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0, up then started our gudeman,

For swelling waves our panting breasts,

Where never storms arise, And an angry man was he: “Will ye kiss my wife before my een,

Exchange ; and be awhile our guests:
And scaud me wi' puddin' bree?"

For stars, gaze on our eyes.
The compass, love shall hourly sing,

And, as he goes about the ring,
Then up and started our gudewife,

We will not miss Gied three skips on the floor :

To tell each point he nameth with a kiss. “Gudeman, ye 've spoken the foremost

word, Get up and bar the door!"

SONG.

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I do confess thou 'rt smooth and fair, Pack clouds away, and welcome day, And I might have gone near to love

With night we banish sorrow; thee,

Sweet air, blow soft; mount, larks, aloit, Had I not found the lightest prayer

To give my love good-morrow. That lips could speak, had power to Wings from the wind to please her mine, move thee:

Notes from the lark I 'il borrow; But I can let thee now alone,

Bird, prune thy wing; nightingale, sing, As worthy to be loved by none.

To give my love good-morrow. I do confess thou 'rt sweet; yet find Wake from thy nest, robin redbreast;

Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets, Sing, birds, in every surrow; Thy favors are but like the wind,

And from each hill let music shrill That kisses everything it meets;

Give my fair love good-morrow. And since thou canst with more than one,

Blackbirii and thrush in every bush, Thou 'rt worthy to be kissed by none.

Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow;

You pretty elves, among yourselves, The morning rose that untouched stands Sing my fair love good-morrow. Armed with her briers, how sweetly

smells ! But plucked and strained through ruder

SEARCH AFTER GOD. hands, No inore her sweetness with her dwells, I sought thee round about, O thou my But scent and beauty both are gone,

God! And leaves fall from her, one by one.

In thine abode.

I said unto the earth, “Speak, art thou Such fate, erelong, will thee betide,

he?" When thou hast handled been

She answered me, awhile,

“I am not." I inquired of creatures all, Like sere flowers to he thrown aside:

In general, And I will sigh, while some will smile, Contained therein. They with one voice To see thy love for more than one

proclaim Hath brought thee to be loved by none. That none amongst them challenged such

a name.

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Offended with my question, in full choir, | I answered : The all-potent, sole, imAnswered, “ To find thy God thou must

mense, look higher."

Surpassing sense;

Unspeakable, inscrutable, eternal, I asked the heavens, sun, moon, and

Lord over all; stars; but they

The only terrible, strong, just, and true, Said, “ We obey

Who hath no end, and no beginning The God thou seekest." I asked what

knew.
eye or ear
Could see or hear,-

He is the well of life, for he doth give What in the world I might descry or

To all that live know

Both breath and being; he is the Creatoi Above, below;

Both of the water, With an unanimous voice, all these things Earth, air, and fire. Of all things that said,

subsist

He hath the list, “We are not God, but we by him were made."

Of all the heavenly host, or what earth

claims, I asked the worll's great universal mass He keeps the scroll, and calls them by If that God was;

their names. Which with a mighty and strong voice replied,

And now, my God, by thine illumining

grace,
As stupefied,
I am not he, o man! for know that I

Thy glorious face
By him on high

(So far forth as it may discovered be)

Methinks I see; Was fashioned first of nothing ; thus

And though invisible and infinite, instated

To human sight And swayed by him by whom I was created."

Thou, in thy mercy, justice, truth, ap

pearest, I sought the court ; but smooth-tongued

In which, to our weak sense, thou comest

nearest.
flattery there
Deceived each ear;

0, make us apt to seek and quick to find, In the thronged city there was selling,

Thou, God, most kind! buying,

Give us love, hope, and faith, in thee to Swearing, and lying;

trust, l' the country, craft in simpleness ar

Thou, God, most just!
rayed,

Remit all our offences, we entreat,
And then I said,

Most good! most great! “ Vain is my search, although my pains Grant that our willing, thongh unworthy be great ;

quest Where my God is there can be no deceit."

May, through thy grace, admit

’mongst the blest. A scrutiny within myself I then

Even thus began : "O man, what art thou ?”

What more
could I say
Than dust and clay,

HENRY KING.
Frail, mortal, fading, a mere puff, a blast,
That cannot last;

(1591 – 1669.)
Enthroned to-day, to-morrow in an urn,
Formed from that earth to which I must

SIC VITA. return?

LIKE to the falling of a star, I asked myself what this great God might Or as the flights of eagles are; be

Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue, That fashioned me,

Or silver drops of morning dew;

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Or like a wind that chafes the flood, MARQUIS OF MONTROSE.
Or bubbles which on water stood :
Even such is man, whose borrowed light

[1612 - 1650.]
Is straight called in, and paid to-night.
The wind blows out, the bubble dies; I'LL NEVER LOVE THEE MORE
The spring entombed in autumn lies;
The dew dries up, the star is shot; My dear and only love, I pray
The flight is past, – and man forgot.

