Two Songs

Away, delights! go seek some other dwelling,
        For I must die.
Farewell, false love! thy tongue is ever telling
        Lie after lie.
For ever let me rest now from thy smarts;
        Alas, for pity go
        And fire their hearts
That have been hard to thee! Mine was not so.

Never again deluding love shall know me,
        For I will die;
And all those griefs that think to overgrow me
        Shall be as I:
For ever will I sleep, while poor maids cry --
        'Alas, for pity stay,
        And let us die
With thee! Men cannot mock us in the clay.'

God Lyaeus, ever young,
Ever honour'd, ever sung,
Stain'd with blood of lusty grapes,
In a thousand lusty shapes
Dance upon the mazer's brim,
In the crimson liquor swim;
From thy plenteous hand divine
Let a river run with wine:
    God of youth, let this day here
    Enter neither care nor fear.