Did they hunt him to his hiding, Left to lie, with thin lips resting Till some "tiger-monkey," finding Fancies only! Nought the covers, Nothing more the leaves reveal, Yet I love it for its lovers, For the dream that round it hovers A MADRIGAL EFORE me, careless lying, BE Young Love his ware comes crying: Full soon the elf untreasures His pack of pains and pleasures, With roguish eye, He bids me buy From out his pack of treasures. His wallet's stuffed with blisses, With boyish flout, And bids me try the fetters. Nay, Child (I cry), I know them; I know their past deceiving,- (I say), and cold, But still the wanton presses, With all its care, Its sorrow and undoing. A SONG TO THE LUTE HEN first I came to Court, WHEN Fa la ! When first I came to Court, I deemed Dan Cupid but a boy, A sport whereat a man might toy Too soon I found my fault, Fa la ! Too soon I found my fault; When SILVIA's eyes assail, Fa la! When SILVIA'S eyes assail, No feint the arts of war can show, No counterstroke avail; Naught skills but arms away to throw, And kneel before that lovely foe, When SILVIA'S eyes assail! |