No More Learning

The wine press now is ta'en from us,
The saffron and the calamus.
The spice and spikenard hence is gone,
The storax and the cinnamon.
_Chor. _ The carol of our gladness
Has taken wing,
And our late spring
Of mirth is turned to sadness.

How wise wast thou in all thy ways!
How worthy of respect and praise!
How matron-like didst thou go dressed!
How soberly above the rest
Of those that prank it with their plumes,
And jet it with their choice perfumes!
_Chor. _ Thy vestures were not flowing:
Nor did the street
Accuse thy feet
Of mincing in their going.

And though thou here li'st dead, we see
A deal of beauty yet in thee.
How sweetly shows thy smiling face,
Thy lips with all-diffused grace!
Thy hands, though cold, yet spotless white,
And comely as the chrysolite!
_Chor. _ Thy belly like a hill is,
Or as a neat
Clean heap of wheat,
All set about with lilies.
Sleep with thy beauties here, while we
Will show these garments made by thee;
These were the coats, in these are read
The monuments of Dorcas dead.
These were thy acts, and thou shall have
These hung as honours o'er thy grave;
_Chor. _ And after us, distressed,
Should fame be dumb,
Thy very tomb
Would cry out, Thou art blessed.

_Deal_, portion.
_Maundy_, the alms given on Thursday in Holy Week.
_Reaming_, drawing out into threads.
_Calamus_, a fragrant plant, the sweet flag.
_Chrysolite_, the topaz.


124. TO GOD IN TIME OF PLUNDERING.

Rapine has yet took nought from me;
But if it please my God I be
Brought at the last to th' utmost bit,
God make me thankful still for it.
I have been grateful for my store:
Let me say grace when there's no more.


125. TO HIS SAVIOUR. THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.

That little pretty bleeding part
Of foreskin send to me:
And I'll return a bleeding heart
For New-Year's gift to Thee.