When new desires had conquer'd thee, Not constancy, to love thee still. Since we are taught our players to say Yet do thou glory in thy choice, To see him gain what I have lost. From Ritson's "Caledonian Muse." Sir Robert Aytoun was a Scotchman by birth, but his poems belong to English literature. WOMAN'S INCONSTANCY. JOHN DONNE, born 1573, died 1631. If thou beest born to strange sights, Things invisible to see, Ride ten thousand days and nights Till age snow white hairs on thee; And swear, No where Lives a woman true and fair. If thou find one, let me know; Though at next door we might meet; Yet she Will be False ere I come to two or three. DRINK TO ME ONLY WITH THINE EYES. From "The Forest," a poem by BEN JONSON, born 1574, died 1637. Set as a glee; composer unknown. DRINK to me only with thine eyes, Or leave a kiss but in the cup, But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I sent thee late a rosy wreath, It would not wither'd be; But thou thereon didst only breathe, Since then it grows and smells, I swear, STILL TO BE NEAT. From "The Forest," by BEN JONSON. STILL to be neat, still to be drest Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. Close up His fatal dart; their casements, and but hear And on the wing Of her sweet voice it shall appear Then unveil your eyes, behold The curious mould Where that voice dwells; and as we know When the cocks crow We freely may So may you, when the music's done, HE THAT LOVES A ROSY CHEEK. THOMAS CAREW, 1635. Music by Miss M. B. HAWES. He that loves a rosy cheek, As old Time makes these decay, But a smooth and stedfast mind, There is another stanza to this song in some editions of the English poets, but so inferior in every way to these, and so unnecessary to the climax of the sentiment, as to suggest a doubt whether it has not been added by an inferior hand. MEDIOCRITY IN LOVE REJECTED. THOMAS CAREW. GIVE me more love or more disdain ; The temperate affords me none: Give me a storm; if it be love Like Danaë in a golden shower, Disdain, that torrent will devour SHALL I LIKE A HERMIT DWELL? Attributed to Sir WALTER RALEIGH. SHALL I like a hermit dwell If she undervalue me, What care I how fair she be? Were her tresses angel-gold,* Unrebuked, unafraid To convert them to a braid, * Angel-gold was of a finer kind than crown-gold, Were her hands as rich a prize No; she must be perfect snow, Then if others share with me, Farewell her, whate'er she be! The burden of this song probably suggested the far more beautiful song of George Wither's, which immediately follows. SHALL I, WASTING IN DESPAIR. GEORGE WITHER, born 1588, died 1667. From "The Mistress of Philarete," published in 1622. Music by Mr. HENRY PHILLIPS, SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? What care I how fair she be? Should my heart be griev'd or pin'd If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be? |