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A Night-Piece on Death
A Hymn to Contentment
JOHN PHILLIPS. 1676-1708.
The Splendid Shilling
NICHOLAS ROWE. 1673--1718.
Colin's Complaint.-A Song
THE soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings, With green hath clad the hill, and eke the vale; The nightingale, with feathers new, she sings, The turtle to her mate hath told her tale. Summer is come: for every spray now springs. The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings, The fishes float, with new repaired scale; The adder all her slough away she flings; The swift swallow pursueth the flies small; The busy bee, her honey now she mings, Winter is gone, that was the flower's bale; And thus I see, among these pleasant things, Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs!
GIVE place, ye lovers, here before
That spent your boasts and brags in vain;
My lady's beauty passeth more
The best of yours, I dare well saine,
Than doth the sun the candle light,
Or brightest day the darkest night.
And thereto hath a truth as just,
For what she saith, ye may it trust,
I could rehearse, if that I would,
I know she swore, with raging mind,
Sith Nature thus gave her the praise,
FROM Tuscane came my Lady's worthy race;
Fair Florence was sometime their ancient seat; The Western Isle, whose pleasant shore doth face Wild Camber's cliffs, did give her lively heat; Fostered she was, with milk of Irish breast: Her Sire an earl, her Dame of princes' blood; From tender years in Britain she doth rest With King's child, where she tasteth costly food.
Hunsdon did first present her to my eyne; Bright is her hue, and Geraldine she hight: Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine; Windsor, alas! doth chase me from her sight. Her beauty' of kind, her virtue from above; Happy is he that can obtain her love!
me e'en where the Sun doth parch the green, Or where his beams do not dissolve the ice; In temperate heat, where he is felt and seen; In presence press'd of people, mad or wise; Set me in high, or yet in low degree; In longest night, or in the shortest day; In clearest sky, or where clouds thickest be; In lusty youth, or when the hairs are grey; Set me in heaven, in earth, or else in hell, On hill or dale, or on the foaming flood: Thrall'd, or at large; wherever so I dwell, Sick, or in health; in evil fame, or good; Her's will I be, and only with this thought, Content myself, although my chance be nought.
ALAS! so all things now do hold their peace,
Heaven and earth disturbed in nothing;
The beasts, the air, the birds their song do cease;
For my sweet thoughts, some time do pleasure bring
To live and lack the thing should rid my pain.