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The Golden Treasury
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;
The palm and may make country houses gay,
The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Spring! the sweet Spring!
THE FAIRY LIFE
Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
There I couch, when owls do cry:
On the bat's back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough!
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet Sprites, the burthen bear.
The watch-dogs bark:
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
SUMMONS TO LOVE
And paint the sable skies
With azure, white, and red:
Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed
That she may thy career with roses spread:
Give life to this dark world which lieth dead;
In larger locks than thou wast wont before,
With diadem of pearl thy temples fair :
Chase hence the ugly night
Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light.
-This is that happy morn,
That day, long-wished day
Of all my life so dark,
(If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn
And fates my hopes betray),
Which, purely white, deserves
An everlasting diamond should it mark.
This is the morn should bring unto this grove
My Love, to hear and recompense my love.
Fair King, who all preserves,
But show thy blushing beams,
And thou two sweeter eyes
Shalt see than those which by Penéus' streams
Did once thy heart surprize.
Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest guise :
If that ye winds would hear
A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre,
Ensaffroning sea and air
Beyond the hills, to shun his flaming wheels:
And nothing wanting is, save She, alas!
W. Drummond of Hawthornden