A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull,
Fair linéd slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my Love.
Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall on an ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.
(Written by Sir Walter Raleigh)
IF all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither-soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,-
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy Love.
But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
OUR BLESSED LADY'S LULLABY
UPON my lap, my Sovereign sits,
And sucks upon my breast;
Meanwhile his love sustains my life,
And gives my body rest.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy.
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
When thou hast taken thy repast,
Repose, my babe, on me.
So may thy mother and thy nurse,
Thy cradle also be.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
I grieve that duty doth not work
All that my wishing would,
Because I would not be to thee
But in the best I should.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
Yet as I am and as I may,
I must and will be thine,
Though all too little for thyself
Vouchsafing to be mine.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
My wits, my words, my deeds, my thoughts,
And else what is in me,
I rather will not wish to use,
If not in serving thee.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
My babe, my bliss, my child, my choice,
My fruit, my flower, and bud,
My Jesus, and my only joy,
The sum of all my good.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
My sweetness, and the sweetest most
That heaven could earth deliver,
Soul of my love, spirit of my life,
Abide with me for ever.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
Live still with me, and be my love,
And death will me refrain,
Unless thou let me die with thee,
To live with thee again.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
Leave now to wail, thou luckless wight
That wrought'st thy race's woe,
Redress is found, and foilèd is
Thy fruit-alluring foe.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
The fruit of death from Paradise
Made the exiled mourn;
My fruit of life to Paradise
Makes joyful thy return.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
Grow up, good fruit be nourished by
These fountains two of me,
That only flow with maiden's milk,
The only meat for thee.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
The earth has now a heaven become,
And this base bower of mine,
A princely palace unto me,
My son doth make to shine.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
His sight gives clearness to my sight,
When waking I him see,
And sleeping, his mild countenance
Gives favour unto me.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
When I him in mine arms embrace,
I feel my heart embraced,
Even by the inward grace of his,
Which he in me hath placed.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
And when I kiss his loving lips,
Then his sweet-smelling breath
Doth yield a savour to my soul,
That feeds love, hope, and faith.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
The shepherds left their keeping sheep,
For joy to see my lamb;
How may I more rejoice to see
Myself to be the dam.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
Three kings their treasures hither brought
Of incense, myrrh, and gold;
The heaven's treasure, and the king
That here they might behold.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
One sort an angel did direct,
A star did guide the other,
And all the fairest son to see
That ever had a mother.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
This sight I see, this child I have,
This infant I embrace,
O endless comfort of the earth,
And heaven's eternal grace.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
Thee sanctity herself doth serve,
Thee goodness doth attend,
Thee blessedness doth wait upon,
And virtues all commend.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
Great kings and prophets wishèd have
To see that I possess,
Yet wish I never thee to see,
If not in thankfulness.
Sing, lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my livës joy.
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