XXXIII THE LOVER'S APPEAL A ND wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay! say nay ! for shame, To save thee from the blame Of all my grief and grame. And wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay! say nay! And wilt thou leave me thus, And wilt thou leave me thus, Neither for pain nor smart : And wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay! say nay! And wilt thou leave me thus, And have no more pity Of him that loveth thee? Alas! thy cruelty! And wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay! say nay! Sir T. Wyat XXXIV THE NIGHTINGALE S it fell upon a day AsIn the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made, She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee, King Pandion, he is dead, All thy friends are lapp'd in lead: All thy fellow birds do sing R. Barnefield XXXV CARE son of the bobl, 'ARE-CHARMER Sleep, son of the sable Night, Relieve my languish, and restore the light; And let the day be time enough to mourn Cease, dreams, the images of day-desires, Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain, S. Daniel TA XXXVI MADRIGAL AKE, O take those lips away Bring again Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, Seal'd in vain ! W. Shakespeare XXXVII LOVE'S FAREWELL INCE there's no help, come let us kiss and part,— SINCE there's one, you get no more of me, And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart, Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath, -Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, MY XXXVIII TO HIS LUTE Y lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow With thy green mother in some shady grove, When immelodious winds but made thee move, And birds their ramage did on thee bestow. Since that dear Voice which did thy sounds approve, Which wont in such harmonious strains to flow, Is reft from Earth to tune those spheres above, Thy pleasing notes be pleasing notes no more, Each stroke a sigh, each sound draws forth a tear; Or if that any hand to touch thee deign, W. Drummond. XXXIX BLIND LOVE ME! what eyes hath love put in my head Which have no correspondence with true sight: Or if they have, where is my judgment fled If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, How can it ! O how can love's eye be true, O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind, |