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If she be dead, then take my horse,
My saddle and bridle also;
Where no man shall me know.
O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth,
She standeth by thy side;
And ready to be thy bride.
O farewell grief, and welcome joy,
Ten thousand times therefore; For now I have found mine own true love, Whom I thought I should never see more.
Why, why repine, my pensive friend,
At pleasures slipp'd away?
And all refuse to stay.
I see the rainbow in the sky,
grass; I see them, and I ask not why
They glimmer or they pass.
With folded arms I linger not
To call them back; 't were vain:
WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR
A CHRISTMAS CAROL
So now is come our joyful'st feast;
Let every man be jolly.
And every post with holly.
And let us all be merry.
Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke,
And Christmas-blocks are burning; Their ovens they with baked meat choke,
And all their spits are turning. Without the door let sorrow lie; And, if for cold it hap to die, We'll bury it in a Christmas pie
And evermore be merry!
Now every lad is wondrous trim,
And no man minds his labour; Our lasses have provided them
A bag-pipe and a tabor. Young men, and maids, and girls, and boys, Give life to one another's joys, And you anon shall by their noise
Perceive that they are merry.
Rank misers now do sparing shun;
Their hall of music soundeth;
And dogs thence with whole shoulders run;
So all things there aboundeth.
And all the town be merry!
Ned Swash hath fetch'd his bands from pawn,
And all his best apparel;
With droppings of the barrel;
And all the day be merry.
Now poor men to the justices
With capons make their arrants, And if they hap to fail of these
They plague them with their warrants. But now they feed them with good cheer, And what they want they take in beer, For Christmas comes but once a year,
And then they shall be merry.
Good farmers in the country nurse
poor that else were undone;
On lust and pride in London. There the roysters they do play, Drab and dice their lands away,
Which may be ours another day,
And therefore let's be merry!
The client now his suit forbears;
The prisoner's heart is eased;
And for the time is pleased.
And therefore let's be merry!
Hark! now the wags abroad do call
Each other forth to rambling; Anon you'll see them in the hall,
For nuts and apples scrambling. Hark how the roofs with laughters sound! Anon they'll think the house goes round, For they the cellar's depth have found,
And there they will be merry.
The wenches with their wassail-bowls
About the streets are singing,
The wild mare in is bringing.
And here they will be merry.
Now kings and queens poor sheepcotes have,
And mate with everybody;
The honest now may play the knave,
And wise men play at noddy.
Because they will be merry.
Then wherefore in these merry days
Should we, I pray, be duller?
To make our mirth the fuller.
EPITAPH ON CHARLES II
Here lies our Sovereign Lord the King,
Whose word no man relies on,
THE EARL OF ROCHESTER
THE DESERTED VILLAGE
SWEET Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,