XCVIII.

JOHN MILTON, 1608-1674.

SONG ON MAY MORNING.

WOW the bright morning star, day's harbinger,

Now

Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.

Hail bounteous May, that dost inspire
Mirth and youth and warm desire;
Woods and groves are of thy dressing,

Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee and wish thee long.

XCIX.

THE LADY'S SONG.

WEET Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen

SWEE Within thy airy shell

By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale,

Where the love-lorn nightingale

Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well:
Can'st thou not tell me of a gentle pair

That likest thy Narcissus are?

O! if thou have

Hid them in some flowery cave,

Tell me but where,

Sweet queen of parley, daughter of the sphere,
So may'st thou be translated to the skies,

And give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies.

C.

WHY

ORSAMES' SONG.

SIR JOHN SUCKLING, 1609-1641.

HY so pale and wan, fond lover?
Prithee, why so pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her,

Looking ill prevail?

Prithee, why so pale?

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?

Prithee, why so mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her,

Saying nothing do 't?

Prithee, why so mute?

Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move,

This cannot take her ;

If of herself she will not love,

Nothing can make her :

The devil take her !

CI.

H

SONG.

ONEST lover whosoever,

If in all thy love there ever

Was one wavering thought, if thy flame
Were not still even, still the same:

Know this,

Thou lovest amiss,

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If when she appears i' the room

Thou dost not quake, and art struck dumb,

And in striving this to cover

Dost not speak thy words twice over,

Know this,

Thou lovest amiss,

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If fondly thou dost not mistake,
And all defects for graces take,

Persuad'st thyself that jests are broken When she hath little or nothing spoken, Know this,

Thou lovest amiss,

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If when thou appear'st to be within
Thou lett'st not men ask and ask again;
And when thou answerest, if it be
To what was asked thee, properly,
Know this,

Thou lovest amiss,

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If when thy stomach calls to eat
Thou cutt'st not fingers 'stead of meat,
And with much gazing on her face

Dost not rise hungry from the place,
Know this,

Thou lovest amiss,

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If by this thou dost discover

That thou art no perfect lover,