are come downe vpon earth to liue But harken to the Song Glory to glories King And peace all men among These Queristers doe sing Angels they are as also Shepheards hee Whom in our feare we doe admire to see Let not amazement blinde Your soules said he annoy To you and all mankinde My message bringeth ioy For loe the worlds great Shepheard now is borne A blessed Babe an Infant full of power After long night vp-risen is the morne Renowning Bethlem in the Sauiour Sprung is the perfect day By Prophets seene a farre Sprung is the mirthfull May Which Winter cannot marre In Dauids Citie doth this Sunne appeare Clouded in flesh yet Shepheards sit we here FINIS E. B. ¶ Arsileus his Caroll for ioy of the new mariage betweene Syrenus and Diana LEt now each Meade with flowers be depainted Of sundry colours sweetest odours glowing Roses yeeld forth your smels so finely tainted Calme windes the greene leaues moue with gentle blowing The Christall Riuers flowing With waters be encreased And since each one from sorrow now hath ceased gladnes From mournfull plaints and sadnes Ring forth faire Nimphs your ioyfull Songs for Let Springs and Meades all kinde of sorrow banish And mournfull harts the teares that they are bleeding Let gloomie cloudes with shining morning vanish Let euery bird reioyce that now is breeding And since by new proceeding With mariage now obtained A great content by great contempt is gained gladnes And you deuoyd of sadnes Ring forth faire Nimphs your ioyfull Songs for Who can make vs to change our firme desires And soule to leaue her strong determination And make vs freeze in Ice and melt in fires And nicest hearts to loue with emulation Who rids vs from vexation And all our minds commandeth But great Felicia that his might withstandeth gladnes That fill'd our hearts with sadnes Ring forth faire Nimphs your ioyfull Songs for Your fields with their distilling fauours cumber Bridegroome and happy Bride each heauenly power Your Flocks with double Lambs encreas'd in number May neuer tast vnsauorie grasse and sower The Winters frost and shower Your Kids your pretie pleasure May neuer hurt and blest with so much treasure To driue away all sadnes Ring forth faire Nimphs your ioyfull Songs for gladnes Of that sweet ioy delight you with such measure Betweene you both faiâ—e issue to ingender Longer then Nestor may you liue in pleasure The Gods to you such sweet content surrender That may make mild and tender The beasts in euery mountaine And glad the fields and Woods and euery Fountaine Abiuring former sadnes Ring forth faire Nimphs your ioyfull Songs for gladnes Let amorous birds with sweetest notes delight you Let gentle windes refresh you with their blowing Let fields and Forrests with their good requite you And Flora decke the ground where you are going Roses and Violets strowing The Iasmine and the Gilliflower With many more and neuer in your bower To tast of houshold sadnes Ring forth faire Nimphs your ioyfull Songs for gladnes Concord and peace hold you for aye contented And in your ioyfull state liue you so quiet That with the plague of iealousie tormented You may not be nor fed with Fortunes diet And that your names may flie yet To hills vnknowne with glorie But now because my breast so hoarce and sorrie It faints may rest from singing End Nimphs your Songs that in the clouds are ringing FINIS Bar. Yong. ¶ Philistus farewell to false Clorinda CLorinda false adiew thy loue torments me Let Thirsis haue thy heart since he contents thee Oh griefe and bitter anguish For thee I languish Faine I alas would hide it Oh but who can abide it I can I cannot I abide it Adiew adiew then Farewell Leaue my death now desiring For thou hast thy requiring Thus spake Philistus on his hooke relying And sweetly fell a dying FINIS Out of M. Morleys Madrigalls ¶ Rosalindes Madrigall LOue in my bosome like a Bee doth sucke his sweet Now with his wings he playes with me now with his feete Within mine eyes he makes his nest His bed amidst my tender brest My kisses are his daily feast And yet he robs me of my rest Ah wanton will ye And if I sleepe then pierceth he with prettie slight And makes his pillow of my knee the liue-long night Strike I my Lute he tunes the string He musicke playes if I but sing He lends me euery lonely thing Yet cruell he my heart doth sting Whilst wanton still ye Else I with Roses euery day will whip ye hence And binde ye when ye long to play for your offence I le shut mine eyes to keepe ye in I le make you fast it for your sinne He count your power not woorth a pin Alas what hereby shall I winne If he gaine-say me What if I beate the wanton Boy with many a rod He will repay me with annoy because a God Then sit thou safely on my knee And let thy bower my bosome be Lurke in mine eyes I like of thee O Cupid so thou pitty me Spare not but play thee FINIS Thom. Lodge ¶ A Dialogue Song betweene Syluanus and Arsilius Syl. SHepheard why do'st thou