That little world of thee
Be governed by no other sway

But purest monarchy:

For if confusion have a part,
ELEGY.

Which virtuous souls abhor,

I'll call a synod in my heart,
SLEEP on, my love, in thy cold bed,

And never love thee more.
Never to be disquieted !
My last good night! Thou wilt not wake As Alexander I will reigr.,
Till I thy fate shall overtake;

And I will reign alone;
Till age, or grief, or sickness must My thoughts did evermore disdain
Marry my body to that dust

A rival on my throne.
It so much loves, and fill the room He either fears his fate too much,
My heart keeps empty in thy tomb.

Or his deserts are small,

Who dares not put it to the touch,
Stay for me there! I will not fail

To gain or lose it all.
To meet thee in that hollow vale.
And think not much of my delay:
I am already on the way,
And follow thee with all the speed
Desire can make, or sorrow breed.

JAMES SHIRLEY.
Each minute is a short degree,
And every hour a step towards thee.

(1596 - 1666.)
At night, when I betake to rest,
Next morn I rise nearer my west

DEATH THE LEVELLER.
Of life, almost by eight hours' sail,
Than when sleep breathed his drowsygale. Tue glories of our blood and state
Thus from the sun my vessel steers, Are shadows, not substantial things;
And my day's compass downward bears : There is no armor against fate;
Nor labor I to stem the tide

Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Through which to thee I swiftly glide.

Sceptre and crown

Must tumble down, 'T is true, with shame and grief I yield, And in the dust be equal made Thou, like the van, first took'st the field, With the poor crooked scythe and spade. And gotten hast the victory, In thus adventuring to die

Some men with swords may reap the field, Before me, whose more years might crave And plant fresh laurels where they A just precedence in the grave.

kill; But hark ! my pulse, like a soft drum, But their strong nerves at last must yield; Beats my approach, tells thee I come: They tame but one another still: And slow howe'er my marches be,

Early or late I shall at last sit down by thee.

They stoop to fate,

And must give up their murmuring breath The thought of this bids me go on,

When they, pale captives, creep to death. And wait my dissolution With hope and comfort. Dear, forgive the garlands wither on your brow; The crime, - I am content to live

Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; Divided, with but half a heart,

Upon Death's purple altar now Till we shall meet, and never part.

See where the victor-victim bleeds :

SIR THOMAS BROWNE.

RICHARD CRASHAW'.

29

Your heads must come

To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust.

EDWARD HERBERT, (EARL OF

CHERBURY.)

Whilst I do rest, my soul ailvance;
Make my sleep a holy trance :
That I may, my rest being wronght,
Awake into some holy thought,
And with as active vigor run
My course, as doth the nimble sun.
Sleep is a deatlı; 0, make me try;
By sleeping, what it is to die:
And as gently lay my head
On my grave as now my bed.
Howe'er I rest, great God, let me
Awake again at last with thee.
And thus assured, behold I lie
Securely, or to wake or die.
These are my drowsy days; in vain
I do now wake sleep again :
0, come that hour when I shall never
Sleep thus again, but wake forever.

(1581 - 1648.]

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RICHARD CRASHAW.

CELINDA. Walking thus towards a pleasant grove, Which did, it seemed, in new delight The pleasures of the tine unite To give a triumph to their love, They stayed at last, and on the grass Reposéd so as o'er his breast She bowed her gracious head to rest, Such a weight as no burden was. Long their fixed eyes to heaven bent, Unchangéd they did never move, As if so great and pure a love No glass but it could represent.

* These eyes again thine eyes shall see, Thy hands again these hands infold, And all chaste pleasures can be told, Shall with us everlasting be. Let then no doubt, Celinda, touch, Much less your fairest mind invade; Were not our souls immortal made, Our equal loves can make them such."

[1605 - 1650.]

WISHES.

Whoe'er she be,
That not impossible She
That shall command my heart and me;

Where'er she lie,
Locked up from mortal eye
In shady leaves of destiny,

Till that ripe birth
Of studied Fate stand forth,
And teach her fair steps to our earth;

SIR THOMAS BROWNE.

(1605 - 1682.)

EVENING HYMN.

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The night is come; like to the day,
Depart not thou, great God, away.
Let not my sins, black as the night,
Eclipse the lustre of thy light.
Keep in my horizon : for to me
The sun makes not the day, but thee.
Thon whose nature cannot sleep,
On my temples sentry keep:
Guard me 'gainst those watchful foes,
Whose eyes are open while mine close.
Let no dreams my head infest
But such as Jacob's temples blest.

I wish her beauty
That owes not all its duty
To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie:
Something more than
Taffeta or tissue can,
Or rampant feather, or rich fan.

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