'€S I MB ,''^. i)a«^S^on 1f5<: Ciuiit V. i H v^ LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE Ex Libris ISAAC FOOT fOo 1^0 lEliEabetban- ^onigs OvcK Karirvonv 13 in immort2s>l sov/ls"ss»» AXERCMANTOF VENICE! fj ?e5-COPlC5-ONLY-0r-Tni5' BOOK-PRIINTLD-ONJAPAIN ^|Q < PAPER^TmS-COPY-lS-NUn- HouemiO-Btautie' (Boiicctc^'ani . . Thomas Cavipiofi Beaumont and Fletcher Ben Jonson . . . Abraliam Cowley Edvumd Waller . William Habington Shakespieare . ■ William Browne John Lyly . . . Robert Herrick . Shakespeare • . Richard Lovelace James Shirley Robert Herrick . John H aryngt07i Edmund Waller . Shakespeare . ■ Sir John Suckling- Thomas Carew Ye blushing virgins happy are ... William Habiiigton Ye have been fresh and green Robert Herrick . . Ye little birds that sit and sing Thomas Heytvood ■ You little stars that live in skies . • . Fnlke Greville (Lord Brooke) You that think love can convey Thomas Carew ■ You that will a wonder know Thomas Carew . . PAGE 133 J05 46 III 79 173 152 70 •54 36 107 99 8S 108 176 '56 163 82 ■35 >5 '45 72 171 150 ■38 3 •SS 65 165 120 160 139 61 22 126 129 ^''- lLLf:TkATI",^/j A: Dost thoic love pictures ? TAMING OF THE SlIREW. The illustratipiis, reproduced by photogravure, are from 'cvater- color drarvings. Six of them, decorative and evible7natic figures, are printed in sepia. They represent six characters, — Grace, Love, Harmony, Revel, Sport, and Laughter, — from a viasqne by Ben Jonson, written for a Christmas revel at the Court of James L in 1617. The fifty headings and tail-pieces are from pen-and-ink drawings. TO FACE PACE Salutation iv ®rac£ , . 2 "Pan's Syrinx was a girl indeed" .... 12 "I THAT did wear THE RING HER MOTHER LEFT" 20 ILobe 28 " Her EYES ARE SAPPHIRES SET IN SNOW " . . . 34 "N 'OSEREZ VOUS, MON BEL, AMI " 46 " I PRAY THEE, LOVE, LOVE ME NO MORE " . . . 54 xvii Hi^t of 3llu!^txation!^. TO FACE PAGE Jt^armong s8 " Come live with me and be my love "... 64 "When maidens bleach their summer smocks" 72 "Fain would I wake you, sweet" 84 EeijEl 90 "My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love" 98 "That was thy mistress, best of gloves" . 108 Sport 120 " So MAY YOU when THE MUSIC 'S DONE, AWAKE and see the rising sun " 1 26 "When thou dost play and sweetly sing" . 138 Eaugljter 150 "'TIS NOT your beauty can engage mv wary heart" 156 " I COULD NOT LOVE THEE, DEAR, SO MUCH, LOVED I NOT HONOUR MORE" 172 xvni Twelfth Night. \VvJ ^^^. ^ZP HY zvas tJie Elizabethan Age, and why were the ages that succeeded ElizabctJi, dozvn to the Restoration, so rich in song ; and why have later '[ periods been so poor? In this volume of selected verse the ivord ''Elizabethan"' is nsed in a wide sense: we come down as far as Waller, who died in 1686, and Herrick, ivlio died in 1674. The songs of the writers from Shakespeare to Waller sing themselves, as zue may say they have their own natural music, and like Philomel iji Homer pour forth their XIX on0jsf. is perhaps a question to be answered by musi- cians rather than by lovers of poetry. The divorce between Music ajid Poetry is prononnced. Most modern poets rather hate music than love it; most popular composers appear to dislike poetry. Of Victor Hugo we are told that he " especially detested the piano.'' Gautier called music " the most expejisive ajtd the least agree- able of noises." Of recent and living Eftglish poets, / fear only two have loved music well, — Mr. Broiuning, and Mr. Robert Bridges. Of these two, nobody would remark Mr. Browning as particularly skilled in verbal melodies ; thojigh there is a song iji ''Paracelsus" which seems to show that Mr. Brownitig zvrote in- harmonious verse by choice, and not because melody zcas beyond his genius. It seems, therefore., that modern poets, beijig unmusical, do not produce songs particularly well- suited for singing ; ivJiile we must assume that the older singers really ivrote for the purpose of being simg, and were themselves musicians and lovers of music. Yet even on this head we have xxii ^^nttoDuction, not always certainty ; for poets affect in their verse to like music, even thoiigJi they secretly share the sentiments of Victor Hugo. Yet our inclina- tion to believe in the true love of music among the Elizabethans is strengthened by the manner of their publication. It is from rare '' Books of Airs'' that Mr. Bullen has gathered the poems of Cajnpion, and of many others with ivJiicJi he has enriched our poetry. Campion Jumself wrote much of his own music in ''A Book of Airs" (1601). As he himself says, "/ have chiefly aimed to couple my words and notes lovingly together.'' " The lute O^pherian and base viol I " seem to have been ever in our ancestors' hands ; and the singiitg humor was thus strong in Walton's day, " zvheji," as the milk-woman says, " Yo7ing Coridon played so purely on his pipe to you and your cousin Betty T Not nozv shall we find milkmaids who knozv " Come, Shep- herds, deck your heads,"" or '' Phillida flouts me," or " yohuny Armstrong," or " Troy Tozun." Education is hostile to literature. The untaught country folk of Walton's age ivere familiar ivith xxiii €li5a£i0tl)an ^ong^. good poetry ; the instJ'ucted people of to-day sing music-hall trash, if they sing anything. By Test or Kennet no angler shall hear fair Maudlin chant that s^nooth song which was made by Kit Marlowe, now at least fifty years ago! Utopia is behind ns. The ast07iishing thing is that in the age of poetry, from 1570 to 1670, all the poets, tvith hardly an exception, were natural singers. That Shakespeare had this gift is no maj'vel, when once the miracle of his universality is granted. But Marlowe, and Beaumont and Fletcher, and the ponderously learned Ben jfonson, and the sombre Webster were all song-makers, — all had that lost inimitable art, that unconscious charm. The gift descended even to authors now un- known or unnoted, — to all who were " sealed of the tribe of Ben',' like " my son William Cart- wrigJif with his — " Hark, 7Hy Flora ! Love doth call us To that strife that jnnst befall us.'" It may be said that the tempests of our age have silenced song, as linnets are quiet before xxiv 3fntrotiuction» the storm. But tJie civil %vars did not qiiench the music of Suckling and Herrick, of Cartwright and Careiv. Prison and battle only inspire the muse of Lovelace y as in his — " If to be absent were to be Aivay from thee,'^ and this purest chant of spiritual affection, — " Above the highest sphere wee meet Unseene, unknozone, attd greet as angels greets Still his mind is full of love and beauty, as in " To Aniarantha, that she ivould dishevell her haire." These songs we learn from Lovelaces ^^ Lticasta" (1649) ^^^'^ "set" by Mr. Henry Lawes and Mr. John Laniere and Mr. Hudson and Dr. John Wilson ; and it was Mr. Thomas Charles who ''set" the gallant impertinence of — " Why should you sxvear I am forsworn Since thine I vow'd to be f Lady, it is already morn. And '/ was last night I swore to thee That fond impossibility T The music and the words, in all that age, were twins from the birth. I happen to have here XXV €li5a&etf)an ^ong^. " Poems, Sojigs, ajid Sonnets, together with a Masque, by Thomas Carew, Esq. The Fourth Edition. London, 1671." Some former owner lias written in an old hand on the fly-leaf, " The Songs set in Miisick in H. Lawess Ay res and Dialogues for One, Two, and Three Voyees." While music and verse thus lived inseparable, Carew, in an age long after the Elizabethan, could write — " Ask me no more where fove bestows. When June is past, the fading Rose," and — " He that loves a rosie cheek Or a coral lip admires. "" Herrick says little of music in his " Hesperides,'' save to complain that when — " The bad season makes the Poet sad,'" he is — " Dull to myself and almost dead to these My tnajty fresh and fragratit mistresses, Lost to all music now." But Herrick, too, retains that ElizabetJian lilt, as in the " Mad Maid s Sojig," — xxvi 3^ntrotiuctioiu " Good-morrow to the day so fair, Good-morroiv, sir, to you; Good- morrow to mine own torn hair. Bedabbled with the dew." Hcrrick gratefully addresses " Mr. Henry Lawes, the Excellent Composer of his Lyrics^' and zvhile praising him praises also ' ' raj^e Laniere," " rare Gotire," and " curious Wilson^ The songs of that century were never written, as lyrics nozv have long been zvritten, except for the purpose of being sung. They were meant for voices in masques or in plays, inter- ludes of music in dance or in action ; or they were such nuptial songs and cpitJmlamies as the manners of fra7ik and joyous people required. Thus our lyric poetry of that period answered, in its way, to the lyric poetry of Greece in the period of Sappho and Alcceus. UufortitJiately for our singers, the bulk of the Greek song of that date is lost ; but they fell back on what ancient inspirations they had to hattd, — a7id in the floral verse of Herrick, especially, there are frequent imitations of the Greek Anthology. xxvii €li5abct{)an ^ong^» Herrick rejoices in that pleasing confusion of flowers and maids and delights, and despite " his Noble Numbers or his Pious Pieces " is as s^reat a heathen as Paulus Silentiariiis. TJiese lyrists are all much inclined to cry, with Campion, — " / ca7'e not for these ladies That must be vowed and prayed j Give me kind Amaryllis, The wanton country maidy Their happy and unreflecting wantonness makes, no doubt, part of their charm ; and this., it may be said, was nearly killed by Puritanism, was only blown into a brief aud hectic flame by the orgy of the Restoration, and quite expired, eve?i in Dryden's softgs, under non-lyrical French in- fluences. The last echoes of ElizabetJian melody fade away in some of the latest love-songs in Mr. Bidlcn's " Love Poems from the Song- Books of the SeventeentJi Century," as in the epithalamium from " Wit at a Venture'' (1674), written by Robert Barns (1650), — xxviii 2Fntrotiuction» " Be yotittg to each when winter and gray hairs Your head shall climb j May your affections like the merry spheres Still move in time, And may {with many a good presage) Your marriage prove your merry age." Changed times, chmiged minds ! " Marriage is a failure ! " and who calls the spheres merry ? " Wearj/" is a likelier epithet. Mr. Carlyle called them "« sad sicht." We must be merry again before we can be musical, save in an eru- dite, tuneless fashion ; and Heaveji only knows when lue shall be merry again ! We cannot revive that pleasant, careless babble which in some of Shakespeare's songs breaks down into a mirthful nonsense of chorus. We cannot regain that country contentment, that spontaneous melody, xvhicJi all the singers of a century possess, even as all the dramatists, how- ever worthless.) had, as Scott remarks, something great in their style. Education, which %vas to give us so much, only makes us zvonder at the untutored excellence of the common taste m Eliza- beth's time, that had to be addressed in language xxix €li5al)ctl3an «t>ong^. of a lofty pitch at the play, and that even in tavern-catches demanded and received something exquisite, strange, and not to be renewed^ till we renew the freshness of life and the joy of it. The young English Muse is like Sir Edward Dyer's " Phil lis, the Fair Shepherdess," — " My Phillis hath the morning sun At first to look upon her; And Phillis hath morn-waking birds Her rising still to honor.'''' Bnt now the English Muse may sing ivith Gascoigne, — " First, lullaby 7ny youthful years. It is noza lime to go to bed; For crooked age and hoary hairs Ha7)e now their haven within my head. With lullaby then youth be still. With lullaby content thy will. Since courage quails and comes behind ; Go, sleep, and so beguile thy mind.'''' The revolving years will bring back again, some day, a ivorld that is glad and clean, and not over- thronged and not overdriven. Some later gener- ation will azvake when, as Mr. Bridges sings, — XXX Sntiotiuction* " The merry elves and fairies Are in the woods again. And play tJieir mad vagaries And wanlon freaks amain. ' Come out, come out, good mortals, cofne .' ' they cry, ' and share Our pleasures rare ! ' Atid I that love gay June Am out ere tnorn has driven Her loitering star from heaven, Or woke the first bird's timer Then we shall have courtly singers, like Love- lace and Raleigh, and country pleasures of pipe and tabor. Then England shall not be under a pall of smoke ; the bass viol and the lute and the virginals shall be mnsical, — but the jingle of the piano shall not be heard in the land, and there shall be no Jiurdy-gurdies any more for- ever. Meanwhile, we " have our book of songs and sonnets here." Andrew Lang. I, Marloes Road, London. XXXI lElisabetban- ^on^gs flaunt tliey inphra^sesjine, Enam'ling with piedjlowers their ihouphts oj gold." THE DEFENCE OF POfSiE K ^ JOHN HARYNGTON. A HEART OF STONE. 1534-1582. \17HENCE comes my love? O heart, disclose! 'T was from cheeks that shame the rose ; From lips that spoil the ruby's praise ; From eyes that mock the diamond's blaze. Whence comes my love ? As freely own : Ah, me ! 'T was from a heart of stone. The blushing cheek speaks modest mind ; The lips, befitting words most kind ; The eye does tempt to love's desire. And seems to say 't is Cupid's fire : Yet all so fair but speak my moan, Sith nought doth say the heart of stone. aEli5abctl)an J>ongsf» Why thus, my love, so kind bespeak Sweet hp, sweet eyes, sweet blushing cheek, Yet not a heart to save my pain? O Venus ! take thy gifts again ! Make not so fair to cause our moan. Or make a heart that 's like your own ! GEORGE GASCOIGNE. LULLABY OF A LOVER. 1537-1577 OING lullaby, as women do Wherewith they bring their babes to rest ; And lullaby can I sing too, As womanly as can the best. With lullaby they still the child"; And if I be not much beguiled, Full many wanton babes have I Which must be stilled with lullaby. First, lullaby my youthful years ; It is now time to go to bed. For crooked age and hoary hairs Have now the haven within my head. ^It^abetfjan ^ong^. With lullaby then youth be still, With lullaby content thy will, Since courage quails, and comes behind ; Go, sleep ! and so beguile thy mind. Next, lullaby my gazing eyes, Which wonted were to glance apace. For every glass may now suffice To show the furrows in my face. With lullaby then wink a while, With lullaby your looks beguile ; Let no fair face, nor beauty bright, Entice you eft with vain delight. And lullaby my wanton will, Let reason's rule now reign my thought, Since all too late I find by skill How dear I have thy fancies bought. With lullaby now take thine ease. With lullaby thy doubts appease ; For trust to this, — if thou be still, My body shall obey thy will. oBcorgc oBa^coignc, A STRANGE PASSION OF A LOITER. A MID my bale I bathe in bliss, I swim in heaven, I sink in hell : I find amends for every miss, And yet my moan no tongue can tell. I live and love (what would you more?) As never lover lived before. I laugh sometimes with little lust. So jest I oft and feel no joy ; Mine eye is builded all on trust, And yet mistrust breeds mine annoy. I live and lack, I lack and have ; I have and miss the thing I crave. These things seem strange, yet are they true. Believe me, sweet, my state is such. One pleasure which I would eschew Both slakes my grief and breeds my grutch ; So doth one pain which I would shun Renew my joys where grief begun. oBli^abetfjan «§>ongjB?, Then like the lark that passed the night In heavy sleep with cares oppressed, Yet when she spies the pleasant light She sends sweet notes from out her breast. So sing I now because I think How joys approach, when sorrows shrink. And as fair Philomene again Can watch and sing when others sleep, And taketh pleasure in her pain To wray the woe that makes her weep : So sing I now for to bewray The loathsome life I lead alway. The which to thee, dear wench, I write. Thou know'st my mirth but not my moan : I pray God grant thee deep delight, To live in joys when I am gone. I cannot live ; it will not be : 1 die to think to part from thee. SIR EDWARD DYER. 1550-1607 TO PHILLIS THE FAIR SHEPHERDESS. /\ A Y Phillis hath the morning Sun At first to look upon her : And Phillis hath morn-waking birds Her rising still to honour. My Phillis hath prime feathered flowers, That smile when she treads on them And Phillis hath a gallant flock That leaps since she doth own them. But Phillis hath too hard a heart, Alas, that she should have it ! It yields no mercy to desert, Nor grace to those that crave it. ove, Sets men's senses far at odds. Some swear Love, Smoothed-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 foUv's thrall. 40 Iflobm <6rcntc. 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. 'T is not sweet. That is sweet, Nowhere but where repentance grows. Then love who list, if beauty be so sour ; Labor for me, Love rest in prince's bower. 41 €li5abctl)au J>on0j^. THE SHEPHERD'S IVIFE'S SONG. A H, what is love? It is a pretty thing, As sweet unto a shepherd as a king, And sweeter, too ; For kings have cares that wait upon a crown, And cares can make the sweetest love to frown. Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires do gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain? His flocks are folded ; he comes home at night. As merry as a king in his delight, And merrier, too ; For kings bethink them what the state require. Where shepherds, careless, carol by the fire. Ah then, ah then. If country loves such sweet desires do gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain? 42 Uiobcrt oBrccnc, He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat His cream and curds, as doth the king his meat, And blither, too ; For kings have often fears when they do su[), Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup. Ah then, ah then. If country loves such sweet desires do gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? To bed he goes, as wanton then, I ween, As is a king in dalliance with a queen ; More wanton, too, — For kings have many griefs affects to move. Where shepherds have no greater grief than love. Ah then, ah then. If country loves such sweet desires do gain. What lady would not love a shepherd swain? Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound As doth the king upon his beds of down ; More sounder, too, — For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill, Where weary shepherds lie and snort their fill. 43 ong0. EIDOLA. RE they shadows that we see? And can shadows pleasure give? Pleasures only shadows be, Cast by bodies we conceive, And are made the things we deem In those figures which they seem. A But these pleasures vanish fast Which by shadows are exprest : Pleasures are not if they last, In their passage is their best : Glory is most bright and gay In a flash, and so away. Feed apace then, greedy eyes, On the wonder you behold ; Take it sudden as it flies, Though you take it not to hold : When your eves have done their part, Thought must length it in the heart. 52 Samuel 2DanicL EYES, HIDE MY LOl^E. PYES, hide my love, and do not show To any but to her my notes, Who only doth that cipher know Wherewith we jxiss our secret thoughts Belie your looks in others' sight, And wrong yourselves to do her right. ifV S3 MICHAEL DRAYTON. rO W5 COY LOVE. 1563 1631, I PRAY thee, Love, 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 starved. Show me no more those snowy breasts, With azure rivers branched, Where whilst my eye with plenty feasts, Yet is my thirst not stanched. 54 JtU^icljael 2Drapton, O Tantalus, thy pains ne'er tell, By me thou art prevented ; 'T is 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 ; Oh, these are but too powerful charms, And do but more enthrall me. But see how patient I am grown, In all this coyle about thee ; Come, nice thing, let thy heart alone, - I cannot live without thee. 55 ong0. LOIRE'S ECSTASY. f I ENCE with passion, sighs, and tears, Disasters, sorrows, cares, and fears ! See, my Love, my Love appears, That thought himself exiled. AVhence might all these loud joys grow, Whence might mirth and banquets flow. But that he 's come, he 's come, I know? Fair P'ortune, thou hast smiled. Give [un]to these windows eyes, Daze the stars and mock the skies, And let us two, us two, devise To lavish our best treasures : Crown our wishes with content, Meet our souls in sweet consent, And let this night, this night, be spent In all abundant pleasures. 60 Cljoma^ i^cptuooD* Y TO PHYLLIS. FROM "THE lAIR MAID UH THE EXCHANGE." E little birds that sit and sing Amidst the shady valleys, And see how Phyllis sweetly walks Within her garden alleys ; Go, pretty birds, about her bower ; Sing, pretty birds, she may not lower Ah me ! methinks I see her frown ; Ye pretty wantons, warble. Go, tell her through your chirping bills As you by me are bidden. To her is only known my love Which from the world is hidden. Go, pretty birds, and tell her so. See that your notes strain not too low, For still methinks I see her frown ; Ye pretty wantons, warble. 6i €li5abetl^an ^ongs. Go, tune your voices' harmony, And sing I am her lover ; Strain loud and sweet, that every note With sweet content may move her. And she that hath the sweetest voice. Tell her I will not change my choice : Yet still methinks I see her frown ; Ye pretty wantons, warble. Oh fly ! make haste ! see, see, she falls Into a pretty slumber ; Sing round about her rosy bed. That waking she may wonder; Say to her 't is her lover true, That sendeth love to you, to you ; And when you hear her kind reply, Return with pleasant warblings. 62 e^^^^^^ CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. I 564- I 593 THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOl^E. C OME live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields. Woods or steepy mountain yields. And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies ; A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle ; 63 €ii5aticti)an ^ong^. A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold ; A belt of straw and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs : And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love. The shepherd swains shall dance and sing P'or thy delight each May morning; If these delights thy mind may move, Come live with me and be my love. 64 / WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. TO SYLyiA. 1^64-1616. w FROM "TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA." HO is Sylvia? What is she That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she ; The heavens such grace did lend her That she might admiretl be. Is she kind as she is fair? — For beauty lives with kindness; Love doth to her eyes repair To help him of his blindness ; And being helped, inhabits there. 65 oEli^aftetljan ^ong^. Then to Sylvia let us sing, That Sylvia is excelling ; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling ; To her let us garlands bring. ^;i^ 66 JlDiiliani ^f)attc^pcare. SONG. FROM "LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST." /^N a day (alack the day !) Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air ; Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen, 'gan passage find, That the lover, sick to death, Wished himself the heaven's breath. "Air," quoth he, ''thy cheeks may blow Air, would I might triumph so ! But, alack, my hand is sworn Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn : Vow, alack, for youth unmeet, Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet. Do not call it sin in me That I am forsworn for thee ; Thou, for whom Jove would swear Juno but an Ethiop were, And deny himself for Jove Turning mortal for thy love." 67 ^li^afictljan J^ongs?. TO IMOGEN. FROM "CYMBELINE." jLTARK, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaUced flowers that Ues ; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes : With everything that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise; Arise, arise ! 