holde thy peace Sing and thy ioy to vs report Arsil My ioy good Shepheard should be lesse If it were tolde in any sort Syl. Though such great fauours thou do'st winne Yet daigne thereof to tell some part Arsil The hardest thing is to begin In enterprizes of such Art Syl. Come make an end no cause omit Of all the ioyes that thou art in Arsil How should I make an end of it That am not able to begin Syl. It is not iust we should consent That thou shoul'dst not thy ioyes recite Arsil The soule that felt the punishment Doth onely feele this great delight Syl. That ioy is small and nothing fine That is not tolde abroad to many Arsil If it be such a ioy as mine It neuer can be tolde to any Syl. How can this hart of thine containe A ioy that is of such great force Arsil I haue it where I did retaine My passions of so great remorse Syl. So great and rare a ioy is this No man is able to with-hold Arsil But greater that a pleasure is The lesse it may with words be told Syl. Yet haue I heard thee heretofore Thy ioyes in open Songs report Arsil I said I had of ioy some store But not how much nor in what sort Syl. Yet when a ioy is in excesse It selfe it will oft-times vnfolde Arsil Nay such a ioy would be the lesse If but a word thereof were tolde FINIS Bar. Yong. ¶ Montanus Sonnet VVHen the dogge Full of rage With his irefull eyes Frownes amidst the skies The Shepheard to asswage The furie of the heate Himselfe doth safely seate By a Fount Full of faire Where a gentle breath Mounting from beneath tempereth the ayre There his flocks Drinke their fill And with ease repose While sweet sleepe doth close Eyes from toyling ill But
so cleare and bright By making here there your thoughts estray Tell me what will you feele before her sight Hence solitarinesse torments away Felt for her sake and wearied members cast Off all your paine redeem'd this happy day O stay not time but passe with speedy hast And Fortune hinder not her comming now O God betides me yet this griefe at last Come my sweet Shepheardesse the life which thou Perhaps didst thinke was ended long agoe At thy commaund is readie still to bow Comes not my Shepheardesse desired so O God what if she 's lost or if she stray Within this wood where trees so thicke doe grow Or if this Nimph that lately went away Perhaps forgot to goe and seeke her out No no in her obliuion neuer lay Thou onely art my Shepheardesse about Whose thoughts my soule shall finde her ioy and rest Why comm'st not then to assure it frō doubt O seest thou not the Sunne passe to the West And if it passe and I behold thee not Then I my wonted torments will request And thou shalt waile my hard and heauie lot FINIS Bar. Yong. ¶ Another of Astrophell to his Stella IN a Groue most rich of shade Where Birds wanton musique made May then young his pyed weedes showing New perfum'd with flowers fresh growing Astrophell with Stella sweet Did for mutuall comfort meet Both within them-selues oppressed But each in the other blessed Him great harmes had taught much care Her faire necke a foule yoake bare But her sight his cares did banish In his sight her yoake did vanish Wept they had alas the while But now teares them-selues did smile While their eyes by Loue directed Enterchangeably reflected Sigh they did but now betwixt Sighs of woes were glad sighs mixt With armes crost yet testifying Restlesse rest and liuing dying Their eares hungry of each word Which the deare tongue would afford But their tongues restrain'd from walking Till their hearts had ended talking But when their tongues could not speake Loue it selfe did silence breake Loue did set his lips a-sunder Thus to speake in loue and wonder Stella Soueraigne of my ioy Faire triumpher of annoy Stella starre of heauenly fire Stella Loadstarre of desire Stella in whose shining eyes Are the lights of Cupids skies Whose beames where they once are darted Loue there-with is strait imparted Stella whose voyce when it speakes Sences all asunder breakes Stella whose voyce when it singeth Angels to acquaintance bringeth Stella in whose body is Writ each Character of blisse Whose face all all beautie passeth Saue thy minde which it surpasseth Graunt O graunt but speech alas Failes me fearing on to passe Graunt O me what am I saying But no fault there is in praying Graunt O deere on knees I pray Knees on ground he then did stay That not I but since I loue you Time and place for me may moue you Neuer season was more fit Neuer roome more apt for it Smiling ayre alowes my reason The birds sing now vse the season This small winde which so sweet is See how it the leaues doth kisse Each tree in his best attyring Sence of loue to loue inspiring Loue makes earth the water drinke Loue to earth makes water sinke And if dumbe things be so wittie Shall a heauenly grace want pittie There his hands in their speech faine Would haue made tongues language plaine But her hands his hands repelling Gaue repulse all grace