A
A
UT
1
J]
SID
3
GIO
7
2
'
7
1
r
8
T>
LIT
b
^
TREASURY
of
ELIZABETHAN
LYRICS
BARTER,
^
^\>'
^^J^^'
u
dtl ^reaeut*^ of
cr^O)^/ /^'^^'y^
A Treasury of
Elizabethan Lyrics
Seleaed ^ Edited by
AMYB^ARTFR
Late Head Mistress of Braintree Pupil Teachers' School
Editor of "A Book of Sonnets"
"Eighteenth Century
Comedy" ^c.
GEORGE G. HARRAP ^ CO.
1 5 York Street Covent Garden
London W.C.
1910
y^/C
Lelchworlh : Al I he Arden Press
H Srea0urg of &i%<xhiH^ &gnc6
preface
THE selections from the lyrical poetry of
the Elizabethan Age contained in this
book are intended to be, as far as possible,
representative of every type of this very large
and varied section of literature. For this
reason, although most of the best-known songs
of the period are included, place has also
been found for some of a lower order of liter-
ary merit. The great mass of sonnet literature,
as constituting' a class in itself, has been al-
most entirely neglected, and is represented by
only two specimens.
The text has been carefully prepared from
the most trustworthy editions of the poems,
and in cases where these have shown varia-
tions, the clearest reading and that presenting
least difficulty has been chosen. Special in-
debtedness must be acknowledged to Mr A, H.
BuUen's series of reprints from the Miscel-
lanies and Song Books.
[5]
Jl fftedBurg of (Bfi^aBet^dn Ul^xxcb
THE age which gave us the plays of Shake-
speare and his contemporaries stands out
pre-eminently in the history of our literature
as the great age of dramatic poetry; and the
fact of this pre-eminence is so constantly and so
vividly present to our minds that we are some-
times in danger of forgetting that lyrical poetry
also flourished exceedingly during this period.
Indeed, it may be questioned whether the
lyrical impulse was not stronger even than
the dramatic. It was certainly more general,
since not only was almost every dramatist the
author of at least two or three notable lyrics,
but there existed also a crowd of less known
singers of whose verses probably only a small
proportion has come down to us. Little care
was taken to preserve them. To write a *' son-
net," as the short love poem of the day, what-
ever its form, was indifferently called, was
one of the necessary accomplishments of the
fine gentleman. When written, the poem was
presented to the lady to whom it was addressed,
and perhaps handed about at court for a few
days or a few weeks. Then it was probably
forgotten, and the "courtly maker" let it go
without, in many cases, even troubling to keep
a copy, much less taking any measures towards
having it printed. But even the small propor-
[7]
oH Ctrcaourg of (Bfi^aBctfian £^ric6
tion of Kli/ab(>thaii lyrics that have been pre-
ser\'ed to our own day make up a goodly col-
lection. Some of them are almost worthless;
some are little more than the mechanical eft'orts
of professional rhymesters who wrote simply
to satisfy a jniblic demand. More, however,
possess real literary merit, and a considerable
proportion rise to that higher realm of litera-
ture which is reserved for works destined to
immortality. In few, even of the weaker ex-
amples, is that indefinable "singing" quality,
which for want of a better name we may call
" tunefulness," entirely absent. The Elizabe-
thans are undoubtedly our great song-writers,
rivalled only by that group of Scottish poets, of
whom Burns is the chief. Yet even here there is
rivalry without similarity. The difference be-
tween the Elizabethan lyrics and those of all
other ages is hard to define, yet its existence
is recognized at once by all lovers of poetry,
even by those whose study of literature has
been neither deep nor critical.
The best of the Elizabethan lyrics — those
which are original, and not merely imitative
— are strongly characteristic of the England
of their day. They are fresh and vigorous,
as England was fresh and vigorous after
her "Renaissance" or new birth. They are
marked by a wonderful spontaneity and free-
dom from self-consciousness. They have the
faults, as well as the merits, of youth. They are
unpolished, sometimes crude in workmanship;
[8]
il ^redgurg of (Bfi;a6etgan g^grtcg
where an attempt at elaboration is made, it is
the elaboration of a child — open, artless, not
aiming at subtle effects, but pleased with a new
arrangement or contrivance because it is new.
They have few of the skilfully wrought har-
monies of diction or metre which charm our
ears in the works of poets of a later age. But
they are true songs, with a tuneful lilt and a
brain-haunting cadence such as few modern
lyrics possess.
To collect these scattered poems, and pre-
sent them in a form accessible to the general
reader has been a task only accomplished by
the labour and enthusiasm of students of Eliza-
bethan literature during the last fifty years.
The chief storehouses from which treasures
have been drawn may be briefly indicated.
I. The Elizabethan Miscellanies. Collections
of verses by various authors were published
throughout the period, sometimes by book-
sellers, sometimes by literary editors. They
were extremely popular, and usually went
through many editions. In them were preserved
a large number of poems which would other-
wise have been lost. Mr Courthope in his *' His-
tory of English Poetry" says that these Miscel-
lanies form a series of landmarks showing the
progress of Elizabethan poetry. The chief are :
(a) "Tottell's Miscellany," 1557. The full
title of this work was "Songes and Sonnettes
written by the ryght honorable Lorde Henry
Haward late Earle of Surrey and other." It
[9]
oR Ctrcacurg of (Sfi ^aSctfian E^rtce
contains the poems of VVyatt and Surrey, and
others by various authors.
(b) "The Paradyse of Daynty Devises, de-
vised and written for the most part by M. Ed-
wards, sometimes of her Majesties Chappel:
the rest by sundry learned gentlemen, both of
honoyr and woorshippe." 1576.
A collection of poems mostly didactic and
religious.
(c) "A Gorgious Gallery of Gallant Inven-
tions." 1578.
(d) "A handefull of Pleasant Delites." 1584.
(e) Breton's "Bower of Delites." 1592.
(f) "The Phoenix Nest." 1593. This contains
poems by Lodge, Watson, Peele, and others.
(gj "The Arbor of Amorous Devises." 1597.
(hj "The Passionate Pilgrim." 1599. This
contains poems by Shakespeare, 13arnfield,
Marlowe, Raleigh and others.
(i) "England's Helicon." 1600. "This is the
most celebrated and the richest of the whole
class, and is in itself a compendium of all that
is best or that at the time was famous among
Elizabethan pastorals and love poems. Every
living poet of eminence seems to have been
drawn upon for a copy of verses, and much
was added from the stores of those no longer
living." (T. H. Ward.)
fj) "A Poetical Rapsody." 1602. Edited by
Francis Davison, who contributed many poems.
II. The E lizabct hail Soil g Books . In these books
we have a large number of lyrics set to music.
[10]
Jl txe<XBux2 of &x'^<xUt^<xn ^^xxcb
Some of them are taken from the Miscellanies
above mentioned, but many are original. In
some cases words and tune are by the same
author; in others the verses are set to well-
known tunes of the day. The chief of these
song books are :
(a) William Byrd's collection. This consists
of three books of "Psalms, Songs, and Son-
nets," published between 1588 and 161 1 by
William Byrd, organist of Lincoln Cathedral.
(b) Dowland's collection. Three books of
" Songs or Airs of four parts, with Tableture
for the Lute," by the celebrated musician who
is mentioned in Barnfield's sonnet "If music
and sweet poetry agree," published between
1597 and 1603.
(c) Campion's collection. Four "Books of
Airs" published by Thomas Campion, who
wrote both the words and the music of many
of them. 1601-1613.
There were also song books by Robert
Jones, Thomas Ford, Thomas Vautor, and
many others. Copies of most of these books are
extremely rare. Of other song books mentioned
by contemporary writers, there are now, as far
as is known, no copies in existence.
III. T/ie Plays and Romances of the Period.
Some of the finest Elizabethan lyrics are to
be found scattered throughout the plays and
romances of the time. A few of these were re-
printed in the Miscellanies or the Song Books,
but for the most part they form a new collec-
oR itrcaeur^ of (Bi't^aBctBan Enrico
tion. Nowhere is the spontaneous character of
the Elizabethan lyrics better illustrated than
in those examples. It almost seems as if the
authors had spLMit all ihcir conscious effort on
the play or romance itself, and had sung out
the songs from time to time through the com-
pelling force of the feelings — pity, sadness,
mockery, orsheerlight-heartedness — which the
story had aroused. For this reason the dramatic
value of these songs, as part of the whole work,
is great. The reader, and still more the spec-
tator of the drama, feels that in the songs his
own feelings have found expression, and have
been at once interpreted and satisfied.
It follows naturally from this quality of dra-
matic suitability possessed by the songs, that
they cannot be studied in all their aspects
apart from the play in which they occur. Yet
it is true also that there is an advantage in
considering them as ordinary, unattached
lyrics. The attention is thus concentrated on
their lyric quality, it is possible to contrast
and compare, to recognize common character-
istics and to form a general notion of this de-
partment of Elizabethan poetry. There is also
another reason for the existence of such col-
lections as the present. Many of the Eliza-
bethan plays and romances are marred by
faults which, to the taste of a later age, out-
weigh their merits, except for the purposes of
the student. The ordinary reader would pro-
bably find many of the works of Shakespeare's
[12]
cH ffreaeurg of (Bfi^afiet^an B^gricB
contemporaries tedious, uninteresting, and
sometimes unpleasant reading; yet the lyrics
are as fresh and beautiful as ever, and as tune-
ful to twentieth as to sixteenth century ears.
The authors from whose works poems have
been taken for the purposes of the present col-
lection range from Wyatt to Shirley. Eliza-
bethan poetry began with Wyatt and Surrey,
although they lived and died before Elizabeth
came to the throne. They may, indeed, be re-
garded as the founders of lyrical poetry in
England, since although before their time our
literature contained many ballads and songs,
yet these did not in any sense constitute a real
poetic class, and are chiefly valuable as show-
ing that the germ of that power which has
since developed into such a wonderful literature
was from early times latent in the English
people. To Wyatt and Surrey we owe the in-
troduction of the sonnet and various other
regular metrical forms; they transmitted to
England the beginnings of the Italian influence
which was to do so much for Elizabethan liter-
ature. Both were famous courtiers and states-
men, as well as poets, and their comparatively
short lives — for Wyatt died at the age of
thirty-nine and Surrey was beheaded for high
treason at the age of thirty — did much both for
their own and the succeeding generation.
Nearly forty years passed, and half of Eliza-
beth's reign was gone before lyrical poetry
received its next great addition. Meanwhile,
[13]
oR itrcaourj of (gfi;a6ct^an Bl^vxcb
many inllui'iices luul been iit work. The full
forct^ of the Rrnaissance movement had been
makintr itself felt in learning and letters: from
the Continent, and especially from Italy, new
forms and fashions in literature had been in-
troduced and had taken root in this country;
voyages and travels had opened men's eyes to
see a great world of which they had never be-
fore dreamed; the religious enthusiasm of the
reformers had affected all departments of life.
Some of the minor versifiers had begun their
work and several Miscellanies and Song Books
had been published. The appearance of Spen-
ser's "Shepheard's Calendar" in 1579 seemed
to be the signal for a general manifestation
of the poetic impulse which had been at
work under the surface of Elizabethan life.
Sidney wTote his "Arcadia" and his sonnets,
though these were not published until ten
years later. Greene, Peele, Marlowe, and
Lodge began to send out their plays and lyrics.
Lyly, whose prose novel, "Euphues," had in
1579 gone far towards transforming the lan-
guage of the court and the court literature,
began that series of light fantastic comedies,
which, though in substance too slight to be
considered as serious additions to the drama,
contain many charming lyrics.
The last decade of the sixteenth century-
showed the culmination of this lyrical outburst.
It gave us Spenser's "Faerie Queene" and all
the early plays of Shakespeare from which the
[14]
il €u<XBut^ of &i'^<^hiH^ Bl^xxcb
larger number of his lyrics may be gathered. It
gave us also Shakespeare's " Sonnets," al-
though these were not published until 1609. The
best of the ElizabethanMiscellanies were issued
during this period. Almost every year saw two or
three song books make their appearance. Music
became a passion among the people, and great
musicians like William Byrd (^organist at Lin-
coln), John Dowland (the wonderful lutenist),
Thomas Weelkes (organist successively at
Winchester and Chichester), Jones, Rosseter,
Ford and Vautor (music-teachers and com-
posers), and, chief of all, Thomas Campion
(poet and musical composer) — used every effort
to make air and words worthy of each other.
"Tinkers sang catches; milkmaids sang bal-
lads; carters whistled; each trade, and even
the beggars, had their special songs; the bass-
viol hung in the drawing room for the amuse-
ment of waiting visitors ; and the lute, cittern,
and virginals, for the amusement of waiting
customers, were the necessary furniture of the
barber's shop. They had music at dinner; mu-
sic at supper; music at weddings; music at
funerals ; music at night ; music at dawn ; music
at work; and music at play." (Chappell.)
The beginning of the seventeenth century
saw Elizabethan poetry still in full vigour.
Beaumont, Fletcher, Dekker, Heywood and
Ben Jonson took the places of the earlier
poets. The exquisite lyrics of "Cymbeline,"
"The Tempest" and "The Winter's Tale"
[15]
cH Zxcaonx^ of (Bff^aBct^an Bl^vxcq
brouglu llu' Shaktispcarean series to a climax.
No more Miscellanies appeared, but the writers
of song- books were still active. With the end
of the reiu;'n of James T came a change in the
tone and spirit of literature. The next group of
lyrical poets — Wither, Carew, Herrick, Suck-
ling, Crashaw, etc. — although in some cases
their lives overlapped the lives of those whom
we consider as true Elizabethans, were far from
the Elizabethan spirit. The perfect freedom
and spontaneity of the earlier school are gone;
and though much is gained in the way of regu-
larity, restraint, correctness of metre and choice-
ness of epithet, yet a certain artificiality has
come to show that the first free outburst of
lyrical poetry has passed into a more ordered,
conscious and matured method of expression.
The influence of the division of the nation into
Royalists and Roundheads helped also to
introduce a new element. Some few Eliza-
bethans lingered on out of their due time,
but they produced little characteristic verse.
True Elizabethan poetry may be said to come
to an end with James Shirley, who, strictly
speaking, cannot be considered as an Eliza-
bethan at all. Yet his '* wonderful manipulative
dexterity, his power of assimilating and re-
shaping the creations of his great predeces-
sors," enabled him to produce verses which,
both in manner and matter, were so distinctly
allied to those of the Elizabethan School, that
specimens of them may fitly close this selec-
tion.
[i6]
cH ffreaeurg of (Bft;a6et^an Bl^vxcb
I. SONGS FROM THE ELIZABETHAN MIS-
CELLANIES
TottelVs Miscellany. P^g^
1. Forget not yet . . . Sir Thomas Wyati 27
2. A Praise of his Love . Earl of Surrey . . 28
England's Helicon.
3. The Shepherd's Daffodil Michael Drayton . 29
4. Phillida and Corydon . Nicholas Breton . 32
5. Menaphon's Roundelay . Robert Greene . . 33
6. Colin Clout's Mournful
Ditty for the Death of
Astrophel Edmund Spenser . 35
7. To Phyllis, theFairShep-
herdess Thomas Lodge. . 36
8. Sonnet John Sylvester . . 37
9. A Palinode Edmund Bolton . 38
10. The Unknown Shep-
herd's Complaint . . '■'■ Ignoto'''' • • • 39
11. As it fell upon a day. . Richard Barnfield 41
12. Damseta's Madrig-al in
Praise of his Daphnis . John Wootton . . 43
13. A Roundelay between
Two Shepherds . . . Michael Drayton . 45
14. Sireno, a Shepherd . . Translated by Sir
Philip Sid7iey out
of ' ' Diana of
Montmaior ^' 47
15. The Shepherd's Anthem. Michael Drayton . 49
16. Another of Astrophel . Sir Philip Sidney . 50
[17] B
jR S^rcaourj of (Bfi^aBct^an Ejrice
17. Astrophcl's LovcisDcad Sir Philip Sidney . ^2
18. The l';is.sionate Shep-
herd to I lis Love . . Christopher Mur-
I010C .... 54
19. Tlic Nymph's Reply . SirWaltcrRalcigh 55
20. The Woodman's Walk Shepherd Tony
{Ayithony Miinday) 56
Davison 's Poetieal Rhapsody.
21. A Sonnet of the Moon. Charles Best . . 59
22. Of Neptune's Empire . T/ionias Campion. 60
23. When to her Lute Co-
rinna Sing's .... TJwmas Campion . 61
24. A Madriy^al. In Praise
of Two Anon .... 62
IL SONGS FROM THE ELIZABETHAN
SONG BOOKS
I A feigned friend by proof
I find William Byrd's
Song Book . . 63
2. My mind to me a king-
dom is IVilliam Byrd's
Song Book . . 64
3. I saw my lady weep . . DoivlamCs Song
Book ... 66
4. Weep you no more, sad
fountains Do7vland\s So?ig
Book .... 67
5. Flow not so fast, ye
fountains Doivland' s Soyig
Book .... 68
[18]
M txe<XBVLX^ of ^^ixhtH^ ^^xxcb
6. Awake, awake thou hea-
vy sprite Campion's Song'
Book .... 69
7. Every dame affe(5ls good
fame Campion's Song-
Book .... 69
8. Jack and Joan they think
no ill Campion's Song
Book . . . . 71
g. Never love unless you
can Campion's So?ig
Book .... 72
10. Now winter nights en-
large Campio7t's Song
Book . ■ . . 73
11. There is a garden in her
face Cam.pion's Song
Book .... 74
12. The man of life upright Campion and Ros-
siter's Song Book 75
13. When thou must home to
shades of underground Cai7ipion and Ros-
siter' s Song Book 76
14. Happy he, who to sweet
home retired .... Robert Jones' Song
Book .... 77
15. How many new years
have grown old . . . Robert Jones' Song
Book .... 78
16. The sea hath many thou-
sand sands .... Robert Jones' Song
Book .... 79
17. Mother, I will have a
husband Thomas Vautor's
Song Book . . 80
[19] B2
oB Jrcaeurg of (BfiT;(xM^an fe^rice
iS. Sweet SutVolk owl, so
trimly dii,^lit .... Thomas Vaxitor's
So// if Book . . 8 1
19. Ay me, can every rumour Jo/i// IVilbyc . . 81
20. I have house and land in
Kent Tho///as Ravc/is-
crofCs ' ' Mclis-
7//afa'' ... 82
21. The Marriag"e of the
Frog' and the Mouse . Tl/onias Rave//s-
crojfs ' ' Melis-
7/7(1 ta " . . . 84
22. The Bellman's Song . . Tho//ias Ravcns-
croffs ' ' Melis-
7/iata " . . . 86
23. The Fairies' Dance . . Tho7/ias Ravens-
croffs ' ' Brief
Discourse,'^ etc. 86
24. In midst of woods or
pleasant groves . . . /ohn Mundy . . 87
25. Shall a frown or angry
eye Willia7n Corkine . 88
26. Sister, awake! close not
your eyes Thmnas Bateson . 89
27. The love of change hath
changed the world
throughout .... Richard Carlton . 90
28. My true-love hath my
heart Sir Philip Sidney . 90
29. Fain would I change that
note A71071 91
30. Let not thy blackness
move thee to despair . Christ ChurchMS. 92
31. Yet if His Majesty, our
sovereign lord . . . Christ ChurchMS. 92
[20]
32. We must not part as
others do Egerton MS. . . 94
III. SONGS FROM THE ELIZABETHAN
DRAMATISTS AND ROMANCE WRITERS
Lyly, John, 1554-1606.
1. Cupid and my Cam-
paspe From Alexander
and Campaspe . 95
2. Spring's Welcome . . From Alexander
and Campaspe . 96
3. Song to Apollo . . . From Midas . . 97
Sidney, Sir Philip, 1 554- 1 586.
4. My sheep are thoughts From Arcadia. . 98
Peele, George, 1558-1592.
5. Cupid's Curse — "Fair
and fair and twice so
fair" FromThe Arraign-
ment of Paris . 99
6. Farewell to Arms — "His
golden locks Time hath
to silver turned " . . From Polyhymnia 100
Greene, Robert, i56o(?)-i592.
7. Ah, were she pitiful as
she is fair From Pandosto . loi
8. Sephestia's Song —
"Weep not, my wan-
ton" From Menaphon . 103
9. The Shepherd's Wife's
Song. "Ah, what is
love?" Fro7n The Mourn-
ing Garment . 104
[21]
jR ^vca&uv^ of ^^a^ct^an Ejrtce
10. Sweet are the thoughts
that savour of content . Fro?n Farewell to
Folly . . . io6
Nash, Thomas, 1 567-1601.
11. Spring, the sweet
Spring From Summer^s
Last Will and
Testament . .107
12. \Vinter,Plagueand Pes-
tilence From Summer's
Last Will and
Testament . .108
Shakespeare, William, 1 564-1616.
13. When icicles hang . From Love's La-
hour's Lost . . 109
14. Who is Silvia? . . . From The T700 Gen-
tlemen of Vero?ia 1 10
15. Ye spotted snakes . From A Midsuin-
mer Night's
Dreayn. . . .111
16. Tell me where is fancy
bred From The Mer-
chant of Venice . 112
17. Sigh no more, ladies. . From Much Ado
Abmit Nothing . 112
18. Under the greenwood
tree From As You Like
It 113
19. Blow, blow, thou winter
wind From As You Like
Lt 114
20. It was a lover and his
lass From As You Like
It 115
[22]
Jl ZuABux^ of &i'^(xhi^(Xn Bl^xxcb
21. O Mistress mine . . From Twelfth
Night. . . .116
22. Come away, come
away, death .... From Twelfth
Night. . . .116
23. Take, Oh take those ^
Hps away From Meastire for
Measure . . .117
24. How should I your true
love know? .... From Hamlet . . :i8
25. Hark, hark! the lark . From, Cyfube line . 118
26. Fearno more the heat o'
the sun From Cynnheline . 119
27. Come unto these yellow
sands Froin The Tem-
pest . . . .120
28. Full fathom five . . . Fro?n The 7V;«-
• pest . . . .120
29. Where the bee sucks . Fro?n The Tem-
pest . . . .121
30. When daffodils begin
to peer From The Winter's
Tale . . . .121
3^- Jo§" on, jog" on . . . From The Winter's
Tale . . . .122
32. Lawn as white as driven
snow From The Winter's
Tale . . . .123
33. Will you buy any tape? Froyyi The Winter's
Tale . . . .123
34. Orpheus with his lute . Frofn King Henry
VHI .... 124
[23]
otl Jrcacurg of (Efi^aBct^dn &jric6
Loi/^'V, T/io/nus, 1556- 1625.
35. Rosalynde'smadrii^al —
" Love in my bosom
like a bee " .... From Rosalyndc . 125
36. A turtle sat upon a
^leafless tree .... From Rosalynde . 126
Bcfi Jonson, 1 573-^637.
37. Echo's Lament of Nar-
cissus — "Slow, slow
fresh fount " . . . . From Cynthia's
Revels. . . .128
38. Still to be neat . . . Frofn T/ie Silent
IVotnan . . .128
Dekkcr, T/wmas, i575(?)-i640.
9. Content — " Art thou
poor?" From Patient Gri-
sel 129
^o. Lullaby — "Golden
Slumbers kiss your
eyes " From Patient Gri-
sel 1 30
41. Rustic Song — "Hay-
makers, rakers ". . . From Stin's Dar-
liyig .... 131
Heyimod^ Thomas, 1574- 1650.
42. Pack, clouds, away . . From The Rape of
Lucrece . . .133
43. Ye little Birds . . . From The Fair
Maid of the Ex-
change . . .134
Fletcher, fohn, 1579-1625.
44. Weep no more, nor
sigh, nor groan . . . From The Queen
of Corinth . .135
[24]
«S SreaBurg of Sft^aBet^an Bl^xUb
45. Hence, all you vain de-
lights From the Nice Va-
lour . . . .136
46. Care-charming Sleep,
thou easer of all woes . From Valentinian. 137
47. God Lyaeus ever young From Valeyiiinian. 137
Shakespeare and Fletcher.
48. Roses, their sharp spines
being gone .... From Two Noble
KinsTnen . . .138
Beaumont (i 585-1616) and Fletcher.
49. Lay a garland on my
hearse From The Maid's
Tragedy . . .139
Ford^John, i586-i64o(?).
50. Calantha's Dirge —
"Glories, pleasures,
pomps, delights and
ease" From The Broken
Heart. . . . 140
51. Awakening Song —
" Fly hence, shadows " From, The Lover's
Melancholy . .141
Shirley, James, 1 596-1666.
52. The Last Conqueror —
" Vidtorious men of
earth" From. Cupid ayid
Death. . . .141
53. The glories of our blood
and state From The Conten-
tion of Ajax and
Ulysses . . .142
[25]
M ffteaBut^ of (Bfi-^aUt^an fegrics
PARTI
^onge front t^t &ii^a$H^an
F
I
FORGET NOT YET
ORGET not yet the tried intent
Of such a truth as I have meant;
My g-reat travail so gladly spent,
Forget not yet !
Forget not yet when first began
The weary life ye know, since whan
The suit, the service, none tell can;
Forget not yet!
Forget not yet the great assays,
The cruel wrong, the scornful ways,
The painful patience in delays!
Forget not yet !
Forget not! oh! forget not this! —
How long ago hath been, and is.
The mind that never meant amiss!
Forget not yet !
[27]
H Srcaourj^ of &i-^CiUt^(Xn fe^rice
Forget not then thine own approved !
The which so long hath thee so loved;
Whose steadfast faith yet never moved!
Forget not yet !
Sir Thomas Wyatt.
II
A PRAISE OF HIS LOVE
[Wherein he reproveth them that compare their
ladies with his.]
GIVE place, ye lovers, here before
That spent your boasts and brags in vain :
I\Iy lady's beauty passeth more
The best of yours, I dare well sayen,
Than doth the sun the candle light,
Or brightest day the darkest night.
And thereto hath a troth as just
As had Penelope the fair;
For what she saith, ye may it trust,
As it by writing sealed were :
And virtues hath she many moe
Than I with pen have skill to show.
I could rehearse, if that I would,
The whole effect of Nature's plaint.
When she had lost the perfect mould,
The like to whom she could not paint:
With wringing hands how she did cry.
And what she said, I know it, I.
[28]
il Jteacurg of (Bft^aBet^an ^gric0
I know she swore with raging mind,
"Her kingdom only set apart;
There was no loss, by law of kind.
That could have gone so near her heart! "
And this was chiefly all her pain ;
She could not make the like again !
Sith Nature thus gave her the praise,
To be the chiefest work she wrought;
In faith, methinks! some better ways
On your behalf might well be sought,
Than to compare, as ye have done.
To match the candle with the sun.
Earl of Surrey.
Ill
THE SHEPHERD'S DAFFODIL
Batte
ORBO, as thou cam'st this way
By yonder little hill.
Or as thou through the fields didst stray,
Saw'st thou my daffodil ?
G
She's in a frock of Lincoln-green,
The colour maids delight;
And never hath her beauty seen
But through a veil of white,
[29]
Than rose.s richer to behold
That dress up lovers' bovvers;
The pansy and the marigold
Are Phoebus' paramours.
GORBO
Thou well describ'st the daffodil,
It is not full an hour
Since by the spring near yonder hill
I saw that lovely flower.
Batte
Yet with my flower thou didst not meet,
Nor news of her dost bring;
Yet is my daffodil more sweet
Than that by yonder spring.
GORBO
I saw a shepherd, that doth keep
In yonder field of lilies,
Was making (as he fed his sheep)
A wreath of daffodillies.
Batte
Yet, Gorbo, thou delud'st me still,
j\Iy flower thou didst not see;
For know, my pretty daffodil
Is worn of none but me.
[30]
il ^t:ea0urg of ^i-^aUt^an ^gtice
To show itself but near her seat
No lily is so bold;
Except to shade her from the heat,
Or keep her from the cold.
GORBO
Through yonder vale as I did pass,
Descending from the hill,
I met a smirking bonny lass;
They call her Daffodil.
Whose presence as along she went.
The pretty flowers did greet;
As though their heads they downward bent
With homage to her feet.
And all the shepherds that were nigh,
From top of every hill,
Unto the valleys loud did cry,
"There goes sweet Daffodil!"
Batte
Ay, gentle shepherd, now with joy
Thou all my flock dost fill;
Come, go with me, thou shepherd's boy.
Let us to Daffodil.
Michael Drayton.
[31]
cS ijrcaeurg of &fiT;<xUtf^(Xn £jric6
IV
PHILLIDA AND CORYDON
IN the merry month of May,
In a morn by break ot day,
Forth I walked by the wood-side,
When as May was in his pride:
There I spiM all alone
Phillida and Corydon.
Much ado there was, God wot,
He would love and she would not,
She said, never man was true.
He said, none was false to you.
He said, he had loved her long.
She said, Love should have no wrong.
Corydon would kiss her then.
She said maids must kiss no men,
Till they did for good and all;
Then she made the shepherd call
All the heavens to witness truth;
Never loved a truer youth.
Thus with many a pretty oath.
Yea and nay, and faith and troth.
Such as silly shepherds use
When they will not love abuse.
Love which had been long deluded,
Was with kisses sweet concluded.
And Phillida with garlands gay.
Was made the lady of the May.
Nicholas Breton.
[32]
M tvcasux^ of (Bfi^aBet^an £grtc6
V
MENAPHON'S ROUNDELAY
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 men can have :
I say. Love,
Sower 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 minute's joys are monthly woes :
[33]
oB vtrcctDurg of (Bi\%Ck^cti^<xn £gric6
'Tis not sweet,
That is sweet
Xowherebut where repentance grows.
Then love who list, if Beauty be so sower;
Labour for me, Love rest in prince's
bower.
Robert Greene.
