In praise of Eliza, Queen of the Shepherds
SEE where she sits upon the grassie greene,
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The sovereign beauty which I do admire, Witness the world how worthy to be praised:
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Like as a huntsman after weary chase, Seeing the game from him escap'd away,
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Most glorious Lord of life, that on this day, Didst make thy triumph over death and sin:
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Most happy letters, fram'd by skilful trade, With which that happy name was first design'd:
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Men call you fair, and you do credit it, For that your self ye daily such do see:
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One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washed it away:
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This holy season, fit to fast and pray, Men to devotion ought to be inclin'd:
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Ah! whither, Love! wilt thou now carry mee? What wontlesse fury dost thou now inspire
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Love, that long since hast to thy mighty powre Perforce subdude my poor captived hart,
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Rapt with the rage of mine own ravish'd thought, Through contemplation of those goodly sights,
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Love, lift me up upon thy golden wings From this base world unto thy heavens hight,
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And is there care in heaven, and is there love
In heavenly spirits to us creatures base,
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Shepheards that wont on pipes of oaten reed,
Oft times to plaint your loues concealed smart:
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Colin Clouts Come Home Againe
THe shepheards boy (best knowen by that name)
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MOST glorious Lord of Lyfe! that, on this day,
Didst make Thy triumph over death and sin;
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Ye learned sisters which have oftentimes Beene to me ayding, others to adorne:
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SHE fell away in her first ages spring,
Whil'st yet her leafe was greene, and fresh her rinde,
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Unhappy verse, the witness of my unhappy state, Make thy self flutt'ring wings of thy fast flying
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My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great
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I SING of deadly dolorous debate,
Stir'd vp through wrathfull Nemesis despight,
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When I bethink me on that speech whilere,
Of Mutability, and well it weigh:
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My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great
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YE learned sisters which haue oftentimes beene to me ayding, others to adorne:
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TEll me ye merchants daughters did ye see So fayre a creature in your towne before,
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BVt if ye saw that which no eyes can see, The inward beauty of her liuely spright,
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OPen the temple gates vnto my loue, Open them wide that she may enter in,
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Behold whiles she before the altar stands Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes
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NOw al is done; bring home the bride againe, bring home the triumph of our victory,
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RIng ye the bels, ye yong men of the towne, And leaue your wonted labors for this day:
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