One more by thee, love, and desert have sent, T' enspangle this expansive firmament. O flame of beauty! come, appear, appear A virgin taper, ever shining here. 517. CHANGE GIVES CONTENT. What now we like anon we disapprove: _The new successor drives away old love_. 519. ON HIMSELF. Born I was to meet with age, And to walk life's pilgrimage. Much I know of time is spent, Tell I can't what's resident. Howsoever, cares, adieu! I'll have nought to say to you: But I'll spend my coming hours Drinking wine and crown'd with flowers. _Resident_, remaining. 520. FORTUNE FAVOURS. Fortune did never favour one Fully, without exception; Though free she be, there's something yet Still wanting to her favourite. 521. TO PHYLLIS, TO LOVE AND LIVE WITH HIM. Live, live with me, and thou shall see The pleasures I'll prepare for thee; What sweets the country can afford Shall bless thy bed and bless thy board. The soft, sweet moss shall be thy bed With crawling woodbine over-spread; By which the silver-shedding streams Shall gently melt thee into dreams. Thy clothing, next, shall be a gown Made of the fleece's purest down. The tongues of kids shall be thy meat, Their milk thy drink; and thou shalt eat The paste of filberts for thy bread, With cream of cowslips buttered; Thy feasting-tables shall be hills With daisies spread and daffodils, Where thou shalt sit, and red-breast by, For meat, shall give thee melody. I'll give thee chains and carcanets Of primroses and violets. A bag and bottle thou shalt have, That richly wrought, and this as brave; So that as either shall express The wearer's no mean shepherdess. At shearing-times, and yearly wakes, When Themilis his pastime makes, There thou shalt be; and be the wit, Nay, more, the feast, and grace of it. On holidays, when virgins meet To dance the heyes with nimble feet, Thou shall come forth, and then appear The queen of roses for that year; And having danced, 'bove all the best, Carry the garland from the rest. In wicker baskets maids shall bring To thee, my dearest shepherling, The blushing apple, bashful pear, And shame-fac'd plum, all simp'ring there. Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find The name of Phyllis in the rind Of every straight and smooth-skin tree; Where kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee. To thee a sheep-hook I will send, Be-prank'd with ribands to this end; This, this alluring hook might be Less for to catch a sheep than me. Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine, Not made of ale, but spiced wine, To make thy maids and self free mirth, All sitting near the glitt'ring hearth. Thou shalt have ribands, roses, rings, Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes, and strings Of winning colours, that shall move