[34]
il ZxcdBux^ of (Bfi^afiet^an Egrice
VI
COLIN CLOUT'S MOURNFUL DITTY FOR
THE DEATH OF ASTROPHEL
SHEPHERDS that wont on pipes of oaten
reed
Ofttimes to plain yourlove's concealed smart,
And with your piteous lays have learnt to breed
Compassion in a country lass's heart:
Hearken, ye gentle shepherds, to my song,
And place my doleful plaint your plaints
among.
To you alone I sing this mournful verse,
The mournfull'st verse that ever man heard
tell;
To you whose softened hearts it may impierce
With dolour's dart for death of Astrophel:
To you I sing, and to none other wight.
For, well I wot, my rhymes been rudely dight.
Yet as they been, if any nicer wit
Shall hap to hear or covet them to read,
Think he that such are for such ones most fit,
Made not to please the living but the dead:
And if in him found pity ever place,
Let him be moved to pity such a case.
Edmu7id Spenser.
[35] C2
jB, itrcaourg of (Ei'i^aBct^an ^grice
VII
TO PHYLLIS, THE FAIR SHEPHERDESS
V Phyllis hath the morning Sun,
At first to look ui3on her;
And Phyllis hath morn-waking birds,
Her rising still to honour.
My Phyllis hath prime-feathered flowers,
That smile when she treads on them;
And Phyllis hath a gallant flock,
That leaps since she doth own them.
But Phyllis hath too hard a heart,
Alas, that she should have it!
It yields no mercy to desert.
Nor grace to those that crave it.
Sweet Sun, when thou look'st on,
Pray her regard my moan!
Sweet birds, when you sing to her,
To yield some pity, woo her!
Sweet flowers, that she treads on,
Tell her her beauty deads one.
And if in life her love she nill agree me,
Pray her before I die, she will come see
me.
Thomas Lodge.
[36]
dE Zvtamt^ of &x^<xUt^an Egrtce
VIII
SONNET
WERE I as base as is the lowly plain,
And you, my love, as high as heaven
above.
Yet should the thoughts of me, your humble
swain.
Ascend to heaven in honour of my love.
Were I as high as heaven above the plain,
And you, my love, as humble and as low
As are the deepest bottoms of the main,
Wheresoe'er you were, with you, my love,
should go.
Were you the earth, dear love, and I the skies,
My love should shine on you like to the sun.
And look upon you with ten thousand eyes,
Till heaven waxed blind, and till the world
were done.
Wheresoe'er I am, below or else above you,
Wheresoe'er you are, my heart shall truly
love you.
y. Sylvester.
[37]
cS vTiwiourg of (Bl'i^aBcfBan fejrico
A
IX
A PALINODE
S witherctli tlie primrose by the river.
As fadeth summer's sun from gliding
fountains,
As vanisheth the light-blown bubble ever,
As melteth snow upon the mossy mountains:
So melts, so vanisheth, so fades, so withers,
The rose, the shine, the bubble and the snow,
Of praise, pomp, glory, joy, which short life
gathers,
Fair praise, vain pomp, sweet glory, brittle
joy.
The withered primrose by the mourning river,
The faded summer's sun from weeping foun-
tains,
The light-blown bubble, vanished for ever,
The molten snow upon the naked mountains,
Are emblems that the treasures we uplay.
Soon wither, vanish, fade, and melt away.
For as the snow, whose lawn did overspread
Th' ambitious hills, which giant-like did threat
To pierce the heaven with their aspiring
head,
Naked and bare doth leave their craggy
seat:
[38]
il Zuaeinv^ of &^(xUt^an ^^rtca
When as the bubble, which did empty fly,
The dalliance of the undiscerned wind,
On whose calm, rolling waves it did rely,
Hath shipwreck made where it did dalliance
find;
And when the sunshine which dissolved the
snow.
Coloured the bubble with a pleasant vary.
And madethe rathe and timely primrose grow,
Swarth clouds withdraw, which long'er time do
tarry:
O what is praise, pomp, glory, joy, but so
As shine by fountains, bubbles, flowers, or
snow r
Edmund Bolton.
X
THE UNKNOWN SHEPHERD'S COMPLAINT
MY flocks feed not, my ewes breed not,
My rams speed not, all is amiss:
Love is denying, Faith is defying;
Heart's renying, causer of this.
All my merry jigs are quite forgot,
All my lady's love is lost, God wot;
Where her faith was firmly fixed in love.
There a nay is placed without remove.
One silly cross wrought all my loss;
O frowning fortune, cursed fickle dame!
For now I see inconstancy
More in women than in men remain.
[39]
oR vTrcaourg of (Bft^aficfCan Enrico
In black mourn I, all fears scorn I,
Love hath forlorn mc, living in thrall;
Heart is bleeding, all help needing,
O cruel speeding, fraughted with gall.
My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal,
My wether's bell rings doleful knell,
My curtail dog that wont to have played.
Plays not at all, but seems afraid;
With sighs so deep, procures to weep.
In howling-wise to see my doleful plight.
How sighs resound, through heartless
ground,
Like a thousand vanquished men in
bloody fight!
Clear wells spring not, sweet birds sing not,
Green plants bring not forth their dye;
Herds stand weeping, flocks all sleeping,
Nymphs back peeping fearfully.
All our pleasure known to us poor swains,
All our merry meeting on the plains,
All our evening sports from us are fled,
All our love is lost, for Love is dead.
Farewell, sweet Love, thy like ne'er was.
For sweet content, the cause of all my
moan:
Poor Corydon must live alone;
Other help for him, I see that there is
none.
Ignoto.
[40]
<H ^reaeurg of &i^<xUt^an i^gtrice
XI
AS IT FELL UPON A DAY
AS it fell upon a day,
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made.
Beasts did leap and birds did sing,
Trees did grow and plants did spring;
Everything did banish moan
Save the Nightingale alone.
She, poor bird, as all forlorn.
Leaned her breast up-till a thorn.
And there sung the dolefull'st ditty
That to hear it was great pity.
Fieyfie^fiey now would she cry;
Teru, teru, by and by:
That to hear her so complain
Scarce I could from tears refrain ;
For her griefs so lively shown
Made me think upon mine own.
— "Ah," thought I, "thou mourn'st in vain,
None takes pity on thy pain ;
Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee.
Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee;
King Pandion, he is dead.
All thy friends are lapped in lead :
All thy fellow birds do sing
Careless of thy sorrowing:
[41]
il <!^i\MOurj> of (Bfi^aBcfBan ferric©
Even so, poor bird, like thee
None alive will pity me.
Whilst as fickle Fortune smiled,
Thou and I were both beguiled.
Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in miser}'.
Words are easy, like the wind;
Faithful friends are hard to find:
Ever}' man will be thy friend
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend;
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call,
And with such-like flattering,
' Pity but he were a King;'
If he be addict to vice.
Quickly him they will entice;
If to women he be bent,
They have at commandement;
But if Fortune once do frown.
Then farewell his great renown;
They that fawned on him before
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need:
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep;
Thus of every grief in heart
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe."
RicJiard Barnfield.
[42]
il Creaeur^ of &i'^aht^an £^nc0
XII
DAM^TA'S MADRIGAL IN PRAISE OF HIS
DAPHNIS
TUNE on my pipe the praises of my love,
Love fair and bright;
Fill earth with sound, and airy heavens above,
Heaven's Jove's delight,
With Daphnis' praise.
To pleasant Tempe groves and plains about.
Plains shepherds' pride
Resounding echoes of her praise ring out.
Ring far and wide
My Daphnis' praise.
When I begin to sing, begin to sound!
Sound loud and shrill !
Do make each note upon the skies rebound!
Skies calm and still.
With Daphnis' praise.
Her tresses are like wires of beaten gold,
Gold bright and sheen;
Like Nisus' golden hair that Scylla polled,
Scylla o'erseen
Through Minos' love.
[43]
cH vTrcacur^j of (Sft^aBcf^an S^rtcc
Her eyes like shining- lamps in midst of night,
Night dark and dead,
Or as the stars that give the seamen light,
Light for to lead
Their wand'ring ships.
Amidst her cheeks the rose and lily strive,
Lily snow-white,
When their contend doth make their colour
thrive,
Colour too bright
For shepherds' eyes.
Her lips like scarlet of the finest dye,
Scarlet blood-red;
Teeth white as snow which on the hills doth lie,
Hills overspread
By Winter's force.
Her skin as soft as is the finest silk,
Silk soft and fine,
Of colour like unto the whitest milk.
Milk of the kine
Of Daphnis' herd.
As swift of foot as is the pretty roe,
Roe swift of pace,
When yelping hounds pursue her to and fro,
Hounds fierce in chase.
To reave her life.
[44]
cH ^reaeur^ of &i^aUt^an ^^rtce
Cease, tongues, to tell of any more compares.
Compares too rude,
Daphnis' deserts and beauty are too rare :
Then here conclude
Fair Daphnis' praise.
y. Wooitoii.
XIII
A ROUNDELAY BETWEEN TWO SHEPHERDS
First Shep.
TELL me, thou gentle shepherd swain,
Who's yonder in the vale is set?
Second Shep.
Oh, it is she, whose sweets do stain
The lily, rose, the violet !
First Shep.
Why doth the sun against his kind
Fix his bright chariot in" the skies r
Second Shep.
Because the sun is stricken blind
With looking on her heavenly eyes.
First Shep.
Why do thy flocks forbear their food.
Which sometime were thy chief delight r
[45]
Second Shei'.
Because they need no other good
That live in presence of her sight.
First Shep.
Why look these flowers so pale and ill,
That once attired this goodly heath ?
Second Shep.
She hath robbed nature of her skill,
And sweetens all things with her breath.
First Shep.
Why slide these brooks so slow away,
Whose bubbling murmurs pleased thine ear i
Second Shep.
Oh, marvel not although they stay,
When they her heavenly voice do hear!
First Shep.
From whence come all these shepherd swains,
And lovely nymphs attired in green?
[46]
Second Shep.
From gathering garland^ on the plains,
To crown our fair the shepherds' queen.
Both
The sun that lights this world below,
Flocks, flowers, and brooks will witness bear:
These nymphs and shepherds all do know,
That it is she is only fair.
Michael Drayton.
XIV
SIRENO, A SHEPHERD
Having a lock of his fair nymph's hair wrapt about with
green silk, mourns thus in a love-ditty.
WHAT changes here, O hair,
I see since I saw you!
How ill fits you this green to wear,
For hope the colour due!
Indeed, I well did hope,
Though hope were mixed with fear,
No other shepherd should have scope
Once to approach this heare.
[47]
cH ^rcaour^ of <Bi\y\^ct^an Bl^vxcb
Ah liair! how many days
My Dian made me show,
With thousand pretty childish plays,
If I ware you or no!
Alas! how oft with tears,
(Oh, tears of g'uileful breast!)
She seem6d full of jealous fears,
Whereat I did but jest!
Tell me, O hair of gold.
If I then faulty be,
That trust those killing eyes I would,
Since they did warrant me?
Have you not seen her mood.
What streams of tears she spent,
Till that I sware my faith so stood,
As her words had it bent ?
Who hath such beauty seen.
In one that changeth sor
Or where one's love so constant been,
Who ever saw such woe?
Ah, hairs, are you not grieved,
To come from whence you be,
Seeing how once you saw I lived,
To see me as you see?
On sandy bank of late,
I saw this woman sit,
Where, sooner die than change my state^
She with her finger writ.
[48]
il Zuaeut^ of &i'^(xU(^an ^grice
Thus my belief was stayed
(Behold Love's mighty hand)
On things were by a woman said
And written in the sand !
Translated by Sir Philip Sidney^ out of ^^ Dia^ia
of Montmaior."
XV
THE SHEPHERD'S ANTHEM
NEAR to a bank with roses set about,
Where pretty turtles joining bill to bill,
And gentle springs steal softly murmuring out,
Washing the foot of pleasure's sacred hill,
There little love sore wounded lies,
His bow and arrows broken,
Bedewed with tears from Venus' eyes ;
Oh, that it should be spoken !
Bear him my heart, slain with her scornful eye.
Where sticks the arrow that poor hart did
kill,
With whose sharp pile, yet will him ere he die,
About my heart to write his latest will.
And bid him send it back to me,
At instant of his dying,
That cruel, cruel she may see.
My faith and her denying.
[49] D
cH ^rcaouv^ of (BTt^aBc^Dan Enrico
His hearse shall be a mournful cypress shade,
And for a chantry Philomel's sweet lay;
Where prayer shall continually be made
By pili^rim lovers passing by that way,
With nymphs' and shepherds' yearly moan,
His timeless death bcweeping;
And telling tliat my heart alone
Hath his last will in keeping.
Michael Drayton.
XVI
ANOTHER OF ASTROPHEL
THE nightingale as soon as April bringeth
Unto her rested sense a perfect waking.
While late-bare earth, proud of new clothing,
springeth.
Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book
making;
And mournfully bewailing,
Her throat in tunes expresseth
What grief her breast oppresseth
For Tereus' force on her chaste will pre-
vailing.
O Philomela fair, O take some gladness,
That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness;
Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;
Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart in-
vadeth.
[50]
cH ZvcaQixv^ of &i^aU(^an ^^vke
Alas, she hath no other cause of anguish
But Tereus' love, on her by strong hand
wroken.
Wherein she suffering, all her spirits languish.
Full womanlike complains her will was
broken.
But I, who, daily craving,
Cannot have to content me,
Have more cause to lament me,
Since wanting is more woe than too much
having.
O Philomela fair, O take some gladness
That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness ;
Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth ;
Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart in-
vadeth .
Si^ Philip Sidney.
[51] D2
dR vTrcaour^ of (Bi!iy\^cti]cin £j)ric0
XVTT
ASTROPHEL'S LOVE IS DEAD
RING out your bells, let mourning shews be
spread ;
For Love is dead:
All love is dead, infected
With plague of deep disdain :
Worth, as nought worth, rejected,
And Faith fair scorn doth gain.
From so ungrateful fancy,
From such a female frenzy,
From them that use men thus,
Good Lord, deliver us!
Weep, neighbours, weep; do you not hear it
said
That Love is dead?
His death-bed, peacock's folly;
His winding sheet is shame;
His will, false-seeming holy,
His sole exec'tor, blame.
From so ungrateful fancy.
From such a female frenzy.
From them that use men thus,
Good Lord, deliver us!
[52]
il Zvcaeuv^ of &i^ahi^an Bl^xxcg
Let dirg-e be sung and trentals rightly read,
For Love is dead:
Sir Wrong his tomb ordaineth
My mistress' marble heart;
Which epitaph containeth,
**Her eyes were once his dart."
From so ungrateful fancy,
From such a female frenzy.
From them that use men thus.
Good Lord, deliver us !
Alas, I lie; rage hath this error bred;
Love is not dead :
Love is not dead, but sleepeth
In her unmatched mind,
Where she his counsel keepeth
Till due deserts she find.
Therefore from so vile fancy.
To call such wit a frenzy,
Who Love can temper thus,
Good Lord, deliver us.
Sir Pliilip Sidney.
[53]
jR Zrcamv^ of &i'^a^H[}an E^rice
XVIII
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
CO.MJ'l live witli me, and be my love;
And we will all tlie 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
jMelodious 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;
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;
An if these pleasures may thee move.