excelling Then she spake her speech was such As not eares but hart did touch While such wise she loue denied As yet loue she signified Astrophell said she my Loue Cease in these effects to proue Now be still yet still beleeue me Thy griefe more then death doth grieue mee If that any thought in me Can taste comfort but of thee Let me feede with hellish anguish Ioylesse helplesse endlesse languish If those eyes you praised be Halfe so deere as you to me Let me home returne starke blinded Of those eyes and blinder minded If to secret of my hart I doe any wish impart Where thou art not formost placed Be both wish and I defaced If more may be said I say All my blisse on thee I lay If thou loue my loue content thee For all loue all faith is meant thee Trust me while I thee denie In my selfe the smart I trie Tirant honour doth thus vse thee Stellaes selfe might not refuse thee Therefore deere this no more moue Least though I leaue not thy loue Which too deepe in me is framed I should blush when thou art named There-with-all away she went Leauing him to passion rent With what she had done and spoken That there-with my Song is broken FINIS S. Phil. Sidney ¶ Syrenus his Song to Dianaes Flockes PAssed contents Oh what meane ye Forsake me now and doe not wearie me Wilt thou heare mee O memorie My pleasant dayes and nights againe I haue appai'd with seauen-fold paine Thou hast no more to aske me why For when I went they all did die As thou do'st see O leaue me then and doe not wearie me Greene field and shadowed valley where Sometime my chiefest pleasure was Behold what I did after passe Then let me rest and if I beare Not with good cause continuall feare Now doe you see O leaue me then and doe not trouble mee I saw a hart changed of late And wearied to assure mine Then I was forced to recure mine By good occasion time and fate My thoughts that now such passion hate O what meane ye Forsake me now and doe not wearie mee You Lambes and Sheepe that in these Layes Did sometime follow me so glad The merry houres and the sad Are passed now with all those dayes Make not such mirth and wonted playes As once did ye For now no more you haue deceaued me If that to trouble me you come Or come to comfort me indeed I haue no ill for comforts need But if to kill me Then in some Now my ioyes are dead and dombe Full well may ye Kill me and you shall make an end of me FINIS Bar. Yong. ¶ To Amarillis THough Amarillis dance in greene Like Fairie Queene And sing full cleere With smiling cheere Yet since her eyes make heart so sore hey hoe I hill loue no more My Sheepe are lost for want of foode And I so wood That all the day I sit and watch a Heard-mayde gay Who laughs to see me sigh so sore hey hoe I hill loue no more Her louing lookes her beautie bright Is such delight That all in vaine I loue to like and loose my gaine For her that thanks me not therefore hey hoe I hill loue no more Ah wanton eyes my friendly foes And cause of woes Your sweet desire Breedes flames of Ice and freeze in fire You scorne to see me weepe so sore hey hoe I hill loue no more Loue ye who list I force him not Sith God it wot The more I waile The lesse my sighs and teares preuaile What shall
while their Lasses smil'd Lasses which had them beguil'd Hills with trees were richly dight Vallies stor'd with Vestaes wealth Both did harbour sweet delight Nought was there to hinder health Thus did Heauen grace the soyle Not deform'd with work-mens toile Purest plot of earthly mold Might that Land be iustly named Art by Nature was controld Art which no such pleasures framed Fayrer place was neuer seene Fittest place for Beauties Queene FINIS I. M. ¶ Menaphon to Pesana FAire fields proud Floraes vaunt why i' st you smile when as I languish You golden Meades why striue you to beguile my weeping anguish I liue to sorrow you to pleasure spring why doe ye spring thus What will not Boreas tempests wrathfull King take some pitty on vs And send forth Winter in her rustie weede to waile my bemoanings While I distrest doe tune my Country Reede vnto my groanings But Heauen and Earth time place and euery power haue with her conspired To turne my blisfull sweet to balefull sower since I this desired The Heauen whereto my thoughts may not aspire aye me vnhappy It was my fault t' imbrace my bane the fire that forceth me die Mine be the paine but hers the cruell cause of this strange torment Wherefore no time my banning prayers shall pause till proud she repent FINIS Ro. Greene. ¶ A sweet Pastorall GOod Muse rocke me a sleepe with some sweet Harmonie This weary eye is not to keepe thy wary companie Sweet Loue be gone a while thou knowest my heauines Beautie is borne but to beguile my hart of happines See how my little flocke that lou'd to feede on hie Doe headlong tumble downe the Rocke and in the Vallie die The bushes and the trees that were so fresh and greene Doe all their daintie colour leese and not a leafe is seene The Blacke-bird and the Thrush that made the woods to ring With all the rest are now at hush and not a note they sing Sweet Philomele the bird that hath the heauenly throat Doth now alas not once affoord recording of a noate The flowers haue had a frost each hearbe hath lost her fauour And Phillida the faire hath lost the comfort of her fauour Now all these carefull sights so kill me in conceit That how to hope vpon delights it is but meere deceite And therefore my sweet Muse that knowest what helpe is best Doe now thy heauenly cunning vse to set my heart at rest And in a dreame bewray what fate shall be my friend Whether my life shall still decay or when my sorrow end FINIS N. Breton ¶ Harpalus complaint on Phillidaes loue bestowed or Corin who loued her not and denyed him that loued her PHillida was a faire maide as fresh as any flower Whom Harpalus the Heards-man praide to be his Paramour Harpalus and eke Corin were Heards-men both yfere And Phillida could twist and spinne and thereto sing full cleere But Phillida was all too coy for Harpalus to winne For Corin was her onely ioy who forc'd her not a pinne How often would she flowers twine how often Garlands make Of Cowslips and of Cullumbine and all for Corins sake But Corin he had Hawkes to lure and forced more the field Of Louers law hee tooke no cure for once hee was beguild Harpalus preuailed naught his labour all was lost For he was furthest from her thought and yet he lou'd her most Therefore woxe he both pale and leane and dry as clod of clay His flesh it was consumed cleane his colour gone away His beard it had not long beene shaue his haire hung all vnkempt A man most fit euen for the graue whom spitefull Loue had spent His eyes were red and all fore-watcht his face besprent with teares It seem'd vnhap had him long hatcht in midst of his dispaires His cloathes were blacke and also bare as one forlorne was hee Vpon his head he alwayes ware a wreath of Willow-tree His beasts he kept vpon the hill and he sate in the Dale And thus with sighs and sorrowes shrill he gan to tell his tale Oh Harpalus thus would he say vnhappiest vnder Sunne The cause of thine vnhappy day by loue was first begun For thou went'st first by sute to seeke a Tyger to make tame That sets not by thy loue a Leeke but makes thy griefe a game As easie were it to conuert the frost into a flame As for to turne a froward hart whom thou so faine wouldst frame Corin he liueth carelesse he leapes among the leaues He eates the fruites of thy redresse thou reap'st he takes the sheaues My beasts a-while your foode refraine and harke your Heard-mans sound Whom spightfull Loue alas hath slaine through-girt with many a wound Oh happy be ye beasts wild that here your Pasture takes I see that ye be not beguild of these your faithfull makes The Hart he feedeth by the Hinde the Bucke hard by the Doe The Turtle-Doue is not vnkinde to him that loues her so The Eweshe hath by her the Ram the young Cowe hath the Bull The Calfe with many a lusty Lamb doe feede their hunger full But well-away that Nature wrought thee Phillida so faire For I may say that I haue bought thy beauty all too deere What reason is' t that cruelty with beauty should haue part Or else that such great tirannie should dwell in womans hart I see therefore to shape my death she cruelly is prest To th' end that I may want my breath my dayes beene at the best Oh Cupid grant this my request and doe not stop thine eares That she may feele within her brest the paine of my despaires Of Corin that is carelesse that she may craue her fee As I haue done in great distresse that lou'd her faithfully But since that I shall die her slaue her slaue and eke her thrall Write you my friends vpon my graue this chance that is befall Here lyeth vnhappy Harpalus by cruell Loue now slaine Whom Phillida vniustly thus hath murdred with disdaine FINIS L.T. Haward Earle of Surrie ¶ Another of the same subiect but made as it were in answere ON a goodly Summers day Harpalus and Phillida He a true harted Swaine She full of coy disdaine droue their Flocks to field He to see his Shepheardesse She did dreame on nothing lesse Then his continuall care Which to grim-fac'd Dispaire wholely did him yeeld Corin she affected still All the more thy heart to kill Thy case doth make me rue That thou should'st loue so true and be thus disdain'd While their Flocks a feeding were They did meete together there Then with a curtsie lowe And sighs that told his woe thus to her he plain'd Bide a while faire Phillida List what Harpalus will say Onely in loue to thee Though thou respect not mee yet vouchsafe an eare To preuent ensuing ill Which no doubt betide thee will If thou doe not fore-see To shunne it presently then thy harme I feare Firme thy loue is well I wot To the man that
a Song After that thou didst honour and take hould Of my sweet Loue and of my happy soule What greater ioy can any man desire Then to remaine a Captiue vnto Loue And haue his heart subiected to his power And though sometimes he tast a little sower By suffering it as mild as gentle Doue Yet must he be in hew of that great hire Whereto be doth aspire If Louers liue afflicted and in paine Let them with cause complaine Of cruell fortune and of times aâ—â—… And let not them accuse Thee gentle-Loue that doth with 〈…〉 Within thy sweetest ioyes each laâ—… 〈◊〉 Behold a faire sweet face and shining eyeâ— Resembling two most bright and twinkling Sending vnto the soule a perfect light Behold the rare perfections of those wâ—â—â—â— And Iuorie hands from griefes most surest barres That minde wherein all life and glory lyes That ioy that neuer dyes That he doth feele that loues and is beloued And my delights approued To see her pleas'd whose loue maintaines me here All those I count so deere That though sometimes Loue doth my ioyes controule Yet am I glad he dwels within my soule FINIS Bar. Yong. ¶ A Shepheards dreame A Silly Shepheard lately sate among a Flock of Sheepe Where musing long on this and that at last he fell a sleepe And in the slumber as he lay he gaue a pitteous groane He thought his sheepe were runne away and he was left alone He whoopt he whistled and he call'd but not a sheepe came neere him Which made the Shepheard sore appall'd to see that none would heare him But as the Swaine amazed stood in this most solemne vaine Came Phillida forth of the Wood and stood before the Swaine Whom when the Shepheard did behold he straight began to weepe And at the heart he grew a cold to thinke vpon his sheepe For well he knew where came the Queene the Shepheard durst not stay And where that he durst not be seene the sheepe must needes away To aske her if she saw his Flock might happen patience moue And haue an answere with a mock that such demanders proue Yet for because he saw her come alone out of the Wood He thought he would not stand as dombe when speech might doe him good And therefore falling on his knees to aske but for his sheepe He did awake and so did leese the honour of his sleepe FINIS N. Breton ¶ The Shepheards Ode NIghts were short and dayes were long Blossomes on the Hawthorne hong Philomell Night-Musiques King Told the comming of the Spring Whose sweet-siluer-sounding-voyce Made the little birds reioyce Skipping light from spray to spray Till Aurora shew'd the day Scarse might one see when I might see For such chances sudden be By a Well of Marble-stone A Shepheard lying all alone Weepe he did and his weeping Made the fading flowers spring Daphnis was his name I weene Youngest Swaine of Summers Queene When Aurora saw t' was he Weepe she did for companie Weepe she did for her sweet Sonne That when antique Troy was wonne Suffer'd death by lucklesse Fate Whom she now laments too late And each morning by Cocks crewe Showers downe her siluer dewe Whose teares falling from their spring Giue moisture to each liuing thing That on earth encrease and grow Through power of their friendly foe Whose effect when Flora felt Teares that did her bosome melt For who can resist teares often But she whom no teares can soften Peering straite aboue the banks Shew'd her selfe to giue her thanks Wondring thus at Natures worke Wherein many meruailes lurke Me thought I heard a dolefull noyse Consorted with a mournfull voyce Drawing neere to heare more plaine Heare I did vnto my paine For who is not pain'd to heare Him in griefe whom heart holds deere Silly Swaine with griefe ore-gone Thus to make his pitteous mone Loue I did alas the while Loue I did but did beguile My deere Loue with louing so Whom as then I did not know Loue I did the fairest Boy That these fields did ere enioy Loue I did faire Ganimede Venus darling beauties bed Him I thought the fairest creature Him the quintessence of Nature But yet alas I was deceau'd Loue of reason is bereau'd For since then I saw a Lasse Lasse that did in beauty passe Passe faire Ganimede as farre As Phaebus doth the smallest starre Loue commanded me to loue Fancie bad me not remoue My affection from the Swaine Whom I neuer could obtaine For who can obtaine that fauour Which he cannot grant the crauer Loue at last though loth preuail'd Loue that so my heart assail'd Wounding me with her faire eyes Ah how Loue can subtillize And deuise a thousand shifts How to worke men to his drifts Her it is for whom I mourne Her for whom my life I scorne Her for whom I weepe all day Her for whom I sigh and say Either she or else no creature Shall enioy my loue whose feature Though I neuer can obtaine Yet shall my true-loue remaine Till my body turn'd to clay My poore soule must passe away To the heauens where I hope It shall finde a resting scope Then since I loued thee alone Remember me when I am gone Scarse had he these last words spoken But me thought his heart was broken With great griefe that did abound Cares and griefe the heart confound In whose heart thus riu'd