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diff --git a/26398-8.txt b/26398-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..931e5b3 --- /dev/null +++ b/26398-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4502 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tudor and Stuart Love Songs, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tudor and Stuart Love Songs + +Author: Various + +Editor: J. Potter Briscoe + +Release Date: August 23, 2008 [EBook #26398] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TUDOR AND STUART LOVE SONGS *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + +--------------------------------------------------------+ + | TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES | + | | + | Small discrepancies in punctuation between the Table | + | of Contents and poem titles have been retained. | + | | + | "Cherry Ripe" and "Julia" are on pages 91 and 90 | + | respectively, rather than on pages 90 and 91 as listed | + | in the Table of Contents. | + | | + | John Dowland's poem is titled "True till death" in the | + | Table of Contents, but is titled "Love's constancy" | + | on page 95. | + +--------------------------------------------------------+ + +_[Illustration]_ + +[Illustration: TUDOR +AND +STUART +LOVE +SONGS + +COLLECTED BY +J. POTTER BRISCOE] + + + + +TUDOR AND STUART LOVE SONGS + +SELECTED AND EDITED BY + +J. POTTER BRISCOE, F.R.S.L. +Editor of "The Bibelots" + +[Illustration] + +E. P. DUTTON AND CO. +31 W. 23^RD STREET +NEW YORK + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +The spirit of reform which was developed during the early part of the +sixteenth century brought about a desire on the part of young men of +means to travel on the continent of Europe. This was for the purpose of +making themselves acquainted with the politics, social life, literature, +art, science, and commerce of the various nations of the same, +especially of France, Spain, and Italy. These young Englishmen on their +return introduced into the society in which they mixed not only the +politenesses of these countries, but the wit of Italy, and the character +of the poetry which was then in vogue in Southern Europe. Among these +travellers during the reign of Henry the Eighth were Sir Thomas Wyatt +and the Earl of Surrey. These courtiers possessed the poetical faculty, +and therefore paid special attention to literary form. As a result they +introduced the Sonnet of the Petrarchan type into England. The amorous +verse of the inhabitants of these sunny climes took hold of the young +Englishmen. Many men of rank and education, who did not regard +themselves as of the world of letters, penned pleasant verse, much of it +being of an amatory character based upon that of the Italians. During +the reign of "Good Queen Bess" England was full of song. Of the writers +of love verses William Watson occupied a very high, probably the +highest, position during the time of Elizabeth. A glance at the Table of +Contents of this volume will show that some of the best poets who were +born between the years 1503 and 1679 have handed down to us poetical +contributions of this character. + +Of the Elizabethan amatory verses only a small portion has been +transmitted to us. That which possessed least literary merit did not +long survive, and, no doubt, some of considerable merit has been lost +too. The best has been preserved. Selections from these, arranged in +chronological order, appear in this anthology. Richard Tottel printed +his "Miscellany" in 1557. It is to this work, and to Richard Edwards' +"Paradise of Dainty Devices," issued nineteen years later, that much of +the best poetical literature of the sixteenth century has come down to +us. The first-named passed through eight editions during thirty years: +the last issue being dated 1587. + +From the amatory verses produced by seventy-one writers during the reign +of Henry the Eighth and down to those of the early Georges one hundred +and thirteen appear in this love anthology. The limitation of space +prevents further biographical particulars being given than the years of +birth and death, which will be found in the Table of Contents. As +writers do not always agree in this respect, "The Dictionary of National +Biography" has been taken as the authority. + +Whatever labour has been bestowed on the preparation of this anthology +has not been in bulking it out to its present dimensions, but rather in +keeping it within the prescribed limits; and, at the same time, +furnishing these best examples of the love verses of the numerous +authors who have been requisitioned for the purpose of this volume of +"Tudor and Stuart Love Songs." + +J. P. B. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + Page + +Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503-1542). + The lost heart 1 + The lover's appeal 2 + + +Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1517?-1547). + A sonnet--"Love that liveth," etc. 3 + A vow to love faithfully 4 + + +Anon., _circa_ 1530. + My sweet sweeting 5 + + +George Turberville (1540?-1610?). + The lover to his lady 6 + Master George: his sonnet 7 + Turberville's answer and distich 8 + + +Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford (1550-1604). + The shepherd's commendation of his nymph 9 + A renunciation 11 + + +Barnaby Googe (?) (1535?-1594). + The complaint of Harpalus 12 + + +George Gascoigne (1525-1577). + A strange passion of a lover 14 + + +Sir Edward Dyer ( -1607). + To Phyllis, the fair shepherdess 16 + + +George Peele (1558?-1596-1597?). + The enamoured shepherd 17 + + +Sir Walter Raleigh (1552?-1618). + His love admits no rival 18 + The shepherd's description of love 20 + The shepherdess' reply 22 + + +Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke (1554-1628). + Love for love 24 + + +John Lyly (1554?-1606). + Cupid and Campaspe: Apelles' song 26 + + +Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586). + A ditty--"My true love," etc. 27 + Love is dead 28 + He that loves 30 + + +Thomas Lodge (1558?-1625). + Love's wantonness 31 + Rosaline 32 + + +Thomas Watson (1557?-1592?). + The May Queen 34 + + +Nicholas Breton (1545?-1626?). + Phillida and Corydon 35 + + +Thomas Campion (_circa_ 1619). + Shall I come, sweet love, to thee? 37 + Cherry-ripe 38 + + +Robert Greene (1560?-1592). + Fair Samela 39 + Kinds of love 41 + Love and beauty 42 + + +Robert Southwell (1561?-1595). + Love's servile lot 43 + + +Sir John Harrington (1561-1612). + The heart of stone 45 + + +Henry Constable (1561-1613). + A shepherd's song to his love 46 + + +Samuel Daniel (1562-1619). + Love now, for roses fade 47 + Early love 48 + Love is a sickness 49 + + +Christopher Marlowe (1564-1593). + The passionate shepherd to his love 50 + + +Joshua Sylvester (1563-1618). + Love's omnipresence 52 + + +Michael Drayton (1563-1631). + A parting, or Love's last chance 53 + + +William Shakespeare (1564-1616). + Who is Silvia? 54 + Sigh no more, ladies 55 + A morning song for Imogen 56 + + +Anon. (_circa_ 1564). + The unfaithful shepherdess 57 + + +Anon. + True loveliness 59 + A woman's reason 61 + Love will find out the way 62 + Phillida flouts me 64 + In praise of two 66 + + +Sir Robert Aytoun (1570-1638). + To his forsaken mistress 67 + On women's inconstancy 69 + + +Thomas Middleton (1570?-1627). + The three states of women 71 + My love and I must part 72 + + +Ben Jonson (1573?-1637). + Perfect beauty 73 + To Celia 74 + + +Dr. John Donne (1573-1631). + A woman's constancy 75 + Sweetest love 76 + + +William Alexander, Earl of Stirling (1567?-1640). + To Aurora 77 + + +William Drummond (1585-1649). + Phillis 78 + + +Beaumont and Fletcher (1584-1616; 1579-1625). + Take those lips away 79 + + +Francis Beaumont (1584-1616). + Tell me what is love 80 + Pining for love 81 + Fie on love 82 + + +John Wootton (_circa_ 1600). + Damoetas' praise of his Daphnis 83 + + +George Wither (1588-1667). + Shall I, wasting in despair 85 + + +Thomas Carew (1598?-1639?). + To one who, when I praised my mistress' + beauty, said I was blind 87 + He that loves a rosy cheek 88 + + +Nathaniel Field (1587- ). + Matin song 89 + + +Robert Herrick (1591-1674). + Cherry ripe 90 + Julia 91 + To the virgins 92 + To Electra 93 + + +Bp. Henry King (1592-1669). + Dry those eyes 94 + + +John Dowland (ed.) (1563?-1626?). + True till death 95 + + +Thomas Weelkes (ed.) (1597- ?). + Farewell, my joy 96 + + +Sir William Davenant (1605-1606-1668). + The lark now leaves 97 + + +Edmund Waller (1606-1687). + Go, lovely rose! 98 + + +Thomas Randolph (1605-1635). + His mistress 99 + + +Henry Vaughan (1622-1695). + Chloris 100 + + +Anon. (_circa_ 1610). + Love me little, love me long 101 + + +Capt. Tobias Hume (musical composer). + Fain would I change that note 102 + + +William Habington. + To roses in Castara's breast 103 + + +John Danyel (1604?-1625?). + Thou pretty bird 104 + + +Anon. (_temp._ James I.). + Once I lov'd a maiden fair 105 + + +Sir John Suckling (1609-1642). + I pr'ythee send me back my heart 106 + Orsame's song--"Why so pale," etc. 107 + + +Thomas Ford, composer (1607?-1648). + Since first I saw your face 108 + + +Abraham Cowley (1618-1667). + The given heart 110 + + +Sir Edward Sherburne (1618-1702). + Ice and fire 111 + + +Richard Lovelace (1618-1658). + Amarantha 112 + To Althea, from prison 113 + + +Alexander Brome (1620-1666). + A mock song 114 + + +Thomas Stanley (1625-1678). + Speaking and kissing 115 + + +Sir George Etherege (1635?-1691). + Ladies' conquering eyes 116 + + +Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset (1638-1706). + Dorinda 117 + + +Robert Gould ( -1709?). + Celia and Sylvia 118 + + +Sir Charles Sedley (1639?-1701). + True love 119 + + +John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester (1647-1680). + Too late! 120 + My mistress' heart 121 + Constancy 122 + + +Peter Anthony Motteux (1660-1718). + Man and woman 123 + + +Matthew Prior (1664-1721). + Accept my heart 124 + + +Sir John Vanbrugh (1664-1726). + An angelic woman 125 + I smile at love 126 + + +George Granville (1667-1735). + Adieu l'amour 127 + + +William Congreve (1670-1729). + Sabina wakes 128 + Inconstancy 129 + + +Ambrose Philips (1675?