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570. TO SILVIA.
No more, my Silvia, do I mean to pray
For those good days that ne'er will come away.
I want belief; O gentle Silvia, be
The patient saint, and send up vows for me.
For those good days that ne'er will come away.
I want belief; O gentle Silvia, be
The patient saint, and send up vows for me.
573. THE POET HATH LOST HIS PIPE.
I cannot pipe as I was wont to do,
Broke is my reed, hoarse is my singing, too;
My wearied oat I'll hang upon the tree,
And give it to the sylvan deity.
Broke is my reed, hoarse is my singing, too;
My wearied oat I'll hang upon the tree,
And give it to the sylvan deity.
574. TRUE FRIENDSHIP.
Wilt thou my true friend be?
Then love not mine, but me.
Then love not mine, but me.
575. THE APPARITION OF HIS MISTRESS CALLING HIM TO ELYSIUM.
Desunt nonnulla ——
Come then, and like two doves with silv'ry wings,
Let our souls fly to th' shades where ever springs
Sit smiling in the meads; where balm and oil,
Roses and cassia crown the untill'd soil.
Where no disease reigns, or infection comes
To blast the air, but ambergris and gums
This, that, and ev'ry thicket doth transpire,
Let our souls fly to th' shades where ever springs
Sit smiling in the meads; where balm and oil,
Roses and cassia crown the untill'd soil.
Where no disease reigns, or infection comes
To blast the air, but ambergris and gums
This, that, and ev'ry thicket doth transpire,
