sir, to-day!"

A fourth, consisting of a short conventional introduction in praise of
Spring, followed by a dialogue between a young man and a girl, in
which the metre changes for the last two stanzas, may be classed among
the pastorals, although it is a somewhat irregular example of the
species.

THE WOOING.

No. 26.

All the woods are now in flower,
Song-birds sing in field and bower,
Orchards their white blossoms shower:
Lads, make merry in Love's hour!

Sordid grief hath flown away,
Fervid Love is here to-day;
He will tame without delay
Those who love not while they may.

_He._
"Fairest maiden, list to me;
Do not thus disdainful be;
Scorn and anger disagree
With thy youth, and injure thee.

"I am weaker than thou art;
Mighty Love hath pierced my heart;
Scarce can I endure his dart:
Lest I die, heal, heal my smart!"

_She._
"Why d'you coax me, suitor blind?
What you seek you will not find;
I'm too young for love to bind;
Such vain trifles vex my mind.

"Is't your will with me to toy?
I'll not mate with man or boy:
Like the Phoenix, to enjoy
Single life shall be my joy."

_He._
"Yet Love is tyrannous,
Harsh, fierce, imperious!
He who man's heart can thus
Shatter, may make to bow
Maidens as stern as thou!"

_She._
"Now by your words I'm 'ware
What you wish, what you are;
You know love well, I swear!
So I'll be loved by you;
Now I'm on fire too!"

XVI.

Some semi-descriptive pieces, which connect the songs of Spring with
lyrics of a more purely personal emotion, can boast of rare beauty in
the original.

The most striking of these, upon the theme of Sleep and Love, I have
tried to render in trochaic verse, feeling it impossible, without
knowledge of the medieval melody, to reproduce its complicated and now
only half-intelligible rhythms.

A DESCANT UPON SLEEP AND LOVE.

No. 27.

When the lamp of Cynthia late
Rises in her silver state,
Through her brother's roseate light,
Blushing on the brows of night;
Then the pure ethereal air
Breathes with zephyr blowing fair;
Clouds and vapours disappear.
As with chords of lute or lyre,
Soothed the spirits now respire,
And the heart revives again
Which once more for love is fain.
But the orient evening star
Sheds with i