Seventeenth century lyrics Author:George Saintsbury Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: (3) Anonymous. Thou sent'st to me a heart was crowned; I took it to be thine, But when I saw it had a wound I knew that heart was mine. A bounty of ... more »a strange conceit! To send mine own to me, And send it in a worse estate Than when it came to thee. chapter{Section 4(4) John Donne. Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm Nor question much That subtle wreath of hair about mine arm ; The mystery, the sign, you must not touch, For 'tis my outward soul, Viceroy to that, which unto Heav'n being gone, Will leave this to control, And keep these limbs, these provinces from dissolution. For if the sinewy thread my brain lets fall Through every part, Can tie those parts, and make me one of all; These hairs, which upward grow, and strength and art Have from a better brain, Can better do't: except she meant that I By this should know my pain, As prisoners then are manacl'd, when they're con- demn'd to die. Whate'er she meant by't, bury it with me, For since I am Love's martyr, it might breed idolatry, If into other hands these relics came. As 'twas humility T' afford to it all that a soul can do; So 'tis some bravery, That, since you would have none of me, I bury some of you. chapter{Section 5(5) Thomas Dekker. Cold 's the wind, and wet's the rain, Saint Hugh be our good speed ! Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain, Nor helps good hearts in need. Troll the bowl, the jolly nut-brown bowl, And here, kind mate, to thee ! Let's sing a dirge for Saint Hugh's soul, And down it merrily. Down-a-down, hey, down-a-down, Hey derry derry down-a-down. Ho ! well done, to me let come, Ring compass, gentle joy ! Troll the bowl, the nut-brown bowl, And here kind, etc. Cold's the wind...« less