THE sun, when he hath spread his rays,
And shewed his face ten thousand ways,
Ten thousand things do then begin
To show the life that they are in.
The heaven shews lively art and hue,
Of sundry shapes and colours new,
And laughs upon the earth; anon,
The earth, as cold as any stone,
Wet in the tears of her own kind,
'Gins then to take a joyful mind,
For well she feels that out and out
The sun doth warm her round about,
And dries her children tenderly,
And shews them forth full orderly,-
The mountains high, and how they stand!
The valleys, and the great mainland!
The trees, the herbs, the towers strong,
The castles, and the rivers long!
And even for joy of this great heat,
She showeth forth her pleasures great,
And sleeps no more, but sendeth forth
Her clergions, her own dear worth,
To mount and fly up to the air,
Where then they sing in order fair,
And tell in song full merrily
How they have slept full quietly
That night, about their mother's sides.
And when they have sung more besides,
Then fall they to their mother's breast,
Whereas they feed, or take their rest.
On hills then shew the ewe and lamb,
And every young one with his dam.
Then tune the birds their harmony;
Then flock the fowl in company;
Then everything doth pleasure find
In that, that comforts all their kind.
THE Sweet season, that bud and bloom forth brings,
With green hath clad the hill, and eke the vale.
The nightingale, with feathers new, she sings;
The turtle to her mate hath told her tale;
Summer is come, for every spray now springs.
The hart hath hung his old head on the pale;
The buck in brake his winter coat he flings:
The fishes fleet with new repairéd scale ;
The adder all her slough away she flings;
The swift swallow pursueth the flies small;
The busy bee her honey how she mings;
Winter is worn that was the flowers' bale.
And thus I see among these pleasant things
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.
WHEN all is done and said,
In the end thus shall you
He most of all doth bathe in bliss
That hath a quiet mind:
And, clear from worldly cares,
To deem can be content
The sweetest time in all his life
In thinking to be spent.
The body subject is
To fickle Fortune's power, And to a million of mishaps
Is casual every hour:
And Death in time doth change
It to a clod of clay;
Whenas the Mind, which is divine,
Runs never to decay.
Companion none is like
Unto the mind alone;
For many have been harm'd by speech,
Through thinking, few or none.
Fear oftentimes restraineth words,
But makes not thought to cease;
And he speaks best, that hath the skill
When for to hold his peace.
Our wealth leaves us at death
Our kinsmen at the grave;
But virtues of the mind unto
The heavens with us we have.
Wherefore, for Virtue's sake,
I can be well content,
The sweetest time in all my life
To deem in thinking spent.
THESE hairs of Age are messengers,
Which bid me fast, repent, and pray;
They be of death the harbingers,
Which do prepare and dress the way :
Wherefore I joy that you may see
Upon my head such hairs to be.
They be the lines that lead the length
How far my race was for to run;
They say my youth is fled, with strength,
And how old age is well begun :
The which I feel; and you may see
Upon my head such lines to be.
They be the strings, of sober sound,
Whose music is harmonical:
Their tunes declare—a time from ground
I came, and how thereto I shall!
Wherefore I joy that you may see
Upon my head such strings to be.
God grant to those who white hairs have, No worse them take than I have meant ;
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