-1709). + Love and hate 130 + + +John Oldmixon (1673-1742). + I lately vowed 131 + + +Dr. Isaac Watts (1674-1748). + Few happy matches 132 + + +John Hughes (1677-1720). + Dorinda's conquest 133 + + +George Farquhar (1678-1707). + Lovers in disguise 134 + + +Thomas Parnell (1679-1718). + When thy beauty appears 135 + + + + +LOVE VERSES + OF THE TUDOR & + STUART PERIODS. + + + + +THE LOST HEART. + + + Help me to seek! For I lost it there; + And, if that ye have found it, ye that be here, + And seek to convey it secretly, + Handle it soft and treat it tenderly, + Or else it will 'plain, and then appair. + But pray restore it mannerly, + Since that I do ask it thus honestly; + For to lose it, it sitteth me near; + Help me to seek! + + Alas, and is there no remedy? + But have I thus lost it wilfully? + I-wis, it was a thing all too dear + To be bestowed, and wist not where! + It was mine heart! I pray you heartily + Help me to seek! + +Sir Thomas Wyatt. + + + + +THE LOVER'S APPEAL. + + + And wilt thou leave me thus? + Say nay! say nay! for shame, + To save thee from the blame + Of all my grief and grame. + And wilt thou leave me thus? + Say nay! say nay! + + And wilt thou leave me thus, + That hath loved thee so long + In wealth and woe among: + And is thy heart so strong + As for to leave me thus? + Say nay! say nay! + + And wilt thou leave me thus, + That hath given thee my heart + Never for to depart + Neither for pain nor smart: + And wilt thou leave me thus? + Say nay! say nay! + + And wilt thou leave me thus, + And have no more pity + Of him that loveth thee? + Alas! thy cruelty! + And wilt thou leave me thus? + Say nay! say nay! + +Sir Thomas Wyatt. + + + + +A SONNET. + + + Love, that liveth and reigneth in my thought, + That built his seat within my captive breast, + Clad in the arms wherein with me he fought, + Oft in my face he doth his banner rest: + She that me taught to love and suffer pain, + My doubtful hope and eke my hot desire + With shamefaced cloak to shadow and restrain, + Her smiling grace converteth straight to ire: + And coward Love then to the heart apace + Taketh his flight, whereas he lurks and plains + His purpose lost, and dare not show his face. + For my lord's guilt, thus faultless, bide I pains: + Yet from my lord shall not my foot remove; + Sweet is his death that takes his end by love! + +Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. + + + + +A VOW TO LOVE FAITHFULLY HOWSOEVER HE BE REWARDED. + + + Set me whereas the sun doth parch the green, + Or where his beams do not dissolve the ice, + In temperate heat where he is felt and seen, + In presence pressed of people mad or wise, + Set me in high, or yet in low degree, + In longest night, or in the shortest day, + In clearest sky, or where clouds thickest be, + In lusty youth, or when my hairs are gray, + Set me in heaven, in earth, or else in hell, + In hill or dale, or in the foaming flood, + Thrall, or at large, alive whereso I dwell, + Sick, or in health, in evil fame or good: + Hers will I be, and only with this thought + Content myself, although my chance be nought. + +Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. + + + + +MY SWEET SWEETING. + + + Ah, my sweet sweeting! + My little pretty sweeting, + My sweeting will I love wherever I go: + She is so proper and pure, + Full steadfast, stable, and demure, + There is none such, you may be sure, + As my sweet sweeting. + + In all this world, as thinketh me, + Is none so pleasant to my eye, + That I am glad so oft to see + As my sweet sweeting. + + When I behold my sweeting sweet, + Her face, her hands, her mignon feet, + They seem to me there is none so sweet + As my sweet sweeting. + +Anon., circa 1530. + + + + +THE LOVER TO HIS LADY. + + + My girl, thou gazest much + Upon the golden skies: + Would _I_ were Heaven! I would behold + Thee then with all mine eyes! + +George Turberville. + + + + +MASTER GEORGE: HIS SONNET OF THE PAINS OF LOVE. + + + Two lines shall tell the grief + That I by love sustain: + I burn, I flame, I faint, I freeze, + Of Hell I feel the pain. + +George Turberville. + + + + +TURBERVILLE'S ANSWER AND DISTICH TO THE SAME. + + + Two lines shall teach you how + To purchase love anew: + Let reason rule, where Love did reign, + And idle thoughts eschew. + +George Turberville. + + + + +THE SHEPHERD'S COMMENDATION OF HIS NYMPH. + + + What shepherd can express + The favour of her face + To whom, in this distress, + I do appeal for grace? + A thousand Cupids fly + About her gentle eye; + + From which each throws a dart, + That kindleth soft sweet fire + Within my sighing heart, + Possessed by desire: + No sweeter life I try + Than in her love to die! + + The lily in the field, + That glories in his white, + For pureness now must yield + And render up his right; + Heaven pictured in her face + Doth promise joy and grace. + + Fair Cynthia's silver light, + That beats on running streams, + Compares not with her white, + Whose hairs are all sunbeams: + So bright my Nymph doth shine + As day unto my eyne! + + With this, there is a red, + Exceeds the damask-rose, + Which in her cheeks is spread, + Where every favour grows; + In sky there is no star, + But she surmounts it far. + + When Phoebus from the bed + Of Thetis doth arise, + The morning, blushing red, + In fair carnation-wise, + He shows in my Nymph's face, + As Queen of every grace. + + This pleasant lily-white, + This taint of roseate red, + This Cynthia's silver light, + This sweet fair Dea spread, + These sunbeams in mine eye, + These beauties, make me die! + +Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford. + + + + +A RENUNCIATION. + + + If women could be fair, and yet not fond, + Or that their love were firm, not fickle still, + I would not marvel that they make men bond + By service long to purchase their good will; + But when I see how frail those creatures are, + I muse that men forget themselves so far. + + To mark the choice they make, and how they change, + How oft from Phoebus they do flee to Pan; + Unsettled still, like haggards wild they range, + These gentle birds that fly from man to man; + Who would not scorn and shake them from the fist, + And let them fly, fair fools, which way they list? + + Yet for disport we fawn and flatter both, + To pass the time when nothing else can please, + And train them to our lure with subtle oath, + Till, weary of their wiles, ourselves we ease; + And then we say when we their fancy try, + To play with fools, O what a fool was I! + +Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford. + + + + +THE COMPLAINT OF HARPALUS. + + + Phylida was a fair maid + And fresh as any flower, + Whom Harpalus the herdman prayed + To be his paramour. + Harpalus and eke Corin + Were herdmen, both yfere; + And Phylida could twist and spin, + And thereto sing full clear. + But Phylida was all too coy + For Harpalus to win; + For Corin was her only joy, + Who forced her not a pin. + How often would she flowers twine, + How often garlands make, + Of cowslips and of columbine, + And all for Corin's sake! + But Corin, he had hawks to lure, + And forcèd more the field; + Of lovers' law he took no cure, + For once he was beguiled. + Harpalus prevailèd nought; + His labour all was lost; + For he was farthest from her thoughts, + And yet he loved her most. + Therefore waxed he both pale and lean, + And dry as clot of clay; + His flesh it was consumèd clean, + His colour gone away.... + His beasts he kept upon the hill, + And he sate in the dale; + And thus, with sighs and sorrows shrill, + He gan to tell his tale. + "O Harpalus,"--thus would he say-- + "Unhappiest under sun, + The cause of thine unhappy day + By love was first begun!... + O Cupid, grant this my request, + And do not stop thine ears, + That she may feel within her breast + The pains of my despairs! + Of Corin that is careless, + That she may crave her fee, + As I have done in great distress, + That loved her faithfully!" ... + +Barnaby Googe (?). + + + + +A STRANGE PASSION OF A LOVER. + + + Amid my bale I bathe in bliss, + I swim in Heaven, I sink in hell: + I find amends for every miss, + And yet my moan no tongue can tell. + I live and love (what would you more?) + As never lover lived before. + + I laugh sometimes with little lust, + So jest I oft and feel no joy; + Mine eye is builded all on trust, + And yet mistrust breeds mine annoy. + I live and lack, I lack and have; + I have and miss the thing I crave. + + * * * * * + + Then like the lark that passed the night + In heavy sleep with cares oppressed; + Yet when she spies the pleasant light, + She sends sweet notes from out her breast; + So sing I now because I think + How joys approach when sorrows shrink. + + And as fair Philomene again + Can watch and sing when others sleep; + And taketh pleasure in her pain, + To wray the woe that makes her weep; + So sing I now for to bewray + The loathsome life I lead alway. + + The which to thee, dear wench, I write, + Thou know'st my mirth but not my moan; + I pray God grant thee deep delight, + To live in joys when I am gone. + I cannot live; it will not be: + I die to think to part from thee. + +George Gascoigne. + + + + +TO PHYLLIS, THE FAIR SHEPHERDESS. + + + My Phyllis hath the morning sun + At first to look upon 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 peace 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 dreads one; + And if in life her love she'll not agree me, + Pray her before I die, she will come see me. + +Sir Edward Dyer. + + + + +THE ENAMOURED SHEPHERD. + + + O gentle Love, ungentle for thy deed! + Thou mak'st my heart + A bloody mark, + With piercing shot to bleed. + + Shoot soft, sweet Love! for fear thou shoot amiss, + For fear too keen + Thy arrows been, + And hit the heart where my Belovèd is. + + Too fair that fortune were, nor never I + Shall be so blest, + Among the rest, + That Love shall seize on her by sympathy. + + Then since with Love my prayers bear no boot, + This doth remain + To cease my pain: + I take the wound, and die at Venus' foot. + +George Peele. + + + + +HIS LOVE ADMITS NO RIVAL. + + + Shall I like a hermit dwell, + On a rock, or in a cell, + Calling home the smallest part + That is missing of my heart, + To bestow it where I may + Meet a rival every day? + If she undervalue me, + What care I how fair she be? + + Were her tresses angel gold, + If a stranger may be bold, + Unrebuked, unafraid, + To convert them to a braid, + And with little more ado + Work them into bracelets too? + If the mine be grown so free, + What care I how rich it be? + + Were her hand as rich a prize + As her hairs, or precious eyes, + If she lay them out to take + Kisses, for good manners' sake: + And let every lover skip + From her hand unto her lip; + If she seem not chaste to me, + What care I how chaste she be? + + No; she must be perfect snow, + In effect as well as show; + Warming, but as snowballs do, + Not like fire, by burning too; + But when she by change hath got + To her heart a second lot, + Then if others share with me, + Farewell her, whate'er she be! + +Sir Walter Raleigh. + + + + +THE SHEPHERD'S DESCRIPTION OF LOVE. + + + "Shepherd, what's love? I pray thee tell!"-- + It is that fountain, and that well, + Where pleasure and repentance dwell; + It is, perhaps, that passing bell + That tolls us all to heaven or hell; + And this is love, as I heard tell. + + "Yet, what is love? good shepherd, saine!"-- + It is a sunshine mix'd with rain; + It is a toothache, or like pain; + It is a game where none doth gain: + The lass saith No, and would full fain! + And this is love, as I hear saine. + + "Yet, shepherd, what is love, I pray?"-- + It is a "Yea," it is a "Nay," + A pretty kind of sporting fray; + It is a thing will soon away; + Then, nymphs, take vantage while ye may, + And this is love, as I hear say. + + "Yet what is love? good shepherd, show!"