From Thomas Morley’s Madrigals, 1594.
O sweet, alas, what say you?
From Thomas Campion’s Third Book of Airs (circ. 1613).
O sweet delight, O more than human bliss
Such love as this the Golden Times did know,
When all did reap and none took care to sow;
Such love as this an endless summer makes,
And all distaste from frail affection takes.
So loved, so blest in my beloved am I:
Which till their eyes ache let iron men envy!
From Robert Jones’ Ultimum Vale or Third Book of Airs (1608).
Oft have I mused the cause to find
But time at last hath taught me wit,
Although I bought my wit full dear;
For by her eyes my heart is hit,
Deep is the wound though none appear:
Their glancing beams as darts he throws,
And sure he hath no shafts but those.
I mused to see their eyes so bright,
And little thought they had been fire;
I gazed upon them with delight,
But that delight hath bred desire:
What better place can Love desire
Than that where grow both shafts and fire?