NDER the greenwood tree Unto the sweet bird's throat Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And pleased with what he gets Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. -William Shakespeare. H ARK! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking May-buds begin Arise, arise. -William Shakespeare. Fidele EAR no more the heat o' the sun Golden lads and girls all must, Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. |