SONG. My silks and fine array, My smiles and languished air, By love are driven away. And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: His face is fair as heaven When springing buds unfold; Oh, why to him was't given, His breast is Love's all-worshipped tomb Bring me an axe and spade, Bring me a winding-sheet; When I my grave have made, Let winds and tempests beat: Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay. SONG. LOVE and harmony combine Joys upon our branches sit, Thou the golden fruit dost bear, Thy sweet boughs perfume the air, There she sits and feeds her young; There his charm'd nest he doth lay, SONG. I LOVE the jocund dance, The softly-breathing song, Where innocent eyes do glance, Where lisps the maiden's tongue. I love the laughing vale, I love the echoing hill, Where mirth does never fail, And the jolly swain laughs his fill. I love the pleasant cot, I love the innocent bower, Where white and brown is our lot, I love the oaken seat Beneath the oaken tree, Where all the old villagers meet, I love our neighbours all, But, Kitty, I better love thee: And love them I ever shall, But thou art all to me. MAD SONG. THE wild winds weep, And the night is a-cold; Come hither, Sleep, And my griefs unfold! But lo! the Morning peeps Over the eastern steeps, And rustling birds of dawn The earth do scorn. Lo! to the vault Of paved heaven, With sorrow fraught, Like a fiend in a cloud, And with night will go; I turn my back to the East SONG. How sweet I roamed from field to field, 'Till I the Prince of Love beheld, He show'd me lilies for my hair, With sweet May dews my wings were wet, And Phoebus fired my vocal rage; He caught me in his silken net, And shut me in his golden cage. He loves to sit and hear me sing, Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty. |