68 IBiUiam fif>l)akc^pcarc. INCONSTANCY. FROM "MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING." O IGH no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever ; One foot in sea, and one on shore. To one thing constant never : Then sigh not so, But let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into hey nonny, nonny ! Sing no more ditties, sing no mo' Of dumps so dull and heavy ; The fraud of men was ever so Since summer first was leavy : Then sigh not so. But let them go. And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into hey nonny, nonny ! 69 ^li^abctftan J^ong^, T Fy4NCY. FROM "MERCHANT OF VENICE." ELL me where is Fancy bred, — In the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engendered in the eyes. With gazing fed ; and Fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring Fancy's knell, I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell, Ding, dong, bell. 70 H^illiam ^fjahe^jjcare. THE RHYME OF IVHITE AND RED. FROM " LOVES LABOUR 'S LOST." TF she be made of white and red, Her faults will ne'er be known, For blushing cheeks by faults are bred, And fears by pale white shown : Then if she fear, or be to blame, By this you shall not know, For still her cheeks possess the same, Which native she doth owe. 71 t)a(ic^pcarc. BIRON'S CANZONET. FROM •■LOVES LABOUR'S LOST." TF love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed ! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I '11 faithful prove ; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed. Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend. If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice ; Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend, 73 (iEii5aI>ct|)an ^f^ong^. All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder (Which IS to me some praise, that I thy parts admire) ; Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dread- ful thunder. Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, oh pardon love this wrong, That sings Heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue ! 74 UDilliam cf^tjahcispcarc. THE LOVER'S TEARS. FROM "LOVE'S LABOUR S LOST.' OO sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows ; Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright Through the transparent bosom of the deep, As doth thy face through tears of mine give light. Thou shinest in every tear that I do weep ; No drop but as a coach doth carry thee. So ridest thou triumphing in my woe. Do but behold the tears that swell in me, And they thy glory through my grief will show. But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. O queen of queens, how for dost thou excel ! No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell. 75 €li5alietl)an J>ong^, PERJURY EXCUSED. FROM " LOVE'S LABOUR 'S LOST." r^ID not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, Persuade my heart to this false perjury? Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. A woman I forswore ; but I will prove. Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee : My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love ; Thy grace being gained cures all disgrace in me. Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is : Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, Exhalest this vapour-vow ; in thee it is ! If broken then, it is no fault of mine ; If by me broke, what fool is not so wise To lose an oath to win a paradise? 76 ilE)iUtam ^Ijahe^peare. OH, MISTRESS MINE. FROM "TWELFTH NIGHT.' r\ MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming? ^-^^ Oh, stay and liear ; your true love 's coming, That can sing both high and low. Trip no farther, pretty sweeting ; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. What is love ? 't is not hereafter ; Present mirth hath present laughter j What 's to come is still unsure. In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty. Youth 's a stuff will not endure. 77 oBii^alJCtljan J>ong^. IT IVAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. FROM 'TWELFTH NIGHT." TT was a lover and his lass, AVith a hey and a ho and a hey nonino, That o'er the green cornfield did pass In the spring-time, the only pretty ring-time, When birds do sing, hey ding-a-ding, ding ; Sweet lovers love the spring. Between the acres of the rye, With a hey and a ho and a hey nonino, These pretty country-folks would lie, In the spring-time, the only pretty ring-time, When birds do smg, hey ding-a-ding, ding ; Sweet lovers love the spring. This carol they began that hour. With a hey and a ho and a hey noaino. How that a life was but a flower In the spring-time, the only pretty ring-time, 7S IBiiliani =f)|)altc^pcare» When birds do sing, hey ding-a-ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring. And therefore take the present time With a hey and a ho and a hey nonino ; For love is crowned with the prime In the spring-time, the only pretty ring-time, When birds do sing, hey ding-a-ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring. SONG. FROM "MEASURE FOR MEASURE." T^AKE, oh take those lips away That so sweetly were forsworn ! And those eyes, like break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn ! But my kisses bring again, Seals of love, but sealed in vain. 79 €Ii5aliet]^an ^ong^* A BRIDAL SONG. FROM THE "TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.' OOSES, their sharp spines being gone. Not royal in their smells alone, But in their hue ; Maiden pinks, of odour faint, Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint, And sweet thyme true ; Primrose, firstborn child of Ver, Merry springtime's harbinger, With her bells dim ; Oxlips in their cradles growing, Marigolds on deathbeds blowing, Larks'-heels trim. All dear Nature's children sweet Lie 'fore bride and bridegroom's feet, Blessing their sense ! 80 H^illiam ^(jahc^pcare. Not an angel of the air, Bird melodious, or bird fair, Be absent hence ! The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor The boding raven, nor chough hoar, Nor chattering pie, May on our bride-house perch or sing. Or with them any discord bring. But from it fly ! 8i ^U^atictJjan J>ong^. A WEDLOCK HYMN. FROM "TWELFTH NIGHT." w EDDING is great Juno's crown ; Oh blessed bond of board and bed ! 'T is Hymen peoples every town, — High wedlock then be honoured ; Honour, high honour and renown. To Hymen, god of every town ! BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 1576-1625. IVEDDING SONG. FROM "THE MAID'S TRAGEDY." IT OLD back ihy hours, dark Night, till we have done ! The dav will come too soon ; Young maids will curse thee if thou steal'st away And leav'st 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. 83 €U5abcti)au J^ongjS, IVylKE, GENTLY IVAKE. FROM ■•■WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS. " F^AIN would I wake you, sweet, but fear I should invite you to worse cheer; In your dreams you cannot fare Meaner than music, or compare ; None of your slumbers are compiled Under the pleasures makes a child ; Your day-delights, so well compact That what you think turns all to act, I 'd wish my life no better play Your dream by night, your thought by day. Wake, gently wake. Part softly from your dreams; The morning flies 'I'o your fair eyes, To take her special beams. 84 i 1 f25cauniont niib flctrljcr. T SONG IN THE IVOOD. FROM "THE LITTLE rREN'CII LAWYER." HIS way, this way come, and hear, You that hold these pleasures dear ; Fill your cars with our sweet sound. Whilst we melt the frozen ground. This way come ; make haste. O Fair ! Let your clear eyes gild tlie air ; Come, and bless us with your sight : This way, this way, seek delight ! 85 €U5aiJftljan .^ong^* BRIDAL SONG. FROM "THE LITTLE FREN'CH LAWYER." f~^ OME away ! bring on the bride, And place her by her lover's side. You fair troop of maids attend her ; Pure and holy thoughts befriend her. Blush, and wish you virgins all jVIany such fair nights may fall. Hymen, fill the house with joy; All thy sacred fires employ; ' Bless the bed with holy love : Now, fair orb of beauty, move ! S6 JOHN FLETCHER. SPRING TIME AND LOVE. FROM "VALENTINIAN." 1576-1623. l\IOW the lusty spring is seen; Golden yellow, gaudy blue, Daintily invite the view ; Everywhere, on every green, Roses, blushing as they blow, And enticing men to pull , Lilies, whiter than the snow; Woodbines, of sweet honey full All love's emblems, and all cry, "Ladies, if not plucked, we die." 87 €U5abet]^an ^ong^. Yet the lusty spring has stayed; Blushing red, and purest white, Daintily to love invite Every woman, every maid. Cherries, kissing as they grow. And inviting men to taste ; Apples, even ripe below, Winding gently to the waist ; All love's emblems, and all cry, " Ladies, if not plucked, we die." II. Hear, ye ladies that despise, What the mighty Love has done ! Fear examples, and be wise. Fair Caliston was a nun ; Leda, sailing on a stream, To deceive the hopes of man, Love accounting but a dream, Doted on a silver swan ; Danae, in a brazen tower, Where no love was, loved a flower. 88 f oJ)n fkttlytt. Hear, ye ladies that are coy, What the mighty Love can do ! Fear the fierceness of the boy, The chaste moon he makes to woo. Vesta, kindhng holy fires, Circled round about with spies, Never dreaming loose desires, Doting, at the altar, dies. Ilion in a short hour, higher He can build, nnd once more fire. 89 aKlt5atJCtI)an ^ong^. TO MY MISTRESS'S EYES. " FROM "WOMEN PLEASED." /^ FAIR sweet face ! O eyes celestial bright ! Twin stars in heaven, that now adorn the night ! O fruitful lips, where cherries ever grow ! And damask cheeks, where all sweet beauties blow ! O thou from head to foot divinely fair ! Cupid's most "cunning net 's made of that hair, And as he weaves himself for curious eyes, "O me, O me! I 'm caught myself!" he cries: Sweet rest about thee, sweet and golden sleep, Soft peaceful thoughts your hourly watches keep, Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice To beauty sacred, and those angel eyes. 90 ^ -^ V-, %:. ;>^-. 2Foftn f Ictcljcr, D SERENylDE. FROM "THE SPANISH CURATE." BAREST, do not you delay me, Since thou know'st I must be gone ; ^Vind and tide 't is thought doth stay me. But 't is wind that must be blown From that breath whose native smell Indian odours doth excel. Oh then speak, thou fliirest lair, Kill not him that vows to serve thee ! But perfume this neighbouring air, Else dull silence sure will sterve me ; 'T is a word that 's quickly spoken, Which being restrained, a heart is broken. 91 <2Sli^atiet]^au ^ong^. TO ANGELIN/I. FROM "THE ELDER BROTHER." DEAUTY clear and fair Where the air Rather Hke a perfume dwells, Where the violet and the rose Their blue veins and blush disclose, And come to honour nothing else. Where to live near, And planted there, Is to live, and still live new; Where to gain a favour is More than light, perpetual bliss : Make me live by serving you ! Dear, again back recall To this hght A stranger to himself and all ; Both the wonder and the story Shall be yours, and eke the glory; I am your servant and your thrall. 92 3o()n fittdycv. TO THE BLEST E FAN THE. FROM "A WIFE FOR A MONTH." [ ET those complain that feel Love's cruelty, And in sad legends write their woes ; With roses gently ' has corrected me, My war is without rage or blows : My mistress's eyes shine fair on my desires, And hope springs up inflamed with her new fires. No more an exile will I dwell. With folded arms and sighs all day, Reckoning the torments of my hell, And flinging my sweet joys away : I am called home again to quiet peace ; My mistress smiles, and all my sorrows cease. Yet what is living in her eye. Or being blessed with her sweet tongue, If these no other joys imply? A golden gyve, a pleasing wrong ! To be your own but one poor month, I M give My youth, my fortune, and then leave to live. 93 THOMAS DEKKER. 1570 ?-i64i ? BEAUTY, ARISE! FROM "THE PLEASANT COMEDY OF PATIENT GRISSELL." DEAUTY, arise, show forth thy glorious shining ! Thine eyes feed love, for them he standeth pining ; Honour and youth attend to do their duty To thee, their only sovereign beauty. Beauty, arise, whilst we, thy servants, sing lo to Hymen, wedlock's jocund king ! To to Hymen, lo, lo, sing ! Of wedlock, love, and youth is Hymen king. Beauty, arise, thy glorious lights display 1 Whilst we sing lo, glad to see this day. lo. To, to Hymen, lo, lo, sing ! Of wedlock, love, and youth is Hymen king. 94 €l)omajB^ ^chket. THE INVITATION. FROM -THE SUNS DARLING." T IVE with me still, and all the measures Played to by the spheres I '11 teach thee ; Let 's but thus dally, all the pleasures The moon beholds her man shall reach thee. Dwell in mine arms, aloft we'll hover, And see fields of armies fighting : Oh, part not from me ! I '11 discover There all but [?] books of fancy's writing. Be but my darling. Age to free thee From her curse shall fall a-dying ; Call me thy em])ress, Time to see thee Shall forget his art of flying. 95 THOMAS CAMPION. LOME'S REQUEST. 1540 ?-i623 ? s HALL I come, sweet Love, to thee When the evening beams are set? Shall I not excluded be, Will you find no feigned let? Let me not, for pity, more Tell the long hours at your door ! Who can tell what thief or foe, In the covert of the night, For his prey will work my woe. Or through wicked foul despite? So may I die unredrest Ere my long love be possest. 96 €i)onia^ Campion* But to let such dangers pass, Which a lover's thoughts disdain, 'T is enough in such a place To attend love's joys in vain : Do not mock me in thy bed, While these cold nights freeze me dead. 97 €li5atjct^an ^ongs^. TO LESBI/t. /\ A Y sweetest Lesbla, let us live and love ; And though the sager sort our deeds reprove, Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive Into their west, and straight again revive ; But soon as once set is our little light. Then must we sleep one ever-during night. If all would lead their lives in love like me, Then bloody swords and armour should not be ; No drum nor trumpet peaceful sleeps should move, Unless alarm came from the Camp of Love : But fools do live and waste their little light, And seek with pain their ever-during night. When timely death my life and fortunes ends, Let not my hearse be vext with mourning friends; But let all lovers rich in triumph come, And with sweet pastimes grace my happy tomb : And, Lesbia, close up tho'i my little light, And crown with love my e\er-during night. 98 Cl^omasf Campion. CHERRY RIPE. HERE is a garden in her face Where roses and white Hlies grow ; A heavenly paradise is that place Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow : There cherries grow which none may buy, Till " Cherry ripe " themselves do cry. T Those cherries fairly do enclose Of orient pearl a double row, Which when her lovely laughter shows, They look like rose-buds filled with snow ; Vet them nor peer nor prince can buy, Till " Cherry ripe " themselves do cry. Her eyes like angels watch them still, Her brows like bended bows do stand. Threatening with piercing frowns to kill All that attempt with eye or hand Those sacred cherries to come nigh. Till " Cherry ripe " themselves do cry- 99 BEN JONSON. SONG. 1574-1637. o H, do not wanton with those eyes, Lest I be sick with seeing ; Nor cast them down, but let them rise, Lest shame destroy their being. Oh, be not angry with those fires. For then their threats will kill me ; Nor look too kind on my desires. For then my hopes will spill me. Oh, do not steep them in thy tears, F'or so will sorrow slay me -. Nor spread them as distract with fears, Mine own enough betray me. 100 25cn 3on^on, PERFECT BEAUTY. FROM "THE NEW INN." TT was a beauty that I saw, So pure, so perfect, as the frame Of all the universe was lame To that one figure could I draw, Or give least line of it a law ! A skein of silk without a knot, A fair march made without a halt, A curious form without a fault, A printed book without a blot, All beauty, and without a spot ! lOI dx3ali0tl)an ^ongi^. s THE TRIUMPH OF CHARIS. FROM "THE DEVIL IS AN ASS." EE the chariot at hand here of Love, Wherein my lady rideth ! Each that draws is a swan or a dove, And well the car Love guideth. As she goes, all hearts do duty Unto her beauty. And enamoured do wish, so they might But enjoy such a sight, That they still were to run by her side Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride. Do but look on her eyes ; they do light All that Love's world compriseth ! Do but look on her hair ; it is bright As Love's star, when it riseth ! Do but mark her forehead, smoother Than words that soothe her ! I02 25en goitj^Dih And from her arched brows such a grace Sheds itself through the face As alone there triumphs to the life, All the gain, all the good, of the elements' strife ! Have you seen but a bright lily grow, Before rude hands have touched it? Have you marked but the fall of the snow. Before the soil hath smutched it? Have you felt the wool of the beaver. Or swan's down, ever? Or have smelt o' the bud of the brier, Or the nard in the fire? Or have tasted the bag of the bee? Oh so white, oh so soft, oh so sweet is she ! 103 €li5aft0tl)an ^ong^^. TO CELIA. r^RINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine ; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I '11 not look for wine ! The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine. But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honoring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be ; But thou thereon did'st only breathe, And sent'st it back to me ; Since when it grows and smells, I swear, Not of itself, but thee. 104 25cn 3^011^011. THE SIVEET NEGLECT. FROM "THE SILENT WOMAN.' OTILL to be neat, still to be drest As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfumed. Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face. That makes simplicity a grace ; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art : They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. 105 €li5a(jetl)an -^ongs. O THE KISS. FROM "CYNTHIA S REVELS. H that joy so soon should waste ! Or so sweet a bliss As a kiss Might not forev^er last ! So sugared, so melting, so soft, so delicious ! The dew that lies on roses When the morn herself discloses Is not so precious. Oh rather than I would it smother, Were I to taste such another, It should be my wishing That 1 might die kissing ! ro6 25cn Son^on. THE BANQUET OF SENSE. FROM -THE POETASTER." 