Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900/Aspatia's Song

by John Fletcher

For other versions of this work, see Lay a garland.

My love was false, but I was firm
  From my hour of birth.
Upon my buried body lie
  Lightly, gentle earth!

210. Hymn to Pan

Sing his praises that doth keep
  Our flocks from harm,
Pan, the father of our sheep;
  And arm in arm
Tread we softly in a round,
Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground
Fills the music with her sound.

Pan, O great god Pan, to thee
  Thus do we sing!
Thou who keep'st us chaste and free
  As the young spring:
Ever be thy honour spoke
From that place the morn is broke
To that place day doth unyoke!

211. Away, Delights

Away, delights! go seek some other dwelling,
          For I must die.
Farewell, false love! thy tongue is ever telling
          Lie after lie.
For ever let me rest now from thy smarts;
          Alas, for pity go
          And fire their hearts
That have been hard to thee! Mine was not so.