English Songs and Ballads Part 15

Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it; My part of death no one so true Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.

A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, where Sad true lover ne'er find my grave To weep there.

A SEA DIRGE

Full fathom five thy father lies: Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange.

Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Hark! now I hear them,-- Ding, dong, bell.

OPHELIA'S SONG

How should I your true love know From another one?

By his c.o.c.kle hat and staff, And his sandal shoon.

He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a gra.s.s-green turf, At his heels a stone.

White his shroud as the mountain snow, Larded with sweet flowers; Which bewept to the grave did go With true-love showers.

And will he not come again?

And will he not come again?

No, no, he is dead: Go to thy death-bed: He never will come again.

His beard was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll: He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan: G.o.d ha' mercy on his soul!

WHEN DAISIES PIED

When daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!

When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!

IT WAS A LOVER

It was a lover and his la.s.s, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green cornfield did pa.s.s In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: Sweet lovers love the spring.

Between the acres of the rye, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, These pretty country folks would lie, In spring time, etc.

This carol they began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that a life was but a flower In spring time, etc.

And therefore take the present time, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino; For love is crowned with the prime In spring time, etc.

SWEET AND TWENTY

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?

O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 'tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.

MUSIC

Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring.

Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by.

In sweet music is such art, Killing-care and grief-of-heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.

THE PEDLAR

Lawn as white as driven snow; Cypress black as e'er was crow; Gloves as sweet as damask roses; Masks for faces and for noses; Bugle bracelet, necklace amber, Perfume for a lady's chamber; Golden quoifs and stomachers, For my lads to give their dears: Pins and poking-sticks of steel, What maids lack from head to heel: Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy; Buy, lads, or else your la.s.ses cry: Come buy.

SOLDIER'S SONG

And let me the canakin clink, clink; And let me the canakin clink: A soldier's a man; A life's but a span; Why, then, let a soldier drink.

King Stephen was a worthy peer, His breeches cost him but a crown; He held them sixpence all too dear, With that he call'd the tailor lown.