vaine But they shall fret with spight To see thy glory bright And know themselues thereto cannot attaine MIne eies haue spent their teares now are drie My weary hand will guide my pen no more My voice is hoarse and can no longer cry My head hath left no new complaints in store My heart is ouerburdned so with paine That sence of griefe doth none therein remaine The teares you see distilling from mine eies My gentle Muse doth shed for this my griefe The plaints you heare are her incessant cries By which she calles in vaine for some reliefe She neuer parted since my griefe begunne In her I liue she dead my life were done Then louing Muse departe and let me die Some brauer Youth will sue to thee for grace That may aduance thy glory to the skie And make thee scorn blind Fortunes frowning face My heart and head that did thee entertaine Desire and Fortune with despite haue slaine My Lady dares not lodge thee in her brest For feare vnwares she let in Loue with thee For well she thinkes some part in thee must rest Of that which so possest each part of mee Then good my Muse flie back to heau'n againe And let me die to end this endlesse paine BReake heauy hart and rid mee of this paine This paine that still encreaseth day by day By day with sighes I spend my selfe in vaine In vayne by night with teares I waste away Away I waste with teares by night in vaine Teares sighs by night by day encrease this paine Mine Eyes no Eies but fountaines of my teares My teares no teares but floods to moyst my hart My hart no hart but harbour of my feares My feares no feares but feelings of my smart My smart my feares my hart my teares mine eies Are blind dryde spent past wasted with my cries And yet mine Eyes thogh blind see cause of greefe And yet my teares thogh dride run down amaine And yet my hart though spent attends releefe And yet my feares though past encrease my paine And yet I liue and liuing feele more smart And smarting cry in vaine breake heauy hart WHere witt is ouer-rulde by will And will is led by fond desire There Reason were as good bee still As speaking kindle greater fire For where desire doth beare the sway The hart must rule the head obay What bootes the cunning Pilots skill To tell which way to shape their course When hee that steers will haue his will And driue them where he list perforce So Reason shewes the truth in vaine Where fond desire as King doth raigne TWixt heate and colde twixt death and life I freeze and burne I liue and die Which ioyntly worke in me such strife 〈◊〉 liue in death in cold I fry Nor hot nor cold nor liue nor dead Neither and both this life I lead â—irst burning heate sets all one fire Whereby I seeme in flames to fry Then colde despayre kills hotte desire That drenched deepe in death I lie Heate driues out cold and keepes my life Cold quencheth heate no end of strife The lesse I hope to haue my will The more I feele desire encrease And as desire encreaseth still Despayre to quench it doth not cease So liue I as the Lampe whose light Oft comes oft goes now dim now bright A liuing death IF meanes be none to end my restlesse eare If needes I must orewhelm'd with sorrow lie What better way this sorrow to declare Then that I dying liue and cannot die If nought but losse I reape in steade of gaine If lasting paine doe euery day encrease To thee good Death alas I must complaine Thou art of force to make my sorrow cease If thou because I thee refusde sometime Now shut thine eares and my request deny Still must I loue and waile in woefull Rime That dying still I am and cannot die Spiro non viuo YE walles that shut me vp from sight of men Inclosde wherein aliue I buried lie And thou sometime my bed but now my den Where smothred vp the light of Sunne I flie O shut your selues ech chinke and creuis straine That none but you may heare me thus complain My hollow cries that beate thy stony side Vouchsafe to beate but beate them backe againe That when my griefe hath speech to me denide Mine eares may heare the witnes of my paine As for my Teares whose streames must euer last My silent cowch shall drinke them vp as fast Hopelesse desire soone withers and dies THough naked Trees seeme dead to sight When winter winde doth keenely blow â—et if the roote maintaine her right â—he Spring their hidden life will show But if the roote be dead and drie No maruell though the branches die While Hope did liue within my brest â—o winter storme could kill desire â—ut now disdaine hath hope opprest â—ead is the roote dead is the spire Hope was the roote the spire was Loue No sap beneath no life aboue â—nd as we see the rootelesse stocke â—â—taine some sap and spring a while â—et quickely prooue a lifelesse blocke â—â—cause the roote doth life beguile So liues Desire which Hope hath left As twylight shines when Sunne is reft ODE XII To his Heart NAy nay thou striu'st in vaine my Hart To mend thy misse Thou hast deseru'd to beare this smart And worse then this That wouldst thy selfe debase To serue in such a place Thou thoughtst thy selfe too long at rest Such was thy Pride Needes must thou seeke a nobler brest Wherein to bide Say now what hast thou found In fetters thou art bound What hath thy faithfull seruice wonne But high disdaine Broke is the