Against foul fiends to aid us militant! They for us fight, they watch and duly ward, And their bright squadrons round about us plant; O! why should heavenly God to men have such regard? THE BOWER OF BLISS. EFTSOONES they heard a most melodious sound Birds, voices, instruments, winds, waters, all agree. The joyous birds, shrouded in cheerful shade, EPITHALAMION. WAKE now, my love, awake! for it is time; And Phoebus 'gins to show his glorious head. The merry lark her matins sings aloft ; The thrush replies; the mavis descant plays ; The ouzel shrills; the ruddock warbles soft; So goodly all agree, with sweet consent, Ah! my dear love, why do ye sleep thus long, For they of joy and pleasance to you sing, That all the woods them answer, and their echo ring. My love is now awake out of her dreams, * And her fair eyes, like stars that dimmed were With darksome cloud, now show their goodly beams, But first come ye fair hours, which were begot, Do make and still repair. And ye three handmaids of the Cyprian Queen Help to adorn my beautifullest bride : And as ye her array, still throw between Some graces to be seen; And, as ye use to Venus, to her sing, The whiles the woods shall answer, and your echo ring. Lo! where she comes along with portly pace, Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best. So well it her beseems, that ye would ween Some angel she had been. Her long loose yellow locks like golden wire, * Sprinkled with pearl, and pearling flowers between, Do like a golden mantle her attire. And, being crowned with a garland green, Seem like some maiden queen. Her modest eyes abashed to behold, So many gazers as on her do stare, Upon the lowly ground affixed are; Nor dare lift up her countenance too bold, But blush to hear her praises sung so loud, Natheless do ye still loud her praises sing, That all the woods may answer, and your echo ring. But if ye saw that which no eyes can see, * Garnished with heavenly gifts of high degree, There dwells sweet love, and constant chastity, The which the base affections do obey, And yield their services unto her will; Then would ye wonder, and her praises sing, Open the temple gates unto my love, Open them wide that she may enter in, With trembling steps, and humble reverence, Of her, ye virgins, learn obedience, To humble your proud faces : Bring her up to th' high altar, that she may The choristers the joyous anthem sing, That all the woods may answer, and their echo ring. That even the angels which continually Forget their service and about her fly, Oft peeping in her face, that seems more fair, But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground, That suffers not one look to glance astray, Which may let in a little thought unsound. Why blush ye, love, to give to me your hand, Sing, ye sweet angels, Alleluia sing, That all the woods may answer, and your echo ring. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. Born 1564. Died 1616. SPEECH OF ULYSSES TO ACHILLES. TIME hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes : Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devoured As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright to have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Take the instant way; Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path; That one by one pursue: if you give way, Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank, Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, O'errun and trampled on : then what they do in present, Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours; For time is like a fashionable host That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, More laud than gilt o'erdusted. Troilus and Cressida, Act iii. Sc. 3. MERCY. THE quality of mercy is not strained; Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's |