Arise, my thoughts, no more, if you return
Denied of grace which only you desire,
But let the sun your wings to ashes burn
And melt your passions in his quenchless fire;
Yet, if you move fair Maya’s heart to pity,
Let smiles and love and kisses be your ditty.
Arise, my thoughts, beyond the highest star
And gently rest you in fair Maya’s eye,
For that is fairer than the brightest are;
But, if she frown to see you climb so high,
Couch in her lap, and with a moving ditty,
Of smiles and love and kisses, beg for pity.
From Thomas Campion’s Two Books of Airs (circ. 1613).
Awake, awake! thou heavy sprite
Get up, get up, thou leaden man!
Thy track, to endless joy or pain,
Yields but the model of a span:
Yet burns out thy life’s lamp in vain!
One minute bounds thy bane or bliss;
Then watch and labour while time is.
From Henry Youll’s Canzonets to three voices, 1608.
Awake, sweet Love! ’tis time to rise:
From John Wilbye’s First Set of English Madrigals, 1598.
Ay me, can every rumour