XLII BLOW, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly : Then, heigh ho! the holly! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not. Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere foily : Then, heigh ho! the holly! This life is most jolly. XLIII W. Shakespeare MADRIGAL Y thoughts hold mortal strife; MY MI do detest my life, And with lamenting cries Peace to my soul to bring Oft call that prince which here doth monarchize: But he, grim grinning King, Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprize, Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb, Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come. W. Drummond C XLIV DIRGE OF LOVE 'OME away, come away, Death, And in sad cypres let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, My part of death no one so true Not a flower, not a flower sweet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: Lay me, O where Sad true lover never find my grave, W. Shakespeare XLV FIDELE EAR no more the heat o' the sun FEAR ne murious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, Fear no more the frown o' the great, To thee the reed is as the oak: Fear no more the lightning flash Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; Fear not slander, censure rash; Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: All lovers young, all lovers must W. Shakespeare F XLVI A SEA DIRGE ULL fathom five thy father lies: Those are pearls that were his eyes : But doth suffer a sea-change Ding, dong, Bell. W. Shakespeare XLVII A LAND DIRGE ALL 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 7. Webster XLVIII POST MORTEM IF Thou survive my well-contented day cover, my with dust shall And shalt by fortune once more re-survey Compare them with the bettering of the time, O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought But since he died, and poets better prove, Theirs for their style I 'll read, his for his love.' W. Shakespeare XLIX THE TRIUMPH OF DEATH O longer mourn for me when I am dead Give warning to the world, that I am fled Nay, if you read this line, remember not O if, I say, you look upon this verse Lest the wise world should look into your moan, And mock you with me after I am gone. W. Shakespeare L MADRIGAL ELL me where is Fancy bred, TELL me where or in the head? How begot, how nourished? |