Come live with me, and be my love.
[54]
cS ZvtaQuv^ of &i^(xU(^<xn ^^trtce
The shepherd-swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
Christopher Marlcnve.
I
XIX
THE NYMPH'S REPLY
F all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love.
But time drives flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold ;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning' yields;
A honey tongue, a heart of gall.
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies.
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten, -
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
[55]
cH vTrcacur^ of (Efi3aBc(6an ^^rico
Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs, —
All those in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.
But could youth last, and love still breed:
Had joys no date, nor age no need:
Then those delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.
Sir Walter Raleigh.
XX
THE WOODMAN'S WALK
THROUGH a fair forest as I went
Upon a summer's day,
I met a woodman quaint and gent,
Yet in a strange array.
I marvelled much at his disguise.
Whom I did know so well ;
But thus in terms both grave and wise,
His mind he 'g'an to tell.
Friend, muse not at this fond array,
Bui list awhile to me;
For it hath holp me to survey
What I shall show to thee;
Long lived 1 in this forest fair.
Till weary of my weal.
Abroad in walks I would repair,
As now I will reveal.
[56]
<S Zxcamt^ of (Eft3a6e^5an ^^rice
My first day's walk was to the Court,
Where beauty fed mine eyes;
Yet found I that the courtly sport
Did mask in sly disguise.
For falsehood sat in fairest looks,
And friend to friend was coy;
Court favour filled but empty books
And there I found no joy.
Desert went naked in the cold
When crouching craft was fed ;
Sweet words were cheaply bought and sold,
But none that stood in stead.
Wit was employed for each man's own,
Plain meaning came too short;
All these devices seen and known,
Made me forsake the Court.
Unto the city next I went,
In hope of better hap;
Where liberally I launched and spent.
As set on fortune's lap.
The little stock I had in store
Methought would ne'er be done;
Friends flocked about me more and more,
As quickly lost as won.
For when I spent then they were kind,
But when my purse did fail.
The foremost man came last behind;
Thus love with wealth doth quail.
Once more for footing yet I strove,
Although the world did frown,
But they before that held me up,
Together trod me down.
[57]
jB, Crcaourj) of (Bri5aBc(t)an Enrico
And lest once more I should arise,
Tliey sought my quite decay;
Then got 1 into tliis disguise,
And thence, 1 stole away.
And in my mind, me.hought, I said.
Lord bless me from the city !
Where simpleness is thus betrayed
And no remorse or pity.
Yet would I not give over so,
But once more try my fate,
And to the country then I go,
To live in quiet state.
There did appear no subtle shows,
But yea and nay went smoothly;
But, Lord, how country folks can glose,
When they speak most soothly!
More craft was in a buttoned cap,
And in an old wive's sail.
Than in my life it was my hap
To see on down or dale.
There was no open forgery.
But underhanded gleaning;
Which they call country policy,
But hath a worser meaning.
Some good bold face bears out the wrong,
Because he gains thereby;
The poor man's back is cracked ere long.
Yet there he lets him lie;
And no degree among them all
But had such close intending;
That I upon my knees did fall.
And prayed for their amending.
[58]
^ Zxcaexiv^ of &i'^aUt^an B.^tice
Back to the woods I got again,
In mind perplexed sore,
Where I found ease of all this pain,
And mean to stray no more.
There city, court nor country too.
Can anyway annoy me;
But as a woodman ought to do,
I freely may employ me.
There live I quietly alone,
And none to trip my talk;
AVherefore when I am dead and gone,
Think on the woodman's walk.
Shepherd Tony.
XXI
A SONNET OF THE MOON
LOOK how the pale Queen of the silent
night
Doth cause the ocean to attend upon her,
And he as long as she is in his sight.
With his full tide is ready her to honour:
But when the silver waggon of the Moon
Is mounted up so high he cannot follow.
The sea calls home his crystal waves to moan,
And with low ebb doth manifest his sorrow;
[59]
jR vTrcaoun) of (BTi^aGciflKin &j)ric0
So ycni, that aro tho sovereigri of my heart,
1 lave all my joys attending- on your will ;
Mv jo)'.s low-ebbintj when you do depart,
Wlien you return, their tide my heart doth fill;
So as you come, and as you do depart,
Joys ebb and flow within my tender heart.
Charles Best.
XXII
OF NEPTUNE'S EMPIRE LET US SING
OF Neptune's empire let us sing.
At whose command the waves obey:
To whom the rivers tribute pay,
Down the high mountains sliding:
To whom the scaly nation yields
Homage for the crystal fields
Wherein they dwell;
And every sea-god pays a gem
Yearly out of his watsry cell.
To deck great Neptune's diadem.
The Tritons dancing in a ring,
Before his palace gates do make
The water with their echoes quake,
Like the great thunder sounding:
The sea-nymphs chaunt their accents shrill,
And the Syrens, taught to kill
[60]
M ^reaaurj) of &i^aht^an ^^rice
With their sweet voice,
Make every echoing rock reply,
Unto their g'entle murmuring noise.
The praise of Neptune's empery.
Thomas Campion.
XXIII
WHEN TO HER LUTE CORINNA SINGS
WHEN to her lute Corinna sings,
Her voice revives the leaden strings,
And doth in highest notes appear
As any challenged echo clear.
But when she doth of mourning speak
E'en with her sighs the strings do break.
And as her lute doth live and die.
Led by her passions, so must I:
For when of pleasure she doth sing.
My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring;
But if she doth of sorrow speak,
E'en from my heart the strings do break.
Thomas Campion.
6i]
oR vTrcaour^ of (Bri^aBctBan £j)Vtc0
XXIV
MADRIGAL. IN PRAISE OF TWO
FAUSTINA hath the fairer face,
And Phillida the feater grace;
Both have mine eye enriched:
This sings full sweetly with her voice,
Ilcr fingers make as sweet a noise:
Both have mine ear bewitched.
Ah me! sith Fates have so provided,
My heart, alas! must be divided.
Anon.
[62]
il Ztcaent^ of &i^(xUt^(Xn B^^nce
PART II
^on^B from i^t
I
A FEIGNED FRIEND BY PROOF I FIND
A FEIGNED friend by proof I find
To be a greater foe
Than he that with a spiteful mind
Doth seek my overthrow;
For of the one I can beware,
With craft the other breeds my care.
Such men are like the hidden rocks
Which in the seas doth lie,
Against the which each ship that knocks
Is drowned suddenly:
No greater fraud nor more unjust
Than false deceit hid under trust.
Fro7n William Byrd^s
Psalms, Songs and Sonnets.
[63]
oR vTrcaouv^ of (Bl'i^aGcflian Bl^vxco
M
II
MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS
Y niiiul to nie a kingdom is,
Such present joys therein I find,
That it excels all other bliss
That earth affords or grows by kind :
Though much I want which most would have,
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
No princely pomp, no wealthy store.
No force to win the victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,
No shape to feed a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall:
For why r IMy mind doth serve for all.
I see how plenty surfeits oft,
And hasty climbers soon do fall ;
I see that those which are aloft
Mishap doth threaten most of all ;
They get with toil, they keep with fear ;
Such cares my mind could never bear.
Content to live, this is my stay;
I seek no more than may suffice ;
I press to bear no haughty sway;
Look, what I lack, my mind supplies:
Lo, thus I triumph like a king.
Content with that my mind doth bring.
[64]
il Zvcaewt^ of &^<xUt^(Xn &^nc0
Some have too much, yet still do crave;
I little have, and seek no more.
They are but poor, though much they have,
And I am rich with little store;
They poor, I rich; they beg, I give;
They lack, I leave; they pine, I live.
I laugh not at another's loss;
I grudge not at another's pain;
No worldly waves my mind can toss ;
My state at one doth still remain :
I fear no foe, I fawn no friend;
I loathe not life, nor dread my end.
Some weigh their pleasure by their lust,
Their wisdom by their rage of will;
Their treasure is their only trust;
A cloaked craft their store of skill ;
But all the pleasure that I find
Is to maintain a quiet mind.
My wealth is health and perfect ease;
My conscience clear my chief defence;
I neither seek by bribes to please.
Nor by deceit to breed offence:
Thus do I live; thus will I die;
Would all did so as well as I.
Str Edward Dyer.
Win. Byrd's Song Book.
[65]
oR ^Trcaour^ of (Bfi5afictBan fepricD
I
III
I SAW MY LADY WEEP
SAW my lady weep,
And Sorrow proud to be advancM so
In those fair eyes where all perfections keep.
Her face was full of woe,
But such a woe (believe me) 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.
A 11011.
Dowland's Sang Book.
[66]
il Znamt^ of BU^aUt^an £^ric0
IV
WEEP YOU NO MORE, SAD FOUNTAINS
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 setsr
Rest you, then, rest, sad eyes!
Melt not in weeping!
While she lies sleeping
Softly, now softly lies.
Sleeping.
Do7vIa)id's Sono- Book.
[67] E2
oR vTrcaourp of (Bix^a^ct^an B^price
V
FLOW NOT so FAST, YE FOUNTAINS
FLOW not so fast, ye fountains;
Wliat ne?edeth all this haste?
Swell not above your mountains,
Nor spend )^our time in waste.
Gentle springs, freshly your salt tears
Must still fall, dropping from their spheres.
Weep they apace, whom Reason
Or lingering Time can ease:
My sorrow can no season,
Nor ought besides appease.
Gentle springs, freshly your salt tears
Must still fall, dropping from their spheres.
Time can abate the terror
Of every common pain:
But common grief is error,
True grief will still remain.
Gentle springs, freshly your salt tears
Must still fall, dropping from their spheres.
I^ro?H John Do'u.'linid's TJiird Book of Songs .
[68]
il ^reaeur^ of &i^aUt^<xn %nc6
VI
AWAKE, AWAKE! THOU HEAVY SPRITE
AAVAKE, awake! thou heavy sprite
That sleep'st the deadly sleep of sin !
Rise now and walk the ways of light,
'Tis not too late yet to begin.
Seek heaven early, seek it late;
True Faith finds still an open gate.
Get up, get up thou leaden man!
Thy track, to endless joy or pain.
Yields but the model of a span;
Yet burns out thy life's lamp in vain!
One minute bounds thy bane or bliss;
Then watch and labour while time is.
Campion's Song' Book.
VII
EVERY DAME AFFECTS GOOD FAME
EVERY dame affects good fame, whate'er
her doings be,
But true praise is Virtue's bays, which none
may wear but she.
[69]
dR ^rcaourp of <Bfi5a6c(6an fe^rica
liorrowed guise fits not tlie wise, a simple look
is best;
Native grace becomes a face though ne'er so
rudely drest.
Nowsuch new-found toys are sold these women
to disguise,
That before the year grows old the newest
fashion dies.
Dames of yore contended more in goodness to
exceed,
Than in pride to be envied for that which least
they need,
Little lawn then serve[d] the Pawn, if Pawn at
all there were;
Homespun thread and household bread then
held out all the year.
But th' attires of women now wear out both
house and land;
That the wives in silk may flow, at ebb the
good men stand.
Once again Astroed ! then from heaven to earth
descend,
And vouchsafe in their behalf these errors to
amend.
Aid from heaven must make all even, things
are so out of frame;
For let man strive all he can, he needs must
please his dame.
[70]
■^
cE ^reaeur^ of &i^aUt^<xn Entice
Happy man ! content that gives and what he
gives enjoys !
Happy dame, content that lives and breaks no
sleep for toys !
Camp-on's Song Book.
VIH
JACK AND JOAN, THEY THINK NO ILL
JACK and Joan, they think no ill,
But loving live, and merry still;
Do their weekday's work and pray
Devoutly on the holy-day:
Skip and trip it on the green,
And help to choose the Summer Queen;
Lash out at a country feast
Their silver penny with the best.
Well can they judge of nappy ale,
And tell at large a winter tale;
Climb up to the apple loft.
And turn the crabs till they be soft.
Tib is all the father's joy.
And little Tom the mother's boy: —
All their pleasure is, Content,
And care, to pay their yearly rent.
Joan can call by name her cows
And deck her windows with green boughs;
She can wreaths and tutties make,
And trim with plums a bridal cake.
[71]
Jark knows what brings gain or loss,
And liis long ilail can stoutly toss:
Makes the hedge whicli others break,
And ever thinks what he doth speak.
Now you courtly dames and knights,
That study only strange delights,
Though you scorn the homespun gray,
And revel in your rich array;
Though your tongues dissemble deep
And can your heads from danger keep;
Yet, for all your pomp and train,
Securer lives the silly swain !
Thomas Cauipion.
IX
NEVER LOVE UNLESS YOU CAN
NEVER love unless you can
Bear with all the faults of man!
Men sometimes will jealous be
Though but little cause they see,
And hang the head as discontent,
And speak what straight they will repent.
Men, that but one Saint adore,
Make a show of love to more;
Beauty must be scorned in none,
Though but truly served in one:
For what is courtship but disguise?
True hearts may have dissembling eyes.
[72]
cH ZnaevLt^ of &^(xUt^<xn fe^rice
Men, when their affairs require
Must awhile themselves retire;
Sometimes hunt, and sometimes hawk.
And not ever sit and talk: —
If these and such-like you can bear,
Then like, and love, and never fear!
Thomas Campion.
X
NOW WINTER NIGHTS ENLARGE
NOW winter nights enlarge
The number of their hours,
And clouds their storms discharge
Upon the airy towers.
Set now the chimneys blaze.
And cups o'erflow with wine;
Let well-tuned words amaze
With harmony divine.
Now yellow waxen lights
Shall wait on honey love,
While youthful revels, masques and courtly
sights
Sleep's leaden spells remove.
This time doth well dispense
With lovers' long discourse;
Much speech hath some defence
Though beauty no remorse.
[73]
oR vTrcaour^ of (Bl't3a6ctBan ^prtco
All do not all thing's well;
vSome measures comely tread,
Some knotted riddles tell,
Some poems smoothly read.
The summer hath his joys
And winter his delights;
Though love and all his pleasures are but
toys.
They shorten tedious nights.
T. Campion.
Campion's Song Book.
XI
THERE IS A GARDEN IN HER FACE
THERE is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is that place.
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow;
There cherries grow that none may buy
Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.
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.
Yet them no peer nor prince may buy.
Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.
[74]
cH ^naeut:^ of &x}(xUt^an ^^nce
Her eyes like angels watch them still;
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
All that attempt with e3^e or hand
These sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry !
Campion' s Softg Book.
XII
THE MAN OF LIFE UPRIGHT
THE man of life upright,
Whose guiltless heart is free
From all dishonest deeds,
Or thought of vanity;
The man whose silent days
In harmless joys are spent,
Whom hopes cannot delude.
Nor sorrow discontent,
That man needs neither towers
Nor armour for defence,
Nor secret vaults to fly
From thunder's violence:
He only can behold
With unafifrighted eyes
The horrors of the deep
And terrors of the skies.
[75]
Jl ^rcaourp of (Bi^a^d^an fe^rico
Thus scorning all the cares
That fate or fortune brings,
He makes the heaven his book,
His wisdom heavenly things;
Good thoughts his only fritnids,
His wealth a well-spent age,
The earth his sober inn
And quiet pilgrimage.
