FAIN WOULD I CHANGE THAT NOTE.
Fain would I change that note
To which fond love hath charm'd me,
Long, long to sing by rote,
Fancying that that harm'd me:
Yet when this thought doth come,
"Love is the perfect sum
Of all delight,"
I have no other choice
Either for pen or voice
To sing or write.
O Love, they wrong thee much
That say thy sweet is bitter,
When thy rich fruit is such
As nothing can be sweeter.
Fair house of joy and bliss
Where truest pleasure is,
I do adore thee;
I know thee what thou art,
I serve thee with my heart,
And fall before thee.
Captain Tobias Hume.
TO ROSES IN CASTARA'S BREAST.
Ye blushing Virgins happy are
In the chaste Nunn'ry of her breasts,
For he'd profane so chaste a fair,
Whoe'er should call them Cupid's nests.
Transplanted thus how bright ye grow,
How rich a perfume do ye yield?
In some close garden, cowslips so
Are sweeter than in th' open field.