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+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
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