in three Eliza written I might see In Caracters of crimson blood Whose meaning well I vnderstood Which for my heart might not behold I hied me home my Sheepe to fold FINIS Rich. Barnefielde ¶ The Shepheards commendation of his Nimph. VVHat Shepheard can expresse The fauour of her face To whom in this distresse I doe appeale for grace A thousand Cupids flye About her gentle eye From which each throwes a Dart That kindleth soft sweet fire Within my sighing hart Possessed by desire No sweeter life I trie Then in her loue to die The Lilly in the field That glories in his white For purenesse now must yeeld And render vp his right Heauen pictur'd in her face Doth promise ioy and grace Faire Cynthiaes siluer light That beates on running streames Compares not with her white Whose haires are all Sun-beames So bright my Nimph doth shine As day vnto my eyne With this there is a red Exceedes the Damaske-Rose Which in her cheekes is spred Whence euery fauour growes In Skie there is no starre But she surmounts it farre When Phaebus from the bed Of Thetis doth arise The morning blushing red In faire Carnation wise He shewes in my Nimphs face As Queene of euery grace This pleasant Lilly white This taint of Roseate red This Cynthiaes siluer light This sweet faire Dea spred These Sun-beames in mine eye These beauties make me die FINIS Earle of Oxenford ¶ Coridon to his Phillis ALas my heart mine eye hath wronged thee Presumptuous eye to gaze on Phillis face Whose heauenly eye no mortall man may see But he must die or purchase Phillis grace Poore
reliefe I feare a mayd that I shall die If that be all the Shepheard sayd heigh hoe the Shepheard sayd He make thee wiue it gentle Mayde and so recure thy maladie Hereon they kist with many an oath heigh hoe many an oath And fore God Pan did plight their troath so to the Church apace they hie And God send euery pretty peate heigh hoe the pretty peate That feares to die of this conceit so kinde a friend to helpe at last Then Maydes shall neuer long againe heigh hoe to long againe When they finde ease for such a paine thus my Roundelay is past FINIS Thom. Lodge ¶ The Shepheards Sonnet MY fairest Ganimede disdaine me not Though silly Shepheard I presume to loue thee Though my harsh Songs and Sonnets cannot moue thee Yet to thy beauty is my loue no blot Apollo Ioue and many Gods beside S'dain'd not the name of Country Shepheard Swaines Nor want we pleasures though we take some paines We liue contentedly A thing call'd pride Which so corrupts the Court and euery place Each place I meane where learning is neglected And yet of late euen learnings selfe 's infected I know not what it meanes in any case We onely when Molorchus gins to peepe Learne for to fold and to vnfold our Sheepe FINIS Rich. Barnefield ¶ Seluagia and Siluanus their Songs to Diana Sel. I See thee iolly Shepheard merrie And firme thy faith and sound as a berry Sil. Loue gaue me ioy and Fortune gaue it As my desire could wish to haue it Sel. What didst thou wish tell me sweet Louer Whereby thou might'st such ioy recouer Sil. To loue where loue should be inspired Since there 's no more to be desired Sel. In this great glory and great gladnes T'hinkst thou to haue no touch of sadnes Sil. Good Fortune gaue me not such glory To mock my Loue or make me sorrie Sel. If my firme loue I were denying Tell me with sighs would'st thou be dying Sil. Those words in ieast to heare thee speaking For very griefe this hart is breaking Sel. Yet would'st thou change I pre-thee tell me In seeing one that did excell me Sil. O no for how can I aspire To more then to mine owne desire Sel. Such great affection do'st thou beare me As by thy words thou seem'st to sweare me Sil. Of thy deserts to which a debter I am thou maist demaund this better Sel. Sometimes me thinks that I should sweare it Sometimes me thinks thou should'st not beare it Sil. Onely in this my hap doth grieue me And my desire not to beleeue me Sel. Imagine that thou do'st not loue mine But some braue beautie that 's aboue mine Sil. To such a thing sweet doe not will me Where fayning of the same doth kill me Sel. I see thy firmenesse gentle Louer More then my beautie can discouer Sil. And my good fortune to be higher Then my desert but not desire FINIS Bar. Yong. ¶ Montanus his Madrigall IT was a Vallie gawdie greene Where Dian at the Fount was seene Greene it was And did passe All other of Dianaes bowers In the pride of Floraes flowers A Fount it was that no Sunne sees Cirkled in with Cipres trees Set so nie As Phaebus eye Could not doe the Virgins scathe To see them naked when they bathe She sate there all in white Colour fitting her delight Virgins so Ought to goe For white in Armorie is plaste To be the colour that is chaste Her taffata Cassock you might see Tucked vp aboue her knee Which did show There below Legges as white as Whales bone So white and chaste was neuer none Hard by her vpon the ground Sate her