Lyrics and Occasional pieces.

(FROM CYNTHIA'S REVELS.)

SLOW, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears:
Yet, slower, yet; O faintly, gentle springs :
List to the heavy part the music bears,

Woe weeps out her division, when she sings.
Droop herbs and flowers,
Fall grief in showers,
Our beauties are not ours;
O, I could still,

Like melting snow upon some craggy hill,
Drop, drop, drop, drop,

Since nature's pride is now a wither'd daffodil.

THE KISS.

(FROM CYNTHIA'S REVELS.)

O, THAT joy so soon should waste !
Or so sweet a bliss
As a kiss

Might not for ever last!

So sugar'd, so melting, so soft, so delicious,
The dew that lies on roses,

When the morn herself discloses,
Is not so precious.
O rather than I would it smother,
Were I to taste such another;
It should be my wishing
That I might die with kissing.

HESPER'S SONG TO CYNTHIA.

(FROM CYNTHIA'S REVELS.)

QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep:

Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess, excellently bright.

Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heav'n to clear, when day did close:

Bless us then with wished sight,
Goddess excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever :
Thou that mak❜st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.

HORACE, HIS DRINKING SONG.
(FROM THE POETASTER.)

SWELL me a bowl with lusty wine,
Till I may see the plump Lyæus swim
Above the brim:

I drink as I would write

In flowing measure filled with flame and sprite.

SONG. TO CELIA.

DRINK to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.

The thirst, that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine:

But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,

Not so much honouring thee, As giving it a hope, that there It could not wither'd be.

But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent'st it back to me :

Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee.