Ye little birds that sit and sing Amidst the shady valleys, And see how Phillis sweetly walks Within her garden-alleys; Go, pretty birds, about her bower; Sing, pretty birds, she may not lower; Ah me! methinks I see her frown!

Ye pretty wantons, warble.

Go tell her through your chirping bills, As you by me are bidden, To her is only known my love, Which from the world is hidden.

Go, pretty birds, and tell her so, See that your notes strain not too low, For still methinks I see her frown; Ye pretty wantons, warble.

Go tune your voices' harmony And sing, I am her lover; Strain loud and sweet, that every note With sweet content may move her: And she that hath the sweetest voice, Tell her I will not change my choice: --Yet still methinks I see her frown!

Ye pretty wantons, warble.

O fly! make haste! see, see, she falls Into a pretty slumber!

Sing round about her rosy bed That waking she may wonder: Say to her, 'tis her lover true That sendeth love to you, to you!

And when you hear her kind reply, Return with pleasant warblings.

PACK CLOUDS, AWAY

Pack clouds, away, and welcome, day!

With night we banish sorrow.

Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft To give my Love good-morrow!

Wings from the wind to please her mind, Notes from the lark I'll borrow; Bird, prune thy wing! nightingale, sing!

To give my Love good-morrow!

To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them all I'll borrow.

Wake from thy nest, robin red-breast!

Sing, birds, in every furrow!

And from each bill let music shrill Give my fair Love good-morrow!

Blackbird and thrush in every bush, Stare, linnet, and c.o.c.ksparrow, You pretty elves, among yourselves Sing my fair Love good-morrow!

To give my Love good-morrow!

Sing, birds, in every furrow!

SLEEP

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER

Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving Lock me in delight awhile; Let some pleasing dreams beguile All my fancies; that from thence I may feel an influence All my powers of care bereaving!

Though but a shadow, but a sliding, Let me know some little joy!

We that suffer long annoy Are contented with a thought Through an idle fancy wrought: O let my joys have some abiding!

SONG TO PAN

All ye woods, and trees, and bowers, All ye virtues and ye powers That inhabit in the lakes, In the pleasant springs or brakes, Move your feet To our sound, Whilst we greet, All this ground, With his honour and his name That defends our flocks from blame.

He is great and he is just, He is ever good, and must Thus be honoured. Daffodillies, Roses, pinks, and loved lilies, Let us fling, Whilst we sing, Ever holy, Ever holy, Ever honoured, ever young!

Thus great Pan is ever sung.

ASPATIA'S SONG

Lay a garland on my hea.r.s.e Of the dismal yew; Maidens, willow branches bear; Say, I died true.

My love was false, but I was firm From my hour of birth.

Upon my buried body lie Lightly, gentle earth!

BEAUTY CLEAR AND FAIR

JOHN FLETCHER

Beauty clear and fair, Where the air Rather like a perfume dwells; Where the violet and the rose Their blue veins and blush disclose, And come to honour nothing else:

Where to live near And planted there Is to live, and still live new; Where to gain a favour is More than light, perpetual bliss-- Make me live by serving you!

Dear, again back recall To this light, A stranger to himself and all!

Both the wonder and the story Shall be yours, and eke the glory; I am your servant, and your thrall.

LET THE BELLS RING, AND LET THE BOYS SING

Let the bells ring, and let the boys sing, The young la.s.ses skip and play; Let the cups go round, till round goes the ground, Our learned old vicar will stay.

Let the pig turn merrily, merrily, ah!

And let the fat goose swim; For verily, verily, verily, ah!

Our vicar this day shall be trim.

The stewed c.o.c.k shall crow, c.o.c.k-a-loodle-loo, A loud c.o.c.k-a-loodle shall he crow; The duck and the drake shall swim in a lake Of onions and claret below.

Our wives shall be neat, to bring in our meat To thee our most n.o.ble adviser; Our pains shall be great, and bottles shall sweat, And we ourselves will be wiser.