FROM THE FAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS.' [By Fletcher.] I. THE SATYR. Here be grapes whose lusty blood Sweeter yet did never crown The head of Bacchus; nuts more brown Than the squirrel's teeth that crack them; Deign, O fairest fair, to take them! For these black-eyed Dryope Hath oftentimes commanded me Hath deck'd their rising cheeks in red, These are of that luscious meat The great god Pan himself doth eat: All these, and what the woods can yield, I freely offer, and ere long Will bring you more, more sweet and strong; Till when, humbly leave I take, Lest the great Pan do awake, That sleeping lies in a deep glade, Under a broad beech's shade. I must go, I must run Swifter than the fiery sun. VOL. II. II. THE RIVER GOD TO AMORET. I am this fountain's god. Below And 'twixt two banks with osiers set, In the cool streams shalt thou lie, I will give thee for thy food But trout and pike, that love to swim Through the pure streams may be seen Will I give, thy love to win, And a shell to keep them in ; But, when thou wilt, come gliding by How I can my waves command, The Song. Do not fear to put thy feet Naked in the river sweet; Think not leech or newt or toad Will bite thy foot, when thou hast trod; As thou wad'st in, make thee cry 111. THE SATYR. Thou divinest, fairest, brightest, Thou most powerful maid and whitest, To do her service all these woods adore. FROM 'THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.' [By Shakespeare and Fletcher.] Roses, their sharp spines being gone, Maiden-pinks, of odour faint, Primrose, first-born child of Ver, Oxlips in their cradles growing, All, dear Nature's children sweet, Not an angel of the air, Bird melodious or bird fair, The crow, the slanderous cuekoo, nor May on our bride-house perch or sing, FROM VALENTINIAN.' [By Fletcher.] I. Hear, ye ladies that despise, What the mighty Love has done; Fear examples and be wise: Fair Calisto was a nun; Danaë, in a brazen tower, Where no love was, loved a shower. Hear, ye ladies that are coy, What the mighty Love can do Fear the fierceness of the boy : The chaste moon he made to woo; Vesta, kindling holy fires, Circled round about with spies, II. SONG TO BACCHUS. God Lyæus, ever young, Ever renown'd, ever sung; Stain'd with blood of lusty grapes, |