Let's number out the hours by blisses,
And count the minutes by our kisses;
Let the heavens new motions feel
And by our embraces wheel;
And whilst we try the way
By which Love doth convey
Soul unto soul,
And mingling so
Makes them such raptures know
As makes them entranced lie
In mutual ecstasy,
Let the harmonious spheres in music roll!
The Merry Heart
JOG on, jog on, the footpath way,
And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.
HE seas are quiet when the winds give o'er;
So calm are we when passions are no more.
For then we know how vain it was to boast
Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost.
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes
Conceal that emptiness which age decries.
The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd,
Lets in new light through chinks that Time hath made:
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become
As they draw near to their eternal home.
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view
That stand upon the threshold of the new.
Questions and Answers
OTH sorrow fret thy soul? O direful sprite!
Doth pleasure feed thy heart? O blessed man!
Hast thou been happy once? O heavy plight!
Are thy mishaps forepast? O happy than!
Or hast thou bliss in eld? O bliss too late!
But hast thou bliss in youth? O sweet estate!
Thomas, Lord Vaux
IS mirth that fills the veins with blood,
More than wine, or sleep, or food;
Let each man keep his heart at ease;
No man dies of that disease.
He that would his body keep
From diseases, must not weep;
But whoever laughs and sings,
Never he his body brings
Into fevers, gouts, or rheums,
Or lingeringly his lungs consumes;
Or meets with aches in his bone,
Or catarrhs, or griping stone:
But contented lives for aye;
The more he laughs, the more he may.
To Be Merry
LET'S now take our time
While we're in our prime,
And old, old age, is afar off:
For the evil, evil days
Will come on apace,
Before we can be aware of.
Virtue Triumphant
'HO, Virtue, can thy power forget
That sees these live and triumph yet?
Th' Assyrian pomp, the Persian pride,
Greeks' glory and the Romans' died;
And who yet imitate
Their noises, tarry the same fate.
Force greatness all the glorious ways
You can, it soon decays;
But so good fame shall never:
Her triumphs, as their causes, are forever.
HE earth, late choked with showers,
Is now array'd in green;
Her bosom springs with flowers,
The air dissolves her teen,
The heavens laugh at her glory:
Yet bide I sad and sorry.
The woods are deckt with leaves,
And trees are clothed gay
And Flora, crown'd with sheaves,
With oaken boughs doth play:
Where I am clad in black,
The token of my wrack.
The birds upon the trees
Do sing with pleasant voices,
And chant in their degrees
Their loves and lucky choices:
When I, whilst they are singing,
With sighs mine arms am wringing.
The thrushes seek the shade,
And I my fatal grave;
Their flight to heaven is made,
My walk on earth I have:
They free, I thrall; they jolly,
I sad and pensive wholly.
496. Whilst Youthful Sports are Lasting
PLUCK the fruit and taste the pleasure,
Youthful lordings, of delight;
Whilst occasion gives you seizure,
Feed your fancies and your sight:
After death, when you are gone,
Joy and pleasure is there none.
Here on earth nothing is stable,
Fortune's changes well are known;
Whilst as youth doth then enable,
Let your seeds of joy be sown:
After death, when you are gone,
Joy and pleasure is there none.
Feast it freely with your lovers,
Blithe and wanton sports do fade,
Whilst that lovely Cupid hovers
Round about this lovely shade:
Sport it freely one to one,
After death is pleasure none.
Now the pleasant spring allureth,
And both place and time invites:
But, alas, what heart endureth
To disclaim his sweet delights?
After death, when we are gone,
Joy and pleasure is there none.
T. Lodge
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