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Dwell in mine arms, aloft we'll hover,
And see fields of armies fighting:
Oh, part not from me! I'll discover
There all, but books of fancy's writing.

Be but my darling, age to free thee
From her curse, shall fall a-dying;
Call me thy empress; Time to see thee
Shall forget his art of flying.

THE DEATH OF SPRING.

HERE lies the blithe Spring,
Who first taught birds to sing;
Yet in April herself fell a crying:
Then May growing hot,

A sweating sickness she got,
And the first of June lay a-dying.

Yet no month can say, But her merry daughter May Stuck her coffins with flowers great plenty: The cuckoo sung in verse

An epitaph o'er her hearse,

But assure you the lines were not dainty.

H

SUMMER SPORTS.

AYMAKERS, rakers, reapers, and mowers,
Wait on your Summer-queen;

Dress up with musk-rose her eglantine bowers,
Daffodils strew the green;

Sing, dance, and play,

'Tis holiday;

The Sun does bravely shine

On our ears of corn.

Rich as a pearl

Comes every girl,

This is mine, this is mine, this is mine;

Let us die, ere away they be borne.

Bow to the Sun, to our queen, and that fair one
Come to behold our sports:

Each bonny lass here is counted a rare one,
As those in a prince's courts.
These and we
With country glee,

Will teach the woods to resound,
And the hills with echoes hollow:
Skipping lambs

Their bleating dams,

'Mongst kids shall trip it round; For joy thus our wenches we follow.

Wind, jolly huntsmen, your neat bugles shrilly,
Hounds make a lusty cry;

Spring up, you falconers, the partridges freely,
Then let your brave hawks fly.
Horses amain,

Over ridge, over plain,

The dogs have the stag in chase :
'Tis a sport to content a king.

So ho ho! through the skies
How the proud bird flies,

And sousing kills with a grace!
Now the deer falls; hark; how they ring!

DRINKING SONG.

AST away care; he that loves sorrow

CAS

Lengthens not a day, nor can buy to-morrow;

Money is trash; and he that will spend it,
Let him drink merrily, Fortune will send it.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, Oh, ho!
Play it off stiffly, we may not part so.

Wine is a charm, it heats the blood too,

Cowards it will arm, if the wine be good too;

Quickens the wit, and makes the back able,
Scorns to submit to the watch or constable.

Pots fly about, give us more liquor,

Merrily, &c.

Brothers of a rout, our brains will flow quicker; Empty the cask; score up, we care not;

Fill all the pots again; drink on, and spare not. Merrily, &c.

THE LOVER'S MELANCHOLY. 1628.

FLY HENCE, SHADOWS!

FLY hence, shadows, that do keep

Watchful sorrows, charmed in sleep!
Though the eyes be overtaken,
Yet the heart doth ever waken

Thoughts, chained up in busy snares
Of continual woes and cares:
Love and griefs are so expressed,
As they rather sigh than rest.
Fly hence, shadows, that do keep
Watchful sorrows, charmed in sleep.

THE BROKEN HEART. 1633.

BEAUTY BEYOND THE REACH OF ART.

CAN you paint a thought? or number
Every fancy in a slumber?

Can you count soft minutes roving
From a dial's point by moving?
Can you grasp a sigh? or, lastly,
Rob a virgin's honour chastely?
No, oh no! yet you may

Sooner do both that and this,
This and that, and never miss,
Than by any praise display

Beauty's beauty; such a glory,
As beyond all fate, all story,
All arms, all arts,

All loves, all hearts,
Greater than those, or they,
Do, shall, and must obey.

COM

BRIDAL SONG.

OMFORTS lasting, loves encreasing, lastingver Like soft hours never ceasing; Plenty's pleasure, peace complying, Without jars, or tongues envỳing; Hearts by holy union wedded, More than theirs by custom bedded; Fruitful issues; life so graced, Not by age to be defaced; Budding as the year ensu❜th, Every spring another youth: All what thought can add beside, Crown this Bridegroom and this Bride!

LOVE IS EVER DYING.

H, no more, no more, too late

Sighs are spent; the burning tapers

Of a life as chaste as fate,

Pure as are unwritten papers,

Are burned out: no heat, no light
Now remains; 'tis ever night.
Love is dead; let lover's eyes,
Locked in endless dreams,
The extremes of all extremes,
Ope no more, for now Love dies.
Now love dies,-implying

Love's martyrs must be ever, ever dying.

A DIRGE.

GLORIES, pleasures, pomps, delights and ease,

Can but please

The outward senses, when the mind
Is or untroubled, or by peace refined.
Crowns may flourish and decay,
Beauties shine, but fade away.
Youth may revel, yet it must
Lie down in a bed of dust.
Earthly honours flow and waste,
Time alone doth change and last.
Sorrows mingled with contents, prepare
Rest for care;

Love only reigns in death; though art
Can find no comfort for a broken heart.

THE LADY'S TRIAL. 1638.

LOSE NOT OPPORTUNITY.

PLEASURES, beauty, youth attend ye,
Whilst the spring of nature lasteth ;
Love and melting thoughts befriend ye,
Use the time, ere winter hasteth.
Active blood, and free delight,
Place and privacy invite.

Do, do! be kind as fair,

Lose not opportunity for air.

She is cruel that denies it,

Bounty best appears in granting;
Stealth of sport as soon supplies it,
Whilst the dues of love are wanting.
Here's the sweet exchange of bliss,
When each whisper proves a kiss.
In the game are felt no pains,
For in all the lover gains.

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