Get up, get up, thou leaden man! Thy track, to endless joy or pain, Yields but the model of a span: Yet burns out thy life's lamp in vain! One minute bounds thy bane or bliss; Then watch and labour while time is.
From HENRY YOULL's _Canzonets to three voices_, 1608.
Awake, sweet Love! 'tis time to rise: Ph[oe]bus is risen in the east, Spreading his beams on those fair eyes Which are enclosed with Nature's rest. Awake, awake from heavy sleep Which all thy thoughts in silence keep!
From JOHN WILBYE's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1598.
Ay me, can every rumour Thus start my lady's humour? Name ye some galante to her, Why straight forsooth I woo her. Then burst[s] she forth in passion "You men love but for fashion;" Yet sure I am that no man Ever so lovèd woman. Then alas, Love, be wary, For women be contrary.
From THOMAS BATESON's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1604.
Ay me, my mistress scorns my love; I fear she will most cruel prove. I weep, I sigh, I grieve, I groan; Yet she regardeth not my moan. Then, Love, adieu! it fits not me To weep for her that laughs at thee.
From JOHN DOWLAND's _Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs_, 1603.
Behold a wonder here! Love hath receiv'd his sight! Which many hundred year Hath not beheld the light.
Such beams infusèd be By Cynthia in his eyes, As first have made him see And then have made him wise.
Love now no more will weep For them that laugh the while! Nor wake for them that sleep, Nor sigh for them that smile!
So powerful is the Beauty That Love doth now behold, As Love is turned to Duty That's neither blind nor bold.
Thus Beauty shows her might To be of double kind; In giving Love his sight And striking Folly blind.
From the Second Book of _Musica Transalpina_, 1597.
Brown is my Love, but graceful: And each renownèd whiteness Match'd with thy lovely brown loseth its brightness.
Fair is my Love, but scornful: Yet have I seen despisèd Dainty white lilies, and sad flowers well prizèd.
From JOHN DOWLAND's _Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs_, 1603.
By a fountain where I lay, (All blessèd be that blessèd day!) By the glimm'ring of the sun, (O never be her shining done!) When I might see alone My true Love, fairest one! Love's dear light! Love's clear sight! No world's eyes can clearer see! A fairer sight, none can be!