RARE POEMS RARE POEMS OF THE SIXTEENTH AND SEVENTEENTH CENTURIES A SUPPLEMENT TO THE ANTHOLOGIES COLLECTED AND EDITED WITH NOTES BY W. J. LINTON LONDON: KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, & CO MDCCCLXXXIII The engraving on the Title-page borrowed from a design by the great Scottish painter DAVID SCOTT SECOND EDITION. TTNDER the title Golden Apples of Hesperus I lately printed a limited edition (only 225 copies) of " Poems not in the Collections," meaning the general selections accessible to the ordinary readers — not really students of EngHsh poetry. The present book is but in part a reprint of that. Half the wood-cuts omitted, some new ones are given ; and instead of poems of the 19th century, additional poems of the i6th and 17th centuries, with a selection from the anonymous writings of the same period, out of early miscellanies, or from reprints by Park, Ellis, Collier, Arber, &c. The Notes are all new. Some very few of these contents of my book may possibly be found in one or other anthology, escaping my search ; half a dozen in Ward's English Poets, 1880 (obtained after I had arranged my work), I have thought it worth while to retain, for reasons stated in my Notes. Of the Anonymous Poems, one or two, now and then accidentally appearing in some out of the way collection, I have repeated for the sake of nearer completeness of this division of my subject. My book here meets a want, whether to be accounted for by the insufficient industry of collectors, or for other reasons, I need not care to determine. It is enough to state the fact, while redeeming so much of neglected worth as may be within reach of one who claims not scholarship, but dares to call himself a lover of the old writers. Toward a correct text I have done all an unlearned man is able to do, taking for guide the belief that our poets were not VI writers of nonsense. My book meant for the general reader, old spelling is preserved only in those few places in whicli the modernizing would disturb either the measure or the rhyme: e.g. — (pp. 1-2) herbis, stalkis, thingisj meiie for moan, and (p. 6) hert for heart. For old spelling else, beyond antiqua- rian interest, I have no more respect than for printers' points. There were no established rules in those days : authors were lawless ; careless or uncertain even as to their proper names. " Our ancestors, finding it absolutely impossible to adopt any consistent mode of orthography, fairly left it to the discretion or caprice of the several writers and transcribers." (Ellis — Introductory Remarks on Language^ There is applicable truth too in the confession of the printer of Sidney's Ajxadia, that " being spred abroade in written coppies" (note here the spelling revised !) nmch corruption had been gathered by ill writers. For punctuation, since Arber, Ellis, Collier (it may be closely following the copy before them), to say nothing of editors not so accomplished, do, sometimes, play havoc with their author's meaning, I have ventured to judge for myself; and to punctuate according to context and the obvious or the seeming intention of the writer. All important changes will be acknowledged in the Notes. I ask the more learned student's mercy where I go wrong. New-Haven, Con7i., U. S. A. 1882. CONTENTS PART I— KNOWN AUTHORS TX^ILLIAM DUNBAR [145.— 1513] page To A Lady i Advice to Lovers 2 JOHN HEYWOOD [15.. —15..] A Praise of his Lady 3 SIR THOMAS WYATT [1503—1542] Yea or Nay 5 Disdain me not 6 THOMAS, LORD VAUX [1510— 1557] Death in Life 7 THOMAS TUSSER [1515 -23 — 1580] Some pleasures take 8 NICOLAS GRIMAOLD [1519 ? — 1563?] A True Love 9 BARNABE GOOGE [1540?— 1594] To the tune of Apelles .... 10 Once musing as I sat 12 VIII CONTENTS SIR PHILIP SIDNEY [1554— 1586] page The Meeting 13 Absence 17 Opportunity 18 The Colloquy 20 Epithalamium 22 Wooing Stuff 26 Rural Poesy 27 An Epitaph - Stella ! the fullness of my thoughts . 28 Alas ! have I not pain enough . . . - My Muse may well grudge .... 29 My True Love hath my heart . . . - His Answer to Dyer 30 SIR EDWARD DYER [1550?— 1607] The Friend's Remonstrance . . . . - THOMAS WATSON [i557?— 159^] On Sidney's Death 31 Of Time - Jealous of Ganymede 32 The Kiss 33 Philomela My love is past . . < 34 The May Queen 35 Sonnet — Blame me not . . . . . - ANTHONY MUNDAY [1553— 1633] Dirge for Robin Hood 36 GEORGE PEELE [1558 ? — I597 ?] Cupid's Curse 37 Colin's Song 3^^ CONTENTS IX ROBERT GREENE [1560?— 1592] page DORON AND CARMELA 39 Infida's Song 41 Menaphon's Roundelay 43 Sweet Content 44 Menaphon's Song 45 MICHAEL DRAYTON [1563?— 1631] What Love is 46 Rowland's Roundelay 47 Song of Motto and Perkin . . . -49 To HIS Coy Love 50 JOHN DAVIES [1560-S — 1618] The Picture of an Happy Man . . .51 In PRAISE of Music 54 The Shooting Star - Love's Blazonry ...... 55 An Hellespont of Cream - THOMAS NASH [1567 — 1601] Fair Summer . 56 GERVASE MARKHAM [1566?— 16..] Simples z,'] JOHN DONNE [1573— 1631] The Funeral 58 The Undertaking 59 Break of Day 60 BEN JONSON [1573— 1637] Epithalamion 6 1 If I freely may discover .... 64 Her Man - In the person of Womankind ... 66 CONTENTS JONSON continued page Begging Another 67 Song of Satyrs 68 Her Glove On Margaret Ratcliffe 69 His Excuse for loving - Song of Night 70 FRANCIS DAVISON [1575 ?— 1619?] WALTER DAVISON [1581 — 1602,6] To Urania — for pardon . . . . 71 Urania's Answer 72 Upon her protesting 74 Only She pleases him j^ A Comparison To Cupid 76 JOHN FLETCHER [1579—1625] FRANCIS BEAUMONT [1585 ?— 1615 ? ] Tell me jj Wedding Song 78 Freedom in Love - True Beauty 79 Hymn to Pan 80 Song for a Dance ROBERT BURTON [1576— 1639] The Abstract of Melancholy . . .81 WILLIAM DRUMMOND [1585 — 1649] Sextain 85 Death not feared 86 Madrigal — Sweet Rose 87 CONTENTS XI DRUMMOND continued page Pleasant Death 87 Madrigal — A Daedal of my Death . . .88 NATHANIEL FIELD [15 . . — 1638] Matin Song - JOHN WEBSTER [15.. — 16..] Dirge 89 WILLIAM BROWNE [1588— 1643] Venus and Adonis 90 ROBERT HERRICK [1594— 1674] The Tear 91 Sweet Amaryllis 92 Pansies 93 To Daisies Love makes all lovely 94 A Valentine - To Water-Nymphs 95 To Electra ....... - RICHARD BRATHWAITE [1588 — 1673] A Fig for Cake 96 THOMAS GOFFE [1592— 1627] To Sleep 98 JAMES SHIRLEY [1596— 1666] To Odelia 99 Hue and Cry ....... 100 To HIS Mistress loi Song to Hymen 102 To One saying She was old . . . . - The Looking-Glass 103 On Her Dancing - XII CONTENTS WILLIAM HABINGTON [1605? — 1654] page Qui quasi flos egreditur . . . 104 Fine Young Folly 105 The Perfection of Love . . . . 107 SIR RICHARD FANSHAWE [1607— 1666] Of Beauty 108 EDMUND WALLER [1605 — 1687] To a Fair Lady playing with a Snake . 109 To my Young Lady Lucy Sidney . . .110 An Apology for having loved before To A Lady for a Lost Poem . , . .111 Stay, Phcebus ! 112 SIR JOHN SUCKLING [1608-9— 1642] A Ballad of a Wedding . . . ' .113 Loving amiss iiS A Health 119 Barley-break. . . . . . . 120 THOMAS NABBES [1612?— 1645] Her real Worth 121 JOSEPH RUTTER [16..— i...] Song of Venus 122 Marriage Hymn 123 RICHARD CRASHAW [1615 — 1652] Wishes 124 RICHARD LOVELACE [1618 — 1658] The Grasshopper 129 SIR EDWARD SHERBURNE [1618— 17..] The Heart- Magnet 131 False Lycoris 132 CONTENTS XIII ANDREW MARVELL [1621 — 1678] page The Picture of Little T. C. . . . 133 A Definition of Love 134 Clorinda and Damon 136 The Fair Singer . . ' . . . .138 Making Hay-Ropes 139 ALEXANDER BROME [1620— 1666] Palinode 140 RICHARD BROME [16..— 1652] Beggars' Song 143 HENRY VAUGHAN [1621 — 1695] Epithalamium 143 THOMAS STANLEY [1625 — 1678] Song — I prithee let my heart alone . . . 145 Night 146 A Kiss I begg'd 147 JOHN HALL [1627— 1656] Epitaph R. FLETCHER [16.. — i...] An Epitaph 148 RICHARD FLECKNOE [16 . . — 1678 ? ] Chloris 149 JOHN BULTEEL [16..— 1669] Song — I grant j-our eyes are far more bright . 150 XIV CONTENTS PART II— AUTHORS UNKNOWN TOTTEL'S MISCELLANY 1557 page The Mean Estate happiest . . . 153 He wisheth Death 154 Love's Disdainer . . . . . . 155 Where Good Will is 157 Promise of a Constant Lover . . . 15^ Each thing hurt of itself . . . -159 Of a Rosemary Branch sent . . . - Of the Choice of a Wife .... 160 Others preferred 161 No Joy have I 162 Of the Golden Mean 163 The Praise of a True Friend . . 164 THE PARADISE OF DAINTY DEVICES 1576 Life's Stay 165 The Lost Friend t66 May 168 BYRD'S SET SONGS 1587-9 Right Carefulness 169 Love's Arrows 170 Love's Qualities 171 Cupid's Deliverance 172 The Herd-man's Happy Life . . . . - Philon the Shepherd — his Song . . 174 Brown is my Love 175 Cynthia CONTENTS XV THE PHCENIX NEST 1593 page The Anatomy of Love . . . . 176 To Night 177 Set me where Phcebus . . . . 178 DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS 1596-1603 The Lover's Despair 179 Love and Sorrow iSo Serenade 181 Constancy 182 To Cynthia 1S3 Love's Messengers Weep you no more 184 White as Lilies 185 Eyes and Hearts ...... 187 False Astronomy , i83 The Hermit's Song 189 Love and Fortune , . . . . 190 His Lady's Grief ...... 191 Song of Hope ...... 192 Woeful Heart His Mistress' Beauty 193 Love and Folly The Pedlar's Song . . • • • • 194 MORLEY'S BALLETS AND MADRIGALS 1595 -1600 Defiance to Love 195 My Dainty Darling False Clarinda 196 False Dorus . 197 WILBYE'S MADRIGALS 1598- 1609 Daphne The Jewel ,198 Lips and Roses .,.....- XVI CONTENTS W I LB YE contiinted page Come, Shepherd Swains .... 198 Love me not for comely grace . . -199 Sweet Night WEELkES' ballets and madrigals 1598 Thirsis 200 Spring Song Hold out, my Heart . . . . . 201 FARMER'S ENGLISH MADRIGALS 1599 Time not to be lost The Coy Maiden's Consent .... 202 Fair Phillis BATESON'S MADRIGALS 1604- 1606 Sister, awake ! 203 Whither so fast .? FORDE'S MUSIC OF SUNDRY KINDS 1607 Love till Death 204 A Mistress described 205 Since first I saw your face .... 206 CAMPION'S AIRS 1602 The Right of Beauty 207 DEUTEROMELIA 1609 Three Poor Mariners ..... 208 MELISMATA 1611 The Three Ravens PILKINGTON'S MADRIGALS 1612 Have I found Her ? 209 ENGLAND'S HELICON 1600 PhILLIDA and CoRYDON . , . . 210 Beauty sat bathing 212 CONTENTS XVII DAVISON'S POETICAL RHAPSODY 1602 pa>re Where his Lady keeps her Heart . . 213 The Tomb of Dead Desire . . . .214 Hopeless Desire 215 Natural Comparisons 216 In praise of the Sun Beggars' Song 217 If Wrong by force 218 WIT'S RECREATIONS 1654 On a Beautiful Virgin 219 On Chloris walking in the snow . . 220 On his Mistress WIT RESTORED 1658 Phillada 221 NOTES 225 PART I— KNOWN AUTHORS INHERITORS OF UNFULFILL'D RENOWN SHELLEY WILLIAM DUNBAR TO A LADY SWEET ROSE of virtue and of gentleness, Delightsome Lily of every lustiness, Richest in bounty and in beauty clear And every virtue that to heaven is dear, Except only that ye are merciless ! Into your garth this day I did pursue : There saw I flowers that fresh were of hue, Both white and red most lusty were to seen. And wholesome herbis upon stalkis green ; Yet leaf nor flower find could I none of Rue. I doubt that March, with his cold blastis keen, Has slain this gentle herb that I of mene : Whose piteous death does to my heart such pain That I would make to plant his root again, So comforting his leaves unto me been. DUNBAR ADVICE TO LOVEBS IF ye would love and loved be, In mind keep well these thingis three, And sadly in thy breast imprent, — Be secret, true, and patient ! For he that patience can not leir, ' He shall displeasance have perquier. Though he had all this worldis rent : Be secret, true, and patient ! For who that secret can not be. Him all good fellowship shall flee, And credence none shall him be lent : Be secret, true, and patient ! And he that is of heart untrue. From he be ken'd, farewell ! adieu ! Fie on him ! fie ! his fame is went : Be secret, true, and patient ! Thus he that wants ane of these three Ane lover glad may never be. But aye in some thing discontent : Be secret, true, and patient ! Nought with thy tongue thyself discure The thingis thou hast of nature ; For if thou dost, thou should repent : Be secret, true, and patient ! JOHN HEYWOOD A PRAISE OF HIS LADY GIVE PLACE, you Ladies ! and begone ; Boast not yourselves at all ! For here at hand approacheth One Whose face will stain you all. The virtue of her lively looks Excels the precious stone ; I wish to have none other books To read or look upon. In each of her two crystal eyes Smileth a naked boy : It would you all in heart suffice To see that lamp of joy. I think Nature hath lost the mould Where She her shape did take ; Or else I doubt if Nature could So fair a creature make. She may be very well compared Unto the Phcenix kind, Whose like was never seen or heard That any man can find. In life she is Diana chaste, In truth Penelope ; In word and eke in deed steadfast : What will ^'OU more we say ? HEYWOOD If all the world were sought so far, Who could find such a wight ? Her beauty twinkleth like a star Within the frosty night. Her rosiall colour comes and goes With such a comely grace, More readier too than doth the rose, Within her lively face. At Bacchus' feast none shall her meet, Ne at no wanton play, Nor gazing in an open street, Nor gadding as a stray. The modest mirth that she doth use Is mix'd with shamefacedness ; All vice she doth wholly refuse, And hateth idleness. O Lord ! it is a world to see How virtue can repair And deck in her such honesty Whom Nature made so fair. Truly She doth as far exceed Our women now-a-days As doth the gillyflower a weed. And more a thousand ways. How might I do to get a graff Of this unspotted tree ? For all the rest are plain but chaff Which seem good corn to be. HEYWOOD This gift alone I shall her give : When Death doth what he can, Her honest fame shall ever live Within the mouth of man. SIR THOMAS WYATT M YEA OB NAY ADAM ! Withouten many words, — Once I am sure you will, or no : And if you will, then leave your boordes And use your wit and show it so ! For with a beck you shall me call ; And if of One that bums alway Ye have pitie or ruth at all, Answer him fair with Yea or Nay ! If it be Yea, I shall be fain ; If it be Nay, friends as before, You shall another man obtain. And I, mine own, be yours no more. WYATT DISDAIN ME NOT ! The Lover praycth not to be disdained, refused, mistrztsted, nor forsaketi. 1~^ISDAIN me not without desert ! ^ — ^Nor leave me not so suddenly ! Since well ye wot that in my hert I mean ye not but honestly. Refuse me not without cause why ! Forethink me not, to be unjust ! Since that by lot of fantasy This careful knot needs knit I must. Mistrust me not ! though some tliere be That fain would spot my steadfastness. Believe them not ! since that ye see The proof is not as they express. Forsake me not till I deserve ! Nor hate me not till I offend ! Destroy me not till that I swerve, But since ye Vmow what I intend ! Disdain me not that am your own ! Refuse me not that am so true ! Mistrust me not till all be known ! Forsake me not, ne for no new ! THOMAS, LORD VAUX DEATH m LIFE HOW can the tree but waste and wither away That hath not sometime comfort of the sun ? And can the flower but fade and soon decay That always is with dark clouds overrun ? Is this a life ? Nay ! death I may it call, That feels each pain and knows no joy at all. What foodless beast can live long in good plight ? Or is it life where senses there be none ? Or Avhat availeth eyes without their sight ? Or else a tongue to him that is alone ? Is this a life ? Nay ! death I may it call, That feels each pain and knows no joy at all. Whereto serve ears if that there be no sound ? Or such a head where no device doth grow But all of plaints, since sorrow is the ground Whereby the heart doth pine in deadly woe ? Is this a life ? Nay ! death I may it call, That feels each pain and knows no joy at all. THOMAS TUSSER SOME pleasures take And can not give, But only make Poor thanks their gift ; Some, meaning well, In debt do live. And can not tell Where else to shift. Some knock, and fain Would ope the door, To learn the vain Good turn to praise ; Some shew poor face, And be but poor. Yet have a grace Good fame to raise. Some owe and give Yet still in debt, And so must live. For aught I know ; Some wish to pay, And can not get. But night and day Must still more owe. Even so must I, for service past. Still wish you good while life doth last. NICOLAS GRIMAOLD A TRUE LOVE WHAT sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see, What dear delight the blooms to bees, my true Love is to me ; As fresh and lusty Ver foul Winter doth exceed. As morning bright with scarlet sky doth pass the evening's weed, As mellow pears above harsh crabs esteemed be, So doth my Love surmount them all whom yet I hap to see. The oak shall oHves bear, the lamb the lion fray, The owl shall match the nightingale in tuning of her lay, Or I my Love let slip out of mine entire heart : So deep reposed in my breast is She for her desert. For many blessed gifts, O happy, happy land ! Where Mars and Pallas strive to make their glory most to stand ; Yet, land ! more is thy bHss that in this cruel age A Venus imp thou hast brought forth, so steadfast and so sage. Among the Muses nine a tenth if Jove would make, And to the Graces three a fourth, Her would Apollo take. Let some for honour hunt, or hoard the massy gold : With Her so I may live and die, my weal can not be told. issi?£&^j!^;^3«S5;^»9:@<^5Sfe©^a»g?s?c<^^ BARNABE GOOGE TO THE TUNE OF APELLES n~^HE rushing rivers that do run, ^ The vallies sweet adorned new That lean their sides against the sun, With flowers fresh of sundry hue, Both ash and ehn, and oak so high, Do all lament my woeful cry. While winter black with hideous storms Doth spoil the ground of summer's green, While spring-time sweet the leaf returns That late on tree could not be seen, While summer burns, while harvest reigns, Still, still do rage my restless pains. No end I find in all my smart. But endless torment I sustain. Since first, alas ! my woeful heart By sight of thee was forced to plain, — Since that I lost my liberty, Since that thou madest a slave of me. My heart, that once abroad was free, Thy beauty hath in durance brought ; Once reason ruled and guided me. And now is wit consumed with thought ; Once I rejoiced above the sky, And now for thee, alas ! I die. GOOGE I I Once I rejoiced in company, And now my cliief and sole delight Is from my friends away to fly And keep alone my wearied sprite. Thy face divine and my desire From flesh have me transform'd to fire. O Nature ! thou that first didst frame My Lady's hair of purest gold, Her face of crystal to the same, Her hps of precious rubies' mould. Her neck of alabaster white, — Surmounting far each other wight : Why didst thou not that time devise, Why didst thou not foresee, before The mischief that thereof doth rise And grief on grief doth heap with store, To make her heart of wax alone And not of flint and marble stone ? O Lady ! show thy favour yet : Let not thy servant die for thee ! Where Rigour ruled let Mercy sit ! Let Pity conquer Cruelty ! Let not Disdain, a fiend of hell. Possess the place where Grace should dwell 12 GOOGE ONCE MUSING AS I SAT, And candle burning by, When all were hush'd, I might discern A simple sely Fly, That flew before mine eyes, With free rejoicing heart, And here and there with wings did play, As void of pain and smart. Sometime by me she sat When she had play'd her fill ; And ever when she rested had About she flutter'd still. . When I perceived her well Rejoicing in her place, happy Fly ! quoth I, and eke worm in happy case ! Which of us two is best ? 1 that have reason ? No : But thou that reason art without, And therewith void of woe. 1 live, and so dost thou ; But I live all in pain, And subje6l am to Her, alas ! That makes my grief her gain. Thou livest, but feel'st no grief; No love doth thee torment. A happy thing for me it were (If God were so content) That thou with pen wert placed here And I sat in thy place : Then I should joy as thou dost now, And thou shouldst wail thy case. ssi^r* SIR PHILIP SIDNEY TH^ MEETING T N A GROVE, most rich of shade, -'-Where birds wanton music made, May, then young, his pied weeds showing, New-perfumed with flowers fresh growing, Astrophel with Stella sweet Did for mutual comfort meet, Both within themselves oppressed, But each in the other blessed. Him great harms had taught much care. Her fair neck a foul yoke bare ; But her sight his cares did banish, In his sight her yoke did vanish. Wept they had, alas the while ! But now tears themselves did smile, While their eyes, by love diredled, Interchangeably refledled. Sigh they did : but now betwixt Sighs of woe were glad sighs mix'd ; With arms cross'd, yet testifying Restless rest, and living dying. 14 SIDNEY Their ears hungry of each word Which the dear tongue would afford, But their tongues restrain'd from walking Till their hearts had ended talking. But, when their tongues could not speak, Love itself did silence break ; Love did set his lips asunder, Thus to speak in love and wonder. Stella ! sovereign of my joy. Fair triumpher of annoy ! Stella, star of heavenly fire ! Stella, loadstar of desire ! Stella, in whose shining eyes Are the lights of Cupid's skies, Whose beams, where they once are darted, Love therewith is straight imparted ! Stella, whose voice, when it speaks, Senses all asunder breaks ! Stella, whose voice, when it singeth, Angels to acquaintance bringeth ! Stella, in whose body is Writ each charader of bliss ; Whose face all all beauty passeth. Save thy mind, which yet surpasseth ! Grant, O grant, but speech, alas ! Fails me, fearing on to pass ; Grant, — O me ! what am I saying? But no fault there is in praying : SIDNEY 1 5 Grant — O Dear ! on knees I pray, (Knees on ground he then did stay), That, not I, but since I love you. Time and place for me may move you. Never season was more fit ; Never room more apt for it ; Smiling air allows my reason ; These birds sing — " Now use the season ! " This small wind, which so sweet is. See how it the leaves doth kiss ! Each tree in its best attiring. Sense of love to love inspiring. Love makes earth the water drink ; Love to earth makes water sink ; And, if dumb things be so witty, Shall a heavenly grace want pity? There his hands, in their speech, fain Would have made tongue's language plain ; But her hands, his hands repelling, Gave repulse all grace excelling. Then she spake : her speech was such As not ears but heart did touch ; While such wise she love denied As yet love she signified. Astrophel ! said she, — my love Cease in these effefts to prove ! Now be still ! yet still believe me, Thy grief more than death would grieve me. l6 SIDNEY If that any thought in me Can taste comfort but of thee, Let me, fed with hellish anguish, Joyless, hopeless, endless languish ! If those eyes you praised be Half so dear as you to me, Let me home return stark-blinded Of those eyes, and blinder-minded ! If to secret of my heart I do any wish impart Where thou art not foremost placed, Be both wish and I defaced ! If more may be said, I say : All my bliss in thee I lay : If thou love, my love content thee ! For all love, all faith is meant thee. Trust me, while I thee deny, In myself the smart I try ; Tyrant Honour doth thus use thee ; Stella's self might not refuse thee. Therefore, Dear ! this no more move, Lest, though I leave not thy love. Which too deep in me is framed, I should blush when thou art named ! Therewithal away she went, Leaving him so passion-rent With what she had done and spoken, That therewith my song is broken. SIDNEY 17 O ABSENCE DEAR LIFE ! when shall it be That mine eyes thine eyes shall see, And in them thy mind discover : Whether absence have had force Thy remembrance to divorce From the image of thy lover ? O, if I myself find not After parting aught forgot Nor debarr'd from Beauty's treasure, Let not tongue aspire to tell In what high joys I shall dwell ! Only thought aims at the pleasure. Thought ! therefore I will send thee To take up the place for me ; Long I will not after tarry : There, unseen, thou may'st be bold Those fair wonders to behold Which in them my hopes do carry. Thought ! see thou no place forbear ! Enter bravely everywhere ! Seize on all to her belonging ! But if thou wouldst guarded be, Her beams fearing, take with thee Strength of liking, rage of longing ! Think of that most grateful time, When my leaping heart will climb In my lips to have his biding : l8 SIDNEY There those roses for to kiss, Which do breathe a sugar'd bhss, Opening rubies, pearls dividing ! Think of my most princely power. Which, I blessed, shall devour With my greedy licorous senses Beauty, music, sweetness, love, While she doth against me prove Her strong darts but weak defences ! Think, think of those dallyings When, with dove-like murmurings. With glad moaning, passed anguish. We change eyes and, heart for heart, Each to other do depart Joying till joy makes us languish ! O, my Thought ! thy thoughts surcease ! Thy delights my woes increase ; My life melts with too much thinking : Think no more, — but die in me Till thou shalt revived be, At her lips my ne(5tar drinking ! OPPOliTUNITY /^NLY JOY ! now here you are, ^-^Fit to hear and ease my care. Let my whispering voice obtain Sweet reward for sharpest pain : Take me to thee, and thee to me ! — " No, no, no, no, my Dear ! let be ! " SIDNEY 19 Night hath closed all in her cloak ; Twinkling stars love-thoughts provoke ; Danger hence good care doth keep ; Jealousy himself doth sleep : Take me to thee, and thee to me ! — " No, no, no, no, my Dear ! let be ! " Better place no wit can find, Cupid's knot to loose or bind ; These sweet flowers, our fine bed, too Us in their best language woo : Take me to thee, and thee to me ; — " No, no, no, no, my Dear ! let be !" This small light the moon bestows Serves thy beams but to disclose. So to raise my hap more high ; Fear not, else none can us spy : Take me to thee, and thee to me ! — " No, no, no, no, my Dear ! let be ! " That you heard was but a mouse ; Dumb sleep holdeth all the house ; Yet asleep, methinks they say — Young fools ! take time while you may : Take me to thee, and thee to me ! — " No, no, no, no, my Dear ! let be ! " Niggard Time threats, if we miss This large offer of our bliss, Long stay ere he grant the same : Sweet ! then, while each thing doth frame, Take me to thee, and thee to me ! — 20 SIDNEY " No, no, no, no, my Dear ! let be ! " Your fair mother is a-bed. Candles out and curtains spread ; She thinks you do letters write ; Write, but let me first indite : Take me to thee, and thee to me ! — " No, no, no, no, my Dear ! let be ! " Sweet ! alas ! why strive you thus ? Concord better fitteth us ; Leave to Mars the force of hands ; Your power in your beauty stands : Take thee to me, and me to thee ! — " No, no, no, no, my Dear ! let be ! " Woe to me, and do you swear Me to hate but I forbear? Cursed be my destines all. That brought me so high to fall ! Soon with my death I will please thee " No, no, no, no, my Dear ! let be !" THIJ COLLOQUY WHO is it that this dark night Underneath my window plaineth ? " — It is one who, from thy sight Being, ah ! exiled, disdaineth Every other vulgar light. " Why, alas ! and are you he ? SIDNEY 21 Be not yet those fancies changed?" — Dear ! when you find change in me, Though fi-om me you be estranged, Let my change to ruin be ? " Well, in absence this will die : Leave to see, and leave to wonder !" — Absence sure will help if I Can learn how myself to sunder From what in my heart doth lie. " But time will these thoughts remove : Time doth work what no man knoweth." Time doth as the subject prove : With time still affection groweth In the faithful turtle dove. " What if w^e new beauties see ? Will not they stir new affection ? " — I will think they pictures be, (Image-like of saints' perfe6lion) Poorly counterfeiting thee. " But your reason's purer light Bids you leave such minds to nourish." — Dear ! do reason no such spite : Never doth thy beauty flourish More than in my reason's sight. " But the wrongs love bears will make Love at length leave undertaking." — No ! the more fools it do shake In a ground of so firm making. Deeper still they drive the stake. 22 SIDNEY " Peace ! I think that some give ear ; Come no more, lest I get anger ! " — Bliss ! I will my bliss forbear, Fearing, Sweet ! you to endanger ; But my soul shall harbour there. " Well, begone ! begone ! I say : Lest that Argus eyes perceive you." — O, unjust is Fortune's sway Which can make me thus to leave you, And from louts to run away. EPITHALAMIUM T ET Mother Earth now deck herself in flowers, -* — ' To see her offspring seek a good increase. Where justest love doth vanquish Cupid's powers. And war of thoughts is swallow'd up in peace, Wliich never may decrease. But, like the turtles fair. Live one in two, a well-united pair : Which that no chance may stain, O Hymen ! long their coupled joys maintain ! O Heaven ! awake, show forth thy stately face ; Let not these slumbering clouds thy beauties hide. But with thy cheerful presence help to grace The honest Bridegroom and the bashful Bride, Whose loves may ever bide, Like to the elm and vine, Witli mutual embracements them to twine : SIDNEY 23 In which delightful pain, O Hymen ! long their coupled joys maintain Ye Muses all ! which chaste affefts allow And have to Thyrsis shown your secret skill, To this chaste love your sacred favours bow ; And so to him and her your gifts distill That they all vice may kill And, like to lilies pure. May please all eyes, and spotless may endure : Where that all bliss may reign, O Hymen ! long their coupled joys maintain ! Ye Nymphs which in the waters empire have ! Since Thyrsis' music oft doth yield you praise, Grant to the thing which we for Thyrsis crave : Let one time — but long first — close up their days. One grave their bodies seize ; And, like two rivers sweet When they though divers do together meet, One stream both streams contain ! O Hymen ! long their coupled joys maintain ! Pan ! father Pan, the god of silly sheep ! Whose care is cause that they in number grow, — Have much more care of them that them do keep, Since from these good the others' good doth flow ; And make their issue show In number like the herd Of younglings which thyself with love hast rear'd, Or like the drops of rain ! O Hymen ! long their coupled joys maintain ! 24 SIDNEY Virtue, if not a God, yet God's chief part ! Be thou the knot of this their open vow : That still he be her head, she be his heart ; He lean to her, she unto him do bow ; Each other still allow ; Like oak and misletoe, Her strength from him, his praise from her do grow ! In which most lovely train,' O Hymen ! long their coupled joys maintain ! But thou, foul Cupid, sire to lawless lust ! Be thou far hence with thy empoison'd dart, Which, though of glittering gold, shall here take rust, Where simple love, which chasteness doth impart, Avoids thy hurtful art, Not needing charming skill Such minds with sweet affe6tions for to fill : Which being pure and plain, • O Hymen ! long their coupled joys maintain ! All churlish words, shrewd answers, crabbed looks. All privateness, self-seeking, inward spite. All waywardness which nothing kindly brooks. All strife for toys and claiming master's right. Be hence aye put to flight ; All stirring husband's hate 'Gainst neighbours good for womanish debate Be fled : as things most vain ! O Hymen ! long their coupled joys maintain ! All peacock pride and fruits of peacock's pride. Longing to be with loss of substance gay, SIDNEY 25 With recklessness v/hat may the house betide So that you may on higher shppers stay, For ever hence away ! Yet let not sluttery, The sink of filth, be counted housewifery, But keeping whole your main ! O Hymen ! long their coupled joys maintain ! But above all, away vile jealous}^. The evil of evils, just cause to be unjust ! How can he love, suspe6ling treachery? How can she love, where love can not win trust ? Go, snake ! hide thee in dust ; Nor dare once show thy face Where open hearts do hold so constant place That they thy sting restrain ! O Hymen ! long their coupled joys maintain ! The Earth is deck'd with flowers, the Heavens display'd, Muses grant gifts, Nymphs long and joined life, Pan store of babes, virtue their thoughts well stay'd, Cupid's lust gone, and gone is bitter strife. Happy man ! happy wife ! No pride shall them oppress, Nor yet shall yield to loathsoiTie sluttishness ; And jealousy is slain, For Hymen will their coupled joys maintain. '"Il^-^ 26 SIDNEY WOOING STUFF rpAINT AMORIST ! what, dost thou think -*- To taste Trove's honey, and not drink One dram of gall ? or to devour A world of sweet, and taste no sour ? Dost thou ever think to enter Th' Elysian Fields, that darest not venture In Charon's barge ? A lover's mind Must use to sail with every wind. He that loves and fears to try Learns his Mistress to deny. Doth she chide thee? 