Ballads and lyrics . eigning, most loving mere follyThen, heigh-ho, the holly!This life is most jolly. William Shakespeare. As You LiTce It. 36 BALLADS AND LYRICS. SONG. Fear no more the heat o the sun,Nor the furious winters rages ; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and taen thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o the great ; Thou art past the tyrants stroke ;Care no more to clothe and eat ; To thee, the reed is as the oak :The sceptre, learning, physic, mustAll follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the lio-htn
Ballads and lyrics . eigning, most loving mere follyThen, heigh-ho, the holly!This life is most jolly. William Shakespeare. As You LiTce It. 36 BALLADS AND LYRICS. SONG. Fear no more the heat o the sun,Nor the furious winters rages ; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and taen thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o the great ; Thou art past the tyrants stroke ;Care no more to clothe and eat ; To thee, the reed is as the oak :The sceptre, learning, physic, mustAll follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the lio-htninor-flash,Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone ; Fear not slander, censure rash ;Thou hast finishd joy and moan : All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust. No exorciser harm thee!Nor no witchcraft charm thee!Ghost unlaid forbear thee INothing ill come near thee!Quiet consummation have!And renowned be thy grave! William SnAKEsrEARE. Cymbeline, «iMa mmmammmm^mmmmmmmmmmm3mimismmmm:VBm^?v9^asasm. THE NOBLE NATURE SONG. How should I your true love know From another one ?By Ills cockle hat and staff, And his sandal shoon. He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone;At his head a grass-o-reen turf, At his heels a stone. White his shroud as the mountain snow Larded with sweet flowers;AA^hich bewept to the grave did go I With true-love showers. William Shakespeare. Hamlet. THE NOBLE NATURE. It is not o-rowina; like a treeIn bulk, doth make man better be;Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere :A lily of a dayIs fairer far in May,Althouo;h it fall and die that niolit —It was the plant and flower of small proportions we just beauties see ;And in short measures life may perfect be. Ben Jonson.^ I Ben Jonson was bora in Westminster in 1573. His family 38 BALLADS AND LYRICS. VIRTUE. Sweet Day, so cool, so calm, so bright,The bridal of the earth and sky,The dew shall weep thy fall to-night; For thou must di
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