-- + A thing that creeps, it cannot go, + A prize that passeth to and fro, + A thing for one, a thing for moe; + And he that proves shall find it so; + And, shepherd, this is love, I trow. + +Sir Walter Raleigh. + + + + +THE SHEPHERDESS'S REPLY TO THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD. + + + If 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; + Then 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 bed of roses, + Thy cup, thy kirtle, and thy posies, + Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten;-- + In folly ripe, in reason rotten. + + The belt of straw and ivy-buds, + Thy coral clasps and amber studs,-- + All these in me no means can move, + To come to thee, and be thy love. + + What should we talk of dainties, then, + Of better meat than's fit for men? + These are but vain: that's only good + Which God hath bless'd and sent for food. + + 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. + +[See "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love," page 50.] + + + + +LOVE FOR LOVE. + + + Away with these self-loving lads + Whom Cupid's arrow never glads! + Away, poor souls, that sigh and weep, + In love of them that lie and sleep! + For Cupid is a merry god, + And forceth none to kiss the rod. + + Sweet Cupid's shafts, like Destiny, + Do causeless good or ill decree; + Desert is borne out of his bow, + Reward upon his wing doth go: + What fools are they that have not known + That Love likes no laws but his own! + + My songs, they be of Cynthia's praise: + I wear her rings on holy days; + On every tree I write her name, + And every day I read the same: + Where Honour Cupid's rival is, + There miracles are seen of his. + + If Cynthia crave her ring of me, + I blot her name out of the tree; + If doubt do darken things held dear, + Then "farewell nothing," once a year: + For many run, but one must win; + Fools only hedge the cuckoo in. + + The worth that worthiness should move + Is love, which is the due of love; + And love as well the shepherd can + As can the mighty nobleman:-- + Sweet nymph, 'tis true, you worthy be; + Yet, without love, nought worth to me. + +Fulke-Greville, Lord Brooke. + + + + +CUPID AND MY CAMPASPE: APELLES' SONG. + + + Cupid and my Campaspe played + At cards for kisses: Cupid paid. + He stakes his quiver, bows 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? + +John Lyly. + + + + +A DITTY. + + + My true-love hath my heart, and I have his, + By just exchange one to the other given: + I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, + There never was a better bargain driven: + My true-love hath my heart, and I have his. + + His heart in me keeps him and me in one, + My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides: + He loves my heart, for once it was his own, + I cherish his because in me it bides: + My true-love hath my heart, and I have his. + +Sir Philip Sidney. + + + + +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 franzy, + 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 executor, blame. + From so ungrateful fancy, + From such a female franzy, + From them that use men thus, + Good Lord, deliver us! + + Let dirge 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 franzy, + 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 his unmatchèd mind, + Where she his counsel keepeth, + Till due deserts she find: + Therefore from so vile fancy, + To call such wit a franzy, + Who Love can temper thus, + Good Lord, deliver us! + +Sir Philip Sidney. + + + + +HE THAT LOVES. + + + He that loves and fears to try, + Learns his mistress to deny. + Doth she chide thee? 'tis to show it + That thy coldness makes her do it. + Is she silent, is she mute? + Silence fully grants thy suit. + Doth she pout and leave the room? + Then she goes to bid thee come. + + Is she sick? why then be sure + She invites thee to the cure. + Doth she cross thy suit with "No"? + Tush! she loves to hear thee woo. + Doth she call the faith of men + In question? nay, she loves thee then, + And if e'er she makes a blot, + She's lost if that thou hit'st her not. + + He that after ten denials + Doth attempt no further trials, + Hath no warrant to acquire + The dainties of his chaste desire. + +Sir Philip Sidney. + + + + +LOVE'S WANTONNESS. + + + Love guards the roses of thy lips, + And flies about them like a bee: + If I approach, he forward skips, + And if I kiss, he stingeth me. + Love in thine eyes doth build his bower, + And sleeps within their pretty shine; + And if I look, the boy will lower, + And from their orbs shoot shafts divine. + Love works thy heart within his fire, + And in my tears doth firm the same; + And if I tempt, it will retire, + And of my plaints doth make a game. + Love, let me cull her choicest flowers, + And pity me, and calm her eye; + Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers, + Then will I praise thy deity, + But if thou do not, Love, I'll truly serve her + In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her. + +Thomas Lodge. + + + + +ROSALINE. + + + Like to the clear in highest sphere + Where all imperial glory shines, + Of selfsame colour is her hair + Whether unfolded, or in twines: + Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! + Her eyes are sapphires set in snow, + Resembling heaven by every wink; + The Gods do fear whenas they glow, + And I do tremble when I think + Heigh ho, would she were mine! + + Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud + That beautifies Aurora's face, + Or like the silver crimson shroud + That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace; + Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! + Her lips are like two budded roses + Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh, + Within which bounds she balm encloses + Apt to entice a deity: + Heigh ho, would she were mine! + + Her neck is like a stately tower + Where Love himself imprison'd lies, + To watch for glances every hour + From her divine and sacred eyes: + Heigh ho, for Rosaline! + Her paps are centres of delight, + Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame, + Where Nature moulds the dew of light + To feed perfection with the same: + Heigh ho, would she were mine! + + With orient pearl, with ruby red, + With marble white, with sapphire blue + Her body every way is fed, + Yet soft in touch and sweet in view: + Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! + Nature herself her shape admires; + The Gods are wounded in her sight; + And Love forsakes his heavenly fires + And at her eyes his brand doth light: + Heigh ho, would she were mine! + + Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan + The absence of fair Rosaline, + Since for a fair there's fairer none, + Nor for her virtues so divine: + Heigh ho, fair Rosaline; + Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were mine! + +Thomas Lodge. + + + + +THE MAY QUEEN. + + + With fragrant flowers we strew the way, + And make this our chief holiday; + For though this clime were blest of yore, + Yet was it never proud before. + O beauteous Queen of second Troy, + Accept of our unfeignèd joy! + + Now th' air is sweeter than sweet balm, + And satyrs dance about the palm; + Now earth, with verdure newly dight, + Gives perfect signs of her delight. + O beauteous Queen of second Troy, + Accept of our unfeignèd joy! + + Now birds recall new harmony, + And trees do whistle melody; + Now everything that nature breeds, + Doth clad itself in pleasant weeds. + O beauteous Queen of second Troy, + Accept of our unfeignèd joy! + +Thomas Watson. + + + + +PHILLIDA AND CORYDON. + + + In the merry month of May, + In a morn by break of day, + With a troop of damsels playing, + Forth I rode, forsooth, a-maying, + When anon by a woodside, + Where as May was in his pride, + I espied, 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 do 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. + +Richard Breton. + + + + +SHALL I COME, SWEET LOVE? + + + Shall I come, sweet Love, to thee + When the evening beams are set? + Shall I not excluded be, + Will you find no feigned let? + Let me not, for pity, more + Tell the long hours at your door. + + Who can tell what thief or foe, + In the covert of the night, + For his prey will work my woe, + Or through wicked foul despite? + So may I die unredrest + Ere my long love be possest. + + But to let such dangers pass, + Which a lover's thoughts disdain, + 'Tis enough in such a place + To attend love's joys in vain: + Do not mock me in thy bed, + While these cold nights freeze me dead. + +Thomas Campion. + + + + +CHERRY-RIPE. + + + There is a garden in her face + Where roses and white lilies blow; + A heavenly paradise 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 fill'd with snow. + Yet them no peer nor prince may buy, + Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry. + + Her eyes like angels watch them still; + Her brows like bended bows do stand, + Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill + All that approach with eye or hand + These sacred cherries to come nigh, + Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry. + +Thomas Campion. + + + + +FAIR SAMELA. + + + Like to Diana in her summer weed, + Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye, + Goes fair Samela; + + Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed, + When wash'd by Arethusa's fount they lie, + Is fair Samela; + + As fair Aurora in her morning gray, + Deck'd with the ruddy glister of her love, + Is fair Samela; + + Like lovely Thetis on a calmèd day, + Whenas her brightness Neptune's fancy move, + Shines fair Samela; + + Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassy streams, + Her teeth are pearl, the breasts are ivory + Of fair Samela; + + Her cheeks, like rose and lily, yield forth gleams, + Her brows, bright arches fram'd of ebony; + Thus fair Samela + + Passeth fair Venus in her bravest hue, + And Juno in the show of majesty, + (For she's Samela!) + + Pallas in wit,--all three, if you well view, + For beauty, wit, and matchless dignity + Yield to Samela. + +Robert Greene. + + + + +KINDS OF LOVE. + + + Foolish love is only folly; + Wanton love is too unholy; + Greedy love is covetous; + Idle love is frivolous; + But the gracious love is it + That doth prove the work of wit. + + Beauty but deceives the eye; + Flattery leads the ear awry; + Wealth doth but enchant the wit; + Want, the overthrow of it; + While in Wisdom's worthy grace, + Virtue sees the sweetest face. + + There hath Love found out his life, + Peace without all thought of strife; + Kindness in Discretion's care; + Truth, that clearly doth declare + Faith doth in true fancy prove, + Lust the excrements of Love. + + Then in faith may fancy see + How my love may construèd be; + How it grows and what it seeks; + How it lives and what it likes; + So in highest grace regard it, + Or in lowest scorn discard it. + +Robert Greene. + + + + +LOVE AND BEAUTY. + + + Pretty twinkling starry eyes, + How did Nature first devise + Such a sparkling in your sight + As to give Love such delight, + As to make him like a fly, + Play with looks until he die? + + Sure ye were not made at first + For such mischief to be curst; + As to kill Affection's care + That doth only truth declare; + Where worth's wonders never wither, + Love and Beauty live together. + + Blessed eyes, then give your blessing, + That in passion's best expressing; + Love that only lives to grace ye, + May not suffer pride deface ye; + But in gentle thought's directions + Show the power of your perfections. + +Robert Greene. + + + + +LOVE'S SERVILE LOT. + + + Love mistress is of many minds, + Yet few know whom they serve; + They reckon least how little hope + Their service doth deserve. + + The will she robbeth from the wit, + The sense from reason's lore; + She is delightful in the rind, + Corrupted in the core. + + May never was the month of love, + For May is full of flowers; + But rather April, wet by kind; + For love is full of showers. + + With soothing words inthrallèd souls + She chains in servile bands! + Her eye in silence hath a speech + Which eye best understands. + + Her little sweet hath many sours, + Short hap, immortal harms; + Her loving looks are murdering darts, + Her songs bewitching charms. + + Like winter rose, and summer ice, + Her joys are still untimely; + Before her hope, behind remorse, + Fair first, in fine unseemly. + + Plough not the seas, sow not the sands, + Leave off your idle pain; + Seek other mistress for your minds, + Love's service is in vain. + +Robert Southwell. + + + + +THE HEART OF STONE. + + + Whence comes my love? O heart, disclose! + It was from cheeks that shame the rose, + From lips that spoil the ruby's praise, + From eyes that mock the diamond's blaze: + Whence comes my woe? as freely own; + Ah me! 