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HARK, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
On chaliced flowers that lies ;
To ope their golden eyes : With every thing that pretty_is, My Lady sweet, arise :
Arise, arise !
TELL me where is Fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourishéd ?
Let us all ring Fancy's knell :
Ding, dong, bell.
WHO is Silvia? what is She
That all our swains commend her ? Holy, fair and wise is she;
The heaven such grace did lend her That she might admired be.
Is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness : ---Love doth to her eyes repair
To help him of his blindness, And, being help'd, inhabits there.
Then to Silvia let us sing
That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling: To her let us garlands bring.