Bulchevy's Book of English Verse Part 27

cypres] c.r.a.pe.

William Shakespeare. 1564-1616

135. Under the Greenwood Tree

Amiens sings: UNDER the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.

Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats, And pleased with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.

Jaques replies: If it do come to pa.s.s That any man turn a.s.s, Leaving his wealth and ease A stubborn will to please, Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame: Here shall he see Gross fools as he, An if he will come to me.

William Shakespeare. 1564-1616

136. Blow, blow, thou Winter Wind

BLOW, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingrat.i.tude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: Then heigh ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not.

Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: Then heigh ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.

William Shakespeare. 1564-1616

137. It was a Lover and his La.s.s

IT was a lover and his la.s.s, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pa.s.s, In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.

Between the acres of the rye, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, These pretty country folks would lie, In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.

This carol they began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that life was but a flower In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.

And, therefore, take the present time With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, For love is crown`d with the prime In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.

William Shakespeare. 1564-1616

138. Take, O take those Lips away

TAKE, O take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn!

But my kisses bring again, Bring again; Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, Seal'd in vain!

William Shakespeare. 1564-1616

139. Aubade

HARK! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With everything that pretty bin, My lady sweet, arise!

Arise, arise!

William Shakespeare. 1564-1616

140. Fidele

FEAR no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: 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 finish'd 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 renowned be thy grave!

William Shakespeare. 1564-1616

141. Bridal Song ? or John Fletcher.

ROSES, their sharp spines being gone, Not royal in their smells alone, But in their hue; Maiden pinks, of odour faint, Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint, And sweet thyme true;

Primrose, firstborn child of Ver; Merry springtime's harbinger, With her bells dim; Oxlips in their cradles growing, Marigolds on death-beds blowing, Larks'-heels trim;

All dear Nature's children sweet Lie 'fore bride and bridegroom's feet, Blessing their sense!

Not an angel of the air, Bird melodious or bird fair, Be absent hence!

The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor The boding raven, nor chough h.o.a.r, Nor chattering pye, May on our bride-house perch or sing, Or with them any discord bring, But from it fly!

William Shakespeare. 1564-1616

142. Dirge of the Three Queens ? or John Fletcher.

URNS and odours bring away!

Vapours, sighs, darken the day!

Our dole more deadly looks than dying; Balms and gums and heavy cheers, Sacred vials fill'd with tears, And clamours through the wild air flying!

Come, all sad and solemn shows, That are quick-eyed Pleasure's foes!

We convent naught else but woes.

dole] lamentation. convent] summon.