Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/334

 I'll take my pipe and try The Phrygian melody; Which he that hears, Lets through his ears A madness to distemper all the brain: Then I another pipe will take And Doric music make, To civilize with graver notes our wits again.

SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT

1606-1668

301. Aubade

The lark now leaves his wat'ry nest, And climbing shakes his dewy wings. He takes this window for the East, And to implore your light he sings— Awake, awake! the morn will never rise Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.

The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, The ploughman from the sun his season takes; But still the lover wonders what they are Who look for day before his mistress wakes. Awake, awake! break thro' your veils of lawn! Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn!

302. To a Mistress Dying

Lover. Your beauty, ripe and calm and fresh As eastern summers are, Must now, forsaking time and flesh, Add light to some small star.