THOMAS HEYWOOD.

[About 1640.]

But plucked and strained through ruder hands,

SEARCH AFTER GOD.

No inore her sweetness with her dwells, I SOUGHT thee round about, O thou my But scent and beauty both are gone, And leaves fall from her, one by one.

[1600-1644.]

MUSIC.

O LULL me, lull me, charming air!

My senses rock with wonder sweet:
Like snow on wool thy fallings are;
Soft, like a spirit's, are thy feet!

Grief who need fear
That hath an ear?

Down let him lie
And slumbering die,
And change his soul for harmony!

God!

In thine abode.

I said unto the earth, "Speak, art thou
he?"
She answered me,

"I am not." I inquired of creatures all,
In general,
Contained therein. They with one voice

proclaim

That none amongst them challenged such

a name.

If any feathered fowl 'mongst them were
such;
But they all, much