Bulchevy's Book of English Verse - LightNovelsOnl.com
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To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them all I'll borrow.
Wake from thy nest, robin red-breast!
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 c.o.c.ksparrow, You pretty elves, among yourselves Sing my fair Love good-morrow!
To give my Love good-morrow!
Sing, birds, in every furrow!
stare] starling.
Thomas Heywood. 157?-1650
206. The Message
YE little birds that sit and sing Amidst the shady valleys, And see how Phillis sweetly walks Within her garden-alleys; Go, pretty birds, about her bower; Sing, pretty birds, she may not lower; Ah me! methinks I see her frown!
Ye pretty wantons, warble.
Go tell her through your chirping bills, As you by me are bidden, To her is only known my love, Which from the world is hidden.
Go, pretty birds, and tell her so, See that your notes strain not too low, For still methinks I see her frown; Ye pretty wantons, warble.
Go tune your voices' harmony And sing, I am her lover; Strain loud and sweet, that every note With sweet content may move her: And she that hath the sweetest voice, Tell her I will not change my choice: --Yet still methinks I see her frown!
Ye pretty wantons, warble.
O fly! make haste! see, see, she falls Into a pretty slumber!
Sing round about her rosy bed That waking she may wonder: Say to her, 'tis her lover true That sendeth love to you, to you!
And when you hear her kind reply, Return with pleasant warblings.
John Fletcher. 1579-1625
207. Sleep
COME, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving Lock me in delight awhile; Let some pleasing dreams beguile All my fancies; that from thence I may feel an influence All my powers of care bereaving!
Though but a shadow, but a sliding, Let me know some little joy!
We that suffer long annoy Are contented with a thought Through an idle fancy wrought: O let my joys have some abiding!
John Fletcher. 1579-1625
208. Bridal Song
CYNTHIA, to thy power and thee We obey.
Joy to this great company!
And no day Come to steal this night away Till the rites of love are ended, And the l.u.s.ty bridegroom say, Welcome, light, of all befriended!
Pace out, you watery powers below; Let your feet, Like the galleys when they row, Even beat; Let your unknown measures, set To the still winds, tell to all That G.o.ds are come, immortal, great, To honour this great nuptial!
John Fletcher. 1579-1625
209. Aspatia's Song
LAY a garland on my herse Of the dismal yew; Maidens, willow branches bear; Say, I died true.
My love was false, but I was firm From my hour of birth.
Upon my buried body lie Lightly, gentle earth!
John Fletcher. 1579-1625
210. Hymn to Pan
SING his praises that doth keep Our flocks from harm.
Pan, the father of our sheep; And arm in arm Tread we softly in a round, Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground Fills the music with her sound.
Pan, O great G.o.d Pan, to thee Thus do we sing!
Thou who keep'st us chaste and free As the young spring: Ever be thy honour spoke From that place the morn is broke To that place day doth unyoke!
John Fletcher. 1579-1625
211. Away, Delights
AWAY, delights! go seek some other dwelling, For I must die.
Farewell, false love! thy tongue is ever telling Lie after lie.
For ever let me rest now from thy smarts; Alas, for pity go And fire their hearts That have been hard to thee! Mine was not so.
Never again deluding love shall know me, For I will die; And all those griefs that think to overgrow me Shall be as I: For ever will I sleep, while poor maids cry-- 'Alas, for pity stay, And let us die With thee! Men cannot mock us in the clay.'
John Fletcher. 1579-1625
212. Love's Emblems
NOW the l.u.s.ty spring is seen; Golden yellow, gaudy blue, Daintily invite the view: Everywhere on every green Roses blus.h.i.+ng as they blow, And enticing men to pull, Lilies whiter than the snow, Woodbines of sweet honey full: All love's emblems, and all cry, 'Ladies, if not pluck'd, we die.'
Yet the l.u.s.ty spring hath stay'd; Blus.h.i.+ng red and purest white Daintily to love invite Every woman, every maid: Cherries kissing as they grow, And inviting men to taste, Apples even ripe below, Winding gently to the waist: All love's emblems, and all cry, 'Ladies, if not pluck'd, we die.'
John Fletcher. 1579-1625
213. Hear, ye Ladies
HEAR, ye ladies that despise What the mighty Love has done; Fear examples and be wise: Fair Callisto was a nun; Leda, sailing on the stream To deceive the hopes of man, Love accounting but a dream, Doted on a silver swan; Danae, in a brazen tower, Where no love was, loved a shower.
Hear, ye ladies that are coy, What the mighty Love can do; Fear the fierceness of the boy: The chaste Moon he makes to woo; Vesta, kindling holy fires, Circled round about with spies, Never dreaming loose desires, Doting at the altar dies; Ilion, in a short hour, higher He can build, and once more fire.