threede thy fancie spunne Thy labour vaine Falne art thou now with paine And canst not rise againe And canst thou looke for helpe of mee In this distresse 〈◊〉 must confesse I pittie thee And can no lesse But beare a while thy paine For feare thou fall againe â—earne by thy hurt to shunne the fire Play not with all When clyming thoughts high things aspyre They seeke their fall Thou ween'st nought shone but golde So wast thou blind and bolde â—et lie not still for this disgrace But mount againe â—o that thou know the wished place Bee worth thy paine Then though thou fall and die Yet neuer feare to flie PHALEVCIACKS II. WIsdome warns me to shun that once I sought for And in time to retire my hasty footsteps Wisdome sent from aboue not earthly wisdome No such thoughts can arise from earthly wisdome Long too long haue I slept in ease vneasie On falce worldly releefe my trust reposing Health and wealth in a bote no sterne nor ankor Bold and blinde that I was to Sea be taking Scarce from shore had I lancht when all about mee Waues like hilles did arise till help from heauen Brought my Ship to the Porte of late repentance O nauis referent in mare te noui Fluctus ODE XIII NOw haue I learn'd with much a doo at last By true disdaine to
when I saw that these my thoughts increasd And that my thoughts vnto my woes gaue fire I hopte both thoughtes and woes might be release If to the Muses I did me retire Whose sweet delights were wont to ease my wâ— But now alas they could do nothing so For trying oft alas yet still in vaine To make some pleasant numbers to arise And beating oft my dulled weary Braine In hope some sweete Conceit for to deuise Out of my mouth no wordes but groanes would come Out of my Pen no inke but teares would runne Of all my old Delights yet one was left Painting alone to ease my minde remain'd By which whenas I look't to be bereft Of these heart-vexing woes that still me strain'd From forth mine eies the blood for colours came And teares withall to temper so the same Adieu my foode that wontst my taste to please Adieu my Songs that bred mine eares delight Adieu sweete Muse that oft my minde didst ease Painting Adieu that oft refresht my sight Since neither taste nor eares nor sight nor mind In your Delights can aught saue sorrow finde SONNET V. To Pitty WAKE Pitty wake for thou hast slept too lon Within the Tygrish hart of that fierce faire Who ruines most where most she should repair And wher she ows most right doth greatest wroÌ„ Wake Pitty wake O do no more prolong Thy needeful help but quickly heare my praye Quickly alas for otherwise Despaire By guiltie death will end my guiltlesse wrong Sweet Pitty wake and tell my cruell Sweete That if my death her honour might encrease I would lay downe my life at her prowd feete And willing die and dying hold my peace Tell her I liue and liuing crie for grace Because my death her glory would deface ODE I. That only her beauty and voice please him I. â—Assion may my Iudgement bleare Therfore sure I will not sweare That others are not pleasing â—ut I speake it to my paine â—nd my life shall it maintaine None else yeelds my hart easing II. â—adies I doo thinke there bee â—ther some as faire as shee Though none haue fairer features â—ut my Turtle-like Affection â—ince of her I made Election Scornes other fairest creatures III. â—urely I wil not deny â—ut some others reach as high With their sweet warbling voices â—t since her Notes charmde mine Eare â—en the sweetest Tunes I heare To mee seeme rude harsh noyses MADRIGAL I. To Cupid LOVE if a God thou art Then euermore thou must Be mercifull and iust Iâ— thou be iust O wherefore doth thy Dart Wound mine alone and not my Ladies Hart If mercifull then why Am I to paine reseru'd Who haue thee truely seru'd While she that by thy powre sets not a slie Laughs thee to scorne and liues in libettie Then if a God thou would'st accounted be Heale me like her or else wound her like me MADRIGAL II. Vpon his Mistresse sickenes and his owne health IN health and ease am I Yet as I senslesse were it nought contents mee You sicke in paine do lie And ah your paine exceedingly torments me Whereof his only is the reason true That dead vnto my selfe I liue in you MADRIGAL III. He begs a Kisse SORROVV seldome killeth any Sodaine Ioy hath murthered many Then Sweete if you would end mee T is a fond course with lingring griefe to spend met For quickly to dispatch me â—our onely way is in your armes to catch mee And giue me a sweete Kisse â—or such excessiue and vnlookt for blisse Would so much ouer-ioy mee As it would strait destroy mee MADRIGAL IIII. Vpon a Kisse receiued â—INCE your sweete cherry lippes I kist No want of foode I once haue mist 〈◊〉 stomach now no meate requires 〈◊〉 throate no drinke at all desires 〈◊〉 by your breath which then I gained â—melion-like my life 's maintained â—en grant me Deere those cherries still â—et me feede on them my fill â—y a surfet death I get â—n my Tombe let this be set â—eere lieth hee whome Cherries two â—lade both to liue and life forgo ODE II. Vpon her protesting that now hauing tried his sincere affection she loued him I LADIE you are with beauties so enriched Of body and of minde As I can hardly finde Which of them all hath