Which some brave Muse may sing To ages following, Upon the bridal day, which is not long : Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song. From those high towers this noble lord issuing Above the rest were goodly to be seen That like the twins of Jove they seem'd in sight Each one did make his bride Against their bridal day, which is not long: Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song. E. SPENSER 54. THE HAPPY HEART. Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers ? Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexéd? Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed Honest labour bears a lovely face; Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny! Canst drink the waters of the crispéd spring? Swimm'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears? Then he that patiently want's burden bears Work apace, apace, apace, apace; T. DEKKER. 55. This Life, which seems so fair, Is like a bubble blown up in the air Who chase it everywhere And strive who can most motion it bequeath. And though it sometimes seem of its own might Like to an eye of gold to be fix'd there, But in that pomp it doth not long appear; W. DRUMMOND. 56. SOUL AND BODY. Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth, Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Then, Soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men, And death once dead, there's no more dying then. W. SHAKESPEARE, 57. LIFE. The World's a bubble, and the Life of Man In his conception wretched, from the womb Curst from his cradle, and brought up to years Who then to frail mortality shall trust, But limns on water, or but writes in dust. Yet whilst with sorrow here we live opprest, Courts are but only superficial schools The rural parts are turn'd into a den Of savage men: And where's a city from foul vice so free, Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed, Those that live single, take it for a curse, Some would have children: those that have them, moan Or wish them gone: What is it, then, to have, or have no wife, But single thraldom, or a double strife? Our own affections still at home to please To cross the seas to any foreign soil, Wars with their noise affright us; when they cease, What then remains, but that we still should cry LoRD BACOM. 58. THE LESSONS OF NATURE. Of this fair volume which we World do name Find out His power which wildest powers doth tame, His providence extending everywhere, His justice which proud rebels doth not spare, But silly we, like foolish children, rest Well pleased with colour'd vellum, leaves of gold, Or if by chance we stay our minds on aught, 59. Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move? Is this that firm decree which all doth bind? Those souls which vice's moody mists most blind, Ah! if a Providence doth sway this all, Why should best minds groan under most distress? Heavens! hinder, stop this fate; or grant a time When good may have, as well as bad, their prime ! W. DRUMMOND. 60. THE WORLD'S WAY. Tired with all these, for restful death I cry- And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, And art made tongue-tied by authority, |