THOMAS RANDOLPH

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 tnke

And Doric music make, To civilize with graver notes our wits again.

��SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT

3 oz. Aubade

HTHE 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. \fOUR beauty, ripe and calm and fresh

As eastern summers are, Must now, forsaking time and flesh,

Add light to some small star.

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