most my heart bewitched 2 Whether your skin so white so smoothe so tender Or Face so louely faire Or long hart-binding haire Or dainty Hand or Legge and Foote so slender 3 Or whether your sharpe wit and liuely spirit Where Pride can finde no place Or your most pleasing grace Or speech which doth true eloquence inherit 4 â—ost louely all and each of them do moue mee More then words can expresse But yet I must confesse loue you most because you please to loue mee ODE II. His restlesse estate Your Presence breedes my anguish Your absence makes me languish Your sight with woe doth fill mee And want of your sweete sight alas doth kill mee If those deere Eyes that burne mee With milde aspect you turne mee For life my weake hart panteth If frovvningly my Spirit and Life-blood fainteth If you speake kindly to mee Alas kind words vndoo mee Yer silence doth dislike mee And one vnkind il word stark dead would strike mâ— Thus Sunne nor shade doth ease mee Nor speach nor silence please mee Fauours and frownes annoy mee Both want and plentie equally destroy me ELEGIE II. Or Letter in Verse MY deerest Sweete if these sad lines do happe The raging fury of the Sea to scape O be not you more cruell then the Seas Let Pitty now your angry Minde appease So that your Hand may bee their blessed Port From whence they may vnto your Eyes resort And at that Throane pleading my wretched case May moue your cruell Hart to yeeld mee grace So may no Cloudes of elder yeeres obscure Your Sun-like Eyes but stil as bright endure As then they shone when with one piercing Ray They made my selfe their slaue my hart their pray So may no Sicknesse nippe those flowers sweet Which euer slowring on your Cheekes doo meet Nor all-defacing Time haue power to rase The goodly building of that heauenly Face Fountaine of Blisse yet well-spring of my woe O would I might not iustly terme you so Alas your cruell dealing and my Fate Haue now reduc'de mee to that wretched state That I know not how I my style may frame To thanks or grudging or to praise or blame And where to write I al my powers do bend There wot I not how to beginne or ende And now my drisling teares trill downe apace As if the latter would the former chace Whereof some few on my pale Cheekes remaine Like wither'd flowers bedewd with drops of rainâ— The otherr falling in my Paper sinke Or dropping in my Pen increase my inke Which suddaine Passions Cause if you would find A trembling feare doth now possesse my minde That you will not vouchsafe these lines to reede Lest they some pitty in your harte might breede But
my selfe so neere the brinke And yet my fill I cannot drinke Loue the onely price of Loue. THe fairest Pearles that Northerne Seas do breed For pretious stones from Easterne coasts are sold Nought yeelds the earth that froÌ„ exchange is freed Gold valews all and all things valew Gold Where goodnes wants an equall change to make There greatnes serues or number place doth take No mortall thing can beare so hie a price But that with mortall thing it may be bought The corne of Sicill buies the westerne spice French wine of vs of them our cloth is sought No pearles no gold no stones no corne no spice No cloth no wine for loue can pay the price What thing is loue which nought can counteruaile Nought saue it selfe eu'n such a thing is Loue. All worldly wealth in worth as far doth faile As lowest earth doth yeeld to heau'n aboue Diuine is Loue and scorneth worldly pelfe And can be bought with nothing but with selfe Such is the price my louing heart would pay Such is the pay thy Loue doth claime as due Thy due is Loue which I poore I assay In vaine assay to quite with friendship true True is my loue and true shall euer bee And truest loue is farre too base for thee Loue but thy selfe and loue thy selfe alone For saue thy selfe none can thy loue requite All mine thou hast but all as good as none My small desart must take a lower flight Yet if thou wilt vouchsafe my hart such blis Accept it for thy Prisner at it is His Hart arraigned of Theft and acquitted MY Hart was found within my Ladies Brest Close coucht for feare that no maÌ„ might him see On whom suspect did serue a straight Arrest And Felon-like hee must arraigned bee What could he meane so closely there to stay But by deceit to steale her hart away The Bench was set the Prisoner forth was brought My Mistresse selfe cheefe Iudge to heare the cause Th'EnditemeÌ„t read by which his blood was sought That he poore hart by stealth had broke the lawes His Plea was such as each man might descry For grace and ruth were read in either Eye Yet forc'd to speake his farther Plea was this That sore pursude by mee that sought his blood Because so oft his presence I did mis Whil'st as he said he labour'd for my good He voyd of helpe to haue his harmes redrest Tooke Sanctuary within her sacred brest The gentle Iudge that saw his true intent And that his cause did touch her honor neere Since he from me to her for succour went That ruth may raigne where rigour did appeere Gaue sentence thus that if he there would bide That place was made the guiltles hart to hide MADRIGAL I. THine Eyes so bright Bereft my sight When first I viewed thy face So now my light Is turn'd to night I stray from place