215. 216. From thy plenteous hand divine God of youth, let this day here Beauty Clear and Fair BEAUTY clear and fair, Where the air Rather like a perfume dwells; Where to live near And planted there Is to live, and still live new; More than light, perpetual bliss- Dear, again back recall A stranger to himself and all! Both the wonder and the story Shall be yours, and eke the glory; I am your servant, and your thrall. Melancholy HENCE, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly! If men were wise to see 't, Welcome, folded arms and fixèd eyes, A look that's fasten'd to the ground, Fountain-heads and pathless groves, Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley, 217. W Weep no more EEP no more, nor sigh, nor groan, Violets pluck'd, the sweetest rain Trim thy locks, look cheerfully; 218. A Dirge ?-1630? CALL for the robin-redbreast and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm, 219. The Shrouding of the Duchess of Malfi H ARK! Now everything is still, The screech-owl and the whistler shrill, Call upon our dame aloud, And bid her quickly don her shroud! Much you had of land and rent; Your length in clay's now competent : Of what is 't fools make such vain keeping? 218. dole] lamentation. 220. 221. And the foul fiend more to check- 'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day; ᎪᏞ Vanitas Vanitatum LL the flowers of the spring All bewitching appetites! Sweetest breath and clearest eye Who seek by trophies and dead things And weave but nets to catch the wind. WILLIAM ALEXANDER, EARL OF STIRLING Aurora 1580?-1640 O HAPPY Tithon! if thou know'st thy hap, And valuest thy wealth, as I my want, Then need'st thou not-which ah! I grieve to grant— Repine at Jove, lull'd in his leman's lap: That golden shower in which he did repose- Which thy Aurora rains When from thy bed she passionately goes. Then, waken'd with the music of the merles, She not remembers Memnon when she mourns: -O favour'd by the fates 222. PHINEAS FLETCHER A Litany DROP, drop, slow tears, And bathe those beauteous feet Which brought from Heaven The news and Prince of Peace: Cease not, wet eyes, His mercy to entreat; Το cry for vengeance Sin doth never cease. In your deep floods Drown all my faults and fears; See sin, but through my tears. 1580-1650 |