Seven Part Songs for Male-Voice Choir

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Love wakes and weeps 
While Beauty sleeps ; 
Oh! for music's softest numbers 
To prompt a theme 
For Beauty's dream, 
Soft as the [pillow]1 of her slumbers! 

Through groves of [palm]2 
Sigh gales of balm ; 
Fire-flies on the air are wheeling ; 
While through the gloom 
Comes soft perfume, 
The distant beds of [flowers]3 revealing. 

Oh! wake and live! 
No dreams can give 
A shadowed bliss the real excelling ; 
No longer sleep 
From lattice peep, 
And list the tale that love is telling!

Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song,
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man,
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran,
Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad,
When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,
The dog, to gain [some]1 private ends,
Went mad, and bit the man.

Around from all the neighboring streets
The wond'ring neighbors ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.

The wound it seem'd both sore and sad
To every Christian eye;
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,
That show'd the rogues they lied:
The man recover'd of the bite --
The dog it was that died.

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Out upon it, I have loved
  Three whole days together!
And am like to love three more,
  If it prove fair weather.
 
Time shall moult away his wings
  Ere he shall discover
In the whole wide world again
  Such a constant lover.
 
But the spite on 't is, no praise
  Is due at all to me: 
Love with me had made no stays,
  Had it any been but she.
 
Had it any been but she,
  And that very face,
There had been at least ere this
  A dozen dozen in her place.

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