XIX

MAN AND WOMAN

GH no more, ladies, sigh no more,—

SIGH

Men were deceivers ever,

One foot in sea and one on shore,

To one thing constant never :
---Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into, Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no more,
Of dumps so dull and heavy ;

The fraud of men was ever so

Since summer first was leafy : -Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe

Into, Hey nonny, nonny.

XX

THE YOUTH'S DIRGE

COME away, come away, Death,
And in sad cypres let me be laid ;

Fly away, fly away, breath ;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it!

My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

On my black coffin let there be strown;

Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be

thrown :

A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, O, where

Sad true lover never find my grave,

To weep there.

XXI

DIRGES

SWEET Flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I

strew,

O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones ;-Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,

Or, wanting that, with tears distilled by moans : The obsequies that I for thee will keep

Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.

Pardon, Goddess of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight;
For the which, with songs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.

Midnight, assist our moan;
Help us to sigh and groan,

Heavily, heavily :

Graves, yawn and yield your dead

Till death be uttered,

Heavily, heavily.

XXII

THE END

EAR no more the heat o' the sun

FEAR

Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages : Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o' the great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ;
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash

Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;

Fear not slander, censure rash; Thou hast finish'd joy and moan : All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee !
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee !
Nothing ill come near thee !
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!