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Thomas Campion

The first Booke of Ayres



1   Lighten heauy heart thy spright,
      The ioyes recall that thence are fled :
Yeeld the brest some liuing light,
      The man that nothing doth is dead.
Tune thy temper to these sounds,
      And quicken so thy ioylesse minde ;
Sloth the worst and best confounds,
      It is the ruine of mankinde.

2   From her caue rise all distasts,
      Which vnresolu'd Despaire pursues ;
Whom soone after Violence hasts
      Her selfe vngratefull to abuse.
Skies are clear'd with stirring windes,
      Th'vnmoued water moorish growes;
Eu'ry eye much pleasure findes
      To view a streame that brightly flowes.


Online text copyright ©, Harald Lillmeyer