SONGS. WHO IS SILVIA ?1 Who is Silvia? What is she, That all our swains commend her? The heavens such grace did lend her, Is she kind as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness. Love doth to her eyes repair To help him of his blindness, Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling: To her let us garlands bring. A SONG OF SPRING AND WINTER.2 I. THE CUCKOO. When daisies pied and violets blue And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he,- Cuckoo, cuckoo,—Ó word of fear, When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, Mocks married men; for thus sings he,- Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear, 1 From The Two Gentlemen of Verona. 2 From Love's Labour's Lost. II. THE OWL. When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick, the shepherd, blows his nail, And milk comes frozen home in pail, Tu-whit, to-who,-a merry note ! When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, Tu-whit, to-who,-a merry note! But doth suffer a sea-change Hark, now I hear them,-Ding, dong, bell! BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND.1 Blow, blow, thou winter wind! As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky! Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp Ás friend remembered not. Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly: SONG OF THE SPINSTERS AND KNITTERS IN THE SUN." "2 Come away, come away, Death, And in sad cypress 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 Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown ; My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown :' 1 From As You Like It. 2 From Twelfth Night; or What You Will. A thousand thousand sighs to save, Sad true lover never find my grave, OPHELIA'S SONGS.1 I. "How should I your true love know "He is dead and gone, lady, At his heels a stone. "White his shroud as the mountain snow, II. And will he not come again? Go to thy death-bed : He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan; God 'a' mercy on his soul ! SERENADE.2 Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings; And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs 1 From Hamlet. On chaliced flowers that lies ;3 2 From Cymbeline. 3 The relative is often made, by Shakespeare, to take a singular verb, though 1e antecedent be plural. And winking Mary-buds begin THE DIRGE OF IMOGEN.1 Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Fear no more the frown o' the great; To thee the reed is as the oak: Fear no more the lightning-flash, Thou hast finished joy and moan: No exorciser harm thee! Nor no witchcraft charm thee! Quiet consummation have; THOMAS NASH. (1567-1600?) THE names of Nash, Peele, Greene, Marlowe, and Shakespeare are associated in the history of the early Elizabethan drama; but none of the first four of this group outlived the 1 From Cymbeline. |