SONGS. 117 



To these sweet heights again we'll come ; 

 And thou to thy soft lute shalt play 

 A solemn vesper to departing day. 



SONG. 



BY WALLER. 



4 Jady of Cambridge lent Waller's Poems to the Author, and when he returned them 

 to her, she discovered an additional stanza written by him at the bottom of the 

 song here copied. 



Go, lovely rose ! 

 Tell her that wastes her time and me, 



That now she knows, 

 When I resemble her to thee. 

 How sweet and fair she seems to be. 



Tell her that's young, 

 And shuns to have her graces spied 



That hadst thou sprung 

 In deserts, where no men abide. 

 Thou must have uncommended died. 



Small is the worth 

 Of beauty from the light retired ; 



Bid her come forth, ♦ 



Suffer herself to be desired. 

 And not blush so to be admired. 



Then die, that she 

 The common fate of all things rare 



May read in thee ; 

 How small a part of time they share. 

 That are so wondrous sweet, and fair. 



[Yet, though thou fade, 

 From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise ; 



And teach the maid, 

 That goodness Time's rude hand defies, 

 That virtue lives when beauty dies.] 



H. K. WHITE. 



