Leave me, O Love! which reachest but to dust; And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things: Grow rich in that which never taketh rust; What ever fades, but fading pleasure brings. Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might 5 To that sweet yoke, where lasting freedoms be, Which breaks the clouds, and opens forth the light, That doth both shine, and give us sight to see. O take fast hold! let that light be thy guide, In this small course, which birth draws out to death, 10 My Phillis hath the morning sun That leaps since she doth own them. George Peele c. 1558-c. 1598 SONG 1 5 Thus charged he; nor Argicides denied, But to his feet his fair wing'd shoes he tied, Ambrosian, golden; that in his command Put either sea, or the unmeasured land, With pace as speedy as a puft of wind. Then up his rod went, with which he declined The eyes of any waker, when he pleased, And any sleeper, when he wish'd, diseased. This took; he stoop'd Pieria, and thence Glid through the air, and Neptune's confluence, Kiss'd as he flew, and check'd the waves as light 11 As any sea-mew in her fishing flight |