TJiomns Campion.
Campion and Rossikr's Song Book.
XHI
WHEN THOU MUST HOME
Wl I EN thou must home to shades of under-
ground,
And there arrived, a new admired guest,
The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round,
White lope, blithe Helen, and the rest,
To hear the stories of thy finished love
From that smooth tongue whose music hell can
move,
Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights,
Of masques and revels which sweet youth did
make,
Of tourneys and great challenges of Knights,
And all these triumphs for thy beauty's sake;
[76]
il Zvcaeviv^ of &xyaUt^an $L^nce
When thou hast told these honours done to
thee,
Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me!
Tho7nas Campion.
Campion and Rossifer's Song Book.
H-
XIV
HAPPY HE
APPY he
.Who to sweet home retired,
Shuns glory so admired;
And to himself lives free!
Whilst he who strives, with pride, to climb
the skies,
Falls down, with foul disgrace, before he rise.
Let who will
The Active Life commend:
And all his travails bend
Earth with his fame to fill!
Such fame, so forced, at last dies with his death ;
Which life maintained, by others' idle breath.
My delights,
To dearest home confined.
Shall there make good my mind
Not awed with fortune's spites :
High trees heaven blasts, winds shake and
honours fell,
When lowly plants long time in safety dwell.
[77]
JR ^rcaourg of (Bft^a6ct6an fejnco
All I can,
My worldly strife shall be,
They, one day, say of me,
"He died a good old man!"
On his sad soul a heavy burden lies.
Who, known to all, unknown to himself, dies.
Robert Jones' Song Book.
H
XV
HOW MANY NEW YEARS
OW many n(;w years have grown old
Since first your servant old was new;
How many long hours have I told
Since first my love was vowed to you;
And yet, alas, slie does not know
Whether her servant love or no.
How many walls as white as snow,
And windows clear as any glass,
Have I conjured to tell you so,
Which faithfully performed was;
And yet you'll swear you do not know
Whether your servant love or no.
How often hath my pale, lean face.
With true characters of my love,
Petitioned to you for grace,
Whom neither sighs nor tears can move;
O cruel, yet you do not know
Whether your servant love or no.
[78]
And wanting oft a better token,
I have been fain to send my heart,
Which now your cold disdain hath broken,
Nor can you heal 't by any art:
O look upon 't and you shall know
Whether your servant love or no.
A nan,
Robert Jozies' Song Book.
XVI
THE SEA HATH MANY THOUSAND SANDS
THE sea hath many thousand sands,
The sun hath motes as many;
The sky is full of stars, and Love
As full of woes as any:
Believe me, that do know the elf,
And make no trial by thyself!
It is in truth a pretty toy
For babes to play withal: —
But O ! the honeys of our youth
Are oft our age's gall !
Self-proof in time will make thee know
He was a prophet told thee so;
[79]
jR ^rcacurp of (Bfi^a6c(^an fe^ricc
A prophet that, Cassandra-like,
Tells truth without belief;
For headstrong Youth will run his race,
Altliough his goal be grief: —
Love's Martyr, when his heat is past,
Proves Care's Confessor at the last.
Anon.
Robert Jones' Song Book.
XVTI
MOTHER, I WILL HAVE A HUSBAND
MOTHER, I will have a husband,
And I will have him out of hand!
^lother, I will sure have one
In spite of her that will have none.
John-a-Dun should have had me long ere
this:
He said I had good lips to kiss.
Mother, I will sure have one
In spite of her that will have none.
For I have heard tis trim when folks do love;
By good Sir John I swear now I will prove.
For, mother, I will sure have one
In spite of her that will have none.
To the town, therefore, will I gad
To get me a husband, good or bad.
[80]
il ZuaBwt^ of (ggj^aBefgan &gnc0
Mother, I will sure have one
In spite of her that will have none.
From Thomas Vatttor's
Songs of divers Airs and Natures ^ 1619.
XVIII
SWEET SUFFOLK OWL
SWEET Suffolk owl, so trimly dight
With feathers, like a lady bright,
Thou sing'st alone, sitting by night,
Te whit, te whoo!
Thy note that forth so freely rolls,
With shrill command the mouse controls
And sings a dirge for dying souls,
Te whit, te whoo !
Thomas Vautor
From Vautor s Song BooJz.
XIX
AY ME, CAN EVERY RUMOUR
AY me, can every rumour
Thus start my lady's humour?
Name ye some galante to her,
Why straight forsooth I woo her.
[81]
cS vTreaeurj of <Efi^a6c(3an ferric©
Then burst[sj she fortli in passion
"You men love but for fashion;"
Yet sure I am that no man
Ever so loved woman.
Then alas, love, be wary,
P'or women be contrary.
From John J I Y/d^ 'c s
English Madrigals.
XX
A WOOING SONG OF A YEOMAN OF KENT'S
SON
I HAVE house and land in Kent,
And if you'll love me, love me now;
Twopence-halfpenny is my rent,
I cannot come every day to woo.
Chorus.
Twopence-halfpenny is his rent,
And he cannot come every day to woo.
Ich am my vather's eldest zonne.
My mother eke doth love me well.
For ich can bravely clout my shoone,
And ich full well can ring a bell.
Chorus.
For he can bravely clout his shoone,
And he full well can ring a bell.
[82]
il ^uaeuv^ of &x'^aM^an Egvice
My vather he gave me a hog,
My mouther she gave me a zow;
I have a God-vather dwels thereby,
And he on me bestowed a plow.
Chorus.
He has a God-vather dwells thereby,
And he on him bestowed a plough.
One time I gave thee a paper of pins.
Another time a tawdry-lace;
And if thou wilt not grant me love,
In truth ich die bevore thy vace.
Chorus.
And if thou wilt not grant his love.
In truth he'll die bevore thy face.
Ich have been twice our Whitson-lord,
Ich have had ladies many vair,
And eke thou hast my heart in hold
And in my mind zeemes passing rare.
Chorus.
And eke thou hadst his heart in hold
And in his mind zeemes passing rare.
Ich will put on my best white slops
And ich will wear my yellow hose,
And on my head a good grey hat,
And in't ich stick a lovely rose.
[83] F2
jR ^rcciDurg of (Efi^aficfBctn Egrtce
Chorus.
And on his head a good grey hat,
And in't he'll stick a lovely rose.
Wherefore cease off, make no delay
And if you'll love me, love me now
Or else ich zeek zome oderwhere.
For I cannot come every day to woo.
Chorus.
Or else he'll zeek zome oden^'here,
For he cannot come every day to woo.
Fro7n Thovias Ravenscroft' s
Melismata.
XXI
THE MARRIAGE OF THE FROG AND THE
MOUSE
IT was the frog in the well,
Humbledum, Humbledum,
And the merry mouse in the mill,
Tweedle, tweedle, twino.
The frog would a-wooing ride
Sword and buckler by his side.
When he upon his high horse set,
His boots they shone as black as jet.
[84]
When he came to the merry mill-pin, —
"Lady Mouse, been you within?"
Then came out the dusty mouse:
"I am Lady of this house:
Hast thou any mind of me?"
"I have e'en great mind of thee."
"Who shall this marriage maker"
"Our Lord which is the rat."
"What shall we have to our supper?"
"Three beans in a pound of butter."
When supper they were at,
The frog, the mouse, and e'en the rat;
Then came in Gib our cat,
And catched the mouse e'en by the back.
Then did they separate,
And the frog leaped on the floor so flat.
Then came in Dick our drake,
And drew the frog e'en to the lake.
The rat run up the wall,
Humbledum, humbledum;
A goodly company, the Devil go with all!
Tweedle, tweedle, twino.
From Thomas Ravenscroft' s
Melismata.
[85]
cH ^rcaourg of (Eft^afictljan Enrico
XXTI
THE BELLMAN'S SONG
MAIDS to bed and cover coal;
Let the mouse out of her hole;
Crickets in the chimney sing
Whilst the little bell doth ring:
If fast asleep, who can tell
When the clapper hits the bell?
Frovi Thomas Ravenscroft' s
Melisviata.
XXIII
THE FAIRIES' DANCE
DARE you haunt our hallowed green?
None but fairies here are seen.
Down and sleep,
Wake and weep.
Pinch him black, and pinch him blue.
That seeks to steal a lover true!
When you come to hear us sing,
Or to tread our fairy ring,
Pinch him black, and pinch him blue!
O thus our nails shall handle you!
From Thomas Ravenscro/i's
Brief Discourse, etc.
[86]
il ^reaeutrg of (Bfi^a6e^§an B^grice
XXIV
IN MIDST OF WOODS OR PLEASANT GROVE
IN midst of woods or pleasant grove,
Where all sweet birds do sing,
Methought I heard so rare a sound
Which made the heavens to ring.
The charm was good, the noise full sweet.
Each bird did play his part;
And I admired to hear the same,
Joy sprang into my heart.
The blackbird made the sweetest sound.
Whose tunes did far excel ;
Full pleasantly, and most profound
Was all things placed well.
Thy pretty tunes, mine own sweet bird,
Done with so good a grace,
Extols thy name, prefers the same
Abroad in every place.
Thy music grave, bedecked well
With sundry points of skill,
Bewrays thy knowledge excellent
Ingrafted in thy will.
[87]
oE ^rcaourg of (Eft^aBct^an £gnc0
i\Iy tongue shall speak, my pen shall write
In praise of thee to tell;
The sweetest bird that ever was,
In friendly sort farewell.
Fro77i John Mnndy's
Song and Psalms.
XXV
SHALL A FROWN OR ANGRY EYE
SHALL a frown or angry eye,
Shall a word unfitly placed.
Shall a shadow make me flie
As if I were with tigers chased?
Love must not be so disgraced.
Shall I woo her in despight?
Shall I turn her from her flying?
Shall I tempt her with delight?
Shall I laugh at her denying?
No: beware of lovers' crying.
Shall I then with patient mind,
Still attend her wayward pleasure?
Time will make her prove more kind,
Let her coyness then take leisure:
She is worthy such a treasure.
From William Corkine's A irs
[88]
<S €xc(XB\iX2 of (Bfi^afiet^an £gric6
XXVI
SISTER, AWAKE!
SISTER, awake! close not your eyes!
The day her 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.
Anoji.
Thomas Bateson's Eng. Madrigals.
[89]
oR txcaanx^ of &x%aUt^(Xn &gric6
XXVII
THE LOVE OF CHANGE HATH CHANGED THE
WORLD
THE love of change hath changed the
world throughout,
And what is counted good but that is stranger
New things wax old, old new, all turns about,
And all things change except the love of change.
Yet find I not that love of change in me,
But as I am so will I always be.
From Richard Carltofi's Madrigals.
XXVIII
MY TRUE-LOVE HATH MY HEART
MY true-love hath my heart, and I have his.
By just exchange one for another given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain uriven ;
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.
His heart in me keeps him and me in one,
Aly heart in him his thoughts and senses guide,
He loves my heart, for once it was his own,
I cherish his because in me it bides:
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.
Sir Philip Sidney.
[90]
Jl €xtamv^ of (Bfi^d6et^<tn &grtC6
XXIX
FAIN WOULD I CHANGE THAT NOTE
FAIN would I change that note
To which fond Love hath charm'd me
Long, long to sing by rote,
Fancying that that harmed me :
Yet when this thought doth come
" Love is the perfect sum
Of all delight,"
I have no other choice
Either for pen or voice
To sing or write.
Love ! they wrong thee much
That say thy sweet is bitter,
When thy rich fruit is such
As nothing can be sweeter.
Fair house of joy and bliss,
Where truest pleasure is,
I do adore thee :
1 know thee what thou art,
I serve thee with my heart.
And fall before thee !
Afio/i.
[91]
oR txcaBuv^ of (Bfi^aBet^an fegrice
XXX
LET NOT THY BLACKNESS MOVE THEE TO
DESPAIR
LET not thy blackness move thee to
despair;
Black women are beloved of men that's fair.
What if thy hair her flaxen brightness lack !
Thy face is comely though thy brow be black.
Fro?n Christ Church MS.
XXXI
YET IF HIS MAJESTY, OUR SOVEREIGN
LORD
YET if His Majesty, our sovereign lord.
Should of his own accord
Friendly himself invite,
And say, " I'll be your guest to-morrow night,"
How should we stir ourselves, call and com-
mand
All hands to work! "Let no man idle stand.
" Set me fine Spanish tables in the hall.
See they be fitted all;
Let there be room to eat,
And order taken that there want no meat.
vSee every sconce and candlestick made bright,
That without tapers they may give a light.
[92]
il Zttaeut^ of Bti-^aUt^^an ^grtce
" Look to the presence: are the carpets spread,
The dazie o'er the head,
The cushions on the chairs.
And all the candles lighted on the stairs?
Perfume the chambers, and in any case
Let each man give attendance in his place!"
Thus, if the king were coming, would we do.
And 'twere good reason too ;
For 'tis a duteous thing
To show all honour to an earthly king,
And after all our travail and our cost,
So he be pleased, to think no labour lost.
But at the coming of the King of Heaven
All's set at six and seven:
We wallow in our sin,
Christ cannot find a chamber in the inn.
We entertain Him always like a stranger.
And, as at first, still lodge Him in a manger.
Christ Church MS.
[93]
oB Crcaourj of (Efi-^aBct^an fegvico
XXXII
WE MUST NOT PART
WE must not part as others do,
With sighs and tears, as we were two;
Though with these outward forms we part,
We keep each other in our heart.
What search hath found a being, where
I am not, if that thou be there?
True love hath wings, and can as soon
Survey the world as sun and moon,
And everywhere our triumphs keep
O'er absence which makes others weep:
By which alone a power is given
To live on earth, as they in heaven.
Fro7n Egerton MS.
[94]
il ^naeurg of ^t^aht^an &gvtC0
PART III
^onga ftront i^t
(Romance (WxittxB
JOHN LYLY
CUPID AND MY CAMPASPE
CUPID and my Campaspe played
At cards for kisses — Cupid paid.
He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows,
His mother's doves and team of sparrows:
Loses them too; then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on 's cheek (but none knows how);
With these the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin —
All these did my Campaspe win.
At last he set her both his eyes. —
She won, and Cupid blind did rise,
O Love, has she done this to thee?
What shall, alas! become of me?
From A kxander and Campaspe.
[95]
il ^rcaourj of (Efi^aBcfBan ferric©
TI
SPRING'S WELCOME
WHAT bird so sings, yet so does wail?
O, 'tis the ravished nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu! she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
Poor robin redbreast tunes his note:
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing
Cuckoo! to welcome in the Spring!
Cuckoo! to welcome in the Spring!
From A Icxandcr and Campaspc.
[96]
il 'ZuaBut^ of &i'^aht^(xn B^gnce
III
SONG TO APOLLO
SING to Apollo, god of day,
Whose golden beams with morning play,
And make her eyes so brightly shine,
Aurora's face is called divine;
Sing to Phoebus and that throne
Of diamonds which he sits upon.
lo, pseans let us sing
To Physic's and to Poesy's King!
