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MORTALITY, behold and fear!

What a change of flesh is here!

Think how many royal bones

Sleep within this heap of stones;

Here they lie had realms and lands,

Who now want strength to stir their hands;
Where from their pulpits sealed with dust
They preach, "In greatness is no trust".
Here's an acre sown indeed

With the richest royal'st seed

That the earth did e'er suck in,
Since the first man died for sin:

Here the bones of birth have cried,

"Though gods they were, as men they died":

Here are sands, ignoble things,

Dropt from the ruined sides of kings:
Here's a world of pomp and state,

Buried in dust, once dead by fate.

JOHN FLETCHER.

(1579–1625.)

OR, BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

Dyce's is the standard modern edition of the works of Beaumont and Fletcher. Most of the lyrics occur in plays in which Beaumont doubtless had no share.

SWEETEST MELANCHOLY.

From the Nice Valour, in the folio of 1647 (acted 1613?). Compare Burton's verses introductory to his Anatomy of Melancholy, and Milton's Il Penseroso.

HENCE, all you vain delights,

As short as are the nights

Wherein you spend your folly!

There's nought in this life sweet.
If man were wise to see 't,

But only melancholy;

O sweetest melancholy!

Welcome, folded arms and fixèd eyes,
A sigh that piercing mortifies,
A look that's fastened to the ground,
A tongue chained up without a sound!
Fountain heads and pathless groves,
Places which pale passion loves!
Moonlight walks, when all the fowls
Are warmly housed save bats and owls!

A midnight bell, a parting groan,

These are the sounds we feed upon;

Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley;
Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.

LOVE'S EMBLEMS.

From Valentinian, 1647 (acted 1616?).

NOW the lusty spring is seen;

Golden yellow, gaudy blue,
Daintily invite the view,
Everywhere on every green,
Roses blushing as they blow,

And enticing men to pull,
Lilies whiter than the snow,

Woodbines of sweet honey full:
All love's emblems, and all cry,
"Ladies, if not plucked, we die”.

Yet the lusty spring hath stayed;
Blushing red and purest white
Daintily to love invite

Every woman, every maid.
Cherries kissing as they grow,

And inviting men to taste,

Apples even ripe below,

Winding gently to the waist:
All love's emblems, and all cry,
"Ladies, if not plucked, we die".

INVOCATION TO SLEEP.

From Valentinian.

CARE-CHARMING Sleep, thou easer of all woes,

Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose

On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud
In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud
Or painful to his slumbers;-easy, sweet,
And as a purling stream, thou son of Night,

Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain; Into this prince gently, oh, gently slide, And kiss him into slumbers like a bride!

SONG TO BACCHUS.

From Valentinian.

OD Lyæus, ever young,

GOD

Ever honoured, ever sung;
Stained with blood of lusty grapes,
In a thousand lusty shapes,
Dance upon the mazer's brim,
In the crimson liquor swim;
From thy plenteous hand divine
Let a river run with wine;
God of youth, let this day here
Enter neither care nor fear!

DRINK TO-DAY.

From the Bloody Brother, 1640 (acted 1616?).

DRINK to-day, and drown all sorrow;

You shall perhaps not do it to-morrow: Best, while you have it, use your breath; There is no drinking after death.

Wine works the heart up, wakes the wit,
There is no cure 'gainst age but it:

It helps the headache, cough, and phthisic,
And is for all diseases physic.

Then let us swill, boys, for our health;

Who drinks well, loves the commonwealth.

And he that will to bed go

sober

Falls with the leaf still in October.

BEAUTY CLEAR AND FAIR.

From the Elder Brother, 1637 (acted 1625?).

BEAUTY clear and fair,

Where the air

Rather like a perfume dwells;

Where the violet and the rose

Their blue veins and blush disclose,

And come to honour nothing else.

Where to live near,

And planted there,

Is to live, and still live new;
Where to gain a favour is

More than light, perpetual bliss,-
Make me live by serving you.

Dear, again back recall
To this light,

A stranger to himself and all;

Both the wonder and the story Shall be yours, and eke the glory: I am your servant, and your thrall.

THE CHARM.

From the Little French Lawyer, 1647 (acted 1620?).

THIS way, this way come, and hear,

You that hold these pleasures dear; Fill your ears with our sweet sound, Whilst we melt the frozen ground. This way come; make haste, O fair! Let your clear eyes gild the air; Come, and bless us with your sight; This way, this way, seek delight!