From death to life thou might'st him yet recover! M. Drayton MY XXXVIII TO HIS LUTE Y lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow When immelodious winds but made thee move, And birds their ramage did on thee bestow. Since that dear Voice which did thy sounds approve, Which wont in such harmonious strains to flow, Is reft from Earth to tune those spheres above, Thy pleasing notes be pleasing notes no more, Each stroke a sigh, each sound draws forth a tear; Or if that any hand to touch thee deign, W. Drummond. XXXIX BLIND LOVE ME! what eyes hath love put in my head Or if they have, where is my judgment fled If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, How can it! O how can love's eye be true, O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind, XL THE UNFAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS HILE that the sun with his beams hot WHIL Scorched the fruits in vale and mountain, Philon the shepherd, late forgot, Sitting beside a crystal fountain, In shadow of a green oak-tree Upon his pipe this song play'd he: Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love, Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love; Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. So long as I was in your sight I was your heart, your soul, and treasure ; Three days endured your love to me, Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love, Another Shepherd you did see To whom your heart was soon enchained; Soon came a third, your love to win, |