Virgins in a round Bathing their Golden haire And singing all in notes hie Fie on Venus flattering eye Fie on Loue it is a toy Cupid witlesse and a boy All his fires And desires Are plagues that God sent from on hie To pester men with miserie As thus the Virgins did disdaine Louers ioy and Louers paine Cupid nie Did espie Greeuing at Dianaes Song Slily stole these Maides among His bow of steele darts of fire He shot amongst them sweet desire Which straite flies In their eyes And at the entrance made them start For it ranne from eye to hart Calisto straite supposed Ioue Was faire and frolique for to loue Dian she Scap'd not free For well I wote heere vpon She lou'd the Swaine Endimion Clitia Phaebus and Chloris eye Thought none so faire as Mercurie Venus thus Did discusse By her Sonne in darts of fire None so chaste to check desire Dian rose with all her Maydes Blushing thus at Loues braides With sighs all Shew their thrall And flinging thence pronounc'd this saw What so strong as Loues sweet law FINIS Ro. Greene. ¶ Astrophell to Stella his third Song IF Orpheus voyce had force to breathe such musiques loue Through pores of sencelesse trees as it could make them moue If stones good measure daunc'd the Thebane walls to build To cadence of the times which Amphyons Lyre did yeeld More cause a like effect at least-wise bringeth O stones O trees learne hearing Stella singeth If Loue might sweet'n so a boy of Shepheards broode To make a Lyzard dull to taste Loues daintie food If Eagle fierce could so in Grecian Mayde delight As his light was her eyes her death his endlesse night Earth gaue that Loue heau'n I trow Loue defineth O Beasts O Birds looke Loue loe Stella shineth The birds stones and trees feele this and feeling Loue And if the trees nor stones stirre not the same to proue Nor beasts nor birds doe come vnto this blessed gaze Know that small Loue is quicke and great Loue doth amaze They are amaz'd but you with reason armed O eyes O eares of men how are you charmed FINIS S. Phil. Sidney ¶ A Song betweene Syrenus and Syluanus Syrenus VVHo hath of Cupids cates dainties praied May feed his stomach with them at his pleasure If in his drinke some ease he hath assayed Then let him quench his thirsting without measure And if his weapons pleasant in their manner Let him embrace his standard and his banner For being free from him and quite exempted Ioyfull I am and proud and well contented Syluanus Of Cupids daintie cates who hath not prayed May be depriued of them at his pleasure If wormewood in his drinke he hath assayed Let him not quench his thirsting without measure And if his weapons in their cruell manner Let him abiure his standard and his banner For I not free from him and not exempted Ioyfull I am and proud and well contented Syrenus Loue 's so expert in giuing many a trouble That now I know not why he should be praised He is so false so changing and so double That with great reason he must be dispraised Loue in the end is such aiarring passion That none should trust vnto his peeuish fashion For of all mischiefe he 's the onely Master And to my good a torment and disaster Syluanus
me Cannot my beautie moue thee Pitty yet pitty me Because I loue thee Aye me thou scorn'st the more I pray thee And this thou do'st and all to slay me Why doe then Kill me and vaunt thee Yet my Ghost Still shall haunt thee FINIS Out of M. Morleyes Madrigalis ¶ To his Flockes BVrst forth my teares assist my forward griefe And shew what paine imperious Loue prouokes Kinde tender Lambs lament Loues scant reliefe And pine since pensiue care my freedome yoakes Oh pine to see me pine my tender Flockes Sad pining care that neuer may haue peace At Beauties gate in hope of pittie knocks But mercie sleepes while deepe disdaines encrease And Beautie hope is her faire bosome yoakes Oh grieue to heare my griefe my tender Flockes Like to the windes my sighs haue winged beene Yet are my sighs and sutes repaide with mockes I pleade yet she repineth at my teene O ruthlesse rigour harder then the Rockes That both the Shepheard kills and his poore Flockes FINIS ¶ To his Loue. COme away come sweet Loue The golden morning breakes All the earth all the ayre Of loue and pleasure speakes Teach thine armes then to embrace And sweet Rosie lips to kisse And mixe our soules in mutuall blisse Eyes were made for beauties grace Viewing ruing Loues long paine Procur'd by beauties rude disdaine Come away come sweet Loue The golden morning wasts While the Sunne from his Sphere His fierie arrowes casts Making all the shadowes flie Playing staying in the Groaue To entertaine the stealth of loue Thither sweet Loue let vs hie Flying dying in desire Wing'd with sweet hopes and heauenly fire Come away come sweet Loue Doe not in vaine adiorne Beauties grace that should rise Like to the naked morne Lillies on the Riuers side And faire Cyprian flowers new blowne Desire no beauties but their owne Ornament is