VII. ON ISABELLA MARKHAM. -HARRINGTON. WHENCE Comes my love? O heart, disclose: 'Twas from cheeks that shame the rose; The blushing cheek speaks modest mind, The eye does tempt to love's desire, 1 And seems to say, 'tis Cupid's fire; Yet all so fair but speak my moan, Since nought doth say the heart of stone. Why thus, my love, so kind bespeak Sweet lip, sweet eye, sweet blushing cheek, Yet not a heart to save my pain? O Venus! take thy gifts again; Make not so fair to cause our moan, Or make a heart that's like our own. VIII. MELANCHOLY. -FLETCHER. HENCE, all you vain delights, Wherein you spend your folly! There's nought in this life sweet, If man were wise to see't, But only Melancholy ! Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes, A look that's fasten'd to the ground, Fountain heads, and pathless groves, Are warmly hous'd, save bats and owls! A midnight bell, a parting groan! These are the sounds we feed upon; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley: Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely Melancholy. IX. RIVER GOD'S COURTSHIP. -FLETCHER. I AM this fountain's God. Below, My waters to a river grow, And 'twixt two banks with osiers set, That only prosper in the wet, Through the meadows do they glide, Wheeling still on ev'ry side, Sometimes winding round about, To find the evenest channel out. And if thou wilt go with me, Leaving mortal company, In the cool stream shalt thou lie, I will give thee for thy food, No fish that useth in the mud; But trout and pike, that love to swim Where the gravel from the brim |