H

AEGLAMOUR'S LAMENT

From THE SAD SHEPHERD

BEN JONSON

ERE she was wont to go, and here, and here!

Just where those daisies, pinks, and violets grow: The world may find the spring by following her; For other print her airy steps ne'er left: Her treading would not bend a blade of grass, Or shake the downy blow-ball from his stalk; But like the soft west-wind she shot along;

And where she went, the flowers took the thickest root As she had sowed them with her odorous foot.

HYMN TO DIANA

From CYNTHIA'S REVELS

BEN JONSON

UEEN and Huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,

Seated in thy silver chair,

State in wonted manner keep:
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright.

Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made

Heaven to clear when day did close:
Bless us then with wishèd sight
Goddess excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart

And thy crystal-shining quiver;

Give unto the flying hart

Space to breathe, how short soever:

Thou that mak'st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.

PHYLLIS

WILLIAM DRUMMOND

N petticoat of green,

Her hair about her eyne,

Phyllis beneath an oak

Sat milking her fair flock:

'Mongst that sweet-strainèd moisture, rare delight, Her hand seemed milk, in milk it was so white.

TO PAN

JOHN FLETCHER

ALL ye woods, and trees, and bowers,

All ye

virtues and ye powers

That inhabit in the lakes,

In the pleasant springs or brakes,

Move your feet

To our sound,

Whilst we greet

All this ground,

With his honour and his name
That defends our flocks from blame.

He is great, and he is just,

He is ever good, and must
Thus be honoured.

Daffodillies,

Roses, pinks, and lovèd lilies

Let us fling

Whilst we sing,

Ever holy,

Ever holy,

Ever honoured, ever young:
Thus great Pan is ever sung.

S

FOLDING THE FLOCKS

JOHN FLETCHER

HEPHERDS all, and maidens fair,
Fold your flocks up; for the air
'Gins to thicken, and the sun
Already his great course hath run.
See the dew-drops, how they kiss
Every little flower that is;
Hanging on their velvet heads,
Like a string of crystal beads.
See the heavy clouds, low falling,
And bright Hesperus down calling
The dead night from underground;
At whose rising, mists unsound,
Damps and vapours, fly apace,
And hover o'er the smiling face
Of these pastures; where they come,
Striking dead both bud and bloom.
Therefore from such danger lock
Every one his lovèd flock;

And let your dogs lie loose without,
Lest the wolf come as a scout