 | Country muse |  |
135
[Who will may take Love's pipe from out my fingers]
Who will may take Love's pipe from out my fingers,
Who will may sing the songs I used to sing;
No more where dying daylight shyly lingers
Will I, made musical, salute the Spring.
Who will may sing the songs I used to sing;
No more where dying daylight shyly lingers
Will I, made musical, salute the Spring.
No more my sheep shall crop the grass around me,
Browsing the rings where Queen Titania trips;
No more I shame the leaves and birds that found me
Once as a shepherd praise Clarinda's lips.
Browsing the rings where Queen Titania trips;
No more I shame the leaves and birds that found me
Once as a shepherd praise Clarinda's lips.
O woodland nymph, whose amber-coloured tresses
Held me so long where love-lyres woo and ache,
Now I desert the soul of thy caresses,
Struggling, all dazed, from thine enchanted brake!
Held me so long where love-lyres woo and ache,
Now I desert the soul of thy caresses,
Struggling, all dazed, from thine enchanted brake!
139
Lie still, lost Love! Young blood will come to woo thee,
Blood that shall leap to find thee flushed and fair;
Heroes of fire, young kings of verse, shall sue thee,
Nest on thy heart that shines beyond compare!
Blood that shall leap to find thee flushed and fair;
Heroes of fire, young kings of verse, shall sue thee,
Nest on thy heart that shines beyond compare!
But from my pipe hath poured its first love's splendour,
Now will I dare the steep that bounds the plain;
Teaching my soul its duty, stern and tender,
Singing the truth that only comes through pain.
Now will I dare the steep that bounds the plain;
Teaching my soul its duty, stern and tender,
Singing the truth that only comes through pain.
| Country muse | |