to place Then guide me of thy kindenesse So shall I blesse my blindenesse PHALEVCIAKS I. TIme nor place did I want what held me tongtide What Charmes what magicall abused Altars Wherefore wisht I so oft that hower vnhappy When with freedome I might recount my tormeÌ„ts And pleade for remedy by true lamenting Dumbe nay dead in a trance I stood amazed When those looks I beheld that late I long'd for No speech no memory no life remained Now speech prateth apace my griefe bewraying Now â—ootlesse memory my plaints remembreth Now life moueth againe but al auailes not Speech life and memory die altogether With speech life memory Loue onely dies not Deadly Sweetnes SWeet thoghts the food on which I feeding sterue Sweet tears the drink that more augmeÌ„ts my thirst Sweet eies the stars by which my cours doth swerue Sweet hope my death which wast my life at first Sweet thoughts sweet teares sweet hope sweet eies How chance that death in sweetnes lies MADRIGAL II. Verball Loue. IF Loue be made of words as woods of Trees Who more belou'd then I If loue be hotte where true desire doth freeze Who more then she doth frie Are droanes that make no hony counted Bees Is running water drie Is that a gainefull trade that has no fees Hee liue that dead doth lie What else but blinde is he that nothing sees But deafe that heares no crie Such is her vowed loue to mee Yet must I thinke it true to bee Ladies eyes serue Cupid both for Darts and Fire OFt haue I mus'd the cause to finde Why Loue in Ladies eies doth dwell 〈◊〉 thought because himselfe was blinde Hee lookt that they should guide him well And sure his hope but seldome failes For Loue by Ladies eyes preuailes But Time at last hath taught me wit Although I bought my wit full deere For by her Eies my heart is hit Deepe is the wound though none appeere Their glauncing beames as darts he throwes And sure he hath no shaftes but those I musde to see their eies so bright And little thought they had beene fire I gazde vpon them with delight But that delight hath bred desire What better place can Loue require Than that where grow both shafts and fire Loues Contrarieties I Smile sometimes amids my greatest griefe Not for Delight for that long since is fled Despaire did shut the Gate against Releefe When Loue at first of death the sentence read But yet I smile sometimes in midst of paine To thinke what toyes do tosse my troubled head How most I wish that most I should tefraine And seeke the thing that least I long to finde And finde the wound by which my heart is slaine Yet want both skill and will to ease my minde Against my will I burne with free consent I liue in paine and in my paine delight I cry for death yet am to liue content I hate the day yet neuer wish for night I freeze for colde and yet refraine the fire I long to see and yet I shunne her sight I scalde in Sunne and yet no shade desire I liue by death and yet I wish to die I feele no hurte and yet for help enquire I die by life and yet my life defie Heu cogor voti nescius esse mei ODE III. DEsire and Hope haue mou'd my minde To seeke for that I cannot finde Assured faith in woman-kinde And loue with loue rewarded Selfe-loue all but himselfe disdaines Suspect as chiefest virtue raignes Desire of change vnchang'd remaines So light is Loue regarded True friendship is a naked name That idle braines in pastime frame Extreames are alwayes worthy blame Enough is common kindnes What floods of teares do Louers spend What sighes from out their hearts they send How many may and will not mend Loue is a wilfull blindnesse What is the Loue they so desire Like loue for loue and equall fire Good louing wormes which loue require And know not when they haue it Is Loue in wordes faire wordes may faine Is Loue in lookes sweet lookes are vaine Both these in common kindnes raigne Yet few or none so
deuoyd of smoke and flame Then what is that which mee tormenteth still If such a thing as Loue indeede there bee What kind of thing or which or where is hee If it be good how causeth it such paine How doth it breed such greefe within my brest If naught how chance the greefe that I sustaine Doth seeme so sweet amidst my great vnrest For sure mee thinkes it is a wondrous thing That so great paine should so great pleasure bring If with my will amidst these flames I fry Whence come thee teares how chance I thus complaine If force perforce I beare this misery What help these Teares that cannot ease my paine How can this fancy beare such sway in mee But if my selfe consent that so it bee And if my selfe consent that so it bee Vniust I am thus to complaine and cry To looke that other men should succour mee â—ince by my fault I feele such misery Who will not helpe himselfe when well hee can Deserues small helpe of any other man Thus am I tost vpon the troublous Seas By sundry winds whose blastes blow sundry waies And eu'ry blast still driuing where it please Brings hope and feare to end my lingring dayes The Steers-man gone saile helme tackle lost How can I hope to gayne the wished Coast Wisedome and folly is the lucklesse fraight My ship therewith ballast vnequally Wisedome too light folly of too great waight My Barke and I through them in ieopardie Thus in the midst of this perplexity