Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/91

 May chance thee lie wither'd and old The winter nights that are so cold, Plaining in vain unto the moon: Thy wishes then dare not be told: Care then who list! for I have done.

And then may chance thee to repent The time that thou has lost and spent To cause thy lover's sigh and swoon: Then shalt thou know beauty but lent, And wish and want as I have done.

Now cease, my lute! this is the last Labour that thou and I shall waste, And ended is that we begun: Now is this song both sung and past— My lute, be still, for I have done.

HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY

1516-47

39. Description of Spring

Wherein each thing renews, save only the Lover

The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings, With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale: The nightingale with feathers new she sings; The turtle to her make hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs: The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings; The fishes flete with new repairèd scale.

39. make] mate.