OLD ENGLISH MADRIGALS. SIXTEENTH CENTURY. THERE is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy, It makes men rich in greatest poverty, Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold, SAY, dear, will you not have me? Or if you will not take the thing once given, So light is love, in matchless beauty shining, So heavy on my heart she sitteth. WITH angel's face and brightness, And orient huc fair shining, with nimble foot she trippèd O'er hills and mountains, till at last in dale she rested; This is the maiden Queen of the Fairy-land, With sceptre in her hand! OLD ENGLISH MADRIGALS. The fairies and satyrs dancing, did show their nimble lightness; FAIR Oriana, in the morn, Before the day was born, Which made nor print nor sound, Would see her nymphs abed, What lives those ladies led; The roses blushing said, "O, stay, thou shepherd maid;" And, on a sudden, all They rose and heard her call. Then sang those shepherds and nymphs of Diana, "Long live fair Oriana, long live fair Oriana." GIVE me my heart, and I will go; No, no, no-no, no, no. But since my dear doth doubt me, With no, no, no, I mean to flout thee; No, no, no. Now there is hope we shall agree, Since double no imparteth yea; If that be so, my dearest, With no, no, no, my heart thou cheerest. COLD winter ice is fled and gone, And summer brags on every tree; OLD ENGLISH MADRIGALS. The red-breast peeps among the throng EVERY singing bird that in the wood rejoices, ROBERT HERRICK. 1591-167—. THE NIGHT-PIECE. TO JULIA. HER eyes the glow-worm lend thee, And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee! No Will-o'-th'-wisp mislight thee, Not making a stay, Since ghost there's none to affright thee. Then, Julia, let me woo thee, Thus, thus, to come unto me; Thy silvery feet, My soul I'll pour unto thee. THE BRACELET. TO JULIA. WHY I tie about thy wrist, ROBERT HERRICK. But to show thee how in part 'Tis but silk that bindeth thee, I am bound, and fast bound, so If I could, I would not so. NOT TO LOVE. HE that will not love, must be Fainting swoons and deadly sweats; Now an ague, then a fever, Both tormenting lovers ever. Wouldst thou know, besides all these, |