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lirik lagu richard mitchley - samuel daniel - beauty, time and love

fair is my love and cruel as she ‘s fair;
her brow~shades frown, although her eyes are sunny
her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair
and her disdains are gall, her favours honey:
a modest maid, deck’d with a blush of honour
whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love;
the wonder of all eyes that look upon her
sacred on earth, design’d a saint above
chastity and beauty, which were deadly foes
live reconciled friends within her brow;
and had she pity to conjoin with those
then who had heard the plaints i utter now?
for had she not been fair, and thus unkind
my muse had slept, and none had known my mind

my spotless love hovers with purest wings
about the temple of the proudest frame
where blaze those lights, fairest of earthly things
which clear our clouded world with brightest flame
my ambitious thoughts, confined in her face
affect no honour but what she can give;
my hopes do rest in limits of her grace;
i weigh no comfort unless she relieve
for she, that can my heart imparadise
holds in her fairest hand what dearest is;
my fortune’s wheel ‘s the circle of her eyes
whose rolling grace deign once a turn of bliss
all my life’s sweet consists in her alone;
so much i love the most unloving one
and yet i cannot reprehend the flight
or blame th’ attempt presuming so to soar;
the mounting venture for a high delight
did make the honour of the fall the more
for who gets wealth, that puts not from the shore?
danger hath honour, great designs their fame;
glory doth follow, courage goes before;
and though th’ event oft answers not the same—
suffice that high attempts have never shame
the mean observer, whom base safety keeps
lives without honour, dies without a name
and in eternal darkness ever sleeps.—
and therefore, delia, ’tis to me no blot
to have attempted, tho’ attain’d thee not

when men shall find thy flow’r, thy glory, pass
and thou with careful brow, sitting alone
received hast this message from thy glass
that tells the truth and says that all is gone;
fresh shalt thou see in me the wounds thou mad’st
though spent thy flame, in me the heat remaining:
i that have loved thee thus before thou fad’st—
my faith shall wax, when thou art in thy waning
the world shall find this miracle in me
that fire can burn when all the matter ‘s spent:
then what my faith hath been thyself shalt see
and that thou wast unkind thou may’st repent.—
thou may’st repent that thou hast scorn’d my tears
when winter snows upon thy sable hairs
beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew
whose short refresh upon the tender green
cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show
and straight ’tis gone as it had never been
soon doth it fade that makes the fairest flourish
short is the glory of the blushing rose;
the hue which thou so carefully dost nourish
yet which at length thou must be forced to lose
when thou, surcharged with burthen of thy years
shalt bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth;
and that, in beauty’s lease expired, appears
the date of age, the calends of our death—
but ah, no more!—this must not be foretold
for women grieve to think they must be old

i must not grieve my love, whose eyes would read
lines of delight, whereon her youth might smile;
flowers have time before they come to seed
and she is young, and now must sport the while
and sport, sweet maid, in season of these years
and learn to gather flowers before they wither;
and where the sweetest blossom first appears
let love and youth conduct thy pleasures thither
lighten forth smiles to clear the clouded air
and calm the tempest which my sighs do raise;
pity and smiles do best become the fair;
pity and smiles must only yield thee praise
make me to say when all my griefs are gone
happy the heart that sighed for such a one!
let others sing of knights and paladines
in aged accents and untimely words
paint shadows in imaginary lines
which well the reach of their high wit records:
but i must sing of thee, and those fair eyes
authentic shall my verse in time to come;
when yet th’ unborn shall say, lo, where she lies!
whose beauty made him speak, that else was dumb!
these are the arcs, the trophies i erect
that fortify thy name against old age;
and these thy sacred virtues must protect
against the dark, and time’s consuming rage
though th’ error of my youth in them appear
suffice, they show i lived, and loved thee dear

- lirik lagu richard mitchley

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