First Set of English Madrigals

Your shining eyes and golden hair,
Your Lily-rosed lips most fair;
Your other beauties that excel,
Men cannot choose but like them well.
But when, for them, they say they'll die,
Believe them not, they do but lie! 

Who prostrate lies at women’s feet
And calls them darlings dear and sweet;
Protesting love, and craving grace,
And praising oft a foolish face;
Are oftentimes deceived at last,
Then catch at nought and hold it fast.

Ay me, my mistress scorns my love;
I fear she will most cruel prove.
I weep, I sigh, I grieve, I groan;
Yet she regardeth not my moan.
Then, Love, adieu! it fits not me
To weep for her that laughs at thee.

Sister awake! Close not your eyes,
  The day her light discloses,
And the bright morning doth arise,
  Out of her bed of roses.

See the clear sun, the world's bright eye,
  In at our window peeping;
Lo! how he blusheth to espy
  Us idle wenches, sleeping!

Therefore awake! make Haste, I say,
  And let us, without staying,
All in our gowns of green so gay
  Into the park a-maying!

The nightingale, so soon as April bringeth
    Unto her rested sense a perfect waking,
While late-bare earth, proud of new clothing, springeth,
    Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making,
    And mournfully bewailing,
    Her throat in tunes expresseth
    What grief her breast oppresseth,
For Tereus' force on her chaste will prevailing.

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