IN

From Luminalia, or the Festival of Light. Personated in a Masque at Court, 1637.

THE SONG OF NIGHT.

N wet and cloudy mists I slowly rise,
As with mine own dull weight opprest,
To close with sleep the jealous lover's eyes,
And give forsaken virgins rest.

Th' advent'rous merchant and the mariner,
Whom storms all day vex in the deep,
Begin to trust the winds when I appear,
And lose their dangers in their sleep.

The studious that consume their brains and sight
In search where doubtful knowledge lies,
Grow weary of their fruitless use of light,
And wish my shades to ease their eyes.

Th' ambitious toiling statesman that prepares
Great mischiefs ere the day begins,

Not measures day by hours, but by his cares;
And night must intermit his sins.

Then why, when my slow chariot used to climb,
Did old mistaking sages weep?

As if my empire did usurp their time,

And hours were lost when spent in sleep?

I come to ease their labours and prevent
That weariness which would destroy ;
The profit of their toils are still misspent
Till rest enables to enjoy.

The inmost rottenness remains behind.
1. Kings, on earth though gods they be,
Yet in death are vile as we ;
He, a thousands' king before,
Now is vassal unto more.

2. Vermin now insulting lie,

And dig for diamonds in each eye ;
Whilst the sceptre-bearing hand
Cannot their inroads withstand.
3. Here doth one in odours wade
By the regal unction made,
While another dares to gnaw

On that tongue, his people's law.

Chorus. Fools, ah fools, are we, who so contrive,
And do strive,

In each gaudy ornament,

Who shall his corpse in the best dish present.

N

From RICHARD BROME'S Northern Lass, 1632.

HUMILITY.

OR Love nor Fate dare I accuse

For that my love did me refuse,
But oh! mine own unworthiness
That durst presume so mickle bliss.
It was too much for me to love
A man so like the gods above :
An angel's shape, a saint-like voice,
Are too divine for human choice.

Oh had I wisely given my heart
For to have loved him but in part;
Sought only to enjoy his face,
Or any one peculiar grace

Of foot, of hand, of lip, or eye,—

I might have lived where now I die :
But I, presuming all to choose,
Am now condemned all to lose.

A

From RICHARD BROME'S
Jovial Crew, or the Merry
Beggars, 1652.

THE MERRY BEGGARS.

OME, come away! the spring,

Co

By every bird that can but sing
Or chirp a note, doth now invite
Us forth to taste of his delight,
In field, in grove, on hill, in dale;
But above all the nightingale,

Who in her sweetness strives t'outdo

The loudness of the hoarse cuckoo.

"Cuckoo,” cries he; “Jug, jug, jug,” sings she ;

From bush to bush, from tree to tree :
Why in one place then tarry we?

Come away! why do we stay?
We have no debt or rent to pay ;
No bargains or accounts to make,
Nor land or lease to let or take :
Or if we had, should that remore1 us
When all the world's our own before us,
And where we pass and make resort,
It is our kingdom and our court?
"Cuckoo," cries he, &c.

1 Delay, hinder.

Р

From WILLIAM STRODE'S The

Floating Island, 1655.1

ADONIS' GOOD-NIGHT.

NCE Venus' cheeks, that shamed the morn,

ONCE

Their hue let fall;

Her lips, that winter had out-borne,

In June looked pale.

Her heat grew cold, her nectar dry;

No juice she had but in her eye
The wonted fire and flames to mortify.
When was this so dismal sight?
When Adonis bade good-night.

From ROBERT

DAVENPORT'S

King John and Matilda, 1655.2

A REQUIEM.

MATILDA, now go take thy bed

In the dark dwellings of the dead;

And rise in the great waking day,

Sweet as incense, fresh as May.

Rest thou, chaste soul, fixed in thy proper sphere, Amongst Heaven's fair ones; all are fair ones there.

Chorus. Rest there, chaste soul, whilst we here troubled say

"Time gives us griefs, Death takes our joys

away."

1 Acted by the students of Christ Church in 1636.

2 Written before 1639.