50
TO DAISIES, NOT TO SHUT SO SOON.
Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night
Ha's not as yet begunne
To make a seizure on the light,
Or to seale up the sunne.
No marigolds yet closed are,
No shadowes greate appeare;
Nor doth the early shepheard's starre
Shine like a spangle here.
Stay but till my Julia close
Her life-begetting eye;
And let the whole world then dispose
It selfe to live or dye.
Among the poetic groups of Spring Flowers, culled from the rich parterre of Britain's noble and immortal Bards, I cannot omit the following exquisite description of the vernal season, by Gawain Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld. The epithets in it are often peculiarly happy; but to those of my readers who think Chaucer's language obscure, these truly beautiful lines will seem utterly unintelligible, even with the glossary appended.
