1070. A SLEEPING CHILD

FAIR was that face as break of dawn,
When o'er its beauty sleep was drawn
Like a thin veil which half concealed
The light of soul and half revealed.
While thy hushed heart with visions wrought
Each trembling eyelash moved with thought,
And things we dream, but ne'er can speak,
Like clouds come floating o'er thy cheek—
Such summer clouds as travel light

When the soul's heaven lies calm and bright ;-
Till thou awak'st,-then to thine eye
Thy whole heart leapt in ecstacy!
And lovely is that heart of thine,
Or sure those eyes could never shine
With such a wild, yet bashful glee,
Gay, half-o'ercome timidity.

J. WILSON ('CHRISTOPHER NORTH').

1071. AMARYLLIS I DID WOO

AMARYLLIS I did woo;

And I courted Phillis too;
Daphne for her love I chose ;
Chloris, for that damask rose
In her cheek I held as dear;
Yea, a thousand liked, well near;
And, in love with all together,
Feared the enjoying either,
'Cause to be of one possessed,
Barred the hope of all the rest.

G. WITHER (The Mistress of Philarete).

1072. BEHOLD THE SUN THAT SEEMED BUT NOW

BEHOLD the sun, that seemed but

now

Enthroned overhead,
Beginning to decline below

The globe whereon we tread;
And he, whom yet we look upon
With comfort and delight,
Will quite depart from hence anon,
And leave us to the night.

Thus time, unheeded, steals away
The life which nature gave;
Thus are our bodies every day

Declining to the grave;
Thus from us all our pleasures fly

Whereon we set our heart; And when the night of death draws nigh

Thus will they all depart.

Lord! though the sun forsake our sight,

And mortal hopes are vain, Let still thine everlasting light

Within our souls remain ;

And in the nights of our distress

Vouchsafe those rays divine,

Which from the Sun of Righteousness

For ever brightly shine!

1073. I LOVED A LASS, A FAIR ONE

1074. THE FLOWER OF FLOWERS

LET who list, for me, advance
The admired flowers of France,
Let who will praise and behold
The reserved marigold;
Let the sweet-breathed violet now
Unto whom she pleaseth bow;
And the fairest lily spread
Where she will her golden head;
I have such a flower to wear
That for those I do not care.

Let all times, both present, past,
And the age that shall be last,
Vaunt the beauties they bring
forth.

I have found in one such worth,
That content I neither care
What the best before me were;
Nor desire to live and see
Who shall fair hereafter be ;

For I know the hand of Nature
Will not make a fairer creature.
G. WITHER (The Mistress of Philarete).

1075. SHALL I, WASTING IN DESPAIR

Shall a woman's virtues move
Me to perish for her love?
Or her well-deserving, known,
Make me quite forget my own?
Be she with that goodness blest
Which may gain her name of best,
If she be not such to me

What care I how good she be ?

'Cause her fortune seems too high,
Shall I play the fool, and die ?
Those that bear a noble mind,
Where they want of riches find,
Think what with them they would
do

That without them dare to woo;
And unless that mind I see,
What care I though great she
be ?

Great, or good, or kind, or fair,
I will ne'er the more despair:
If she love me, this believe
I will die ere she shall grieve:
If she slight me when I woo,
I can scorn and let her go;

For if she be not for me,

What care I for whom she be? G. WITHER.

1076. SWEET BABY, SLEEP

SWEET baby, sleep! what ails my dear,
What ails my darling thus to cry?
Be still, my child, and lend thine ear
To hear me sing thy lullaby:
My pretty lamb, forbear to weep;
Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep.

The King of kings, when He was born,
Had not so much for outward ease;
By Him such dressings were not worn,
Nor such like swaddling-clothes as these.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.

1078. TO A KISS

SOFT child of love, thou balmy bliss,
Inform me, O delicious kiss,

Why thou so suddenly art gone,
Lost in the moment thou art won ?
Yet go! For wherefore should I sigh?
On Delia's lips, with raptured eye,
On Delia's blushing lips I see

A thousand full as sweet as thee.

1079. TO A FISH OF THE BROOKE
WHY flyest thou away with fear?
Trust me there's naught of danger near,
I have no wicked hooke

All covered with a snaring bait,
Alas, to tempt thee to thy fate,

And dragge thee from the brooke.

O harmless tenant of the flood,
I do not wish to spill thy blood,
For Nature unto thee

Perchance hath given a tender wife,
And children dear, to charm thy life,
As she hath done for me.

Enjoy thy stream, O harmless fish ;
And when an angler for his dish,
Through gluttony's vile sin,
Attempts, a wretch, to pull thee out,
God give thee strength, O gentle trout,
To pull the raskall in!

1080. TO MARY

IF I had thought thou couldst have died,
I might not weep for thee;

But I forgot, when by thy side

That thou couldst mortal be:

It never through my mind had past
The time would e'er be o'er,

And I on thee should look my last,
And thou shouldst smile no more!

And still upon that face I look,
And think 'twill smile again;

And still the thought I will not brook,
That I must look in vain.

But when I speak-thou dost not say
What thou ne'er left'st unsaid;
And now I feel, as well I may,

Sweet Mary, thou art dead!

J. WOLCOT.

J. WOLCOT.