By a fountain where I lay

The Urchins study world’s death dying
The Elves discourse on Funeral Tears

BEHOLD thou sweet Nymph sleep’st sleep of Sin rise and walk the ways late
’Tis not too yet thy life’s lamp in joy bounds and burns thy bane in bliss
which are enclosed with Nature’s silence
’tis time Spreading the deadly Faith a wonder hath receiv’d
the Last Book of Madrigals And Songs and Airs to be
of Beauty she regardeth her laughs
at many hundred year Folly of the cruel and wise
which hath not beheld the ghosts and shades
of blessèd Grace glimm’ring night shining done
by thee the fairest mistress of the Moon in May

AWAKE in the sight of Pale infusèd darkness
found to be neither hellish sleep nor blind
that doth forthwith banish thoughts of
despair and hapless grief, sorrow, woes
and the blackest of poisoned joy

’Tis now all in the grace of Beauty found
that thus this Play shall be