In sweet music is such art,
Killing care and grief of heart

Fall asleep, or hearing, die.

XL.

SERENADE.

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 every thing that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise.

XLI.

A DIRGE.

EAR no more the heat o' the sun,

FEA

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 finished 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!

XLII.

YOUTH AND AGE.

RABBED age and youth cannot live together: Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather; Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare. Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short;

Youth is nimble, age is lame;

Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold;
Youth is wild, and age is tame.

Age, I do abhor thee; youth, I do adore thee ;
O! my love, my love is young.

Age, I do defy thee: O! sweet shepherd, hie thee,
For methinks thou stayest too long.

XLIII.

SIR HENRY WOTTON, 1568-1639.

THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE.

H

OW happy is he born and taught,

That serveth not another's will;

Whose armour is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill!

Whose passions not his masters are ;
Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Untied unto the world by care

Of public fame, or private breath;

Who envies none that chance doth raise,
Nor vice; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise;
Nor rules of state, but rules of good ;

Who hath his life from rumours freed;
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;

Whose state can neither flatterers feed,

Nor ruin make oppressors great :

Who God doth late and early pray More of his grace than gifts to lend; And entertains the harmless day

With a religious book or friend.

This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands;

And having nothing, yet hath all.