From JOHN COPRARIO's _Funeral Tears, etc._, 1606. In darkness let me dwell, the ground shall sorrow be, The roof despair to bar all cheerful light from me, The walls of marble black that moistened still shall weep, My music hellish jarring sounds to banish friendly sleep: Thus wedded to my woes, and bedded in my tomb O let me dying live till death doth come. My dainties grief shall be, and tears my poisoned wine, My sighs the air through which my panting heart shall pine, My robes my mind shall suit exceeding blackest night, My study shall be tragic thoughts sad fancy to delight, Pale ghosts and frightful shades shall my acquaintance be: O thus, my hapless joy, I haste to thee. From JOHN MUNDY's _Songs and Psalms_, 1594. In midst of woods or pleasant grove, Where all sweet birds do sing, Methought I heard so rare a sound Which made the heavens to ring. The charm was good, the noise full sweet, Each bird did play his part; And I admired to hear the same, Joy sprang into my heart. The black bird made the sweetest sound, Whose tunes did far excel; Full pleasantly, and most profound Was all things placed well. Thy pretty tunes, mine own sweet bird, Done with so good a grace, Extolls thy name, prefers the same Abroad in every place. Thy music grave, bedecked well With sundry points of skill, Bewrays thy knowledge excellent Ingrafted in thy will. My tongue shall speak, my pen shall write In praise of thee to tell; The sweetest bird that ever was, In friendly sort farewell. From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals_, 1598. In pride of May The fields are gay, The birds do sweetly sing. Fa la la! So Nature would That all things should With joy begin the spring. Fa la la! Then, Lady dear, Do you appear In beauty like the spring: Fa la la! I dare well say The birds that day More cheerfully will sing. Fa la la! From ROBERT JONES's _Musical Dream_, 1609. {Pheugein de ton Erota kenos ponos.}--_Archias_. In Sherwood lived stout Robin Hood, An archer great, none greater, His bow and shafts were sure and good, Yet Cupid's were much better; Robin could shoot at many a hart and miss, Cupid at first could hit a heart of his. Hey, jolly Robin Hood, ho jolly Robin Hood, Love finds out me As well as thee, To follow me to the green-wood. A noble thief was Robin Hood, Wise was he could deceive him; Yet Marian in his bravest mood Could of his heart bereave him: No greater thief lies hidden under skies, Than beauty closely lodged in women's eyes. Hey, jolly Robin, &c.