...his wings he plays with me ; Now with his feete. " Within mine eyes he makes his neat, His bed amid my tender breast ; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. " Strike I my lute — he tunes the string j He music plays, if I do sing; He lends me every living...

...Summer mourn, Before my pen, by help of Fame, Cease to recite thy sacred name. ROSALIND 8 MADRIGAL. LOVE in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet...And yet he robs me of my rest : Ah, wanton, will ye ! And if t sleep, then pierceth he With pretty slight ; And makes his pillow of my knee The live-long...

...wings he seems to play with me, Now with his feete. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amid my tender breast ; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string, He music plays if I so sing ; lle lends me every living thing,...

...a Madrigal as they meet not with every day ; it was written by Thomas Lodge. ROSALIND'S MADRIGAL. " Love in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet...plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he make* his nest, His bed amid my tender breast, My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of...

...more finished and happy artifice < language, than Rosalind's Madrigal, beginning — " Love in ray bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet : Now with...me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his rest; His bed amidst my tender breast ; My kisses are his daily feast; And yet he robs me of my rest....

...Without remorse or pitying her paine ; THOMAS LODGE. Born about 1560, died 1623. ROSALIND'S UADRIOAI.. Love in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet...daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest, — Ah 1 wanton, will ye I And if I sleep, then piereeth he With pretty slight, And makes his pillow of my...

...And Love forsakes his heavenly fires, And at her eyes his brand doth light. [Rosalind's Madrigal.} Love in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet...tender breast ; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet lie robs me of my rest : Ah, wanton, will ye ? And if I sleep, then percheth lie With pretty flight,...

...to Shakspeare : — Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his aweet : Now with l,is wings he playa with me, Now with his feet Within mine eyes he makes...And yet he robs me of my rest Ah, wanton, will ye ? And if I sleep, then percheth he With pretty flight, And makes a pillow of my knee The livelong night...

...saucy air, half-passionate, halfmocking, that suited the words well, Lodge's delightful song : — Love in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet...with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet j Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed, amidst my tender breast ; My kisses are his daily feast,...

...breast the infant throws Its sobbing face, and there in sleep forgets its woes. TIGRE. LOVE'S POWER. LOvE in my bosom, like a bee Doth suck his sweet ;...feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amid my tender breast ; My kisses are his daily feast ; And yet he robs me of my rest. Strike I my...