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I ask’d thee oft what poets thou hast read,
–I shall, ere long, with green turfs cover’d be;Then sure thou’lt like, or thou wilt envy, me.
First offer incense; then, thy field and meads
The spangling dew dredged o’er the grass shall beTurn’d all to mell and manna there for thee.Butter of amber, cream, and wine, and oil,Shall run as rivers all throughout thy soil.Would’st thou to sincere silver turn thy mould?–Pray once, twice pray; and turn thy ground to gold.
Chorus.
Than a Carol, for to singThe Birth of this our heavenly King?Awake the Voice! Awake the String!Heart, Ear, and Eye, and every thingAwake! the while the active FingerRuns division with the Singer.From the Flourish they came to the Song.Voice 1:Dark and dull night, fly hence away,And give the honor to this Day,That sees December turn’d…
How rich and pleasing thou, my Julia, art,
First, for thy Queen-ship on thy head is setOf flowers a sweet commingled coronet;About thy neck a carkanet is bound,Made of the Ruby, Pearl, and Diamond;A golden ring, that shines upon thy thumb;About thy wrist the rich Dardanium;Between thy breasts, than down of swans more white,There plays the Sapphire with the Chrysolite.No part besides must…
My soul would one day go and seek
A richess of those sweets she found,As in another Rosamond;But gathering roses as she was,Not knowing what would come to pass,it chanced a ringlet of her hairCaught my poor soul, as in a snare;Which ever since has been in thrall;–Yet freedom she enjoys withal.