Crown all his altars with bright fire.
Laurels bind about his lyre,
A Daphnean coronet for his head,
The Muses dance about his bed;
When on his ravishing lute he plays.
Strew his temple round with bays.
lo, paeans let us sing
To the glittering Delian King!
From Midas.
[97]
jB, ^rcaour^ of (Eft^a6c(6an £jrtC6
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY
IV
MY SHEEP ARE THOUGHTS
DORUS TO PAMELA
MY sheep are thoughts, which I both guide
and serve;
Their pasture is fair hills of fruitless love,
On barren sweets ihey feed, and feeding starve,
I wail their lot, but will not other prove;
My sheephook is wan hope, which all upholds;
My weeds Desire, cutout in endless folds;
"What wool my sheep shall bear, whilst thus
they live.
In you it is, you must the judgment give.
I^y-ofn Arcadia.
[98]
51 ZvcacMt^ of &x'^<xU(^<xn B^j?rtC0
GEORGE PEELE
V
CUPID'S CURSE
She
FAIR and fair, and twice so" fair,
As fair as any may be;
The fairest shepherd on our green,
A love for any lady.
He
Fair and fair, and twice so fair,
As fair as any may be;
Thy love is fair for thee alone,
And for no other lady.
She
My love is fair, my love is gay,
As fresh as bin 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 !
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.
From The Arraignment of Paris.
[99] G2
Jti Zycciouy^ of (Brt:;a6c(6an Ejrico
VI
HIS GOLDEN LOCKS
HIS <::folden locks time hath to silver turned ;
O time too swift, O swiftness never
ceasing-!
His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever
spurned,
But spurned in vain; youth waneth by
increasing:
Beaut)^ strength, youth, are flowers but fading
seen;
Duty, faith, love, are roots and ever green.
His helmet now shall make a hive for bees,
And, lovers' sonnets turned to holy psalms,
A man-at-arms must now serve on his knees.
And feed on prayers, which are age his alms :
But though from court to cottage he depart.
His saint is sure of his unspotted heart.
And when he saddest sits in homely cell.
He'll teach his swains this carol for a song,
"Blessed be the hearts that wish my sovereign
well,
Cursed be the souls that think her any wrong!"
Goddess, allow this aged man his right.
To be your beadsman now that was yourknight.
From PolyhymfJt'a.
[100]
il ^reaeurg of &i'^ah(^an Egrice
A
ROBERT GREENE
VII
AH, WERE SHE PITIFUL
H, were she pitiful as she is fair,
Or but as mild as she is seeming so,
Then were my hopes greater than my despair,
Then all the world were heaven, nothing
woe.
Ah, were her heart relenting as her hand.
That seems to melt even with the mildest
touch.
Then knew I where to seat me in a land.
Under wide heavens, but yet [I know] not
such.
So as she shows, she seems the budding rose,
Yet sweeter far than is an earthly flower.
Sovereign of beauty, like the spray she grows.
Compassed she is with thorns and cankered
flower.
Yet were she willing to be plucked and worn,
She would be gathered, though she grew on
thorn.
[lOl]
oR dcaourj of (Bfi>aBct6an B^^rico
Ah, when she siui^s, all music else be still,
For none must be compared to her note;
Ne'er breathed such glee from Philomela's
bill,
Nor from the morning-singer's swelling
throat.
Ah, wlien she riseth from her blissful bed,
She comforts all the world, as doth the sun,
And at her sight the night foul vapour's fled;
When she is set, the gladsome day is done.
O glorious sun, imagine me the west.
Shine in my arms, and set thou in my breast.
From Pandosto.
[102]
«Jl ^reaeurg of <B0i;a6et§an B^gnco
VIII
SEPHESTIA'S SONG
WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my
knee;
When thou art old there's grief enough for
thee.
Mother's wag, pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
When thy father first did see
Such a boy by him and me.
He was glad, I was woe.
Fortune changed made him so.
When he left his pretty boy
Last his sorrow, first his joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
When thou art old there's grief enough for
thee.
Streaming tears that never stint,
Like pearl drops from a flint.
Fell by course from his eyes,
That one another's place supplies;
Thus he grieved in every part.
Tears of blood fell from his heart,
When he left his pretty boy.
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
[103]
oR ^rcaourj of (BH^a^ct^an Bl^vkg
\Voc^p not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
When thou art old there's grief enough for
thee.
The wanton smiled, father wept,
Mother cried, baby leapt;
More he crowed, more we cried,
Nature could not sorrow hide:
He must go, he must kiss
Child and mother, baby bless,
For he left his pretty boy.
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee.
When thou art old there's grief enough for
thee.
From Alenaphon.
A
IX
THE SHEPHERD'S WIFE'S SONG
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 r
[104]
il ^rea0utg of &i'^(xU(^an Entice
His flocks are folded, he comes home at night,
As merry as a king in his delight;
And merrier too :
For kings bethink then what the state require.
While 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 ?
He kisseth iirst, 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 sup,
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?
Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound
As doth a 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 :
Ah then, ah then.
It country loves such sweet desires do gain.
What lady would not love a shepherd swain ?
Thus with his wife he spends the year, as blithe
As doth the king at every tide or sithe:
And blither too :
[105]
cH ^rcaouvj of (Srii;aBctBan Ejrice
For king's have wars and Ijroils to take in lumd,
When shepherds laugh and love upon the land :
Ah then, ah then,
If country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain r
From The Alourning Garment.
X
SWEET ARE THE THOUGHTS
SWEET are the thoughts that savour of con-
tent;
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 that 'grees with country music best;
The sweet consort of mirth and music's fare ;
Obscured life sets down a type of bliss :
A mind content both crown and kingdom is.
From Farewell to Folly.
[io6]
M ^reaeufg of (Bfi^aBet^an B^gtice
THOMAS NASH
XI
SPRING, THE SWEET SPRING
SPRING, the sweet Spring, is the year's
pleasant king;
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in
a ring.
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo !
The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all
day.
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay.
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our
feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit.
In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
Spring! the sweet Spring!
From Summer's Last Will
and Testament.
[107]
cH Crcaourg of (Eri;aBc(t)an ^jrico
XII
WINTER, PLAGUE AND PESTILENCE
AUTU.MX haih all the summer's fruitful
treasure;
Gone is our sport, fled in our Croydon's plea-
sure!
Short days, sharp days, long nights come on
apace:
Ah, who shall hide us from the winter's face r
Cold doth increase, the sickness will not cease,
And here we lie, God knows, with little ease.
From winter, plague and pestilence, good
Lord, deliver us !
London doth mourn, Lambeth is quite forlorn!
Trades cry, woe worth that ever they were
born!
The want of term is town and city's harm;
Close chambers we do want to keep us warm.
Long banished must we live from our friends;
This low-built house will bring us to our ends.
From winter, plague and pestilence, good
Lord, deliver us!
From Summer's Last Will
and TeslamenL
[io8]
<S Zvucxxt^ of <B%a6ef^an fe^rica
W
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
XIII
WINTER
HEN icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail.
When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul.
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit;
To-who, a merry note.
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw.
And birds sit brooding in the snow.
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl.
Then nightly sings the staring owl.
Tu-whit;
To-who, a merry note.
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
From Love's Labour' s Lost.
[109]
H vTrcaourg of (El't^aBctljan Enrico
XIV
WHO IS SILVIA?
WHO is Silviar wliat is she,
That all our swains commend herr
Holy, fair and wise is she;
The heavens such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.
Is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness:
Love doth to her eyes repair.
To help him of his blindness.
And, being help'd, inhabits there.
Then to Silvia let us sing.
That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling;
To her let us garlands bring.
Fro7n The Tivo Gentlemen of Verona.
[no]
il Zvca&uv^ of Sti'^aUt^an B^grice
XV
YE SPOTTED SNAKES
YE spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen :
Newts, and blind- worms, do no wrong;
Come not near our fairy queen.
Philomel, with melody
Sing in our sweet lullaby;
Lulla, luUa, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby;
Never harm, nor spell nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So, good-night, with lullaby.
Weaving spiders, come not here;
Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence!
Beetles black, approach not near;
Worm nor snail, do no offence.
Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby;
Never harm, nor spell nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So, good-night, with lullaby.
Fro?n A Midsummer Night's Dream.
[Ill]
cH vTrcciourj of (Bfi^a6cf6an ferric©
XVI
TELL ME WHERE IS FANCY BRED
THLL me where is fancy bred,
Or in the lieart or in the head?
How begot, liow nourished?
Reply, reply.
It is engender'd 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.
From The Merchant of Venice.
XVII
SIGH NO MORE, LADIES
SIGH 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.
[112]
cH ^rea^utg of <Eft^a6et§an ^grice
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.
From Ahu'Ji Ado Abotit Nothing.
XVIII
UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE
UNDER the greenwood tree.
Who loves to lie with me.
And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
From As You Like It.
[113] H
jR vTrCviourp of (Bft^nBcfBan Egvico
B'
XIX
BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND
I LOW, blow, thou winter wiml,
rhou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green
holly:
IMost friendship is feigning, most loving m^re
folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot :
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember'd not.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green
holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere
folly;
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
From As Yon Like It.
[114]
il ^rcaeurg of &i'^<xUt^ixn B^j^rice
XX
IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS
IT was a lover and his lass,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o'er the green corn-field 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 sing, 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 nonino,
How that a life was but a flower
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
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 spring time, the only pretty ring time.
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring.
Fro7n As You Like It.
[115] H2
J[i Zrccionv^ of (Eft:;a6ct^an Egrtco
XXI
O MISTRESS MINE
O mistress mine! where are you roaming?
O ! stay and hear ; your true love's coming.
That can sing botli high and low.
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.
AVhat is lover 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
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.
From Twelfth-Night.
XXII
COME AWAY, COME AWAY, DEATH
COME away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath ;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O ! prepare it :
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
[ii6]
il ^reaeurg of &i^aUt^<xn B^grica
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown ;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be
thrown :
A thousand thousand sighs to save.
Lay me, O ! where
Sad true lover ne'er find my grave,
To weep there.
From Twelfth-Night.
XXIII
TAKE, OH TAKE THOSE LIPS AWAY
TAKE, oh take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn ;
And those eyes, the break of day.
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again,
bring again.
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain,
seal'd in vain.
From Measure for Measure.
[117]
«H <trcaourg of (Bfi'^aBcflKin ferric©
XXIV
HOW SHOULD I YOUR TRUE LOVE KNOW
O W should I your true love know,
From another one ?
By his cockle hat and stafif,
And his sandal shoon.
H
He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
White his shroud as the mountain snow
Larded with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go,
With true-love showers.
From Hamld.
XXV
HARK, HARK! THE LARK
HARK! hark! the lark at heaven's gate
sings.
And Phoebus 'gins arise.
His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies;
[ii8]
Jl ^reaeurg of ^^i'^^aUt^an B^grice
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise :
Arise, arise!
J^rom Cymheluie.
XXVI
FEAR NO MORE THE HEAT 0' THE SUN
FEAR no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must.
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak ;
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash.
Nor th' all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must.
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
From Cymbeline.
[119]
otl Crcviourg of (Sl'i^aBctl^an ^grice
XXVII
COME UNTO THESE YELLOW SANDS
COMi^ unto tliese yellow sands,
And then take hands;
Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd
The wild waves whist:
Foot it featly here and there,
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.
Hark! hark!
Bow-bow.
The watch-dogs bark:
Bow-wow.
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow!
From The Tempest.
XXVIII
FULL FATHOM FIVE
FULL fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made:
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
[120]
dR ^reaeurg of Sfi^aSefljan Entice
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something- rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell :
Hark! now I hear them, — ding-dong, bell.
From The Tempest.
XXIX
WHERE THE BEE SUCKS
WHERE the bee sucks, there suck I:
In a cowslip's bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now.
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
From The Tempest.
XXX
WHEN DAFFODILS BEGIN TO PEER
WHEN daffodils begin to peer,
With heigh! the doxy over the dale,
Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year;
For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.
[121]
il 2^rca0urg of (Bri^afictBan Egrtco
The white sheet bleacliing on the hedge,
With heigh ! the sweet birds, O ! how they sing,
Doth set my pugging tooth on edge;
I""or a quart of ale is a dish for a king.
The lark, that tirra-lirra chants,
With heigh ! with heigh ! the thrush and the jay.
Are summer songs for me and my aunts,
While we lie tumbling in the hay.
Fro7n The JVtn/cr's Tale.
XXXI
JOG ON, JOG ON
JOG on, jog on, the footpath way,
And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.
From The Winter s Tale.
[122]
il Zvcamt^ of ^H^aUt^an Egrice
XXXII
LAWN AS WHITE AS DRIVEN SNOW
LAWN as white as driven snow;
Cyprus black as e'er was crow;
Gloves as sweet as damask roses;
Masks for faces and for noses ;
Bugle-bracelet, necklace amber,
Perfume for a lady's chamber:
Golden quoifs and stomachers,
For my lads to give their dears;
Pins and poking-sticks of steel.
What maids lack from head to heel:
Come buy of me, come ; come buy, come buy ;
Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry:
Come buy.
From Tlie Winter s Tale.
XXXIII
WILL YOU BUY ANY TAPE
WILL you buy any tape.
Or lace for your cape,
My dainty duck, my dear-ar
Any silk, any thread,
Any toys for your head,
[123]
oE vTrcaourg of 6fi^aBc(l)an £gric6
Of the new'st and fin'st, fin'st wear-ar
Come to the pedlar;
Money's a meddler,
That doth utter all men's ware-a.
From The WtnUr's Talc.
XXXIV
ORPHEUS WITH HIS LUTE
ORPHEUS with his lute made trees,
And the mountain tops that freeze,
Bow themselves, when he did sing:
To his musick, plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.
Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea.
Hung their heads, and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art,
Killing care and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
From King Henry VIII.
[124]
Jl tuaBxif^ of (^fi^aBet^dn £grtc0
THOMAS LODGE.
XXXV
ROSALYNDE'S MADRIGAL
LOVE in my bosom, like a bee,
Doth suck his sweet:
Now with his wings he plays with me,
Now with his feet.
Within mine eyes he makes his nest.
His bed amidst my tender breast;
My kisses are his daily feast.
And yet he robs me of my rest:
Ah! wanton, will ye?
And if I sleep, then percheth he
With pretty flight.
And makes his pillow of my knee
The livelong night.
Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;
He music plays if so I sing;
He lends me every lovely thing.
Yet cruel he my heart doth sting:
Whist, wanton, still ye?
Else I with roses every day
Will whip you hence,
And bind you, when you long to play.
For your offence ;
[125]
oR ffrcacur^ of (Bfi;a6ct^an Bl^xxcb
I'll shut my eyes to keep you in;
I'll make you fast it for your sin;
I'll count your power not worth a pin:
Alas! what hereby shall I win.
If he gainsay me?
What if I beat the wanton boy
With many a rod r
He will repay me with annoy,
Because a god.
Then sit thou safely on my knee.
And let thy bower my bosom be ;
Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee
O Cupid ! So thou pity me,
Spare not, but play thee.
