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SONG OF FAIRIES.

Now the hungry lion roars,

And the wolf behowls the moon, Whilft the heavy ploughman fnores, All with weary task foredone. Now the wafted brands do glow;

Whilft the fcritch-owl, fcritching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night

That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his spright,
In the churchway paths to glide;
And we Fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecat's team,
From the presence of the fun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic. Not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house;
I am fent with broom before

To sweep the duft behind the door.

SONG.

SIGH no more, ladies, figh no more;

Men were deceivers ever.

One foot on fea, and one on fhore,

To one thing constant never,

Then figh not fo,

But let them go,

And be you blythe and bonny; Converting all your founds of woe Into, Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, fing no mo
Of dumps fo dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever fo,
Since fummer first was leavy.
Then figh not fo, &c.

WINTER, A SONG,

WHEN icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail ; When blood is nipt, and ways be foul, Then nightly fings the staring owl, Tu-whit! tu-whoo!

A merry note,

While greafy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parfon's faw,
And birds fit brooding in the fnow,

And Marian's nofe looks red and raw;

When roafted crabs hifs in the bowl,
Then nightly fings the staring owl,
Tu-whit! tu-whoo!

A merry note,

While greafy Joan doth keel the pot.

A SONG ON FANCY.

TELL me, where is Fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head;
How begot, how nourished ?
Reply, reply.

It is engender'd in the eyes;
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.

Let us all ring Fancy's knell :
I'll begin it. Ding dong bell.

ARIEL'S SONG.

WHERE the bee fucks, there lurk I;

In a cowflip's bell I lie,

There I couch when owls do cry;

On the bat's back I do fly,

After fun-fet merrily;

Merrily, merrily fhall I live now

Under the bloffom that hangs on the bough.

SONG.

COME away, come away death,
And in fad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away breath,

I am flain by a fair cruel maid.
My fhroud of white, ftuck all with yew,
O prepare it ;

My part of death no one so true

Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

On my black coffin let there be ftrown ; Not a friend, not a friend greet

Mypoor corpse,where my bones shall be thrown,

A thousand thousand fighs to fave;

Lay me, O! where

True lover never find my grave,
To weep there!

66

SONG.

WHO is Silvia? what is she,

"That all our fwains commend her ?"

Holy, fair, and wife is fhe,

The heav'ns fuch grace did lend her,

That the might admired be.

"Is fhe kind as she is fair?

"For beauty lives with kindness :" Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness; And, being help'd, inhabits there.

Then to Sylvia let us fing,
That Sylvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling;
To her let us garlands bring.

FEAR

DIRGE.

no more the heat o' th' fun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task haft done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages, Golden lads and girls all muft, As chimney-fweepers, come to duft.

Fear no more the frown o' th' great,
Thou art paft the tyrant's stroke,
Care no more to clothe and eat,
To thee the reed is as the oak.
The fceptre, learning, phyfic, muft
All follow this, and come to duft.

F

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