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INCE there's no help, come let us kiss and part, —
Nay I have done, you get no more of me; And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free ;
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, From death to life thou might'st him yet recover !
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,
Or if that any hand to touch thee deign,
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 That censures falsely what they see aright ?
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, Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find !
THE UNFAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS
HILE that the sun with his beams hot
Scorchéd the fruits in vale and mountain,
In shadow of a green oak-tree
Upon his pipe this song play'd he: Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love, Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love; Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
So long as I was in your sight
– Three days endured your love to me,
Another Shepherd you did see
Soon came a third, your love to win,
And we were out and he was in.
Sure you have made me passing glad
for my best beloved :
Two days before it was begun :-
A RENUNCIATION Y
women could be fair, and yet not fond,
Or that their love were firm, not fickle still,
To mark the choice they make, and how they change,
Yet for disport we fawn and flatter both,
the time when nothing else can please,
E. Vere, Earl of Oxford
LOW, blow, thou winter wind,
As man's ingratitude ;
Although thy breath be rude.
Then, heigh ho ! the holly !
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
As friend remember'd not.
Then, heigh ho ! the holly!
Y thoughts hold mortal strife;
I 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,