Frojii Rosalynde.
A
XXXVI
A TURTLE SAT UPON A LEAFLESS TREE
TURTLE sat upon a leafless tree.
Mourning her absent pheer
With sad and sorry cheer:
About her wondering stood
The citizens of wood,
And whilst her plumes she rents,
And for her love laments,
l^he stately trees complain them,
The birds with sorrow pain them;
[126]
M Zxcixmt^ of (Bfi^aSet^dn Bl^xxcb
Each one that doth her view,
Her pain and sorrows rue;
But were the sorrows known
That me hath overthrown,
Oh how would Phoebe sigh, if she did look on
mer
The lovesick Polypheme that could not see,
Who on the barren shore,
His fortunes doth deplore,
And melteth all in moan
For Galatea gone;
And witli his piteous cries,
Afflicts both earth and skies,
And to his woe betook.
Doth break both pipe and hook:
For whom complains the morn.
For whom the Sea Nymphs mourn;
Alas, his pain is naught;
For were my woe but thought.
Oh, how would Phoebe sigh, if she did look on
mer
Beyond compare my pain:
Yet glad am I
If gentle Phoebe deign
To see her Montan die.
From Rosalyndc.
[127]
jR f rcaourg of (Bfi^aBet^an ^grice
BEN JONSON
XXXVII
ECHO'S LAMENT OF NARCISSUS
SLOW, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my
salt tears :
Yet slower, yet; O faintly, gentle springs:
List to the heavy part the music bears,
Woe weeps out her division when she sings.
Droop herbs and flowers,
Fall grief in showers,
Our beauties are not ours;
O, I could still,
Like melting snow upon some craggy hill.
Drop, drop, drop, drop.
Since nature's pride is now a withered daffodil.
From Cynthia's Revels.
XXXVIII
STILL TO BE NEAT
STILL 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.
[128]
«S tudBuv^ of (Bfi3;a6et?an Ej^rica
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.
From The Silent Woman.
THOMAS DEKKER
XXXIX
ART THOU POOR?
ART thou poor, yet hast thou golden
slumbers r
O sweet Content!
Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed?
O Punishment!
Dost laugh to see how fools are vexed
To add to golden numbers golden numbers?
O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace.
Honest labour bears a lovely face.
Then hey noney, noney; hey noney, noney.
Canst drink the waters of the crisped spring?
O sweet Content!
Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine
own tears?
O Punishment!
[129] I
il ffrcaeurj of (Bft^aBct^an Egrice
Then he that patiently want's burden bears
No burden bears, but is a king, a king.
O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace,
Honest labour bears a lovely face.
Then hey noney, noney; hey noney, noney.
Frovi Patient GriscL
XL
LULLABY
GOLDEN slumbers kiss your eyes,
Smiles awake you when you rise.
Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.
Rock them, rock them, lullaby.
Care is heavy, therefore sleep you.
You are care, and care must keep you.
Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.
Rock them, rock them, lullaby.
Frovi Patient Grtsel.
[130]
<2l Creasurg of ^fx'^(Xhi^(Xn Bl^xxcb
XLI
HAYMAKERS, RAKERS
HAYMAKERS, rakers, reapers and
mowers.
Wait on your Summer- Queen!
Dress up with musk-rose her eglantine
bowers.
Daffodils strew the green !
Sing, dance and play,
'Tis holiday!
The sun does bravely shine
On our ears of corn.
Rich as a pearl
Comes every girl.
This is mine, this is mine, this is mine.
Let us die ere away they be borne.
Bow to our Sun, to our Queen, and that
fair one
Come to behold our sports;
Each bonny lass here is counted a rare one.
As those in princes' courts.
These and we
With country glee,
Will teach the woods to resound,
And the hills with echoes hollow.
[131] 12
jB, itrcaeurj of (Bf^aBct^an fe^rico
Skipping lambs
Their bleating dams
'Mongst kids shall trip it round;
For joy thus our wenches we follow.
Wind jolly huntsmen, your neat bugles
shrilly,
Hounds make a lusty cry;
Spring up, you falconers, partridges freely,
Then let your brave hawks fly!
Horses amain,
Over ridge, over plain,
The dogs have the stag in chase:
'Tis a sport to content a king.
So ho! ho! through the skies
How the proud bird flies.
And sousing, kills with a grace!
Now the deer falls; hark! how they ring.
I^rom The Sim's Darling.
[132]
il Crectfiurg of (^fi^Afiet^dn ^grice
P
THOMAS HEYWOOD
XLII
PACK, CLOUDS, AWAY
ACK, clouds, away, and welcome day,
With night we banish sorrow;
Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft
To give my Love good-morrow !
Wings from the wind to please her mind
Notes from the lark I'll borrow;
Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale sing,
To give my Love good-morrow;
To give my Love good-morrow
Notes from them both I'll borrow.
Wake from thy nest, Robin-red-breast,
Sing birds in every furrow;
And from each hill, let music shrill
Give my fair Love good-morrow!
Blackbird and thrush in every bush,
Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow!
You pretty elves, amongst yourselves
Sing my fair Love good-morrow;
To give my Love good-morrow
Sing, birds, in every furrow.
From The Rape of Lucrece.
[133]
il ixcacur^ of (Bft^aBct^an Ejrtce
XLIII
YE LITTLE BIRDS
YE 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!"
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!"
[134]
cH ZxeaBux^ of 6fi^a6et?an ^grtcs
O 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, 'tis her lover true
That sendeth love to you, to you;
And when you hear her kind reply,
Return with pleasant warblings.
I^rom The Fair Maid of the Exchange.
w
JOHN FLETCHER
XLIV
WEEP NO MORE
EEP no more, nor sigh, nor groan;
Sorrow calls no time that's gone;
Violets plucked the sweetest rain
Makes not fresh nor grow again ;
Trim thy locks, look cheerfully;
Fate's hid ends eyes cannot see;
Joys as winged dreams fly fast.
Why should sadness longer last?
Grief is but a wound to woe ;
Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no mo.
Fnm The Queen of Corinth.
[135]
il Srcaourg of (Bfi^aBct^an Bl^xxcb
XLV
HENCE, ALL YOU VAIN DELIGHTS
HENCE, all you vain delights,
As short as are the nights
Wherein you spend your folly!
There's nought in this life sweet,
If man were wise to see't,
But only melancholy;
O sweetest melancholy !
Welcome, folded arms and fixed eyes,
A sigh that piercing mortifies,
A look that's fastened to the ground,
A tongue chained up without a sound!
Fountain heads and pathless groves.
Places which pale passion loves !
Moonlight walks, when all the fowls
Are warmly housed save bats and owls!
A midnight bell, a parting groan,
These are the sounds we feed upon;
Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley :
Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.
From The Nice Valour.
[136]
dR f redBurg of Sfi^aBet^an ^gricB
XLVI
CARE-CHARMING SLEEP
CARE-CHARMING Sleep, thou easer of
all woes,
Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose
On this afflicted prince ; fall like a cloud
In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud
Or painful to his slumbers; — easy, sweet.
And as a purling stream, thou son of night.
Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain
Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain ;
Into this prince gently, oh gently slide,
And kiss him into slumbers like a bride !
From Valentinian.
XLVII
SONG TO BACCHUS
GOD Lyseus, ever young
Ever honoured, ever sung;
Stained with blood of lusty grapes,
In a thousand lusty shapes.
Dance upon the mazer's brim,
In the crimson liquor swim ;
[137]
il Zrcamx2 of 6ft^a6ct^an fegricB
From thy plenteous hand divine
Let a river run with wine;
God of youth, let this day here
Enter neither care nor fear.
From Valoitinian.
SHAKESPEARE AND FLETCHER
XLVHI
ROSES, THEIR SHARP SPINES BEING GONE
OSES, 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, first-born child of Ver,
Merry spring-time's harbinger,
With her bells dim;
Oxlips in their cradles growing,
Marigolds on death-beds blowing,
Larks'-heels trim.
All, dear Nature's children sweet.
Lie 'fore bride and bridegroom's feet,
Blessing their sense!
Not an angel of the air,
Bird melodious or bird fair.
Be absent hence !
[138]
3, Zxtamx^ of i^fi^afiet^an &gric6
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 !
Fro?n The Tivo Noble Kinsmett.
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER
XLIX
LAY A GARLAND ON MY HEARSE
LAY a garland on my hearse
Of the dismal yew;
Maidens willow branches bear;
Say, I died true.
My love was false, but I was firm
From my hour of birth.
Upon my buried body lie
Lightly, gentle earth!
Fro?n The Maid's Tragedy.
[139]
art Crcaourg of <B^\7,c\^ct^an fegrice
JOHN FORD
GLORIES, PLEASURES
GLORIES, pleasures, pomps, delights
and ease,
Can but please
Outward senses, when the mind
Is or untroubled, or by peace refined.
Crowns may flourish and decay,
Beauties shine, but fade away.
Youth may revel, yet it must
Lie down in a bed of dust.
Earthly honours flow and waste.
Time alone doth change and last.
Sorrows mingled with contents prepare
Rest for care ;
Love only reigns in death; though art
Can find no comfort for a Broken Heart.
From The Brokeii Heart.
[140]
«2l Jreasutg of (Sfi^a6ef?an &^ric0
LI
FLY HENCE, SHADOWS
FLY hence, shadows, that do keep
Watchful sorrows, charmed in sleep!
Though the eyes be overtaken,
Yet the heart doth ever waken
Thoughts chained up in busy snares
Of continual woes and cares:
Love and griefs are so exprest,
As they rather sigh than rest.
Fly hence, shadows, that do keep
Watchful sorrows, charmed in sleep.
Fro}7i The Lover^s Melancholy.
JAMES SHIRLEY
LII
VICTORIOUS MEN OF EARTH
VICTORIOUS men of earth, no more
Proclaim how wide your empires are;
Though you bind in every shore,
And your triumphs reach as far
As night or day.
Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey.
And mingle with forgotten ashes when
Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.
[141]
oE Jrcaeurg of <Bft^a6et?an £jnc6
Devouring Famine, Plague, and War,
Each alDle to undo mankind,
Death's servile emissaries are;
Nor to these alone confined
He hath at will
More quaint and subtle ways to kill ;
A smile or kiss, as he will use the art,
Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart.
From Cupid and Death.
LIII
NO ARMOUR AGAINST FATE
THE glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things.
There is no armour against Fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Sceptre and crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Some men with swords may reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill;
But their strong nerves at last must yield;
They tame but one another still:
Early or late,
They stoop to fate.
And must give up their murmuring breath,
When they, pale captives, creep to death.
[142]
M €xt(XBux^ of ^^{'^(xht^an >tC6
The garlands wither on your brow,
Then boast no more your mighty deeds ;
Upon Death's purple altar now,
See where the victor-victim bleeds:
Your heads must come
To the cold tomb;
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.
J^rom The Contention of
Aj'ax and Ulysses.
[143]
il ^rectBuvg of (Bfi^aBef ^an ^grice
(jftokB
I
I. This poem was probably addressed to Anne
Boleyn, for whom Sir Thomas Wyatt is said to
have long cherished a secret affection.
JV/iafi, when.
3. Do^/i keep, remains, has his station.
Smirking, smiling-.
4. This song was first given as "The Plough-
man's Song" in the "Honourable Entertainment
Given to the Queen's Majesty in a Progress at
Elvetham in Hampshire, by the Right Honourable
the Earl of Hertford in 1591." In 1600 it was pub-
lished in "England's Helicon" vmder the title of
"Phillida and Corydon."
5. Mr Edmund Gosse says of this lyric " His
(Greene's) metres are very various, and are usually
in direct analogy with the theme in hand. . . .
Menaphon laments the precarious and volatile
nature of love in lines that rise and fall with the
rush of a swallow's flight."
6. "Colin Clout" was the name under which
Spenser published his first poem ' ' The Shepheard's
Calendar," and was intended, by its rusticity, to
be in keeping with the charadier of the work.
"Astrophel" was the name adopted by Sidney,
first in connexion with his "Astrophel and Stella"
Sonnet Series, and afterwards in various other
lyrics.
[145] K
jB, f rc(\Dur^ of (Sft:;a6ct^an fe^rtce
J3(Yn rudely t/ij^/i/, arc written in homely fashion.
7, This lyric first appeared in Lodge's *' Phyllis
Honcrcd with Pastoral Sonnets " in 1593. Seven
years later it was reprinted in "England's Heli-
con," and there, by some mistake, the initials
"S.E.D." were subscribed to it. For this reason
the poem has frequently been attributed to Sir
Edward Dyer.
Deads onCy causes death to a person; "dead"
was often used as a verb in Elizabethan English.
Nill, will not.
9. Palinode, a song or poem in which the writer
contradiiSls or recants a former one. (Gr. palin,
back; ode, a song.)
ID. Renyingy disowning, renouncing. (Fr. renier
from L. re, back; nego, to deny.)
Forlorn me, forsaken me.
Deal, part.
Curtail dog. "Originally the dog of an unquali-
fied person, which, by the forest laws, must have
its tail cut short, partly as a mark, and partly
from a notion that the tail of a dog is necessary to
him in running. In later usage 'curtail dog' means
either a common dog not meant for sport or a dog
that missed his game." (Nares.)
Ignoto. "Ignoto" has been identified with Sir
Walter Raleigh. A. H. Bullen, however, has this
note: "There is good ground for attributing this
poem (which is signed 'Ignoto' in 'England's
Helicon,' 1600) to Richard Barnfield, for the poem
that follows, which undoubtedly belongs to Barn-
field, is headed 'Another of the same Shepherd's.' "
II. King Pandion, etc. The mythical story con-
necSled with the nightingale is a very favourite one
with the Elizabethan poets. Pandion, King of
[146]
JL €xt(XBut^ of (Bfi^aBet^dn Egrtcs
Attica, had two daughters, Philomela and Procne:
Procne married Tereus, son of the King- of
the Thracians, whom Pandion had called in to
assist him against his enemies. After a time Tereus
concealed Procne in the country, proclaimed that
she was dead, and married Philomela, whose
tongue he cut out, in order that if she discovered
his secret she might not be able to make it known.
The two sisters however managed to communicate
with each other by means of threads woven into a
mantle. This was discovered by Tereus, and Procne
and Philomela, fleeing from his wrath, besought
thegods to turn them into birds. Philomelabecamea
nightingale, Procne a swallow, and Tereus a hawk.
12. Teinpe groves. Tempe was a lovely valley
between Mt, Olympus and Mt. Ossa, famous among
the ancient Greeks as being the favourite haunt of
Apollo.
Nisus' golden hair, etc., Nisus, King of Megara,
was besieged by Minos, King of Crete. Scylla,
daughter of Nisus, who had fallen in love with
Minos, pulled out the golden hair which grew on
the top of her father's head, and on which his
strength depended. Nisus died and Minos took the
city. He was, however, so horrified by the condudl
of Scylla that he ordered her to be drowned in the
Saronic gulf.
Contend, contention.
14. Diana of Montmaior, "Diana" was a Spanish
pastoral romance, written by Montemayor, about
the middle of the sixteenth century.