'twas from a heart like stone. + + The blushing cheek speaks modest mind, + The lips befitting words most kind, + The eye does tempt to love's desire, + And seems to say, "'Tis Cupid's fire;" + Yet all so fair but speak my moan, + Since nought doth say the heart of stone. + + Why thus, my love, so kind bespeak + Sweet eye, sweet lip, sweet blushing cheek,-- + Yet not a heart to save my pain? + O Venus, take thy gifts again! + Make not so fair to cause our moan, + Or make a heart that's like your own. + +John Harrington. + + + + +A SHEPHERD'S SONG TO HIS LOVE. + + + Diaphenia, like the daffa-down-dilly, + White as the sun, fair as the lily, + Heigh-ho, how I do love thee! + I do love thee as my lambs + Are belovèd of their dams: + How blest I were if thou would'st prove me! + + Diaphenia, like the spreading roses, + That in thy sweets all sweets encloses, + Fair sweet, how I do love thee! + I do love thee as each flower + Loves the sun's life-giving power; + For, dead, thy breath to life might move me. + + Diaphenia, like to all things blessèd, + When all thy praises are expressèd, + Dear joy, how I do love thee! + As the birds do love the spring, + Or the bees their careful king: + Then, in requite, sweet virgin, love me! + +Henry Constable. + + + + +LOVE NOW, FOR ROSES FADE. + + + Look, Delia, how we esteem the half-blown rose, + The image of thy blush, and summer's honour! + Whilst yet her tender bud doth undisclose + That full of beauty Time bestows upon her: + No sooner spreads her glory in the air, + But straight her wide-blown pomp comes to decline; + She then is scorn'd, that late adorn'd the fair. + So fade the roses of those cheeks of thine! + + No April can revive thy withered flowers, + Whose springing grace adorns thy glory now: + Swift speedy Time, feathered with flying hours, + Dissolves the beauty of the fairest brow. + Then do not thou such treasure waste in vain, + But love now, whilst thou may'st be loved again. + +Samuel Daniel. + + + + +EARLY LOVE. + + + Ah! I remember well (and how can I + But evermore remember well) when first + Our flame began, when scarce we knew what was + The flame we felt; when as we sat and sigh'd + And look'd upon each other, and conceived + Not what we ail'd--yet something we did ail; + And yet were well, and yet we were not well, + And what was our disease we could not tell. + Then would we kiss, then sigh, then look; and thus + In that first garden of our simpleness + We spent our childhood. But when years began + To reap the fruit of knowledge, ah, how then + Would she with graver looks, with sweet, stern brow, + Check my presumption and my forwardness; + Yet still would give me flowers, still would me show + What she would have me, yet not have me know. + +Samuel Daniel. + + + + +LOVE IS A SICKNESS. + + + Love is a sickness full of woes, + All remedies refusing; + A plant that most with cutting grows, + Most barren with best using. + Why so? + More we enjoy it, more it dies, + If not enjoyed, it sighing cries, + Heigh-ho! + + Love is a torment of the mind, + A tempest everlasting; + And Jove hath made it of a kind + Not well, nor full nor fasting. + Why so? + More we enjoy it, more it dies, + If not enjoyed, it sighing cries, + Heigh-ho! + +Samuel Daniel. + + + + +THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE. + + + Come live with me, and be my love, + And we will all the pleasures prove + That valleys, groves, and hills, and fields, + Woods or steepy mountain yields. + + And we will sit upon the rocks, + Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks + By shallow rivers, to whose falls + Melodious birds sing madrigals. + + And I will make thee beds of roses, + And a thousand fragrant posies: + A cap of flowers, and a kirtle, + Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle. + + A gown made of the finest wool, + Which from our pretty lambs we'll pull; + Fair lined slippers for the cold, + With buckles of the purest gold. + + A belt of straw and ivy buds, + With coral clasps and amber studs: + And if these pleasures may thee move, + Come live with me and be my love. + + The shepherd swains shall dance and sing + For thy delight each May morning. + If these delights thy mind may move, + Come live with me and be my love. + +Christopher Marlowe. + +[See "The Shepherdess's Reply to The Passionate Pilgrim," page 22.] + + + + +LOVE'S OMNIPRESENCE. + + + 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, + Whereso'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 wax'd blind, and till the world were done. + + Whereso'er I am, below, or else above you, + Whereso'er you are, my heart shall truly love you. + +J. Sylvester. + + + + +A PARTING; OR, LOVE'S LAST CHANCE. + + + Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part: + Nay, I have done, you get no more of me; + And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, + That thus so clearly I myself can free. + Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, + And, when we meet at any time again, + Be it not seen in either of our brows + That we one jot of former love retain. + Now, at the last gasp of Love's latest breath, + When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies, + When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, + And Innocence is closing up his eyes; + Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, + From death to life thou mightst him yet recover. + +Michael Drayton. + + + + +WHO IS SILVIA? + + + Who is Silvia? What is she, + That all our swains commend her? + Holy, fair, and wise is she: + The heavens such grace did lend her, + That she might 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 helped, 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. + +William Shakespeare. + + + + +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. + + Sing no more ditties, sing no moe + Of dumps so dull and heavy; + The fraud of men was ever so, + Since summer first was leafy. + Then sigh not so, + But let them go, + And be you blithe and bonny, + Converting all your sounds of woe + Into, Hey nonny, nonny. + +William Shakespeare. + + + + +A MORNING SONG FOR IMOGEN. + + + 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; + And winking Mary-buds begin + To ope their golden eyes: + With everything that pretty is, + My lady sweet arise: + Arise, arise. + +William Shakespeare. + + + + +THE UNFAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS. + + + While that the sun with his beams hot + Scorchèd the fruits in vale and mountain, + Philon the shepherd, late forgot, + Sitting beside a crystal fountain, + In shadow of a green oak tree + Upon his pipe this song play'd he: + Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love, + Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love; + Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. + + So long as I was in your sight + I was your heart, your soul, and treasure; + And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd + Burning in flames beyond all measure: + --Three days endured your love to me, + And it was lost in other three! + Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love, + Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love; + Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. + + Another Shepherd you did see + To whom your heart was soon enchainèd; + Full soon your love was leapt from me, + Full soon my place he had obtainèd. + Soon came a third, your love to win, + And we were out and he was in. + Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love, + Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love; + Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. + + Sure you have made me passing glad + That you your mind so soon removèd, + Before that I the leisure had + To choose you for my best belovèd: + For all your love was past and done + Two days before it was begun:-- + Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love, + Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love; + Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. + +Anon., circa 1564. + + + + +TRUE LOVELINESS. + + + It is not Beauty I demand, + A crystal brow, the moon's despair, + Nor the snow's daughter, a white hand, + Nor mermaid's yellow pride of hair: + + Tell me not of your starry eyes, + Your lips that seem on roses fed, + Your breasts, where Cupid tumbling lies, + Nor sleeps for kissing of his bed:-- + + A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks, + Like Hebe's in her ruddiest hours, + A breath that softer music speaks + Than summer winds a-wooing flowers, + + These are but gauds: nay, what are lips? + Coral beneath the ocean-stream, + Whose brink when your adventurer slips, + Full oft he perisheth on them. + + And what are cheeks, but ensigns oft + That wave hot youth to fields of blood? + Did Helen's breast, though ne'er so soft, + Do Greece or Ilium any good? + + Eyes can with baleful ardour burn; + Poison can breathe, that erst perfumed; + There's many a white hand holds an urn + With lovers' hearts to dust consumed. + + For crystal brows there's nought within, + They are but empty cells for pride; + He who the Siren's hair would win + Is mostly strangled in the tide. + + Give me, instead of Beauty's bust, + A tender heart, a loyal mind, + Which with temptation I would trust, + Yet never link'd with error find,-- + + One in whose gentle bosom I + Could pour my secret heart of woes, + Like the care-burthen'd honey-fly + That hides his murmurs in the rose,-- + + My earthly Comforter! whose love + So indefeasible might be, + That when my spirit wonn'd above, + Hers could not stay, for sympathy. + +Anon. + + + + +A WOMAN'S REASON. + + + Love me not for comely grace, + For my pleasing eye or face, + Nor for any outward part; + No! nor for my constant heart,-- + For these may fail, or turn to ill; + So thou and I shall sever: + Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye, + And