Take thou this rose, O Rose! the loves in the rose repose: I with love of the rose am caught at the winter's close: Take thou this flower, my flower, and cherish it in thy bower: Thou in thy beauty's power shalt lovelier blow each hour: Gaze at the rose, and smile, my rose, in mine eyes the while: To thee the roses belong, thy voice is the nightingale's song: Give thou the rose a kiss, it blushes like thy mouth's bliss: Flowers in a picture seem not flowers, but flowers in a dream: Who paints the rose's bloom, paints not the rose's perfume. In complete contrast to this conceited and euphuistic style of composition stands a slight snatch of rustic melody, consisting of little but reiteration and refrain. A BIRD'S SONG OF LOVE. No. 31. Come to me, come, O come! Let me not die, but come! Hyria hysria nazaza Trillirivos. Fair is thy face, O fair! Fair thine eyes, O how fair! Hyria hysria nazaza Trillirivos. Fair is thy flowing hair! O fair, O fair, how fair! Hyria hysria nazaza Trillirivos. Redder than rose art thou, Whiter than lily thou! Hyria hysria nazaza Trillirivos. Fairer than all, I vow, Ever my pride art thou! Hyria hysria nazaza Trillirivos. The following displays an almost classical intensity of voluptuous passion, and belongs in all probability to a period later than the _Carmina Burana_. I have ventured, in translating it, to borrow the structure of a song which occurs in Fletcher's _Rollo_ (act v. scene 2), the first stanza of which is also found in Shakespeare's _Measure for Measure_ (act iv. scene 1), and to insert one or two phrases from Fletcher's version. Whether the composer of that song had ever met with the Latin lyric to Lydia can scarcely form the subject of critical conjecture. Yet there is a faint evanescent resemblance between the two poems. TO LYDIA. No. 32. Lydia bright, thou girl more white Than the milk of morning new, Or young lilies in the light! Matched with thy rose-whiteness, hue Of red rose or white rose pales, And the polished ivory fails, Ivory fails. Spread, O spread, my girl, thy hair, Amber-hued and heavenly bright, As fine gold or golden air! Show, O show thy throat so white, Throat and neck that marble fine Over thy white breasts incline, Breasts incline. Lift, O lift thine eyes that are Underneath those eyelids dark, Lustrous as the evening star 'Neath the dark heaven's purple arc! Bare, O bare thy cheeks of rose, Dyed with Tyrian red that glows, Red that glows.