Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/277

 Love the strong and weak doth yoke, And makes the ivy climb the oak, Under whose shadows lions wild, Soften'd by love, grow tame and mild: Love no med'cine can appease, He burns the fishes in the seas: Not all the skill his wounds can stench, Not all the sea his fire can quench. Love did make the bloody spear Once a leavy coat to wear, While in his leaves there shrouded lay Sweet birds, for love that sing and play And of all love's joyful flame I the bud and blossom am. Only bend thy knee to me, Thy wooing shall thy winning be

See, see the flowers that below Now as fresh as morning blow; And of all the virgin rose That as bright Aurora shows; How they all unleavèd die, Losing their virginity! Like unto a summer shade, But now born, and now they fade. Every thing doth pass away; There is danger in delay: Come, come, gather then the rose, Gather it, or it you lose ! All the sand of Tagus' shore Into my bosom casts his ore: All the valleys' swimming corn To my house is yearly borne: