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diff --git a/26398-h/26398-h.htm b/26398-h/26398-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6ae5d56 --- /dev/null +++ b/26398-h/26398-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4683 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tudor and Stuart Love Songs, by J. Potter Briscoe. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ + +<!-- + + body {margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + .frontend {text-align: center; font-size: 90%} + .super {vertical-align: super; font-size: 75%;} + .transnote {margin: 2em 5% 1em 5%; font-size: 90%; padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em; + border: solid 1px silver; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .heading {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left; + font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%; } + .author {display: block; margin-left: 10%; font-size: 90%;} + .comment {text-align: center; font-size: 90%;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + + hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + + img {border: 0;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + td {vertical-align: top;} + .indent {text-indent: 2em; text-align: left;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: 75%; + text-align: right;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .right {text-align: right;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i11 {display: block; margin-left: 11em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i14 {display: block; margin-left: 14em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +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 + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class='transnote'> +<h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3> + +<p>Small discrepancies in punctuation between the Table of Content and poem +titles have been retained.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>John Dowland's poem is titled "True till death" in the Table of +Contents, but is titled "Love's constancy" on page 95.</p> +</div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 257px;"> +<a href="images/fig001.jpg"><img src="images/fig001th.jpg" width="257" height="400" alt="" title="" /></a> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 253px;"> +<a href="images/fig002.jpg"><img src="images/fig002th.jpg" width="253" height="400" alt="TUDOR AND STUART LOVE SONGS +COLLECTED BY +J. POTTER BRISCOE" title="" /></a></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>TUDOR AND STUART LOVE SONGS</h1> + +<h3>SELECTED AND EDITED BY</h3> + +<h2>J. POTTER BRISCOE, F.R.S.L.</h2> + +<h4>Editor of "The Bibelots"</h4> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 119px;"> +<img src="images/fig003.jpg" width="119" height="120" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class='frontend'> +E. P. DUTTON AND CO.<br /> +31 W. 23<span class='super'>RD</span> STREET <br /> +NEW YORK</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> +<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2> + + +<p>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 +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span>contributions of this character.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p class='right'>J. P. B.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="toc"> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>Page</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503-1542).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The lost heart</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The lover's appeal</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_2">2</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1517?-1547).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A sonnet—"Love that liveth," etc.</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A vow to love faithfully</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Anon., <i>circa</i> 1530.</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>My sweet sweeting</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>George Turberville (1540?-1610?).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The lover to his lady</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Master George: his sonnet</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Turberville's answer and distich</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford (1550-1604).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The shepherd's commendation of his nymph</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A renunciation</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Barnaby Googe (?) (1535?-1594).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The complaint of Harpalus</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>George Gascoigne (1525-1577).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A strange passion of a lover</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir Edward Dyer ( -1607).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>To Phyllis, the fair shepherdess</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>George Peele (1558?-1596-1597?).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The enamoured shepherd</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir Walter Raleigh (1552?-1618).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>His love admits no rival</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The shepherd's description of love</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The shepherdess' reply</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke (1554-1628).</td><td align='right'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Love for love</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>John Lyly (1554?-1606).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Cupid and Campaspe: Apelles' song</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A ditty—"My true love," etc.</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Love is dead</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>He that loves</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thomas Lodge (1558?-1625).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Love's wantonness</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Rosaline</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thomas Watson (1557?-1592?).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The May Queen</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nicholas Breton (1545?-1626?).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Phillida and Corydon</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thomas Campion (<i>circa</i> 1619).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Shall I come, sweet love, to thee?</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Cherry-ripe</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Robert Greene (1560?-1592).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Fair Samela</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Kinds of love</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Love and beauty</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Robert Southwell (1561?-1595).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Love's servile lot</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir John Harrington (1561-1612).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The heart of stone</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Henry Constable (1561-1613).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A shepherd's song to his love</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Samuel Daniel (1562-1619).</td><td align='right'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Love now, for roses fade</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Early love</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Love is a sickness</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Christopher Marlowe (1564-1593).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The passionate shepherd to his love</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Joshua Sylvester (1563-1618).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Love's omnipresence</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Michael Drayton (1563-1631).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A parting, or Love's last chance</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>William Shakespeare (1564-1616).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Who is Silvia?</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Sigh no more, ladies</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A morning song for Imogen</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Anon. (<i>circa</i> 1564).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The unfaithful shepherdess</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Anon.</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>True loveliness</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A woman's reason</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Love will find out the way</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Phillida flouts me</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>In praise of two</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir Robert Aytoun (1570-1638).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>To his forsaken mistress</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>On women's inconstancy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thomas Middleton (1570?-1627).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The three states of women</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>My love and I must part</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ben Jonson (1573?-1637).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Perfect beauty</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>To Celia</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Dr. John Donne (1573-1631).</td><td align='right'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A woman's constancy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Sweetest love</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>William Alexander, Earl of Stirling (1567?-1640).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>To Aurora</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>William Drummond (1585-1649).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Phillis</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Beaumont and Fletcher (1584-1616; 1579-1625).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Take those lips away</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Francis Beaumont (1584-1616).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Tell me what is love</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Pining for love</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Fie on love</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>John Wootton (<i>circa</i> 1600).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Damœtas' praise of his Daphnis</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>George Wither (1588-1667).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Shall I, wasting in despair</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thomas Carew (1598?-1639?).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>To one who, when I praised my mistress' beauty, said I was blind</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>He that loves a rosy cheek</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nathaniel Field (1587- ).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Matin song</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Robert Herrick (1591-1674).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Cherry ripe</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Julia</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>To the virgins</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>To Electra</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bp. Henry King (1592-1669).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Dry those eyes</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>John Dowland (ed.) (1563?-1626?).</td><td align='right'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>True till death</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thomas Weelkes (ed.) (1597- ?).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Farewell, my joy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir William Davenant (1605-1606-1668).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The lark now leaves</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Edmund Waller (1606-1687).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Go, lovely rose!</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thomas Randolph (1605-1635).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>His mistress</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Henry Vaughan (1622-1695).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Chloris</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Anon. (<i>circa</i> 1610).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Love me little, love me long</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Capt. Tobias Hume (musical composer).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Fain would I change that note</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>William Habington.</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>To roses in Castara's breast</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>John Danyel (1604?-1625?).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Thou pretty bird</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Anon. (<i>temp.</i> James I.).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Once I lov'd a maiden fair</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir John Suckling (1609-1642).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>I pr'ythee send me back my heart</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Orsame's song—"Why so pale," etc.</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thomas Ford, composer (1607?-1648).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Since first I saw your face</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Abraham Cowley (1618-1667).</td><td align='right'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The given heart</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir Edward Sherburne (1618-1702).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Ice and fire</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Richard Lovelace (1618-1658).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Amarantha</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>To Althea, from prison</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Alexander Brome (1620-1666).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A mock song</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thomas Stanley (1625-1678).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Speaking and kissing</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir George Etherege (1635?-1691).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Ladies' conquering eyes</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset (1638-1706).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Dorinda</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Robert Gould ( -1709?).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Celia and Sylvia</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir Charles Sedley (1639?-1701).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>True love</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester (1647-1680).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Too late!</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>My mistress' heart</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Constancy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Peter Anthony Motteux (1660-1718).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Man and woman</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Matthew Prior (1664-1721).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Accept my heart</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir John Vanbrugh (1664-1726).</td><td align='right'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>An angelic woman</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>I smile at love</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>George Granville (1667-1735).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Adieu l'amour</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>William Congreve (1670-1729).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Sabina wakes</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Inconstancy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ambrose Philips (1675?-1709).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Love and hate</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>John Oldmixon (1673-1742).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>I lately vowed</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Dr. Isaac Watts (1674-1748).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Few happy matches</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>John Hughes (1677-1720).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Dorinda's conquest</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>George Farquhar (1678-1707).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Lovers in disguise</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thomas Parnell (1679-1718).</td><td align='right'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>When thy beauty appears</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h1>LOVE VERSES OF THE TUDOR & STUART PERIODS.</h1> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class='heading'>THE LOST HEART.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Help me to seek! For I lost it there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, if that ye have found it, ye that be here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seek to convey it secretly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Handle it soft and treat it tenderly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or else it will 'plain, and then appair.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But pray restore it mannerly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since that I do ask it thus honestly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For to lose it, it sitteth me near;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Help me to seek!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas, and is there no remedy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But have I thus lost it wilfully?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I-wis, it was a thing all too dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be bestowed, and wist not where!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was mine heart! I pray you heartily<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Help me to seek!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir Thomas Wyatt.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE LOVER'S APPEAL.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say nay! say nay! for shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To save thee from the blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all my grief and grame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say nay! say nay!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hath loved thee so long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wealth and woe among:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And is thy heart so strong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As for to leave me thus?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say nay! say nay!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hath given thee my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never for to depart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither for pain nor smart:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say nay! say nay!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And have no more pity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of him that loveth thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! thy cruelty!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say nay! say nay!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir Thomas Wyatt.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>A SONNET.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love, that liveth and reigneth in my thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That built his seat within my captive breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clad in the arms wherein with me he fought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft in my face he doth his banner rest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She that me taught to love and suffer pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My doubtful hope and eke my hot desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With shamefaced cloak to shadow and restrain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her smiling grace converteth straight to ire:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And coward Love then to the heart apace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taketh his flight, whereas he lurks and plains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His purpose lost, and dare not show his face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my lord's guilt, thus faultless, bide I pains:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet from my lord shall not my foot remove;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet is his death that takes his end by love!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>A VOW TO LOVE FAITHFULLY HOWSOEVER HE BE REWARDED.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Set me whereas the sun doth parch the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where his beams do not dissolve the ice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In temperate heat where he is felt and seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In presence pressed of people mad or wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set me in high, or yet in low degree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In longest night, or in the shortest day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In clearest sky, or where clouds thickest be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In lusty youth, or when my hairs are gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set me in heaven, in earth, or else in hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hill or dale, or in the foaming flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrall, or at large, alive whereso I dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sick, or in health, in evil fame or good:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hers will I be, and only with this thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content myself, although my chance be nought.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>MY SWEET SWEETING.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, my sweet sweeting!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My little pretty sweeting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sweeting will I love wherever I go:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She is so proper and pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full steadfast, stable, and demure,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There is none such, you may be sure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As my sweet sweeting.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In all this world, as thinketh me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is none so pleasant to my eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I am glad so oft to see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As my sweet sweeting.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I behold my sweeting sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her face, her hands, her mignon feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They seem to me there is none so sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As my sweet sweeting.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Anon., circa 1530.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE LOVER TO HIS LADY.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My girl, thou gazest much<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the golden skies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would <i>I</i> were Heaven! I would behold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thee then with all mine eyes!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>George Turberville.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>MASTER GEORGE: HIS SONNET OF THE PAINS OF LOVE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Two lines shall tell the grief<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That I by love sustain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I burn, I flame, I faint, I freeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of Hell I feel the pain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>George Turberville.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TURBERVILLE'S ANSWER AND DISTICH TO THE SAME.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Two lines shall teach you how<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To purchase love anew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let reason rule, where Love did reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And idle thoughts eschew.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>George Turberville.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE SHEPHERD'S COMMENDATION OF HIS NYMPH.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What shepherd can express<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The favour of her face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom, in this distress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do appeal for grace?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A thousand Cupids fly<br /></span> +<span class="i1">About her gentle eye;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From which each throws a dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That kindleth soft sweet fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within my sighing heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Possessed by desire:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No sweeter life I try<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than in her love to die!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lily in the field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That glories in his white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For pureness now must yield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And render up his right;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heaven pictured in her face<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Doth promise joy and grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Cynthia's silver light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beats on running streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compares not with her white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose hairs are all sunbeams:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So bright my Nymph doth shine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As day unto my eyne!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With this, there is a red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exceeds the damask-rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which in her cheeks is spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where every favour grows;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In sky there is no star,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But she surmounts it far.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Phœbus from the bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Thetis doth arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The morning, blushing red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fair carnation-wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He shows in my Nymph's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As Queen of every grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This pleasant lily-white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This taint of roseate red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Cynthia's silver light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This sweet fair Dea spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">These sunbeams in mine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">These beauties, make me die!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>A RENUNCIATION.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If women could be fair, and yet not fond,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or that their love were firm, not fickle still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would not marvel that they make men bond<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By service long to purchase their good will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when I see how frail those creatures are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I muse that men forget themselves so far.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To mark the choice they make, and how they change,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft from Phœbus they do flee to Pan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unsettled still, like haggards wild they range,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These gentle birds that fly from man to man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who would not scorn and shake them from the fist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let them fly, fair fools, which way they list?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet for disport we fawn and flatter both,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pass the time when nothing else can please,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And train them to our lure with subtle oath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, weary of their wiles, ourselves we ease;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then we say when we their fancy try,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To play with fools, O what a fool was I!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE COMPLAINT OF HARPALUS.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Phylida was a fair maid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fresh as any flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom Harpalus the herdman prayed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be his paramour.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Harpalus and eke Corin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were herdmen, both yfere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Phylida could twist and spin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thereto sing full clear.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Phylida was all too coy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Harpalus to win;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Corin was her only joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who forced her not a pin.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How often would she flowers twine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How often garlands make,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of cowslips and of columbine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all for Corin's sake!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Corin, he had hawks to lure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forcèd more the field;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lovers' law he took no cure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For once he was beguiled.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Harpalus prevailèd nought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His labour all was lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he was farthest from her thoughts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet he loved her most.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Therefore waxed he both pale and lean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dry as clot of clay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His flesh it was consumèd clean,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +<span class="i0">His colour gone away....<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His beasts he kept upon the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he sate in the dale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus, with sighs and sorrows shrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gan to tell his tale.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"O Harpalus,"—thus would he say—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Unhappiest under sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cause of thine unhappy day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By love was first begun!...<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O Cupid, grant this my request,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And do not stop thine ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she may feel within her breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pains of my despairs!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Corin that is careless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she may crave her fee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I have done in great distress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That loved her faithfully!" ...<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Barnaby Googe (?).</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>A STRANGE PASSION OF A LOVER.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amid my bale I bathe in bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I swim in Heaven, I sink in hell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I find amends for every miss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet my moan no tongue can tell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I live and love (what would you more?)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As never lover lived before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I laugh sometimes with little lust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So jest I oft and feel no joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine eye is builded all on trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet mistrust breeds mine annoy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I live and lack, I lack and have;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have and miss the thing I crave.<br /></span> +</div> +<hr style='width: 35%;' /> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then like the lark that passed the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heavy sleep with cares oppressed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet when she spies the pleasant light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sends sweet notes from out her breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sing I now because I think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How joys approach when sorrows shrink.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And as fair Philomene again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can watch and sing when others sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And taketh pleasure in her pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wray the woe that makes her weep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sing I now for to bewray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loathsome life I lead alway.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The which to thee, dear wench, I write,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou know'st my mirth but not my moan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pray God grant thee deep delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live in joys when I am gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot live; it will not be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I die to think to part from thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>George Gascoigne.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TO PHYLLIS, THE FAIR SHEPHERDESS.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My Phyllis hath the morning sun<br /></span> +<span class="i1">At first to look upon her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Phyllis hath morn-waking birds<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her rising still to honour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Phyllis hath prime feathered flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That smile when she treads on them:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Phyllis hath a gallant flock<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That leaps since she doth own them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Phyllis hath too hard a heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Alas, that she should have it!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It yields no mercy to desert<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor peace to those that crave it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet Sun, when thou look'st on,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pray her regard my moan!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet birds, when you sing to her,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To yield some pity woo her!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet flowers, that she treads on,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tell her, her beauty dreads one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if in life her love she'll not agree me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pray her before I die, she will come see me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir Edward Dyer.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE ENAMOURED SHEPHERD.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O gentle Love, ungentle for thy deed!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Thou mak'st my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i3">A bloody mark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With piercing shot to bleed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shoot soft, sweet Love! for fear thou shoot amiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">For fear too keen<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Thy arrows been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hit the heart where my Belovèd is.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Too fair that fortune were, nor never I<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Shall be so blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Among the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Love shall seize on her by sympathy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then since with Love my prayers bear no boot,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">This doth remain<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To cease my pain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I take the wound, and die at Venus' foot.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>George Peele.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>HIS LOVE ADMITS NO RIVAL.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall I like a hermit dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a rock, or in a cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calling home the smallest part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is missing of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bestow it where I may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet a rival every day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she undervalue me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What care I how fair she be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were her tresses angel gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If a stranger may be bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unrebuked, unafraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To convert them to a braid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with little more ado<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Work them into bracelets too?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the mine be grown so free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What care I how rich it be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were her hand as rich a prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As her hairs, or precious eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she lay them out to take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kisses, for good manners' sake:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let every lover skip<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her hand unto her lip;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she seem not chaste to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What care I how chaste she be?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No; she must be perfect snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In effect as well as show;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warming, but as snowballs do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not like fire, by burning too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when she by change hath got<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her heart a second lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then if others share with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell her, whate'er she be!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir Walter Raleigh.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE SHEPHERD'S DESCRIPTION OF LOVE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Shepherd, what's love? I pray thee tell!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is that fountain, and that well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where pleasure and repentance dwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is, perhaps, that passing bell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tolls us all to heaven or hell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this is love, as I heard tell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yet, what is love? good shepherd, saine!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a sunshine mix'd with rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a toothache, or like pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a game where none doth gain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lass saith No, and would full fain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this is love, as I hear saine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yet, shepherd, what is love, I pray?"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a "Yea," it is a "Nay,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pretty kind of sporting fray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a thing will soon away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, nymphs, take vantage while ye may,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this is love, as I hear say.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yet what is love? good shepherd, show!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thing that creeps, it cannot go,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A prize that passeth to and fro,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thing for one, a thing for moe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he that proves shall find it so;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, shepherd, this is love, I trow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir Walter Raleigh.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE SHEPHERDESS'S REPLY TO THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If all the world and Love were young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And truth in every shepherd's tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These pretty pleasures might me move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live with thee and be thy love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But time drives flocks from field to fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Philomel becometh dumb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rest complains of cares to come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flowers do fade, and wanton fields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wayward winter reckoning yields;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A honey tongue, a heart of gall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is fancy's spring: but sorrow's fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy bed of roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy cup, thy kirtle, and thy posies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In folly ripe, in reason rotten.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The belt of straw and ivy-buds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy coral clasps and amber studs,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All these in me no means can move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To come to thee, and be thy love.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What should we talk of dainties, then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of better meat than's fit for men?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are but vain: that's only good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which God hath bless'd and sent for food.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But could youth last, and love still breed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had joys no date, nor age no need;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then those delights my mind might move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live with thee, and be thy love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir Walter Raleigh.</p> + +<p class='comment'>[See "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love," page 50.]</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LOVE FOR LOVE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away with these self-loving lads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom Cupid's arrow never glads!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away, poor souls, that sigh and weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In love of them that lie and sleep!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For Cupid is a merry god,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And forceth none to kiss the rod.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet Cupid's shafts, like Destiny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do causeless good or ill decree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Desert is borne out of his bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reward upon his wing doth go:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What fools are they that have not known<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That Love likes no laws but his own!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My songs, they be of Cynthia's praise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wear her rings on holy days;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On every tree I write her name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every day I read the same:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where Honour Cupid's rival is,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There miracles are seen of his.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If Cynthia crave her ring of me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I blot her name out of the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If doubt do darken things held dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then "farewell nothing," once a year:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For many run, but one must win;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fools only hedge the cuckoo in.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The worth that worthiness should move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is love, which is the due of love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love as well the shepherd can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As can the mighty nobleman:—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sweet nymph, 'tis true, you worthy be;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet, without love, nought worth to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Fulke-Greville, Lord Brooke.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>CUPID AND MY CAMPASPE: APELLES' SONG.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cupid and my Campaspe played<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At cards for kisses: Cupid paid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stakes his quiver, bows and arrows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mother's doves and team of sparrows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loses them too; then down he throws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The coral of his lip, the rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Growing on 's cheek, but none knows how;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With these the crystal of his brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then the dimple of his chin—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All these did my Campaspe win.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last he set her both his eyes.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She won, and Cupid blind did rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Love, has she done this to thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shall, alas! become of me?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>John Lyly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>A DITTY.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By just exchange one to the other given:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There never was a better bargain driven:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His heart in me keeps him and me in one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He loves my heart, for once it was his own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cherish his because in me it bides:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir Philip Sidney.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LOVE IS DEAD.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ring out your bells, let mourning shews be spread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Love is dead:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">All Love is dead, infected<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With plague of deep disdain:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Worth, as nought worth, rejected,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Faith fair scorn doth gain.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">From so ungrateful fancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">From such a female franzy,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">From them that use men thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Good Lord, deliver us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weep, neighbours, weep; do you not hear it said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Love is dead?<br /></span> +<span class="i3">His death-bed, peacock's folly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His winding-sheet is shame;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">His will, false-seeming holy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His sole executor, blame.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">From so ungrateful fancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">From such a female franzy,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">From them that use men thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Good Lord, deliver us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let dirge be sung, and trentals rightly read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Love is dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Sir Wrong his tomb ordaineth<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +<span class="i0">My mistress' marble heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Which epitaph containeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Her eyes were once his dart</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">From so ungrateful fancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">From such a female franzy,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">From them that use men thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Good Lord, deliver us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas, I lie; rage hath this error bred;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love is not dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Love is not dead, but sleepeth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his unmatchèd mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Where she his counsel keepeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till due deserts she find:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Therefore from so vile fancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To call such wit a franzy,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Who Love can temper thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Good Lord, deliver us!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir Philip Sidney.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>HE THAT LOVES.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He that loves and fears to try,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Learns his mistress to deny.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth she chide thee? 'tis to show it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thy coldness makes her do it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is she silent, is she mute?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silence fully grants thy suit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth she pout and leave the room?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then she goes to bid thee come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is she sick? why then be sure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She invites thee to the cure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth she cross thy suit with "No"?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tush! she loves to hear thee woo.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth she call the faith of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In question? nay, she loves thee then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if e'er she makes a blot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's lost if that thou hit'st her not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He that after ten denials<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth attempt no further trials,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath no warrant to acquire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dainties of his chaste desire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir Philip Sidney.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LOVE'S WANTONNESS.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love guards the roses of thy lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And flies about them like a bee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I approach, he forward skips,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And if I kiss, he stingeth me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love in thine eyes doth build his bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sleeps within their pretty shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if I look, the boy will lower,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And from their orbs shoot shafts divine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love works thy heart within his fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And in my tears doth firm the same;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if I tempt, it will retire,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And of my plaints doth make a game.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, let me cull her choicest flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And pity me, and calm her eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then will I praise thy deity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if thou do not, Love, I'll truly serve her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Thomas Lodge.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>ROSALINE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like to the clear in highest sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all imperial glory shines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of selfsame colour is her hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether unfolded, or in twines:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resembling heaven by every wink;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Gods do fear whenas they glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I do tremble when I think<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heigh ho, would she were mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beautifies Aurora's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or like the silver crimson shroud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Phœbus' smiling looks doth grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lips are like two budded roses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within which bounds she balm encloses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apt to entice a deity:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heigh ho, would she were mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her neck is like a stately tower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Love himself imprison'd lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To watch for glances every hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her divine and sacred eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heigh ho, for Rosaline!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Her paps are centres of delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Nature moulds the dew of light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feed perfection with the same:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heigh ho, would she were mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With orient pearl, with ruby red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With marble white, with sapphire blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her body every way is fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet soft in touch and sweet in view:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature herself her shape admires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Gods are wounded in her sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love forsakes his heavenly fires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at her eyes his brand doth light:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heigh ho, would she were mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The absence of fair Rosaline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since for a fair there's fairer none,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor for her virtues so divine:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heigh ho, fair Rosaline;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were mine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Thomas Lodge.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE MAY QUEEN.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With fragrant flowers we strew the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make this our chief holiday;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For though this clime were blest of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet was it never proud before.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O beauteous Queen of second Troy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Accept of our unfeignèd joy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now th' air is sweeter than sweet balm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And satyrs dance about the palm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now earth, with verdure newly dight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gives perfect signs of her delight.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O beauteous Queen of second Troy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Accept of our unfeignèd joy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now birds recall new harmony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trees do whistle melody;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now everything that nature breeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth clad itself in pleasant weeds.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O beauteous Queen of second Troy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Accept of our unfeignèd joy!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Thomas Watson.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>PHILLIDA AND CORYDON.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the merry month of May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a morn by break of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a troop of damsels playing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forth I rode, forsooth, a-maying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When anon by a woodside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where as May was in his pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I espied, all alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Phillida and Corydon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Much ado there was, God wot!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would love, and she would not:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She said, never man was true:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He said, none was false to you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He said, he had loved her long:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She said, love should have no wrong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Corydon would kiss her then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She said, maids must kiss no men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till they do for good and all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then she made the shepherd call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the heavens to witness truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never loved a truer youth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus with many a pretty oath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, and nay, and faith and troth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as silly shepherds use<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they will not love abuse;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Love, which had been long deluded,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was with kisses sweet concluded:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Phillida with garlands gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was made the lady of the May.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Richard Breton.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>SHALL I COME, SWEET LOVE?</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall I come, sweet Love, to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When the evening beams are set?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I not excluded be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Will you find no feigned let?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me not, for pity, more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell the long hours at your door.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who can tell what thief or foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the covert of the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his prey will work my woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or through wicked foul despite?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So may I die unredrest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere my long love be possest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But to let such dangers pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which a lover's thoughts disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis enough in such a place<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To attend love's joys in vain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not mock me in thy bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While these cold nights freeze me dead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Thomas Campion.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>CHERRY-RIPE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a garden in her face<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where roses and white lilies blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heavenly paradise that place,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There cherries grow that none may buy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Those cherries fairly do enclose<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of orient pearl a double row,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which when her lovely laughter shows,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet them no peer nor prince may buy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her eyes like angels watch them still;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her brows like bended bows do stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All that approach with eye or hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These sacred cherries to come nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Thomas Campion.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>FAIR SAMELA.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like to Diana in her summer weed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye,<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Goes fair Samela;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When wash'd by Arethusa's fount they lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Is fair Samela;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As fair Aurora in her morning gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deck'd with the ruddy glister of her love,<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Is fair Samela;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like lovely Thetis on a calmèd day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whenas her brightness Neptune's fancy move,<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Shines fair Samela;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassy streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her teeth are pearl, the breasts are ivory<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Of fair Samela;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her cheeks, like rose and lily, yield forth gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her brows, bright arches fram'd of ebony;<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Thus fair Samela<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Passeth fair Venus in her bravest hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Juno in the show of majesty,<br /></span> +<span class="i11">(For she's Samela!)<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pallas in wit,—all three, if you well view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For beauty, wit, and matchless dignity<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Yield to Samela.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Robert Greene.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>KINDS OF LOVE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Foolish love is only folly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wanton love is too unholy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Greedy love is covetous;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Idle love is frivolous;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the gracious love is it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That doth prove the work of wit.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beauty but deceives the eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flattery leads the ear awry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wealth doth but enchant the wit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Want, the overthrow of it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While in Wisdom's worthy grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue sees the sweetest face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There hath Love found out his life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace without all thought of strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindness in Discretion's care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Truth, that clearly doth declare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faith doth in true fancy prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lust the excrements of Love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then in faith may fancy see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How my love may construèd be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How it grows and what it seeks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How it lives and what it likes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So in highest grace regard it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in lowest scorn discard it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Robert Greene.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LOVE AND BEAUTY.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pretty twinkling starry eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How did Nature first devise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such a sparkling in your sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to give Love such delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to make him like a fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Play with looks until he die?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sure ye were not made at first<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For such mischief to be curst;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to kill Affection's care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That doth only truth declare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where worth's wonders never wither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love and Beauty live together.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blessed eyes, then give your blessing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in passion's best expressing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love that only lives to grace ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May not suffer pride deface ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in gentle thought's directions<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Show the power of your perfections.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Robert Greene.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LOVE'S SERVILE LOT.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love mistress is of many minds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet few know whom they serve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They reckon least how little hope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their service doth deserve.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The will she robbeth from the wit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sense from reason's lore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is delightful in the rind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Corrupted in the core.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May never was the month of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For May is full of flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But rather April, wet by kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For love is full of showers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With soothing words inthrallèd souls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She chains in servile bands!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eye in silence hath a speech<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which eye best understands.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her little sweet hath many sours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Short hap, immortal harms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her loving looks are murdering darts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her songs bewitching charms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like winter rose, and summer ice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her joys are still untimely;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Before her hope, behind remorse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair first, in fine unseemly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Plough not the seas, sow not the sands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave off your idle pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seek other mistress for your minds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's service is in vain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Robert Southwell.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE HEART OF STONE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whence comes my love? O heart, disclose!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was from cheeks that shame the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From lips that spoil the ruby's praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From eyes that mock the diamond's blaze:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence comes my woe? as freely own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah me! 'twas from a heart like stone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The blushing cheek speaks modest mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lips befitting words most kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eye does tempt to love's desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seems to say, "'Tis Cupid's fire;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet all so fair but speak my moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since nought doth say the heart of stone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why thus, my love, so kind bespeak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet eye, sweet lip, sweet blushing cheek,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet not a heart to save my pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Venus, take thy gifts again!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make not so fair to cause our moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or make a heart that's like your own.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>John Harrington.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>A SHEPHERD'S SONG TO HIS LOVE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Diaphenia, like the daffa-down-dilly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White as the sun, fair as the lily,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heigh-ho, how I do love thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do love thee as my lambs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are belovèd of their dams:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How blest I were if thou would'st prove me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Diaphenia, like the spreading roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in thy sweets all sweets encloses,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fair sweet, how I do love thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do love thee as each flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loves the sun's life-giving power;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For, dead, thy breath to life might move me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Diaphenia, like to all things blessèd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all thy praises are expressèd,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dear joy, how I do love thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the birds do love the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the bees their careful king:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then, in requite, sweet virgin, love me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Henry Constable.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LOVE NOW, FOR ROSES FADE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look, Delia, how we esteem the half-blown rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The image of thy blush, and summer's honour!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst yet her tender bud doth undisclose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That full of beauty Time bestows upon her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sooner spreads her glory in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But straight her wide-blown pomp comes to decline;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She then is scorn'd, that late adorn'd the fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fade the roses of those cheeks of thine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No April can revive thy withered flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose springing grace adorns thy glory now:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swift speedy Time, feathered with flying hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dissolves the beauty of the fairest brow.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then do not thou such treasure waste in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But love now, whilst thou may'st be loved again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Samuel Daniel.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>EARLY LOVE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! I remember well (and how can I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But evermore remember well) when first<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our flame began, when scarce we knew what was<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flame we felt; when as we sat and sigh'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look'd upon each other, and conceived<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not what we ail'd—yet something we did ail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet were well, and yet we were not well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what was our disease we could not tell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then would we kiss, then sigh, then look; and thus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that first garden of our simpleness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We spent our childhood. But when years began<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To reap the fruit of knowledge, ah, how then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would she with graver looks, with sweet, stern brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Check my presumption and my forwardness;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet still would give me flowers, still would me show<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What she would have me, yet not have me know.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Samuel Daniel.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LOVE IS A SICKNESS.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love is a sickness full of woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All remedies refusing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A plant that most with cutting grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Most barren with best using.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Why so?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More we enjoy it, more it dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If not enjoyed, it sighing cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Heigh-ho!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love is a torment of the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A tempest everlasting;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Jove hath made it of a kind<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not well, nor full nor fasting.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Why so?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More we enjoy it, more it dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If not enjoyed, it sighing cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Heigh-ho!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Samuel Daniel.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come live with me, and be my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we will all the pleasures prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That valleys, groves, and hills, and fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woods or steepy mountain yields.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And we will sit upon the rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By shallow rivers, to whose falls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Melodious birds sing madrigals.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I will make thee beds of roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a thousand fragrant posies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cap of flowers, and a kirtle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A gown made of the finest wool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which from our pretty lambs we'll pull;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair lined slippers for the cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With buckles of the purest gold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A belt of straw and ivy buds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With coral clasps and amber studs:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if these pleasures may thee move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come live with me and be my love.<br /></span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The shepherd swains shall dance and sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thy delight each May morning.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If these delights thy mind may move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come live with me and be my love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Christopher Marlowe.</p> + +<p class='comment'>[See "The Shepherdess's Reply to The Passionate Pilgrim," page 22.]</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LOVE'S OMNIPRESENCE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were I as base as is the lowly plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet should the thoughts of me your humble swain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ascend to heaven, in honour of my Love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were I as high as heaven above the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you, my Love, as humble and as low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As are the deepest bottoms of the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereso'er you were, with you my love should go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love should shine on you like to the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look upon you with ten thousand eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till heaven wax'd blind, and till the world were done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whereso'er I am, below, or else above you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereso'er you are, my heart shall truly love you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>J. Sylvester.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>A PARTING; OR, LOVE'S LAST CHANCE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That thus so clearly I myself can free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And, when we meet at any time again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be it not seen in either of our brows<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That we one jot of former love retain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Innocence is closing up his eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From death to life thou mightst him yet recover.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Michael Drayton.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>WHO IS SILVIA?</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who is Silvia? What is she,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That all our swains commend her?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holy, fair, and wise is she:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The heavens such grace did lend her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she might admired be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is she kind as she is fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For beauty lives with kindness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love doth to her eyes repair<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To help him of his blindness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, being helped, inhabits there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then to Silvia let us sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That Silvia is excelling;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She excels each mortal thing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Upon the dull earth dwelling:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her let us garlands bring.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>William Shakespeare.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>SIGH NO MORE, LADIES.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Men were deceivers ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One foot in sea and one on shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To one thing constant never:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Then sigh not so,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">But let them go,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And be you blithe and bonny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Converting all your sounds of woe<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Into, Hey nonny, nonny.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing no more ditties, sing no moe<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of dumps so dull and heavy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fraud of men was ever so,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Since summer first was leafy.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Then sigh not so,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">But let them go,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And be you blithe and bonny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Converting all your sounds of woe<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Into, Hey nonny, nonny.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>William Shakespeare.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>A MORNING SONG FOR IMOGEN.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Phœbus 'gins arise';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His steeds to water at those springs<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On chalic'd flowers that lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And winking Mary-buds begin<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To ope their golden eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With everything that pretty is,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My lady sweet arise:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Arise, arise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>William Shakespeare.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE UNFAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While that the sun with his beams hot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorchèd the fruits in vale and mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Philon the shepherd, late forgot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sitting beside a crystal fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In shadow of a green oak tree<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Upon his pipe this song play'd he:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So long as I was in your sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was your heart, your soul, and treasure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burning in flames beyond all measure:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">—Three days endured your love to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And it was lost in other three!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Another Shepherd you did see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom your heart was soon enchainèd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full soon your love was leapt from me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full soon my place he had obtainèd.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Soon came a third, your love to win,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And we were out and he was in.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sure you have made me passing glad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you your mind so soon removèd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before that I the leisure had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To choose you for my best belovèd:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For all your love was past and done<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Two days before it was begun:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Anon., circa 1564.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TRUE LOVELINESS.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is not Beauty I demand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A crystal brow, the moon's despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the snow's daughter, a white hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor mermaid's yellow pride of hair:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell me not of your starry eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your lips that seem on roses fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your breasts, where Cupid tumbling lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor sleeps for kissing of his bed:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Hebe's in her ruddiest hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A breath that softer music speaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than summer winds a-wooing flowers,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These are but gauds: nay, what are lips?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Coral beneath the ocean-stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose brink when your adventurer slips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full oft he perisheth on them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And what are cheeks, but ensigns oft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wave hot youth to fields of blood?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did Helen's breast, though ne'er so soft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do Greece or Ilium any good?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Eyes can with baleful ardour burn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poison can breathe, that erst perfumed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's many a white hand holds an urn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lovers' hearts to dust consumed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For crystal brows there's nought within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are but empty cells for pride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He who the Siren's hair would win<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is mostly strangled in the tide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Give me, instead of Beauty's bust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tender heart, a loyal mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which with temptation I would trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet never link'd with error find,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One in whose gentle bosom I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could pour my secret heart of woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the care-burthen'd honey-fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hides his murmurs in the rose,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My earthly Comforter! whose love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So indefeasible might be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That when my spirit wonn'd above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hers could not stay, for sympathy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Anon.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>A WOMAN'S REASON.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love me not for comely grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my pleasing eye or face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor for any outward part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No! nor for my constant heart,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For these may fail, or turn to ill;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So thou and I shall sever:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love me well, but know not why.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So hast thou the same reason still<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To dote upon me ever!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Anon.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LOVE WILL FIND OUT THE WAY.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Over the mountains<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And over the waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the fountains<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And under the graves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under floods that are deepest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which Neptune obey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over rocks that are steepest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Love will find out the way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where there is no place<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For the glow-worm to lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where there is no space<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For receipt of a fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the midge dares not venture,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lest herself fast she lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If love come, he will enter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And soon find out his way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You may esteem him<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A child for his might;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or you may deem him<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A coward for his flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if she whom Love doth honour<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Be concealed from the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set a thousand guards upon her,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Love will find out the way.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some think to lose him<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By having him confin'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some do suppose him,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Poor thing, to be blind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if ne'er so close you wall him,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Do the best that you may;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blind Love, if so ye call him,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Will find out his way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You may train the eagle<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To stoop to your fist;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or you may inveigle<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Phœnix of the East;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lioness, you may move her<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To give o'er her prey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But you will never stop a lover—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He will find out his way.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Anon.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>PHILLIDA FLOUTS ME.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what a plague is love!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I cannot bear it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She will inconstant prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I greatly fear it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It so torments my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That my heart faileth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She wavers with the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As a ship saileth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Please her the best I may,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She looks another way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alack and well a-day!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Phillida flouts me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I often heard her say<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That she loved posies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the last month of May<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I gave her roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cowslips and gillyflow'rs<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the sweet lily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I got to deck the bow'rs<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of my dear Philly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She did them all disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And threw them back again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore, 'tis flat and plain<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Phillida flouts me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Which way soe'er I go,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She still torments me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whatsoe'er I do,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nothing contents me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fade, and pine away<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With grief and sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fall quite to decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like any shadow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since 'twill no better be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I'll bear it patiently;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet all the world may see<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Phillida flouts me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Circa 1610.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>IN PRAISE OF TWO.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Faustina hath the fairest face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Phillida the better grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Both have mine eye enriched:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This sings full sweetly with her voice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fingers make so sweet a noise:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Both have mine ear bewitched.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah me! sith Fates have so provided,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart, alas! must be divided.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Anon.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TO HIS FORSAKEN MISTRESS.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I might have gone near to love thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I not found the slightest prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That lips could speak, had power to move thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I can let thee now alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As worthy to be loved by none.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I do confess thou'rt sweet, but find<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy favours are but like the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That kisses everything it meets;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And since thou can with more than one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The morning rose that untouch'd stands,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Arm'd with her briars, how sweetly smells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her sweet no longer with her dwells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But scent and beauty both are gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leaves fall from her, one by one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such fate ere long will thee betide,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When thou hast handled been a while;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Like sere flowers to be thrown aside;—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I will sigh, while some will smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see thy love for more than one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath brought thee to be loved by none.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir Robert Aytoun.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>ON WOMAN'S INCONSTANCY.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I Lov'd thee once, I'll love no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thine be the grief as is the blame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art not what thou wert before,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What reason I should be the same?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He that can love unlov'd again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath better store of love than brain:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">God send me love my debts to pay,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While unthrifts fool their love away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nothing could have my love o'erthrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If thou hadst still continued mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, if thou hadst remain'd thy own,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I might perchance have yet been thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But thou thy freedom did recall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That if thou might elsewhere inthral;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And then how could I but disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A captive's captive to remain?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When new desires had conquer'd thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And chang'd the object of thy will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It had been lethargy in me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not constancy to love thee still.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yea it had been a sin to go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And prostitute affection so,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Since we are taught no prayers to say<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To such as must to others pray.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet do thou glory in thy choice,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy choice of his good fortune's boast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To see him gain what I have lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The height of my disdain shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To laugh at him, to blush for thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To love thee still, but go no more<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A-begging to a beggar's door.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir Robert Aytoun.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE THREE STATES OF WOMAN.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In a maiden-time profess'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then we say that life is bless'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tasting once the married life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then we only praise the wife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's but one state more to try,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which makes women laugh or cry—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Widow, widow: of these three<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The middle's best, and that give me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Thomas Middleton.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>MY LOVE AND I MUST PART.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weep eyes, break heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love and I must part.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cruel fates true love do soonest sever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, I shall see thee never, never, never!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, happy is the maid whose life takes end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere it knows parent's frown or loss of friend!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weep eyes, break heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love and I must part.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Thomas Middleton.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>PERFECT BEAUTY.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was a beauty that I saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So pure, so perfect, as the frame<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of all the universe was lame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that one figure, could I draw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or give least line of it a law!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A skein of silk without a knot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fair march made without a halt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A curious form without a fault,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A printed book without a blot,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All beauty, and without a spot!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Ben Jonson.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TO CELIA.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Drink to me only with thine eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I will pledge with mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or leave a kiss but in the cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I'll not look for wine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thirst that from the soul doth rise<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Doth ask a drink divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But might I of Jove's nectar sup,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I would not change for thine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sent thee late a rosy wreath,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not so much honouring thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As giving it a hope that there<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It could not withered be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou thereon didst only breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sent'st it back to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not of itself, but thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Ben Jonson.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>A WOMAN'S CONSTANCY.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now thou hast loved me one whole day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-morrow, when thou leav'st, what wilt thou say?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou then ante-date some new-made vow?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or say, that now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are not just those persons which we were?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, that oaths made in reverential fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Love and his wrath any may forswear?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or, as true deaths true marriages untie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So lovers' contracts, images of those,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bind but till Sleep, Death's image, them unloose?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or, your own end to justify<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For having purposed change and falsehood, you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can have no way but falsehood to be true?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain lunatic! Against these scapes I could<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dispute and conquer if I would;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I abstain to do;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, by to-morrow, I may think so too.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Dr. John Donne.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>SWEETEST LOVE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweetest love, I do not go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For weariness of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor in hope the world can show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fitter love for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But since that I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must die at last, 'tis best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus to use myself in jest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By feigned death to die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yester-night the sun went hence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet is here to-day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hath no desire nor sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor half so short a way:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then fear not me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But believe that I shall make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hastier journeys, since I take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More wings and spurs than he.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Dr. John Donne.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TO AURORA.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dost prejudge thy bliss, and spoil my rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then would'st thou melt the ice out of thy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy relenting heart would kindly warm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, if thy pride did not our joys control,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What world of loving wonders should'st thou see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if I saw thee once transform'd in me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in thy bosom I would pour my soul;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then all my thoughts should in thy visage shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if that aught mischanced thou should'st not moan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor bear the burthen of thy griefs alone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, I would have my share in what were thine:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And whilst we thus should make our sorrows one,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This happy harmony would make them none.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>W. Alexander, Earl of Stirling.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>PHILLIS.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In petticoat of green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hair about her eyne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Phillis, beneath an oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sat milking her fair flock.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mongst that sweet-strained moisture, rare delight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hand seem'd milk, in milk it was so white.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>William Drummond.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TAKE THOSE LIPS AWAY.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Take, O, take those lips away,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That so sweetly were forsworn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those eyes, the break of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lights that do mislead the morn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my kisses bring again, bring again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hide, O, hide those hills of snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which thy frozen bosom bears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On whose tops the pinks that grow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are of those that April wears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But first set my poor heart free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound in icy chains by thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Beaumont and Fletcher.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TELL ME, WHAT IS LOVE?</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell me, dearest, what is love?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis a lightning from above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis a boy they call Desire.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis a grave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gapes to have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those poor fools that long to prove.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell me more, are women true?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, some are, and some as you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some are willing, some are strange,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since you men first taught to change.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And till truth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be in both<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All shall love to love anew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell me more yet, can they grieve?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, and sicken sore, but live:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be wise and delay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you men are as wise as they.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then I see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faith will be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never till they both believe.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Francis Beaumont.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>PINING FOR LOVE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How long shall I pine for love?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How long shall I sue in vain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How long like the turtle-dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall I heartily thus complain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall the sails of my heart stand still?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall the grists of my hope be unground?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh fie, oh fie, oh fie,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Let the mill, let the mill go round.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Francis Beaumont.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>FIE ON LOVE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now fie on foolish love, it not befits<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or man or woman know it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love was not meant for people in their wits,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And they that fondly show it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betray the straw, and features in their brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shall have Bedlam for their pain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If simple love be such a curse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To marry is to make it ten times worse.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Francis Beaumont.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>DAMŒTAS' PRAISE OF HIS DAPHNIS.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tune on my pipe the praises of my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love fair and bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill earth with sound, and airy heavens above,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heavens Jove's delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With Daphnis' praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her tresses are like wires of beaten gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gold bright and sheen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Nisus' golden hair that Scylla poll'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scyll o'erseen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through Minos' love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her eyes like shining lamps in midst of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Night dark and dead:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or as the stars that give the seamen light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Light for to lead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their wandering ships.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amidst her cheeks the rose and lily strive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lily snow-white:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When their contést doth make their colour thrive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Colour too bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For shepherds' eyes.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her lips like scarlet of the finest dye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scarlet blood-red:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teeth white as snow, which on the hills do lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hills overspread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By winter's force.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her skin as soft as is the finest silk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Silk soft and fine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of colour like unto the whitest milk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Milk of the kine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Daphnis' herd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As swift of foot as is the pretty roe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Roe swift of pace:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When yelping hounds pursue her to and fro,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hounds fierce in chase<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To reave her life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cease to tell of any more compare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Compares too rude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Daphnis' deserts and beauty are too rare:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then here conclude<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair Daphnis' praise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>John Wootton.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>SHALL I, WASTING IN DESPAIR?</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall I, wasting in despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Die because a woman's fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or my cheeks make pale with care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Cause another's rosy are?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be she fairer than the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the flowery meads in May,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If she be not so to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What care I how fair she be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall my foolish heart be pined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Cause I see a woman kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a well-disposèd nature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joinèd with a lovely feature?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be she meeker, kinder, than<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turtle-dove or pelican,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If she be not so to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What care I how kind she be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall a woman's virtues move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me to perish for her love?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or her merit's value known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make me quite forget mine own?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be she with that goodness blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which may gain her name of Best;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If she seem not such to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What care I how good she be?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Cause her fortune seems too high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I play the fool and die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those that bear a noble mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where they want, of riches find.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think what with them they would do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who without them dare to woo:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And unless that mind I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What care I tho' great she be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great or good, or kind or fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will ne'er the more despair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she love me, this believe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will die ere she shall grieve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she slight me when I woo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can scorn and let her go;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For if she be not for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What care I for whom she be?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>George Wither.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TO ONE WHO, WHEN I PRAISED MY MISTRESS'S BEAUTY, SAID I WAS BLIND.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wonder not, though I am blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i11">For you must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark in your eyes, or in your mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i11">If, when you see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her face, you prove not blind like me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the powerful beams that fly<br /></span> +<span class="i11">From her eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those amorous sweets that lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scatter'd in each neighbouring part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find a passage to your heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then you'll confess your mortal sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too weak for such a glorious light:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if her graces you discover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You grow, like me, a dazzled lover;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if those beauties you not spy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then are you blinder far than I.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Thomas Carew.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>HE THAT LOVES A ROSY CHEEK</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He that loves a rosy cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or a coral lip admires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or from star-like eyes doth seek<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fuel to maintain his fires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As old Time makes these decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So his flames must waste away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But a smooth and steadfast mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Gentle thoughts and calm desires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearts with equal love combined,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Kindle never-dying fires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where these are not, I despise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Thomas Carew.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>MATIN SONG.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rise, Lady Mistress! rise!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The night hath tedious been;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sleep hath fallen into mine eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor slumbers made me sin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not she a saint, then, say!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought of whom keeps sin away?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rise, madam! rise, and give me light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whom darkness still will cover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ignorance, more dark than night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till thou smile on thy lover.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All want day till thy beauty rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the gray morn breaks from thine eyes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Nathaniel Field.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>JULIA.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some asked me where the rubies grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And nothing did I say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with my finger pointed to<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The lips of Julia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some asked how pearls did grow, and where;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then spake I to my girl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To part her lips and show me there<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The quarelets of pearl.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One asked me where the roses grew;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I bade him not go seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But forthwith bade my Julia show<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A bud in either cheek.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Robert Herrick.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>CHERRY RIPE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe," I cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Full and fair ones—come and buy;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If so be you ask me where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They do grow? I answer, "There,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where my Julia's lips do smile;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's the land, or cherry-isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose plantations fully show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the year where cherries grow!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Robert Herrick.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TO THE VIRGINS.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Old Time is still a-flying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this same flower that smiles to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To-morrow will be dying.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The higher he's a-getting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sooner will his race be run,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And nearer he's to setting.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That age is best which is the first,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When youth and blood are warmer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But being spent, the worse and worst<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Times still succeed the former.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then be not coy, but use your time,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And while ye may, go marry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For having lost but once your prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">You may for ever tarry.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Robert Herrick.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TO ELECTRA.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dare not ask a kiss;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I dare not beg a smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest having that or this,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I might grow proud the while.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No, no, the utmost share<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of my desire shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only to kiss that air<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That lately kissèd thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Robert Herrick.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>DRY THOSE EYES.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dry those fair, those crystal eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which like growing fountains rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drown their banks! Grief's sullen brooks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would better flow in furrow'd looks:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy lovely face was never meant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be the shore of discontent.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then clear those waterish stars again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which else portend a lasting rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest the clouds which settle there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prolong my winter all the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy example others make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In love with sorrow, for thy sake.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Dr. Henry King.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LOVE'S CONSTANCY.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear, if you change, I'll never choose again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet, if you shrink, I'll never think of love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair, if you fail, I'll judge all beauty vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wise, if too weak, more wits I'll never prove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear, sweet, fair, wise,—change, shrink, nor be not weak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, on my faith, my faith shall never break.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth with her flowers shall sooner heaven adorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven her bright stars through earth's dim globe shall move;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fire heat shall lose, and frosts of flames be born;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Air, made to shine, as black as hell shall prove:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth, heaven, fire, air, the world transformed shall view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere I prove false to faith, or strange to you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>John Dowland.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>FAREWELL, MY JOY.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell! my joy!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Adieu! my love and pleasure!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sport and toy<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We have no longer leisure.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fa la la!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell! adieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Until our next consorting!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet love, be true!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And thus we end our sporting.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fa la la!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Thomas Weelkes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE LARK NOW LEAVES HIS WAT'RY NEST.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lark now leaves his wat'ry nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And climbing, shakes his dewy wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He takes your window for the east,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And to implore your light, he sings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake, awake, the morn will never rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The merchant bows unto the seaman's star,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The ploughman from the sun his season takes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still the lover wonders what they are,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who look for day before his mistress wakes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake, awake, break through your veils of lawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir William Davenant.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>GO, LOVELY ROSE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go, lovely Rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell her that wastes her time and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That now she knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I resemble her to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet and fair she seems to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell her that's young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shuns to have her graces spied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That had'st thou sprung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In deserts where no men abide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou must have uncommended died.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Small is the worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of beauty from the light retired;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bid her come forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suffer herself to be desired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not blush so to be admired.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then die, that she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The common fate of all things rare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May read in thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How small a part of time they share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who are so wondrous sweet and fair!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Edmund Waller.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>HIS MISTRESS.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have a mistress, for perfections rare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every eye, but in my thoughts most fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like tapers on the altar shine her eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her breath is the perfume of sacrifice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wheresoe'er my fancy would begin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still her perfection lets religion in.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We sit and talk, and kiss away the hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As chastely as the morning dews kiss flowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I touch her, like my beads, with devout care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And come unto my courtship as my prayer.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Thomas Randolph.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>CHLORIS.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amyntas, go! Thou art undone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy faithful heart is crossed by fate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That love is better not begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where love is come to love too late.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet who that saw fair Chloris weep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such sacred dew, with such pure grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Durst think them feignèd tears, or seek<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For treason in an angel's face.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Henry Vaughan.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love me little, love me long,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is the burden of my song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love that is too hot and strong<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Burneth soon to waste;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still I would not have thee cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or backward, or too bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For love that lasteth till 'tis old<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fadeth not in haste.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Winter's cold, or summer's heat,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Autumn tempests on it beat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It can never know defeat,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Never can rebel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such the love that I would gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such love, I tell thee plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou must give or love in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So to thee farewell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Circa 1610.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>FAIN WOULD I CHANGE THAT NOTE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fain would I change that note<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which fond love hath charm'd me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long, long to sing by rote,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fancying that that harm'd me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet when this thought doth come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Love is the perfect sum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all delight,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have no other choice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Either for pen or voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sing or write.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Love, they wrong thee much<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That say thy sweet is bitter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thy rich fruit is such<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As nothing can be sweeter.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair house of joy and bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where truest pleasure is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do adore thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know thee what thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I serve thee with my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fall before thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Captain Tobias Hume.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TO ROSES IN CASTARA'S BREAST.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye blushing Virgins happy are<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the chaste Nunn'ry of her breasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he'd profane so chaste a fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whoe'er should call them Cupid's nests.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Transplanted thus how bright ye grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How rich a perfume do ye yield?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some close garden, cowslips so<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are sweeter than in th' open field.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In those white Cloisters live secure<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From the rude blasts of wanton breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each hour more innocent and pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till you shall wither into death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then that which living gave you room,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Your glorious sepulchre shall be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There wants no marble for a tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose breast hath marble been to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>William Habington.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THOU PRETTY BIRD.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou pretty bird, how do I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy silly state and mine agree!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou a prisoner art;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So is my heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou sing'st to her, and so do I address<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My music to her ear that's merciless;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But herein doth the difference lie,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou art graced; so am not I;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou singing livest, and I must singing die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>John Danyel.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>ONCE I LOV'D A MAIDEN FAIR.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Once I lov'd a maiden fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But she did deceive me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She with Venus might compare,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In my mind, believe me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was young, and among<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All our maids the sweetest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now I say, ah! well-a-day!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Brightest hopes are fleetest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I the wedding ring had got,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wedding clothes provided,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure the church would bind a knot<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ne'er to be divided:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Married we straight must be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She her vows had plighted;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vows, alas! as frail as glass:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All my hopes are blighted.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Maidens wav'ring and untrue,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Many a heart have broken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweetest lips the world e'er knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Falsest words have spoken.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fare thee well, faithless girl,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I'll not sorrow for thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once I held thee dear as pearl,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Now I do abhor thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Temp. Jas. I. (condensed by T. Oxenford).</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>I PR'YTHEE SEND ME BACK MY HEART.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I pr'ythee send me back my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Since I cannot have thine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if from yours you will not part,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Why then shouldst thou have mine?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet now I think on't, let it lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To find it were in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou'st a thief in either eye<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Would steal it back again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why should two hearts in one breast lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And yet not lodge together?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O love! where is thy sympathy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If thus our breasts you sever?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But love is such a mystery,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I cannot find it out;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when I think I'm best resolved,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I then am most in doubt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then farewell love, and farewell woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I will no longer pine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I'll believe I have her heart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As much as she hath mine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir John Suckling.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>ORSAMES' SONG.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why so pale and wan, fond lover?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prithee, why so pale?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will, when looking well can't move her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Looking ill prevail?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prithee, why so pale?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why so dull and mute, young sinner?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prithee, why so mute?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will, when speaking well can't win her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Saying nothing do't?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prithee, why so mute?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This cannot take her;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If of herself she will not love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nothing can make her:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The devil take her!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir John Suckling.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>SINCE FIRST I SAW YOUR FACE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since first I saw your face I resolved<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To honour and renown you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If now I be disdained<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I wish my heart had never known you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What! I that loved, and you that liked,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall we begin to wrangle?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, no, no, my heart is fast<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And cannot disentangle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun whose beams most glorious are,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rejecteth no beholder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And your sweet beauty past compare,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Made my poor eyes the bolder.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where beauty moves, and wit delights<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And signs of kindness bind me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, oh! there, where'er I go<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I leave my heart behind me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I admire or praise you too much,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That fault you may forgive me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or if my hands had strayed but a touch,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then justly might you leave me.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I asked you leave, you bade me love;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is't now a time to chide me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, no, no, I'll love you still,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What fortune e'er betide me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Circa 1617.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>THE GIVEN HEART.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I Wonder what those lovers mean, who say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They've given their hearts away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some good, kind lover, tell me how:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For mine is but a torment to me now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If so it be one place both hearts contain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what do they complain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What courtesy can Love do more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than to join hearts that parted were before?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Woe to her stubborn heart, if once mine come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the self-same room;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill tear and blow up all within<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a grenade shot into a magazine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then shall Love keep the ashes and torn parts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of both our broken hearts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall out of both one new one make,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From hers th' alloy, from mine the metal take.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For of her heart he from the flames will find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But little left behind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine only will remain entire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No dross was there to perish in the fire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Abraham Cowley.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>ICE AND FIRE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Naked Love did to thine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chloris, once to warm him, fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But its subtle flame, and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorch'd his wings, and spoiled his sight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forc'd from thence he went to rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the soft couch of thy breast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there met a frost so great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As his torch extinguish'd straight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When poor Cupid (thus constrain'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His cold bed to leave) complain'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"'Las! what lodging's here for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If all ice and fire she be."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir Edmund Sherburne.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>AMARANTHA.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amarantha, sweet and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forbear to braid that shining hair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As my curious hand or eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hovering round thee, let it fly:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let it fly as unconfined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As its ravisher the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who has left his darling east<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wanton o'er this spicy nest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Every tress must be confess'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But neatly tangled at the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a clew of golden thread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most excellently ravelled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do not then wind up that light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ribands, and o'ercloud the night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the sun in his early ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But shake your head and scatter day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Richard Lovelace.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TO ALTHEA, FROM PRISON.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When love, with unconfined wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hovers within my gates,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my divine Althea brings<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To whisper at the grates;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I lie tangled in her hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And fetter'd to her eye—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birds that wanton in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Know no such liberty.<br /></span> +</div> +<hr style='width: 35%;' /> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stone walls do not a prison make,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor iron bars a cage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Minds innocent and quiet take<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That for an hermitage.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I have freedom in my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And in my soul am free,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angels alone, that soar above,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Enjoy such liberty.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Richard Lovelace.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>A MOCK SONG.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tis true I never was in love:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But now I mean to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">For there's no art<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Can shield a heart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From love's supremacy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though in my nonage I have seen<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A world of taking faces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had not age or wit to ken<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their several hidden graces.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Those virtues which, though thinly set,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In others are admired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thee are altogether met,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which make thee so desired.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That though I never was in love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor never meant to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Thyself and parts<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Above my arts<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Have drawn my heart to thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Alexander Brome.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>SPEAKING AND KISSING.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The air which thy smooth voice doth break,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Into my soul like lightning flies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life retires while thou dost speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And thy soft breath its room supplies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lost in this pleasing ecstasy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I join my trembling lips to thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And back receive that life from thee<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which I so gladly did resign.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forbear, Platonic fools! t' inquire<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What numbers do the soul compose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No harmony can life inspire<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But that which from these accents flows.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Thomas Stanley.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LADIES' CONQUERING EYES.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ladies, though to your conquering eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love owes its chiefest victories,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And borrows those bright arms from you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which he does the world subdue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet you yourselves are not above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The empire nor the griefs of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then rack not lovers with disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest love on you revenge their pain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are not free because you're fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Boy did not his mother spare:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though beauty be a killing dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is no armour for the heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>George Etherege.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>DORINDA.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">United, cast too fierce a light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which blazes high, but quickly dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pains not the heart, but hurts the sight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love is a calmer, gentler joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Smooth are his looks and soft his pace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her Cupid is a blackguard boy<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That runs his link full in your face.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Charles Sackville.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>CELIA AND SYLVIA.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Celia is cruel. Sylvia, thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I must confess art kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in her cruelty, I vow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I more repose can find.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, oh! thy fancy at all games does fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fond of address, and willing to comply.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus he that loves must be undone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Each way on rocks we fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Either you will be kind to none,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or worse, be kind to all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain are our hopes, and endless is our care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must be jealous, or we must despair.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Robert Gould.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TRUE LOVE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love, when 'tis true, needs not the aid<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of sighs, nor aches, to make it known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to convince the cruellest maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lovers should use their love alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Into their very looks 'twill steal,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And he that most would hide his flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does in that case his pain reveal:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Silence itself can love proclaim.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir Charles Sedley.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>TOO LATE!</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Too late, alas! I must confess,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">You need not arts to move me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such charms by nature you possess,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'Twere madness not to love ye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then spare a heart you may surprise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And give my tongue the glory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To boast, though my unfaithful eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Betray a tender story.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>MY MISTRESS' HEART.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My dear mistress has a heart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Soft as those kind looks she gave me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When with Love's resistless art,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And her eyes, she did enslave me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But her constancy's so weak,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She's so wild and apt to wander;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my jealous heart would break<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Should we live one day asunder.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Melting joys about her move,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Killing pleasures, wounding blisses;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She can dress her eyes in love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And her lips can arm with kisses.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angels listen when she speaks,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She's my delight, all mankind wonder;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my jealous heart would break<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Should we live one day asunder.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>CONSTANCY.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I cannot change, as others do,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though you unjustly scorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the poor swain that sighs for you,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For you alone was born.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, Phillis, no, your heart to move<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A surer way I'll try;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to revenge my slighted love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Will still love on and die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When, killed with grief, Amyntas lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And you to mind shall call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sighs that now unpitied rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The tears that vainly fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That welcome hour that ends his smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Will then begin your pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For such a faithful tender heart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Can never break in vain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>MAN AND WOMAN.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Man is for woman made,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And woman made for man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the spur is for the jade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the scabbard for the blade,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As for liquor is the can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So man's for woman made,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And woman made for man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As the sceptre to be sway'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to night the serenade,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As for pudding is the pan,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As to cool us is the fan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So man's for woman made,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And woman made for man.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Peter Antony Motteux.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>ACCEPT MY HEART.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Accept, my love, as true a heart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As ever lover gave:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis free, it vows, from any art,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And proud to be your slave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then take it kindly, as 'twas meant,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And let the giver live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, with it, would the world have sent<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Had it been his to give.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, that Dorinda may not fear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I e'er will prove untrue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My vow shall, ending with the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With it begin anew.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Matthew Prior.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>AN ANGELIC WOMAN.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not an angel dwells above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half so fair as her I love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven knows how she'll receive me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she smiles I'm blest indeed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If she frowns I'm quickly freed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven knows she ne'er can grieve me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">None can love her more than I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet she ne'er shall make me die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If my flame can never warm her:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lasting beauty I'll adore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall never love her more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cruelty will so deform her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir John Vanbrugh.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>I SMILE AT LOVE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I smile at Love, and all its arts,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The charming Cynthia cried:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take heed, for Love has piercing darts,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A wounded swain replied.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once free and blest as you are now,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I trifled with his charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pointed at his little bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sported with his arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till urged too far, Revenge! he cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A fatal shaft he drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It took its passage through your eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And to my heart it flew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To tear it thence I tried in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To strive, I quickly found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was only to increase the pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And to enlarge the wound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! much too well, I fear, you know<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What pain I'm to endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since what your eyes alone can do<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Your heart alone can cure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that (grant Heaven, I may mistake!)<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I doubt is doom'd to bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A burden for another's sake,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who ill rewards its care.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Sir John Vanbrugh.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>ADIEU L'AMOUR.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here end my chains, and thraldom cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If not in joy, I'll live at least in peace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since for the pleasures of an hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must endure an age of pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll be this abject thing no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, give me back my heart again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Despair tormented first my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now falsehood, a more cruel guest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! for the peace of human kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make women longer true, or sooner kind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With justice, or with mercy reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Love! or give me back my heart again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>George Granville.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>SABINA WAKES.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See, see, she wakes! Sabina wakes!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And now the sun begins to rise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less glorious is the morn that breaks<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From his bright beams, than her fair eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With light united, day they give,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But different fates ere night fulfil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many by his warmth will live!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How many will her coldness kill!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>William Congreve.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>FALSE! OR INCONSTANCY.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">False though she be to me and love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I'll ne'er pursue revenge;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For still the charmer I approve,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though I deplore her change.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In hours of bliss we oft have met,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They could not always last;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though the present I regret,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I'm grateful for the past.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>William Congreve.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LOVE AND HATE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why we love, and why we hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is not granted us to know:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Random chance, or wilful fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Guides the shaft from Cupid's bow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If on me Zelinda frown,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Madness 'tis in me to grieve:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since her will is not her own,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Why should I uneasy live?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I for Zelinda die,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Deaf to poor Mizella's cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask not me the reason why:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seek the riddle in the skies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Ambrose Philips.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>I LATELY VOWED.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I lately vow'd, but 'twas in haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That I no more would court<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The joys that seem when they are past<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As dull as they are short.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I oft to hate my mistress swear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But soon my weakness find;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I make my oaths when she's severe,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But break them when she's kind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>John Oldmixon.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>FEW HAPPY MATCHES.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Say, mighty Love, and teach my song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom thy sweetest joys belong,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And who the happy pairs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose yielding hearts, and joining hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find blessings twisted with their bands<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To soften all their cares.<br /></span> +</div> +<hr style='width: 35%;' /> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Two kindest souls alone must meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis friendship makes the bondage sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And feeds their mutual loves:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright Venus on her rolling throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is drawn by gentlest birds alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Cupids yoke the doves.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Dr. Isaac Watts.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>DORINDA'S CONQUEST.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fame of Dorinda's conquest brought<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The God of Love her charms to view;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wound th' unwary maid he thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But soon became her conquest too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He dropp'd half-drawn his feeble bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He look'd, he raved, and sighing pined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wish'd in vain he had been now,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As painters falsely draw him, blind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Disarm'd, he to his mother flies;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Help, Venus, help thy wretched son!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who now will pay us sacrifice?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For Love himself's, alas! undone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To Cupid now no lover's prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall be address'd in suppliant sighs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My darts are gone, but, oh! beware,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fond mortals, of Dorinda's eyes!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>John Hughes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>LOVERS IN DISGUISE.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How bless'd are lovers in disguise!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like gods, they see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As I do thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unseen by human eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Exposed to view,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'm hid from view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm altered, yet the same:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dark conceals me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love reveals me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, which lights me by its flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were you not false, you would me know;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For though your eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could not devise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your heart had told you so.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your heart would beat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With eager heat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And me by sympathy would find:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">True love might see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One changed like me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">False love is only blind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>George Farquhar.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> +<p class='heading'>WHEN THY BEAUTY APPEARS.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When thy beauty appears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its graces and airs,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All bright as an angel new dropt from the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At a distance I gaze, and am aw'd by my fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So strangely you dazzle my eye!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But then, without art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your kind thought you impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When your love runs in blushes through every vein;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in your heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then I know you're a woman again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's a passion and pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In our sex, she replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And thus, might I gratify both, would I do:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still an angel appear to each lover beside,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But still be a woman to you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class='author'>Thomas Parnell.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> +<h2>INDEX OF FIRST LINES.</h2> + + +<p> +Accept, my love, as true a heart. <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ah! I remember well (and how can I. <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ah! my sweet sweeting! <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Amarantha, sweet and fair. <a href="#Page_112">112</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Amid my bale I bathe in bliss. <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Amyntas, go! Thou art undone. <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.<br /> +<br /> +And wilt thou leave me thus? <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Away with these self-loving lads. <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Celia is cruel. Sylvia, thou. <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry. <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Come live with me, and be my love. <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cupid and my Campaspe played. <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Dear, if you change, I'll never choose again. <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Diaphenia, like the daffa-down-dilly. <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes. <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Drink to me only with thine eyes. <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dry those fair, those crystal eyes. <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Fain would I change that note. <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.<br /> +<br /> +False though she be to me and love. <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fame of Dorinda's conquest brought. <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Farewell! my joy. <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Faustina hath the fairest face. <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Foolish love is only folly. <a href="#Page_41">41</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Go, lovely Rose. <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings. <a href="#Page_56">56</a>.<br /> +<br /> +He that loves a rosy cheek. <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.<br /> +<br /> +He that loves and fears to try. <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Help me to seek! For I lost it there. <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>Here end my chains, and thraldom cease, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.<br /> +<br /> +How bless'd are lovers in disguise! <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.<br /> +<br /> +How long shall I pine for love? <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +I cannot change, as others do. <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.<br /> +<br /> +I dare not ask a kiss. <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.<br /> +<br /> +I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair. <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.<br /> +<br /> +I have a mistress, for perfections rare. <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.<br /> +<br /> +I lately vow'd, but 'twas in haste. <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.<br /> +<br /> +I lov'd thee once, I'll love no more. <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.<br /> +<br /> +I pr'ythee send me back my heart. <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.<br /> +<br /> +I smile at Love, and all its arts. <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.<br /> +<br /> +I wonder what those lovers mean, who say. <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.<br /> +<br /> +If all the world and Love were young. <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.<br /> +<br /> +If women could be fair, and yet not fond. <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.<br /> +<br /> +In a maiden-time profess'd. <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.<br /> +<br /> +In petticoat of green. <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.<br /> +<br /> +In the merry month of May. <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.<br /> +<br /> +It is not Beauty I demand. <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.<br /> +<br /> +It was a beauty that I saw. <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Ladies, though to your conquering eyes. <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Like to Diana in her summer weed. <a href="#Page_39">39</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Like to the clear in highest sphere. <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Look, Delia, how we esteem the half-blown rose. <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Love guards the roses of thy lips. <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Love is a sickness full of woes. <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Love me little, love me long. <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Love me not for comely grace. <a href="#Page_61">61</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Love mistress is of many minds. <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Love, that liveth and reigneth in my thought. <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Love, when 'tis true, needs not the aid. <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Man is for woman made. <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.<br /> +<br /> +My dear mistress has a heart. <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>My girl, thou gazest much. <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.<br /> +<br /> +My Phyllis hath the morning sun. <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.<br /> +<br /> +My true-love hath my heart, and I have his. <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Naked Love did to thine eye. <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Not an angel dwells above. <a href="#Page_125">125</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Now fie on foolish love, it not befits. <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Now thou hast loved me one whole day. <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +O gentle Love, ungentle for thy deed! <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.<br /> +<br /> +O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm. <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Oh, what a plague is love! <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Once I loved a maiden fair. <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Over the mountains. <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Phylida was a fair maid. <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pretty twinkling starry eyes. <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Ring out your bells, let mourning shews be spread. <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rise, Lady Mistress! rise! <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Say, mighty Love, and teach my song. <a href="#Page_132">132</a>.<br /> +<br /> +See, see, she wakes! Sabina wakes! <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Set me whereas the sun doth parch the green. <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shall I come, sweet Love, to thee. <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shall I like a hermit dwell. <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shall I, wasting in despair. <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shepherd, what's love? I pray thee tell! <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more. <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Since first I saw your face I resolved. <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part. <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Some asked me where the rubies grew. <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sweetest love, I do not go. <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Take, O, take those lips away. <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tell me, dearest, what is love? <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>The air which thy smooth voice doth break. <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.<br /> +<br /> +The lark now leaves his wat'ry nest. <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.<br /> +<br /> +There is a garden in her face. <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thou pretty bird, how do I see. <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +'Tis true I never was in love. <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Too late, alas! I must confess. <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tune on my pipe the praises of my love. <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Two lines shall teach you how. <a href="#Page_8">8</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Two lines shall tell the grief. <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Weep eyes, break heart! <a href="#Page_72">72</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Were I as base as is the lowly plain. <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.<br /> +<br /> +What shepherd can express. <a href="#Page_9">9</a>.<br /> +<br /> +When love, with unconfined wings. <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.<br /> +<br /> +When thy beauty appears. <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whence comes my love? O heart, disclose! <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.<br /> +<br /> +While that the sun with his beams hot. <a href="#Page_57">57</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Who is Sylvia? What is she. <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Why so pale and wan, fond lover? <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Why we love, and why we hate. <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.<br /> +<br /> +With fragrant flowers we strew the way. <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wonder not, though I am blind. <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Ye blushing Virgins happy are. <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> +<h2>INDEX OF AUTHORS.</h2> + + +<p> +Alexander, W., Earl of Stirling. <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Anonymous. <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, +<a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, +<a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, +<a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, +<a href="#Page_105">105</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Aytoun, Sir Robert. <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Beaumont, Francis. <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Beaumont and Fletcher. <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Breton, Richard. <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Brome, Alexander. <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Brooke, Lord. <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Campion, Thomas. <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Carew, Thomas. <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Congreve, William. <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Constable, Henry. <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cowley, Abraham, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Daniel, John. <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Daniel, Samuel. <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Davenant, Sir William. <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Donne, Dr. John. <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dowland, John. <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Drayton, Michael. <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Drummond, William. <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dyer, Sir Edward. <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Etherege, Sir George. <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Farquhar, George. <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Field, Nathaniel. <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fletcher, <i>see</i> Beaumont and F.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Gascoigne, George. <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Googe, Barnaby. <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gould, Robert. <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Granville, George. <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Greene, Robert. <a href="#Page_39">39</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Greville, Fulke, Lord Brooke. <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Habington, William. <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Harrington, Sir John. <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Herrick, Robert. <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Howard, Henry, Earl of Surrey. <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hughes, John. <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hume, Capt. Tobias. <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Jonson, Ben. <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +King, Bp. Henry. <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Lodge, Thomas. <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lovelace, Richard. <a href="#Page_112">112</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lyly, John. <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Marlowe, Christopher. <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Middleton, Thomas. <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Motteux, Peter Anthony. <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Oldmixon, John. <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Oxford, Earl of. <a href="#Page_9">9</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Parnell, Thomas. <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Peele, George. <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Philips, Ambrose. <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Prior, Matthew. <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Raleigh, Sir Walter. <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Randolph, Thomas, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rochester, Earl of. <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +Sackville, Charles, Earl of Dorset. <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sedley, Sir Charles, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shakespeare, William. <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sherburne, Sir Edmund. <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sidney, Sir Philip. <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Southwell, Robert. <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stanley, Thomas. <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stirling, Earl of. <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Suckling, Sir John. <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Surrey, Earl of. <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sylvester, J. <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Turberville, George. <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Vanbrugh, Sir John. <a href="#Page_125">125</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Vaughan, Henry. <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Vere, E., Earl of Oxford, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Waller, Edmund. <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Watson, Thomas. <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Watts, Dr. Isaac. <a href="#Page_132">132</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Weelkes, Thomas. <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wilmot, John. <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wither, George. <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wootton, John. <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wyatt, Sir Thomas. <a href="#Page_1">1</a>. +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 128px;"> +<img src="images/fig004.jpg" width="128" height="150" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class='center'>Chiswick Press: Charles Whittingham and Co.<br /> +Tooks Court, Chancery Lane, London.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tudor and Stuart Love Songs, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TUDOR AND STUART LOVE SONGS *** + +***** This file should be named 26398-h.htm or 26398-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/3/9/26398/ + +Produced by David Starner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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