Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/290

WILLIAM BROWNE 246.

NDERNEATH this sable herse Lies the subject of all verse: Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother: Death, ere thou hast slain another Fair and learn'd and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee.



ROBERT HERRICK

247.

ET up, get up for shame! The blooming morn Upon her wings presents the god unshorn. See how Aurora throws her fair Fresh-quilted colours through the air: Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see The dew bespangling herb and tree! Each flower has wept and bow'd toward the east Above an hour since, yet you not drest; Nay! not so much as out of bed? When all the birds have matins said And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin, Nay, profanation, to keep in, Whereas a thousand virgins on this day Spring sooner than the lark, to fetch in May.

Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green, And sweet as Flora. Take no care For jewels for your gown or hair: Fear not; the leaves will strew Gems in abundance upon you: 