SONG.

[1609.]

HARK! hark! the lark at heaven's gate fings,

And Phoebus gins arise,
His feed to water at those springs

On chaliced flowers that lies:

And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;

With every thing that pretty bin:
My lady sweet, arise.

Arise, arise.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

SONG.

[1612.]

FULL fathom five thy father lies:
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell :

Hark! now I hear them,—ding, dong, bell.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

SONG.

[1612.]

COME unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:

Courtfied when you have, and kissed,
(The wild waves whift)

Foot it featly here and there,

And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.
Hark, hark!

Bough, wowgh.

The watch-dogs bark:
Bough, wowgh.

Hark, hark! I hear

The ftrain of ftrutting chanticleer

Cry, Cock-a-doodle-do.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

SONG.

[1612.]

WHERE the bee sucks, there suck 1;

In a cowflip's bell I lie:

There I couch when owls do cry:

On the bat's back I do fly

After summer merrily:

Merrily, merrily, fhall I live now,

Under the bloom that hangs on the bough.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

SONG.

[1598?]

I.

SWEETEST love, I do not go,
For weariness of thee,
Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter love for me;

But fince that I

At the last must part, 'tis best

Thus to use myself in jest

By feigned deaths to die.

II.

Yesternight the sun went hence,
And yet is here to-day:
He hath no defire nor sense,
Nor half so bort a way:
Then fear not me,

But believe that I shall make
Speedier journeys, fince I take

More wings and spurs than he.

III.

O how feeble is man's power,

That, if good fortune fall, Cannot add another hour, Nor a loft hour recall!

But come bad chance,
And we join to it our strength,
And we teach it art and length,
Itself o'er us to advance.

IV.

When thou figh'st thou figh'ft no wind,
But fight my soul away:
When thou weep ft, unkindly kind,
My life's blood doth decay:

It cannot be

That thou lovft me, as thou say`st,
If in thine my life thou waste,
That art the best of me.

V.

Let not thy divining heart
Forethink me any ill:
Destiny may take thy part,
And may thy fears fulfil:
But think that we

Are but turned afide to fleep:

They, who one another keep
Alive, ne'er parted be.

JOHN DONNE.

MADRIGAL.

[1598.]

LADY, your words do spite me,

Yet your sweet lips so soft kiss and delight me;
Your deeds my heart surcharged with overjoying,
Your taunts my life deftroying;

Since both have force to kill me,

Let kifes sweet, sweet kill me!
Knights fight with swords and lances,
Fight you with smiling glances;
So, like swans of Meander,

My ghost from hence shall wander,

Singing and dying, finging and dying.

WILBYE'S MADRIGALS.

MADRIGAL.

[1598.]

LADY, when I behold the roses sprouting,

Which clad in damask mantles deck the arbours,
And then behold your lips, where sweet love harbours,
My eyes present me with a double doubting;

For viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes,
Whether the roses be your lips, or your lips the roses.

WILBYE'S MADRIGALS.