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My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming.
And stops her pipe, in growth of riper days.
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night: But that wild music burthens every bough;
And sweets grown common, lose their dear delight.
Therefore, like her, I some time hold my tongue;
THE forward Violet thus did I chide,
'Sweet thief! whence didst thou steal thy sweet that If not from my Love's breath? The purple pride Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells, In my Love's veins, thou hast too grossly dyed!'
The Lily, I condemnèd for thy hand;
A third, nor red, nor white, had stolen of both; And to his robb'ry had annexed thy breath!
But for his theft, in pride of all his growth,
More flowers I noted; yet I none could see,
HARK! Hark! The lark at heaven's gate sings!
His steeds to water at those springs;
On chaliced flowers that lies.
And winking mary-buds begin to ope their golden eyes; With every thing that pretty is! My Lady sweet, arise! Arise! arise!
How should I, your True Love know
By his cockle hat and staff;
He is dead and gone, Lady!
White his shroud as the mountain snow,
JOG on! jog on the foot-path way;
WHO is SILVIA? What is she,
The heaven, such grace did lend her;
For beauty lives with kindness! LOVE doth to her eyes repair,
To help him of his blindness; And, being helped, inhabits there! Then to SILVIA, let us sing,
'That SILVIA is excelling!' She excels each mortal thing,
Upon the dull earth dwelling! To her, let us garlands bring!
THE FAIRIES' SONG:
You spotted snakes with double tongue, Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen! Newts, and blind-worms, do no wrong! Come not near our Fairy Queen! PHILOMEL, with melody,
Sing, in [y]our sweet lullaby,
Lulla, lulla, lullaby! Lulla, lulla, lullaby!
Nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely Lady nigh!
IST FAIRY. Weaving spiders, come not here!
2ND FAIRY. Hence, away! Now, all is well! One aloof, stand sentinel!
SIGH no more, Ladies! sigh no more!
One foot in sea, and one on shore;
And be you blithe and bonny!
Sing no more Ditties! Sing no mo,
THAT time of year, thou mayst in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
As, after sunset, fadeth in the West;
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.
NOT marble, nor the gilded monument
Of Princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme!
And broils root out the work of masonry;
Nor MARS his sword, nor war's quick fire, shall burn
'Gainst death, and all oblivious enmity;
Shall you pace forth! Your praise shall still find room! Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out, to the ending Doom.
So till the Judgement that yourself arise,