5 Come, let us go, while we are in our prime, And take the harmless folly of the time: We shall grow old apace, and die Before we know our liberty: Our life is short, and our days run As fast away as does the sun: And, as a vapour, or a drop of rain, Once lost, can ne'er be found again, So when or you, or I, are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade, All love, all liking, all delight Lies drown'd with us in endless night. Then, while time serves, and we are but decaying, Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying! JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER. 1 O thou, the wonder of all days! O paragon and pearl of praise! O Virgin Martyr! ever bless'd Above the rest Of all the maiden train! we come, And bring fresh strewings to thy tomb. 2 Thus, thus, and thus we compass round Thy harmless and enchanted ground; And, as we sing thy dirge, we will The daffodil And other flowers lay upon The altar of our love, thy stone. 3 Thou wonder of all maids! list here, Of daughters all the dearest dear; The eye of virgins, nay, the queen Of this smooth green, And all sweet meads, from whence we get The primrose and the violet. 4 Too soon, too dear did Jephthah buy, By thy sad loss, our liberty: His was the bond and cov'nant; yet Thou paid'st the debt, Lamented maid! He won the day, But for the conquest thou didst pay. 5 Thy father brought with him along The olive branch and victor's song: He slew the Ammonites, we know, But to thy woe; And, in the purchase of our peace, The cure was worse than the disease. 6 For which obedient zeal of thine, We offer thee, before thy shrine, Our sighs for storax, tears for wine; And to make fine And fresh thy hearse-cloth, we will here Four times bestrew thee every year. 7 Receive, for this thy praise, our tears; Receive this offering of our hairs; Receive these crystal vials, fill'd With tears distill'd From teeming eyes; to these we bring, Each maid, her silver filleting, 8 To gild thy tomb; besides, these cauls, These laces, ribands, and these fauls, These veils, wherewith we used to hide The bashful bride, When we conduct her to her groom: All, all, we lay upon thy tomb. 9 No more, no more, since thou art dead, Shall we e'er bring coy brides to bed; No more at yearly festivals We cowslip balls Or chains of columbines shall make For this or that occasion's sake. 10 No, no; our maiden pleasures be Wrapt in a winding-sheet with thee; 'Tis we are dead, though not i' th' grave, Or if we have One seed of life left,'tis to keep A Lent for thee, to fast and weep.