TIME. JESSICA. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. LORENZO. 159 The reason is, your spirits are attentive : Which is the high condition of their blood; Or You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods; Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music. SHAKSPERE. TIME. "WHY sitt'st thou by that ruin'd hall, Dost thou its former pride recall, 160 A LILY BY MOONLIGHT. "Know'st thou not me?" the deep voice cried, "So long enjoy'd, so oft misused; Alternate, in thy fickle pride, Desir'd, neglected, and accused? Before my breath, like blazing flax, When time and thou shall part for ever!" SCOTT. TO A LILY FLOWERING BY MOONLIGHT. Он, why, thou lily pale, Lov'st thou to blossom in the wan moonlight, And shed thy rich perfume upon the night? When all thy sisterhood, In silken cowl and hood, Screen their soft faces from the sickly gale, Fair-horned Cynthia wooes thy modest flower, And with her beaming lips Thy kisses cold she sips, For thou art aye her only paramour; And silver crescent bright. GOOD MORROW. Oh, ask thy vestal queen, Where in the blessed skies That maiden may be seen, 161 [day, Who hung, like thee, her pale head through the And lived a maiden chaste amid the folly So on thy mournful bells Shall Dian nightly fling Her tender sighs to give thee fresh perfume, ROSCOE. GOOD MORROW. You that have spent the silent night In sleep and quiet rest, And joy to see the cheerful light That riseth in the east ; Now clear your voice, now cheer your heart, And you whom care in prison keeps, Or secret sorrow breaks your sleeps, 162 GOOD MORROW. Yet bear a part in dolefulwise, Each sprite to praise the Lord. The dreadful night with darksomeness Yet as this dreadful night did last And heavenly day, now night is past, At least in heaven on high, When we have chang'd this mortal place And of such haps and heav'nly joys All earthly sight and worldly toys The day is like the day of doom, The sun the Son of man, The skies the heaven, the earth the tomb GOOD MORROW. The rainbow bending in the sky, The misty clouds that fall sometime, Are like to troubles of our time The little birds which sing so sweet And as they more esteem that mirth Unto which joys for to attain 163 |