FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   24   25   26   27   28   29   30   31   32   33   34   35   36   37   38   39   40   41  
>>  
es. I, that loved you, and often with my quill, Made music that delighted fountain, grove, and hill; I, whom you loved so, and with a sweet and chaste embrace. Yea, with a thousand rather favours, would vouchsafe to grace, I now must leave you all alone, of love to plain; And never pipe, nor never sing again! I must, for evermore, be gone; And therefore bid I you, And every one, Adieu! I die! For, oh! I feel Death's horrors drawing nigh, And all this frame of nature reel. My hopeless heart, despairing of relief, Sinks underneath the heavy weight of saddest grief; Which hath so ruthless torn, so racked, so tortured every vein, All comfort comes too late to have it ever cured again. My swimming head begins to dance death's giddy round; A shuddering chillness doth each sense confound; Benumbed is my cold sweating brow A dimness shuts my eye. And now, oh! now, I die! From _Faire Virtue_. Song Lordly gallants! tell me this (Though my safe content you weigh not), In your greatness, what one bliss Have you gained, that I enjoy not? You have honours, you have wealth; I have peace, and I have health: All the day I merry make, And at night no care I take. Bound to none my fortunes be, This or that man's fall I fear not; Him I love that loveth me, For the rest a pin I care not. You are sad when others chaff, And grow merry as they laugh; I that hate it, and am free, Laugh and weep as pleaseth me. You may boast of favours shown, Where your service is applied: But my pleasures are mine own, And to no man's humour tied. You oft flatter, sooth, and feign; I such baseness do disdain; And to none be slave I would, Though my fetters might be gold. By great titles, some believe, Highest honours are attained; And yet kings have power to give To their fools, what these have gained. Where they favour there they may All their names of honour lay; But I look not raised to be, 'Till mine own wing carry me. Seek to raise your titles higher; They are toys not worth my sorrow; Those that we to-day admire, Prove the age's scorn to-morrow. Take yo
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   24   25   26   27   28   29   30   31   32   33   34   35   36   37   38   39   40   41  
>>  



Top keywords:

titles

 

favours

 
gained
 

honours

 

Though

 

service

 

applied

 

pleaseth

 

fortunes

 

loveth


higher
 
raised
 
honour
 

morrow

 

admire

 

sorrow

 
favour
 

baseness

 

disdain

 

fetters


humour
 

flatter

 

attained

 

Highest

 

pleasures

 

horrors

 

drawing

 

evermore

 

nature

 

weight


saddest
 

underneath

 

hopeless

 

despairing

 

relief

 

fountain

 

delighted

 

chaste

 

embrace

 

thousand


vouchsafe
 

Virtue

 

Lordly

 

sweating

 

dimness

 
gallants
 

wealth

 

greatness

 

content

 

Benumbed