COME LIVE WITH ME.

COME, live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That valleys, groves, or hills, or field,
Or woods and steepy mountains yield.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies :

A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we'll pull,

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.

MARLOW.

"Et nos cedamus amori." 3. Ext.x, 69.

MOPSUS. MOPSI vive sodalis, ames age, Lydia,

amantem!

Ruris uti cunctas experiamur opes:

Quot vallis, juga, saltus, ager, quot amœna ministret Mons gravis ascensu, quot vel amœna nemus.

Sæpius acclines saxo spectare juvarit

Ducat uti pastum Thyrsis herile pecus; Sub vada rivorum, queis adsilientibus infra Concordes avibus suave loquantur aves.

Ipse rosas, queis fulta cubes caput, ipse recentum Quidquid alant florum pascua mille, feram:

Pro læna tibi vellus erit, neque tenuior usquam, Me socio teneras quo spoliaris oves.

Cantabunt salientque tibi pastoria pubes,
Maia novum quoties jusserit ire diem:
Quæ si forte tibi sint oblectamina cordi,
Vive comes Mopsi, Lydia, amantis amans.

IF all the world and love were young;
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb,

The rest complain of cares to come.

But could youth last and love still breed,
Had joys no date nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.

RALEIGH.

LYDIA. FINGE nec huic mundo nec amoribus esse

senectam ;

Pastorumque labris usque subesse fidem:

His forte illecebris (est his sua namque venustas) Mota, comes Mopsi viverem, amantis amans.

Tempus agit pecudes campis in ovile relictis;
Fitque ferox fluvius frigidiusque jugum.
Dediscit Philomela modos et conticet ultro;
Venturis querimur cætera turba malis.

Sin amor assidua subolesceret usque juventa,
Nec joca cessarent, pluris egeret anus:

His equidem illecebris (est his sua namque venustas)
Mota comes Mopsi viverem, amantis amans.

WHILE MUSING THUS.

WHILE musing thus, with contemplation fed And thousand fancies buzzing in my brain, The sweet-tongued Philomel perched o'er my head, And chanted forth a most melodious strain, Which rapt me so with wonder and delight, I judged my hearing better than my sight, And wished me wings with her awhile to take my flight.

"O merry bird!" said I, "that fears no snares, That neither toils, nor hoards up in thy barns, Feels no sad thought, nor cruciating cares To gain more good, or shun what might thee harm;

Thy clothes ne'er wear, thy meat is every where, Thy bed a bough, thy drink the water clear, Remind'st not what is past, nor what's to come dost fear."