Nurse of pride Pleasure measure Loues delight Hast then sweet Loue our wished flight FINIS ¶ Another of his Cynthia AWay with these selfe-louing-Lads Whom Cupids arrowe neuer glads Away poore soules that sigh and weepe In loue of them that lie and sleepe For Cupid is a Meadow God And forceth none to kisse the rod. God Cupids shaft like destinie Doth either good or ill decree Desert is borne out of his bowe Reward vpon his feete doth goe What fooles are they that haue not knowne That Loue likes no lawes but his owne My Songs they be of Cynthias praise I weare her Rings on Holy-dayes On euery Tree I write her name And euery day I reade the same Where Honour Cupids riuall is There miracles are seene of his If Cynthia craue her Ring of mee I blot her name out of the tree If doubt doe darken things held deere Then wel-fare nothing once a yeere For many runne but one must win Fooles onely hedge the Cuckoe in The worth that worthinesse should moue Is loue which is the due of loue And loue as well the Shepheard can As can the mightie Noble man Sweet Nimph t is true you worthy be Yet without loue nought worth to me FINIS ¶ Another to his Cynthia MY thoughts are wing'd with hopes my hopes with loue Mount loue vnto the Moon in clearest night And say as she doth in the heauens moue On earth so waines and wexeth my delight And whisper this but softly in her eares Hope oft doth hang the head and trust shed teares And you my thoughts that some mistrust doe carrie If for mistrust my Mistresse doe you blame Say though you alter yet you doe not varie As she doth change and yet remaine the same Distrust doth enter hearts but not infect And loue is sweetest seasoned with suspect If she for this with cloudes doe maske her eyes And make the heauens darke with her disdaine With windie sighs dispierce them in the skies Or with thy teares dissolue them into raine Thoughts hopes and loue returne to me no more Till Cynthia shine as she hath done before FINIS ¶ These three Ditties were taken out of Maister Iohn Dowlands Booke of Tableture for the Lute the Authours names not there set downe and therefore left to their owners Montanus Sonnet in the Woods ALas how wander I amidst these Woods Whereas no day bright shine doth finde accesse But where the melancholy fleeting floods Darke as the night my night of woes expresse Disarm'd of reason spoyl'd of Natures goods Without redresse to salue my heauinesse I walke whilst thought too cruell to my harmes with endlesse griefe my heedlesse iudgement charmes My silent tongue assail'd by secret feare My trayterous eyes imprison'd in their ioy My fatall peace deuour'd in fained cheere My heart enforc'd to harbour in annoy My reason rob'd of power by yeelding care My fond opinions slaue to euery ioy Oh Loue thou guide in my vncertaine way Woe to thy bowe thy fire the cause of my decay FINIS S. E. D. ¶ The Shepheards sorrow being disdained in loue MVses help me sorrow swarmeth Eyes are fraught with Seas of languish Haplesse hope my solace harmeth Mindes repast is bitter anguish Eye of day regarded neuer Certaine trust in world vntrustie Flattering hope beguileth euer Wearie old and wanton lustie Dawne of day beholds enthroned Fortunes darling proud and dreadlesse Darksome night doth heare him moaned Who before was rich and needlesse Rob the Spheare of lines vnited Make a suddaine voide in nature Force the day to be benighted Reaue the cause of time and creature Ere the world will cease to varie This I weepe for this I sorrow Muses if you please to tarie Further help I meane to borrow Courted once by Fortunes fauour Compast now with Enuies curses All my thoughts of sorrowes sauour Hopes runne fleeting like the Sourses Aye me wanton scorne hath maimed All the ioyes my heart enioyed Thoughts their thinking haue disclaimed Hate my hopes haue quite annoyed Scant regard my weale hath scanted Looking coy hath forc'd my lowring Nothing lik'd where nothing wanted Weds mine eyes to ceaselesse showring Former loue was once admired Present fauour is estraunged Loath'd the pleasure long desired Thus both men and thoughts are changed Louely Swaine with luckie speeding Once but now no more so friended You my Flocks haue had in feeding From the morne till day was ended Drinke and fodder foode and folding Had my Lambs and Ewes together I with them was still beholding Both in warmth and Winter weather Now they languish since refused Ewes and Lambes are pain'd with pining I with Ewes and Lambs confused All vnto our deaths declining Silence leaue thy Caue obscured Daigne a dolefull Swaine to tender Though disdaines I haue endured Yet I am no deepe offender Phillips Sonne can with his finger Hide his scarre it is so little Little sinne a day to linger Wise men wander in a tittle Trifles yet my Swaine haue turned Though my Sunne he neuer showeth Though I weepe I am not mourned Though I want no pittie groweth Yet for pittie loue my Muses Gentle silence be