I wish for death and yet am loath to die FAyre is thy face and that thou knowest too well Hard is thy Hart and that thou wilt not knowe Thou hear'st and smil'st when I thy prayses tell But stopst thine Eares when I my greef would show Yet thou ghin vaine needs must I speake Or else my swelling Hart would breake And when I speake my breath doth blow the fire With which my burning Hart consumes away I call vpon thy name and helpe require Thy deerest Name which doth mee still betray For grace sweet Grace thy name doth sound Yet ah in thee no grace is found Alas to what parte shal I then appeale Thy face so faire disdaines to looke on mee Thy tongue commands my hart his griefe conceale Thy nimble feete from me do alwayes flee Thine Eyes cast fire to burne my hart And thou reioycest in my smart Then since thou seest the life I leade in paine And that for thee I suffer all this griefe O let my Heart this small request obtaine That thou agree it pine without reliefe I aske not Loue for my good will But leaue that I may loue thee still Quid minus optari per mea vota potest ODE VIII DIsdaine that so doth fill mee Hath surely sworne to kill mee And I must die Desire that still doth burne mee To life againe will turne mee And liue must I. O kill mee then disdaine That I may liue againe Thy lookes are life vnto mee And yet those lookes vndoo mee O death and life Thy smile some rest doth show mee Thy frowne with warre o'rethrow mee O peace and strife Nor life nor death is either Then giue mee both or neither Life only cannot please mee Death only cannot ease mee Change is delight I liue that death may kill mee I die that life may fill mee Both day and night If once Despaire decay Desire will weare away An Inuectiue against Loue. ALL is not Gold that shineth bright in show Nor eu'ry flower so good as faire to sight The deepest streames aboue do calmest flow And strongest Poysons oft the taste delight The pleasant baite doth hide the harmeful hooke And false deceit can lend a friendly looke Loue is the gold whose outward hew doth passe Whose first beginnings goodly promise make Of pleasures faire and fresh as Summers grasse Which neither Sun can parch nor winde can shake But when the Mould should in the fire be tride The Gold is gone the drâ—sse doth still abide Beautie the flower so fresh so faire so gay So sweet to smell so soft to touch and taste As seemes it should endure by right for ay And neuer be with any storme defaste But when the baleful Southerne wind doth blow Gone is the glory which it erst did show Loue is the streame whose waues so calmely flow As might intice mens mindes to wade therein Loue is the poyson mixt with sugar so As might by outward sweetnes liking win But as the deepe o'reflowing stops thy breath So poyson once receiu'd brings certaine death Loue is the baite whose taste the fish deceaues And makes them swallow down the choking hooke Loue is the face whose fairenes iudgement reaues And makes thee trust a false and fained looke But as the hooke the foolish fish doth kill So flatt'ring lookes the Louers life do spill Vsque adeâ— dulce puella malum est Vpon an Heroicall Poeme which hee had begunne in Imitation of Virgil of the first Inhabiting this famous I le by Brute and the Troyans MY wanton Muse that whilome wont to sing Faire Beauties praise and Venus sweet delight Of late had chang'd the tenor of her string To higher tunes then serue for Cupids fight Shril Trumpets sound sharpe Swords Lance strong Warre bloud and death were matter of her song The God of Loue by chance had heard thereof That I was prou'd a Rebell to his Crowne Fit words for Warre quoth he with angry skoff A likely man to write of Marses frowne Well are they sped whose praises he shall write Whose wanton Pen can nought but Loue indit This said he whiskt his parti-coulor'd wings And down to earth he comes more swift theÌ„ thog Then to my hart in angry haste he flings To see what chaÌ„ge these news of wars had wroght He pries and lookes he ransacks eu'ry vaine Yet findes he nought saue loue and Louers pain Then I that now perceiu'd his needles feare With heauy smile began to pleade my cause In vayne quoth I this endlesse greefe I beare In vaine I striue to keepe thy greeuous Lawes If after proofe so often trusty found Vniust Suspect condemne mee as vnsound Is this the guerdon of my faithfull hart Is this the hope on which my life is staide Is this the ease of neuer-ceasing smart Is this the price that for my paines is paid Yet better serue fierce Mars in bloody field Where death or conquest end or ioy doth yeeld Long haue I seru'd what is my pay but payne Oft haue I sude what gaine I but delay My faithfull loue is quited with disdaine My greefe a game my pen is made a play Yea Loue that doth in other fauour find In mee is counted madnes out of kind And last of all but greeuous most of all Thy selfe sweet Loue hath kild me with suspect Could Loue beleeue that I from Loue would fall â—s warre of force to make mee Loue neglect No Cupid knowes my mind is faster set Then that by war I should
