English Lyrics, Twelfth Set

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Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,
  Why do ye fall so fast?
  Your date is not so past
But you may stay [yet here]1 awhile
  To blush and gently smile,
      And go at last.

What! were ye born to be
  An hour or half's delight,
  And so to bid good night?
'Twas pity Nature brought [you]2 forth
  Merely to show your worth
      And lose you quite.

But you are lovely leaves, where we
  May read how soon things have
  Their end, though ne'er so brave:
And after they have shown their pride
  Like you awhile, they glide
      Into the grave.

Like to the clear in highest sphere
  Where all imperial glory shines,
Of self-same colour is her hair
  Whether unfolded or in twines:
    Heigh ho, fair Rosaline.
Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,
  Refining heav'n by ev'ry wink;
The gods do fear whenas they glow,
  And I do tremble when I think:
    Heigh ho, would she were mine!

Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud
  That beautifies Aurora's face,
Or like the silver crimson shroud
  That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace:
    Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!
Her lips are like two budded roses,
  Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh,
Within which bounds she balm encloses,
  Apt to entice a deity:
    Heigh ho, would she were mine!

 ... 

Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan
  The absence of fair Rosaline,
Since for her fair there 's fairer none,
  Nor for her virtues so divine:
    Heigh ho, fair Rosaline:
Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were mine!

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 If there were dreams to sell,
	What would you buy?
 Some cost a passing bell;
	Some a light sigh,
 That shakes from Life's fresh crown
 Only a rose-leaf down.
 If there were dreams to sell,
 Merry and sad to tell,
	And the crier rang the bell,
	What would you buy?

 A cottage lone and still,
	With bowers nigh,
 Shadowy, my woes to still,
	Until I die.
 Such pearl from Life's fresh crown
 Fain would I shake me down.
 Were dreams to have at will,
 This best would heal my ill,
	This would I buy.

O World! O Life! O Time!
On whose last steps I climb,	 
Trembling at that where I had stood before;	 
When will return the glory of your prime?	 
No more - oh, never more!

Out of the day and night	 
A joy has taken flight:	 
Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar	 
Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight	 
No more - oh, never more!

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