John Fletcher.

1579-1625

215   Bridal Song

CYNTHIA, to thy power and thee
              We obey.
Joy to this great company!
              And no day
Come to steal this night away
   Till the rites of love are ended,
And the lusty bridegroom say,
   Welcome, light, of all befriended!

Pace out, you watery powers below;
              Let your feet,
Like the galleys when they row,
              Even beat;
Let your unknown measures, set
   To the still winds, tell to all
That gods are come, immortal, great,
   To honour this great nuptial!

216   Aspatia’s Song

LAY a garland on my herse
   Of the dismal yew;
Maidens, willow branches bear;
   Say, I died true.

My love was false, but I was firm
From my hour of birth.
Upon my buried body lie
Lightly, gentle earth!

217   Hymn to Pan

SING his praises that doth keep
    Our flocks from harm,
Pan, the father of our sheep;
    And arm in arm
Tread we softly in a round,
Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground
Fills the music with her sound.

Pan, O great god Pan, to thee
    Thus do we sing!
Thou who keep’st us chaste and free
   As the young spring:
Ever be thy honour spoke
From that place the morn is broke
To that place day doth unyoke!

218   Away, Delights

AWAY, delights! go seek some other dwelling,
     For I must die.
Farewell, false love! thy tongue is ever telling
     Lie after lie.
For ever let me rest now from thy smarts;
     Alas, for pity go
     And fire their hearts
That have been hard to thee! Mine was not so.

Never again deluding love shall know me,
     For I will die;
And all those griefs that think to overgrow me
     Shall be as I:
For ever will I sleep, while poor maids cry—
     ‘Alas, for pity stay,
     And let us die
With thee! Men cannot mock us in the clay.’

219   Love’s Emblems

NOW the lusty spring is seen;
   Golden yellow, gaudy blue,
   Daintily invite the view:
Everywhere on every green
Roses blushing as they blow
   And enticing men to pull,
Lilies whiter than the snow,
   Woodbines of sweet honey full:
     All love’s emblems, and all cry,
     ‘Ladies, if not pluck’d, we die.’

Yet the lusty spring hath stay’d;
   Blushing red and purest white
   Daintily to love invite
Every woman, every maid:
Cherries kissing as they grow,
   And inviting men to taste,
Apples even ripe below,
   Winding gently to the waist:
     All love’s emblems, and all cry,
     ‘Ladies, if not pluck’d, we die.’

220   Hear, ye Ladies

HEAR, ye ladies that despise
   What the mighty Love has done;
Fear examples and be wise:
   Fair Callisto was a nun;
Leda, sailing on the stream
   To deceive the hopes of man,
Love accounting but a dream,
   Doted on a silver swan;
     Danaëe, in a brazen tower,
     Where no love was, loved a shower.