'tis to show it That thy coldness makes her do it ; Is she silent? is she mute? Silence fully grants thy suit ; ^ Doth she pout and leave the room ? Then she goes to bid thee come ; Is she sick? why then, be sure She invites thee to the cure ; Doth she cross thy suit with No ? Tush ! she loves to hear thee woo ; Doth she call the faith of man In question ? nay ! she loves thee than ; And if e'er she makes a blot, She 's lost if that thou hitt'st her not. He that after ten denials Dares attempt no farther trials, Hath no warrant to acquire The dainties of his chaste desire. SIDNEY 27 BUBAL POESY O WORDS, which fall like summer dew on me ! O breath, more sweet than is tlie growing bean ! O tongue, in which all honey'd Hquors be ! O voice, that doth the thrush in shrillness stain ! Do you say still this is her promise due : That she is mine, as I to her am true ! Gay hair, more gay than straw when harvest lies ! Lips, red and plump as cherries' ruddy side ! Eyes, fair and great, like fair great ox's eyes ! O breast, in which two white sheep swell in pride ! Join you with me to seal this promise due : That she be mine, as I to her am true ! But thou, white skin, as white as curds well press'd, So smooth as sleek-stone like it smoothes each part ! And thou, dear flesh, as soft as wool new dress'd. And yet as hard as brawn made hard by art ! First four but say, next four their saying seal ; But you must pay the gage of promised weal. AN EPITAPH IT IS BEING was in her alone : -*- ^ And he not being, she was none. They joy'd one joy, one grief they grieved ; One love they loved, one life they lived. The hand was one, one was the sword, That did his death, her death afford. As all the rest, so now the stone That tombs the two is justly one. 28 SIDNEY STELLA ! the fullness of my thoughts of thee Can not be stay'd within my panting breast ; But they do swell and struggle forth of me Till that in words thy figure be express'd : And yet, as soon as they so formed be, According to my lord Love's own behest. With sad eyes I their weak proportion see To portrait that which in this world is best. So that I can not choose but write my mind, And can not choose but put out what I write : While these poor babes their death in birth do find. And now my pen these lines had dashed quite. But that they stopp'd his fury from the same Because their fore-front bare sweet Stella's name. A LAS ! have I not pain enough, my friend ! ■^-^ Upon whose breast a fiercer grip doth tire Than did on him who first stole down the fire, While Love on me doth all his quiver spend, But with your rhubarb words you must contend To grieve me worse, in saying that Desire Doth plunge my well-form'd soul even in the mire Of sinful thoughts which do in ruin end ? If that be sin which doth the manners frame, Well-staid with truth in word and faith of deed, Ready of wit, and fearing nouglit but shame, — If that be sin which in fix'd hearts doth breed A loathing of all loose unchastity, — Then love is sin, and let me sinful be ! SIDNEY 29 MY JMUSE may well grudge at my heavenly joy If still I force her in sad rhymes to creep : She oft hath drunk my tears now hopes to enjoy Nectar of mirth, since I Jove's cup do keep. Sonnets be not bound 'prentice to annoy ; Trebles sing high, so well as bases deep. Grief but Love's winter livery is : the boy Hath cheeks to smile, so well as eyes to weep. Come then, my Muse ! show thou height of delight In well-raised notes ; my pen, the best it may, Shall paint out joy though but in black and white. Cease, eager Muse ! peace, pen ! for my sake stay ! I give you here ray hand for truth of this : Wise silence is best music unto bliss. TWr Y TRUE LOVE hath my heart, and I have his, -*- -'-By just exchange one for the other given : I hold his dear, and mine he can not miss ; There never was a bargain better driven. His heart in me keeps me and him in one ; My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides : He loves my heart for once it was his own ; I cherish his because in me it bides. His heart his wound received from my sight ; My heart was wounded with his wounded heart : For as from me on him his hurt did light. So still methought in me his hurt did smart. Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss : My true love hath my heart, and I have his. SIR EDWARD DYER THE FRIEND'S REMONSTRANCE OROMETHEUS, when first from heaven high -^ He brought down fire, ere then on earth not seen, Fond of delight, a Satyr, standing by, Gave it a kiss, as it Hke sweet had been. Feeling forthwith the other burning power, Wood with the smart, with shouts and shrieking shrill, He sought his ease in river, field, and bower ; But for the time his grief went with him still. So silly I, with that unwonted sight. In human shape an angel from above. Feeding mine eyes, the impression there did light ; That since I run and rest as pleaseth Love. The difference is : the Satyr's lips — my heart, — He for a while, I evermore have smart. A HIS ANSWER SATYR once did run away for dread With sound of horn which he himself did blow : Fearing and fear'd, thus from himself he fled. Deeming strange ill in that he did not know. Such causeless fears when coward minds do take, It makes them fly that which they fain would have As this poor beast, who did his rest forsake, Thinking not why but how himself to save. SIDNEY 3 1 Even thus might I, for doubts which I conceive Of mine own words, my own good hap betray ; And thus might I, for fear of may-be, leave The sweet pursuit of my desired prey. Better Hke I thy Satyr, dearest Dyer ! Who burn'd his lips to kiss fair shining fire. Philip Sidney. THOMAS WATSON ON SIDNEY'S DEATH OW LONG with vain complaining, With dreary tears and joys refraining. Shall we renew his dying Whose happy soul is flying. Not in a place of sadness, But in eternal gladness ? Sweet Sidney lives in heaven : then let our weeping Be turn'd to hymns and songs of pleasant keeping ! OF TIME TIME wasteth years and months and days and hours Time doth consume fame, honour, wit, and strength : Time kills the greenest herbs and sweetest flowers : Time wears out youth and beauty's looks at length : Time doth convey to gi-ound both foe and friend, And each thing else but Love, which hath no end. 32 WATSON Time maketh every tree to die and rot : Time turneth oft our pleasures into pain : Time causeth wars and wrongs to be forgot : Time clears the sky which first hung full of rain Time makes an end of all humane desire, But only this which sets my heart on fire. Time turneth into nought each princely state : Time brings a flood from new resolved snow : Time calms the sea where tempest was of late : Time eats whate'er the moon can see below : And yet no time prevails in my behove, Nor any time can make me cease to love. T JEALOUS OF GANYMEDE HIS latter night, amidst my troubled rest, A dismal dream my fearful heart appall'd, Whereof the sum was this : Love made a feast, To which all neighbour Saints and Gods were call'd The cheer was more than mortal men can think, And mirth grew on by taking in their drink. Then Jove amidst his cups, for service done, 'Gan thus to jest with Ganymede, his boy : I fain would find for thee, my pretty Son ! A fairer wife than Paris brought to Troy. Why, Sir ! quoth he, if Phoebus stand my friend. Who knows the world, this gear will soon have end. Then Jove replied that Phoebus should not choose But do his best to find the fairest face ; And she once found should ne will nor refuse, But yield herself and change her dwelling-place. WATSON 33 Alas ! how much was then my heart affright : Which bade me wake and watch my Fair Delight. I THE KISS N time long past, when in Diana's chase A bramble bush prick'd Venus in the foot, Old ^sculapius help'd her heavy case Before the hurt had taken any root : Wherehence, although his beard were crisping hard. She yielded him a kiss for his reward. My luck was like to his, this other day, When She whom I on earth do worship most For kissing me vouchsafed thus to say — " Take this for once, and make thereof no boast !" Forthwith my heart gave signs of joy by skips, As though our souls had join'd by joining lips. And since that time I thought it not amiss To judge which were the best of all these three : Her breath, her speech, or that her dainty kiss : And (sure) of all the kiss best liked me. For that was it which did revive my heart, Oppress'd and almost dead with daily smart. PHIL03IELA WHEN May is in his prime and youthful Sprin Doth clothe the tree with leaves and ground with flowers, And time of year reviveth every thing, And lovely Nature smiles, and nothing lours, Then Philomela most doth strain her breast With night complaints, and sits in little rest. 34 WATSON This bird's estate I may compare with mine, To whom fond love doth work such wrongs by day That in the night my lieart must needs repine, And storm with sighs to ease me as I may : Whilst others are becalm'd, or lie them still, Or sail secure with tide and wind at will. And as all those which hear this bird complain Conceive on all her tunes a sweet delight, Without remorse or pitying her pain. So She for whom I wail both day and night Doth sport herself in hearing my complaint : A just reward for serving such a Saint. 31 Y LOVE IS PAST T OVE hath delight in sweet delicious fare ; ^ — ' Love never takes good Counsel for his friend ; Love author is and cause of idle care ; Love is distraught of wit and hath no end ; Love shooteth shafts of burning hot desire ; Love burneth more than either flame or fire. Love doth much harm through jealousy's assault ; Love once embraced will hardly part again ; Love thinks in breach of faith there is no fault ; Love makes a sport of others' deadly pain ; Love is a wanton child, and loves to brawl ; Love with his war brings many souls to tin-all. These are the smallest faults that lurk in Love ; These are the hurts which I have cause to curse ; These are those truths which no man can disprove ; These are such harms as none can suffer worse. WATSON 35 All this I write that others may beware, Though now myself twice free from all such care. V/ B THE MAY-QUEEN ITH fragrant flowers we strew the May, And make this our chief holy-day : For though this clime were blest of yore. Yet was it never proud before. O beauteous Queen of second Troy ! Accept of our unfeigned joy ! Now th' air is sweeter than sweet balm, And satyrs dance about the palm ; Now earth, with verdure newly dight. Gives perfedl signs of her delight. O beauteous Queen of second Troy ! Accept of our unfeigned joy ! Now birds record new harmony, And trees do whistle melody ; Now every thing that Nature breeds Doth clad itself in pleasant weeds. O beauteous Queen of second Troy ! Accept of our unfeigned joy ! SONNET LAME me not, dear Love ! though I talk at randon. Terming thee scornful, proud, unkind, disdainful. Since all I do can not my woes abandon, Or rid me of the yoke I feel so painful. If I do paint thy pride or want of pity. Consider likewise how I blaze thy beauty : 36 ' WATSON Inforced to the first in mournful ditty, Constrained to the last by servile duty. And take thou no offence if I misdeemed ! Thy beauty's glory quencheth thy pride's blemish : Better it is of all to be esteemed Fair and too proud than not fair and too squeamish. And seeing thou must scorn, and 'tis approved. Scorn to be ruthless since thou art beloved ! ANTHONY MUNDAY DIRGE FOR ROBIN HOOD WEEP, weep, ye woodmen ! wail ; Your hands with sorrow wring ! Your master, Robin Hood, lies dead : Therefore sigh as you sing ! Here lie his primer and his beads — His bent bow and his arrows keen ; His good sword and his holy cross : Now cast on flowers fresh and green ! And, as they fall, shed tears and say Well, well-a-day ! well, well-a-day ! Thus cast ye flowers fresh, and sing, And on to Wakefield take your way ! GEORGE PEELE CUFID'S CUESE ^NONE — FAIR and fair and twice so fair, As fair as any may be, — The fairest shepherd on our green, A Love for any Ladie ! Paris — Fair and fair and twice so fair, As fair as any may be, — Thy Love is fair for thee alone, And for no other Ladie. ^NONE — My Love is fair, my Love is gay, As fresh as been the flowers in May ; And of my Love my roundelay. My merry merry merry roundelay, Concludes with Cupid's Curse — They that do change old love for new, Pray Gods, they change for worse ! Both — They that do change ^NONE — Fair and fair and twice so fair. As fair as any may be, — The fairest shepherd on our green, A Love for any Ladie ! Paris — Fair and fair and twice so fair. As fair as any may be, — Thy Love is fair for thee alone, And for no other Ladie. 38 PEELE y^NONE — My Love can pipe, my Love can sing, My Love can many a pretty thing ; And of his lovely praises ring My merry merry roundelays : Amen to Cupid's Curse ! They that do change old love for new, Pray Gods, they change for worse ! Paris — They that do change old love for new, Pray Gods, they change for worse ! Both — Fair and fair COLIN' S SONG r\ GENTLE LOVE ! ungentle for thy deed, ^^ Thou makest my heart A bloody mark. With piercing shot to bleed : Shoot soft, sweet Love ! for fear thou shoot amiss. For fear too keen Thy arrows been And hit the heart where my Beloved is ! Too fair that fortune were, nor never I Shall be so blest Among the rest, Tliat Love shall seize on her by sympathy : Then since with Love my prayers bear no boot, This doth remain To cease my pain : I take the wound and die at Venus' foot. ROBERT GREENE DOB ON AND CAR3IELA AN ECLOGUE DORON O IT DOWN, CARMELA ! here are cobs for kings, * — ^ Sloes black as jet, or like my Christmas shoes ; Sweet cider, which my leathern bottle brings : Sit down, Carmela ! let me kiss thy toes ! CARMELA Ah, Doron ! ah, my heart ! thou art as white As is my mother's calf or brinded cow ; Thine eyes are like the slow-worm's in the night ; Thine hairs resemble thickest of the snow. The lines within thy face are deep and clear. Like to the furrows of my father's wain ; The sweat upon thy face doth oft appear, Like to my mother's fat and kitchen gain. Ah, leave my toes, and kiss my lips, my Love ! My lips are thine, for I have given them thee. Within thy cap 'tis thou shalt wear my glove ; At foot-ball sport thou shalt my champion be. 40 GREENE DORON Carmela dear ! even as the golden ball That Venus got, such are thy goodly eyes ; When cherries' juice is jumbled therewithal, Thy breath is like the steam of apj^le pies. Thy lips resemble two cucumbers fair ; Thy teeth like to the tusks of fattest swine ; Thy speech is like the thunder in the air : Would God thy toes, thy lips, and all were mine ! CARMELA Doron ! what thing doth move this wishing grief? DORON 'Tis Love, Carmela ! ah, 'tis cruel Love That, like a slave and caitiff villain thief. Hath cut my throat of joy for thy behove. CARMELA Where was he born? DORON r faith I know not where : But I have heard much talking of his dart. Ay me, poor man ! with many a trampling tear, I feel him wound the fore-horse of my heart. What, do I love ? O no, I do but talk ; What, shall I die for love ? O no, not so ; What, am I dead ? O no, my tongue doth walk : Come kiss, Carmela ! and confound my woe ! GREENE 41 CARMELA Even with this kiss, as once my father did, I seal the sweet indentures of delight : Before I break my vow the Gods forbid ! No, not by day, nor yet by darksome night. DORON Even with this garland made of hollyhocks I cross thy brows from every shepherd's kiss. Heigh-ho, how glad am I to touch thy locks My frolic heart even now a freeman is. CARMELA I thank you, Doron ! and will think on you ; I love you, Doron ! and will wink on you ; I seal your charter-patent with my thumbs. Come kiss, and part ! for fear my mother comes. INFIDAS SONG SWEET ADON ! darest not glance thine eye — N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! — Upon thy Venus that must die ? Je vous en prie, pity me ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ! mon bel ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! See how sad thy Venus lies, — N'oserez-vous ? mon bel ami ! — Love in heart and tears in eyes : Je vous en prie, pity me ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ! mon bel ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! 42 GREENE Tliy face is fair as Paphos' brooks — N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! — ^^'herein Fancy baits her hooks : Je vous en prie, pity me ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ! mon bel ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! Thy cheeks like cherries that do grow - N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! — Amongst the western mounts of snow : Je vous en prie, pity me ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ! mon bel ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! Thy lips vermilion full of love, — N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! — Thy neck as silver-white as dove : Je vous en prie, pity me ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ! mon bel ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! Thine eyes like flames of holy fires — N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! — Burn all my thoughts with sweet desires Je vous en prie, pity me ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ! mon bel ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! All thy beauties sting my heart ; — N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! — I must die through Cupid's dart : Je vous en prie, pity me ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ! mon bel ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! GREENE 43 Wilt thou let thy Venus die ? — N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! — Adon were unkind, say I — Je vous en prie, pity me ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ! mon bel ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! — To let fair Venus die for woe — N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! — That doth love sweet Adon so. Je vous en prie, pity me ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ! mon bel ! N'oserez-vous? mon bel ami ! MENAFHON'S ROUNDELAY WHEN tender ewes, brought home with evening sun, Wend to their folds. And to their holds The shepherds trudge when light of day is done, Upon a tree The Eagle, Jove's fair bird, did perch ; There resteth he : A little Fly his harbour then did search. And did presume, though others laugh'd thereat, To perch whereas the princely Eagle sat. The Eagle frown'd, and shook his royal wings. And charged the Fly From thence to hie : Afraid, in haste the little creature flings ; Yet seeks again. 44 GREENE Fearful, to perk him by the Eagle's side : With moody vein The speedy post of Ganymede repUed — Vassal ! avaunt ! or with my wings you die ; Is 't fit an Eagle seat him with a Fly ? The Fly craved pity ; still the Eagle frown'd : The silly Fly, Ready to die, Disgraced, displaced, fell gi'oveling to the ground : The Eagle saw, And with a royal mind said to the Fly — ^^ Be not in awe ! I scorn by me the meanest creature die : Then seat thee here ! The joyful Fly up flings, And sate safe, shadow'd with the Eagle's wings. SWEET CONTENT SWEET are the thoughts that savour of content ; The quiet mind is richer than a crown ; Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent ; The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown : Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss. Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss. The homely house that harbours quiet rest, The cottage that affords no pride nor care. The mean agrees with country music best, The sweet consort of mirth and modest fare, — Obscured life sets down as type of bliss : A mind content both crown and kingdom is. GREENE 45 MENAPHON'S SONG SOME say — Love, Foolish Love, Doth rule and govern all the Gods : I say — Love, Inconstant Love, Sets men's senses far at odds. Some swear — Love, Smooth-faced Love, Is sweetest sweet that man can have : I say — Love, Sour Love, Makes Virtue yield as Beauty's slave : A bitter sweet ; a folly worst of all, That forceth Wisdom to be Folly's thrall. Love is sweet : Wherein sweet? In fading pleasures that do pain ? Beauty sweet : Is that sweet That yieldeth sorrow for a gain ? If Love 's sweet. Herein sweet — That minutes' joys are monthly woes : 'Tis not sweet That is sweet Nowhere but where repentance grows. Then love who list ! if beauty be so sour. Labour for me ! love rest in prince's bower MICHAEL DRAYTON WHAT LOVE IS '\l\^TnXT IS LOVE but the desire * V Of that thing the fancy pleaseth ? A holy and resistless fire Weak and strong alike that seizeth : Which not Heaven hath power to let, Nor wise Nature can not smother ; Whereby Phoebus doth beget On the Universal Mother : That the everlasting chain Which together all things tied, And unmoved doth them retain, And by which they shall abide : That consent we clearly find Which doth things together draw And so, strong in every kind, Subjedls them to Nature's law : Whose high virtue Number teaches, In which every thing doth move, From the lowest depth that reaches To the height of heaven above : Harmony that, wisely found When the cunning hand doth strike, Whereas every amorous sound Sweetly marries with the like. DRAYTON 47 The tender cattle scarcely take From their dams, the fields to prove, But each seeketh out a make : Nothing lives that doth not love. Not so much as but the plant — As Nature every thing doth pair — By it if the male do want, Doth dislike and will not bear. Nothing, then, is like to Love, In the which all creatures be : From it ne'er let me remove ! Nor let it remove from me ! ROWLAND'S ROUNDELAY — To whom Her Swain, unworthy though he were, Thus unto Her his Roimdelay applies : To whom the rest the under-part did bear. Casting upon Her their still longing eyes. Rowland — Of her pure eyes, that now is seen. Chorus — Come, let us sing, ye faithful swains I RoviT^AND — O She alone the Shepherds' Queen, Chorus — Her flock that leads : The Goddess of these meads, These mountains, and these plains. Rowland — Those eyes of hers that are more clear Chorus — Than can poor shepherd's song express. Rowland — Than be his beams that rules the year : Chorus — Fie on that praise In striving things to raise That doth but make them less ! 48 DRAYTON Rowland — That do the flowery Spring prolong, Chorus — So all things in her sight do joy, Rowland — And keep the plenteous Summer young, Chorus — And do assuage The wrathful Winter's rage That would our flocks annoy. Rowland — Jove saw her breast that naked lay, Chorus — A sight most fit for Jove to see, Rowland — And swore it was the Milky Way : Chorus — Of all most pure The path, we us assure, To his bright court to be. Rowland — He saw her tresses hanging down. Chorus — That moved with the gentle air, Rowland — And said that Ariadne's Crown Chorus — With those compared The Gods should not regard, Nor Berenice's Hair. Rowland — When She hath watch'd my flocks by night. Chorus — O happy flocks that She did keep ! Rowland — They never needed Cynthia's light, Chorus — That soon gave place. Amazed with her grace That did attend thy sheep. Rowland — Above, where heaven's high glories are. Chorus — ^Vhen She is placed in the skies, Rowland — She shall be call'd the Shepherds' Star : Chorus — And evermore We shepherds will adore Her setting and her rise. DRAYTON 49 SONG OF 3I0TT0 AND FEBKIN Motto — Tell me, thou skilful shepherd swain ! Who 's yonder in die valley set? Perkin — O, it is She whose sweets do stain The lily, rose, the violet. Motto — Why doth the Sun, against his kind, Stay his bright chariot in the skies ? Perkin — He pauseth, almost stricken blind With gazing on her heavenly eyes. Motto — Why do thy flocks forbear their food. Which sometime was their chief delight? Perkin — Because they need no other good That live in presence of her sight. MoiTO — How come these flowers to flourish still, Not withering with sharp Winter's death? Perkin — She hath robb'd Nature of her skill, And comforts all things with her breath. Motto — Why slide these brooks so slow away, As swift as the wild roe that were ? Perkin — O muse not, shepherd ! that they stay, When they her heavenly voice do hear. Motto — From whence come all these goodly swains And lovely girls attired in green? Perkin — From gathering garlands on the plains, To crown thy Syl : our shepherds' Queen. ;0 DRAYTON The sun that hghts this world below, Flocks, brooks, and flowers, can witness bear, These shepherds and these nymphs do know, Thy Sylvia is as chaste as fair. I TO HIS COY LOVE PRAY THEE leave, love me no more, Call home the heart you gave me : I but in vain that Saint adore That can, but will not save me. These poor half-kisses kill me quite ; Was ever man thus served, Amidst an ocean of delight For pleasure to be steiTed? Show me no more those snowy breasts, With azure riverets branched, Where, whilst mine eye with plenty feasts, Yet is my thirst not staunched. O Tantalus ! thy pains ne'er tell, — By me thou art prevented : 'Tis nothing to be plagued in hell. But thus in heaven tormented ! Clip me no more in those dear arms. Nor thy life's comfort call me ! O these are but too powerful charms. And do but more enthrall me. But see how patient I am grown In all this coil about thee ! Come, Nice Thing ! let thy heart alone, I can not live without thee. JOHN DAVIES OF HEREFORD THE PICTURE OF AN HAPPY MAN H OW BLESS'D is he, though ever cross'd, That can all crosses blessings make ; That finds himself ere he be lost, And lose that found, for virtue's sake. Yea, bless'd is he in life and death, That fears not death, nor loves this life ; That sets his will his wit beneath ; And hath continual peace in strife. That striveth but with frail Desire^ Desiring nothing that is ill ; That rules his soul by Reason's squire, And works by Wisdom's compass still. That nought observes but what preserves His mind and body from offence ; That neither courts nor seasons serves, And learns without experience. That hath a name as free from blot As Virtue's brow, or as his life Is from the least suspe6l or spot, Although he lives without a wife. 5- DAVIES That doth, in spite of all debate, Possess his soul in patience ; And pray, in love, for all that hate ; And hate but what doth give offence. Whose soul is like a sea too still. That rests, though moved : yea, moved (at least) With love and hate of good and ill. To waft the mind the more to rest. That singly doth and doubles not; But is the same he seems ; and is Still simply so, and yet no sot, But yet not knowing ought amiss. That never sin concealed keeps, But shows the same to God, or moe ; Then ever for it sighs and weeps, And joys in soul for grieving so. That by himself doth others mete, And of himself still meekly deems ; That never sate in scorner's seat ; But as himself the worst esteems. That loves his body for his soul. Soul for his mind, his mind for God, God for Himself; and doth controul CONTENT, if it with Him be odd. That to his soul his sense subdues, His soul to reason, and reason to faith ; That vice in virtue's shape eschews. And both by wisdom rightly weigh'th. DAVIES 53 That rests in action, acting nought But what is good in deed and show ; That seeks but God within his thought, And thinks but God to love and know. That, all unseen, sees all (like Him), And makes good use of what he sees ; That notes the tracks and tricks of Time, And flees with the one, the other flees. That lives too low for envy's looks. And yet too high for loath'd contempt ; That makes his friends good men and books, And nought without them doth attempt. That lives as dying, living yet In death, for life he hath in hope ; As far from state as sin and debt. Of happy life the means and scope. That fears no frowns, nor cares for fawns Of Fortune's favourites, or foes ; That neither checks with kings nor pawns. And yet still wins what checkers lose. That ever lives a light to all, Though oft obscured, like the sun ; And though his fortunes be but small, Yet Fortune doth not seek, nor shun. That never looks but grace to find, Nor seeks for knowledge to be known ; That makes a kingdom of his mind. Wherein, with God, he reigns alone. 54 DAVIES This man is great with Httle state, Lord of the world epitomized : Who with staid front out-faceth Fate ; And, being empty, is sufficed, — Or is sufficed with little, since (at least) He makes his conscience a continual feast. IN PRAISE OF MUSIC ' I 'HE motion which the nine-fold sacred quire ^ Of angels make : the bliss of all the bless'd. Which (next the Highest) most fills the highest desire And moves but souls that move in Pleasure's rest : The heavenly charm that lullabies our woes. And recollects the mind that cares distract. The lively death of joyless thoughts o'erthrows. And brings rare joys but thought on into adl : Which like the Soul of all the world doth move, The universal nature of this All : The life of life, and soul of joy and love. High rapture's heaven : the That I can not call (Like God) by real name : and what is this But Music, next the Highest, the highest bliss ? THE SHOOTING STAB OO shoots a Star as doth my Mistress glide '"^At midnight through my chamber, which she makes Bright as the sky when moon and stars are spied, Wherewith my sleeping eyes amazed wake : Which ope no sooner than herself she shuts Out of my sight, away so fast she flies : DAVIES 5 5 Which me in mind of my sl^ck service puts ; For which all night I wake, to plague mine eyes. Shoot, Star ! once more, and if I be thy mark Thou shalt hit me, for thee I '11 meet withal. Let mine eyes once more see thee in the dark ! Else they with ceaseless waking out will fall : And if again such time and place I lose To close with thee, let mine eyes never close. LOVE'S BLAZONRY T A THEN I essay to blaze my lovely Love ^ ^ x\nd to express her all in colours quaint, I rob earth, sea, air, fire, and all above, Of their best parts, but her worst parts to paint : Staidness from earth, from sea the clearest part, From air her subtlety, from fire her light ; From sun, moon, stars, the glory they impart :» So rob and wrong I all, to do her right. But if the beauty of her mind I touch. Since that before touch'd touch but parts externe, I ransack heaven a thousand times as much : Since in that mind we may that Mind discern, That all in All that are or fair or good. And so She 's most divine, in flesh and blood. I AN HELLESPONT OF CREAM F there were, O ! an Hellespont of cream Between us, milk-white Mistress ! I would swim To you, to show to both my love's extreme, 56 DAVIES Leander-like, — yea ! dive from brim to brim. But met I with a butter'd pippin-pie Floating upon 't, that would I make my boat To waft me to you without jeopardy : Though sea-sick I might be while it did float. Yet if a storm should rise, by night or day, Of sugar-snows or hail of care-aways. Then, if I found a pancake in my way. It like a plank should bear me to your quays. Which having found, if they tobacco kept. The smoke should dry me well before I slept. THOMAS NASH FAIR SUMMER "rAIR Summer droops, droop men and beasts therefore ! -*- So fair a Summer never look for more ! All good things vanish less than in a day : Peace, plenty, pleasure, suddenly decay. Go not yet hence, bright soul of the sad year ! The earth is hell when thou leavest to appear. What ! shall those flowers that deck'd thy garland erst Upon thy gTave be wastefully dispersed ? O trees ! consume your sap in sorrow's source ; Streams ! turn to tears your tributary course. Go not yet hence, bright soul of the sad year ! The earth is hell when thou leavest to appear. GERVASE MARKHAM SIMPLES COME BUY, you lusty gallants ! These simples which I sell ! In all your days were never seen like these, For beauty, strength, and smell. Here 's the king-cup, the pansy with the violet, The rose that loves the shower. The wholesome gilliflower. Both the cowslip, lily, ^^V^' . And the daffodilly, '4 m^ With a thousand in my power. "^"":4> Here 's golden amaranthus That true love can provoke, Of horehound store, and poisoning hellebore. With the polipode of the oak ; Here 's chaste vervain, and lustful eringo. Health-preserving sage. And rue which cures old age ] With a world of others, Making fruitful mothers : All these attend me as my page. ii^?:i::^^A^y.^>^yj^^ JOHN DONNE THE FUNERAL A A WHOEVER comes to shroud me, do not harm ^ ^ Nor question much That subtle wreath of hair about mine arm ! The mystery, the sign you must not touch : For 'tis my outward soul, Viceroy to that which, then to heaven being gone, Will leave this to controul And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution. For if the sinewy thread my brain lets fall Through every part Can tie those parts and make me one of all. Those hairs, which upward grew and strength and art Have from a better brain, Can better do 't : except she mean'd that I By this should know my pain. As prisoners then are manacled, when they 're condemn'd to die. Whate'er she mean'd by 't, bury it with me ! For since I am Love's Martyr, it might breed idolatry If into other hands these relics came. As 'twas humility T' afford to it all that a soul can do, So 'tis some bravery That, since you would have none of me, I bury some of you. DONNE 59 THE UNDERTAKING T HAVE DONE one braver thing ^ Than all the Worthies did ; And yet a braver thence doth spring, Which is, to keep that hid. It were but madness now to impart The skill of specular stone, When he, which can have learn'd the art To cut it, can find none. So, if I now should utter this, Others, because no more Such stuff to work upon there is, Would love but as before. But he, who loveliness within Hath found, all outward loathes : For he, who colour loves and skin. Loves but th,eir oldest clothes. If, as I have, you also do Virtue in woman see, And dare love that, and say so too. And forget the He and She, — And if this love, though placed so. From profane men you hide, Which will no faith on this bestow Or, if they do, deride, — 6o DONNE Then you have done a braver thing Than all the Worthies did ; And a braver thence will spring, Which is, to keep that hid. BREAK OF DAY STAY, O SWEET ! and do not rise ! The light that shines comes from thine eyes : The day breaks not ; it is my heart, Because that you and I must part. Stay ! or else my joys will die, And perish in their infancy. 'Tis true, 'tis day : what though it be ? O wilt thou therefore rise from me ? Why should we rise because 'tis light ? Did we lie down because 'twas night ? Love, which in spite of darkness brought us hither, Should in despite of light keep us together. Light hath no tongue, but is all eye : If it could speak as well as spy, This were the worst that it could say, That being well I fain would stay, And that I loved my heart and honour so That I would not from him that had them go. Must business thee from hence remove ? Oh, that 's the worst disease of love. The poor, the false, the foul, love can Admit, but not the busied man. He which hath business, and makes love, doth do Such wrong as when a married man should woo. BEN JONSON EPITHALAMION UP ! youths and virgins ! up, and praise Tlie God whose nights outshine his days ! Hymen, whose hallow'd rites Could never boast of brighter hghts, Wliose bonds pass Uberty. Two of your troop, that with the morn were free, Are now waged to his war ; And what they are, If you '11 perfedion see, Yourselves must be. Shine, Hesperus ! shine forth, thou wished star ! What joy or honours can compare With holy nuptials, when they are Made out of equal parts Of years, of states, of hands, of hearts ; When in the happy choice The spouse and spoused have the foremost voice? Such, glad of Hymen's war, Live what they are And long perfection see : And such ours be. Shine, Hesperus ! shine forth, thou wished star ! 62 JONSON The solemn state of this one night Were fit to last an age's hght ; But there are rites behind Have less of state and more of kind : Love's wealthy crop of kisses, And fruitful harvest of his mother's blisses. Sound then to Hymen's war ! That what these are, Who will perfe6lion see May haste to be. Shine, Hesperus ! shine forth, thou wished star ! Love's Commonwealth consists of toys ; His Council are those antic boys, Games, Laughter, Sports, Delights, That triumph with him on these nights : To whom we must give way, For now their reign begins, and lasts till day. They sweeten Hymen's war. And in that jar Make all, that married be, Perfe6lion see. Shine, Hesperus ! shine forth, thou wished star ! Why stays the bridegroom to invade Her that would be a matron made ? Good-night ! whilst yet we may Good-night to you a virgin say. To-morrow rise the same Your mother is, and use a nobler name ! Speed well in Hymen's war. That what you are. JONSON 63 By your perfedlion, we And all may see ! Shine, Hesperus ! shine forth, thou wished star ! To-night is Venus' vigil kept, This night no bridegroom ever slept ; And if the fair bride do. The married say 'tis his fault too. Wake then, and let your lights Wake too, for they 'U tell nothing of your nights, But that in Hymen's war You perfeft are ; And such perfection we Do pray should be. Shine, Hesperus ! shine forth, thou wished star ! That, ere the rosy-finger'd Mom Behold nine moons, there may be born A babe to uphold the fame Of Ratdifte's blood and Ramsay's name ; That may, in his great seed. Wear the long honours of his father's deed. Such fruits of Hymen's war Most perfe6l are : And all perfection we Wish you should see. Shine, Hesperus ! shine forth, thou wished star ! 64 JONSON TF I FREELY MAY DISCOVER -^ What would please me in my lover : I would have her fair and witty, Savouring more of Court than City ; A little proud, but full of pity ; Light and humorous in her toying, Oft building hopes, and soon destroying, Long but sweet in the enjoying : Neither too easy nor too hard. All extremes I would have barr'd. She should be allow'd her passions, So they were but used as fashions : Sometimes froward, and then frowning ; Sometimes sickish, and then swouning ; Every fit with change still crowning : Purely jealous I would have her, Then only constant when I crave her : 'Tis a virtue should not save her. Thus, nor her delicates would cloy me, Nor her peevishness annoy me. HER MAN OF your trouble, BEN ! to ease me, I will tell what man would please me. I would have him, if I could, Noble, or of greater blood, — Titles, I confess, do take me, And a woman God did make me ; French to boot, at least in fashion, JONSON 65 And his manners of that nation. Young I 'd have him too, and fair, Yet a man ; with crisped hair, Cast in thousand snares and rings For Love's fingers and his wings. Chestnut colour, — or, more slack, Gold upon a ground of black ; Venus' and Minerva's eyes, For he must look wanton-wise ; Eye-brows bent like Cupid's bow ; Front an ample field of snow ; Even nose ; and cheeks withal Smooth as is the billiard-ball ; Chin as woolly as the peach ; And his lip should kissing teach, Till he cherish'd too much beard And made love, or me, afear'd. He should have a hand as soft As the down, and show it oft ; Skin as smooth as any rush, And so thin to see a blush Rising through it, ere it came ; All his blood should be a flame Quickly fired, as in beginners In Love's school, and yet no sinners. 'Twere too long to speak of all : What we harmony do call In a body should be there ; Well he should his clothes too wear, Yet no tailor help to make him, — Dress'd, you still for a man should take him. 66 JONSON And not think he had eat a stake Or were set up in a brake. Vahant he should be, as fire Showing danger more than ire ; Bounteous as the clouds to earth ; And as honest as his birth ; All his actions to be such As to do no thing too much, — Nor o'erpraise nor yet condemn. Nor out-value nor contemn. Nor do wrongs nor \M-ongs receive. Nor tie knots nor knots unweave ; And fi-om baseness to be free, As he durst love Truth and Me. Such a man, with every part, I could give my very heart : But of one if short he came, I can rest me where I am. IN THE PERSON OF WOMANKIND M EN ! if you love us, play no more The fools or tjTants with your friends, To make us still sing o'er and o'er Our own false praises, for your ends : We have both wits and fancies too ; And if we must, let 's sing of you ! Nor do we doubt but that we can, If we would search with care and pain. Find some one good in some one man ; So, going thorough all your strain. JONSON 6^ We shall at last of parcels make One good enough — for a song's sake. And as a cunning painter takes, In any curious piece you see, More pleasure while the thing he makes Than when 'tis made, why so will we : And having pleased our art we '11 try To make a new, and hang that by. BEGGING ANOTHER TpOR LOVE'S SAKE kiss me once again ! -^ I long and should not beg in vain ; Here 's none to spy thee : Why do you doubt or stay? I '11 taste as lightly as the bee. That doth but touch his flower and flies away. One more ! and, 'faith, I will be gone : Can he that loves ask less than one ? Nay ! you may err in this And all your bounty wrong : This could be call'd but half a kiss ; What were but once to do we should do long. I will but mend the last, and tell Where, how, it would have relish'd well ; Join lip to lip, and try ! Each suck the other's breath, And whilst our tongues perplexed lie Let who will think us dead, or wish our death. 6S JONSON SOIiG OF SATYRS A CATCH B UZZ ! quoth the Blue-Fly, Hum ! quoth the Bee ; Buzz and hum ! they cry, And so do we. (^ In his ear ! in his nose ! Thus, — do you see ? They tickle them. He eat the Dormouse ^-fij Else it was he. -^ <5> HER GLOVE ' I ^HOU more than most sweet Glove ^ Unto my more sweet Love ! Suffer me to store with kisses This empty lodging that now misses The pure rosy hand that wore thee, . Whiter than the kid that bore thee. Thou art soft, but that was softer. Cupid's self hath kiss'd it ofter Than e'er he did his mother's doves, Suj)posing her the Queen of Loves That was thy mistress. Best of Gloves ! JONSON 69 ON MARGARET RATCLIFFE MARBLE ! weep, for thou dost cover A dead beauty underneath thee, Rich as Nature could bequeath thee : Grant then no rude hand remove her ! All the gazers on the skies Read not in fair heaven's story Expresser truth or truer glory Than they might in her bright eyes. Rare as wonder was her wit. And like neftar overflowing ; Till Time, strong by her bestowing, Conquer'd hath both life and it : Life whose grief was out of fashion Li these times. Few so have rued Fate in another. To conclude, — For wit, feature, and true passion. Earth ! thou hast not such another. HIS EXCUSE FOR LOVING T ET IT NOT your wonder move, ^ — ' Less your laughter, that I love. Though I now write fifty years : I have had and have my peers. Poets, though divine, are men ; Some have loved as old again. And it is not always face, Clothes, or fortune, gives the grace. 70 JONSON Or the feature, or the youth ; But the language, and the truth With the ardour and the passion, Gives the lover weight and fashion. If you then will read the story, First prepare you to be sorry That you never knew till now Either whom to love or how ; But be glad as soon, with me. When you know that this is She Of whose beauty it was sung, — She shall make the old man young. Keep the middle age at stay, And let nothing high decay, Till She be the reason why All the world for love may die. t SONG OF NIGHT T3 REAK, Phantasy ! from thy cave of cloud ^ — * And spread thy purple wings, — Now all thy figures are allow'd. And various shapes of things : Create of airy forms a stream ! It must have blood, and nought of phlegm ; And though it be a waking dream, Chorus — Yet let it like an odour rise To all the senses here. And fall like sleep upon their eyes Or music in their ear. FRANCIS AND WALTER DAVISON TO UBANIA — FOR PARDON SWEET ! I do not pardon crave, Till I have By deserts this fault amended : This, I only this desire, That your ire May with penance be suspended. Not my will, but Fate, did fetch Me, poor wretch. Into this unhappy error : Which to plague, no tyrant's mind Pain can find Like my heart's self-guilty terror. Then, O then, let that suffice ! Your dear eyes Need not, need not more affiidl me ; Nor your sweet tongue, dipp'd in gall, Need at all From your presence interdi6l me. Unto him that Hell sustains No new pains 72 DAVISON Need be sought for his tormenting : O, my pains Hell's pains surpass ; Yet, alas ! You are still new pains inventing. By my love, long, firm, and true, Borne to you, — By these tears my grief expressing,— By this pipe, which nights and days Sounds your praise, — Pity me, my fault confessing ! Or, if I may not desire That your ire May with penance be suspended, Yet let me full pardon crave When I have With soon death my fault amended. UBANIA'S ANSWER IN INVERTED RHYMES— STAFF FOR STAFF OINCE true penance hath suspended ^^ Feigned ire. More I '11 grant than you desire. Faults confess'd are half amended ; And I have. In this half, all that I crave. Therefore banish now the terror ^^'hich you find In your guiltless grieved mind ! DAVISON 73 For, though you have made an error, From mCj wretch, First beginning it did fetch. Ne'er my sight I '11 interdid thee More at all ; Ne'er speak words more dipp'd in gall ; Ne'er, ne'er will I more afflict thee With these eyes : What is past shall now suffice. Now new joys I '11 be inventing, Which, alas ! May thy passed woes surpass. Too long thou hast felt tormenting ; Too great pains So great love and faith sustains. Let these eyes, by thy confessing Worthy praise. Never see more nights nor days, — Let my woes be past expressing, — When to you I cease to be kind and true ! Thus are both our states amended : For you have Fuller pardon than you crave ; And my- fear is quite suspended. Since mine ire Wrought the effe<5l I most desire. 74 DAVISON UPON HER PROTESTING THAT SHE LOVED HIM LADY ! you are with beauties so enriched, Of body and of mind, As I can hardly find Which of them all hath most my heart bewitched. Whether your skin so white, so smooth, so tender. Or face so lovely fair. Or heart-ensnaring hair. Or dainty hand, or leg and foot so slender. Or whether your sharp wit and lively spirit, Where pride can find no place, Or your most pleasing grace, Or speech, which doth true eloquence inherit. Most lovely all, and each of them doth move me More than words can express ; But yet I must confess I love you most because you please to love me. DAVISON 75 P ONLY SHE PLEASES HIM ASSIGN may my judgment blear, Therefore sure I will not swear That others are not pleasmg : But (I speak it to my pain And my life shall it maintain) None else yields my heart easing. Ladies I do ^hink there be, Other some as fair as she, Though none have fairer features ; But my turtle-like affection. Since of her I made election. Scorns other fairest creatures. Surely I will not deny But some others reach as high With their sweet warbling voices ; But, since her notes charm'd mine ear. Even the sweetest tunes I hear To me seem rude harsh noises. A COMPABISON O OME THERE ARE as fair to see too, ^^ But by art and not by nature ; Some as tall, and goodly be too, But want beauty to their stature ; Some have gracious, kind behaviour, But are foul or simple creatures ; 'j6 DAVISON Some have wit, but want sweet favour, Or are proud of their good features : Only you — and you want pity — Are most fair, tall, kind, and witty. TO CVPID LOVE ! if a God tKou art, Then evermore thou must / Be merciful and just : If thou be just, O wherefore doth thy dart Wound mine alone, and not my Lady's heart? If merciful, then way Am I to pain reserved Who have thee truly served. While she that by thy power sets not a fly Laughs thee to scorn and lives at liberty ? Then if a God thou wilt accounted be. Heal me like her, or else wound her like me ! BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER TELL ME ! He — TELL me, Dearest ! what is love ? She — 'Tis a lightning from above ; 'Tis an arrow ; 'tis a fire ; 'Tis a boy they call Desire. Both — 'Tis a grave Gapes to have Those poor fools that long to prove. He — Tell me more ! Are women true ? She — Yes ! some are ; and some as you. Some are willing, some are strange. Since you men first taught to change. Both — And till troth Be in both All shall love to love anew. He — Tell me more yet ! Can they grieve ? She — Yes ! and sicken sore, but live, And be wiser and delay When you men are wise as they. Both — Then I see Faith will be Never till they both beHeve. i yS BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER WEDDING SONG HOLD BACK thy hours, dark Night ! till we have done : The day will come too soon. Young maids will curse thee if thou stealest away And leavest their losses open to the day. Stay ! stay, and hide The blushes of the bride ! Stay, gentle Night ! and with thy darkness cover The kisses of her lover ! Stay, and confound her tears and her shrill cryings, Her weak denials, vows, and often dyings ! Stay, and hide all ; But help not, though she call ! FREEDOM IN LOVE NEVER MORE will I protest To love a woman, but in jest : For as they can not be true, So to give each man his due. When the wooing fit is past Their affedlion can not last. Therefore, if I chance to meet With a mistress fair and sweet, She my service shall olotain, Loving her, for love again : This much liberty I crave, — Not to be a constant slave. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER 79 But, when we have tried each other, If she better Hke another, Let her quickly change ! for me Then to change I am as free. He or She tliat loves too long Sell their freedom for a song. TRUE BEAUTY AY I FIND a woman fair, i\.nd her mind as clear as air ! If her beauty go alone, 'Tis to me as if 'twere none. M May I find a woman rich. And not of too high a pitch ! If that pride should cause disdain. Tell me, Lover ! where 's thy gain. May I find a woman wise, And her falsehood not disguise ! Hath she wit as she hath will, Double-arm'd she is to kill. May I find a woman kind. And not wavering like the wind ! How should I call that love mine When 'tis his, and his, and thine ? May I find a woman true ! There is beauty's fairest hue : There is beauty, love, and wit. Happy he can compass it ! 80 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER HYMN TO PAN SING HIS PRAISES, that doth keep Our flocks from harm, Pan, the father of our sheep ; And, arm in arm. Tread we softly in a round, While the hollow neighbouring ground Fills the music with her sound. Pan ! O great god Pan ! to thee Thus do we sing : Thou that keep'st us chaste and free As the young Spring. Ever be thy honour spoke. From that place where Morning broke To that place Day doth unyoke ! SONG FOR A DANCE SHAKE OFF your heavy trance ! And leap into a dance Such as no mortals use to tread : Fit only for Apollo To play to, for the Moon to lead. And all the Stars to follow. ROBERT BURTON THE ABSTRACT OF MELANCHOLY WHEN I go musing all alone, Thinking of divers things foreknown, When I build castles in the air, Void of sorrow and void of fear, Pleasing myself with phantasms sweet, Methinks the time runs very fleet. All my joys to this are folly : Nought so sweet as melancholy ! When I lie waking, all alone, Recounting what I have ill done. My thoughts on me then tyrannize, Fear and sorrow me surprize : Whether I tarry still or go, Methinks the time moves very slow. All my griefs to this are jolly : Nought so sad as melancholy ! When to myself I ad, and smile, With pleasing thoughts the time beguile. By a brook-side or wood so green. Unheard, unsought for, or unseen, 82 BURTON A thousand pleasures do me bless And crown my soul with happiness. All my joys besides arc folly : Nought so sweet as melancholy ! When I lie, sit, or walk alone, I sigh, I grieve, making great moan, In a dark grove, or irksome den. With discontents and furies, — then A thousand miseries at once Mine heavy heart and soul ensconce. All my griefs to this are jolly : None so sour as melancholy ! Methinks I hear, methinks I see, Sweet music, wondrous melody, Towns, palaces, and cities fine, — Here now, then there, the world is mine ; Rare beauties, gallant ladies shine, Whate'er is lovely or divine. All other joys to this are folly : None so sweet as melancholy ! Methinks I hear, methinks I see, Ghosts, goblins, fiends, — my phantasy Presents a thousand ugly shapes, Headless bears, black men, and apes ; Doleful outcries, fearful sights. My sad and dismal soul affrights. All my griefs to this are jolly : None so damn'd as melancholy ! BURTON 83 Methinks I court, methinks I kiss, Methinks I now embrace my Miss : blessed days ! O sweet content ! In Paradise my time is spent. Such tlioughts may still my fancy move : So may I ever be in love ! All my joys to this are folly : Nought so sweet as melancholy ! When I recount love's many frights, My sighs and tears, my waking nights, My jealous fits, — O mine hard fate ! 1 now repent, but 'tis too late. No torment is so bad as love. So bitter to my soul can prove. All my griefs to this are jolly : Nought so harsh as melancholy ! Friends and companions ! get you gone ! 'Tis my desire to be alone : Ne'er well but when my thoughts and I Do domineer in privacy. No gem, no treasure like to this, 'Tis my delight, my crown, my bliss. All my joys to this are folly : Nought so sweet as melancholy ! 'Tis my sole plague to be alone : I am a beast, a monster grown ; I will no light nor company, I find it now my misery : 84 BURTON The scene is turn'd, my joys are gone, Fear, discontent, and sorrows come. All my griefs to this are jolly : Nought so fierce as melancholy ! I '11 not change life with any king, I ravish'd am : can the world bring More joy than still to laugh and smile. In pleasant toys time to beguile ? Do not, O do not trouble me ! So sweet content I feel and see. All my joys to this are folly : None so divine as melancholy ! I '11 change my state with any -wTetch Thou canst from jail or dunghill fetch ; My pain past cure, another hell, I may not in this torment dwell. Now, desperate, I hate my life ; Lend me a halter or a knife ! All my griefs to this are jolly : Nought so damn'd as melancholy ! WILLIAM DRUMMOND SEXTAIN SITH gone is my delight and only pleasure, The last of all my hopes, the cheerful sun That clear'd my life's dark day, Nature's sweet treasiu'e, More dear to me than all beneath the moon, What resteth now but that ujDon this mountain I weep till heaven transform me to a fountain ? Fresh, fair, delicious, crystal, pearly fountain, On whose smooth face to look She oft took pleasure ! Tell me (so may thy streams long cheer this mountain, So serpent ne'er thee stain, nor scorch thee sun. So may with gentle beams thee kiss the moon !) Dost thou not mourn to want so fair a treasure ? While She her glass'd in thee rich Tagus' treasure Thou envy needed not, nor yet the fountain In which the hunter saw the naked Moon ; Absence hath robb'd thee of thy wealth and pleasure, And I remain like marigold, of sun Deprived, that dies, by shadow of some mountain. Nymphs of the forests, nymphs who on this mountain Are wont to dance, showing your beauty's treasure To goat-feet Sylvans and the wondering Sun ! Whenas you gather flowers about this fountain, 86 DRUMMOND Bid Her farewell who ijlaced here her pleasure ; And sing her praises to the stars and moon ! Among the lesser lights as is the Moon, Blushing through scarf of clouds on Latmos mountain Or when her silver locks she looks for pleasure In Thetis' stream proud of so gay a treasure, Such was my Fair when she sat by this fountain, With other nymphs, to shun the amorous Sun. As is our earth in absence of the sun, Or when of sun deprived is the moon, As is without a verdant shade a fountain. Or wanting grass a mead, a vale, a mountain, — Such is my state, bereft of my dear treasure, To know whose only worth was all my pleasure. Ne'er think of pleasure, heart ! — eyes ! shun the sun ; Tears be your treasure, which the wandering moon Shall see you shed, by mountain, vale, and fountain. DEATH NOT FEARED T FEAR NOT henceforth death, -*- Sith after this departure yet I breathe. Let rocks and seas and wind Their highest treasons show ; Let sky and earth combined Strive if they can to end my life and woe ! Sith grief can not, me nothing can o'erthrow. Or if that aught can cause my fatal lot, : It will be when I hear I am forgot. DRUMMOND " 8/ MADRIGAL SWEET ROSE ! whence is this hue Which doth all hues excel? Whence this most fragrant smell ? And whence this form and gracing grace in you ? In flowery Pcestum's field perhaps ye grew, Or Hybla's hills you bred, Or odoriferous Enna's plains you fed, .Or Tmolus, or where boar young Adon slew. Or hath the Queen of Love you dyed of new In that dear blood, which makes you look so red ? No ! none of these, but cause more high you bliss'd My Lady's breast you bare, and lips you kiss'd. PLEASANT DEATH "pvEAR LIFE ! while I do touch -*—^ These coral ports of bliss, Which still themselves do kiss And sweetly me invite to do as much, All panting in my lips My heart my sense doth leave. No sense my senses have, And inward powers do find a strange eclipse. This death so heavenly well Doth so me please, that I Would never longer seek in sense to dwell, If that even thus I only could but die. 88 ' DRUMMOND MADRIGAL A D/EDAL of my death — ^^ I semble now that subtle worm uneath : Which, prone to its own ill, can take no rest : P'or, with strange thoughts possess'd, I feed on fading leaves Of hope, which me deceives And thousand webs doth warp within my breast. And thus in end unto myself I weave A fast-shut prison No ! but even a grave. NATHANIEL FIELD MATIN SONG RISE, Lady Mistress ! rise ! The night hath tedious been ; No sleep hath fallen into mine eyes, Nor slumbers made me sin. Is not She a saint then, say ! Thought of whom keeps sin away? Rise Madam ! rise, and give me light, Whom darkness stiU will cover And ignorance, more dark tlian night, Till thou smile on thy lover. All want day till thy beauty rise : For the grey morn breaks from thine eyes. JOHN WEBSTER DIBGE H ARK ! now every thing is still, The screech-owl and the whistler shrill Call upon our Dame aloud, And bid her quickly don her shroud. Much you had of land and rent, — Your length in clay 's now competent ; A long war disturb'd your mind,— Here your perfeft peace is sign'd. Of what is 't fools make such vain keeping? Sin their conception, their birth weeping, Their life a general mist of error, Their death a hideous storm of terror. Strew your hair with powders sweet ; Don clean Unen ; bathe your feet ; And (the foul fiend more to check) A crucifix let bless your neck ! 'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day : End your groan and come away ! WILLIAM BROWNE VENUS AND ADONIS VENUS by Adonis' side Crying kiss'd and kissing cried ; Wrung her hands and tore her hair For Adonis dying there. Stay ! quoth she : O stay and hve ! Nature surely doth not give To the earth her sweetest flowers To be seen but some few hours. On his face, still as he bled, For each drop a tear she shed. Which she kiss'd or wiped away, — Else had drown'd him where he lay. Fair Proserpina, quoth she, Shall not have thee yet from mc ; Nor thy soul to fly begin While my lips can keep it in. Here she closed again. And some Say — Apollo would have come •To have cured his wounded limb, — But that she had smother'd liim. ROBERT HERRICK THE TEAR GLIDE, gentle Stream ! and bear Along with you my tear To that coy Girl Who smiles, yet slays Me with delays, And strings my tears as pearl. See ! see ! She 's yonder set, Making a carcanet Of maiden flowers : There, there present This orient And pendant pearl of ours ! Then say I 've sent one more Gem to enrich her store ; And that is all Which I can send Or vainly spend, For tears no more will fall. Nor will I seek supply Of them, the springs once dry ; But I '11 devise 92 HERRICK (Among the rest) A way that 's best How I may save mine eyes. Yet say, should She condemn Me to surrender them, — Then say, ray part Must be to weep Out them, to keep A poor yet loving heart. Say too, She would have this : She shall. Then my hope is That, when I 'm poor, And nothing have To send or save, I 'm sure She '11 ask no more. SWEET AMARYLLIS SWEET AMARYLLIS, by a spring's Soft and soul-melting murmurings Slept ; and, thus sleeping, thither flew A Robin Red-breast, who at view, Not seeing her at all to stir. Brought leaves and moss to cover her. But while he, j^erking, there did pry, About the arch of either eye The lid began to let out day : At which poor Robin flew away ; And seeing her not dead, but all disleaved, He chirp'd for joy to sec himself deceived. HERRICK 93 PANSIES FROLIC VIRGINS once these were, Over-loving, living here, — Being here their ends denied. Ran for Sweethearts mad, and died. Love, in pity of their tears. And their loss in blooming years, For their restless here-spent hours Gave them hearts' ease, turn'd to Flowers. TO DAISIES SHUT NOT so soon ! the dull-eyed Night Has not as yet begun To make a seizure on the light Or to seal up the sun. No marigolds yet closed are, No shadows great appear, Nor doth the early shepherd's star Shine like a spangle here. Stay but until my Julia close Her life-begetting eye : And let the whole world then dispose Itself to live or die. 94 HERRICK LOVE MAKES ALL LOVELY WHAT I FANCY I approve: No dislike there is in love. Be my Mistress short or tall, And distorted therewithal, Be She likewise one of those That an acre hath of nose, Be her forehead and her eyes Full of incongruities, Be her cheeks so shallow too As to show her tongue wag through, Be her lips ill hung or set, And her grinders black as jet, Hath She thin hair, hath She none, She 's to me a paragon. A VALENTINE CHOOSE ME your Valentine ! Next, let us maiTy ! Love to the death will pine If we long tarry. Promise and keep your vows. Or vow you never ! Love's doctrine disallows Troth-breakers ever. You have broke promise twice, Dear ! to undo me ; If you prove faithless thrice, None then will woo ye. HERRICK 95 TO WATEE-NYMPHS * DRINKING AT A FOUNTAIN REACH with your whiter hands to me Some crystal of the spring ! And I about the cup shall see Fresh lilies flourishing. Or else, sweet Nymphs ! do you but this : To the glass your lips incline, And I shall see by that one kiss The water turn'd to wine. I ww^^ TO ELECTRA DARE NOT ask a kiss, I dare not beg a smile, Lest having that or this I might grow proud the while. No ! no ! the utmost share Of my desire^shall be Only to kiss that air That lately kissed thee. 1 RICHARD BRATHWAITE A FIG FOR CARE HAPPY is that state of his Who the world takes as it is ! Lose he honour, friendship, wealth, Lose he liberty or health, Lose he all that earth can give, Having nought whereon to live, So prepared a mind 's in him, He 's resolved to sink or swim. Should I aught dejeded be 'Cause blind Fortune frowns on me ? Or put finger in the eye When I see my Damon die? Or repine such should inherit More of honours than of merit ? Or put on a sourer face To see Virtue in disgi-ace ? Should I weep when I do try Fickle friends' inconstancy. Quite discarding mine and me When they should the firmest be ? BRATHWAITE 97 Or think much when barren brams Are possess'd of rich domains, When in reason it were fit They had wealth unto their wit ? Should I spend the morn in tears 'Cause I see my neighbour's ears Stand so slopewise from his head, As if they were horns instead ? Or to see his wife at once Branch his brow and break his sconce ; Or to hear her in her spleen Callet like a butter-quean ? Should I sigh because I see Laws like spider-webs to be. Lesser flies there quickly ta'en. While the great break out again ? Or so many schisms and se(Sts, Vvhich foul heresy detec^ts. To suppress the fire of zeal Both in church and commonweal? No ! there 's nought on earth I fear That may force from me one tear. Loss of honours, freedom, health ; Or that mortal idol, wealth : With these babes may grieved be. But they have no power o'er me. Less my substance, less my share In my fear and in my care. 98 BRATHWAITE Thus to love, and thus to live, Thus to take, and thus to give. Thus to laugh, and thus to sing, Thus to mount on pleasure's wing, Thus to sport, and thus to speed, 'Thus to flourish, nourish, feed. Thus to spend, and thus to spai-e, Is to bid a fig for care. I THOMAS GOFFE TO SLEEP "T^ ROP golden showers, gentle Sleep ! -'— ^ And all ye Angels of the Night Which do us in protection keep. Make this Queen dream of delight ! Morpheus ! kind a little, be Death's now true image, for 'twill prove To this poor Queen that thou art he : Her grave is made i' the bed of Love. Thus with sweet sweets can Heaven mix gall, And marriage turn to funeral. uvsr />S2?v i5'.'? ys^' -''' .^-^£y-''^:^>'':^=^^i-^^ '. I.- jii^'-s%,'^^/:S^%.\Tjr/fs^\-^'f^/^. aC:-'- -.^A^T->"v/'.i^fnt\. ■* .^..^■JA JAMES SHIRLEY TO ODELIA HEALTH to my fair Odelia ! Some that know How many months are past Since I beheld thy lovely brow, Would count an age at least ; But unto me, Whose thoughts are still on thee, I vow By thy black eyes, 'tis but an hour ago. That Mistress I pronounce but poor in bliss That, when her servant parts, Gives not as much with her last kiss As will maintain two hearts Till both do meet To taste what else is sweet. Is 't fit Time measure love, or our affection it? Cherish that heart, Odelia ! that is mine : And if the North thou fear. Dispatch but from thy southern clime A sigh, to warm thine here ! But be so kind TOO SHIRLEY I To send by the next wind : 'Tis far, And many accidents do wait on war. HUE AND CRY N LOVE'S NAME you are charged. O fly, And make a speedy hue and cry After a face, which t' other day Stole my wandering heart away ! To direct you take, in brief, These few marks to know the thief. Her hair, a net of beams, would prove Strong enough to imprison Jove Dress'd in his eagle's shape ; her brow Is a spacious field of snow ; Her eyes so rich, so pure a grey. Every look creates a day. And if they close themselves (not when The sun doth set) 'tis night again ; In her cheeks are to be seen Of flowers both the king and queen, Thither by all the Graces led And smiling in their nuptial bed ; On whom, like pretty nymphs, do wait Her twin-born lips, whose virgin state They do deplore themselves, nor miss To blush so often as they kiss Without a man. Beside the rest. You shall know this felon best By her tongue : for when your ear « I SHIRLEY lOI Once a harmony shall hear So ravishing you do not know Whether you be in heaven or no, That, that is She. O straight surprize And bring her unto Love's assize ! But lose no time, for fear that she Ruin all mankind like me, Fate and philosophy controul. And leave the world without a soul. TO HIS 3IISTBESS WOULD the God of Love would die, And give his bow and shafts to me : I ask no other legacy : This happy fate I then would prove. That, since thy heart I can not move I 'd cure and kill my own v/ith love. Yet why should I so cruel be. To kill myself with loving thee, And thou a tyrant still to me ? Perhaps, could'st thou affection show To me, I should not love thee so, And that would be my medicine too. Then choose to love me or deny, I will not be so fond to die, A martyr to thy cruelty : If thou be'st weary of me, when Thou art so wise to love again. Command, and I '11 forsake thee then. I02 SHIRLEY SONG TO HYMEN A A THAT HELP of tongue do they require * V Qr use of other art, Whose hands thus speak their chaste desire And grasp each other's heart? Weak is that chain that 's made of air, Our tongues but chase our breath : When pahns thus meet there 's no despair To make a double wreath. Give but a sigh, a speaking look, I care not for more noise ; Or let me kiss your hand — the book, And I have made my choice. TO ONE SAYING SHE WAS OLD n^ELL ME NOT Time hath play'd the thief ^ Upon her beauty ! My belief Might have been mock'd, and I had been An heretic, if I had not seen My Mistress is still fair to me, And now I all those graces see That did adorn her virgin brow. Her eye hath the same flame in 't now, To kill or save, the chemist's fire Equally burns, — so my desire ; Not any rose-bud less within Her cheek ; the same snow on her chin ; Her voice that heavenly music bears SHIRLEY 10' First charra'd my soul, and in my ears Did leave it trembling ; her lips are The self-same lovely twins they were ; — After so many years I miss No flower in all my paradise. Time ! I despise thy rage and thee : Thieves do not always thrive, I see. THE LOOKING-GLASS WHEN this crystal shall present Your beauty to your eye, Think ! that lovely face was meant To dress another by. For not to make them proud These glasses are allow'd To those are fair, But to compare The inward beauty with the outward grace, And make them fair in soul as well as face. ON HER DANCING STOOD and saw my Mistress dance, Silent, and with so fix'd an eye. Some might suppose me in a trance : But being asked why. By One that knew I was in love, I could not but impart My wonder, to behold her move So nimbly with a marble heart. I WILLIAM HABINGTON QUI QUASI FLOS EGBEDITUR F AIR MADAM ! you May see what 's man in yon bright rose : Though it the wealth of Nature owes, It is oppress'd and bends with dew. Which shows, though Fate May promise still to warm our lips, And keep our eyes from an eclipse, It will our pride with tears abate. Poor silly flower ! Though on thy beauty thou presume. And breath which doth the Spring perfume, Thou mayst be cropp'd this very hour. And though it may Then thy good fortune be to rest On the pillow of some Lady's breast, Thou 'It wither and be thrown away. For 'tis thy doom, However, that there shall appear No memory that thou grew'st here, Ere the tempestuous winter come. HABINGTON 10 = But flesh is loath By meditation to foresee How loathed a nothing it must be, — Proud in the triumphs of its growth ; And tamely can Behold this mighty world decay And wear by the age of Time away, Yet not discourse the fall of man. But, Madam ! these Are thoughts to cure sick human pride ; And medicines are in vain applied To bodies far 'bove all disease. For you so live As the Angels, in one perfe(5l state : Safe from the ruins of our fate By virtue's great preservative. And though we see Beauty enough to warm each heart, Yet you, by a chaste chemic art, Calcine frail love to piety. FINE YOUNG FOLLY FINE young Folly ! though you were That fair beauty I did swear, Yet you ne'er could reach my heart : For we courtiers learn at school Only with your sex to fool ; You 're not worth the serious part. I06 HABINGTON When I sigh and kiss your hand, Cross my arms and wondering stand, Holding parley with your eye ; Then dilate on my desires. Swear the sun ne'er shot such fires : All is but a handsome He. When I eye your curl or lace, Gentle Soul ! you think your face Straight some murder doth commit ; And your virtue doth begin To grow scrupulous of my sin. When I talk to show my wit. Therefore, Madam ! wear no cloud. Nor to check my love grow proud : For in sooth I much do doubt 'Tis the powder in your hair, Not your breath, perfumes the air ; And your clothes that set you out. Yet, though truth has this confess'd, And I vow I love in jest. When I next begin to court And protest an amorous flame You will swear I earnest am : — Bedlam ! this is pretty sport. HABINGTON IO7 THE PERFECTION OF LOVE YOU who are earth and can not rise Above your sense, Boasting the envied wealth which lies Bright in your Mistress' lips or eyes, Betray a pitied eloquence. That which doth join otir souls so light And quick doth move That, like the eagle in his flight, It doth transcend all human sight, Lost in the element of love. You poets reach not this who sing The praise of dust. But kneaded, when by theft you bring The rose and lily from the Spring To adorn the wrinkled face of Lust. When we speak love, nor art nor wit We gloss upon : Our souls engender, and beget Ideas, — which you counterfeit In your dull propagation. While Time seven ages shall disperse We '11 talk of love ; And when our tongues hold no commerce Our thoughts shall mutually converse, And yet the blood no rebel prove. io8 HABINGTON And though we be of several kind, Fit for offence, Yet are we so by love refined From impure dross, we are all mind : Death could not more have conquer'd sense. How suddenly those flames expire Which scorch our clay ! Prometheus-like when we steal fire From heaven, 'tis endless and entire ; It may know age, but not decay. SIR RICHARD FANSHAWE OF BEAUTY LET us use it while we may Snatch those joys that haste away ! Earth her winter coat may cast, And renew her beauty past : But, our winter come, in vain We solicit Spring again ; And when our furrows snow shall cover Love may return, but never lover. EDMUND WALLER TO A FAIR LADY PLAYING WITH A SNAKE STRANGE, that such horror and such grace Should dwell together in one place : A Fury's arm, an Angel's face ! 'Tis innocence, and youth, which makes In Chloris' fancy such mistakes : To start at love and play with snakes. By this and by her coldness barr'd, Her servants have a task too hard : The Tyrant has a double guard. Thrice happy Snake, that in her sleeve May boldly creep ! we dare not give Our thoughts so unconfined a leave. Contented in that nest of snow He lies, as he his bliss did know ; And to the wood no more will go. Take heed, fair Eve ! you do not make Another tempter of this Snake : A marble one so warm'd would speak. no WALLER TO MY YOUNG LADY LUCY SIDNEY WHY came I so untimely forth Into a world which, wanting thee, Could entertain us with no worth Or shadow of felicity. That time should me so far remove From that which I was born to love ? Yet, Fairest Blossom ! do not slight That age which you may know so soon : The rosy morn resigns her light And milder glory to the noon _; And then what wonders shall you do Whose dawning beauty warms us so ? Hope waits upon the flowery prime ; And Summer, though it be less gay, Yet is not look'd on as a time Of declination or decay : For with a full hand that does bring All that was promised by the Spring. AN APOLOGY FOR HAVING LOVED BEFORE THEY that never had the use Of the grape's surprizing juice To the first delicious cup All their reason render up : Neither do nor care to know Whether it be best or no. WALLER I I I So they that are to love indined, Sway'd by chance, not choice or art, To the first that 's fair or kind Make a present of their heart. 'Tis not She that first we love, But whom dying we approve. To man, that was in the evening made. Stars gave the first delight, Admiring in the gloomy shade Those little drops of light ; Then at Aurora, whose fair hand Removed them from the skies. He gazing tow'rd the East did stand, She entertain'd his eyes. But when the bright Sun did appear All those he 'gan despise ; His wonder was determined there. And could no longer rise : He neither might nor wish'd to know A more refulgent light, For that, as mine your beauties now, Employ'd his utmost sight. TO A LADY WHO GAVE HIM A LOST COPY OP A POEM NOTHING hes hid from radiant eyes ; All they subdue become their spies ; Secrets, as choicest jewels, are Presented to oblige the Fair : 112 WALLER No wonder then that a lost thought Should there be found where souls are caught. The picture of fair Venus (that For which men say the Goddess sat) Was lost, till Lely from your look Again that glorious image took. If Virtue's self were lost, we might From your fair mind new copies write. All things but one you can restore : The heart you get returns no more. STAY, PHCEBUS! STAY, Phoebus ! stay ! The world to which you fly so fast, Conveying day From us to them, can pay your haste With no such obje6l nor salute your rise With no such wonder as De Mornay's eyes. Well does this prove The error of those antique books \Vhich made you move About the world : Her charming looks Would fix your beams, and make it ever day, Did not the rolling earth snatch her away. SIR JOHN SUCKLING I A BALLAD OF A WEDDING TELL thee, DICK ! where I have been, Where I the rarest things have seen, O, things beyond compare ! Such sights again can not be found In any place on EngUsh ground, Be it at wake or fair. At Charing- Cross, hard by the way Where we, thou know'st, do sell our hay, There is a House with stairs ; And there did I see coming down Such volk as are not in our town, Vorty at least, in pairs. Amongst the rest One pest'lent fine. His beard no bigger though than thine, Walk'd on before the best : Our Landlord looks like nothing to him ; The King, God bless him ! 'twould undo him Should he go still so dress'd. At course-a-park, without all doubt. He should have first been taken out By all the maids i' the town. Though lusty Roger there had been, 114 SUCKLING Or little George upon the Green, Or Vincent of the Crown. But wot you what ? the Youth was going To make an end of all his wooing ; The parson for him stay'd : Yet by his leave, for all his haste, He did not so much wish all past, Perchance, as did the Maid. The Maid, — and thereby hangs a tale, For such a Maid no Widson ale Could ever yet produce : No grape that 's kindly ripe could be So round, so plump, so soft as she. Nor half so full of juice. Her finger was so small the ring Would not stay on which he did bring. It was too wide a peck ; And to say truth, for out it must, It look'd like the great collar, just. About our young colt's neck. Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice stole in and out. As if they fear'd the light ; But, Dick ! she dances such a way, No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight. He would have kiss'd her once or twice, But she would not, she was so nice. SUCKLING 115 She would not do 't in sight ; And then she look'd as who would say I will do what I list to-day, And you shall do 't at night. Her cheeks so rare a white was on, No daisy makes comparison, — Who sees them is undone : For streaks of red were mingled there Such as are on a Katherine pear, The side that 's next the sun. Her lips were red, and one was thin, . Compared to that was next her chin, — Some bee had stung it newly : But, Dick ! her eyes so guard her face, I durst no more upon them gaze Than on the sun in July. Her mouth so small, when she does speak, Thou 'dst swear her teeth her words did break, That they might passage get ; But she so handled still the matter. They came as good as ours, or better, And are not spent a whit. If wishing should be any sin The parson himself had guilty been. She look'd that day so purely ; And did the Youth so oft the feat At night as some did in conceit. It would have spoil'd him surely. Il6 SUCKLING Passion o' me ! how I run on : There 's that that would be thought upon, I trow, besides the Bride : The business of the kitchen 's great, For it is fit that men should eat ; Nor was it there denied. Just in the nick the cook knock'd thrice, And all the waiters in a trice His summons did obey ; Each serving-man with dish in hand March'd boldly up, like our train'd band. Presented, and away. When all the meat was on the table What man of knife, or teeth, was able To stay to be intreated ? And this the very reason was Before the parson could say grace The company was seated. Now hats fly off, and youths carouse ; Healths first go round, and then the house,- The Bride's came thick and thick ; And when 'twas named another's health, Perhaps he made it her's by stealth : And who could help it? Dick ! O' the sudden up they rise and dance ; Then sit again, and sigh, and glance ; Then dance again and kiss : Thus several ways the time did pass, SUCKLING 117 Whilst every woman wish'd her place, And every man wish'd his. By this time all were stolen aside To counsel and undress the Bride, But that he must not know : But it was thought he guess'd her mind, And did not mean to stay behind Above an hour or so. When in he came, Dick ! there she lay Like new-fall'n snow melting away, — 'Twas time. I trow, to part : Kisses were now the only stay. Which soon she gave, as who would say God b' w' y' ! with all my heart. But just as heavens would have to cross it In came the bridemaids with the posset ; The Bridegroom eat in spite : For had he left the women to 't. It would have cost two hours to do 't, Which were too much that night. At length the candle 's out, and now All that they had not done they do : What that is who can tell? But I believe it was no more Than thou and I have done before With Bridget and with Nell. Il8 SUCKLING LOVING AMISS TTONEST LOVER whosoever! ^ ^ If in all thy love there ever Was one wavering thought, thy flame Were not still even, still the same, Know this : Thou lovest amiss And, to love true, Thou must begin again and love anew. If when She appears i' the room Thou dost not quake and art struck dumb. And in striving this to cover Dost not speak thy words twice over, Know this : Thou lovest amiss And, to love true. Thou must begin again and love anew. If fondly thou dost not mistake And all defefts for graces take, Persuade thyself that jests are broken When she hath little or nought spoken, Know this : Thou lovest amiss And, to love true, Thou must begin again and love anew. If when thou appear'st to be within Thou lett'st not men ask and ask again. SUCKLING 119 And when thou answerest, if it be To what was ask'd thee properly, Know this : Thou lovest amiss And, to love true, Thou must begin again and love anew. If when thy stomach calls to eat Thou cutt'st not fingers 'stead of meat And, with much gazing on her face, Dost not rise hungry from thy place, Know this : Thou lovest amiss And, to love true, Thou must begin again and love anew. If by this thou dost discover That thou art no perfeft lover And, desiring to love true. Thou dost begin to love anew, Know this : Thou lovest amiss And, to love true. Thou must begin again and love anew. A A HEALTH HEALTH to the nut-brown Lass With the hazel eyes ! Let it pass She that hath good eyes Is a prize. Let it pass ! let it pass ! I20 SUCKLING As much to the hvely grey : As good i' the night as day ! She that hath good eyes, Fair and wise Drink away ! drink away ! I pledge, I pledge : what, ho ! some wine ! Here 's to thine and to thine The colours are divine : But O, to the black ! the black ! Give me as much again, and let it be sack ! She that hath black eyes Hath Love's guise And, it may be, a better knack. BARLEY-BREAK LOVE, Reason, Hate, did once bespeak Three mates to play at barley-break. Love Folly took, and Reason Fancy, And Hate consorts with Pride : so dance they. Love coupled last : and so it fell That Love and Folly were in Hell. They break, and Love would Reason meet, But Hate was nimble on her feet ; Fancy looks for Pride and thither Hies, and they two hug together : Yet this new coupling still doth tell That Love and Folly were in Hell. The rest do break again, and Pride Hath now got Reason on her side ; SUCKLING 121 Hate and Fancy meet, and stand Untouch'd by Love in Folly's hand : Folly was dull, though Love ran well : So Love and Folly were in Hell. THOMAS NABBES HER REAL WORTH WHAT though with figures I should raise Above all height my Mistress' praise, Calling her cheek a blushing rose, The fairest June did e'er disclose, Her forehead liUes, and her eyes The luminaries of the skies ; That on her lips ambrosia grows. And from her kisses nectar flows ? Too great hyperboles ! unless She loves me she is none of these. But if her heart and her desires Do answer mine with equal fires, These attributes are then too poor : She is all these, and ten times more. JOSEPH RUTTER SONG OF VENUS /^OME, Lovely Boy ! unto my court, ^-^ And leave these uncouth woods and all That feed thy fancy with love's gall But keep away the honey and the sport ! Chorus of Graces — Come unto me ! And with variety Thou shalt be fed : which Nature loves, and I. There is no music in a voice That is but one, and still the same : Inconstancy is but a name To fright poor lovers from a better choice. Chorus — Come then to me ! Orpheus that on Eurydice Spent all his love, on others scorn, Now on the banks of Hebrus torn Finds the reward of foolish constancy. Chorus — Come then to me ! And sigh no more for one love lost ! I have a thousand Cupids here Shall recompense with better cheer Thy misspent labours and thy bitter cost. Chorus — Come then to me ! RUTTER 123 H MARRIAGE HYMN YMEN ! God of marriage bed ! Be thou ever honoured : Thou whose torch's purer light Death's sad tapers did affright, And instead of funeral fires Kindled lovers' chaste desires : May their love Ever prove True and constant ; let not age Know their youthful heat to assuage ! Maids ! prepare the genial bed : Then come, Night ! and hide that red Which from her cheeks his heart does burn. Till the envious Day return And the lusty bridegroom say — I have chased her fears away, And instead Of virginhed Given her a greater good, Perfe(5lion and womanhood. RICHARD CRASHAW WISHES TO HIS SUPPOSED MISTRESS WHOE'ER she be That not impossible She That shall command my heart and me ; Where'er she lie, Lock'd up from mortal eye, In shady leaves of destiny : Till that ripe Birth Of studied Fate stand forth And teach her fair steps tread our earth ; Till that Divine Idea take a shrine Of crystal flesh, through which to shine : Meet her, my Wishes ! Bespeak her to my blisses, And be you call'd my absent kisses. — I wish her beauty That owes not all its duty To gaudy tire or glistering shoe-tye, — Something more than Taffeta or tissue can, Or rampant feather or rich fan, — CRASH AW 125 More than the spoil Of shop, or silkworm's toil, Or a bought blush, or a set smile ; A face that 's best By its own beauty dress'd, And can alone commend the rest, — A face made up Out of no other shop Than what Nature's white hand sets ope ; A cheek where youth And blood, with pen of truth Write what their reader sweetly ru'th, — A cheek where grows More than a morning rose, Which to no box its being owes ; Lips where all day A lover's kiss may play. Yet carry nothing thence away ; Looks that oppress Their richest tires, but dress Themselves in simple nakedness ; Eyes that displace . The neighbour diamond and outface That sun-shine by their own sweet grace ; Tresses that wear Jewels, but to declare How much themselves more precious are, — 126 CRASH AW Whose native ray- Can tame the wanton day Of gems that in their bright shades play,- Each ruby there Or pearl that dare appear, Be its own blush, be its own tear ; A well-tamed heart, For whose more noble smart Love may be long choosing a dart ; Eyes that bestow Full quivers on Love's bow. Yet pay less arrows than they owe ; Smiles that can warm The blood, yet teach a charm That chastity shall take no harm ; Blushes that been The burnish of no sin. Nor flames of aught too hot within ; Joys that confess Virtue for their Mistress, And have no other head to dress ; Fears fond, and flight, As the coy bride's when night First does the longing lover right ; Tfears quickly fled And vain, as those are shed For dying maidenhed ; CRASHAW 12 / Days that need borrow No part of their good morrow From a fore-spent night of sorrow, — Days that, in spite Of darkness, by the light Of a clear mind are day all night ; Nights sweet as they Made short by lovers' play, Yet long by the absence of the day ; Life that dares send A challenge to his end. And when it comes say — Welcome, friend ; Sidneian showers Of sweet discourse, whose powers Can crown old Winter's head with flowers ; Soft silken hours. Open suns, shady bowers ; 'Bove all, nothing within that lours ; Whate'er delight Can make Day's forehead bright Or give down to the wings of Night. In her whole frame Have Nature all the name, Art and Ornament the shame ! Her flattery Picture and poesy. Her counsel her own virtue be ! 1 28 CRASHAW I wish her store Of worth may leave her poor Of wishes ; and I wish no more. Now, if Time knows That Her whose radiant brows Weave them a garland of my vows, Her whose just bays My future hopes can raise A trophy to her present praise, Her that dares be What these lines wish to see, I seek no further it is She. 'Tis She : and here Lo I unclothe and clear My Wishes' cloudy character. May She enjoy it Whose merit dares apply it But modesty dares still deny it ! Such Worth as this is Shall fix my flying wishes, And determine them to kisses. Let her full glory. My fancies ! fly before ye ! Be you my fidlions, but Her Story ! RICHARD LOVELACE THE GRASSHOPPER To my noble friend — Mr. Charles Cotton OTHOU that swing'st upon the waving ear Of some well-filled oaten beard, Drunk every night with a delicious tear Dropp'd thee from heaven, where thou wast rear'd ! The joys of earth and air are thine entire, That with thy feet and wings dost hop and fly ; And when thy poppy works, thou dost retire To thy carved acorn-bed to lie. Up with the day, the sun thou welcomest then, Sport'st in the gilt plaits of his beams ; And all these merry days makest merry men, Thyself, and melancholy streams. But, ah ! the sickle ! golden ears are cropp'd, Ceres and Bacchus bid good-night, Sharp frosty fingers all your flowers have topp'd. And what scythes spared winds shave off quite. Poor verdant fool, and now green ice ! thy joys (Large and as lasting as thy perch of grass) Bid zis lay in 'gainst winter rains, and poise Their floods with an o'erflowing glass. 130 LOVELACE Thou best of men and friends ! we will create A genuine summer in each other's breast And, spite of this cold time and frozen fate, Thaw us a warm seat to our rest. Our sacred hearths shall burn eternally, As Vestal flames ; the North- Wind, he Shall strike his frost-stretch'd wings, dissolve, and fly This ^tna in epitome. Dropjjing December shall come weeping in, Bewail the usurping of his reign ; But, when in showers of old Greek we begin, Shall cry he hath his crown again. Night, as clear Hesper, shall our tapers whip From the light casements where we play, And the dark hag from her black mantle strip, And stick there everlasting day. Thus richer than untempted kings are we That, asking nothing, nothing need. Though lord of all that seas embrace, yet he That wants himself is poor indeed. •o- SIR EDWARD SHERBURNE THE HEABT-MAGNET SHALL I, hopeless, then pursue A fair shadow that still flies me ? Shall I still adore and woo A proud heart that does despise me ? I a constant love may so, But, alas ! a fruitless show. Shall I by the erring light Of two crossing stars still sail, That do shine, but shine in spite. Not to guide but make me fail ? I a wandering course may steer, But the harbour ne'er come near. Whilst these thoughts my soul possess Reason passion would o'ersway, Bidding me my flames suppress Or divert some other way : But what reason would pursue, That my heart runs counter to. So a pilot, bent to make Search for some unfound-out land. T32 SHERBURNE Does with him the magnet take, Sailing to the unknown strand : But that, steer which way he will, To the loved North points still. FALSE LYCORIS T ATELY, by clear Thames, his side, -* — ' Fair Lycoris I espied, With the pen of her white hand These words printing on the sand : N'o?te Lycoris doth approve But Mh'tillo for her love. Ah, false Nymph ! those words were fit In sand only to be writ : For the quickly rising streams /^ Of Oblivion and the Thames In a little moment's stay From the shore Avash'd clean away What thy hand had there impress'd, And Mirtillo from thy breast. ANDREW MARVELL THE PICTURE OF LITTLE T. C. In a prospect of flowers. SEE ! with what simplicity This Nymph begins her golden days. In the green grass she loves to lie, And there with her fair aspeft tames The wilder flowers, and gives them names ; But only with the roses plays, And them does tell What colour best becomes them, and what smell. Who can foretell for what higli cause • This Darling of the Gods was born ? Yet this is She whose chaster laws The wanton Love shall one day fear, And, under her command severe, See his bow broke and ensigns torn. Happy who can Appease this virtuous enemy of man ! O then let me in time compound ; And parley with those conquering eyes Ere they have tried their force to wound. Ere with their glancing wheels they drive 134 MARVELL In triumph over hearts that strive, And them that yield but more despise ! Let me be laid Where I may see the glories from some shade ! Meantime, whilst every verdant thing Itself does at thy beauty charm. Reform the errors of the Spring ! Make that the tulips may have share Of sweetness, seeing they are fair ; And roses of their thorns disarm ; But most procure That violets may a longer age endure ! But O, Young Beauty of the Woods ! Whom Nature courts with fruits and flowers, Gather the flowers, but spare the buds ! Lest Flora, angry at thy crime — To kill her infants in their prime, Should quickly make the example yours ; And, ere we see, Nip in the blossom all our hopes in thee. A DEFINITION OF LOVE M Y LOVE is of a birth as rare As 'tis for object strange and high It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility. Magnanimous Despair alone Could show me so divine a thing, MARVELL 135 Where feeble Hope could ne'er have flown But vainly flapp'd its tinsel wing. And yet I quickly might arrive Where my extended soul is fix'd : But Fate does iron wedges drive, And always crowds itself betwixt. For Fate with jealous eye doth see Two perfe6l loves, nor lets them close : Their union would her ruin be And her tyrannic power depose. And therefore her decrees of steel Us as the distant poles have placed — Though Love's whole world on us doth wheel, Not by themselves to be embraced : Unless the giddy heaven fall And earth some new convulsion tear, And, us to join, the world should all Be cramp'd into a planisphere. As Hnes, so loves oblique may well Themselves in every angle greet : But ours, so truly parallel, Though infinite can never meet. Therefore the love which us doth bind, But Fate so enviously debars, Is the conjunction of the mind And opposition of the stars. 1 36 MARVELL CLORINDA AND DAMON CLORINDA AMON ! come drive thy flocks this way ! DAMON No ! 'Tis too late they went astray. CLORINDA >^ ^ I have a grassy 'scutcheon spied, vX^ - Where Flora blazons all her pride : -« D The grass I aim to feast thy sheep, The flowers I for thy temples keep. DAMON Grass withers and the flowers too fade. CLORINDA Seize the short joys then ere they vade Seest thou that unfrequented cave ? DAMON That den ,? CLORINDA ^ Love 's shrine. %l ^ DAMON *^^ ^ But virtue's grave, CLORINDA In whose cool bosom we may lie. Safe from the sun. DAMON Not heaven's eye. MARVELL 137 CLORINDA --^ Near this a fountain's liquid bell -v- Tinkles within the concave shell. v DAMON "^ Might a soul bathe there and be clean, Or slake its drought? CLORINDA ^^ ^ What is 't you mean ? DAMON Clorinda ! pastures, caves, and springs, — These once had been enticing things. CLORINDA And what late change ? DAMON The other day Pan met me. CLORINDA What did great Pan say? DAMON Words that transcend poor shepherd's skill ; But he e'er since my songs does fill, And his name swells my slender oat. CLORINDA Sweet must Pan sound in Damon's note. DAMON Clorinda's voice might make it sweet. 138 MARVELL CLORINDA Who would not in Pan's praises meet ? CHORUS Of Pan the flowery pastures sing ! Caves echo, and the fountains ring. Sing then while he doth us inspire ! For all the world is our Pan's quire. THE FAIR SINGER TO make a final conquest of all me Love did compose so sweet an enemy, In whom both beauties to my death agree, Joining themselves in fatal harmony : That while she with her eyes my heart doth bind She wdth her voice might captivate my mind. I could have fled from One but singly fair. — My disentangled soul itself might save. Breaking the curled trammels of her hair : But how should I avoid to be her slave, Whose subtle art invisibly can wreathe My fetters of the very air I breathe ? It had been easy fighting in some plain Where victory might hang in equal choice. But all resistance against her is vain Who has the advantage both of eyes and voice And all my forces needs must be undone, She having gained both the wind and sun. MARVELL 139 MAKING HAY-ROPES AMETAS n-^HINK'ST THOU that this love can stand, ^ Whilst thou still dost say me Nay ? Love unpaid does soon disband : Love binds love, as hay binds hay. THESTYLIS Think'st thou that this rope would twine If we both should turn one way? Where both parties so combine Neither love will twist nor hay. AMETAS Thus you vain excuses find, Which yourself and us delay : And love ties a woman's mind Looser than with ropes of hay. THESTYLIS What you can not constant hope Must be taken as you may. AMETAS Then let 's both lay by our rope. And go kiss within the hay ! ALEXANDER BROME PALINODE TVT O MORE, no more of this, I vow ! -^ ^ 'Tis time to leave this fooling now. Which few but fools call wit. There was a time when I begun, And now 'tis time I should have done And meddle no more with it : He physic's use doth quite mistake, Who physic takes for physic's sake. My heat of youth, and love, and pride, Did swell me with their strong spring-tide, Inspired my brain and blood ; And made me then converse with toys Which are call'd Muses by the boys, And dabble in their flood. I was persuaded in those days There was no crown like love and bays. But now my youth and pride are gone. And age and cares come creeping on, And business checks mv love : What need I take a needless toil To spend my labour, time, and oil, Since no design can move? For now the cause is ta'en away What reason is 't the effedl should stay? BROME 141 'Tis but a folly now for me To spend my time and industry About such useless wit : For when I think I have done well, I see men laugh, but can not tell Where 't be at me or it. Great madness 'tis to be a drudge. When those that can not write dare judge. Besides the danger that ensu'th To him that speaks or writes the truth, The premium is so small : To be call'd Poet and wear bays, And fa6lor turn of songs and plays, — This is no wit at all. Wit only good to sport and sing Is a needless and an endless thing. Give me the wit that can't speak sense, Nor read it but in 's own defence. Ne'er learn'd but of his Gran'am ! He that can buy and sell and cheat May quickly make a shift to get His thousand pound /i?r annum ; And purchase without more ado The poems, and the poet too. RICHARD BROME BEGGARS' SONG COME ! COME AWAY ! the Spring, By every bird that can but sing Or chirp a note, doth now invite Us forth to taste of his delight. In field, in grove, on hill, in dale ; But above all the nightingale. Who in her sweetness strives to outdo The loudness of the hoarse cuckoo. Cuckoo ! cries he ; jug, jug, jug ! sings she From bush to bush, from tree to tree. Why in one place then tarry we ? Come away ! Why do we stay ? We have no debt or rent to pay ; No bargains or accompts to make ; Nor land nor lease, to let or take. Or if we had, should that remore us When all the world 's our own before us, And where we pass and make resort It is our kingdom and our court. ^ Cuckoo ! cries he ; jug, jug, jug ! sings she From bush to bush, from tree to tree. Why in one place then tarry we ? HENRY VAUGHAN EPITHALAMIUM TO THE BEST AND MOST ACCOMPLISHED COUPLE — BLESSINGS as rich and fragrant crown your heads As the mild heaven on roses sheds When at their cheeks Hke pearls they wear The clouds that court them in a tear ! And may they be fed from above By Him which first ordain'd your love ! Fresh as the Hours may all your pleasures be, x^nd healthful as Eternity ! Sweet as the flowers' first breath, and close As the unseen spreadings of the Rose When she unfolds her curtain'd head And makes her bosom the Sun's bed ! Soft as yourselves run your whole lives, and clear As your own glass, or what shines there ! Smooth as Heaven's face, and bright as he When without mask or tiffany, In all your time not one jar meet, — But peace as silent as his feet ! Like the Day's warmth may all your comforts be, Untoil'd for and serene as he. 144 VAUGHAN Yet free and full as is that sheaf Of sunbeams gilding every leaf When now the tyrant heat expires And his cool'd locks breathe milder fires ! And as the parcel'd glories he doth shed Are the fair issues of his head, Which, ne'er so distant, ai-e soon known By the heat and lustre for his o\vn, So may each branch of yours we see Your copies and our wonders be ! And when no more on earth you may remain, Invited hence to heaven again, Then may your virtuous virgin-flames Shine in those heirs of your fair names. And teach the world that mystery — Yourselves in your posterity ! So you to both worlds shall rich presents bring ; And, gather'd up to heaven, leave here a Spring. THOMAS STANLEY I SONG PRITHEE let my heart alone ! Since now 'tis raised above thee, Not all the beauty thou dost own Again can make me love thee. He that was shipwreck'd once before By such a Syren's call, And yet negledls to shun that shore, Deserves his second fall. Each flattering kiss, each tempting smile, Thou dost in vain bestow, Some other lovers might beguile Who not thy falsehood know. But I am proof against all art : No vows shall e'er persuade me Twice to present a wounded heart To her that hath betray'd me. Could I again be brought to love Thy form, though more divine, I might thy scorn as justly move As now thou sufferest mine. 146 STANLEY NIGHT CHARISSA — What if Night Should betray us, and reveal To the light All the pleasures that we steal? Philocharis — Fairest ! we Safely may this fear despise : How can She See our actions, who wants eyes? Charissa — Each dim star. And the clearer lights, we know. Night's eyes are : They were bhnd that thought her so. Philocharis — Those pale fires Only burn to yield a light To our desires ; And, though blind, to give us sight. Charissa — By this shade. That surrounds us, might our flame Be betray'd, And the day disclose its name. Philocharis — Dearest Fair ! These dark witnesses we find Silent are : Night is dumb as well as blind. STANLEY 147 A KISS I BEGG'D, and thou didst join Thy lips to mine ; Then, as afraid, snatch back their treasure And mock my pleasure. Again ! my Dearest ! — for in this Thou only gavest desire, and not a kiss. JOHN HALL EPITAPH On a Gentleman and his Wife -who died both -within a very few days. THRICE happy pair ! who had and have Living one bed, now dead one grave : Whose love being equal, neither could A life unequal wish to hold ; But left a question, whether one Did follow 'cause her mate was gone. Or the other went before to stay Till that his fellow came away : So that one pious tear now must Besprinkle either parent's dust, And two gi-eat sorrows jointly run And close into a larger one. Or rather turn to joy, to see The burial but the wedding be. R. FLETCHER AN EPITAPH ON HIS DECEASED FRIEND. IT ERE LIES the ruin'd Cabinet ^ -'- Of a rich Soul more highly set : The dross and refuse of a Mind Too glorious to be here confined. Earth for a while bespoke his stay, Only to bait, and so away : So that what here he doated on Was merely accommodation. Not that his active soul could be At home but in eternity. Yet, while he bless 'd us with the rays Of his short-continued days, Each minute had its weight of worth, Each pregnant hour some star brought forth. So, while he travel'd here beneath. He lived when others only breathe : For not a sand of time slipp'd by Without its adlion sweet as high. So good, so peaceable, so bless'd, — Angels alone can speak the rest. I RICHARD FLECKNOE CHLOBIS /^HLORIS ! if ere May be done ^— ^ You but offer to be gone, Flowers will wither, green will fade. Nothing fresh nor gay be had. Farewell pleasure ! farewell Spring ! Farewell every sweeter thing ! The Year will pine away and mourn, And Winter instantly return. But, if you vouchsafe to stay Only till the end of May, Take it upon Flora's word. Never sweeter Spring was tow'rd, Never was Favonian wind More propitiously inclined. Never was in heaven nor earth Promised more profuser mirth. Such sweet force your presence has To bring a joy to every place ; Such a virtue has your sight, All are cheer'd and gladded by 't ; Such a freshness as does bring Along with it perpetual Spring ; Such a gaiety the while. As makes both heaven and earth to smile. JOHN BULTEEL SOI^G I GRANT your eyes are far more bright Than ever was unclouded light ; And that love in your charming voice As much of reason finds for choice : Yet if you hate when I adore, To do the like I find much more. A voice would move all but a stone Without kind love shall find me one ; And eyes the brightest ever shined On me have power but as they 're kind You must, to throw down all defence. As much my reason please as sense. I clearly know, say what you will. To read my heart you want the skill ; And of this 'tis a pregnant sign, Since you see not these truths of mine : Which if you did, you would despair, Without you loved, to form one there. PART II— AUTHORS UNKNOWN FROM TOTTEL'S MISCELLANY THE MEAN ESTATE H AFP IE ST I F right be rackt and over-run, And power take part with open \vrong, If fear by force do yield too soon : The lack is like to last too long. If God for goods shall be unplaced, If right for riches lose his shape, If world for wisdom be embraced : The guess is great much hurt may hap. Among good things, I prove and find. The quiet life doth most abound : And sure to the contented mind There is no riches may be found. For riches hates to be content ; Rule enemy is to quietness ; Power is most part impatient, And seldom likes to live in peace 154 tottel's miscellany I heard a herdman once compare : That quiet nights he had more slept, And had more merry days' to spare, Than he which own'd the beasts he kept. I would not have it thought hereby The dolphin swim I mean to teach ; Nor yet to learn the falcon fly : I row not so far past my reach. But as my part above the rest Is well to wish and well to will. So till my breath shall fail my breast I will not cease to wish you still. HE WISHETH DEATH Upon consideration of the state of this life. ' I 'HE longer hfe, the more offence ; ^ The more offence, the greater pain ; The greater pain, the less defence ; The less defence, the lesser gain : The loss of gain long ill doth try : Wherefore come death, and let me die ! The shorter life, less count I find ; The less account, the sooner made ; The count soon made, the merrier mind ; The merry mind doth thought evade : Short life in truth this thing doth try : Wherefore come death, and let me die ! Come, gentle death ! the ebb of care ; The ebb of care, the flood of life ; tottel's miscellany 155 The flood of life, the joyful fare ; The joyful fare, the end of strife : The end of strife, that thing wish I : Wherefore come death, and let me die ! LOVE'S DISDAINEB The lover that once disdained Love is now stibject^ being catight in his snare. T this my song give ear who Hst, And mine intent judge as you will ! The time is come that I have miss'd The thing whereon I hoped still ; And from the top of all my trust Mishap hath thrown me in the dust. The time hath been, and that of late, My heart (and I) might leap at large. And was not shut within the gate Of love's desire ; nor took no charge Of any thing that did pertain As touching love in any pain ; My thought was free, my heart was light ; I marked not who lost, who saught ; I play'd by day, I slept by night ; I forced not who wept, who laught : My thought from all such things was free. And I myself at hberty. 1 took no heed to taunts nor toys. As lief to see them frown as smile ; 156 tottel's miscellany Where fortune laught I scorn'd their joys, I found then- frauds and every wile : And to myself ofttimes I smiled To see how love had them beguiled. Thus in the net of my conceit I masked still among the sort Of such as fed upon the bait That Cupid laid for his disport ; And ever as I saw them caught I them beheld and thereat laught. Till at the length when Cupid spied My scornful will, and spiteful use, And how I past not who was tied So that myself might still live loose, He set himself to lie in wait : And in my way he threw a bait. Such one as Nature never made, I dare well say, save she alone : Such one she was as would invade A heart more hard than marble stone : Such one she is, I know it right, — Her Nature made to show her might. Then as a man even in a maze, Whose use of reason is away, So I began to stare and gaze ; And suddenly, without delay, Or ever I had wit to look, I swallow'd up both bait and hook. tottel's miscellany 157 I Which daily grieves me more and more By sundry sorts of careful woe ; And none alive may salve the sore But only she that hurt me so : In whom my life doth now consist, To save or slay me as she list. But seeing now that I am caught And bound so fast 1 can not flee, Be ye by mine ensample taught, That in your fancies feel you free ! Despise not them that lovers are ! Lest you be caught within his snare. WHERE GOOD WILL IS SOniE PROOF WILL APPEAR T is no fire that gives no heat, Though it appear never so hot ; And they that run and can not sweat Are very lean and dry, God wot. A perfedt leech applieth his wits To gather herbs of all degrees ; And fevers with their fervent fits Be cured with their contraries. New wine will search to find a vent. Although the cask be never so strong ; And wit will walk when will is bent, Although the way be never so long. The rabbits run under the rocks ; The snails do climb the highest towers ; 158 tottel's miscellany Gunpowder cleaves the sturdy blocks ; A fervent will all thing devours. When wit with will, and diligent, Apply themselves and match as mates, There can no want of resident From force defend the castle gates. Forgetfulness makes little haste ; And sloth delights to lie full soft ; That telleth the deaf, his tale doth waste ; And is full dry, that craves full oft. PROMISE OF A CONSTANT LOVER AS laurel leaves that cease not to be green^ I'^om parching sun, nor yet from winter's threat, As harden'd oak that fear'th no sword so keen. As flint for tool in t\vain that will not fret, — As fast as rock or pillar surely set, — So fast am I to you, and aye have been. Assuredly whom I can not forget. For joy, for pain, for torment, nor for tene, For loss, for gain, for frowning, nor for let : But ever one, — yea ! both in calm and blast, — Your faithful friend, and will be to my last. TOTTEL S MISCELLANY 1 59 EACH THING HURT OF ITSELF WHY fearest thou thy outward foe, When thou thyself thy harm dost feed ? Of grief, or hurt, of pain, or woe, Witliin each thing is sown a seed. 'O So fine was never yet the cloth, No smith so hard his iron did beat, But the one consumed was with moth, The other with canker all to fret. The knotty oak and wainscoat old Within doth eat the silly worm : Even so a mind in envy roU'd Always within itself doth bum. Thus every thing that Nature wrought Within itself his hurt doth bear : No outward harm need to be sought Whose enemies be within so near. OF A BOSEMABY-BBANCH SENT O UCH green to me as you have sent, ^^ Such green to you I send again : A flowering heart that will not faint For dread of hope or loss of gain : A steadfast thought all wholly bent So that he may your grace obtain. As you by proof have always seen. To live your own, and always gi'een. i6o tottel's miscellany OF THE CHOICE OF A WIFE ' I 'HE flickering fame that flieth from ear to ear, -^ And aye her strength increaseth with her flight, Gives first the cause why men dehght to hear Of those whom she doth note for beauty bright : And with this fame that flieth on so fast Fancy doth hie when reason makes no haste. And yet, not so content, they wish to espy And thereby know if fame have said aright : More trusting to the trial of their eye Than to the bruit that goes of any wight : Wise in that point that lightly will not leave, Unwise to seek that may them after grieve. Who knoweth not how sight may love allure And kindle in the heart a hot desire. The eye to work that fame could not procure : Of greater cause there cometh hotter fire : For, ere he weet, himself he feeleth warm. The fame and eye the causers of his harm. Let fame not make her known whom I shall know, Nor yet mine eye, therein to be my guide : Sufificeth me that virtue in her grow Whose simple life her father's walls do hide. Content with this, I leave the rest to go : And in such choice shall stand my wealth and woe. TOTTEL'S MISCELLANY l6l OTHERS PBEFERBED SOME men would think of right to have For their true meaning some reward : But while that I do cry and crave, I see that other be preferr'd. I gape for that I am debarr'd ; I fare as doth the hound at hatch : The worse I speed, the longer watch. My wasteful will is tried by trust, My fond fancy is mine abuse ; For that I would refrain my lust, — For mine avail I can not choose : A will, and yet no power to use ; A will, — no will by reason just, Since my will is at others' must. They eat the honey, I hold the hive ; I sow the seed, they reap the com ; I waste, they win ; I draw, they drive ; Theirs is the thank, mine is the scorn ; I seek, they speed, in waste my wind is worn I gape, they get, and greedily I snatch. Till worse I speed, the longer watch. I fast, they feed ; they drink, I thirst ; They laugh, I wail ; they joy, I mourn ; They gain, I lose, I have the worst ; They whole, I sick ; they cold, I burn ; They leap, I lie ; they sleep, I toss and turn ; l62 TOTTEL'S MISCELLANY I would, they may ; I crave, they have at will That hclpeth them (lo ! cruelty) doth me kill. NO JOY HAVE I IVr O JOY HAVE I, but live in heaviness : ^ ^ My Dame of price bereft by Fortune's cruelness, My hap is turned to unhappiness : Unhappy I am unless I find relesse. My pastime past, my youth-like years are gone, My months of mirth, my glistering days of gladsomeness, My times of triumph turned into moan : Unhappy I am unless I find relesse. My wonted wind to chaunt my cheerful chance Doth sigh that song sometime the ballad of my lesse ; My sobs my sore and sorrow do advance : Unhappy I am unless I find relesse. I mourn my mirth for grief that it is gone, — I mourn my mirth whereof my musing mindfulness Is ground of greater grief that grows thereon : Unhappy I am unless I find relesse. No joy have I : for Fortune frowardly Hath bent her brows, hath put her hand to cruelness, Hath wrest my Dame, constrained me to cry — Unhappy I am unless I find relesse. \ TOTTEL'S MISCELLANY 163 OF THE GOLDEN MEAN ' I ^HE wisest way thy boat in wave and wind to guie ^ Is neither still the trade of middle stream to try Ne, warily shunning wreck by weather, aye too nigh To press upon the perilous shore. Both cleanly flees he filth, ne wonnes a wretched wight In carlish coat, and careful court (aye thrall to spite) With port of proud estate he leaves, who doth delight Of golden mean to hold the lore. Storms rifest rend the sturdy stout pine-apple tree : Of lofty ruing towers the falls the feller be ; Most fierce doth lightning light where farthest we do see The hills, the valley to forsake. Well furnish'd breast to bide each chance's changeful cheer In woe hath cheerful hope, in weal hath warefull fear : One self Jove winter makes with loathful looks appear That can by course the same aslake. What if into mishap the case now casten be. It forceth not such form of luck to last to thee : Not alway bent is Phrebus' bow ; his harp and he Ceased silver sound sometime doth raise. In hardest hap use help of hardy hopeful heart ; Seem bold, to bear the brunt of fortune overthwart ; Eke wisely, when fore-wind to full breathes on thy part, 'Suage swelling sail, and doubt decays ! 164 TOTTEL'S MISCELLANY THE PRAISE OF A TRUE FRIEND ^ A THOSO that wisely weighs the profit and the price * V Of things wherein dehght by worth is wont to rise, Shall find no jewel is so rich ne yet so rare That with the firiendly heart in value may compare. What other wealth to man by fortune may befall, But Fortune's changed cheer may reave a man of all ? A friend no wrack of wealth, no cruel cause of woe, Can cause his friendly faith unfriendly to forego. If Fortune friendly fawn, and lend thee wealthy store. Thy friend's conjoined joy doth make thy joy the more ; If frowardly she frown, and drive thee to distress. His aid relieves thy ruth and makes thy sorrow less. Thus Fortune's pleasant fruits by friends increased be ; The bitter, sharp, and sour, by friends allay'd to thee : That when thou dost rejoice, then doubled is thy joy ; And eke in cause of care the less is thy annoy. Aloft if thou dost live, as one appointed here A stately part on stage of worldly state to bear, Thy friend, as only free from fraud, will thee advise To rest within the rule of mean, as do the wise. He seeketh to foresee the peril of thy fall ; He findeth out thy faults, and warns thee of them all ; Thee, not thy luck, he loves : whatever be thy case, He is thy faithful friend, and thee he doth embrace. TOTTEL'S MISCELLANY 1 65 If churlish cheer of chance have tlirown thee into tlirall, And that thy need ask aid for to reheve thy fall, In him thou secret trust assured art to have, And succour, not to seek, before that thou can crave. Thus is thy friend to thee the comfort of thy pain. The stayer of thy state, the doubler of thy gain ; In wealth and woe thy friend, an other self to thee : Such man to man a God, the proverb saith to be. x'\s wealth will bring thee friends in lowering woe to prove. So woe shall yield thee friends in laughing wealth to love : With wisdom choose thy friend ; — with virtue him retain 1 Let virtue be the ground ! So shall it not be vain. FROM THE PARADISE OF DAINTY DEVICES LIFE'S STAY M an'' s flitting life finds surest stay Where sacred Virtue beareth sway. ' I ^HE sturdy rock, for all his strength, ^ By raging seas is rent in twain ; The marble stone is pierced at length With little drops of drizzling rain ; The ox doth yield unto the yoke ; The steel obeys the hammer-stroke ; 1 66 PARADISE OF DAINTY DEVICES The stately stag, that seems so stout, By yelping hounds at bay is set ; The swiftest bird that flies about Is caught at length in fowler's net ; The greatest fish in deepest brook Is soon deceived with subtle hook ; Yea, man himself, unto whose will All things are bounden to obey, For all his wit and worthy skill Doth fade at length and fall away. There is no thing but Time doth waste ; The heavens, the earth, consume at last. But Virtue sits, triumphing still, Upon the throne of glorious fame : Though spiteful Death man's body kill, Yet hurts he not his virtuous name. By life or death, whatso betides, The state of Virtue never slides. THE LOST FRIEND ^ A /"HY should I longer long to live ^ ^ In this disease of fantasy? Since Fortune doth not cease to give Things to my mind most contrary ; And at my joys doth lour and frown, Till she hath turn'd them upside down. A friend I had, to me most dear, And of long time, faithful and just, — PARADISE OF DAINTY DEVICES 167 There was no one my heart so near, Nor one in whom I had more trust, — Whom now of late, without cause why, Fortune hath made my enemy. The grass, methinks, should grow in sky. The stars unto the earth cleave fast, The water-stream should pass awry. The winds should leave their strength of blast. The sun and moon by one assent Should both forsake the firmament. The fish in air should fly with fin, The fowls in flood should bring forth fry. All things, methinks, should first begin To take their course unnaturally, Afore my friend should alter so, Without a cause to be my foe. But such is Fortune's hate, I say. Such is her will on me to wreak, Such spite she hath at me alway. And ceaseth not my heart to break : With such despite of cruelty. Wherefore then longer live should I ? l68 PARADISE OF DAINTY DEVICES MAY "T A THEN MAY is in his prime, ^ ' Then may each heart rejoice ; When May bedecks each branch with green. Each bird strains forth his voice. The hvely sap creeps up Into the blooming thorn ; The flowers, which cold in prison kept, Now laugh the frost to scorn. All Nature's imps triumph Whiles joyful May doth last ; When May is gone, of all the year The pleasant time is past. May makes the cheerful hue ; May breeds and brings new blood ; May marcheth throughout every limb ; May makes the merry mood. May pricketh tender hearts Their warbling notes to tune ; — Full strange it is, yet some, we see, Do make their May in June. Thus things are strangely Avrought Whiles joyful May cloth last : Take May in time ! when May Is gone, The pleasant time is past. PARADISE OF DAINTY DEVICES 169 All ye that live on earth, And have your May at will, Rejoice in May, as I do now, And use your May with skill ! Use May while that you may. For May hath but his time ! When all the fruit is gone it is Too late the tree to climb. Your liking and your lust Is fresh whiles May doth last : When May is gone, of all the year The pleasant time is past. FROM BYRD'S SET SONGS BIGHT CABEFULNJESS r^ ARE for thy soul as thing of greatest price, ^^ Made to the end to taste of power divine, Devoid of guilt, abhorring sin and vice, Apt by God's grace to virtue to incline ! Care for it so that by thy reckless train It be not brought to taste eternal pain ! Care for thy corpse, but chiefly for soul's sake ! Cut ofi" excess ! sustaining food is best. 170 BYRD'S SET SONGS To vanquish pride, but comely clothing take ! Seek after skill ! deep ignorance detest ! Care so (I say) the flesh to feed and clothe, That thou harm not thy soul and body both ! Care for the world, to do thy body right ! Rack not thy wit to win l^y wicked ways ! Seek not to oppress the weak by wrongful might ! To pay thy due do banish all delays ! Care to dispend according to thy store ; And in like sort be mindful of the poor ! Care for thy soul, as for thy chiefest stay ! Care for the body, lor the soul's avail ! Care for the world, for body's help alvvay ! Care yet but so as virtue may prevail ! Care in such sort that thou beware of this — Care keep thee not from heaven and heavenly bliss LOVE'S ARROWS The golden and leaden arrows of Love TT^ROM Citheron the warlike Boy is fled, ^ And smihng sits upon a Virgin's lap, — Thereby to train poor misers to the trap, Whom Beauty draws with fancy to be fed : And when Desire with eager looks is led. Then from her eyes The arrow flies, Feather'd with flame, arm'd with a golden head. BYRD'S SET SONGS I7I Her careless thoughts are freed of that flame Wherewith her thralls are scorched to the heart : If Love would so, would God the enchanting dart Might once return and burn from whence it came ! Not to deface of Beauty's work the frame, But by rebound It might be found What secret smart I suffer by the same. If Love be just, then just is my desire ; And if unjust, why is he call'd a God? O god, O god, O Just ! reserve thy rod To chasten those that from thy laws retire ! But choose aright (good Love ! I thee require). The golden head, Not that of lead ! Her heart is frost and must dissolve by fire. I LOVE'S QUALITIES S LOVE a boy,— what means he then to strike ? Or is he blind, — why will he be a guide? Is he a man, — why doth he hurt his like ? Is he a god, — why doth he men deride ? No one of these, but one compaft of all : A wilful boy, a man still dealing blows. Of purpose blind to lead men to their thrall, A god that rules unruly — God, he knows. Boy ! pity me that am a child again ; Blind, be no more my guide to make me stray : 1/2 BYRD'S SET SONGS Man ! use thy might to force away my pain ; God ! do me good and lead me to my way ; And if thou beest a power to me unlmown, Power of my life ! let here thy grace be shown. CUPID'S DELIVERANCE UPON a summer's day Love went to swim, And cast himself into a sea of tears ; The clouds call'd in their light, and heaven wax'd dim, And sighs did raise a tempest, causing fears. The naked boy could not so wield his arms But that the waves were masters of his might, And threaten'd him to work far greater harms If he devised not to escape by flight. Then for a boat his quiver stood in stead, His bow unbent did serve him for a mast, Whereby to sail his cloth of vayle he spread, His shafts for oars on either board he cast : From shipwreck safe this wag got thus to shore. And sware to bathe in lovers' tears no more. THE HERD-MAN'S HAPPY LIFE WHAT pleasure have great princes More dainty to their choice Than herd-men wild who, careless, In quiet life rejoice And, fickle Fortune scorning. Sing sweet in summer morning? BYRD'S SET SONGS 1/3 Their dealings, plain and rightful, Are void of all deceit ; They never know how spiteful It is to kneel and wait On favourite presumptuous Whose pride is vain and sumptuous. All day their flocks each tendeth, At night they take their rest : More quiet than who sendeth His ship into the East, Where gold and pearl are plenty, But getting very dainty. For lawyers and their pleading, They esteem it not a straw ; They think that honest meaning Is of itself a law : Where conscience judgeth plainly They spend no money vainly. O, happy who thus liveth, Not caring much for gold, With clothing that sufficeth To keep him from the cold : Though poor and plain his diet, Yet merry it is and quiet. 174 BYRD'S SET SONGS PHIL ON THE SHEPHERD HIS SONG WHILE that the sun with his beams hot Scorched the fruits in vale and mountain, Philon, the shepherd, late forgot Sitting beside a crystal fountain, In shadow of a green oak tree. Upon his pipe this song play'd he : Adieu, Love ! adieu. Love ! untrue Love ! Untrue Love, untrue Love ! adieu. Love ! Your mind is light, soon lost for a new love. So long as I was in your sight, I was your heart, your soul, your treasure ; And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd, Burning in flames beyond all measure. Three days endured your love for me. And it was lost in other three. Adieu, Love ! adieu. Love ! untrue Love ! Untrue Love, untrue Love ! adieu, Love ! Your mind is light, soon lost for a new love. Another shepherd you did see, To whom your heart was soon enchained ; Full soon your love was leapt from me, Full soon my place he had obtained : Soon came a third your love to win ; And we were out, and he was in. Adieu, Love ! adieu. Love ! untrue Love ! Untrue Love ! untrue Love ! adieu, Love ! Your mind is light, soon lost for a new love. BYRD'S SET SONGS 1/5 Sure, you have made me passing glad That you your mind so soon removed, Before that I the leisure had To choose you for my best-beloved : For all my love was past and done Two days before it was begun. Adieu, Love ! adieu, Love ! untrue Love ! Untrue Love, untrue Love ! adifeu. Love ! Your mind is light, soon lost for a new love. BROWN IS MY LOVE ROWN is my Love, but graceful : And each renowned whiteness Match'd with her lovely brown loseth its brightness. B Fair is my Love, but scornful : Yet have I seen despised White dainty lilies, and sad flowers well prized. CYNTHIA ig CYNTHIA, thy song and chauntins So strange a flame in gentle hearts awaketh That every cold desire wanton Love maketh Sounds to thy praise and vaunting, Of Syrens most commended That with delightful tunes for praise contended ! For, when thou sweetly soundest, Thou neither kill'st nor woundest. But dost revive a number Of bodies buried in perpetual slumber. FROM THE PHCENIX NEST THE ANATOMY OF LOVE "K T OW what is love ? I pray thee tell. -*^ ^ It is that fountain and that well Where pleasure and repentance dwell : It is perhaps that sauncing bell That tolls all in to heaven or hell : And this is love, as I hear tell. Yet, what is love ? I pray thee say. It is a work on holiday : It is December match'd with May : When lusty bloods, in fresh array, Hear ten months after of the play : And this is love, as I hear say. Yet, what is love ? I pray thee sain. It is a sunshine mix'd with rain : It is a toothache, or like pain : It is a game where none doth gain : The lass saith Oh ! and would full fain And this is love, as I hear sain. Yet, what is love ? I pray thee say. It is a Yea, it is a Nay : A pretty kind of sporting fray : It is a thing will soon away : Then take the vantage while you may ! And this is love, as I hear say. PHCENIX NEST 1/7 Yet, what is love ? I pray thee show. A thing that creeps, it can not go : A prize that passeth to and fro : A thing for me, a thing for mo : And he that proves must find it so : And this is love, sweet friend ! I trow. TO NIGHT O NIGHT ! O jealous Night ! repugnant to my measures ; O Night so long desired, yet cross to my content ! There 's none but only thou that can perform my pleasures, Yet none but only thou that hindereth my intent. Thy beams, thy spiteful beams, thy lamps that burn too brightly. Discover all my trains and naked lay my drifts : That night by night I hope, yet fails my purpose nightly. Thy envious glaring gleam defeateth so my shifts. Sweet Night ! withhold thy beams, withhold them till to-morrow. Whose joys in lack so long a hell of torment breeds ; Sweet Night, sweet gentle Night ! do not prolong my sorrow ! Desire is guide to me, and love no loadstar needs. Let sailors gaze on stars and moon so freshly shining ; Let them that miss the way be guided by the light : I know my Lady's bower, there needs no more divining. 178 PHCENIX NEST Affedion sees in dark, and love hath eyes by night. Dame Cynthia ! couch awhile, hold in thy horns from shining, And glad not louring Night with thy too glorious rays ; But be she dim and dark, tempestuous and repining, That in her spite my sport may work thy endless praise. And when my will is wrought, then Cynthia ! shine, good lady ! All other nights and days, in honour of that night. That happy heavenly night, that night so dark and shady. Wherein my love had eyes that lighted my delight ! SET 3IE WHERE PHCEBUS SET ME where Phoebus' heat the flowers slayeth, Or where continual snow withstands his forces ; Set me where he his temperate rays displayeth, Or where he comes, or where he never courses ! Set me in Fortune's grace, or else discharged ; In sweet and pleasant air, or dark and glooming ; Where days and nights are lesser or enlarged ; In years of strength, in failing age, or blooming ! Set me in heaven, or earth, or in the centre ; Low in a vale, or on a mountain placed ; Set me to danger, peril, or adventure, Graced by fame, or infamy disgraced Set me to these, or any other trial Except my Mistress' anger and denial. N^ ^'- ias>~ ^>vl^dU^'.^if^\(^ kVv,,".^ : j FROM DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS IlffS' LOVER'S DESPAIR P^LOW FORTH, abundant tears ! ^ Bedew this doleful face ; Disorder now thy hairs, That livest in such disgrace ! Ah ! death exceedeth far This life which I endure, That still keeps me in war, Who no peace can procure. I love whom I should hate ; She flies, I follow fast : Such is my bitter state, I wish no life to last. Alas ! affedlion strong To whom I must obey My reason so doth wrong As it can bear no sway. My field of flint I find, My harvest vain desire : For he that sowed wind Now reapeth storm for hire. Alas ! like flowers of spine Thy graces rosy be : l80 DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS I prick these hands of mine, For haste to gather thee. But now shall sorrow slake ; I yield to mortal strife : To die thus for thy sake Shall honour all my life. LOVE AND SORROW T OVE is a spirit high presuming, -* — ' That falleth oft ere he sit fast ; Care is a sorrow long consuming, Which yet doth kill the heart at last ; Death is a A\Tong to life and love : And I the pains of all must prove. Words are but trifles in regarding. And pass away as puffs of wind ; Deeds are too long in their rewarding. And out of sight are out of mind : And those so little favour feed, As finds no fruit in word or deed. Truth is a thought too long in trial, And, known, but coldly entertain'd ; Love is too long in his denial, And in the end but hardly gain'd : And in the gain the sweet so small. That I must taste the sour of all. But O ! the death too long enduring, Where nothing can my pain appease ; DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS l8l And O ! the cure so long in curing, Where patient hurt hath never ease : And O ! that ever love should know The ground whereof a grief doth grow. But, heavens ! heal me from this hell ; Or let me die, and I am well. SERENADE r^OME AWAY ! come, sweet Love ! ^-^ The golden morning breaks : All the earth, all the air, Of love and pleasure speaks. Teach thine arms then to embrace, And sweet rosy lips to kiss. And mix our souls in mutual bliss : Eyes were made for beauty's grace, Viewing, ruing 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, Wing'd with sweet hopes and heavenly fire. 1 82 DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS • Come away ! come, sweet Love ! Do not in vain adorn Beauty's grace, that should rise Like to the naked Morn. Lilies on the river side And fair Cyprian flowers new-blown Desire no beauties but their own : Ornament is nurse of pride. Pleasure measures love's delight : Haste then, sweet Love ! our wished flight. CONSTANCY T~^EAR ! if you change, I '11 never choose again ; ^ — ^ Sweet ! if you shrink, I '11 never think of love ; Fair ! if you fail, I '11 judge all beauty vain ; Wise ! if too weak, more wits I, '11 never prove. Dear ! Sweet ! Fair ! Wise ! change, shrink not, nor be weak : And, on my faith, my faith shall never break. . Earth with her flowers shall sooner heaven adorn ; Heaven 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, heaven, fire, air, the world transform'd shall view, Ere I prove false to faith or strange to you. J DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS 1 83 TO CYNTHIA "|\ yr Y THOUGHTS are wing'd with hope, my -^ -^ hopes with love : Mount, love ! unto the Moon in clearest night ; And say, as she doth in the heavens move. In earth so wanes and waxes my delight. And whisper this, but softly, in her ears, — • Hope oft doth hang the head, and trust shed tears. And you, my thoughts ! that some mistrust do carry, If for mistrust my Mistress do you blame, Say, though you alter, yet you do not vary, As she doth change and yet remain the same : Distrust doth enter hearts, but not infeil, And love is sweetest season'd with suspe6l. If she for this with clouds do mask her eyes. And make the heavens dark with her disdain, With windy sighs disperse them in the skies, Or with thy tears dissolve them into rain ! Thoughts, hopes, and love, return to me no more Till Cynthia shine as she hath done before ! LOVE'S MESSENGERS /^ O, crystal tears ! like to the morning showers, ^-^ And sweetly weep into my Lady's breast ; And, as the dews revive the drooping flowers, So let your drops of pity be address'd To quicken up the thoughts of my desart, Whicli sleep too sound whilst I from her depart. 184 DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS Haste, restless sighs ! and let your burning breath Dissolve the ice of her indurate heart, Whose frozen rigour, like forgetful death, Feels never any touch of my desart : Yet sighs and tears to her I sacrifice, Both from a spotless heart and patient eyes. WEEP YOU NO MORE WEEP YOU NO MORE, sad fountains ! What need you flow so fast ? Look how the snowy mountains Heaven's sun doth gently waste ! But my sun's heavenly eyes View not your weeping, That now lies sleeping Softly, now softly lies, Sleeping. Sleep is a reconciling, A rest that peace begets : Doth not the sun rise smiling When fair at even he sets ? Rest you then, rest, sad eyes ! Melt not in weeping ! While she lies sleeping Softly, now softly lies, Sleeping. DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS 185 W WHITE AS LILIES H ITE AS LILIES was her face When She smiled She beguiled, Quiting faith witii foul disgrace. Virtue's service thus neglefted Heart with sorrows hath infe(5led. When I swore my heart her own, She disdained ; I complained, Yet She left me overthrown : Careless of my bitter grieving, Ruthless, bent to no reheving. Vows and oaths and faith assured. Constant ever. Changing never, — Yet She could not be procured To believe my pains exceeding From her scant respeft proceeding. O that love should have the art, By surmises, And disguises, To destroy a faithful heart ; Or that wanton-looking women Should regard their friends as foemen All in vain is ladies' love, — Quickly choosed, 1 86 DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS Shortly loosed : For their pride is to remove. Out, alas ! their looks first won us, And their pride hath straight undone us. To thyself, the Sweetest Fair ! Thou hast wounded. And confounded Changeless faith with foul despair ; And my service hast envied, And my succours hast denied. By thine error thou hast lost Heart unfeigned, Truth unstained, And the swain that loved most. More assured in love than many. More despised in love than any. For my heart, though set at nought, Since you will it, Spoil and kill it ! I will never change my thought : But grieve that beauty e'er was born Thus to answer love with scorn. DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS 187 EYES AND HEARTS TVT OW CEASE, my wandering eyes ! -^ ^ Strange beauties to admire ; In change least comfort lies, Long joys yield long desire. One faith, one love, Makes our frail life eternal sweetness prove ; New hopes, new joys. Are still with sore declining unto deep annoys. One man hath but one soul, Which art can not divide : If all must love one whole, Two loves must be denied. I One soul, one love. By faith and merit knit, can not remove ; Distra6led sprights Are ever changing and hapless in their delights. Nature two eyes hath given. All beauty to impart. As well in earth as heaven : But she hath given one heart That, though we see Ten thousand beauties, yet in us should be One stedfast love, — Because our hearts stand fix'd, although our eyes do move. l88 DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS FALSE ASTRONOMY WHAT poor astronomers are they Take women's eyes for stars, And set their thoughts in battle array To fight such idle wars, When in the end they shall approve 'Tis but a jest drawn out of love. And love itself is but a jest. Devised by idle heads To catch young Fancies in the nest. And lay them in fools' beds : That, being hatch'd in Beauty's eyes, They may be fledged ere they be wise. But yet it is a sport to see How Wit will run on wheels. While Wit can not persuaded be With that which Wisdom feels : That woman's eyes and stars are odd ; And Love is but a feigned god. But such as will run mad with will, — I can not clear their sight, But leave them to their study still, To look where is no light : Till time too late we make them try They study false astronomy. .-. -^ DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS 189 THE HERMIT'S SONG T^ROM fame's desire, from love's delight retired, -^ In these sad groves an hermit's life I lead ; And those false pleasures which I once admired With sad remembrance of my fall I dread. To birds, to trees, to earth, impart I this : For She less secret and as senseless is. Experience, which repentance only brings, Doth bid me now my heart from love estrange : Love is disdain'd when it doth look at kings, And love low placed base and apt to change. Their power doth take from him his liberty ; Her want of worth makes him in cradle die. You men that give false worship unto Love And seek that which you never shall obtain, The endless work of Sisiphus you prove, Whose end is this — to know you strive in vain. Hope and Desire, which now your idols be, You needs must lose, and feel despair with me. You woods ! in you the fairest nymphs have walk'd, Nymphs at whose sight all hearts did yield to love ; You woods ! in whom dear lovers oft have talk'd : How do you now a place of mourning prove ! Wanstead ! my Mistress saith this is the doom. Thou art love's child-bed, nursery, and tomb. ^X^k: igO DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS LOVIJ AND FORTUNE TRACTION, that ever dwells in Court, where wit ^ excels, Hath set defiance : Fortune and Love have sworn that they were never born Of one alliance. Cupid, which doth aspire to be God of desire, Swears he gives laws ; That where his arrows hit some joy, some sorrow it : Fortune no cause. Fortune swears weakest hearts (the books of Cupid's arts) Turn'd with her wheel Senseless themselves shall prove ; venter hath place in love, — Ask them that feel ! This discord, it begot atheists that honour not : Nature thought good Fortune should ever dwell in Court, where wits excel, Love keep the wood. So to the wood went I, with Love to live and die. Fortune's Forlorn : Experience of my youth made me think humble Truth In desert born. DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS I9I My Saint I keep to me, — and Joan herself is she, Joan fair and true : Joan, she doth only move passion of love with love. Fortune ! adieu ! FINIS, E. O. I HIS LADY'S GRIEF SAW my Lady weep. And Sorrow proud to be advanced so In those fair eyes where all perfeftions keep. Her face was full of woe : But such a woe, believe ! as wins more hearts Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts. Sorrow was there made fair. And passion wise, tears a delightful thing, Silence beyond all speech a wisdom rare ; She made her sighs to sing, And all things with so sweet a sadness move As made my heart at once both grieve and love. O, Fairer than aught else The world can show, leave off in time to grieve ! Enough ! enough ! your joyful look excels : Tears kill the heart, believe ! O strive not to be excellent in woe, Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow ! IQ2 DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS SONG OF HOPE DIE NOT before thy day, poor man condemn'd ! But lift thy low looks from the humble earth : Kiss not Despair, nor see sweet Hope contemn'd ; The hag hath no delight, but moan for mirth. O, fie ! poor fondling, fie ! be willing To preserve thyself from killing ! Hope, thy keeper, glad to free thee, Bids thee go, and will not see thee. Hie thee quickly from thy wrong ! — So she ends her wilUng song. WOEFUL HEART WOEFUL HEART, with grief oppressed ! Since my fortunes most distressed From my joys have me removed, Follow those sweet eyes adored, Those sweet eyes wherein are stored All my pleasures best beloved ! Fly my breast — leave me forsaken — Wherein Grief his seat hath taken. All his arrows through me darting ! Thou mayst live by her sun-shining : I shall suffer no more pining By thy loss than by her parting. DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS 1 93 HIS MISTRESS' BEAUTY T MUST complain, yet do enjoy my Love : ■^ She is too fair, too rich in beauty's parts. Thence is my grief : for Nature, while she strove With all her graces and divinest arts To form her too too beautiful of hue, She had no leisure left to make her true. Should I aggrieved then wish she v/ere less fair? That were repugnant to my own desires. She is admired ; new suitors still repair That kindle daily Love's forgetful fires. Rest, jealous thoughts ! and thus resolve at last : She hath more beauty than becomes the chaste. LOVE AND FOLLY TDEHOLD a wonder here ! -•— ^ Love hath received his sight : Which many hundred year Hath not beheld the light. Such beams infused be By Cynthia in his eyes. As first have made him see. And then have made him wise. Love now no more will weep For them that laugh the while, Nor wake for them that sleep. Nor sigh for them that smile. 194 DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS F So powerful is the Beauty That Love doth now behold. As Love is turn'd to Duty, That 's neither blind nor bold. Thus Beauty shows her might To be of double kind : In giving Love his sight, And striking Folly blind. THE PEDLAE'S SONG INE knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave, and new, Good pennyworths, — but money can not move : I keep a fair but for the Fair to view, — A beggar may be liberal in love. Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true : The heart is true. Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again ; My trifles come as treasures from my mind : It is a precious jewel, — to be jolain : Sometimes in shells the orient pearls we find. — Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain ! Of me a grain. Within this pack are pins, points, laces, gloves, And divers toys fitting a country Fair ; But my heart, wherein duty serves and loves — Turtles and twins, courts brood, a heavenly pair. Happy the heart that thinks of no remove ! Of no remove. FROM MORLEY'S BALLETS AND MADRIGALS DEFIANCE TO LOVE SHOOT, FALSE LOVE ! I care not : Spend thy shafts and spare not ! Fa la la ! I fear not, I, thy might, And less I weigh thy spite ; All naked I unarm me, — If thou canst, now shoot and harm me ! So lightly I esteem thee As now a child I deem thee. Fa la la la ! Long thy bow did fear me. While thy pomp did blear iTie : Fa la la ! But now I do perceive Thy art is to deceive ; And every simple lover All thy falsehood can discover. Then weep. Love ! and be sorry. For thou hast lost thy glory. Fa la la la ! MY DAINTY DARLING WHAT saith my Dainty Darling? Shall I now your love obtain ? Long time I sued for grace. And grace you granted me " When time should serve and place." Can any fitter be ? 196 MADRIGALS This crystal running fountain In his language saith — Come, love ! The birds, the trees, the fields, — Else none can us behold ; This bank soft lying yields. And saith — Nice fools ! be l^old. Fa la la la ! FALSE CLABINDA PHILISTUS' FAREWELL CLARINDA false ! adieu ! thy love torments me : Let Thirsis have thy heart, since he contents thee. O grief and bitter anguish ! For thee I languish : Fain I, alas ! would hide it : O, but who can abide it? Adieu, adieu, adieu then ! Farewell ! Leave me ! my death now desuing, Thou hast; lo ! thy requiring. — So spake Philistus on his hook relying, And sweetly fell a-dying. Since my tears and lamenting. False Love ! bred thy contenting. Still thus to weep for ever These fountains shall persever, Till my heart, grief brim-filled, Out, alas ! be distilled. — So spake he on his hook relying, And sweetly fell a-dying. MADRIGALS 1 9/ FALSE DOB US T N dew of roses steeping -^ Her lovely cheeks, Lycoris sat a- weeping : — Ah, Dorus false ! thou hast my heart bereft me. And now, unkind, hast left me. Hear, alas, O hear me ! Ay me, ay me. Can not my beauty move thee ? Pity then, pity me Because I love thee ! Ay me, thou scorn'st the more I pray thee ; And this thou dost to slay me. Ah, do then, do, kill me and vaunt thee ! Yet my ghost still shall haunt thee. FROM WILBYE'S MADRIGALS T SANG sometimes my thoughts and fancies' pleasure. -*- Where then I list, or time served best and leisure : While Daphne did invite me To supper once, and drank to me to spite me. I smiled, yet still did doubt her. And drank where she had drunk before, to flout her. But O, while I did eye her, Mine eyes drank love, my lips drank burning fire. 198 MADRIGALS THE JEWEL ' j ^HERE is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy, ^ No chemic art can counterfeit : It makes men rich in greatest poverty, Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold, The homely whistle to sweet music's strain : Seldom it comes, to few from heaven sent. That much in little, all in nought, — Content. LIFS AND ROSES T ADY ! when I behold the roses sprouting, -« — ' Which clad in damask mantles deck the arbours. And then behold your lips where sweet love harbours, My eyes present me with a double doubting : For, viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes Whether the roses be your lips or your lips be the roses. COME, SHEPHERD SWAINS! COME, shepherd swains that wont to hear me sing Now sigh and groan ! Dead is my Love, my Hope, my Joy, my Spring : Dead, dead, and gone. O, She that was your summers' queen, Your days' delight, Is gone, and will no more be seen : O cruel spite ! Break all your pipes that wont to sound With pleasant cheer. MADRIGALS 1 99 And cast yourselves upon the ground, To wail my Dear ! Come, shepherd swains ! come, nymphs ! and all a-row, To help me cry : Dead is my Love ; and, seeing She is so, Lo ! now I die. LOVE ME NOT FOB COMELY GRACE LOVE ME not for comely grace. For my pleasing eye or face, Nor for any outward part ; No ! nor for my constant heart ! For these may fail, or turn to ill : So thou and I shall sever. Keep therefore a true woman's eye, And love me well, yet know not why ! So hast thou the same reason still To doat upon me ever. SWEET NIGHT DRAW on, sweet Night ! best friend unto those cares That do arise from painful melancholy : My life so ill through want of comfort fares, That unto thee I consecrate it wholly. Sweet Night ! draw on : my griefs, when they be told To shades and darkness, find some ease from paining ; And while thou all in silence dost infold, I then shall have best time for my complaining. 200 MADRIGALS FROM WEELKES' BALLETS AND MADRIGALS THIRSIS UPON A HILL the bonny boy, Sweet Thirsis, sweetly play'd, And call'd his lambs their master's joy ; And more he would have said, But love, that gives the lover wings, Withdrew his mind from other things. His pipe and he could not agree, For Milla was his note : The silly pipe could never get This lovely name by rote. With that they both fell on a sound : He fell asleep, his pipe to ground. SPRING SONG TN pride of May -^ The fields are gay, The birds do sweetly sing : So Nature would That all things should With joy begin the Spring. Then, Lady dear ! Do you appear In beauty, like the Spring ! I well dare say The birds that day More cheerfully will sing. MADRIGALS 20I HOLD OUT, MY HEART! HOLD out, my heart ! with joy's delights accloy'd, Hold out, my heart ! and show it, That all the world may know it, What sweet content thou lately hast enjoy'd. She that " Come, Dear ! " would say. Then laugh, and smile, and run away, And if I stay'd her would cry " Nay ! Fie ! for shame ! fie ! " My true love not regarding. Hath given me at length his full rewarding : So that, unless I tell The joys that overfill me. My joys kept in — full well I know — will kill me. FROM FARMER'S ENGLISH MADRIGALS TIME NOT TO BE LOST ' j ^AKE time while time doth last ! -*- Mark how fair fadeth fast ! Beware, beware if Envy reign ! Beware, take heed of proud disdain Hold fast now in thy youth, — Now regard thy vowed truth, — Lest when thou waxeth old Friends fail and love grow cold ! 202 MADRIGALS THE COY MAIDEN'S CONSENT OSTAY, sweet Love ! see here the place of sporting ; These gentle flowers smile sweetly to invite us ; And chirping birds are hitherwards resorting, Warbling their sweet notes only to delight us : Then stay, dear Love ! for though thou run from me, Run ne'er so fast, yet I will follow thee. I thought, my Love ! that I should overtake you : Sweetheart ! sit down under this shadow'd tree ; And I will promise never to forsake you, So you will grant to me a lover's fee. Whereat She smiled, and kindly to me said — " I never meant to live and die a maid." FAIR PHILLIS T^AIR PHILLIS I saw sitting all alone, -*- Feeding her flock near to the mountain side : The shepherds knew not whither she was gone, But after her her Love, Amyntas, hied. He wander'd up and down whilst she was missing : When he found her, then they fell a-kissing. MADRIGALS 203 FROM BATESON'S MADRIGALS SISTER, AWAKE! SISTER, AWAKE ! close not your eyes ! The day its light discloses : And the bright Morning doth arise Out of her bed of roses. See ! the clear Sun, the world's bright eye, In at our window peeping ! Lo, how he blusheth to espy Us idle wenches sleeping. Therefore awake ! make haste ! I say ; And let us, without staying. All in our gowns of green so gay Into the park a-maying. WHITHER SO FAST? WHITHER so fast ? Ah, see ! the kindly flowers Perfume the air, and all to make thee stay : The climbing woodbine, clipping all these bowers. Clips thee Ukewise, for fear thou pass avv'ay : Fortune our friend, our foe will not gainsay. Stay but awhile ! Phoebe no tell-tale is : She her Endymion, I '11 my Phoebe kiss. FROM FORDE'S MUSIC OF SUNDRY KINDS LOVE TILL DEATH THERE IS a Lady, sweet and kind, — Was never face so pleased my mind ! I did but see her passing by. And yet I love her till I die. Her gesture, motion, and her smiles, Her wit, her voice, my heart beguiles : Beguiles my heart, I know not why : And yet I love her till I die. Her free behaviour, winning looks, Will make a lawyer burn his books : I touch'd her not, — alas ! not I : And yet I love her till I die. Had I her fast betwixt my arms, — Judge, you that think such sports were harms ! Were 't any harm ? No, no ! fie, fie ! For I will love her till I die. Should I remain confined there So long as Phoebus in his sphere, I to request, she to deny, Yet would I love her till I die. Cupid ns winged, and doth range Her country, — so my Love doth change : But change the earth or change the sky. Yet will I love her till I die. FORDE 205 A MISTRESS DESCRIBED HOW shall I then describe my Love ? When all men's skilful art Is far inferior to her worth, To praise the unworthiest part. She 's chaste in looks, mild in her speech, In adlions all discreet, Of nature loving, pleasing most, In virtue all complete. And for her voice a Philomel, Her lips may all lips scorn ; No sun more clear than is her eye, In brightest summer morn. A mind wherein all virtues rest And take delight to be. And where all virtues graft themselves In that most fruitful tree : A tree that India doth not yield. Nor ever yet was seen, Where buds of virtue always spring. And all the year grow gi-een. That country 's blest wherein she grows, And happy is that rock From whence she springs : but happiest he That grafts in such a stock. 206 FORDE SINCE FIRST I SAW YOUR FACE SINCE FIRST I saw your face I resolved To honour and renown you : If now I be disdain'd, I wish My heart had never known you. What, I that loved and you that liked, Shall we begin to wrangle ? No, no, no ! my heart is fast, And can not disentangle. If I admire or praise you too much, That fault you may forgive me ; Or if my hands had stray'd to touch, Then justly might you leave me. I ask'd your leave, you bade me love : Is 't now a time to chide me ? No, no, no ! I '11 love you still. What fortune e'er betide me. The sun, whose beams most glorious are, Rejedeth no beholder ; And your sweet beauty, past compare, Makes my poor eyes the bolder. Where beauty moves, and wit delights, And signs of kindness bind me. There, O there, where'er I go, I leave my heart behind me. If I have wrong'd you, tell me wherein. And I will soon amend it ; CAMPION 207 In recompense of such a sin, Here is my heart ; — I '11 send it. If that will not your mercy move, Then for my life I care not. Then, O then, torment me still, And take my life, and spare not ! FROM CAMPION'S AIRS THE BIGHT OF BEAUTY . GIVE BEAUTY all her right. She 's not to one form tied ; Each shape yields fair delight Where her perfe6tions bide : Helen, I grant, might pleasing be ; And Rosamund was as sweet as she. Some the quick eye commends, Some swelling lips and red : Pale looks have many friends, Through sacred sweetness bred : Meadows have flowers that pleasure move. Though roses are the flowers of Love. Free Beauty is not bound To one unmoved clime ; She visits every ground. And favours every time : Let the old loves with mine compare. My Sovereign is as sweet and fair. FROM DEUTEROMELIA THREE POOR MARINERS W! "E be three Poor Mariners, Newly come from the seas : We spend our lives in jeopardy While others live at ease : Shall we go dance the round, the round, the round ? Shall we go dance the round, the round, the round ? And he that is a bully boy Come pledge me on this ground, aground, aground ! We care not for those martial men That do our states disdain ; But we care for the merchant men, Who do our states maintain : To them we dance this round, around, around, — To them we dance this round, around, around, — And he that is a bully boy Come pledge me on this ground, aground, aground ! FROM MELISMATA THE THREE RAVENS nPHERE were three Ravens sat on a tree, — ^ Down-a-down, hey down, hey down ! There were three Ravens sat on a tree, — With a do^vn ! There were three Ravens sat on a tree, — They were as black as they might be : With a down, derry derry derry down down ! MELISMATA 2O9 The one of them said to his make — Where shall we om- breakfast take ? Down in yonder greene field There lies a knight slain under his shield. His hounds they lie down at his feet : So well they their master keep. His hawks they fly so eagerly, There 's no fowl dare him come nigh. Down there comes a fallow doe, Great with young as she might go. She hft up his bloody head, And kist his wounds that were so red. She gat him upon her back, And carried him to earthen lake. She buried him before the prime ; She was dead ere even-time. God send every gentleman Such hounds, such hawks, and such leman ! With a down, derry FROM PILKINGTON'S MADRIGALS HAVE I FOUND HER? O rich finding Goddess-like for to behold : Her fair tresses seemly binding In a chain of pearl and gold. Chain me, chain me, O Most Fair ! Chain me to thee with that hair. FROM ENGLAND'S HELICON PHIL LID A AND COB YD ON Phillida — CORYDON ! arise, my Corydon ! Titan shineth clear. Corydon — Who is it that calleth Corydon ? Who is it that I hear? Phillida — Phillida, thy true love, calleth thee : Arise then, arise then. Arise and keep thy flock with me ! Corydon — Phillida, my true love, is it she ? ^^^ I come then, I come then, "^ I come and keep my flock with thee. Phillida — Here are cherries ripe, my Corydon ! Eat them for my sake ! Corydon — Here 's my oaten pipe, my Lovely One ! Sport for thee to make. Phillida — Here are threads, my true love ! fine as silk, To knit thee, to knit thee A pair of stockings white as milk. Corydon — Here are reeds, my true love ! fine and neat, To make thee, to make thee A bonnet to withstand the heat. Phillida — I will gather flowers, my Corydon ! To set in thy cap. Corydon — I will gather pears, my Lovely One ! To put in thy lap. ENGLAND'S HELICON 211 Phillida — I will buy my true love garters gay, For Sundays, for Sundays, To wear about his legs so tall. CORYDON — I will buy my true love yellow say, For Sundays, for Sundays, To wear about her middle small. Phillida — When my Corydon sits on a hill. Making melody, — Corydon — When my Lovely One goes to her wheel, Singing cheerily, — Phillida — Sure, methinks, my true love doth excel For sweetness, for sweetness. Our Pan, that old Arcadian knight ; Corydon — And methinks my true love bears the bell For clearness, for clearness. Beyond the Nymphs, that be so bright, Phillida — Had my Corydon, my Corydon, Been, alack ! her swain, — Corydon — Had my Lovely One, my Lovely One, Been in Ida plain, — Phillida — Cynthia Endymion had refused, Preferring, preferring My Corydon to play withal. Corydon — The Queen of Love had been excused Bequeathing, bequeathing My Phillida the golden ball. Phillida — Yonder comes my mother, Corydon ! Whither shall I fly? 212 ENGLAND'S HELICON CoRYDON — Under yonder beech, my Lovely One ! ^VhiIe she passeth by. Phillida — Say to her thy true love was not here ! Remember ! remember To-morrow is another day ! CoRYDON — Doubt me not, my true love ! do not fear ! Farewell then ! farewell then ! Heaven keep our loves alway ! Ignoto. BEAUTY SAT BATHING TD EAUTY sat bathing by a spring -'— ' Where fairest shades did hide her : The winds blew calm, the birds did sing, The cool streams ran beside her : My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye, To see what was forbidden ; But better memory said — Fie ! So vain desire was chidden. Hey nonnie ! nonnie ! Into a slumber then I fell. When fond imagination Seemed to see, but could not tell Her feature or her fashion. But even as babes in dreams do smile. And sometimes fall a-weeping, So I awaked, as wise this while As when I fell a-sleeping. Hey nonnie ! nonnie ! Shepherd Tonie. FROM DAVISON'S POETICAL RHAPSODY WHERE HIS LADY KEEPS HER HEART QWEET LOVE, mine only treasure ! O For service long unfeigned, Wherein I nought have gained, Vouchsafe this little pleasure : To tell me in what part My Lady keeps her heart. If in her hair so slender. Like golden nets entwined Which fire and art have fined, Her thrall my heart I render, For ever to abide With locks so dainty tied. If in her eyes she bind it. Wherein that fire was framed By which it was inflamed, I dare not look to find it : I only wish it sight To see that pleasant light. But if her breast have deigned With kindness to receive it, I am content to leave it. Though death thereby were gained. Then, Lady ! take your own. That lives for you alone. A. w. 214 POETICAL RHAPSODY THE TOMB OF DEAD DESIRE ^ A rHEN VENUS saw Desire must die — ^ * Whom high Disdain Had justly slain For killing Truth with scornful eye, — The earth she leaves, and gets her to the sky : Her golden hair she tears ; Black weeds of woe she wears ; For help unto her Father doth she cry : Who bids her stay a space, And hope for better grace. To save his life she hath no skill : Whom should she pray? What do, or say. But weep for wanting of her will ? Meantime Desire hath ta'en his last farewell, And in a meadow fair, To which the Nymphs repair. His breathless corse is laid with worms to dwell. So glory doth decay When Death takes life away. When morning's star had chased the night, The Queen of Love Look'd from above. To see the grave of her delight ; And as with heedful eye she view'd the place, She spied a flower unknown. That on his grave was grown POETICAL RHAPSODY 215 Instead of learned verse his tomb to grace. If you the name require, H ear fs -case, from dead desire. A. w. HOPELESS DESIRE SOON WITHERS AND DIES THOUGH naked trees seem dead to sight, When Winter wind doth keenly blow, Yet, if the root maintain her right. The Spring their hidden life will show : But if the root be dead and dry, No marvel though the branches die. While hope did live within my breast, No winter storm could kill desire ; But now disdain hath hope oppress'd Dead is the root, dead is the spire. Hope was the root, the spire was love : No sap beneath, no life above. And as we see the rootless stock Retain some sap, and spring awhile. Yet quickly prove a lifeless block. Because the root doth life beguile, — So lives desire which hope hath left : As twilight shines when sun is reft. A. W. 2l6 POETICAL RHAPSODY NATURAL COMPARISONS WITH PERFECT LOVE '"PHE LOWEST trees have tops, the ant her gall, ^ The fly her spleen, the little sparks their heat ; The slender hairs cast shadows, though but small ; And bees have stings, although they be not great ; Seas have their source, and so. have shallow springs : And love is love, in beggars as in kings. When rivers smoothest run, deep are the fords ; The dial stirs, yet none perceive it move ; The firmest faith is in the fewest words ; The turtles can not sing, and yet they love : True hearts have eyes and ears, no tongues to speak ; They hear and see and sigh, and then they break. A. w. IN PRAISE OF THE SUN n^HE GOLDEN SUN that brings the day, -*- And lends men light to see withal. In vain doth cast his beams away Where they are blind on whom they fall : There is no force in all his light To give the mole a perfect sight. But thou, my Sun ! more bright than he That shines at noon in summer tide, Hast given me light and power to see. With pcrfedl skill my sight to guide : Till now I lived as blind as mole That hides her head in earthly hole. POETICAL RHAPSODY 21/ I heard the praise of Beauty's grace, Yet deem'd it nought but poets' skill ; I gazed on many a lovely face, Yet found I none to bind my will : Which made me think that beauty bright Was nothing else than red and white. But now thy beams have clear'd my sight I blush to think I was so blind ; Thy flaming eyes afford me light. That beauty's blaze each where I find. And yet these Dames that shine so bright Are but the shadow of thy light. A. W. BEGGARS' SONG T^ RIGHT shines the sun : play, beggars ! play ! ^ — ' Here 's scraps enough to serve to-day. What noise of viols is so sweet As when our merry clappers ring ? What mirth doth want where beggars meet? A beggar's life is for a king : Eat, drink, and play ; sleep when we list ; Go where we will, so stocks be miss'd. Bright shines the sun : play, beggars ! play ! Here 's scraps enough to serve to-day. The world is ours, and ours alone. For we alone have worlds at will : We purchase not, 'tis all our own, Both fields and streets we beggars fill. 2l8 POETICAL RHAPSODY Nor care to get, nor fear to keep, Did ever break a beggar's sleep. Bright shines the sun : play, beggars ! play ! Here 's scraps enough to serve to-day. A hundred head of black and white Upon our gowns securely feed : If any dares his master bite. He dies therefore, as sure as creed. Thus beggars lord it as they please : And only beggars live at ease. Bright shines the sun : play, beggars ! play ! Here 's scraps enough to serve to-day. IF WRONG BY FORCE TF WRONG by force had Justice put to flight, -*- Yet were there hope she might return again ; If lawless War had shut her up from sight, Yet lawful Peace might soon restore her train : But now, alas ! what hope of hope is left. When wrongful Death hath her of hfe bereft? The Sun, that often falls, doth often rise ; The Moon, that waneth, waxeth full with light : But he that Death in chains of darkness ties, Can never break the bands of lasting night. What then remains but tears, of loss to wail In which all hope of mortal help doth fail? In vain I live, such sorrow lives in me ; In vain lives Sorrow, since by her I live : POETICAL RHAPSODY 219 Life works in vain where Death will master be ; Death strives in vain where Life doth virtue give. Thus each of us would work another's woe, And hurts himself in vain, and helps his foe. Who then shall weep — nay, who shall tears refrain, If common harms must move the minds of all ? Too few are found that wrongful hearts restrain, And of too few too many Death doth call. These common harms I v/ail among the rest, But private loss denies to be express'd. mismmi^m7mm6>mm!m^0^mmm>.^:j^^^ FROM WIT'S RECREATIONS ON A BEAUTIFUL VIRGIN IN THIS MARBLE buried hes -*- Beauty may enrich the skies, And add light to Phoebus' eyes. Sweeter than Aurora's air, When she paints the lilies fair And gilds cowslips with her hair. Chaster than the virgin Spring, Ere her blossoms she doth bring. Or cause Philomel to sing. If such goodness live 'mongst men. Bring me it ! I shall know then She is come from heaven agen. 220 WIT'S RECREATIONS But if not, ye standers by ! Cherish me, and say that I Am the next desiarn'd to die. '»' ON CHLOBIS WALKING IN THE SNOW I SAW FAIR CHLORIS walk alone When feather'd rain came softly down, — Then Jove descended from his Tower To court her in a silver shower : The wanton snow flew to her breast, Like little birds into their nest ; But overcome with whiteness there For grief it thaw'd into a tear ; Then, falling down her garment hem, To deck her, froze into a gem. ON HIS MISTRESS ]Wr Y LOVE and I for kisses play'd, ^ ^ She would keep stakes, I was content, — And when I won she would be paid : This made me ask her what she meant. Saith she — Since you are in this wrangling vein, Take you your kisses ; give me mine again ! FROM WIT RESTORED PHILLADA OH ! WHAT a pain is love How shall I bear it ? She will unconstant prove, I greatly fear it. She so torments my mind, That my strength faileth, And wavers with the wind As a ship saileth : Please her the best I may, She loves still to gainsay : Alack and well-a-day ! Phillada flouts me. AH the fair yesterday She did pass by me, She look'd another way, And would not spy me : I woo'd her for to dine. But could not get her ; Will had her to the wine — He might intreat her. With Daniel she did dance, On me she look'd askance : Oh, thrice unhappy chance ! Phillada flouts me. Fair maid ! be not so coy, Do not disdain me ! 222 PHILLADA I am my mother's joy : Sweet ! entertain me ! She '11 give me when she dies All that is fitting : Her poultry, and her bees, And her goose sitting, A pair of mattrass beds, And a bag full of shreds : And yet, for all this guedes, PhiUada flouts me. She hath a clout of mine. Wrought with blue Coventry, Which she keeps for a sign Of my fidelity : But, 'faith, if she flinch, She shall not wear it ; To Tib, my t' other wench, I mean to bear it. And yet it grieves my heart So soon from her to part : Death strike me with his dart ! PhiUada flouts me. Thou shalt eat crudded cream All the year lasting. And drink the crystal stream Pleasant in tasting, Whig and whey whilst thou lust, And ramble-berries. Pie-lid and pastry crust. Pears, plums, and cherries ; PHILLADA 223 Thy raiment shall be thin, Made of a weevil's skin Yet all 's not worth a pin : Phillada flouts me. Fair maiden ! have a care, And in time take me ! I can have those as fair, If you forsake me : For Doll the dairy maid Laugh'd at me lately, And wanton Winifred Favours me greatly. One throws milk on my clothes, T' other plays with my nose : What wanting signs are those ! Phillada flouts me. I can not work nor sleep At all in season : Love wounds my heart so deep, Without all reason. I 'gin to pine away In my Love's shadow, Like as a fat beast may Penn'd in a meadow. I shall be dead, I fear, Within this thousand year : And all for that my dear Phillada flouts me. NOTES NOTES DUNBAR DUNBAR begins the sixteenth century : 1503 is the date of The Thistle and tJie Rose, written on occasion of the marriage of James iv of Scotland with the English Princess Margaret. The Golden Targe (printed at the first Scottish Press) was written somewhat later. The two poems I print are undated : probably one or both belonging to his younger days. How could these so simply beautiful lines on the Rue have escaped the collectors ? Is there much so fine through all the poetic years ? Not only to show what antique spelling was, I repeat them here, verbatim et literatim, from Laing's edition of Dunbar, 1834. To A Ladye SwEiT Rois of vertew and of gentilness, Delytsum Lyllie of everie lustyness, Richest in bontie, and in bewtie cleir, And everie vertew that is held most deir Except onlie that ye ar mercyless. Into your garthe this day I did persew, Thair saw I flowris that fresche wer of hew ; Baithe quhite and reid moist lusty wer to seyne, And halsum herbis upon stalkis grene ; Yit leif nor flour fynd could I nane of Rew. 228 NOTES I dout that Merche, with his cauld blastis keyne, Has slane this gentill herbc, tliat I of inene : Quhois petewous deithe dois to my heart sic pane, That I wald mak to plant his rute againe So comfortand his levis unto me bene. Page I, line 4 : — Pinkerton, who printed this in his A/icieJii Scottish Poeins, 17S6, has — And everie vertew the to hevin is deir. Garthe is garden ; I of inene — I moan for, or lament ; com- fortand (a termination often in old writings) — comforting ; bee7t — were, or have been. This use of been, as also for are and is and be, is common in early poetry : — With every thing that pretty bin — Shakspere. Thy words harsh and ungracious been — Chapman. As fresh as been the flowers — Peele. P. 2 — Advice to Lovers. Leir — \&?ixx\\ perqnier — truly, says Laing, but it is the French pourquoi, Italian perche, — therefore, wherefore, reason why ; is went — is gone, of the verb to wend — to go ; discure — discover. HEYWOOD /". 3 — A Praise of his Lady. Out of TotteVs Miscellany, 1557. Reprinted by Arber, 1870. Ellis in his Early English Poets has the poem wanting the seventh stanza. In the line She may be well compared, I hope I may be forgiven for adding very, to help the halting measure : more likely the printer's than the poet's fault. WYATT P. S — Yea or Nay. Boordcs, boords, or bourdes, — tricks, jests. Here is a specimen of bad punctuation, from Ellis : — If it be yea, I shall be fain ; If it be n.iy — friends as before : You shall another man obtain ; And I, mine own ; and yours no more. NOTES 229 P. 6 — Disdain me not ! Forethink me not, to be unjust! That is — Do not be unjust in thinking ill of me before cause shown i Arber has — Nor think me not to be unjust ; And Ellis — For think me not to be unjust, Both meaningless ! Forethink is used by Donne ; Chapman has ■A'&o forespeak. And foregone, forewent, forefeels. But since ye know what 1 intend. Since is here used for when, or after : the stanza is complete. Ellis, with a comma in place of the full stop, alters the sense. He also misprints the last line of the poem : Forsake me not now for no new. VAUX P. 'J — Death in Life. Given in The Paradise of Dainty Devices, 1576; and Morley's New Book of Tablature, 1596. Reprinted in Collier's Lyrical Poems, 1844. TUSSER P. 8 — This, from the Hujidred Good Points of Hnsbandry, is in the original entitled A Sonnet; and may in some sort be considered such, if we take it as consisting of fourteen verses, the first twelve but divided into two lines each to expose the middle rhymes. The old printer in line 4 for gift had shift, destroying sense and rhyme too ; in line 13 iox poor face had good face, also senseless. GRIMAOLD /". 9 — A True Love. The old reading of line 5 is — As mellow pears above the crabs esteemed be. But surely the poet did not emphasize the; and would mark the contrast to melloiv with some descriptive word, harsh, or other: though I may not have hit upon the right. In the last line but one I dare to print or for a7td. 230 NOTES GOOGE P- II —To THE Tune of Apelles. Her face of crystal to the same. So in Arber's Reprint of his Eglogs, Epitaphes &^ Soneiles, 000^6,1563. Yi^x face, or eyes ? " Crystal eyes " was the stock poetic simile. Yet Watson has " her crystal breast." P. 12— Once musing as I sat. This appears at first like long lines arbitrarily divided, each second half (Arber's copy) beginning without a capital. But the division is at the accent, except in one instance, where a comma enforces it at the cost of sense : the well-rejoicing of the Fly being so altered to the well-perceiving of the man. Scly — simple, guileless, foolish. SIDNEY P. 17 — Absence. In Ward's English Poets, 1880, part of this is given : one stanza squeamishly suppressed. I will not meet ill thought by pointing out which. Honi soit qui mal y pense ! Pure and manly, there is never one word of Sidney's that needs to be blotted out. One may here also remark the unfairness, toward both writer and reader, of giving only part of a short poem. It should be all or none. Yet frequently in collections we find not even notice of omissions. I offer no apology for giving so much from so true a poet, characterized at once (as Grosart well observes) by "passion, thought, and fineness of art," and so neglected : out of whose riches so late a collector as Trench can borrow only a couple of sonnets. Palgrave's Golden Treasury, a choice gathering, and assuming " to include in it all the best original lyrical pieces and songs in our language," contains (notwithstanding the Laureate's "advice and assistance ") ten lines of Sidney, those incorrectly. The lovely Epithalamiuiii (here at p. 22) will bear comparison widi the Epithala7nion and Prothala- viion of Spenser, or with Ben Jonson's Epithalamion (p. 61). There is another Marriage Song of equal beauty by rare Ben : NOTES 231 " Glad Time is at his point arrived," to be read in his Masque of Hymen. And Donne has yet another of the same sterling character: "The sunbeams in the East are spread." Four of these neglected by the excellent collectors ; and of Spenser's two one distinctly rejected by Palgrave, as " not in harmony with modern manners." My first four Songs and first three Sonnets will be found in the Astrophel and Stella ; the Epithalamium, Epitaph, Rural Poesy, and the second Sonnet on p. 29, are from the Arcadia. It is of this last sonnet that Palgrave gives part as complete in two five-line stanzas. He perhaps followed Ellis, who found it in Puttenham's contemporaneous Art of Poesy j yet neither Ellis nor Palgrave is exact to Puttenham. And he may have trusted to memory, or to some musical miscellany where it had been altered to a song, to suit an air. With few differences of punctuation, Dr. Grosart's careful text warrants me here, and generally for Sidney's writing. The exceptions are noted as follows. P. 16 — The Meeting. In the last stanza he has — Leaning him to passion rent : Pp. 17-18 — Absence. — Or if I myself find not : Fearing her beames, take with tliee (which places the accent awkwardly on her') : O my thoughts, my thoughts surcease ! (But he himself observes that the poet addresses Thought as " his intellectual part," " a being that has thoughts," — which also would require thy thoughts, as thy delights in next line) Till thou shalt ruined be, (without comment, — surely a misprint) : P. 21 — The Colloquy.— More then in thy reason's sight : No, the more fooles it doth shake (which is not the poet's sense, even if his own writing) : 2-^2 NOTES P. 25 — Epithalamium. — But keeping whole your meane, (What mean between peacock pride and sluttery? Or would Sidney have missed the regularly recurring rhyme ?) ; P. 26. — Wooing Stuff. — In question? nay, 'uds-foot, she loves thee than. {Than — then. I leave out the useless hids-foof, doubting it to be Sidney's, also as out of measure. Ellis rejects it.) P. 30 — His Answer. — Deeming strange euill in that he did not know. Fire and sire (in desire), p. 14, must be read as dissyllables, sometimes v/ritteny?^r and desier j btit means unless, in last stanza of Opportunity; destines is destinies ; ininds (such minds to nourish, p. 21) is desires, thoughts, minded things ; louts — obeisances, courtesies (p. 21); grant to the thing is grant the thing (p. 23) ; learn (p. 26) has its old meaning of teach ; a sleck-sione (p. 27) is a stone used for smoothing, or sleeking, leather ; wood (p. 30), also wode, is mad. WATSON P. 31 — On Sidney's Death. Taken from Y^yrdiS Italia7i Madrigals, 1590. Collier, reprinting it in his Lyrical Poems, for With dreary has How with dryry j for then, in last line but one, therefore, spoiling the rhythm ; and greetifig, in the last line, to rhyme with weeping. Since in all Watson's verse I have detected but one false couplet, and that looking like a misprint, I will not believe that in eight lines on so serious an occasion he would have been content with such slovenliness. I only suggest keeping, as at least to the purpose. I doubt any dependence to be placed on early texts, more particularly referring now to musical miscellanies. I suspect that the old musical editors, Byrd, Campion, and the rest (supposed or known to have sometimes written upon their own account), cared very little, if at all, for verbal exactness, and would not hesitate to alter their poet's words to suit the music : a more NOTES 233 tolerable practice, I dare to think, than mangling our old airs to fit new words, — as was done with Moore's Melodies. But then we must disenthrone these editors as literary authorities. Byrd, or Bird, or Byrde, or Birde, was Watson's associate in the first pubHcation of Madrigals with English words: that is to say, " Italian Madrigals Englished, not to the sense of the originall dittie, but after the affection of the noate." In which collection are " excellent madrigalls of Master WiUiam Byrds, composed after the Italian vaine at the request of the sayd Thomas Watson." Pp. 31-34 — These five "Sonnets" (so miscalled, consisting all of six-lined stanzas) are from Watson's Hekatoiapathia, or a '■'•Passionate Centurie of Lone, diuided into two parts : whereof the first expresseth the Author's suflferance in Loue : the latter his long farewell to Loue and all his tyrannic." 1582. The May Queen is from England's Helicon. The Sonnet, pp. 35-36, from The Teares of Fancie, or Lone Disdained, " printed at London for William Barley, dwelling in Gratious streete, ouer against Leaden Hall, 1593." Put not your trust in printers ! This one mis-spells the name of his own streete. There was no Gralious sireele in London ; but, named from the church in it, Gracechurch St. — over against Leaden Hall. Merest poetic conceits as Watson's verses seem to me, when compared with the passionate, heart-welling poetry of Sidney (though Arber, who not inaptly styles Watson " our English Petrarch," would rank him above Sidney, next after Spenser), they are worth notice, not only for their rarity, but also for a display of verj^ extensive book-learning, and more as perhaps the best of a large proportion of the Euphuistic versification of the period. Arber's Reprint of the Tears of Fancy, 1870, is "from an unique copy" owned by S. Christie-Miller, Esq. Each of Watson's hundred (97 only) Sonnets, or Passions, has for prefix a prose annotation : a single example of which may suffice to show the affected, yet learned, quality of all. 234 NOTES The following explains the sonnet I call The Kiss, p. 33: — " In this passion the Authour, being ioyfull for a kisse, which he had rcceiued of his Loue, compareth the same vnto that kisse, which sometime Venus bestowed vpon Aesculapius, for hauing ta- ken a Bramble out of her foote which pricked her througli the hid- den spitcfull dcceyte of Diana, by whom it was laidc in her way, — as Strozza writeth. And hee cnlargclh his inuention vppon the frcnch proucrbiall speech, which importeth thus much in effect, — that three things proceed from the mouth, which are to be had in high account, Breath, Speech, and Kissing ; — the fii-st argiieth a man's life-, the second his thought; the third and last, his loue." /*. 31 — Of Time. In Davison's Poetical Rhapsody this has been reduced to a sonnet, by throwing out four lines. P. 32 — Jealous of Ganymede. Arber prints in the first stanza, or " staff" — To which all Neighbour, Saintes and Gods were calde. In the third — And she once found should neither will nor choose. P. 2,^^. — Randon is random ; blaze, blazon. In Byrd's Italiati Madrigals I find the following variation of the May Queen. Was it so changed to suit " the affection of the noate".-' TO THE MAY QUEEN , This sweet and merrie month of May, While nature wantons in her pryme. And byrds do sing and beasts do play. For pleasure of the joyfull time ; I chuse the first for holly dale. And greet Eliza with a ryme. O beauteous queene of second Troy, Take well in worth a simple toy. I may here add, as farther sample of a poet almost unknown, a fragment (which as such would not come within the limits of my text) from his " Melicokus, an Eglogue," translated by Watson from his own Latin Elegy written on the death of NOTES 235 Sir Francis Walsingham, 1590. Spelling of Gratious streete. Diana is of course Oueen Elizabeth. . , DIANA, wondrous mirrour of our dales ; Diana, matchlesse Queene of A?'cadiej Diana whose surpassing beauties praise >, improus hir worth jDast terrene deitie ; -^ Diana, Sibill for hir secret skill ; Diana, pieties chief earthlie friend; Diana, holi^ both in deede and will ; Diana, whose iust praises haue no end. Ah but my Muse, that creeps but on the ground, begins to tremble at my great presume. For naming hir, whose titles onelie sound doth glad the welkin with a sweet perfume. For in hir minde so manie vertues dwell as eurie moment breed new pieties : Yet all in one coioind doe all excell, and crowne hir worth with sundrie deities. But that vnwares my sorie stile proceeds drad Cynthia pardon : loue desires dispense : As yoves high Oaks orelook Pans slender reeds, so boue all praising flies thine excellence. Yet lest my homespun verse obscure hir worth, sweet Spe^icer let me leaue this taske to thee. Whose neuerstooping quill can best set forth such things of state, as passe my Muse, and me. Thou Spencer art the alderliefest swaine, or haply if that word be all to base, Thou art Apollo whose sweet hunnie vaine amongst the Muses hath a chiefest place. Therefore in fulnes of thy duties loue, calme thou the tempest oi Dianaes brest, Whilst shee for Meliboeus late remoue afflicts hir mind with ouerlong vnrest. 236 NOTES MUNDAY P. 36 — The Dirge out of an old play, The Death of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, the joint production of Henry Chettle and Anthony Munday: Munday's authorship of these lines is therefore not quite certain. The play is reprinted in the 1874 edition (W. C. Hazlitt's) of Dodsley's Old Plays. PEELE Pp. 37, 38 — These two songs are from The Arraignment of Paris., a "pastoral " performed before O. Elizabeth in 1584. GREENE Pp. 39-45 — The Eclogue, Menaphon's Roundelay and Song, are out of his Menaphon, afterwards called Arcadia; Infida's Song from Never too late; Sweet Content from his Fareivell to Folly. Line 7 of Doron and Carmela is corrected by Dyce to — Thine eyes are like the glowworms : but the whole Eclogue is burlesque, and not to be reconciled with common sense. P. 41 — Infida's Song. The burden Englished thus : — Sweet Adon ! darest not glance thine eye — Will you not dare ? my pretty friend ! Upon thy Venus that must die ? I pray you, let your scorn have end ! (pity me !) Will you not dare ? my fair ! my fair 1 Will you not dare ? my pretty friend ! I have accented /;'/, r5 — Fair Summer. Sung in Su77t7ner''s Last Will a7id Testa77ie7it : Dodsley's Old Plays. Hazlitt (W. C.) gives in the first stanza Go not yet away, and Go 7iot yet hence in the second. MARKHAM p_ ^7 _ Simples. From a play by Markham and Sampson, NOTES 239 therefore given to Markham with some doubt. But Gervase, or (as he signs his name) Jervis Markham deserves especial remembrance for his '•'■Tragedy'''' of Sir Richard Grenville^ a full and particular account of that most daring of sea-fights, Grenville's action off Florez, in 1591 : written in 174 stanzas of eight lines, not without poetic merit, however overwrought and high-flown. A brief extract may show its form. When Grinuile saw his desperate drierie case ; Gallants (he saith) since three a clock last noone, Vntill this morning, fifteene houres by course, We haue maintaind stoute warre, and still vndoone Our foes assaults, and driue them to the worse. Fifteene Armados boardings haue not wonne Content or ease, but beene repeld by force. Eight hundred cannon shot against our side Haue not our harts in coward colours died. Not fifteene thousand men araungd in fight And fifteene hovvers lent them to atchiue, With fifty three great ships of boundlesse might Haue had no meanes or prowesse to contriue The fall of one, which mayden vertue dight Kept in despight of Spanish force aliue. Then list to mee you imps of memorie ; Borne to assume to immortalitie. DONNE Pp. 58-60 — Campbell chose the Break of Day, sufficient imprimatur, one would think, and assurance against neglect by later collectors ; Emerson disinterred the Undertaking. its theme perhaps too exalted for general appreciation ; every one has missed the Funeral. Cramped as these songs are by Donne's quaint pedantry, they are true poetry. With all his faults, Donne stands above the crowd in our anthologies. 240 NOTES JONSON Pp. 61-79 — The Epithalamion is the close of a Masque "on occasion of Lord Haddington's marriage at Court, on the Shrove Tuesday at night," 1608. If I freely is in the play of The Poetaster J Her Man, "described by her own dicta- men," In the person of Womankind — a song apologetic, Begging Another, and His Excuse for Loving, are all from his collection of poems called U7idei'ivoods, the neglect of which is specially noticed, but is not revenged, by Trench. In the person of Womankind is given by Campbell. Note what a full Shaksperian flavour is in the Satyrs' Song, from Oberon! What song but Ariel's will dare to match with it? Her Glove, sometimes called The Glove of the Dead Lady, is from the play of Cynthia's Revels. Here — lines 5, 6, Dyce follows the old reading — wear thee, bare thee. Margaret Ratcliffe makes an acrostic. The Song of Night is in the Vision of Delight, a masque. DAVISON Pp. 71-76 — To Urania and her Answer are by Francis ; the other poems may be by either of the brothers. They are from Davison's Poetical Rhapsody, first printed in 1602, and containing poems by Raleigh, Watson, Sylvester, and others named, besides many anonymous pieces. P. 71 — Sir Egerton Brydges, followed by Sir Harris Nicolas, in the last stanza, or staff, of the poem to Urania has their ire. Ellis gives five stanzas of the poem, omitting the fourth, and calls it Sirephoji's Palinode. P. 74 — Upon her protesting. Nicolas here adopts other readings : stanza 2, lines 2, 3, — Or face well-form'd and fair — Or long, heart-binding hair ; Stanza 3, line 3 — Or your enchanting grace. NOTES 241 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER P. J J — Tell me ! is by Fletcher. Of this two versions are extant : that I have given, from the play of The Captain, and one in The Knight of the Biirnitig Pestle. Instead of 'Tis a grave, &c. in the first stanza, the copy there has : — She — 'Tis a smile Doth beguile He — The poor hearts of men that prove. And the second stanza also reads differently, as follows : — He — Tell me more ! Are women true ? She — Some love change, and so do you. He — Are they fair and never kind ? She — Yes ! when men turn with the wind. He — Are they froward ? She — Ever toward Those that love to love anew. The third stanza is wanting. Here Dyce has ■wise for wiser. P. 80 — Hymn to Pan. Dyce (edition 1846) has — From that place the morn is broke : which is ungrammatical nonsense. Whei^e morning broke, I have no doubt, gives Fletcher's meaning, though these very words be not his. He certainly wrote fair English. Another and often quoted Song to Pan — "All ye woods and trees" is in the same most beautiful of all pastoral comedies, Fletcher's Faitlifiil Shepherdess. The other four Songs may probably be by Beaumont : the Wedding Song in The Maid's Tragedy, the Dance Song in A Masque of the Middle Temple. BURTON P.Z\. This poem is prefixed to his Anatomy of M elancholy . DRUMMOND 73.85 — Sextain. 6"////, old usage, for since. The same in Death not feared, p. 86 ; and in the Madrigal at p. 246. 242 NOTES P. 87 — Sweet Rose. To rhyme with kiss'd in the last line I have bliss' d, instead oi bless' d: the same meaning. P. 88 — A DAEDAL OF MY DEATH. Turnbull's edition, 1856, copying the Edinburgh edition of 1616, has — Now I resemble that subtle worm on earth Which, prone to its own evil, can take no rest : two lines devoid of rhythm. Rescuing the rhyme restores the sense. Semble, though out of use, is a good dictionary word, as likely a word as semblance or seniblaiit, used by Spenser. Uneath (rhyming with death) is uneasy, here taken as restless : also Spenserian. " The field is eath to win," Gascoigne writes; and Fairfax, in his Tasso — Who thinks him most secure is eathiest shamed. /// was, I think, more often used than evil by old writers. FIELD P. 88 — Matin Song. All the copies have — And ignorance, darker than night. WEBSTER P. 89. From that most noble nor less powerful tragedy, The Duchess of Malfy. BROWNE P. 90. From the Second Book of Britannia's Pastorals. HERRICK P. 91 — The Hesperides is so rich in jewelry, that the most careless selection can hardly be unsatisfactory. Yet being so rich, there might have been more independent taste. One is led to ask how much of popular favouritism even in literature is, like fashion in clothes, due to dictation of the purveyors. P. 93 — Pansies : pejisces (French), thoughts. " Pansies for thouglits," says Ophelia. Drayton gives our more commonly used English name :^ The pansy heart's ease maidens call. NOTES 243 BRATHWAITE /*. 96. Or Brathwait. "A noted %vit and poet;" his writings " were numerous." So Ellis, giving two samples of his verse : this, which is also entitled Care's Owe, " from Panedone, or Health fro7}t Helicon, 1621 ; " and a fragment, of like quality, from his Shepherd's Tales. Callet is scold. In line 2 of the first stanza Ellis prints — Take the world as it is. In line 3 of the fourth stanza he has slop-wise for slope-wise. And in line 3 of the fifth stanza — [Where] lesser flies are quickl)' ta'en. GOFFE />. ^8 — To Sleep. Stoddard, in his choice but insufficiently known Melodies and Madrigals, 1866, has line 5 — Morpheus, be kind a little and be. SHIRLEY P. 100 — Hue and Cry. From his Poems. In his play of The Witty Fair One I find another version, here subjoined. IN LOVE'S NAME you are charged hereby To make a speedy hue and cry After a face, who t' other day Came and stole my heart away. For your directions, in brief, These are best marks to know the thief. Her hair, a net of beams, would prove Strong enough to captive Jove, Playing the eagle ; her clear brow Is a comely field of snow ; A sparkling eye, so pure a grey As when it shines it needs no day ; Ivory dwelleth on her nose ; Lilies married to the rose Have made her cheek the nuptial bed ; 244 NOTES Her lips betray their virgin red, As they only blush'd for this, That they one another kiss : But observe ! beside the rest, You shall know this felon best By her tongue, — for if your ear Shall once a heavenly music hear. Such as neither gods nor men But from that voice shall hear again, That, that is She : O take her t' ye ! None can rock heaven asleep but she. P. 102 — Song to Hymen. In line 6 Dyce prints chafe for chase. Has / been mis-set for the old-fashioned long f, and escaped the printer's reader ? Chafe does not seem right. HABINGTON P. 104 — Qui quasi flos egreditur (Who cometh up as a flower) : from the Third Part of Castara : a homily on the text — fob, 14, 2. How beautifully turned into a compliment at the close ! P. 105 — Fine Young Folly Campbell gives to Etheridge, but it is printed in Habington's Queen of Arragon, a " tragi- comedie," published in 1640; the poet Etheridge was born in 1C36. If written by an Etheridge, it must have been an elder, under whom Richard Edwards, known as a " deviser of" and a contributor to The Paradise of Dainty Devices., is said to have studied music. In the last line for Bcdlain might we not rather read Beldam — belle dame ? SUCKLING P. 113 — A Ballad of a Wedding. I have found this in Witi^s Recreations, a selection "from the Finest Fancies of Modern Muses" 1654, where (Iieaded with a coarse wood-cut of two waggoners, as if it had been first published as a street NOTES 245 song) it appears as " a Discourse between two countrymen." Hazlitt (W. C.) thinks it was addressed to Suckling's friend Richard Lovelace. It may have been so : but the Dick of the ballad is my fellow-waggoner. The "two countrymen" must not be lost sight of. It is for that reason I retain those little nice touches of rusticity,— w//^ and vorty ior folk and forty, Widson for Whitsnn. They add a charm of true-semblance which is lost in the exchange for politer verbiage. Indeed one noticeable beauty of the ballad is the rare mixture of courtly grace with country manners : the " countryman " not boorish, and the courtier a true waggoner. Hard by (second stanza) is the street still known as the Hay-market. Course-a-park I take to be the name of some village dance or game. The Ballad has been printed incorrectly in the first edition of Suckling's Works, 1646; and the text is also corrupt in two editions issued by Jacob Tonson, 1709, 1719: "GodB'w'y'!" (so printed in \(i^i,— God be with ye ! confused with kisses) becoming Good Boy. Ellis' copy agrees generally with mine ; though he too accepts the Good Boy. Against all versions I venture to print best in line 3 of the third stanza for 7'est: the bridegroom's place not being first in the procession, but first of the best. He would hardly be spoken of as " amongst the rest" and at the same time " before the rest." Perhaps also, Suckling may have used a better rhyming /<3;i:^ in stanza 18: the last line on p. 116. The selectors seem to have been afraid of giving the whole of this most delicious ballad, a ballad " of twenty-two incom- parable verses, of wonderful brightness and sweetness," fairly so described by Mr. Gosse in his excellent introduction of the poet, in Ward's English Poets. Even there we have sixteen only of the " incomparable verses," one as of old incorrect and out of place ; and what is yet worse, the fragment printed as if whole, without notice of excision except the few words I quote, not necessarily seen by readers of the Ballad. But the 246 NOTES omitted stanzas may (my readers can judge for themselves) be " not in harmony with modern manners," as Mr. Palgrave so prettily phraseth it, and as some Rev. Mr. Suckling would seem also to have imagined, who gives with a Memoir of the Poet only the usual sixteen stanzas, without note or apology. A fastidiousness scarcely honest while Shakspere, not yet out of harmony, is on every gentleman's table. P. 119 — A Health. I confess my own liability to reproach for altering this pearl of the wine-cup toward modern liking. The penultimate line in each stanza displaces one — the same in all three stanzas by Suckling : which a poetical reader will easily restore. P. 120 — Barley-break needs explanation. It was a game played by six persons, three of each sex, coupled by lot. The play-ground was divided into three, the middle part was Hell. The couple first condemned, holding hands, tried to catch the other couples running across the middle ground, the pursued being allowed to separate if too hard pressed. Jamieson, in his Etyinological Dictionary, speaks of the game, played in Scotland with a dule, or goal, in a stack-yard. At barley-break her sweet swift foot to try says Sidney, describing the game in a long poem in Arcadia. Among Morley's Madrigals also we find one upon it. LOVE'S FOLK in green arraying At barley-break were playing: Laura in Hell was caught ; Then, O how Dorus laught, And said — Good Mistress ! sith you Will thither, needs have with you ! Notice here the rhyming of caught and laught ! RUTTER Pp. xii-"}). Two Songs from The SJiepherds' Holiday, ior which see Dodsley's OldPlays,\Y. C. Hazlitt's edition, 1875. NOTES 247 Virgin/led — virginity. So in Spenser is found maidenhed for maidenhood, droivsyhedior drowsiness, &c. CRASHAW P. 124 — Wishes. Another of the always mutilated poems: the length of this perhaps sometimes an excuse. Ward omits twenty-six of the forty-two triplets ; but, except in two cases, honestly marks where the omissions occur. Palgrave, besides arbitrarily transposing stanzas, omits twenty-one, not pointing where : content with informing us that he has " attempted to bring it within the limits of lyrical unity! " So others. My copy is from the third edition of Crashaw's Delights of the Mtises, 1670 ; but compared with Dr. Grosart's Complete Works of Crashaw, 1872. I find in both : — Meet you her, my wishes, (a syllable too much for the measure) : Which to no boxe his being owes : Blushes that bin (rhyming to the eye as well as to the ear) : Vertue their mistresse, (from which, I judge, a word has been dropped) : 'Bove all, nothing within that lowers (the modern spelling, lours, more exact to the meaning) ; Whose merit dare apply it. LOVELACE P. 129 — The Grasshopper. The Chiswick reprint (1818), which I followed in my Golden Apples of Hesperus, for ear, in the first line, has hair, perhaps to better suit the beard in the second. I have since thought that Lovelace would write ear : though no more correct botanically, as the oat does not grow like wheat in ears, but in spikelets. A strange piece of criticism on this poem, stranger from so accomplished a critic as Mr. Gosse, prefaces the eight stanzas given in Ward. Mr. Gosse writes what follows. " In the curious verses entitled The Grasshopper, of which we shall 248 NOTES presently give all that is intelligible, we seem to possess an instance of his hurried and jejune mode of composition. He commences by addressing the grasshopper, in lines of unusual dignity and preg- nancy, but he presently forgets this, and without sign of transition, recommences ' Thou best of men and friends,' this time plainly ad- dressing the friend, Charles Cotton, to whom the ode was sent. It is difficult to believe that he ever himself read over his lines, for it could not fail to occur to him, had he done so, that the same object could not be spoken to as ' Poor verdant fool' and as ' Thou best of men and friends.' " Ward's English Poets : vol. 2, p. 183. The same object is not so spoken to. Having described the brief summer joys of the grasshopper, poor verdant fool, now only green ice, and pointed the moral for us, to " lay in 'gainst winter," he turns naturally to his friend Cotton. Thou best of men and friends! he says, we will not be content with such grasshopper joys ; we " will create a genuine summer in each other's breast, and, spite of this cold time, our sacred hearths shall burn eternally." Whereupon most appropriately follows the other omitted as "unintelligible" stanza — Dropping December shall come weeping in : his ice-crown melting off at the cheerful fireside warmth, but reconciled and recrowned, a king again, wath the brightness of their classic talk. How could Mr. Gosse, himself a poet, miss so obvious an understanding ? Did he not remember the Sidneian showers Of sweet discourse, whose powers Can crown old Winter's head with flowers ? P. 130. Ward, not using a capital to Vestal (stanza 7) loses its full meaning : not only virgin flames, but the never-extin- guished fire in Vesta's temple. In the next line the omission of a comma gives us the absurd image of a dissolving jEtna. Are these small things ? They show how easily texts can be obscured. They indicate perhaps that commas and capitals, whether of printer or editor, can not always be depended on. NOTES 249 MARVELL P. 136 — Clorinda and Damon. In line 8 vade, from the Latin vadet-e, to depart; " useful in poetry, but not received," says Dr. Johnson. Used by Shakspere, as distinct ixovafade. Brathvvaite again marks the difference : — Thy form 's divine, no fading vading flower. P. 138. Our Pan's quire: old spelling for choir, as quirister for chorister. Dear quirister ! writes Drummond. BROME P. 142 — Beggars' Song. Pemore — hinder : a word I can not find in another author ; nor in the chctionaries. It is from the Latin, Pemora, the name of a fish supposed " to stick to ships and retard their progress." Milton makes it English : The sum is, they thought to limit or take away the remora of his negative voice. Richard Brome was the author of fifteen plays : his brother, Alexander, of one. VAUGHAN 'P. 143 — Epithalamium. From " Olor Iscaitus, a collection of select poems and translations by Henry Vaughan, Silurist^ published by a friend, 165 1." Ellis gives three broken stanzas, apologizing for their " too much quaintness and conceit." The second stanza in my copy has he and his. I hesitated before altering this (for all the strangeness of a he Rose and a she Sun), for the author may have so written. The pronouns are often confused in these old texts. HALL P. 147 — Epitaph. From Poems of John Hall of Durham. 1646, reprinted at Longman's Private Press, 1846. FLETCHER P. 148. Of whom I find nothing except the date of 1656 to a small volume of Translations from Martial, Epigrams, &c. 2 50 NOTES FLECKNOE P. 149. Who had some poetic gift, notwithstanding Dryden. Chloris is in a little book, containing also his " Diariutii or Journal, divided into 12 Jornadas, in burlesque rhyme or drol- ling verse," 1656. BULTEEL P. 150. Ritson speaks of him as secretary to Clarendon. He was the author of one play, Amorojis Oricntus, or The Love hi fashion. Campbell gives a song by him. The one I give should perhaps have had place among the poems by authors unknown, coming in " a collection written by several persons, never printed before" (156 pp.), lettered on the back and also written inside — " by John Bultiel." 1674. TOTTEL'S MISCELLANY The first edition of this earliest of collections has for all title: SONGS AND SONETTES writtett by the ryght honorable Lorde He7iry Howard late Earl of Sur- rey, and other. Apud Richardwn Toticl, 1557. Cuvi frivilcgio. This first edition, published June 5, contains 36 poems by Surrey, 90 by Wyatt, 40 by Grimaold ; and 95 by " uncertain authors," — of which last two are attributable to Vaux, one to Heywood (that I have printed at p. 3), and one to Somerset. The second edition, July 31 in this same year 1557, contains 39 additional poems by anonymous writers. My selection is mainly from the first 95, only the last three from those added. The book was reprinted, carefully edited by Arber, in 1S70. Pp. 153-4 — The Mean Estate happiest. Arber has — Rule is enmy to quietness. That quite nights he had more slept NOTES 251 P. 155 — Love's Disdainer. The second and fourth lines of the third stanza give sanght and laught as rhymes ; in the fifth stanza are caught and laught; and in the last caught and taught. Was laught pronounced hard ? P. 158 — Promise of a Constant Lover. Tenc — grief, grievous trouble ; let — hindrance. In place of let Arber has thret : but he has also threite in the second line. I but guess it should be let. However, the poet himself may be in fault. Spenser has the identical duphcation: in canto xi, stanza 21, of The Legend of Holiness : — When wintry storm his wrathful wreck does threat — Then 'gin the blustering brethren boldly threat. And canto vi, stanza 36, new with knew, and r^^^with red: That m his armour bare a croslet red — To tell the sad sight which mine eies have red. Let it be confessed that all our difficulties are not chargeable to the printer. P. 160 — Of the Choice of a Wife. In Tottel — Gives first the cause why men to heare delight, And }'et not so content, they wish to see. That, in third line of third stanza, is used for what. Pp. 161-2 — Others preferred. In Tottel — The worse I speed the longer I watch. Since my will is at others lust. That helpeth them, lo ! cruelty doth me kill. In the first edition of Tottel this is attributed to Wyatt ; in the second placed among the uncertain. Is this the only one too hastily attributed ? Were these collecting publishers worthy of much trust ? Was it all fish in their nets ? P. 162 — No Joy have I. Relesse is release ; lesse, loss. P. 163 — Of the Golden Mean. Guie may be guide : ne is nor ; wo7ines — inhabits ; ruing — perhaps only a misprint for rising; one self Jove — one same, one self-same Jove ; by course — in turn; ''suage — assuage (elision not infrequent). 252 NOTES P. 164 — The Praise of a True Friend. Reave — reive, bereave; eke — also. These last three pieces come together in the Miscellany, and seem to be by one hand. I had hardly thought them worth giving but for the construction of verse. THE PARADISE OF DAINTY DEVICES, first appeared in 1576, purporting to be "devised and written for the most part by M. Edwards, sometime of her Majestie's Chappel ; the rest by sundry learned gentlemen both of honour and worshippe." Richard Edwards died in 1566. Was it the clever publisher's device ? — this putting his name, he, as Ellis tells us, " being much esteemed for the variety of his talents, at once the best fiddler, mimic, and sonneteer, of the Court." An able composer also of church music and madrigals. His name very taking on a title-page. But "written for the most part." There are 100 poems in the first edition: only eieveft of which are attributed to Edwards. In the edition of 1580 is an Appendix with 25 more, two by Edwards. In 1576 ten of the poems have M. Edwards subscribed ; one (at our p. 168) has M. Edwardes May superscribed. In the Appendix, four years later, there is a Reply to M. Edwards Jlfay; and in the same a rejoinder to that (surely not by Edwards, then dead fourteen years), Maister Edwards his I ?nay not. Finding no other testimony, the doubtful look of this leads me to class " M. Edwards'" writings with those of authors uncertain. P. 168 — May. In the British Bibliography of Brydges and Hazlewood this is printed in three stanzas of six lines each. P. 165 — Life's Stay. All but the first two lines in Dana's Household Book of Poetry. He mis-dates it 17th century. BYRD'S SONGS P. 169 — Right Carefulness. This is generally given to Byrd ; but I can find no authority to justify the gift. William Byrd, born about 1545, was a musician. Till 1588, says Oliphant in his Musa Madrigalesca, he seems "to have NOTES 253 confined himself to the composition of sacred songs, motets, &c. to Latin words; but when about that time an importation of lighter strains arrived from Italy, he found it advisable to follow the new fashion." Byrd himself calls his first collection of Psalms and Sonnets the " first printed work of mine in English," meaning, I suppose, his first music with English words. The words Out of M. Birds Set Songs, in England's Helicon, I think, only imply that he wrote the music. These Set Songs I take to be his Songs ofsimdrie 7iatures, 47 in all, " some of gravitie and others of mirth, fit for all companies and voyces, lately made and composed into musick of three, four, five and six parts, and published for the delight of all such as take pleasure in the exercise of that art. Imprinted at London by Thomas Este, the Assigne of William Byrd, 1589." There is nothing to affirm a claim as poet. P. 171 — Love's Arrows. In Colliers Lyrical Poems — There careless thoughts are freed of that flame. P. 172 — The Herd-man's Happy Life. Ellis has — And fortune's favours scorning. In Englattd's Helicon it is — And Fortune's fate not fearing. Presumptuous and siimptuous, with the different sounds of s, rhyme well, p. 173. Ellis does not give this stanza. />. 175 — Brown is my Love and Cynthia are from Byrd's Musica Transalpitia : free translations probably. Cynthia, writes Oliphant, " is quite unintelligible and sets all the rules of common sense at defiance." He may well think so, with a semicolon ending the second line. Yet I conceive there is no lack of either sense or grammatical correctness. Cynthia ! of Syrens the most commended, for that thou neither killest nor woundest, thy song awaketh in gentle hearts Surely he is a dull reader who can not understand this. The music may require luanton Love inaketh ; but Love -wanton viaketh had been better reading. Ohphant quotes it to praise the music. 254 NOTES THE PHCENIX NEST " Built up with the most rare and refined works of Noblemen, Worthy Knights, Gallant Gentlemen, Masters of Arts, and brave schollers, — full of varietie, excellent monition, and sin- gular delight : never before published. Set forth by R. S. of the Inner Temple, Gentleman, 1593." The first poem in it is Roydon's noble elegy on Sidney. Peele, Watson, Lodge, and others, were contributors. Reprinted in Park's Helico7iia. P. 176 — The Anatomy of Love. In the Phoenix Nest it is A Description of Love: my title is that given in Davison's Poetical Rhapsody, 1602. It is anonymous in both : though ascribed to Raleigh in a MS. list of Davison's. In Ejiglattd's Helicon, 1600, it had appeared, the signature obliterated, as The Shepherd'' s Description of Love : in a dialogue between Meliboeus and Faustus : beginning — Shepherd! what's love? 1 pray thee tell. But the occasional shepherd is the chief difference. Hannah gives for the last line — And shepherd ! this is love, I trow. While Nicolas has it — And this is some sweet friend, I trow. Sain is said. The sauncing, sacring, or saints' bell is a small bell used in the Romish Church to call attention to the more solemn parts of the service of the Mass, as at the conclusion when the priest repeats the words Sancte sancte sancte, Deus Sabaoth ! Also at the elevation of the Host. P. 177 — To Night. In Park's Heliconia, 181$, pieasj/ res ends both first and third lines. Campbell, in his Specimens, 1 84 1, has pleasure and treasure : — There 's none but only thou can guide me to my treasure : contradicting the later line — Let them that miss the way be guided by thy light I The second stanza Campbell omits. Both he and Park have Hold in thy horns for shining. NOTES 255 DOWLAND'S SONG BOOKS John Dowland, Bachelor in Musick and Lutenist to the King of Denmark, born about 1562, published between 1596 and 1603 three Books of Songs, Airs in four parts with tableture for the lute. P. 179 — The Lover's Despair. Flowers of spifie — thorn flowers. So in Fletcher — Roses, their sharp spines being gone. Collier in his Lyrical Poems prints — Alas like flowers of Spain Thy graces rorie be : with a note, suggesting spine for Spain : seeing " no reason why flowers of Spain should be more deivy than those of other countries." But, are flowers of spine more dewy than others? And what are dewy graces? He took rorie for granted : and it will be found in the dictionaries, " from the Latin 7'os roris, the dew." As authority, Webster cites Fairfax : — And sliook his wings with rory may-dews wet. Dewy dews ? The dew on the pink-edged May-bloom would be rosy. Rorie, or rory, looks like a misprint in each of the above instances. Are there any more ? Did the dictionary- maker, dropping on the word, discover an etymology to suit? P. 181, /. 2 — Love and Sorroav. Collier would here alter hurt to heart; but the context shows hin-t to be right. P. 181 — Serenade. In England^s Helicon also, "taken out of Maister John Dowland's Tableture for the Lute." P. 183 — To Cynthia. Also in the Helicon, from Dowland, with " the Author's name not there set downe." On support of a copy " signed IV. S." having been found at Hamburg, in an English common-place book, it has been supposed that it was written by Shakspere. It has rather the trick of Raleigh, and is more worthy cf him than most of the poems called his. P, the second stroke faint or defaced, might be taken for S. \ 256 NOTES P. 184 — Weep you no more! And whose this lovehest of songs ? Worth especial notice is the beautiful close of each stanza (too easily spoiled by wrong punctuation) — That now lies sleeping softly, Now softly lies, Sleeping. P. 185 — White as Lilies. Quiiing^ requiting. Collier has Quitting faith with foul disgrace. Careless of my bitter groaning, From her scant neglect proceeding. Should reward their friends as foemen. And for the last line, wanting in the original, suggests — First to love, then leave forlorn. But there is no first-loving in the song. P. 187 — Eyes and Hearts. Collier has — Makes our fraile pleasures eternall and in sweetness prove ; Are still with sorrow declining unto deep annoies. If all one soul must love. By faith and merit united, can not remove ; Distracted spirits Ten thousand beauties, yet in us one should be. Surely, if dependence upon old texts can give us such results, we had better discharge our Dryasdust, be he printer's reader or editor, and trust the likeHhood of common sense : it seems not altogether lacking in these early writers, in even the most careless of them. How pertinent here Collier's own remark: " Literal errors in the words to songs have been frequent from the earliest to the latest times ; " and " woeful blunders trans- mitted to us in many of the productions of the poets." P. 1 89 — The Hermit's Song. Two lines close each stanza: "conveyed" by Dowland from a song in Sidney's Arcadia. O sweet woods the delight of solitariness : O how much do I love your solitariness ! Clearly they do not belong to the subject nor accord with the " sad groves " and " place of mourning ; " but may have been NOTES 257 appropriated to fit a lively change in the music? May we not regard it as a sample of the liberties taken by our musicians? Wanstead House, near London, was a seat of the Earl of Leicester. Here Sidney wrote his masque. The Lady of the May, on occasion of a visit of Queen Elizabeth, in 1578. Was Raleigh retired there during some season of her displeasure ? There is a look of him about this song, not unlike the lines to Cynthia; and what mistress but Majesty should appoint his place of retirement ? Wanstead ! my Mistress saith this is the doom. "The mention of Wanstead," writes Collier, "shows that the piece, whatever it might be, whether play, masque, or other entertainment of a dramatic kind, was performed there." But the lines give no indication of their being part of anything. P. 190 — Love and Fortune. I place this with the Songs from Dowland's Books, first finding it there ; a more correct copy appears (quite out of place) in Newman's 4to edition of Sidney. Collier reprints both : the Dowland version in 1844, in his Lyrical Poems ; and the Newman version in 1865, in a note, in his Bibliographical Catalogue of early English Lit- eratU7'e, introducing it with these words — " We are not sure whether the sprightly lines here imputed to the Earl of Oxford have ever been reprinted in modern times." Dowland omits the second stanza, and gives the third as here follows. Fortune sweares weakest harts, The booke of Cupid's darts, Tunie with hir wheele. Sences sometimes shall prove, Venture hir place in love, Aske them that feele. [CoUier's Lyrical Poems, printed for the Percy Society, p. 82; Bibl. Cat., vol. I, pp. 45-6.] Venter — the belly. Fortune is speaking sneeringly. She may mean that mere condition of body is sometimes occasion 258 NOTES of love, irrespective of any diviner incitement. Such seems to be also the sense in Dowland : but both the texts are obscure, and both most probably corrupt. P. 194 — The Pedlar's Song. Collier, following Dowland, has pinnes points, laces and gloves. I think the pedlar was selling, not pins' points, but pins and points. K point, in my time even, in country places, was the name of a small tool for making holes in cloth, linen, &c., "eyes" for hooks to catch in. MADRIGALS P. 195. Defiance to Love is suspected to be by Drayton. I so gave it among my Golden Apples. Not finding it in his collected works, I place it here under the Uncertain Authors. My Dainty Darling and other words with Morley's music may be his also. Morley was the first Englishman to i^roduce a " Book of Balletts" (mistaken by Collier to mean Ballads). Ballets were songs set to music to be danced to. Fear is old usage for frighten, as in Shakspere — For Warwick was a bug that fcar'd us all. P. 196 — False Clarinda. Relying, or leaning ; persever, an old form of persevere. Very unsatisfactory the text (I do not attempt to mend it) of the second stanza, a stanza not in the Helicon copy. P. 197— False Dorus. In England'' s Helicon as " Lycoris the nymph, her sad song." In last line of Daphne yfr^ is a dissyllable, as in Sidney. Oliphant praises John Wilbye as the best of the madrigal composers. P. 19S — The Jewel. Surely this is fragmentary: odd lines chosen for the air. Probably many of our old madrigals are no more : what suited the composer, or altered to suit. P. 199 — Love me not for comely grace. Ellis has it — Love not me. In line 8 I have well for still. Our poets were not scant of words, and even unmusical copyists are careless. NOTES 259 />. 201 — Hold out, my Heart ! At first thought a rhyme seems wanted lofie ; but I would rather conclude that it was wilfully omitted by the author. Only transposing say and cry would give the rhyme; but is not the ear better satisfied with the recurring sounds within the lines ? His full rewarding, i. e. his love's. Weelkes was organist of Chichester Cathedral. P. 205 — A Mistress described appears to be founded on, and more than the thought borrowed from, Heywood, p. 3. P. 206 — Since first I saw your face. Of this the first and third stanzas are often sung as a " Madrigal," but Hullah (who gives the fourth in brackets, as if doubtful) writing of such music says — " The vocal compositions of John Dowland, often incorrectly called madrigals, are for the most part songs with accompaniment for the Lute, or for three other voices. Though a contemporary of the great English madrigal writers, Dowland was not one of them. His compositions, like those of Forde, belong rather to the school of which, in England, Henry Lawes (Milton's friend) was the most accomphshed master." [Notes to Hullah's Song Book, pp. 354-5.] Excellent the music, and yet more note-worthy the perfect accord of words and music, of this, the choicest of madrigals or songs. I would fain believe that Forde wrote both, though there is only the internal evidence of its likelihood. P. 207 — The Right of Beauty. Words, as well as music, of this and other pieces have always been given to Campion, on the ground of their appearing as his in Davison's Poetical Rhapsody. Campion, says Ellis, was a physician, and also, adds Nicolas, famous for musical and poetical talent. And he is spoken of in connection with Watson as a good Latin poet. Two Books of Airs were composed by him. Four poems are set down as his in the Rhapsody. Probably these composers (he likeliest) did sometimes write words for their own music, but what really belongs to them as poets remains uncertain. 26o NOTES P. 208 — Deuteromelia is the first, Pammelia the second, and Melismata the third, in a series of " Pleasant Rounde- lays, Delightful Catches, Freemen's Songs," &c., put forth by Thomas Ravenscroft. Was our Three Poor Mariners the original, or an imitation, of the better known song in the same collection ? — We be Soldiers three : Fardona moy, je vous an pree ! Lately come forth of the Low Countrie, With never a penny of money. Pp. 208-9 — The Three Ravens. Words and music, says Chappell, as early as Henry the eighth. In the Twa Corbies., a Scottish version of this (which is the elder ?), copied from Ritson in Scott's Bo?-der Minstrelsy, hound, hawk, and lover forsake the dead knight. Is eartJien lake the grave ; or is it Spenser's "lethe" or "limbo lake," which is under the earth ? Leman is lady-love. The burthen, or refrain, With a down, &c., follows every two lines. ENGLAND'S HELICON Or The Muses' Har7nony : the first edition in 1600 with 150, the second in 1614 with 159 pieces, by the best Elizabethan poets: the richest and most varied of all the early collections. Here are the poems signed Ignoto, too hastily supposed to be by Raleigh. I have already taken of its contents. P. 210 — Phillida and Corydon. In the Helicon entitled Phillida's Love-call to her Corydon and his Replying. Say, in French sale, is a thin kind of serge. P. i\i — Beauty sat bathing. To Colin Clout in Helicon; Shepherd Tonie is guessed to be Anthony Munday. DAVISON'S POETICAL RHAPSODY Pp. 112,-17 — A.W. has baulked all inquirers. Not meaning disrespect to any, one can hardly refrain from observing that A. IV. might hide Anonymous Writer. The first edition of NOTES 261 the Rhapsody appeared in 1602 ; it was enlarged in 1608, and again in 161 1 ; and re-arranged in 1621. Reprinted in 1814, at Lee Priory, by Sir Egerton Brydges. See Davison, p. 240. P. 218 — If Wrong by force. In Sir Harris Nicolas' reprint in 1826, he remarks that in the third edition a stanza omitted from the earlier editions had been added to The Anatomy of Love. Plainly not belonging to that, he removes it to a note. Further consideration would have shown him that, it is part (misplaced, I think, in making up the pages) of the following poem — If Wrong by force. I give it as the third stanza. Pp. 219, 20 — On A Beautiful Virgin. Trench omits the last triplet ; and calls it A Pagan Epitaph. Agen — again. P. 221 — Phillada. Author and date not known : but the air is referred to as "a new tune" in The Crown Garland of Poses, 1612. In Walton's Complete Angler we find — Milkwoman ! what song was it .' I pray. Was it " Come, Shepherds ! deck your heads ! " or " As at noon Dulcina rested," or " Phillada flouts me," or " Chevy Chase," or " Johnny Armstrong," or " Troy Town".' My version mainly adheres to Ellis, who refers to a poetical miscellany, /-F// 7?