LXVII. THE PASSIONATE LORD'S SONG. HENCE, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly! But only melancholy; Oh! sweetest melancholy. Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes, A sigh that piercing mortifies, A look that's fastened to the ground, Fountain heads, and pathless groves, Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley; LXVIII. L ASPATIA'S SONG. AY a garland on my hearse, Maidens, willow branches bear; Say I died true; My love was false, but I was firm Lightly, gentle earth! LXIX. THOMAS MIDDLETON, 1580?-1627. L HIPPOLITO'S SONG. OVE is like a lamb, and love is like a lion; Fly from love, he fights; fight, then does he fly on. Love is all on fire, and yet is ever freezing; Love is much in winning, yet is more in leesing; Love is ever true, and yet is ever lying; Love does dote in liking, and is mad in loathing; LXX. A HYMN. DROP, drop, slow tears, PHINEAS FLETCHER, 1581-1650. And bathe those beauteous feet, Which brought from heaven The news and Prince of peace: Cease not, wet eyes, His mercies to entreat; To cry for vengeance Sin doth never cease: In your deep floods Drown all my faults and fears; LXXI. THOMAS CAREW, 1589 ?-1639. A SONG. SK me no more where Jove bestows, Ask me no more whither do stray Ask me no more whither doth haste Ask me no more where those stars light |