Mortality, behold and fear! What a change of flesh is here! Think how many royal bones Sleep within this heap of stones: Here they lie had realms and lands, Who now want strength to stir their hands: Where from their pulpits seal’d with dust They preach, ‘In greatness is no trust.’ Here’s an acre sown indeed With the richest, royall’st seed That the earth did e’er suck in Since the first man died for sin: Here the bones of birth have cried-- ‘Though gods they were, as men they died.’ Here are sands, ignoble things, Dropt from the ruin’d sides of kings; Here’s a world of pomp and state, Buried in dust, once dead by fate. JOHN FORD 1586-1639 _235._ _Dawn_ 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_! _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?