1. 'X'HEN in a free and lofty strain Our broken tunes we thus repair; 2. And we answer them again, Running division on the panting air Anibo. To celebrate this feast of sense, As free from scandal as offence. 1. . Here is beauty for the eye; 2. For the ear sweet melody; 1 . Ambrosiac odours for the smell ; 2. Delicious nectar for the taste ; Ambo. For the touch a lady's waist, Which doth all the rest excel. 107 aEli^abctijan ^ong^gf. T TO A GLOVE. FROM "CYNTHIA'S REVELS." 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 wear thee, Whiter than the kid that bear thee. Thou art soft, but that was softer; Cupid's self has kissed it ofter Than e'er he did his mother's doves, Supposing her the queen of loves That was thy mistress, best of gloves. loS 25cii 5^onson. VENETIAhJ SONG. FROM "VOLPONE, OR THli FOX." /■"^OME, my Celia, let us prove, \\^hile we can, the sports of love ; Time will not be ours forever. He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain : Suns that set may rise again ; But if once we lose this light, 'T is with us perpetual night. Why should we defer our joys? Fame and rumour are but toys. Cannot we delude the eyes Of a few poor household spies? Or his easier ears beguile, Thus removed by our wile? 'T is no sin love's fruits to steal ; But the sweet thefts to reveal, To be taken, to be seen, — These have crimes accounted been. 109 WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 1585-1649. TO CHLORIS. QEE, Chloris, how the clouds Tilt in the a/.ure lists, And how with Stygian mists Each horned hill his giant forehead shrouds ; Jove thund'reth in the air; The air, grown great with rain. Now seems to bring Deucalion's days again. I see thee quake ; come, let us home repair ; Come, hide thee in mine arms, If not for love, yet to shun greater harms. no HDiHiam 2Dmmmonti. M/IDRIGAL OVVEET 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 Poestum'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 blissed : My Lady's breast you bare, and lips you kissed. Ill (eii5atietl)an ^ong^. SONG. pHCEBUS, arise, And paint the sable skies With azure, white, and red ! Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed, That she thy career may with roses spread ! The nightingales thy coming each where sing Make an eternal Spring, Give life to this dark world which lieth dead. Spread forth thy golden hair In larger locks than thou wast wont before, And, emperor like, decore With diadem of pearls thy temples fair ; Chase hence the ugly night, Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light ! This is that happy morn, That day, long-wished day, Of all my life so dark (If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn, And fates not hope betray). 112 Jl^illiam 2Drummonti, Which, only white, deserves A diamond forever should it mark : This is tlie morn should bring unto this grove My love, to hear and recompense my love. Fair King, who all preserves. But show tliy blushing beams, And thou two sweeter eyes Shalt see than those which by Peneus' streams Did once thy heart surprise : Nay, suns, which shine as clear As thou when two thou did to Rome appear. Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest guise ! If that ye. Winds, would hear A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre. Your stormy chiding stay ; Let zephyr only breathe, And with her tresses play. Kissing sometimes these purple ports of death. The winds all silent are. And Phoebus in his chair, Ensaffroning sea and air, Makes vanish every star; "3 €li5atictt)an J^ongs, Night like a drunkard reels Beyond the hills to shun his flaming wheels : The fields with flowers are decked in every hue, The clouds bespangle with bright gold their blue ; Here is the pleasant place, And everything, save her, who all should grace. 114 GEORGE WITHER. 1388-1667. SH/ILL I, IV/I STING IN DBS PA I RE? OHALI. I, wasting in despaire, Dye because a woman 's fair ! Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosie are? Be slie fairer than the day Or the flowry meads in May, If she thinke not well of me, What care I how faire she be? Shall my seely heart be pined 'Cause I see a woman kind? i>5 Cli^alictijan J>ong^. Or a well disposed nature Joyned with a lovely feature? Be she meeker, kinder than Turtle-dove or Pelican, — If she be not so to me. What care I how kind she be? Shall a woman's vertues move Me to perish for her love? Or her wel deservings knowne Make me quite forget mine own? Be she with that goodness blest Which may merit name of best, — If she be not such to me, What care I how good she be? 'Cause her fortune seems too high Shall I play the fool and die? She that beares a noble mind, If not outward helpes she find. Thinks what with them he wold do, That without them dares her woe : ii6 OBcorgc JlDitFjcr. And unlesse that minde I see, What care I how great she be? Great, or good, or kmd, or faire, I will ne'er the more despaire : If she love me (this beleeve), I will die ere she shall grieve. If she slight me when I woe, I can scorne and let her goe ; For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be? "7 Cii^atietljan ^ong^. A SONG TO HER BEAUTY. FROM "THE MISTRESS OF PHILARETE.' A ND her lips (that show no duhiess) Full are, in the meanest fulness : Those the leaves be whose unfolding Brings sweet pleasures to beholding ; For such pearls they do disclose. Both the Indies match not those, Yet are so in order placed As their whiteness is more graced. Each part is so well disposed, And her dainty mouth composed. So as there is no distortion Misbeseems that sweet proportion. When her ivory teeth she buries 'Twixt her two enticing cherries, There appear such pleasures hidden As might tempt what were forbidden. ii8 <2Bcor0c ilDitljcr* If you look again the whiles She doth part those lips in smiles, 'T is as when a flash of light Breaks from heaven to glad the night. "9v