love me well, but know not why. + So hast thou the same reason still + To dote upon me ever! + +Anon. + + + + +LOVE WILL FIND OUT THE WAY. + + + Over the mountains + And over the waves, + Under the fountains + And under the graves; + Under floods that are deepest, + Which Neptune obey; + Over rocks that are steepest, + Love will find out the way. + + Where there is no place + For the glow-worm to lie; + Where there is no space + For receipt of a fly; + Where the midge dares not venture, + Lest herself fast she lay; + If love come, he will enter + And soon find out his way. + + You may esteem him + A child for his might; + Or you may deem him + A coward for his flight; + But if she whom Love doth honour + Be concealed from the day, + Set a thousand guards upon her, + Love will find out the way. + + Some think to lose him + By having him confin'd, + And some do suppose him, + Poor thing, to be blind; + But if ne'er so close you wall him, + Do the best that you may; + Blind Love, if so ye call him, + Will find out his way. + + You may train the eagle + To stoop to your fist; + Or you may inveigle + The Phoenix of the East; + The lioness, you may move her + To give o'er her prey; + But you will never stop a lover-- + He will find out his way. + +Anon. + + + + +PHILLIDA FLOUTS ME. + + + Oh, what a plague is love! + I cannot bear it, + She will inconstant prove, + I greatly fear it; + It so torments my mind, + That my heart faileth, + She wavers with the wind, + As a ship saileth; + Please her the best I may, + She looks another way; + Alack and well a-day! + Phillida flouts me. + + I often heard her say + That she loved posies: + In the last month of May + I gave her roses, + Cowslips and gillyflow'rs + And the sweet lily, + I got to deck the bow'rs + Of my dear Philly; + She did them all disdain, + And threw them back again; + Therefore, 'tis flat and plain + Phillida flouts me. + + Which way soe'er I go, + She still torments me; + And whatsoe'er I do, + Nothing contents me: + I fade, and pine away + With grief and sorrow; + I fall quite to decay, + Like any shadow; + Since 'twill no better be, + I'll bear it patiently; + Yet all the world may see + Phillida flouts me. + +Circa 1610. + + + + +IN PRAISE OF TWO. + + + Faustina hath the fairest face, + And Phillida the better grace; + Both have mine eye enriched: + This sings full sweetly with her voice; + Her fingers make so sweet a noise: + Both have mine ear bewitched. + Ah me! sith Fates have so provided, + My heart, alas! must be divided. + +Anon. + + + + +TO HIS FORSAKEN MISTRESS. + + + I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair, + And I might have gone near to love thee, + Had I not found the slightest prayer + That lips could speak, had power to move thee; + But I can let thee now alone, + As worthy to be loved by none. + + I do confess thou'rt sweet, but find + Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets, + Thy favours are but like the wind, + That kisses everything it meets; + And since thou can with more than one, + Thou'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none. + + The morning rose that untouch'd stands, + Arm'd with her briars, how sweetly smells; + But, pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands, + Her sweet no longer with her dwells. + But scent and beauty both are gone, + And leaves fall from her, one by one. + + Such fate ere long will thee betide, + When thou hast handled been a while; + Like sere flowers to be thrown aside;-- + And I will sigh, while some will smile, + To see thy love for more than one + Hath brought thee to be loved by none. + +Sir Robert Aytoun. + + + + +ON WOMAN'S INCONSTANCY. + + + I Lov'd thee once, I'll love no more, + Thine be the grief as is the blame; + Thou art not what thou wert before, + What reason I should be the same? + He that can love unlov'd again, + Hath better store of love than brain: + God send me love my debts to pay, + While unthrifts fool their love away. + + Nothing could have my love o'erthrown, + If thou hadst still continued mine; + Yea, if thou hadst remain'd thy own, + I might perchance have yet been thine. + But thou thy freedom did recall, + That if thou might elsewhere inthral; + And then how could I but disdain + A captive's captive to remain? + + When new desires had conquer'd thee, + And chang'd the object of thy will, + It had been lethargy in me, + Not constancy to love thee still. + Yea it had been a sin to go + And prostitute affection so, + Since we are taught no prayers to say + To such as must to others pray. + + Yet do thou glory in thy choice, + Thy choice of his good fortune's boast; + I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice + To see him gain what I have lost; + The height of my disdain shall be, + To laugh at him, to blush for thee; + To love thee still, but go no more + A-begging to a beggar's door. + +Sir Robert Aytoun. + + + + +THE THREE STATES OF WOMAN. + + + In a maiden-time profess'd, + Then we say that life is bless'd; + Tasting once the married life, + Then we only praise the wife; + There's but one state more to try, + Which makes women laugh or cry-- + Widow, widow: of these three + The middle's best, and that give me. + +Thomas Middleton. + + + + +MY LOVE AND I MUST PART. + + + Weep eyes, break heart! + My love and I must part. + Cruel fates true love do soonest sever; + O, I shall see thee never, never, never! + O, happy is the maid whose life takes end + Ere it knows parent's frown or loss of friend! + Weep eyes, break heart! + My love and I must part. + +Thomas Middleton. + + + + +PERFECT BEAUTY. + + + It was a beauty that I saw, + So pure, so perfect, as the frame + Of all the universe was lame, + To that one figure, could I draw, + Or give least line of it a law! + A skein of silk without a knot, + A fair march made without a halt, + A curious form without a fault, + A printed book without a blot, + All beauty, and without a spot! + +Ben Jonson. + + + + +TO CELIA. + + + Drink to me only with thine eyes, + And I will pledge with mine; + Or leave a kiss but in the cup, + And I'll not look for wine. + The thirst that from the soul doth rise + Doth ask a drink divine; + But might I of Jove's nectar sup, + I would not change for thine. + + I sent thee late a rosy wreath, + Not so much honouring thee + As giving it a hope that there + It could not withered be: + But thou thereon didst only breathe + And sent'st it back to me; + Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, + Not of itself, but thee! + +Ben Jonson. + + + + +A WOMAN'S CONSTANCY. + + + Now thou hast loved me one whole day, + To-morrow, when thou leav'st, what wilt thou say? + Wilt thou then ante-date some new-made vow? + Or say, that now + We are not just those persons which we were? + Or, that oaths made in reverential fear + Of Love and his wrath any may forswear? + Or, as true deaths true marriages untie, + So lovers' contracts, images of those, + Bind but till Sleep, Death's image, them unloose? + Or, your own end to justify + For having purposed change and falsehood, you + Can have no way but falsehood to be true? + Vain lunatic! Against these scapes I could + Dispute and conquer if I would; + Which I abstain to do; + For, by to-morrow, I may think so too. + +Dr. John Donne. + + + + +SWEETEST LOVE. + + + Sweetest love, I do not go + For weariness of thee, + Nor in hope the world can show + A fitter love for me. + But since that I + Must die at last, 'tis best + Thus to use myself in jest + By feigned death to die. + + Yester-night the sun went hence, + And yet is here to-day; + He hath no desire nor sense, + Nor half so short a way: + Then fear not me, + But believe that I shall make + Hastier journeys, since I take + More wings and spurs than he. + +Dr. John Donne. + + + + +TO AURORA. + + + O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm, + And dost prejudge thy bliss, and spoil my rest; + Then would'st thou melt the ice out of thy breast, + And thy relenting heart would kindly warm. + O, if thy pride did not our joys control, + What world of loving wonders should'st thou see! + For if I saw thee once transform'd in me, + Then in thy bosom I would pour my soul; + Then all my thoughts should in thy visage shine, + And if that aught mischanced thou should'st not moan + Nor bear the burthen of thy griefs alone: + No, I would have my share in what were thine: + And whilst we thus should make our sorrows one, + This happy harmony would make them none. + +W. Alexander, Earl of Stirling. + + + + +PHILLIS. + + + In petticoat of green, + Her hair about her eyne, + Phillis, beneath an oak, + Sat milking her fair flock. + 'Mongst that sweet-strained moisture, rare delight! + Her hand seem'd milk, in milk it was so white. + +William Drummond. + + + + +TAKE THOSE LIPS AWAY. + + + Take, O, 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 sealed in vain, sealed in vain. + + Hide, O, hide those hills of snow, + Which thy frozen bosom bears, + On whose tops the pinks that grow + Are of those that April wears; + But first set my poor heart free, + Bound in icy chains by thee. + +Beaumont and Fletcher. + + + + +TELL ME, WHAT IS LOVE? + + + Tell me, dearest, what is love? + 'Tis a lightning from above, + 'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire, + 'Tis a boy they call Desire. + 'Tis a grave + Gapes to have + Those poor fools that long to prove. + + Tell me more, are women true? + Yes, some are, and some as you; + Some are willing, some are strange, + Since you men first taught to change. + And till truth + Be in both + All shall love to love anew. + + Tell me more yet, can they grieve? + Yes, and sicken sore, but live: + And be wise and delay, + When you men are as wise as they. + Then I see + Faith will be + Never till they both believe. + +Francis Beaumont. + + + + +PINING FOR LOVE. + + + How long shall I pine for love? + How long shall I sue in vain? + How long like the turtle-dove, + Shall I heartily thus complain? + Shall the sails of my heart stand still? + Shall the grists of my hope be unground? + Oh fie, oh fie, oh fie, + Let the mill, let the mill go round. + +Francis Beaumont. + + + + +FIE ON LOVE. + + + Now fie on foolish love, it not befits + Or man or woman know it. + Love was not meant for people in their wits, + And they that fondly show it + Betray the straw, and features in their brain, + And shall have Bedlam for their pain: + If simple love be such a curse, + To marry is to make it ten times worse. + +Francis Beaumont. + + + + +DAMOETAS' 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, + Heavens Jove's delight, + With Daphnis' praise. + + Her tresses are like wires of beaten gold, + Gold bright and sheen; + Like Nisus' golden hair that Scylla poll'd, + Scyll o'erseen + Through Minos' love. + + 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 wandering ships. + + Amidst her cheeks the rose and lily strive, + Lily snow-white: + When their contést 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 do 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. + + Cease to tell of any more compare, + Compares too rude, + Daphnis' deserts and beauty are too rare: + Then here conclude + Fair