Seek thy salve while sore is green, Fester'd wounds ask deeper lancing; After-cures are seldom seen, Often sought, scarce ever chancing : Time and place give best advice, Out of season, out of price. PANGLORY'S WOOING SONG. GILES FLETCHER, born 1588, died 1623. LOVE is the blossom where there blows, Not all the skill his wounds can stanch. While in his leaves there shrouded lay Sweet birds, for love that sing and play; And of all love's joyful flame I the bud and blossom am. Only lend thy knee to me, Thy wooing shall thy winning be! See, see, the flowers that below Now freshly as the morning blow, And of all, the virgin rose, That as bright Aurora shows; How they all unleaved die Losing their virginity: Like unto a summer shade, But now born, and now they fade, Every thing doth pass away; There is danger in delay. THE COMMENDATION OF MUSIC. WHEN Whispering strains do softly steal Our pulses beat, and bear a part; When threads can make A heart-string quake ;— Can scarce deny, The soul consists of harmony. Oh, lull me, lull me, charming air, Soft like a spirit's are thy feet. Grief, who need fear That hath an ear? Down let him lie, And slumbering die, And change his soul for harmony. From a Miscellany, entitled "Wit Restored," 12mo. published 1658. SWEET DAY, SO COOL. GEORGE HERBERT, born 1593, died 1632. SWEET Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night,— Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die! Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, And all must die! Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like season'd timber, never gives, But when the whole world turns to coal, TO ALTHEA, FROM PRISON. RICHARD LOVELACE, born 1618, died 1658. WHEN love with unconfined wings To whisper at my grates; When I lie tangled in her hair, And fetter'd to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air, When flowing cups run swiftly round, When healths and draughts are free,~ Fishes that tipple in the deep, Know no such liberty. When linnet-like, confined, I When I shall voice aloud how good Stone walls do not a prison make, If I have freedom in my love, Angels alone, that soar above, This song to Althea will live as long as the English language.-ROBERT SOUTHEY. HOPE. From ALISON's "Hour's Recreations in Music," 1606. IN hope a king doth go to war; In hope a lover lives full long; In hope a merchant sails full far; In hope just men do suffer wrong ; Or like the sun, or like the shade, Like to the grass that 's newly sprung, E'en such is man ;-who lives by breath, HASTE THEE, NYMPH. JOHN MILTON. HASTE thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Ha ha ha! ha! The music of this song was composed by Handel for the Oratorio of "Comus," and pted to this purpose from the beautiful poem of "L'Allegro." |