THE LULLABY OF A LOVER. SING lullabies, as women do, With which they charm their babes to reft; And lullaby can I fing too, As womanly as can the best. With lullaby they ftill the child ; And, if I be not much beguil'd, Full many wanton babes have I, Which must be ftill'd with lullaby. First lullaby my youthful years: Have wore the haven within mine head. With lullaby then youth be ftill, With lullaby content thy will; Since courage quails, and comes behind, Next, lullaby my gazing eyes, Which wonted were to glance apace ; For ev'ry glass may now fuffice. And lullaby, my wanton will, Let reafon's rule now rein thy thought, Since all too late I find by skill, How dear I have thy fancies bought; With lullaby now take thine ease, With lullaby thy doubt appease; For, truft in this, if thou be ftill, My body shall obey thy will. Thus lullaby my youth, mine eyes, But, welcome pain, let pleasure pass. With lullaby now take your leave, With lullaby your dreams deceive, And, when you rife with waking eye, Remember then this lullaby. I THE DOLE OF DESPAIR, WRITTEN BY A LOVER Difdainfully rejected, contrary to former Promises. MUST alledge, and thou canst tell How faithfully I vow'd to ferve: And how thou feem'dft to like me well; And how thou faidft I did deserve To be thy Lord, thy Knight, thy King, And how much more I lift not fing. E And canft thou now, thou cruel one, Condemn defert to deep despair? Is all thy promise paft and gone? Is faith fo fled into the air? If Creffid's name were not so known, For hault difdain, you might be she; And in reward of thy desert, I hope at last to see thee paid With deep repentance for thy part Which thou haft now fo lewdly play'd; Medoro, he must be thy make, Since thou Orlando doft forfake. WILLIAM SHAKESPEAR. SONG. BLOW, blow thou Winter-wind, Thou art not fo unkind As man's ingratitude : Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky, As friend remember'd not. SONNET. ON a day, (alack the day!) Love, whofe month is ever May, Playing in the wanton air. Through the velvet leaves the wind That the lover, fick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. Air (quoth he) thy cheeks may blow ;- Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn, Vow, alack! for youth unmeet, That I am forfworn for thee; Thou, for whom ev'n Jove would fwear Juno but an Æthiop were; And deny himself for Jove, WH SPRING, A SONG. HEN daifies pied and violets blue, Do paint the meadows with delight, Cuckow! cuckow! O word of fear, When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks and daws, And maidens bleach their fummer fmocks; The cuckow then on every tree Mocks married men, for thus fings he; Cuckow! Cuckow! Cuckow! O word of fear, Unpleafing to a married ear. |