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By Lorenz, Edmund S. (Edmund Simon)
2 There's no time for idle scorning,
While the days are going by;
Let your face be like the morning,
While the days are going by;
Oh, the world is full of sighs,
Full of sad and weeping eyes;
Help your fallen brother rise,
By Lorenz, Edmund S. (Edmund Simon)
3 Round each habitation hovering,
See the cloud and tire appear,
For a glory and a covering,
Showing that the Lord is near!
Thus deriving from their banner,
Light by night, and shade by day,
Safe they feed upon the manna
By Lorenz, Edmund S. (Edmund Simon)
2 Where blooms the broad savanna,
Where mighty waters roll,
There let the gospel banner
Beam hope on every soul;
Go where the west is teeming,
And yet behold they come!
The fields all ripe are gleaming
For those who reap at home!
By Lorenz, Edmund S. (Edmund Simon)
3 We shall see and be like Jesus,
By and by, by and by;
Who a crown of life will give us,
By and by, by and by;
And the angels who fulfill
All the mandates of his will
Shall attend, and love us still,
By Lorenz, Edmund S. (Edmund Simon)
2 Shall I be at work, for Jesus,
Whilst he leads me by the hand,
And to those around be saying,
Come and join this happy band?
Come, for all things now are ready,
Come, his faithful foll'wer be;
Oh, where'er my path be leading,
By Lorenz, Edmund S. (Edmund Simon)
3 Oh, that each, in the day
Of his coming, may say,
"I have fought my way through;
I have finished the work thou didst give me to do;"
Oh, that each from his Lord
May receive the glad word,
"Well and faithfully done;
Enter into my joy and sit down on my throne"
IF[2] my lady bid begin,
Shall I say "No: 'tis a sin"?
If she bid me kiss and play,
Shall I shrink, cold fool, away?
If she clap my cheeks and spy
Little Cupids in my eye,
Gripe my hand and stroke my hair,
Shall I like a faint heart fear?
No, no, no: let those that lie
In dismal prison, and would die,
Despair and fear; let those that cry
They are forsaken and would fly,
Whilst the world continued good,
And men loved for flesh and blood,
Men about them wore a dart
Which did win a woman's heart;
And the women, great and small,
With a certain thing they call
_Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me_, caught the men:
This, Phillis, this shall be our talk
Whilst hand in hand we gently walk;
Then down we'll sit in yonder shade
A myrtle has for lovers made;
And when I've called thee duck and dear,
And wooed thee with a sigh or tear,
If love, or pity on thy swain,
Move Phillis' heart to cure my pain,
Then like two billing turtles we
How prettily his feathers blow
Those fleshy shuttings to and fro!
O how he makes me Tantalise
With those fair apples of thine eyes!
Equivocates and cheats me still,
Opening and shutting at his will,
Now both, now one! the doting god
But I, poor harmless civil I,
Begg'd for the meanest coolest joy,
And saw denial in your eye;
For with a squeamish glance you cried
"I hate the nauseous bliss."
"'Tis well," said I; "since I'm denied,
For rocks of diamonds I'll not kiss."
I'd ha' thee, quoth he. Would you ha' me, quoth she?
But where, sir?
To my chamber, quoth he. To your chamber, quoth she?
Why there, sir?
I'd kiss thee, quoth he. Would you kiss me, quoth she?
But when, sir?
Why now, quoth he. Neither now, quoth she,
I am sickish, quoth he. Are you sickish, quoth she?
But why, sir?
'Cause you slight me, quoth he. Do I slight you, quoth she?
'Tis a lie, sir.
I'm dying, quoth he. O dying, quoth she?
Are you sure on't?
'Tis certain, quoth he. Is't certain, quoth she?
_Phillis._ O I dare not.
_Strephon._ 'Twill not hurt you.
_Phillis._ No, I care not.
_Strephon._ Then I prithee, sweet, tell me the reason.
_Phillis._ Will you marry?
_Strephon._ Yes, to-morrow.
_Phillis._ Till then tarry.
_Strephon._ I would borrow.
_Phillis._ Fruit is best when gathered in season.
Now pray then tell me, and withal
Pray be not too-too partial,
Doth not one feature[21] now in mine
Appear more lovely than all thine?
No airy objects will me[22] move,
It is the sober black I love:
I love't so well that I protest
I love the blackest parts the best.
When I was fifteen years of age
Then I had suitors many,
But I, a wanton peevish wench,
Would not sport with any;
Till at the last, I sleeping fast,
Cupid came to woo me,
And like a lad that was stark mad
In fields by Phoebus great with young
Of flowers and hopeful buds,
Resembling thoughts that freshly sprung
In lovers' lively bloods,
A damsel fair and fine I saw,
So fair and finely dight,
As put my heart almost in awe
Subscribed with a line of love,
My name for her I wrote;
In silk for me her name she wove
Whereto this was her mot,[42]
"As shall this year thy truth appear,
I still, my dear, am thine";
"Your mate today, and love for aye,
Whilst they did embrace unspied,
The conscious willow seem'd to smile,
That them[62] with privacy supplied,
Holding the door, as 'twere, the while;
And when their dalliances were o'er,
The willows, to oblige them more,
Bowing, did seem to say, as they withdrew,
"We can supply you with a cradle too."
The wench that is most coy of all,
If she had time and leisure,
Would lay by all her several thoughts
And turn to love and pleasure;
For even the wisest heads sometimes
Put on the face of folly,
And maids do nevermore repent