Canst drink the waters of the crisped spring? Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears? Then he that patiently Want's burden bears, O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content! Work apace, apace, etc. - THOMAS Dekker. 25. MELANCOLIA. HENCE, all you vain delights, O sweetest melancholy ! Welcome, folded arms, and fixéd eyes, A look that's fasten'd to the ground, These are the sounds we feed upon; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley; - FRANCIS BEAUMONT. 26. ON MELANCHOLY. I. WHEN I go musing all alone, Thinking of divers things foreknown; Pleasing myself with phantasms sweet, 2. When I go walking all alone, 3. When to myself I act and smile, All my joys besides are folly; S 4. When I lie, sit, or walk alone, I sigh, I grieve, making great moan; 5. Methinks I hear, methinks I see Here now, then there, the world is mine; Whate'er is lovely, is divine. All other joys to this are folly; 6. Methinks I hear, methinks I see Ghosts, goblins, fiends: my fantasy All my griefs to this are jolly; 27. BREAK, BREAK, BREAK! BREAK, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! Oh well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! Oh well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But oh for the touch of a vanished hand, Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. Go, Soul, the body's guest, Fear not to touch the best; The truth shall be thy warrant. Go, since I must die, And give the world the lie. Say to the Court it glows And shines like rotten wood; Say to the Church it shows What's good, and doth no good. If Church and Court reply, Then give them both the lie. Tell Potentates they live Acting but others' actions; Not loved unless they give, Not strong but by their factions. If Potentates reply, Give Potentates the lie. Tell men of high condition, Tell them that brave it most, They beg for more by spending, Who in their greatest cost Like nothing but commending: And if they make reply, Then tell them all they lie. Tell Zeal it wants devotion; Tell Love it is but lust; Tell Time it is but motion; Tell Flesh it is but dust. And wish them not reply, For thou must give the lie. |