Some have dispatch'd their cakes and cream, Before that we have left to dream:
And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted troth, And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:
Many a green-gown has been given;
Many a kiss, both odd and even:
Many a glance, too, has been sent From out the eye, love's firmament:
Many a jest told of the keys betraying This night, and locks pick'd:--yet we're not a Maying.
--Come, let us go, while we are in our prime;
And take the harmless folly of the time!
We shall grow old apace, and die Before we know our liberty.
Our life is short; and our days run As fast away as does the sun:--
And as a vapour, or a drop of rain Once lost, can ne'er be found again:
So when or you or I are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade;
All love, all liking, all delight Lies drown'd with us in endless night.
--Then while time serves, and we are but decaying, Come, my Corinna! come, let's go a Maying.
*26*
THE MAYPOLE
The May-pole is up, Now give me the cup;
I'll drink to the garlands around it;
But first unto those Whose hands did compose The glory of flowers that crown'd it.
A health to my girls, Whose husbands may earls Or lords be, granting my wishes, And when that ye wed To the bridal bed, Then multiply all, like to fishes.
*27*
THE WAKE
Come, Anthea, let us two Go to feast, as others do:
Tarts and custards, creams and cakes, Are the junkets still at wakes;
Unto which the tribes resort, Where the business is the sport:
Morris-dancers thou shalt see, Marian, too, in pageantry;
And a mimic to devise Many grinning properties.
Players there will be, and those Base in action as in clothes;
Yet with strutting they will please The incurious villages.
Near the dying of the day There will be a cudgel-play, Where a coxcomb will be broke, Ere a good word can be spoke:
But the anger ends all here, Drench'd in ale, or drown'd in beer.
--Happy rusticks! best content With the cheapest merriment;
And possess no other fear, Than to want the Wake next year.
*28*
THE HOCK-CART, OR HARVEST HOME:
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE MILDMAY, EARL OF WESTMORLAND
Come, Sons of Summer, by whose toil We are the lords of wine and oil:
By whose tough labours, and rough hands, We rip up first, then reap our lands.
Crown'd with the ears of corn, now come, And, to the pipe, sing Harvest Home.
Come forth, my lord, and see the cart Drest up with all the country art.
See, here a maukin, there a sheet, As spotless pure, as it is sweet:
The horses, mares, and frisking fillies, Clad, all, in linen white as lilies.
The harvest swains and wenches bound For joy, to see the Hock-Cart crown'd.
About the cart, hear, how the rout Of rural younglings raise the shout;
Pressing before, some coming after, Those with a shout, and these with laughter.
Some bless the cart; some kiss the sheaves;
Some prank them up with oaken leaves:
Some cross the fill-horse; some with great Devotion, stroke the home-borne wheat:
While other rustics, less attent To prayers, than to merriment, Run after with their breeches rent.
--Well, on, brave boys, to your lord's hearth, Glitt'ring with fire; where, for your mirth, Ye shall see first the large and chief Foundation of your feast, fat beef;
With upper stories, mutton, veal And bacon, which makes full the meal, With sev'ral dishes standing by, As here a custard, there a pie, And here, all tempting frumenty.
And for to make the merry cheer, If smirking wine be wanting here, There's that which drowns all care, stout beer:
Which freely drink to your lord's health Then to the plough, the common-wealth;
Next to your flails, your fanes, your vats;
Then to the maids with wheaten hats:
To the rough sickle, and crookt scythe,--
Drink, frolic, boys, till all be blythe.
Feed, and grow fat; and as ye eat, Be mindful, that the lab'ring neat, As you, may have their fill of meat.
And know, besides, ye must revoke The patient ox unto the yoke, And all go back unto the plough And harrow, though they're hang'd up now.
And, you must know, your lord's word's true, Feed him ye must, whose food fills you;
And that this pleasure is like rain, Not sent ye for to drown your pain, But for to make it spring again.
*29*
THE BRIDE-CAKE
This day, my Julia, thou must make For Mistress Bride the wedding-cake:
Knead but the dough, and it will be To paste of almonds turn'd by thee;
Or kiss it thou but once or twice, And for the bride-cake there'll be spice.
*30*
THE OLD WIVES' PRAYER
Holy-Rood, come forth and shield Us i' th' city and the field;
Safely guard us, now and aye, From the blast that burns by day;
And those sounds that us affright In the dead of dampish night;
Drive all hurtful fiends us fro, By the time the cocks first crow.
*31*
THE BELL-MAN
From noise of scare-fires rest ye free From murders, Benedicite;
From all mischances that may fright Your pleasing slumbers in the night Mercy secure ye all, and keep The goblin from ye, while ye sleep.
--Past one a clock, and almost two,--
My masters all, 'Good day to you.'
*33*
TO THE GENIUS OF HIS HOUSE
Command the roof, great Genius, and from thence Into this house pour down thy influence, That through each room a golden pipe may run Of living water by thy benizon;
Fulfil the larders, and with strength'ning bread Be ever-more these bins replenished.
Next, like a bishop consecrate my ground, That lucky fairies here may dance their round;
And, after that, lay down some silver pence, The master's charge and care to recompence.
Charm then the chambers; make the beds for ease, More than for peevish pining sicknesses;
Fix the foundation fast, and let the roof Grow old with time, but yet keep weather-proof.
*33*
HIS GRANGE, OR PRIVATE WEALTH
Though clock, To tell how night draws hence, I've none, A cock I have to sing how day draws on:
I have A maid, my Prue, by good luck sent, To save That little, Fates me gave or lent.
A hen I keep, which, creeking day by day, Tells when She goes her long white egg to lay:
A goose I have, which, with a jealous ear, Lets loose Her tongue, to tell what danger's near.
A lamb I keep, tame, with my morsels fed, Whose dam An orphan left him, lately dead:
