Leaving mortal company,

In the cool streams shalt thou lie,
Free from harm as well as I :
I will give thee for thy food
No fish that useth in the mud;

But trout and pike, that love to swim
Where the gravel from the brim
Through the pure streams may be seen :
Orient pearl fit for a queen

Will I give, thy love to win,

And a shell to keep them in ;
Not a fish in all my brook
That shall disobey thy look,

But, when thou wilt, come sliding by,
And from thy white hand take a fly :
And to make thee understand

How I can my waves command,
They shall bubble whilst I sing,

Sweeter than the silver string.

The Song.

Do not fear to put thy feet

Naked in the river sweet;

Think not leech, or newt, or toad,

Will bite thy foot, when thou hast trod ;

Nor let the water rising high,

As thou wad'st in, make thee cry
And sob; but ever live with me,
And not a wave shall trouble thee!

TO PAN.

ALL ye woods, and trees, and bowers,

All ye virtues and ye powers

That inhabit in the lakes,

In the pleasant springs or brakes,
Move your feet

To our sound,

Whilst we greet

All this ground

With his honour and his name
That defends our flocks from blame.

He is great, and he is just,

He is ever good, and must
Thus be honoured. Daffadillies,
Roses, pinks, and loved lilies,
Let us fling,

Whilst we sing,
Ever holy,

Ever holy,

Ever honoured, ever young!

Thus great Pan is ever sung.

THE SATYR'S LEAVE-TAKING.

HOU divinest, fairest, brightest,

THO

Thou most powerful maid, and whitest,

Thou most virtuous and most blessed,

Eyes of stars, and golden-tressed

Like Apollo! tell me, sweetest,

What new service now is meetest

For the Satyr? Shall I stray

In the middle air, and stay

The sailing rack, or nimbly take

Hold by the moon, and gently make

Suit to the pale queen of night

For a beam to give thee light?
Shall I dive into the sea,
And bring thee coral, making way
Through the rising waves that fall
In snowy fleeces? Dearest, shall
I catch thee wanton fawns, or flies
Whose woven wings the summer dyes
Of many colours? get thee fruit,

Or steal from Heaven old Orpheus' lute?
All these I'll venture for, and more,
To do her service all these woods adore.

Holy virgin, I will dance

Round about these woods as quick
As the breaking light, and prick'
Down the lawns and down the vales
Faster than the wind-mill sails.
So I take my leave, and pray
All the comforts of the day,
Such as Phoebus' heat doth send
On the earth, may still befriend
Thee and this arbour !

1 Speed.

From JOHN FLETCHER'S The
Captain, 1647.1

TELL ME, DEAREST, WHAT IS LOVE?

'ELL me, dearest, what is love?

TELL

'Tis a lightning from above;

'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire,

'Tis a boy they call Desire.

'Tis a grave,
Gapes to have

Those poor fools that long to prove.

Tell me more, are women true?
Yes, some are, and some as you.

Some are willing, some are strange,2
Since you men first taught to change.
And till troth

Be in both,

All shall love, to love anew.

Tell me more yet, can they grieve?

Yes, and sicken sore, but live,

And be wise, and delay,

When you men are as wise as they.

Then I see,

Faith will be,

Never till they both believe.

1 Produced in 1613.-The play is mainly by Fletcher, but a second author's hand is distinguishable. (We find the first two stanzas of the song, with variations, in The Knight of the Burning Pestle.)

2 Coy.

I

FAREWELL, FALSE LOVE!

AWAY, delights! go seek some other dwelling,

For I must die.

Farewell, false love! thy tongue is ever telling
Lie after lie.

For ever let me rest now from thy smarts;
Alas, for pity, go,

And fire their hearts

That have been hard to thee! mine was not so.

Never again deluding love shall know me,
For I will die;

And all those griefs that think to overgrow me,
Shall be as I :

For ever will I sleep, while poor maids cry, “Alas, for pity, stay,

And let us die

With thee! men cannot mock us in the clay.”