And thou yet in that frost

Which flower and fruit hath lost, As if all here immortal were, dost stay.

For shame! thy powers awake,

Look to that Heaven which never night makes black, And there at that immortal sun's bright rays,

Deck thee with flowers which fear not rage of days!

232.

TH

Saint John Baptist

HE last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King, Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild, Among that savage brood the woods forth bring, Which he than man more harmless found and mild. His food was locusts, and what young doth spring With honey that from virgin hives distill'd; Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing Made him appear, long since from earth exiled. There burst he forth: All ye, whose hopes rely On God, with me amidst these deserts mourn ; Repent, repent, and from old errors turn!' -Who listen'd to his voice, obey'd his cry? Only the echoes, which he made relent,

6

LOVE is the blossom where there blows

Every thing that lives or grows :

Love doth make the Heav'ns to move,
And the Sun doth burn in love:

Love the strong and weak doth yoke, And makes the ivy climb the oak, Under whose shadows lions wild, Soften'd by love, grow tame and mild: Love no med'cine can appease,

He burns the fishes in the seas:

Not all the skill his wounds can stench,
Not all the sea his fire can quench.
Love did make the bloody spear
Once a leavy coat to wear,

While in his leaves there shrouded lay
Sweet birds, for love that sing and play
And of all love's joyful flame

I the bud and blossom am.

Only bend thy knee to me,

Thy wooing shall thy winning be!

See, see the flowers that below
Now as fresh as morning blow;
And of all the virgin rose
That as bright Aurora shows;
How they all unleavèd die,
Losing their virginity!

Like unto a summer shade,

But now born, and now they fade.

Every thing doth pass away;

There is danger in delay:

Come, come, gather then the rose,

Gather it, or it you lose!

All the sand of Tagus' shore

Every grape of every vine

Is gladly bruised to make me wine:
While ten thousand kings, as proud,
To carry up my train have bow'd,
And a world of ladies send me
In my chambers to attend me:
All the stars in Heav'n that shine,
And ten thousand more, are mine:
Only bend thy knee to me,
Thy wooing shall thy winning be!

FRANCIS BEAUMONT

1586-1616

234. On the Tombs in Westminster Abbey

MORTALITY, behold and fear!

What a change of flesh is here!

Think how many royal bones

Sleep within this heap of stones :

Here they lie had realms and lands,

Who now want strength to stir their hands:
Where from their pulpits seal'd with dust
They preach, 'In greatness is no trust.'
Here's an acre sown indeed
With the richest, royall'st seed
That the earth did e'er suck in

Since the first man died for sin :

Here the bones of birth have cried

'Though gods they were, as men they died.'

Here are sands, ignoble things,

Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings;

Here's a world of pomp and state,
Buried in dust, once dead by fate.

235.

236.

Dawn

FLY hence, shadows, that do keep
Watchful sorrows charm'd in sleep!
Tho' the eyes be overtaken,
Yet the heart doth ever waken
Thoughts chain'd up in busy snares
Of continual woes and cares:
Love and griefs are so exprest
As they rather sigh than rest.

Fly hence, shadows, that do keep
Watchful sorrows charm'd in sleep!

1586-1639

1588-1667

Many a merry meeting

My love and I have had; She was my only sweeting, She made my heart full glad; The tears stood in her eyes

Like to the morning dew:
But now, alas! she's left me,
Falero, lero, loo!

Her cheeks were like the cherry,
Her skin was white as snow;
When she was blithe and merry
She angel-like did show;
Her waist exceeding small,

The fives did fit her shoe:
But now, alas! she's left me,
Falero, lero, loo!

In summer time or winter

She had her heart's desire; I still did scorn to stint her From sugar, sack, or fire; The world went round about, No cares we ever knew: But now, alas! she's left me, Falero, lero, loo!

To maidens' vows and swearing Henceforth no credit give;

You may give them the hearing,

But never them believe; They are as false as fair, Unconstant, frail, untrue:

For mine, alas! hath left me,

Falero, lero, loo!