Phyl. Say to her thy true love was not here. 55 Remember, remember, To-morrow is another day. Cor. Doubt me not, my true love, do not fear. Heaven keep our loves alway! THE NEW JERUSALEM Hierusalem, my happy home, When shall I come to thee? When shall my sorrows have an end, O happy harbour of the saints! No grief, no care, no toil. There lust and lucre cannot dwell; 60 1600. 5 ΙΟ There grows such sweet and pleasant flowers As nowhere else are seen. 25 Quite through the streets, with silver sound, The flood of life doth flow; Upon whose banks on every side There trees for evermore bear fruit, And evermore do spring; There evermore the angels sit, And evermore do sing. Our Lady sings Magnificat With tones surpassing sweet; And all the virgins bear their part, Hierusalem, my happy home, Would God I were in thee! Would God my woes were at an end, Thy joys that I might see! 16c1. WEEP YOU NO MORE, SAD FOUNTAINS Weep you no more, sad fountains; What need you flow so fast? Look how the snowy mountains Heaven's sun doth gently waste. But my sun's heavenly eyes View not your weeping, That now lies sleeping, Sleep is a reconciling, A rest that peace begets: When fair at ev'n he sets? Sleeping. 309 35 40 5 10 151 MAYING SONG Sister, awake! close not your eyes! And the bright Morning doth arise See, the clear Sun, the world's bright eye, In at our window peeping: Lo, how he blusheth to espy Us idle wenches sleeping. Therefore, awake! make haste, I say, And let us, without staying, All in our gowns of green so gay 1604. YE LITTLE BIRDS THAT SIT AND SING Ye little birds that sit and sing Amidst the shady valleys, Go, pretty birds, about her bower! Go tell her, through your chirping bills, To her is only known my love, Which from the world is hidden: Go, pretty birds, and tell her so! 5 ΙΟ 5 .10 And she that hath the sweetest voice, O, fly! make haste! see, see, she falls That, waking, she may wonder. And when you hear her kind reply, 1607. SAMUEL DANIEL FROM XXXVI Look, Delia, how w' esteem the half-blown rose No sooner spreads her glory in the air 5 But straight her wide-blown pomp comes to decline; So fade the roses of those cheeks of thine: No April can revive thy withered flowers Whose springing grace adorns thy glory now; XLVII Beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew, IO Soon doth it fade that makes the fairest flourish; Shalt bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth, LI Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, The shipwrack of my ill-adventured youth; To model forth the passions of the morrow; 5 10 5 ΙΟ FROM THE CIVIL WARS The morning of that day which was his last, 1592. Out at a little grate his eyes he cast Upon those bordering hills and open plain, And views the town, and sees how people passed; 5 Where others' liberty makes him complain The more his own, and grieves his soul the more, "O happy man," saith he, "that lo I see Grazing his cattle in those pleasant fields, ΙΟ |