Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe, and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan:
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renownéd be thy grave.

17

And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,

And weep afresh love's long-since-cancelled woe,

And moan the expense of many a vanished sight.

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,

All losses are restored, and sorrows end.

THAT time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou seest the glowing of such fire,

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

Consumed with that which it was nourished by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave erelong.

THEY that have power to hurt and will do none,

That do not do the thing they most do show,

Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,

Unmovéd, cold, and to temptation slow; They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, And husband nature's riches from ex

pense;

19

Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart

Space to breathe, how short soever:
Thou that makest a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.

ON LUCY, COUNTESS OF BEDFORD.

THIS morning, timely rapt with holy fire, I thought to form unto my zealous Muse, What kind of creature I could most desire, To honor, serve, and love; as poets use, I meant to make her fair, and free, and wise,

Of greatest blood, and yet more good than great;

I meant the day-star should not brighter rise,

Nor lend like influence from his lucent seat.

I meant she should be courteous, facile, sweet, Hating that solemn vice of greatness, pride;

I meant each softest virtue there should

HOW NEAR TO GOOD IS WHAT IS FAIR!

How near to good is what is fair!

Which we no sooner see,

But with the lines and outward air
Our senses taken be.

We wish to see it still, and prove

What ways we may deserve; We court, we praise, we more than love, We are not grieved to serve.

EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH L. H.
WOULDST thou hear what man can say
In a little?— reader, stay!
Underneath this stone doth lie

As much beauty as could die,
Which in life did harbor give
To more virtue than doth live.
If at all she had a fault,
Leave it buried in this vault.
One name was Elizabeth,
The other, let it sleep with death.
Fitter where it died to tell,
Than that it lived at all.

UNKNOWN.

[Before 1649.]

Farewell!

LOVE WILL FIND OUT THE WAY.

OVER the mountains,

And under the waves,

Over the fountains,

And under the graves,
Under floods which are deepest,
Which Neptune obey,
Over rocks which are steepest,
Love will find out the way.

Where there is no place

For the glow-worm to lie, Where there is no place

For the receipt of a fly,

Where the gnat dares not venture,
Lest herself fast she lay,

If Love come he will enter,
And find out the way.

If that he were hidden,

And all men that are, Were strictly forbidden

That place to declare;

Winds that have no abidings, Pitying their delay,

Would come and bring him tidings, And direct him the way.

If the earth should part him,

He would gallop it o'er;
If the seas should o'erthwart him,

He would swim to the shore.
Should his love become a swallow,

Through the air to stray, Love will lend wings to follow, And will find out the way.

There is no striving

To cross his intent,

There is no contriving

His plots to prevent;

But if once the message greet him,
That his true love doth stay,

If death should come and meet him,
Love will find out the way.

UNKNOWN.

[Before 1649.] ·

BEGONE DULL CARE!

BEGONE dull care!

I prithee begone from me: Begone dull care!

Thou and I can never agree. Long while thou hast been tarrying here, And fain thou wouldst me kill; But i' faith, dull care,

Thou never shalt have thy will. Too much care

Will make a young man gray;
Too much care

Will turn an old man to clay.
My wife shall dance, and I will sing,
So merrily pass the day;

For I hold it is the wisest thing,
To drive dull care away.

Hence, dull care,

I'll none of thy company; Hence, dull care,

Thou art no pair for me.

We'll hunt the wild boar through the

wold,

So merrily pass the day;

And then at night, o'er a cheerful bowl, We'll drive dull care away.

BISHOP RICHARD CORBETT.

[1582-1635.]

FAREWELL TO THE FAIRIES.

FAREWELL rewards and fairies!
Good housewifes now may say,
For now foul sluts in dairies
Do fare as well as they.

And though they sweep their hearths no less

Than maids were wont to do; Yet who of late, for cleanliness, Finds sixpence in her shoe?

give a light,

A little before it is day;

So God bless you all, both great and

small,

And send you a joyful May!

The fairies' lost command;

They did but change priests' babies,

But some have changed your land; And all your children sprung from thence Are now grown Puritans;

Who live as changelings ever since,
For love of your domains.

At morning and at evening both,
You merry were and glad,
So little care of sleep or sloth
These pretty ladies had;
When Tom came home from labor,
Or Cis to milking rose,
Then merrily went their tabor,
And nimbly went their toes.

Witness those rings and roundelays
Of theirs, which yet remain,
Were footed in Queen Mary's days
On many a grassy plain;
But since of late Elizabeth,

And later, James came in,
They never danced on any heath
As when the time hath been.

By which we note the fairies
Were of the old profession,
Their songs were Ave-Maries,

Their dances were procession:
But now, alas! they all are dead,
Or gone beyond the seas;
Or farther for religion fled;

Or else they take their ease.

A tell-tale in their company
They never could endure,
And whoso kept not secretly

Their mirth, was punished sure; It was a just and Christian deed, To pinch such black and blue: O, how the commonwealth doth need Such justices as you!

21.

When lads and lasses merry be,

With possets and with junkets fine; Unseen of all the company,

I eat their cakes and sip their wine!
And, to make sport,

I puff and snort:

And out the candles I do blow: The maids I kiss,

They shriek-Who's this?

I answer naught but ho, ho, ho!