my Loue forget My Muse indeed to War enclines her minde The famous Actes of worthy Brute to write To whom the Gods this Ilands rule assignde Which long he soughtby seas throgh Neptunes spight With such conceits my busie head doth swel But in my hart nought els but Loue doth dwell And in this warre thy part is not the least Heere shall my Muse Brutes noble Loue declare Heere shalt thou see the double Loue increast Of fayrest Twins that euer Lady bare Let Mars triumph in Armour shining bright His conquerd Armes shall be thy triumphs light As hee the world so thou shalt him subdue And I thy glory through the world will ring So bee my paines thou wilt vouchsafe to rue And kill despayre With that he whisk't his wing And bade me write and promist wished rest But sore I hope false hope will bee the best Vpon his Ladies buying strings for her Lute IN happy time the wished Fayre is come To fitt thy Lute with strings of eu'ry kinde Great pitty ti 's so sweete a Lute be dumme That so can please the Eare and ease the minde Go take thy choice and chuse the very best And vse them so that head and hart find rest Rest thou in ioy and let me waile alone My pleasant dayes haue tane their last farewell My Hart-strings Sorrow strook so long with mone That at the last they all in pieces fell And now they lie in pieces brooke so small That scarce they serue to make mee frets withall And yet they serue and binde my hart fo strait That frets indeed they serue to fret it out No force for that in hope thereof I waite That death may rid mee both of hope and doubt But death alas drawes backward all too long And I each day feele now encrease of wrong Care will not let him liue nor Hope let him die MY heauy Hart which Greefe and hope torment Beates all in vaine against my weary brest As if it thought with force to make a vent That Death might enter to procure my rest But foolish hart thy paynes are lost I see For death and life both flie and follow thee When weight of care would presse mee downe with paine That I might sinck to depth of death below Hope lends me wings and lifts me vp againe To striue for life and liue in greater woe So fares the bote which winds driue to the shore And Tide driues backward where it was before Thus neyther Hope will let me die with Care Nor Care consent that Hope assure my life I seeke for life death dooth his stroke prepare I come to death and life renewes my strife All as the shadow follow them that flie And flies from them that after it do hie What is my hope that hope will faile at last And greefe gett strength to worke his will on mee Eyther the Waxe with which hopes wings are fast By scalding sighes mine Eyes shall melted see Or els my Teares shall wett the feathers so That I shall fall and drowne in waues of woe Cupids Mariage with Dissimulation A New-found match is made of late Blinde Cupid needs will change his wife New-fangled Loue doth Psyche hate With whom so long he led his life Dessembling shee The Bride must bee To please his wanton eye Psyche laments That Loue repents His choyce without cause why Cycheron sounds with musicke strange Vnknowne vnto the Virgins nine From flat to sharpe the Tune doth range Too base because it is too fine See how the Bride Puft vp with pride Can mince it passing well Shee trips on toe Full faire to show Within doth poyson dwell Now wanton Loue at last is sped Dissembling is his only Ioy â—are Truth from Venus Courte is fled Dissembling pleasures hides annoy It were in vaine To talke of paine The wedding yet doth last But paine is neere And will appeere With a dissembling cast Dispaire and hope are ioyn'd in one And paine with pleasure linked sure Not one of these can come alone No certaine hope no pleasure pure Thus sowre and sweete In loue do meete Dissembling likes it so Of sweete small store Of sowre the more Loue is a pleasant woe Amor mellis fellis ODE X. Dispraise of Loue and Louers follies â—F Loue be life I long to die Liue they that list for mee â—nd he that gaines the most thereby A foole at least shall bee But he that feeles the sorest fits Scapes with no lesse than losse of wits An happy life they gaine Which Loue doo entertaine In day by fained lookes they liue By lying dreames in night Each frowne a deadly wound doth giue Each smile a false delight I ft hap their Lady pleasant seeme It is for others loue they deeme If voyde she seeme of ioy Disdaine doth make her coy Such is the peace that Louers finde Such is the life they leade Blowne here and there with eu'ry winde Like flowers in the Meade Now warre now peace then warre againe Desire Dispaire Delight Disdaine Though dead in midst of life In peace and yet at strife In amore haec insunt mala THe golden Sunne that brings the day And lends men light to see withall In vaine doth cast his beames away Where they are blinde on whom they fall There is no force in all his light To giue the Mole a perfect sight But thou my Sunne more bright then hee That shines at noone in Summer tide Hast giuen me light and power to see With perfect skill my sight to guide Till now I liu'de as blinde as Mole That hides her head in earthly hole I heard the praise of beauties grace Yet deem'd it nought but Poets skill I gaz'de on many a louely face Yet found I none to binde my will Which made me thinke that beauty bright Was nothing else but red and white But now thy beames haue cleer'd my sight I blush to thinke I was so blinde