Hence, all you vain delights
Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Comedies and tragedies (London, 1647).
1Hence, all you vain delights,
2As short as are the nights
3 Wherein you spend your folly,
4There's nought in this life sweet,
5If man were wise to see't
6 But only melancholy,
7 Oh, sweetest melancholy.
8Welcome, folded arms and fixed eyes,
9A sigh that piercing mortifies,
10A look that's fast'ned to the ground,
11A tongue chain'd up without a sound.
12Fountain-heads, and pathless groves;
13Places which pale passion loves,
14Moonlight walks, when all the fowls
15Are warmly hous'd, save bats and owls,
16 A midnight bell, a parting groan,
17 These are the sounds we feed upon;
18Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley,
19Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.
Publication Start Year:
RPO poem Editors:
N. J. Endicott
2RP.1. 247; RPO 1996-2000.