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THE FAIRIES FAREWELL.
FAREWELL, rewards and Fairies!
Good housewives now may say;
For now foule sluts in dairies
Doe fare as well as they;
And though they sweepe their hearths no less
Than mayds were wont to doe,
Yet who of late for cleaneliness
Finds six-pence in her shoe?
Lament, lament, old Abbies,
The fairies lost command!
They did but change priests babies,
But some have chang'd your land:
And all your children stoln from thence
Are now growne Puritanes,
Who live as changelings ever since,
For love of your demaines.
At morning and at evening both
You merry were and glad,
So little care of sleepe and sloth
These prettie ladies had.
When Tom came home from labour,
Or Ciss to milking rose,
Then merrily went their tabour,
And nimbly went their toes.
Witness those rings and roundelayes
Of theirs, which yet remaine;
Were footed in queen Maries dayes
On many a grassy playne.
But since of late Elizabeth
And later James came in;
They never danc'd on any heath,
As when the time had been.
By which wee note the fairies
Were of the old profession:
Their songs were Ave Maries,
Their dances were procession.
But now, alas! they all are dead,
Or gone beyond the seas,
Or farther for religion fied,
Or else they take their ease.
A tell-tale in their company
They never could endure;
And whoso kept not secretly
Their mirth, was punish'd sure:
It was a just and christian deed
To pinch such blacke and blue:
O how the common-welth doth need
Such justices as you!
Now they have left our quarters;
A Register they have,
Who can preserve their charters;
A man both wise and grave.
An hundred of their merry pranks
By one that I could name
Are kept in store; con twenty thanks
To William for the same.
To William Churne of Staffordshire
Give laud and praises due,
Who every meale can mend your cheare
With tales both old and true;
To William all give audience,
And pray yee for his noddle;
For all the fairies evidence
Were lost, if it were addle.
F the quick spirits in your eye
Now languish, and anon must die;
If every sweet, and every grace,
Must fly from that forsaken face,
Then, Celia, let us reap our joys,
Ere time such goodly fruit destroys.
Or, if that golden fleece must grow
For ever, free from aged snow;
If those bright suns must know no shade,
Nor your fresh beauties ever fade,
Then fear not, Celia, to bestow
What still being gather'd, still must grow.
Thus, either Time his sickle brings
In vain, or else in vain his wings.
E that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires; r
As old time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and stedfast mind,
Gentle thoughts, and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love combin'd,
Kindle never-dying fires;
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.
SK me why I send you here,
This firstling of the winter year;
Ask me why I send to you
This primrose, all bepearl'd with dew;
I straight will whisper in your ears,
The sweets of love are wash'd with tears.
Ask me why this flow'r doth shew
So yellow, green, and sickly too,
Ask me why the stalk is weak
And bending, yet it doth not break;
I must tell you, these discover
What doubts and fears are in a lover.
AMONGST the myrtles as I walked,
Love and my sighs thus intertalked : "Tell me (said I, in deep distress) "Where may I find my shepherdess?"
"Thou fool (said Love), know'st thou not this, "In every thing that's good she is? "In yonder tulip go and seek,
"There may'st thou find her lip, her cheek:
"In yon enamell'd pansy by,
"There thou shalt have her curious eye;
"In bloomy peach, in rosy bud,
"There wave the streamers of her blood."
"Tis true," said I; and thereupon I went to pluck them one by one, "To make of parts a union;
But, on a sudden, all was gone,
With that I stopt; said Love," These be, "Fond man, resemblances of thee.
"And, as these flow'rs, thy joys shall die, "Ev'n in the twinkling of an eye:
"And all thy hopes of her shall wither "Like those short sweets thus knit together."
UNGRATEFUL BEAUTY THREATENED.
KNOW, Celia (since thou art so proud)
"Twas I that gave thee thy renown; Thou hadst, in the forgotten crowd
Of common beauties, liv'd unknown,
Had not my verse exhal'd thy name,
And with it impt the wings of fame.
That killing power is none of thine,
I gave it to thy voice and eyes;
Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine;
Thou art my star, shin'st in my skies:
Then dart not from thy borrow'd sphere
Lightning on him that fix'd thee there.
Tempt me with such affrights no more,
Lest what I made I uncreate,
Let fools thy mystic forms adore,
I'll know thee in thy mortal state.
Wise poets, that wrap truth in tales,
Know her themselves through all her veils.
NOW that the Winter's gone, the Earth hath lost Her snow-white robes; and now no more the
Candies the grass, or casts an icy cream
Upon the silver lake, or crystal stream:
But the warm Sun thaws the benumbed earth,
And makes it tender; gives a second birth
To the dead swallow; wakes in hollow tree
The drowsy cuckoo, and the humble bee.
Now, do a choir of Chirping Minstrels bring
In triumph to the world the youthful Spring;
The valleys, hills and woods, in rich array,.
Welcome the Morning of the longed-for May.
Now all things smile! only my Love doth lour!
Nor hath the scalding noon-day sun the pow'ri