Thy flaming Eies affoord mee light That Beauties blaze each where I finde And yet these Dames that shine so bright Are but the shadow of thy light ODE XI To his Muse REst good my Muse and giue me leaue to rest We striue in vaine Conceale thy skill within thy sacred brest Though to thy paine The honor great which Poets wont to haue With worthy deedes is buried deeepe in graue Each man will hide his name Thereby to hide his shame And silence is the praise their virtues craue To praise is flattery malice to dispraise Hard is the choice What cause is left for thee my Muse to raise Thy heau'nly voice Delight thy selfe on sweet Parnassus hill And for a better time reserue thy skill There let thy siluer sound From Cyrrha wood rebound And all the vale with learned Musicke fill Then shall those fooles that now preferre ech Rime Before thy skill With hand and foote in vaine assay to clime Thy sacred hill There shalt thou sit and skorne them with disdaine To see their fruitles labour all in
them But that their light Is in my sight â—oth when I view them not and when I view the Ere their flames will cease to burne me From my selfe my selfe must turne me Strephon. When none are present by you I feele their might And your eies bright â—ppeare more glorious others being nie you So alone or else compared Wretch I am by them ensnared Klaius â—ince that I am insnared By your eies bright And feele their might Whether alone they be or else compared Wheresoeuer I am nie you Loue I must if I be by you Strephon. When you looke kindely on me They loue incite And spite of Spite I loue them likewise when you frowne vpon me So how e're your lookes are framed By your lookes I am inflamed Klaius â—ince that I am inflamed Ee'n by their spite And they incite â—oul-warming flames wheÌ„ they are mildly framed Howsoe're you looke vpon me Loue I must if you looke on me Strephon. 〈◊〉 when shall I them banish Since against right Nor day nor night â—hough absent from me from me they do vanish So no respite Time doth graunt me But incessantly they haunt me Klaius â—ince they alas do haunt me Both day and night And wonted right Obtain'd by absence absence doth not grant me Night and day may sooner vanish Then from mee I can them banish Strephon. They when the Day doth leaue mee Lodge in my spirite And of their sight No sight by day discerned can bereaue mee So nor Day ought else reuealeth Nor the Night the fame concealeth Klaius Since Day like Night concealeth Each other sight And to my spirite Concealing Darknes them like Day reuealeth Time of time must quite bereaue mee Ere your lookes sweet lookes will leaue me Walter Dauison STREPHONS PALINODE Strephon vpon some vnkindenes conceiued hauing maâ—â— shew to leaue VRANIA and make loue to anothâ—â— Nymph was at the next solemne assembly of shepheard not onely frowned vpon by VRANIA but command with great bitternesse out of her presence Whereuppoâ— sory for his offence and desirous to regaine her graâ—â— whom he neuer had forsaken but in shew vpon his kneâ— he in this Song humbly craues pardon and VRANIâ— finding his true penitence and vnwilling to loose so woâ—thy a seruant receiues him againe into greater graâ—â— and fauour than before SVVEETE I doe not pardon craue Till I haue By deserts this fault amended This I onely this desire That your ire May with penance be suspended Not my Wil but Fate did fetch Me poore wretch Into this vnhappy error Which to plague no Tyrants minde Paine can finde Like my hearts selfe-guiltie terror â—hen O then let that suffize your deare Eies Need not need not more afflict me â—or your sweet Tongue dipt in gall Need at all â—rom your presence interdict me â—nto him that Hell sustaines No new paines Need be sought for his tormenting O my paines helles paines surpas Yet alas You are still new paines inuenting Wâ—y my Loue long firme and true Borne to you â—â—y these teares my greefe expressing Tâ—y this Pipe which nights and daies Sounds your praise â—itty mee my fault confessing Or if I may not desire That their yre â—ay with pennance bee suspended â—et let me full pardon craue When I haue With soone death my fault amended VRANIAES Answer in inuerted Rimes Staffe for Staffe SInce true pennance hath suspended Fained yre More I le grant then you desire Faults confest are halfe amended And I haue In this halfe al that I craue Therefore banish now the terror Which you finde In your guiltlesse grieued minde For though you haue made an Error From mee wretch First biginning it did fetch Ne're my sight I le interdict thee More at all Ne're speake words more dipt in gall Ne're ne're will I more afflict thee With these Eies What is past shal now suffize Now new Ioyes I le be inuenting Which alas May thy passed woes surpas Too long thou hast felt tormenting Too great paines So great Loue and Faith sustaines Let these Eies by thy confessing worthy praise Neuer see more nights nor daies Let my woes be past expressing when to you â—t cease to be kind and true Thus are both our States amended For you haue Fuller pardon then you craue And my feare is quite suspended Since mine ire Wrought th' effect I most desire Fra Dauison I. EGLOGVE A Shepheard poore Eubulus call'd he was Poore now alas but erst had iolly beene