The Treasury of Musick Containing ayres and dialogues To Sing to the theorbo-lute or basse-viol. Composed |
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Cassandra in Mourning.
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 | The Treasury of Musick |  |
69
Cassandra in Mourning.
[I]
Awake my Lute, arise my String,And to my sad Cassandra sing;
like the old Poets, when the Moon
Had put her Sable Mourning on,
Aloud they sounded with a merry strain,
Until her brightness was restor'd again.
II
Too well I know from whence proceedsThy wearing of these Mourning weeds;
In cruel flames for thee I burn,
And thou for me do'st therefore mourn.
So sits a glorious Godess in the Skies,
Clouded i'th' Smoak of her own Sacrifice.
III
Wear other Virgins what they will!Cassandra loves her Mourning still:
Thus the milky way so white
Is never seen but in the Night;
The Sun himself, although so bright he seem,
Is black as are the Moors that worship him
IV
But tell me, thou deformed Cloud,How dar'st thou such a Body shroud?
So Satyres with black hideous Face
Of old did lovely Nimphs embrace:
That mourning e're should hide such glorious Maids
Thus Deities of old did live in shades.
V
Her Words are Oracles, and come(Like those) from out some dark'ned room:
And her Breath proves that Spices do
Only in Scorched Countries grow:
If she but speak, an Indian she appears;
Though all o're black, at Lips She Jewels wears.
VI
Methinks I now do Venus spyAs she in Vulcan's arms did lye;
Such is Cassandra and her Shroud:
She looks like Snow within a Cloud:
Melt then, and yield! throw off thy mourning Pall!
Thou never can'st look white, until thou Fall.
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