Lyrics: Thomas Stanley

I. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1647.

THE DREAM.

That I might ever dream thus! that some power To my eternal sleep would join this hour! So, willingly deceiv'd, I might possess In seeming joys a real happiness. Haste not away: O do not dissipate A pleasure thou so lately didst create! Stay, welcome Sleep; be ever here confin'd: Or if thou wilt away, leave her behind.

DESPAIR.

No, no, poor blasted Hope! Since I (with thee) have lost the scope Of all my joys, I will no more Vainly implore The unrelenting Destinies: He that can equally sustain The strong assaults of joy and pain, May safely laugh at their decrees.

Despair, to thee I bow, Whose constancy disdains t'allow Those childish passions that destroy Our fickle joy; How cruel Fates so e'er appear, Their harmless anger I despise, And fix'd, can neither fall nor rise, Thrown below hope, but rais'd 'bove fear.

THE PICTURE.

Thou that both feel'st and dost admire The flames shot from a painted fire, Know Celia's image thou dost see: Not to herself more like is she. He that should both together view Would judge both pictures, or both true. But thus they differ: the best part Of Nature this is; that of Art.

OPINION.

Whence took the diamond worth? the borrow'd rays That crystal wears, whence had they first their praise? Why should rude feet contemn the snow's chaste white, Which from the sun receives a sparkling light, Brighter than diamonds far, and by its birth Decks the green garment of the richer earth? Rivers than crystal clearer, when to ice Congeal'd, why do weak judgements so despise? Which, melting, show that to impartial sight Weeping than smiling crystal is more bright. But Fancy those first priz'd, and these did scorn, Taking their praise the other to adorn. Thus blind is human sight: opinion gave To their esteem a birth, to theirs a grave; Nor can our judgements with these clouds dispense, Since reason sees but with the eyes of sense.

II. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1651.

THE CURE.

Nymph.

What busy cares, too timely born, Young swain! disturb thy sleep? Thy early sighs awake the morn, Thy tears teach her to weep.

Shepherd.

Sorrows, fair nymph, are full alone, Nor counsel can endure.

Nymph.

Yet thine disclose; for, until known, Sickness admits no cure.

Shepherd.

My griefs are such as but to hear Would poison all thy joys; The pity which thou seem'st to bear My health, thine own destroys.

Nymph.

How can diseased minds infect? Say what thy grief doth move!

Shepherd.

Call up thy virtue to protect Thy heart, and know--'twas love.

Nymph.

Fond swain!

Shepherd.

By which I have been long Destin'd to meet with hate.

Nymph.

Fie! shepherd, fie! thou dost love wrong, To call thy crime thy fate.

Shepherd.

Alas! what cunning could decline, What force can love repel?

Nymph.

Yet there's a way to unconfine Thy heart.

Shepherd.

For pity, tell.

Nymph.

Choose one whose love may be assur'd By thine: who ever knew Inveterate diseases cur'd But by receiving new?

Shepherd.

All will, like her, my soul perplex.

Nymph.

Yet try.

Shepherd.

Oh, could there be But any softness in that sex, I'd wish it were in thee!

Nymph.

Thy prayer is heard: learn now t'esteem The kindness she hath shown, Who, thy lost freedom to redeem, Hath forfeited her own.