• Geoffrey Bush
  • Lovers Progress

  • Novello & Co Ltd (World)
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Programme Note

Geoffrey Bush: A Lover's Progress

Anonymous words, circa 1600.


Come away, come, sweet love!
The golden morning breaks;
All the earth, all the air of love
and pleasure speaks.
Teach thine arms to embrace,
And sweet Rosy Lips to kiss,
And mix our souls in mutual bliss;
Eyes were made for beauty's grace,
Viewing, rueing, love-long pain,
Procured by beauty's rude disdain. Come away, come, sweet love!
The golden morning wastes,
While the sun from his sphere
his fiery arrows casts,
Making all the shadows fly
Playing, staying in the grove
To entertain the stealth of love.
Thither, sweet love, let us hie,
Flying, dying, in desire
Winged with sweet hopes and heav'nly fire.


Dear, if you change, I'll never choose again;
Sweet, if you shrink, I'll never think of love;
Fair, if you fail, I'll judge all beauty vain;
Wise, if too weak, moe wits I'll never prove.
Dear, Sweet, fair, Wise, change, shrink nor be not weak;
And, on my faith, my faith shall never break!

Earth with her flow'rs shall sooner heav'n adorn;
Heav'n her bright stars through earth's dim globe shall move;
Fire heat shall lose and frosts of flames be born;
Air, made to shine, as black as hell shall prove.
Earth, Heav'n, Fire, Air, the world transformed shall view,
Ere I prove false to faith, or strange to you.


No, no!
Though I shrink still,
Yet I think still
That a wink will
Do what lovers best know.
Till then I will be glad,
And then I will be mad.
Hang up all love that's sad.What, what!
If she fein so,
Then I plain go
In a vein to
Overthrow her, that's flat!
O, but she loved me well
No, but I cannot tell.
Who dares trust women or hell.


Now I see thy looks were feigned,
Quickly lost and quickly gained.
Soft thy skin like wool of wethers,
Heart unconstant, light as feathers;
Tongue untrusty, subtle sighted;
Wanton will with change delighted.
Siren pleasant, foe to reason,
Cupid plague thee for thy treason.Of thine eye, I made my mirror,
From thy beauty came my terror;
All thy words I counted witty,
All thy sighs I deemed pity;
Thy false tears that me aggrieved
First of all my trust deceived.
Siren pleasant, foe to reason,
Cupid plague thee for thy treason.


Shall I look to ease my grief?
No, my sight is lost with eyeing.
Shall I speak and beg relief?
No, my voice is hoarse with crying.
What remains but only dying?Shall I try her thoughts and write?
No, I have no means of trying.
If I should, yet at first sight,
She would answer with denying,
What remains but only dying.

Thus my vital breath doth waste,
And my blood with sorrow drying,
Sighs and tears make life to last,
For a while their place supplying.
What remains but only dying.


Break, heart, and die, that she which still doth pain me
May live the more content, when grief hath slain me.

Lo, here I leave my heart in keeping,
With her that laughs to see me weeping.

O, what comfort or treasure,
Is life with her displeasure.