Sister, awake! close not your eyes! The day her light discloses, And the bright morning doth arise Out of her bed of roses. See, the clear sun, the world's bright eye, In at our window peeping: Lo! how he blusheth to espy Us idle wenches sleeping. Therefore, awake! make haste, I say, And let us, without staying, All in our gowns of green so gay Into the park a-maying. From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). Sleep, angry beauty, sleep and fear not me! For who a sleeping lion dares provoke? It shall suffice me here to sit and see Those lips shut up that never kindly spoke: What sight can more content a lover's mind Than beauty seeming harmless, if not kind? My words have charmed her, for secure she sleeps, Though guilty much of wrong done to my love; And in her slumber, see! she close-eyed weeps: Dreams often more than waking passions move. Plead, Sleep, my cause, and make her soft like thee: That she in peace may wake and pity me. From JOHN WILBYE's _Second Set of Madrigals_, 1609. So light is love, in matchless beauty shining, When he revisits Cypris' hallowed bowers, Two feeble doves, harness'd in silken twining, Can draw his chariot midst the Paphian flowers, Lightness in love! how ill it fitteth! So heavy on my heart he sitteth. From WILLIAM CORKINE's _Airs_, 1610. Some can flatter, some can feign, Simple truth shall plead for me; Let not beauty truth disdain, Truth is even as fair as she. But since pairs must equal prove, Let my strength her youth oppose, Love her beauty, faith her love; On even terms so may we close. Cork or lead in equal weight Both one just proportion yield, So may breadth be peis'd[14] with height, Steepest mount with plainest field. Virtues have not all one kind, Yet all virtues merit be, Divers virtues are combined; Differing so, deserts agree. Let then love and beauty meet, Making one divine concent Constant as the sounds and sweet, That enchant the firmament. [14] Balanced. From CAMPION and ROSSETER's _Book of Airs_, 1601. Sweet, come again! Your happy sight, so much desired Since you from hence are now retired, I seek in vain: Still I must mourn, And pine in longing pain, Till you, my life's delight, again Vouchsafe your wish'd return. If true desire, Or faithful vow of endless love, Thy heart inflamed may kindly move With equal fire; O then my joys, So long distraught, shall rest, Reposed soft in thy chaste breast, Exempt from all annoys.