Lyrics from the Song-Books of the Elizabethan Age Part 17

Sweet, come again!

Your happy sight, so much desired Since you from hence are now retired, I seek in vain: Still I must mourn, And pine in longing pain, Till you, my life's delight, again Vouchsafe your wish'd return.

If true desire, Or faithful vow of endless love, Thy heart inflamed may kindly move With equal fire; O then my joys, So long distraught, shall rest, Reposed soft in thy chaste breast, Exempt from all annoys.

You had the power My wand'ring thoughts first to restrain, You first did hear my love speak plain; A child before, Now it is grown Confirmed, do you it[15] keep!

And let 't safe in your bosom sleep, There ever made your own!

And till we meet, Teach absence inward art to find, Both to disturb and please the mind!

Such thoughts are sweet: And such remain In hearts whose flames are true; Then such will I retain, till you To me return again.

[15] Old ed. "do you keep it."

From WILLIAM CORKINE's _Airs_, 1610.

Sweet Cupid, ripen her desire, Thy joyful harvest may begin; If age approach a little nigher, 'Twill be too late to get it in.

Cold Winter storms lay standing Corn, Which once too ripe will never rise, And lovers wish themselves unborn, When all their joys lie in their eyes.

Then, sweet, let us embrace and kiss: Shall beauty shale[16] upon the ground?

If age bereave us of this bliss, Then will no more such sport be found.

[16] Sh.e.l.l, husk (as peas).

From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals_, 1598.

Sweet heart, arise! why do you sleep When lovers wanton sports do keep?

The sun doth s.h.i.+ne, the birds do sing, And May delight and joy doth bring: Then join we hands and dance till night, 'Tis pity love should want his right.

From ROBERT JONES' _Musical Dream_, 1609.

Sweet Kate Of late Ran away and left me plaining.

Abide!

(I cried) Or I die with thy disdaining.

Te hee, quoth she; Make no fool of me; Men, I know, have oaths at pleasure, But, their hopes attained, They bewray they feigned, And their oaths are kept at leisure.

Unkind, I find Thy delight is in tormenting: Abide!

(I cried) Or I die with thy consenting.

Te hee, quoth she, Make no fool of me; Men, I know, have oaths at pleasure, But, their hopes attained, They bewray they feigned, And their oaths are kept at leisure.

Her words, Like swords, Cut my sorry heart in sunder, Her flouts With doubts Kept my heart-affections under.

Te hee, quoth she, What a fool is he Stands in awe of once denying!

Cause I had enough To become more rough, So I did--O happy trying!

From JOHN WILBYE's _Madrigals_, 1598.

Sweet Love, if thou wilt gain a monarch's glory, Subdue her heart who makes me glad and sorry; Out of thy golden quiver, Take thou thy strongest arrow That will through bone and marrow, And me and thee of grief and fear deliver: But come behind, for, if she look upon thee, Alas! poor Love, then thou art woe-begone thee.

From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals_, 1598.

Sweet Love, I will no more abuse thee, Nor with my voice accuse thee; But tune my notes unto thy praise And tell the world Love ne'er decays.

Sweet Love doth concord ever cherish: What wanteth concord soon must perish.

From ROBERT JONES' _Ultimum Vale, or Third Book of Airs_ (1608).

Sweet Love, my only treasure, For service long unfeigned Wherein I nought have gained, Vouchsafe this little pleasure, To tell me in what part My Lady keeps her heart.

If in her hair so slender, Like golden nets entwined Which fire and art have fined, Her thrall my heart I render For ever to abide With locks so dainty tied.

If in her eyes she bind it, Wherein that fire was framed By which it is inflamed, I dare not look to find it: I only wish it sight To see that pleasant light.

But if her breast have deigned With kindness to receive it, I am content to leave it Though death thereby were gained: Then, Lady, take your own That lives by you alone.

From JOHN DOWLAND's _Pilgrim's Solace_, 1612. (The first stanza is found in a poem of Donne.)

Sweet, stay awhile; why will you rise?

The light you see comes from your eyes; The day breaks not, it is my heart, To think that you and I must part.

O stay! or else my joys must die And perish in their infancy.

Dear, let me die in this fair breast, Far sweeter than the ph[oe]nix nest.

Love raise Desire by his sweet charms Within this circle of thine arms!

And let thy blissful kisses cherish Mine infant joys that else must perish.

From THOMAS VAUTOR's _Songs of divers Airs and Natures_, 1619.

_Tuwhoo, tuwhit, tuwhit, tuwhoo-o-o._

Sweet Suffolk owl, so trimly dight With feathers like a lady bright, Thou sing'st alone, sitting by night, Te whit, te whoo!

Thy note, that forth so freely rolls, With shrill command the mouse controls, And sings a dirge for dying souls, Te whit, te whoo!

From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals of Five and Six Parts_, 1600.

Take here my heart, I give it thee for ever!

No better pledge can love to love deliver.

Fear not, my dear, it will not fly away, For hope and love command my heart to stay.

But if thou doubt, desire will make it range: Love but my heart, my heart will never change.

From FARMER's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1599.

Take time while time doth last, Mark how fair fadeth fast; Beware if envy reign, Take heed of proud disdain; Hold fast now in thy youth, Regard thy vowed truth, Lest, when thou waxeth old, Friends fail and love grow cold.