Fear no more the frown o' th' great; Thou hast finished joy and moan: No exorciser harm thee! Nor no witchcraft charm thee! FROM THE TEMPEST ARIEL'S SONG Full fathom five thy father lies: Those are pearls that were his eyes; But doth suffer a sea-change Ding-dong! 10 15 20 5 Hark! now I hear them,- Ding-dong, bell! ENGLAND'S HELICON (1600) In the merry month of May, Forth I walked by the wood-side, Much ado there was, God wot! She said, never man was true; She said, love should have no wrong. 5 Thus with many a pretty oath, N. BRETON AS IT FELL UPON A DAY As it fell upon a day, In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade, Which a group of myrtles made, Beasts did leap and birds did sing, Trees did grow and plants did spring, Everything did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone; She, poor bird, as all forlorn, That to hear her so complain Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain, None takes pity on thy pain. Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee; All thy friends are lapped in lead; TO COLIN CLOUT Beauty sat bathing in a spring, IGNOTO Where fairest shades did hide her; The winds blew calm, the birds did sing, The cool streams ran beside her. 20 25 10 15 20 25 At night they take their rest, More quiet than who sendeth His ship into the east, Where gold and pearl are plenty, For lawyers and their pleading, Where conscience judgeth plainly, Not caring much for gold; To keep him from the cold. Though poor and plain his diet, Yet merry it is and quiet. OUT OF MR. BIRD'S SET SONGS A NYMPH'S DISDAIN OF LOVE 'Hey, down, a down!' did Dian sing, Amongst her virgins sitting; 'Than love there is no vainer thing, For maidens most unfitting.' And so think I, with a down, down, derry. When women knew no woe, But lived themselves to please, Men's feigning guiles they did not know, The ground of their disease. Unborn was false suspect, No thought of jealousy; From wanton toys and fond affect, 15 20 Love in my bosom like a bee, Doth suck his sweet; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah, wanton, will ye? 10 I'll shut my eyes to keep ye in, If he gainsay me? SEVENTEENTH CENTURY LYRICS Among the lyrics of the earlier part of the seventeenth century, one discerns, somewhat clearly, at least three poetical manners, which emanated, respectively, from Edmund Spenser, Ben Jonson, and John Donne. The sensuous beauty, playful imagery, and fluent melody of Spenser are clearly present in the poems of William Browne and George Wither. The fine finish, poise, and chastened sweetness of Jonson are a refining influence in the shorter lyrics of Robert Herrick, Thomas Carew, John Suckling, and Richard Lovelace. In John Donne, incisive and subtle thinking finds fantastic, and sometimes harsh, expression in far-fetched analogies, mystifying metaphors, and dimly suggestive images. The poetical apparatus of Donne, often, and his fancy, still more often, are essential in the passionate, soaring, and mystical outbursts of George Herbert, Richard Crashaw, and Henry Vaughan. One notices, however, that Spenser, Jonson, and Donne did not exclusively dominate the poetical output of their conscious or unconscious disciples. Toward the middle of the century appears a new influence in poetical form, the 'heroic,' or closed,' couplet, practiced by Edmund Waller, John Denham, Abraham Cowley, and Andrew Marvell. This verse-form, best adapted to epic and satire, had no important influence upon lyric, except, indirectly, through repression. SONG: TO CELIA Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love. Of a few poor household spies? These have crimes accounted been. TO HEAVEN |