E have been fresh and green,

YE

Ye have been filled with flowers;

And ye the walks have been

Where maids have spent their hours.

You have beheld how they

With wicker arks did come,

To kiss and bear away

The richer cowslips home.

You've heard them sweetly sing,
And seen them in a round;
Each virgin, like a spring,
With honeysuckles crowned.

(M 349)

T

HERE

Lately made of flesh and blood;

Who, as soon fell fast asleep,
As her little eyes did peep.

Give her strewings; but not stir
The earth, that lightly covers her.

UPON A CHILD.

HERE a pretty baby lies

Sung asleep with lullabies;
Pray be silent, and not stir

The easy earth that covers her.

GRACE FOR A CHILD.

HERE, a little child, I stand,
Heaving up my either hand:

Cold as paddocks though they be,
Here I lift them up to Thee,
For a benison to fall

On our meat, and on our all. Amen.

THE LITANY.

IN the hour of my distress,

When temptations me oppress,

And when I my sins confess,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When I lie within my bed,

Sick in heart, and sick in head,

And with doubts discomforted,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the house doth sigh and weep
And the world is drowned in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the artless doctor sees
No one hope, but of his fees,
And his skill runs on the lees,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When his potion and his pill
Has or none or little skill,
Meet for nothing but to kill,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the passing-bell doth toll,
And the furies in a shoal

Come to fright a parting soul,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,

And that number more than true,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the priest his last hath prayed,
And I nod to what is said,

'Cause my speech is now decayed,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When, God knows, I'm tost about,
Either with despair or doubt;

Yet, before the glass be out,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tempter me pursu❜th

With the sins of all my youth,

And half damns me with untruth,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the flames and hellish cries

Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes,

And all terrors me surprise,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the Judgment is revealed,

And that opened which was sealed;

When to Thee I have appealed,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

THOMAS CAREW.

(1598?-1639?.)

From Carew's Poems, 1640. There are modern editions by Mr. W. C. Hazlitt (in the Roxburghe Library), and by the Rev. J. W. Ebsworth (in the Library of Old Authors). They are also reprinted in vol. v. of Chalmers' Poets.

SONG.

ASK me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;

For in your beauty's orient deep
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

Ask me no more whither do stray
The golden atoms of the day,
For, in pure love, heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.

Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past,
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters and keeps warm her note.

Ask me no more where those stars light
That downwards fall in dead of night,
For in your eyes they sit, and there
Fixed become as in their sphere.

Ask me no more if east or west
The Phoenix builds her spicy nest,
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.