XLVII A LAND DIRGE ALL for the robin-redbreast and the wren, And with leaves and flowers do cover The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm J. Webster And shalt by fortune once more re-survey Compare them with the bettering of the time, O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought 'Had my friend's muse grown with this growing age, A dearer birth than this his love had brought, To march in ranks of better equipage : 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 Consign to thee, and come to dust. W. Shakespeare XLVI A SEA DIRGE ULL fathom five thy father lies: FULL fathom, five thy father 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, Call for the haby groves the 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 I' XLVIII POST MORTEM Thou survive my well-contented day When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, 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 y bell 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 Or in the heart, or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes, Let us all ring fancy's knell ; W. Shakespeare C LI CUPID AND CAMPASPE UPID and my Campaspe play'd At cards for kisses; Cupid paid: Growing on 's.cheek (but none knows how); O Love! has she done this to thee? LII PACK, clouds, away, and welcome day, With night we banish sorrow; Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow! Wings from the wind to please her mind, Notes from the lark I 'll borrow; |