Tudor and Stuart Love Songs Part 12

FAREWELL, MY JOY.

Farewell! my joy!

Adieu! my love and pleasure!

To sport and toy We have no longer leisure.

Fa la la!

Farewell! adieu!

Until our next consorting!

Sweet love, be true!

And thus we end our sporting.

Fa la la!

Thomas Weelkes.

THE LARK NOW LEAVES HIS WAT'RY NEST.

The lark now leaves his wat'ry nest, And climbing, shakes his dewy wings, He takes your window for the east, And to implore your light, he sings; Awake, awake, the morn will never rise Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.

The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, The ploughman from the sun his season takes; But still the lover wonders what they are, Who look for day before his mistress wakes.

Awake, awake, break through your veils of lawn, Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn.

Sir William Davenant.

GO, LOVELY ROSE.

Go, lovely Rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.

Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired.

Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, How small a part of time they share Who are so wondrous sweet and fair!

Edmund Waller.

HIS MISTRESS.

I have a mistress, for perfections rare In every eye, but in my thoughts most fair.

Like tapers on the altar s.h.i.+ne her eyes; Her breath is the perfume of sacrifice.

And wheresoe'er my fancy would begin, Still her perfection lets religion in.

We sit and talk, and kiss away the hours As chastely as the morning dews kiss flowers.

I touch her, like my beads, with devout care, And come unto my courts.h.i.+p as my prayer.

Thomas Randolph.

CHLORIS.

Amyntas, go! Thou art undone, Thy faithful heart is crossed by fate; That love is better not begun, Where love is come to love too late.

Yet who that saw fair Chloris weep Such sacred dew, with such pure grace, Durst think them feigned tears, or seek For treason in an angel's face.

Henry Vaughan.

LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG.

Love me little, love me long, Is the burden of my song; Love that is too hot and strong Burneth soon to waste; Still I would not have thee cold, Or backward, or too bold, For love that lasteth till 'tis old Fadeth not in haste.

Winter's cold, or summer's heat, Autumn tempests on it beat, It can never know defeat, Never can rebel; Such the love that I would gain, Such love, I tell thee plain, That thou must give or love in vain, So to thee farewell.

Circa 1610.

FAIN WOULD I CHANGE THAT NOTE.

Fain would I change that note To which fond love hath charm'd me, Long, long to sing by rote, Fancying that that harm'd me: Yet when this thought doth come, "Love is the perfect sum Of all delight,"

I have no other choice Either for pen or voice To sing or write.

O Love, they wrong thee much That say thy sweet is bitter, When thy rich fruit is such As nothing can be sweeter.

Fair house of joy and bliss Where truest pleasure is, I do adore thee; I know thee what thou art, I serve thee with my heart, And fall before thee.

Captain Tobias Hume.