LIX. S it fell upon a day, RICHARD BARNFIELD, 1574-1627. In the merry month of May, Which a grove of myrtles made. Beasts did leap, and birds did sing, Save the nightingale alone. She poor bird, as all forlorn, That to hear her so complain, Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee, Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee. King Pandion he is dead, All thy friends are lapped in lead. Even so poor bird like thee, THOMAS HEYWOOD, LX. 1575?-1650? A MESSAGE TO PHILLIS. YE E little birds that sit and sing And see how Phillis sweetly walks Go pretty birds about her bower, Go tell her through your chirping bills, To her is only known my love, Which from the world is hidden: Go pretty birds and tell her so, See that your notes strain not too low, For still methinks I see her frown, Ye pretty wantons warble. Go tune your voices harmony, And sing I am her lover; LXI. Strain loud and sweet, that every note, O fly, make haste, see, see, she falls Sing round about her rosy bed, That waking she may wonder; Say to her, 'tis her lover true, That sendeth love to you, to you; And when you have heard her kind reply, Return with pleasant warblings. VALERIUS' SONG. ACK clouds away, and welcome day, PACK With night we banish sorrow; Sweet air blow soft, mount lark aloft, To give my love good-morrow. Wings from the wind to please her mind, Notes from the lark I'll borrow; Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing; To give my love good-morrow. To give my love good-morrow, Notes from them all I'll borrow. Wake from thy nest, robin-red-breast, |