Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/213

 142. Dirge of the Three Queens

and odours bring away! Vapours, sighs, darken the day! Our dole more deadly looks than dying; Balms and gums and heavy cheers, Sacred vials fill'd with tears, And clamours through the wild air flying!

Come, all sad and solemn shows, That are quick-eyed Pleasure's foes! We convènt naught else but woes.

? or John Fletcher. 142. dole] lamentation. convent] summon. 143. Orpheus

Orpheus with his lute made trees And the mountain tops that freeze Bow themselves when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring.

Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.

? or John Fletcher.