FLY hence, shadows, that do keep Watchful sorrows charm'd in sleep! Tho' the eyes be overtaken, Yet the heart doth ever waken Thoughts chain'd up in busy snares Of continual woes and cares: Love and griefs are so exprest As they rather sigh than rest. Fly hence, shadows, that do keep Watchful sorrows charm'd in sleep! George Wither. 1588-1667 236. I loved a Lass I LOVED a lass, a fair one, As fair as e'er was seen; She was indeed a rare one, Another Sheba Queen: But, fool as then I was, I thought she loved me too: But now, alas! she 's left me, Falero, lero, loo! Her hair like gold did glister, Each eye was like a star, She did surpass her sister, Which pass'd all others far; She would me honey call, She'd--O she'd kiss me too! But now, alas! she 's left me, Falero, lero, loo! Many a merry meeting My love and I have had; She was my only sweeting, She made my heart full glad; The tears stood in her eyes Like to the morning dew: But now, alas! she 's left me, Falero, lero, loo! Her cheeks were like the cherry, Her skin was white as snow; When she was blithe and merry She angel-like did show; Her waist exceeding small, The fives did fit her shoe: But now, alas! she 's left me, Falero, lero, loo! In summer time or winter She had her heart's desire; I still did scorn to stint her From sugar, sack, or fire; The world went round about, No cares we ever knew: But now, alas! she 's left me, Falero, lero, loo! To maidens' vows and swearing Henceforth no credit give; You may give them the hearing, But never them believe; They are as false as fair, Unconstant, frail, untrue: For mine, alas! hath left me, Falero, lero, loo! George Wither. 1588-1667 237. The Lover's Resolution SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman 's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flow'ry meads in May, If she think not well of me, What care I how fair she be? Shall my silly heart be pined 'Cause I see a woman kind? Or a well disposed nature Joined with a lovely feature? Be she meeker, kinder, than Turtle-dove or pelican, If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be? Shall a woman's virtues move Me to perish for her love? Or her well-deservings known Make me quite forget my own? Be she with that goodness blest Which may merit name of Best, If she be not such to me, What care I how good she be? 'Cause her fortune seems too high, Shall I play the fool and die? She that bears a noble mind, If not outward helps she find, Thinks what with them he would do That without them dares her woo; And unless that mind I see, What care I how great she be? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair; If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve; If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go; For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be? George Wither. 1588-1667