16. See note on No. 11.
Wroken, past participle of the verb *' to wreak."
17. Dr Grosart thinks that this dirge was pro-
bably written on the occasion of the marriage of
[147] K2
il (trcacur^ of <Bft:;a6ctPan fe^rico
Penelope Devereux (the " Stella " to whom Sid-
ney's sonnets are addressed) to Lord Rich. Tenny-
son's " Ring out, wild bells," in " In Mcmoriam,"
is g-enerally supposed to have been suggested by
this poem of Sidney's.
Peacock's folly, v.anity.
Trentals, an office for the dead consisting of
thirty masses rehearsed for thirty days succes-
sively.
i8. Four stanzas of this poem were originally
printed in "The Passionate Pilgrim," 1599. In
1600 the six stanzas, as here given, were published
in "England's Helicon." In 1653 Izaak Walton
reprinted it with an additional stanza in the second
edition of " The Compleat Angler." The poem has
always enjoyed great popularity.
ig. This reply to Marlowe's poem was printed
in " England's Helicon " with the signature "Ig-
noto, " and has consequently, like other poems
bearing that signature, been attributed to Raleigh.
In this case the attribution is probably correal.
Dr Hannah includes the poem in his "The poems
of Sir Walter Raleigh, colleiSted and authenti-
cated." One authority for believing the verses to
be those of Raleigh is Izaak W^alton, who says, in
his " Compleat Angler": "As I left this place, and
entered into the next field, a second pleasure en-
tertained me. 'Twas a handsome milkmaid, that
had not yet attained so much age and wisdom as to
load her mind with any fears of many things that
will never be, as too many men too often do; but
she cast away all care, and sung like a nightin-
gale; her voice was good, and the ditty fitted for
it; it was that smooth song which was made by
Kit Marlowe, now at least fifty years ago; and the
[148]
otl ixcaBux^ of (Bfi;a6et^dn £gvtC6
milkmaid's mother sung an answer to it, which
was made by Sir Walter Raleigh in his younger
days."
20. Gent, elegant, neat.
B/ess me, defend me; probably from the verb
"bletsian," denoting the a6l of consecration, the
signing with the sign of the cross as a defence
from evil.
Glose, flatter, lie.
Buttoned cap. See note on No. 6, Part III.
Sail, coarse cloth.
22. In " Davison's Poetical Rhapsody," the fol-
lowing note is added to this poem of Campion's:
"This hymn was sung by Amphitrite Thamesis
and other Sea-Nymphs, in ' Gray's Inn Masque'
at the Court, 1594."
Tj'ttous, sons of Neptune.
Syrens, sea-nymphs.
Evipery, empire.
II
7. Little lawn, etc. ''The Pawn was a corridor
serving as a bazaar in the Royal Exchange (Gres-
ham's)." (A. H. Bullen.)
Astraea, daughter of Zeus, who lived on earth
during the golden age, and brought blessings to
men: when she departed, and became one of the
stars, perfe6l happiness left the earth.
8. Nappy, frothy.
Tutties, nosegays.
Silly, simple.
12. This poem has been attributed, though with-
out any real evidence, to Lord Bacon.
13. White lope. Mr Bullen thinks that this epi-
thet was suggested by a passage in Propertius,
[M9]
H Srcaeurg of (£fi:;a6ct^an fegrice
describing' spirits in the lower world — Vobiscutn
est Iopi\ vobiscuin caudida Tyro.
14. Honours. To the word "honours" in Inie 5,
stanza 3, Bullen has this footnote, — Qy "ham-
mers"?
1 6. Cassandra-likc. Cassandra was the daughter of
Priam, King of Troy, on whom Apollo bestowed the
gift of prophecy, but added to his gift the draw-
back that no one should believe her prophecies.
20. Paper of pins, a favourite love-g"ift in the
days when pins were newly introduced and were
looked upon as luxuries.
Tawdry lace, a rustic necklace: Cf. "Come, you
promised me a tawdry-lace, and a pair of sweet
gloves" — Winter's Tale.
JVAitsun-lord, the master of the Whitsuntide
revels.
Slops, wide breeches.
28. The version here given is from Puttenham's
"Arte of English Poesie," published 1589, where
it is definitely attributed to Sir Philip Sidney. An-
other version, with additions and alterations, was
given in the "Arcadia" 1590, but this is distin(5lly
inferior to the former.
30. Black ivotnen. In the days of Queen Elizabeth
fair beauties were in fashon at the Court in defer-
ence to the complexion of the Queen: to be dark
was considered a disgrace.
31. Dazie, the canopy or hangings over the high
table or over any chair of State.
Ill
1. Crystal, fairness.
2. Prick-song. Music of which the notes are writ-
ten down, as opposed to extempore music; there-
[150]
il ^reaeurg of 6fi^a6et^an Egrice
fore usually richer and more varied, and so applied
to the song- of the nighting-ale.
Now at heaven's gate. Compare Shakespeare's
Song "Hark, hark the lark," from "Cymbeline."
3. This song- was sung at the close of "Midas,"
when that comedy was first presented before the
Queen on Twelfth Night, January 6, 1590, by the
"Children of Paules."
/(?, daughter of the king of Argos. In Greek le-
gend she was identified with the moon.
Physics and to Poesy's King. Apollo was the god
of healing as well as of music and poetry.
Daphnean. Daphne was beloved by Apollo, but
fleeing from him prayed the gods to change her into
a laurel tree.
6. Thissongistaken from "Polyhymnia, Describ-
ing the Honourable Triumph at Tylt, before her
Maiestie on the 17 of November past (1590) being
the first day of the three and thirtieth year of her
Highnesse raigne." Mr W. Briathwaite, in his
"Book of Elizabethan Verse" quotes the following
account, condensed by Oliphant from Sir W.
Segar's "Honors Military and Civil, 1602." "Cer-
tain yearly Triumphs were solemnized in memory
of the applause of her Majesty's subje6ls at the
day of her most happy accession to the Crown of
England, which triumphs were first begun and
occasioned by the right virtuous and honourable
Sir Henry Lea, master of herhighness' armory: who
of his great zeal and desire to eternize the glory of
her Majesty's Court in the beginning of her reign,
voluntarily vowed — unless infirmity, age or other
accident did impeach him — during his life to pre-
sent himself at the tilt, armed, the day aforesaid,
yearly; there to perform in honour of her Sacred
[151]
oE iJrcaeurg of (Bfi^a6ct^an &gric6
Majesty tlie promise lie formerly made. The worthy
knii;^ht, however, feeliii<^ himself at leni^th over-
taken with old a^'c, and beins;- desirous of resig-ning-
his championship, did on the 17th of Novembcri590,
present himself toi^ether with the Karl of Cum-
berland, unto her Majesty under her gallery window
in the tilt yard at Westminster, where at that time
her Majesty did sit. . . . Her Majesty, beholdinj^
these armed Kniijhts coming toward her, did sud-
denly hear a music so sweet and secret, as every one
thereat did greatly marvel. The music aforesaid was
accompanied with these verses, pronounced and
sung by Mr Hale, her Majesty's servant, a gentle-
man in that art excellent, and for his voice both
commendable and admirable. After the ceremonies
Sir Henry Lea disarmed himself, and kneeling
upon his knees presented the Earl of Cumberland,
humbly beseeching that she would receive him for
her Knight to continue the yearly exercise afore-
said. Her Majesty having accepted the offer, this
aged Knight armed the earl, and mounted him
upon his horse. That being done, he put upon his
own person a side-coat of black velvet, and covered
his head in lieu of an helmet with a button-cap of
the country fashion."
The song is quoted by Thackeray in "The New-
comes' (Ch. Ixxv) with reference to Colonel New-
come becoming a pensioner at Greyfriars.
Beadsman, one who offers up prayers. (A.S.
"biddan," to pray.)
9. Sithe, time.
13. Keel, cool by ladling to prevent boiling over
(Malone).
Saiv, saying, discourse.
Crabs, crab apples.
[152]
il Zxtdrnx^ of 6fi3;a6et^an ^gric0
22. Cypress, crape, a fabric said to have been
orig-inally introduced from Cyprus.
24. Cockle-hat, a pilg-rim's hat, so called from
the practice followed by palmers of wearing a
cockle-shell in their hats.
25. Mary-buds, marigolds.
27. Featly, nimbly.
Wliist, silent.
Burden, the tune sung as an accompaniment to
a dance when there were no instruments.
30. Doxy, girl.
Pugging, thieving.
Aunts, companions.
31. Hent, grasp.
32. Cyprus. See note on 22.
Quoifs, caps.
Stomac/iers, ornamental fronts for the bodices of
gowns.
Poking sticks, sticks made of bone, wood, or
steel for setting the pleats of ruffs.
36. Turtle, turtle-dove.
Pheer, mate, companion.
Polypheme, Polyphemus the giant, who had one
eye in the middle of his forehead. He fed his flocks
on Mt. ^tna, and lived in a cave near by. He loved
the nymph, Galatea, who reje6led his love. Ulysses
was driven by storm to the giant's cave, and suc-
ceeded in putting out his one eye.
37. Echo' s Lament of Narcissus. The nymph Echo
fell in love with a beautiful youth. Narcissus, who
was, however, inaccessible to love. As a punish-
ment for his hard-heartedness Nemesis caused him
to fall in love with his own image, refleiSled in a
stream. He pined away with love, and died, his
[153]
cH ffrcaourg of B^i-^ahi^c^n £gric6
body after death bcintr changed into the flower
which now bears his name.
38. S/i/l, always.
41. Soi/s/f/o-^ pouncing".
42. Shirc, starling.
45. It has been suggested that Milton owed the
idea of his "II Penscroso" to this poem.
47. Lyccus, Bacchus, the god of wine.
48. "The opening lines of the second stanza
have generally been printed thus:
Primrose, first-born child of Ver,
Merry springtime's harbinger,
With her bells dim . . .
and many have W'ondered how Shakespeare or Flet-
cher came to write of the bells of a primrose. ... I
have always suspected, however; that there should
be a semicolon after 'Ver ' and that ' merry spring-
time's harbinger, with her bells dim,' referred to a
totally different flower — the snowdrop to wit. And
I now learn from Dr. Grosart, who has carefully
examined the 1634 and early editions, that the text
adlually gives a semicolon. The snowdrop may
very well come after the primrose in the song,
which altogether ignores the process of the sea-
sons. "("Adventures in Criticism." Quiller-Couch.)
It has also been suggested that "her bells" may
be a misprint or old spelling for "harebells."
[154]
il 2^rea0urg of (^fi^aBet^an &grtc5
3nbe;c of J^ite^ Btne^
PAGE
A feigned friend by proof I find .... 63
Ah, were she pitiful as she is fair .... loi
Ah, what is love 104
Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers 1 29
As it fell upon a day 41
As withereth the primrose by the river . 38
A turtle sat upon a leafless tree .... 126
Autumn hath all the summer's fruitful trea-
sure 108
Awake, awake! thou heavy sprite .... 69
Ay me, can every rumour ...... 81
Blow, blow, thou winter wind 114
Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes 137
Come away, come away, death . . . . n6
Come live with me, and be my love ... 54
Come unto these yellow sands 120
Cupid and my Campaspe played .... 95
Dare you haunt our hallowed green? ... 86
Every dame affedls good fame 6g
Fain would I change that note 91
Fair and fair, and twice so fair 99
Faustina hath the fairer face 62
Fear no more the heat o' the sun .... 119
[155]
oR Jrcaeurg of ^i^c^^ct^Cin Bl^xkb
I'^low not so fast, ye fountains .
Fly liencc, shadows, that do keep
Foi'i^ct not yet the tried intent .
Full fathom five thv father lies .
Give place, ye lovers, here before .
Glories, pleasures, pomps, delights and
God Lya;us, ever young
Golden slumbers kiss your eyes
Gorbo, as thou cam'st this way
Happy he who to sweet home retired.
Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate s
Haymakers, rakers, reapers and mowers
Hence, all you vain delights.
His golden locks time hath to silver turr
How many new years have grown old
How should I your true love know
If all the world and love were young
I have house and land in Kent .
In midst of woods or pleasant grove
In the merry month of May .
I saw my lady weep ....
It was a lover and his lass .
It was the fros: in the well .
Jack and Joan, they think no ill
Jog on, jog on, the footpath way
Lawn as white as driven snow .
Lay a garland on my hearse.
Let not thy blackness move thee to despair
Look how the pale Queen of the silent n
Love in my bosom, like a bee .
[156]
ed
ht
M txeaBut^ of ^U%<xhi^<xn ^^xxcb
Maids to bed and cover coal 86
Mother, I will have a husband 80
My flocks feed not, my ewes breed not . . 39
My mind to me a king-dom is 64
My Phyllis hath the morningf sun .... 36
My sheep are thoughts, which I both guide
and serve 98
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his 90
Near to a bank with roses set about ... 49
Never love unless you can 72
Now winter nights enlarg-e 73
O mistress mine, where are you roaming" . 116
Of Neptune's empire let us sing .... 60
Orpheus with his lute made trees .... 124
Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day . . 133
Ring out your bells, let mourning shews be
spread 52
Roses, their sharp spines being gone. . . 138
Shall a frown or angry eye 88
Shepherds that wont on pipes of oaten reed 35
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more . . . 112
Sing to Apollo, god of day 97
Sister, awake! close not your eyes. ... 89
Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my
salt tears 128
Some say Love 33
Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's plea-
sant king 107
Still to be neat, still to be drest 128
[157]
il ixcaenx^ of (Bf^aBcf^an Bl^xxcr
Sweet are the thoug-hts tliat savour of con-
tent io6
Sweet Suffolk owl, so trimly dight . ... 8i
Take, oh take those lips away 117
Tell me, thou g^entle shepherd swain ... 45
Tell me where is fancy bred 112
The g'lories of our blood and state . . . . 142
The love of change hath changed the world
throughout 90
The man of life upright 75
The nightingale as soon as April bringeth . 50
The sea hath many thousand sands ... 79
There is a garden in her face 74
Through a fair forest as I went 56
Tune on my pipe the praises of my love . . 43
Under the greenwood tree 113
Victorious men of earth, no more .... 141
Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan . . . 135
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee 103
Weep you no more, sad fountains .... 67
We must not part as others do 94
Were I as base as is the lowly plain ... 37
What bird so sings, yet so does wail ... 96
What changes here, O hair 47
When daffodils begin to peer . • . . . 121
When icicles hang by the wall 109
When thou must home to shades of under-
ground 7^
When to her lute Corinna sings .... 61
Where the bee sucks, there suck I . . . . 121
[158]
M txtdmt^ of (Bft^aBet^dn ^gricB
Who is Silvia? what is she no
Will you buy any tape 123
Ye little birds that sit and sing 134
Ye spotted snakes with double tongfue . . in
Yet if His Majesty, our sovereign lord . . 92
[159]
Letchivorlh: At the Ardcn Press
c
207
THE LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
Santa Barbara
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE
STAMPED BELOW.
3 1205 01904 2967
UC SOUTHFR-; REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
AA 001372 718 5
•«-/
.-■M/ir,
"•W