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,

And desiring to love true,

Thou dost begin to love anew,
Know this,

Thou lovest amiss,

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

CII.

RICHARD CRASHAW,

1612-1649.

H

ON THE ASSUMPTION.

ARK! she is called, the parting hour is come;

Take thy farewell, poor world! Heaven must go home.

A piece of heavenly earth; purer and brighter

Than the chaste stars, whose choice lamps come to light her,

Whil'st through the crystal orbs, clearer than they,

She climbs; and makes a far more milky way.
She's called. Hark how the dear immortal dove
Sighs to his silver mate, 'Rise up,' my love,
Rise up, my fair, my spotless one,
The winter's past, the rain is gone;
The spring is come, the flowers appear,
No sweets, save thou, are wanting here.
Come away, my love,

Come away, my dove,

Cast off delay;

The court of heaven is come

To wait upon thee home;

Come, come away!

The flowers appear,

Or quickly would, wert thou once here.
The spring is come, or if it stay

'Tis to keep time with thy delay.

The rain is gone, except so much as we

Detain in needful tears to weep the want of thee. The winter's past,

Or if he make less haste,

His answer is, Why, she does so ;

If summer come not, how can winter go?
Come away, come away!

The shrill winds chide, the waters weep thy stay,
The fountains murmur, and each loftiest tree
Bows lowest his leafy top to look for thee.
Come away, my love,

Come away, my dove,

Cast off delay;

The court of heaven is come

To wait upon thee home;

Come, come away.

She's called again. And will she go?
When heaven bids come, who can say no?
Heaven calls her, and she must away,
Heaven will not, and she cannot stay.
Go then; go, glorious on the golden wings
Of the bright youth of heaven, that sings

Since thy dread son will have it so.

And while thou goest, our song and we
Will, as we may, reach after thee.

Hail, holy queen of humble hearts!

We in thy praise will have our parts.

And though thy dearest looks must now give light To none but the blest heavens, whose bright Beholders, lost in sweet delight,

Feed for ever their fair sight

With those divinest eyes, which we

And our dark world no more shall see ;

Though our poor eyes are parted so,
Yet shall our lips never let go
Thy gracious name, but to the last
Our loving song shall hold it fast.
Thy precious name shall be
Thyself to us, and we

With holy care will keep it by us.

We to the last

Will hold it fast,

And no Assumption shall deny us.

All the sweetest showers

Of our fairest flowers

Will we strow upon it.

Though our sweets cannot make

It sweeter, they can take