FROM 'THE FAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS.' [By Fletcher.] I. THE SATYR. Here be grapes whose lusty blood Sweeter yet did never crown The head of Bacchus; nuts more brown For these black-eyed Dryope Hath oftentimes commanded me With my clasped knee to climb : See how well the lusty time Hath deck'd their rising cheeks in red, Here be berries for a queen, These are of that luscious meat The great god Pan himself doth eat: All these, and what the woods can yield, I freely offer, and ere long Will bring you more, more sweet and strong; Till when, humbly leave I take, Lest the great Pan do awake, That sleeping lies in a deep glade, Under a broad beech's shade. I must go, I must run Swifter than the fiery sun. VOL. II. II. THE RIVER GOD TO AMORET. I am this fountain's god. Below And 'twixt two banks with osiers set, In the cool streams shalt thou lie, But trout and pike, that love to swim Through the pure streams may be seen; Will I give, thy love to win, And a shell to keep them in ; That shall disobey thy look, But, when thou wilt, come gliding by E The Song. Do not fear to put thy feet Naked in the river sweet; Think not leech or newt or toad Will bite thy foot, when thou hast trod; As thou wad'st in, make thee cry III. THE SATYR. Thou divinest, fairest, brightest, Thou most powerful maid and whitest, Thou most virtuous and most blessed, Eyes of stars, and golden tressed Like Apollo! tell me, sweetest, What new service now is meetest For the Satyr? Shall I stray In the middle air, and stay The sailing rack, or nimbly take Hold by the moon, and gently make Suit to the pale queen of night For a beam to give thee light? Shall I dive into the sea And bring thee coral, making way Through the rising waves that fall Like snowy fleeces? Dearest, shall I catch thee wanton fawns, or flies Whose woven wings the summer dyes Of many colours? get thee fruit, Or steal from heaven old Orpheus' lute? All these I'll venture for, and more, To do her service all these woods adore. FROM THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.' [By Shakespeare and Fletcher.] Roses, their sharp spines being gone, Maiden-pinks, of odour faint, Primrose, first-born child of Ver, Oxlips in their cradles growing, All, dear Nature's children sweet, Not an angel of the air, Bird melodious or bird fair, The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor May on our bride-house perch or sing, What the mighty Love has done ; Fear examples and be wise: Fair Calisto was a nun; Danaë, in a brazen tower, Where no love was, loved a shower. Hear, ye ladies that are coy, What the mighty Love can do; Fear the fierceness of the boy: The chaste moon he made to woo; Vesta, kindling holy fires, Circled round about with spies, 11. SONG TO BACCHUS. God Lyæus, ever young, Ever renown'd, ever sung; Stain'd with blood of lusty grapes, |