Thus till my happy sight your beauty views,
Whose sweet remembrance still my hope renews,
Let these poor lines solicit love for me,
And place my joys where my desires would be.
From Thomas Weelkes’ Madrigals of Five and Six Parts, 1600.
Lady, the birds right fairly
From Thomas Greaves’ Songs of Sundry Kinds, 1604.
Lady, the melting crystal of your eye
O that a drop from such a sweet fount flying
Should flame like fire and leave my heart a-dying!
I burn, my tears can never drench it
Till in your eyes I bathe my heart and quench it:
But there, alas, love with his fire lies sleeping,
And all conspire to burn my heart with weeping.
From John Wilbye’s Madrigals, 1598.
Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting,
From J. Danyel’s Songs for the Lute, Viol and Voice, 1606.
Let not Chloris think, because