Tudor and Stuart Love Songs — Thomas Campion

SHALL I COME, SWEET LOVE?

Shall I come, sweet Love, to thee When the evening beams are set?

Shall I not excluded be, Will you find no feigned let?

Let me not, for pity, more Tell the long hours at your door.

Who can tell what thief or foe, In the covert of the night, For his prey will work my woe, Or through wicked foul despite?

So may I die unredrest Ere my long love be possest.

But to let such dangers pass, Which a lover's thoughts disdain, 'Tis enough in such a place To attend love's joys in vain: Do not mock me in thy bed, While these cold nights freeze me dead.

Thomas Campion.

CHERRY-RIPE.

There is a garden in her face Where roses and white lilies blow;

A heavenly paradise that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow;

There cherries grow that none may buy, Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.

Those cherries fairly do enclose Of orient pearl a double row, Which when her lovely laughter shows, They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow.

Yet them no peer nor prince may buy, Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.

Her eyes like angels watch them still;

Her brows like bended bows do stand, Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill All that approach with eye or hand These sacred cherries to come nigh, Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.

Thomas Campion.