Page images
PDF
EPUB

IO.

The Night Is Near Gone

HEY!

EY! now the day dawis;
The jolly cock crawis;

Now shroudis the shawis

Thro' Nature anon.
The thissel-cock cryis

On lovers wha lyis:
Now skaillis the skyis;

The nicht is neir gone.

The fieldis ouerflowis
With gowans that growis,
Quhair lilies like low is
As red as the rone.
The turtle that true is,
With notes that renewis,
Her pairty pursuis:

The nicht is neir gone.

Now hairtis with hindis
Conform to their kindis,

Hie tursis their tyndis

On ground quhair they grone.
Now hurchenis, with hairis,
Aye passis in pairis;

Quhilk duly declaris

The nicht is neir gone.

The season excellis

Through sweetness that smellis;
Now Cupid compellis

Our hairtis echone

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

II.

WHA

Spring's Welcome

THAT bird so sings, yet so does wail?
O'tis the ravish'd nightingale.

Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu! she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
Poor robin red breast tunes his note;
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!
Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!

J. Lyly

[blocks in formation]

PRING, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;

SPR

Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The palm and May make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay-

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
Spring, the sweet Spring!

13.

FRES

Whilst It Is Prime

T. Nashe

RESH Spring, the herald of love's mighty king, In whose cote-armour richly are displayed All sorts of flowers the which on earth do spring In goodly colours gloriously arrayed, Go to my love where she is careless laid Yet in her Winter's bower not well awake: Tell her the joyous time will not be stayed Unless she do him by the fore-lock take: Bid her therefore herself soon ready make To wait on Love amongst his lovely crew: Where every one that misseth then her make Shall be by him amerced with penance due. Make haste therefore, sweet Love, whilst it is prime, For none can call again the passèd time.

14.

Description of the Spring

E. Spenser

Wherein each thing renews, save only the Lover

HE soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings,

THE

With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale:

The nightingale with feathers new she sings;

The turtle to her make hath told her tale.

Summer is come, for every spray now springs:
The hart hath hung his old head on the pale;
The buck in brake his winter coat he flings;
The fishes flete with new repairèd scale.
The adder all her slough away she slings;
The swift swallow pursueth the flies smale;
The busy bee her honey now she mings;
Winter is worn that was the flowers' bale.
And thus I see among these pleasant things
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.
Earl of Surrey

15.

Short Sunshine

FULL many a glorious morning have I seen

Flatter the mountain tops with sovran eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celestial face,
And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace.
E'en so my sun one early morn did shine
With all-triumphant splendour on my brow;
But out, alack! he was but one hour mine,
The region cloud hath masked him from me now.
Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;

Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth.

W. Shakespeare

« PreviousContinue »