Daphnis' praise. + +John Wootton. + + + + +SHALL I, WASTING IN DESPAIR? + + + Shall I, wasting in despair, + Die because a woman's fair? + Or my cheeks make pale with care, + 'Cause another's rosy are? + Be she fairer than the day, + Or the flowery meads in May, + If she be not so to me, + What care I how fair she be? + + Shall my foolish heart be pined + 'Cause I see a woman kind; + Or a well-disposèd nature + Joinèd with a lovely feature? + Be she meeker, kinder, than + Turtle-dove or pelican, + If she be not so to me, + What care I how kind she be? + + Shall a woman's virtues move + Me to perish for her love? + Or her merit's value known, + Make me quite forget mine own? + Be she with that goodness blest + Which may gain her name of Best; + If she seem not such to me, + What care I how good she be? + + 'Cause her fortune seems too high, + Shall I play the fool and die? + Those that bear a noble mind, + Where they want, of riches find. + Think what with them they would do + Who without them dare to woo: + And unless that mind I see, + What care I tho' great she be? + + Great or good, or kind or fair, + I will ne'er the more despair; + If she love me, this believe, + I will die ere she shall grieve; + If she slight me when I woo, + I can scorn and let her go; + For if she be not for me, + What care I for whom she be? + +George Wither. + + + + +TO ONE WHO, WHEN I PRAISED MY MISTRESS'S BEAUTY, SAID I WAS BLIND. + + + Wonder not, though I am blind, + For you must be + Dark in your eyes, or in your mind, + If, when you see + Her face, you prove not blind like me; + If the powerful beams that fly + From her eye, + And those amorous sweets that lie + Scatter'd in each neighbouring part, + Find a passage to your heart, + Then you'll confess your mortal sight + Too weak for such a glorious light: + For if her graces you discover, + You grow, like me, a dazzled lover; + But if those beauties you not spy, + Then are you blinder far than I. + +Thomas Carew. + + + + +HE THAT LOVES A ROSY CHEEK + + + He that loves a rosy cheek, + Or a coral lip admires, + Or from star-like eyes doth seek + Fuel to maintain his fires; + As old Time makes these decay, + So his flames must waste away. + + But a smooth and steadfast mind, + Gentle thoughts and calm desires, + Hearts with equal love combined, + Kindle never-dying fires; + Where these are not, I despise + Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes. + +Thomas Carew. + + + + +MATIN SONG. + + + Rise, Lady Mistress! rise! + The night hath tedious been; + No sleep hath fallen into mine eyes, + Nor slumbers made me sin. + Is not she a saint, then, say! + Thought of whom keeps sin away? + + Rise, madam! rise, and give me light, + Whom darkness still will cover, + And ignorance, more dark than night, + Till thou smile on thy lover. + All want day till thy beauty rise, + For the gray morn breaks from thine eyes. + +Nathaniel Field. + + + + +JULIA. + + + Some asked me where the rubies grew, + And nothing did I say, + But with my finger pointed to + The lips of Julia. + + Some asked how pearls did grow, and where; + Then spake I to my girl, + To part her lips and show me there + The quarelets of pearl. + + One asked me where the roses grew; + I bade him not go seek, + But forthwith bade my Julia show + A bud in either cheek. + +Robert Herrick. + + + + +CHERRY RIPE. + + + "Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe," I cry, + "Full and fair ones--come and buy;" + If so be you ask me where + They do grow? I answer, "There, + Where my Julia's lips do smile;" + There's the land, or cherry-isle, + Whose plantations fully show + All the year where cherries grow! + +Robert Herrick. + + + + +TO THE VIRGINS. + + + Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, + Old Time is still a-flying; + And this same flower that smiles to-day, + To-morrow will be dying. + + The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, + The higher he's a-getting, + The sooner will his race be run, + And nearer he's to setting. + + That age is best which is the first, + When youth and blood are warmer; + But being spent, the worse and worst + Times still succeed the former. + + Then be not coy, but use your time, + And while ye may, go marry; + For having lost but once your prime, + You may for ever tarry. + +Robert Herrick. + + + + +TO ELECTRA. + + + I dare not ask a kiss; + I dare not beg a smile; + Lest having that or this, + I might grow proud the while. + + No, no, the utmost share + Of my desire shall be, + Only to kiss that air + That lately kissèd thee. + +Robert Herrick. + + + + +DRY THOSE EYES. + + + Dry those fair, those crystal eyes, + Which like growing fountains rise + To drown their banks! Grief's sullen brooks + Would better flow in furrow'd looks: + Thy lovely face was never meant + To be the shore of discontent. + + Then clear those waterish stars again, + Which else portend a lasting rain; + Lest the clouds which settle there + Prolong my winter all the year, + And thy example others make + In love with sorrow, for thy sake. + +Dr. Henry King. + + + + +LOVE'S CONSTANCY. + + + Dear, if you change, I'll never choose again; + Sweet, if you shrink, I'll never think of love; + Fair, if you fail, I'll judge all beauty vain; + Wise, if too weak, more wits I'll never prove. + Dear, sweet, fair, wise,--change, shrink, nor be not weak; + And, on my faith, my faith shall never break. + + Earth with her flowers shall sooner heaven adorn; + Heaven her bright stars through earth's dim globe shall move; + Fire heat shall lose, and frosts of flames be born; + Air, made to shine, as black as hell shall prove: + Earth, heaven, fire, air, the world transformed shall view, + Ere I prove false to faith, or strange to you. + +John Dowland. + + + + +FAREWELL, MY JOY. + + + Farewell! my joy! + Adieu! my love and pleasure! + To sport and toy + We have no longer leisure. + Fa la la! + + Farewell! adieu! + Until our next consorting! + Sweet love, be true! + And thus we end our sporting. + Fa la la! + +Thomas Weelkes. + + + + +THE LARK NOW LEAVES HIS WAT'RY NEST. + + + The lark now leaves his wat'ry nest, + And climbing, shakes his dewy wings, + He takes your window for the east, + And to implore your light, he sings; + Awake, awake, the morn will never rise + Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes. + + The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, + The ploughman from the sun his season takes; + But still the lover wonders what they are, + Who look for day before his mistress wakes. + Awake, awake, break through your veils of lawn, + Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn. + +Sir William Davenant. + + + + +GO, LOVELY ROSE. + + + Go, lovely Rose, + Tell her that wastes her time and me, + That now she knows + When I resemble her to thee, + How sweet and fair she seems to be. + + Tell her that's young, + And shuns to have her graces spied, + That had'st thou sprung + In deserts where no men abide, + Thou must have uncommended died. + + Small is the worth + Of beauty from the light retired; + Bid her come forth, + Suffer herself to be desired, + And not blush so to be admired. + + Then die, that she + The common fate of all things rare + May read in thee, + How small a part of time they share + Who are so wondrous sweet and fair! + +Edmund Waller. + + + + +HIS MISTRESS. + + + I have a mistress, for perfections rare + In every eye, but in my thoughts most fair. + Like tapers on the altar shine her eyes; + Her breath is the perfume of sacrifice. + And wheresoe'er my fancy would begin, + Still her perfection lets religion in. + We sit and talk, and kiss away the hours + As chastely as the morning dews kiss flowers. + I touch her, like my beads, with devout care, + And come unto my courtship as my prayer. + +Thomas Randolph. + + + + +CHLORIS. + + + Amyntas, go! Thou art undone, + Thy faithful heart is crossed by fate; + That love is better not begun, + Where love is come to love too late. + + Yet who that saw fair Chloris weep + Such sacred dew, with such pure grace, + Durst think them feignèd tears, or seek + For treason in an angel's face. + +Henry Vaughan. + + + + +LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG. + + + Love me little, love me long, + Is the burden of my song; + Love that is too hot and strong + Burneth soon to waste; + Still I would not have thee cold, + Or backward, or too bold, + For love that lasteth till 'tis old + Fadeth not in haste. + + Winter's cold, or summer's heat, + Autumn tempests on it beat, + It can never know defeat, + Never can rebel; + Such the love that I would gain, + Such love, I tell thee plain, + That thou must give or love in vain, + So to thee farewell. + +Circa 1610. + + + + +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 harm'd 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. + + O 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; + I know thee what thou art, + I serve thee with my heart, + And fall before thee. + +Captain Tobias Hume. + + + + +TO ROSES IN CASTARA'S BREAST. + + + Ye blushing Virgins happy are + In the chaste Nunn'ry of her breasts, + For he'd profane so chaste a fair, + Whoe'er should call them Cupid's nests. + + Transplanted thus how bright ye grow, + How rich a perfume do ye yield? + In some close garden, cowslips so + Are sweeter than in th' open field. + + In those white Cloisters live secure + From the rude blasts of wanton breath, + Each hour more innocent and pure, + Till you shall wither into death. + + Then that which living gave you room, + Your glorious sepulchre shall be; + There wants no marble for a tomb, + Whose breast hath marble been to me. + +William Habington. + + + + +THOU PRETTY BIRD. + + + Thou pretty bird, how do I see + Thy silly state and mine agree! + For thou a prisoner art; + So is my heart. + Thou sing'st to her, and so do I address + My music to her ear that's merciless; + But herein doth the difference lie,-- + That thou art graced; so am not I; + Thou singing livest, and I must singing die. + +John Danyel. + + + + +ONCE I LOV'D A MAIDEN FAIR. + + + Once I lov'd a maiden fair, + But she did deceive me; + She with Venus might compare, + In my mind, believe me: + She was young, and among + All our maids the sweetest. + Now I say, ah! well-a-day! + Brightest hopes are fleetest. + + I the wedding ring had got, + Wedding clothes provided, + Sure the church would bind a knot + Ne'er to be divided: + Married we straight must be, + She her vows had plighted; + Vows, alas! as frail as glass: + All my hopes are blighted. + + Maidens wav'ring and untrue, + Many a heart have broken; + Sweetest lips the world e'er knew, + Falsest words have spoken. + Fare thee well, faithless girl, + I'll not sorrow for thee; + Once I held thee dear as pearl, + Now I do abhor thee. + +Temp. Jas. I. (condensed by T. Oxenford). + + + + +I PR'YTHEE SEND ME BACK MY HEART. + + + I pr'ythee send me back my heart, + Since I cannot have thine; + For if from yours you will not part, + Why then shouldst thou have mine? + + Yet now I think on't, let it lie; + To find it were in vain, + For thou'st a thief in either eye + Would steal it back again. + + Why should two hearts in one breast lie, + And yet not lodge together? + O love! where is thy sympathy, + If thus our breasts you sever? + + But love is such a mystery, + I cannot find it out; + For when I think I'm best resolved, + I then am most in doubt. + + Then farewell love, and farewell woe, + I will no longer pine; + For I'll believe I have her heart + As much as she hath mine. + +Sir John Suckling. + + + + +ORSAMES' SONG. + + + Why so pale and wan, fond lover? + Prithee, why so pale? + Will, when looking well can't move her, + Looking ill prevail? + Prithee, why so pale? + + Why so dull and mute, young sinner? + Prithee, why so mute? + Will, when speaking well can't win her, + Saying nothing do't? + Prithee, why so mute? + + Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move, + This cannot take her; + If of herself she will not love, + Nothing can make her: + The devil take her! + +Sir John Suckling. + + + + +SINCE FIRST I SAW YOUR FACE. + + + Since first I saw your face I resolved + To honour and renown you; + If now I be disdained + I wish my heart had never known you. + What! I that loved, and you that liked, + Shall we begin to wrangle? + No, no, no, my heart is fast + And cannot disentangle. + + The sun whose beams most glorious are, + Rejecteth no beholder, + And your sweet beauty past compare, + Made my poor eyes the bolder. + Where beauty moves, and wit delights + And signs of kindness bind me, + There, oh! there, where'er I go + I leave my heart behind me. + + If I admire or praise you too much, + That fault you may forgive me, + Or if my hands had strayed but a touch, + Then justly might you leave me. + I asked you leave, you bade me love; + Is't now a time to chide me? + No, no, no, I'll love you still, + What fortune e'er betide me. + +Circa 1617. + + + + +THE GIVEN HEART. + + + I Wonder what those lovers mean, who say + They've given their hearts away. + Some good, kind lover, tell me how: + For mine is but a torment to me now. + + If so it be one place both hearts contain, + For what do they complain? + What courtesy can Love do more, + Than to join hearts that parted were before? + + Woe to her stubborn heart, if once mine come + Into the self-same room; + 'Twill tear and blow up all within + Like a grenade shot into a magazine. + + Then shall Love keep the ashes and torn parts + Of both our broken hearts; + Shall out of both one new one make, + From hers th' alloy, from mine the metal take. + + For of her heart he from the flames will find + But little left behind: + Mine only will remain entire, + No dross was there to perish in the fire. + +Abraham Cowley. + + + + +ICE AND FIRE. + + + Naked Love did to thine eye, + Chloris, once to warm him, fly; + But its subtle flame, and light, + Scorch'd his wings, and spoiled his sight. + + Forc'd from thence he went to rest + In the soft couch of thy breast: + But there met a frost so great, + As his torch extinguish'd straight. + + When poor Cupid (thus constrain'd + His cold bed to leave) complain'd: + "'Las! what lodging's here for me, + If all ice and fire she be." + +Sir Edmund Sherburne. + + + + +AMARANTHA. + + + Amarantha, sweet and fair, + Forbear to braid that shining hair; + As my curious hand or eye, + Hovering round thee, let it fly: + + Let it fly as unconfined + As its ravisher the wind, + Who has left his darling east + To wanton o'er this spicy nest. + + Every tress must be confess'd + But neatly tangled at the best, + Like a clew of golden thread, + Most excellently ravelled. + + Do not then wind up that light + In ribands, and o'ercloud the night; + Like the sun in his early ray, + But shake your head and scatter day. + +Richard Lovelace. + + + + +TO ALTHEA, FROM PRISON. + + + When love, with unconfined wings, + Hovers within my gates, + And my divine Althea brings + To whisper at the grates; + When I lie tangled in her hair, + And fetter'd to her eye-- + The birds that wanton in the air, + Know no such liberty. + + * * * * * + + Stone walls do not a prison make, + Nor iron bars a cage; + Minds innocent and quiet take + That for an hermitage. + If I have freedom in my love, + And in my soul am free,-- + Angels alone, that soar above, + Enjoy such liberty. + +Richard Lovelace. + + + + +A MOCK SONG. + + + Tis true I never was in love: + But now I mean to be, + For there's no art + Can shield a heart + From love's supremacy. + + Though in my nonage I have seen + A world of taking faces, + I had not age or wit to ken + Their several hidden graces. + + Those virtues which, though thinly set, + In others are admired, + In thee are altogether met, + Which make thee so desired. + + That though I never was in love, + Nor never meant to be, + Thyself and parts + Above my arts + Have drawn my heart to thee. + +Alexander Brome. + + + + +SPEAKING AND KISSING. + + + The air which thy smooth voice doth break, + Into my soul like lightning flies; + My life retires while thou dost speak, + And thy soft breath its room supplies. + + Lost in this pleasing ecstasy, + I join my trembling lips to thine, + And back receive that life from thee + Which I so gladly did resign. + + Forbear, Platonic fools! t' inquire + What numbers do the soul compose; + No harmony can life inspire + But that which from these accents flows. + +Thomas Stanley. + + + + +LADIES' CONQUERING EYES. + + + Ladies, though to your conquering eyes + Love owes its chiefest victories, + And borrows those bright arms from you + With which he does the world subdue; + Yet you yourselves are not above + The empire nor the griefs of love. + + Then rack not lovers with disdain, + Lest love on you revenge their pain: + You are not free because you're fair, + The Boy did not his mother spare: + Though beauty be a killing dart, + It is no armour for the heart. + +George Etherege. + + + + +DORINDA. + + + Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes, + United, cast too fierce a light, + Which blazes high, but quickly dies, + Pains not the heart, but hurts the sight. + + Love is a calmer, gentler joy, + Smooth are his looks and soft his pace; + Her Cupid is a blackguard boy + That runs his link full in your face. + +Charles Sackville. + + + + +CELIA AND SYLVIA. + + + Celia is cruel. Sylvia, thou, + I must confess art kind; + But in her cruelty, I vow, + I more repose can find. + For, oh! thy fancy at all games does fly, + Fond of address, and willing to comply. + + Thus he that loves must be undone, + Each way on rocks we fall; + Either you will be kind to none, + Or worse, be kind to all. + Vain are our hopes, and endless is our care; + We must be jealous, or we must despair. + +Robert Gould. + + + + +TRUE LOVE. + + + Love, when 'tis true, needs not the aid + Of sighs, nor aches, to make it known, + And to convince the cruellest maid, + Lovers should use their love alone. + + Into their very looks 'twill steal, + And he that most would hide his flame, + Does in that case his pain reveal: + Silence itself can love proclaim. + +Sir Charles Sedley. + + + + +TOO LATE! + + + Too late, alas! I must confess, + You need not arts to move me; + Such charms by nature you possess, + 'Twere madness not to love ye. + + Then spare a heart you may surprise, + And give my tongue the glory + To boast, though my unfaithful eyes + Betray a tender story. + +John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. + + + + +MY MISTRESS' HEART. + + + My dear mistress has a heart + Soft as those kind looks she gave me; + When with Love's resistless art, + And her eyes, she did enslave me. + But her constancy's so weak, + She's so wild and apt to wander; + That my jealous heart would break + Should we live one day asunder. + + Melting joys about her move, + Killing pleasures, wounding blisses; + She can dress her eyes in love, + And her lips can arm with kisses. + Angels listen when she speaks, + She's my delight, all mankind wonder; + But my jealous heart would break + Should we live one day asunder. + +John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. + + + + +CONSTANCY. + + + I cannot change, as others do, + Though you unjustly scorn; + Since the poor swain that sighs for you, + For you alone was born. + No, Phillis, no, your heart to move + A surer way I'll try; + And to revenge my slighted love, + Will still love on and die. + + When, killed with grief, Amyntas lies, + And you to mind shall call + The sighs that now unpitied rise, + The tears that vainly fall; + That welcome hour that ends his smart, + Will then begin your pain; + For such a faithful tender heart + Can never break in vain. + +John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. + + + + +MAN AND WOMAN. + + + Man is for woman made, + And woman made for man; + As the spur is for the jade, + As the scabbard for the blade, + As for liquor is the can, + So man's for woman made, + And woman made for man. + + As the sceptre to be sway'd, + As to night the serenade, + As for pudding is the pan, + As to cool us is the fan, + So man's for woman made, + And woman made for man. + +Peter Antony Motteux. + + + + +ACCEPT MY HEART. + + + Accept, my love, as true a heart + As ever lover gave: + 'Tis free, it vows, from any art, + And proud to be your slave. + + Then take it kindly, as 'twas meant, + And let the giver live, + Who, with it, would the world have sent + Had it been his to give. + + And, that Dorinda may not fear + I e'er will prove untrue, + My vow shall, ending with the year, + With it begin anew. + +Matthew Prior. + + + + +AN ANGELIC WOMAN. + + + Not an angel dwells above + Half so fair as her I love. + Heaven knows how she'll receive me: + If she smiles I'm blest indeed; + If she frowns I'm quickly freed; + Heaven knows she ne'er can grieve me. + + None can love her more than I, + Yet she ne'er shall make me die, + If my flame can never warm her: + Lasting beauty I'll adore, + I shall never love her more, + Cruelty will so deform her. + +Sir John Vanbrugh. + + + + +I SMILE AT LOVE. + + + I smile at Love, and all its arts, + The charming Cynthia cried: + Take heed, for Love has piercing darts, + A wounded swain replied. + Once free and blest as you are now, + I trifled with his charms, + I pointed at his little bow, + And sported with his arms, + Till urged too far, Revenge! he cries, + A fatal shaft he drew, + It took its passage through your eyes, + And to my heart it flew. + + To tear it thence I tried in vain; + To strive, I quickly found + Was only to increase the pain, + And to enlarge the wound. + Ah! much too well, I fear, you know + What pain I'm to endure, + Since what your eyes alone can do + Your heart alone can cure. + And that (grant Heaven, I may mistake!) + I doubt is doom'd to bear + A burden for another's sake, + Who ill rewards its care. + +Sir John Vanbrugh. + + + + +ADIEU L'AMOUR. + + + Here end my chains, and thraldom cease, + If not in joy, I'll live at least in peace; + Since for the pleasures of an hour, + We must endure an age of pain; + I'll be this abject thing no more, + Love, give me back my heart again. + + Despair tormented first my breast, + Now falsehood, a more cruel guest; + O! for the peace of human kind, + Make women longer true, or sooner kind: + With justice, or with mercy reign, + O Love! or give me back my heart again. + +George Granville. + + + + +SABINA WAKES. + + + See, see, she wakes! Sabina wakes! + And now the sun begins to rise; + Less glorious is the morn that breaks + From his bright beams, than her fair eyes. + + With light united, day they give, + But different fates ere night fulfil; + How many by his warmth will live! + How many will her coldness kill! + +William Congreve. + + + + +FALSE! OR INCONSTANCY. + + + False though she be to me and love, + I'll ne'er pursue revenge; + For still the charmer I approve, + Though I deplore her change. + + In hours of bliss we oft have met, + They could not always last; + And though the present I regret, + I'm grateful for the past. + +William Congreve. + + + + +LOVE AND HATE. + + + Why we love, and why we hate, + Is not granted us to know: + Random chance, or wilful fate, + Guides the shaft from Cupid's bow. + + If on me Zelinda frown, + Madness 'tis in me to grieve: + Since her will is not her own, + Why should I uneasy live? + + If I for Zelinda die, + Deaf to poor Mizella's cries, + Ask not me the reason why: + Seek the riddle in the skies. + +Ambrose Philips. + + + + +I LATELY VOWED. + + + I lately vow'd, but 'twas in haste, + That I no more would court + The joys that seem when they are past + As dull as they are short. + + I oft to hate my mistress swear, + But soon my weakness find; + I make my oaths when she's severe, + But break them when she's kind. + +John Oldmixon. + + + + +FEW HAPPY MATCHES. + + + Say, mighty Love, and teach my song + To whom thy sweetest joys belong, + And who the happy pairs + Whose yielding hearts, and joining hands, + Find blessings twisted with their bands + To soften all their cares. + + * * * * * + + Two kindest souls alone must meet, + 'Tis friendship makes the bondage sweet, + And feeds their mutual loves: + Bright Venus on her rolling throne + Is drawn by gentlest birds alone, + And Cupids yoke the doves. + +Dr. Isaac Watts. + + + + +DORINDA'S CONQUEST. + + + Fame of Dorinda's conquest brought + The God of Love her charms to view; + To wound th' unwary maid he thought, + But soon became her conquest too. + + He dropp'd half-drawn his feeble bow, + He look'd, he raved, and sighing pined; + And wish'd in vain he had been now, + As painters falsely draw him, blind. + + Disarm'd, he to his mother flies; + Help, Venus, help thy wretched son! + Who now will pay us sacrifice? + For Love himself's, alas! undone. + + To Cupid now no lover's prayer + Shall be address'd in suppliant sighs; + My darts are gone, but, oh! beware, + Fond mortals, of Dorinda's eyes! + +John Hughes. + + + + +LOVERS IN DISGUISE. + + + How bless'd are lovers in disguise! + Like gods, they see, + As I do thee, + Unseen by human eyes. + Exposed to view, + I'm hid from view, + I'm altered, yet the same: + The dark conceals me, + Love reveals me: + Love, which lights me by its flame. + + Were you not false, you would me know; + For though your eyes + Could not devise, + Your heart had told you so. + Your heart would beat + With eager heat, + And me by sympathy would find: + True love might see, + One changed like me, + False love is only blind. + +George Farquhar. + + + + +WHEN THY BEAUTY APPEARS. + + + When thy beauty appears + In its graces and airs, + All bright as an angel new dropt from the sky; + At a distance I gaze, and am aw'd by my fears, + So strangely you dazzle my eye! + + But then, without art, + Your kind thought you impart, + When your love runs in blushes through every vein; + When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in your heart, + Then I know you're a woman again. + + There's a passion and pride + In our sex, she replied, + And thus, might I gratify both, would I do: + Still an angel appear to each lover beside, + But still be a woman to you. + +Thomas Parnell. + + + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES. + + +Accept, my love, as true a heart. 124. + +Ah! I remember well (and how can I. 48. + +Ah! my sweet sweeting! 5. + +Amarantha, sweet and fair. 112. + +Amid my bale I bathe in bliss. 14. + +Amyntas, go! Thou art undone. 100. + +And wilt thou leave me thus? 2. + +Away with these self-loving lads. 24. + + +Celia is cruel. Sylvia, thou. 118. + +Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry. 91. + +Come live with me, and be my love. 50. + +Cupid and my Campaspe played. 26. + + +Dear, if you change, I'll never choose again. 95. + +Diaphenia, like the daffa-down-dilly. 46. + +Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes. 117. + +Drink to me only with thine eyes. 74. + +Dry those fair, those crystal eyes. 94. + + +Fain would I change that note. 102. + +False though she be to me and love. 129. + +Fame of Dorinda's conquest brought. 133. + +Farewell! my joy. 96. + +Faustina hath the fairest face. 66. + +Foolish love is only folly. 41. + + +Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. 92. + +Go, lovely Rose. 98. + + +Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings. 56. + +He that loves a rosy cheek. 88. + +He that loves and fears to try. 30. + +Help me to seek! For I lost it there. 1. + +Here end my chains, and thraldom cease, 127. + +How bless'd are lovers in disguise! 134. + +How long shall I pine for love? 81. + + +I cannot change, as others do. 122. + +I dare not ask a kiss. 93. + +I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair. 67. + +I have a mistress, for perfections rare. 99. + +I lately vow'd, but 'twas in haste. 131. + +I lov'd thee once, I'll love no more. 69. + +I pr'ythee send me back my heart. 106. + +I smile at Love, and all its arts. 126. + +I wonder what those lovers mean, who say. 110. + +If all the world and Love were young. 22. + +If women could be fair, and yet not fond. 11. + +In a maiden-time profess'd. 71. + +In petticoat of green. 78. + +In the merry month of May. 35. + +It is not Beauty I demand. 59. + +It was a beauty that I saw. 73. + + +Ladies, though to your conquering eyes. 116. + +Like to Diana in her summer weed. 39. + +Like to the clear in highest sphere. 32. + +Look, Delia, how we esteem the half-blown rose. 47. + +Love guards the roses of thy lips. 31. + +Love is a sickness full of woes. 49. + +Love me little, love me long. 101. + +Love me not for comely grace. 61. + +Love mistress is of many minds. 43. + +Love, that liveth and reigneth in my thought. 3. + +Love, when 'tis true, needs not the aid. 119. + + +Man is for woman made. 123. + +My dear mistress has a heart. 121. + +My girl, thou gazest much. 6. + +My Phyllis hath the morning sun. 16. + +My true-love hath my heart, and I have his. 27. + + +Naked Love did to thine eye. 111. + +Not an angel dwells above. 125. + +Now fie on foolish love, it not befits. 82. + +Now thou hast loved me one whole day. 75. + + +O gentle Love, ungentle for thy deed! 17. + +O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm. 77. + +Oh, what a plague is love! 64. + +Once I loved a maiden fair. 105. + +Over the mountains. 62. + + +Phylida was a fair maid. 12. + +Pretty twinkling starry eyes. 42. + + +Ring out your bells, let mourning shews be spread. 28. + +Rise, Lady Mistress! rise! 89. + + +Say, mighty Love, and teach my song. 132. + +See, see, she wakes! Sabina wakes! 128. + +Set me whereas the sun doth parch the green. 4. + +Shall I come, sweet Love, to thee. 37. + +Shall I like a hermit dwell. 18. + +Shall I, wasting in despair. 85. + +Shepherd, what's love? I pray thee tell! 20. + +Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more. 55. + +Since first I saw your face I resolved. 108. + +Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part. 53. + +Some asked me where the rubies grew. 90. + +Sweetest love, I do not go. 76. + + +Take, O, take those lips away. 79. + +Tell me, dearest, what is love? 80. + +The air which thy smooth voice doth break. 115. + +The lark now leaves his wat'ry nest. 97. + +There is a garden in her face. 38. + +Thou pretty bird, how do I see. 104. + +'Tis true I never was in love. 114. + +Too late, alas! I must confess. 120. + +Tune on my pipe the praises of my love. 83. + +Two lines shall teach you how. 8. + +Two lines shall tell the grief. 7. + + +Weep eyes, break heart! 72. + +Were I as base as is the lowly plain. 52. + +What shepherd can express. 9. + +When love, with unconfined wings. 113. + +When thy beauty appears. 135. + +Whence comes my love? O heart, disclose! 45. + +While that the sun with his beams hot. 57. + +Who is Sylvia? What is she. 54. + +Why so pale and wan, fond lover? 107. + +Why we love, and why we hate. 130. + +With fragrant flowers we strew the way. 34. + +Wonder not, though I am blind. 87. + + +Ye blushing Virgins happy are. 103. + + + + +INDEX OF AUTHORS. + + +Alexander, W., Earl of Stirling. 77. + +Anonymous. 5, 57, 59, 61, 62, 64, 66, 101, 105. + +Aytoun, Sir Robert. 67. + + +Beaumont, Francis. 80. + +Beaumont and Fletcher. 79. + +Breton, Richard. 35. + +Brome, Alexander. 114. + +Brooke, Lord. 24. + + +Campion, Thomas. 37. + +Carew, Thomas. 87. + +Congreve, William. 128. + +Constable, Henry. 46. + +Cowley, Abraham, 110. + + +Daniel, John. 104. + +Daniel, Samuel. 47. + +Davenant, Sir William. 97. + +Donne, Dr. John. 75. + +Dowland, John. 95. + +Drayton, Michael. 53. + +Drummond, William. 78. + +Dyer, Sir Edward. 16. + + +Etherege, Sir George. 116. + + +Farquhar, George. 134. + +Field, Nathaniel. 89. + +Fletcher, _see_ Beaumont and F. + + +Gascoigne, George. 14. + +Googe, Barnaby. 12. + +Gould, Robert. 118. + +Granville, George. 127. + +Greene, Robert. 39. + +Greville, Fulke, Lord Brooke. 24. + + +Habington, William. 103. + +Harrington, Sir John. 45. + +Herrick, Robert. 90. + +Howard, Henry, Earl of Surrey. 3. + +Hughes, John. 133. + +Hume, Capt. Tobias. 102. + + +Jonson, Ben. 73. + + +King, Bp. Henry. 94. + + +Lodge, Thomas. 31. + +Lovelace, Richard. 112. + +Lyly, John. 26. + + +Marlowe, Christopher. 50. + +Middleton, Thomas. 71. + +Motteux, Peter Anthony. 123. + + +Oldmixon, John. 131. + +Oxford, Earl of. 9. + + +Parnell, Thomas. 135. + +Peele, George. 17. + +Philips, Ambrose. 130. + +Prior, Matthew. 124. + + +Raleigh, Sir Walter. 18. + +Randolph, Thomas, 99. + +Rochester, Earl of. 120. + + +Sackville, Charles, Earl of Dorset. 117. + +Sedley, Sir Charles, 119. + +Shakespeare, William. 54. + +Sherburne, Sir Edmund. 111. + +Sidney, Sir Philip. 27. + +Southwell, Robert. 43. + +Stanley, Thomas. 115. + +Stirling, Earl of. 77. + +Suckling, Sir John. 106. + +Surrey, Earl of. 3. + +Sylvester, J. 52. + + +Turberville, George. 6. + + +Vanbrugh, Sir John. 125. + +Vaughan, Henry. 100. + +Vere, E., Earl of Oxford, 9. + + +Waller, Edmund. 98. + +Watson, Thomas. 34. + +Watts, Dr. Isaac. 132. + +Weelkes, Thomas. 96. + +Wilmot, John. 120. + +Wither, George. 85. + +Wootton, John. 83. + +Wyatt, Sir Thomas. 1. + +[Illustration] + +Chiswick Press: Charles Whittingham and Co. +Tooks Court, Chancery Lane, London. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tudor and Stuart Love Songs, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TUDOR AND STUART LOVE SONGS *** + +***** This file should be named 26398-8.txt or 26398-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/3/9/26398/ + +Produced by David Starner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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