â—ne pleasant morne when as the Sunne did passe â—he fiery hornes of raging Bull betweene His little Flocke into a Meade did bring As soone as day-light did begin to spring â—resh was the Meade in Aprils liuerie dight â—eckt with green Trees bedewd with siluer Brooks â—ut ah all other was the shepheards plight â—ll other were both sheepe and shepheards lookes For both did shew by their dull heauy cheere They tooke no pleasure of the pleasant yeere â—e weeping went ay me that he should weepe â—hey hung their heads as they to weep would learn â—is heauy Heart did send forth sighings deepe â—hey in their bleating voyce did seeme to yearne He leane and pale their fleece was rough rent They pinde with paine and he with dolors spent â—is pleasant Pipe was broke alas the while â—nd former meriment was banisht quite â—is shepheards Crooke that him vpheld ere-while â—e erst had throwne away with great despite Tho leaning gainst a shrubbe that him sustained To th' earth sun birds trees Eccho thus he plained Thou all-forth-bringing earth though winter châ— With boystrous blasts blow off thy Mantle greeâ— And with his Snowe and hoary Frosts doe spill Thy Flora-pleasing flowers and kill them cleene Yet soone as Spring returnes againe To driue away thy Winters paine Thy Frost and Snowe Away doe goe Sweete Zephyres breath cold Boreas doth displace And fruitfull showers Reuiue thy flowers And nought but Ioy is seene in euery place But ah how long alas how long doth last My endlesse Winter without hope of Spring How haue my sighes my blustring sighes defaste The flowers and buds which erst my youth did brâ— Alas the tops that did aspire Lie troaden now in filthy mire Alas my head Is all bespread With too vntimely snow and eke my hart Al sence hath lost Through hardned frost Of colde Despaire that long hath bred my smart What though Soone-rising Torrents ouerflow With nought-regarding streams thy pleasant greeâ— And with their furious force do â—ay full lowe Thy drowned flowers how euer sweet they beâ— Soone fall those â—â—ouds as soone they rose For fury soone his force doth lose And then full eath Apolloes breath â—he cold yet drying North-wind so doth warme That by and by Thy Meades be dry â—nd grow more fruitfull by their former harme 〈◊〉 would the teares that Torrent-like do flowe 〈◊〉 downe my hollow cheekes with restlesse force â—ould once O that they could once calmer grow â—ould like to thine once cease their ceasles course Thine last not long mine still
her sight And shew hir e're I die my wretched case O then should I Contented dy But ah I dy and hope not so much grace With that his fainting legs to shrinke begun And let him sinke with gastly look to ground And there he lay as though his life were don Till that his Dog seeing that wofull stound With pitteous howling kissing with scraping Brought him again from that sweet-sowre escaping Then gan his Teares so swiftly for to flow As forst his Ey-lids for to giue them way Then blust'ring sighes too boyst'rously gan blow As his weake lips could not their fury stay And inward griefe withall so hugely sweld As tears sighes griefe had soon al words expeld At last when as his teares began to cease And weary sighes more calmely for to blowe As he began with words his griefe to ease And remnant of his broken plaint to show He spide the skie o're-spread with nightly clouds So home he went his flocke and him to shrowde Eubulus his Embleme VNI MIHI PERGAMA RESTANT Francis Dauison III. EGLOGVE Made long since vpon the death of Sir Phillip Sidney Thenot. Perin PERIN arreed what new mischance betide Hath raft thee of thy wonted meriment Faire feeds thy flock this pleasant spring beside Nor Loue I ween hath made thee discontent â—ild Age and Loue to meet in one consent Perin Ah Thenot where the Ioy of hart doth faile What maruaile there if mirth musick quaile See how the flowrets of the field do spring The Purple Rose the Lilly white as Snow With smell and colour for an Haruest King May serue to make vs yong againe I trow Yet all this pride is quickly laid full low Soon as the root is nipt with northerne cold What smell or beauty can we then behold Thenot. As good not heare as heard not vnderstand My borrell braines through eld beene all too dull Sike mister meaning nill by mee be scand All as my Face so wrinckled is my skull Then say me Perin by thy hope of wull And by thine Ewes blown bags and bagpipes sound So not one Aneling in thy flock be found Perin Ah Thenot by thine alderliefest Lasse Or whatsoeuer is more deere to thee No Bagpipe name let song and sollace passe Death hath vndon my flock my pipe and mee Dead is the Sheeps delight and Shepheards glee Broke is my Pipe and I my selfe forlorne My Sheep vnfed their fleeces rent and torne Thenot. I mickle muz'de such vncouth change to see My flockes refuz'de to feed yet hale they weare The tender Birds sate drooping on the tree The carelesse Lambs went wandring here there My selfe vnknowne a part of griefe did beare Ne wist I why yet heauy was my hart Vntimely Death was cause of all this smart Vp Perin vp aduaunce thy mournfull layes Sound loud thy pipe but sound in dolefull wise Perin Who else but Thenot can the Muses raise And teach them sing and dance in mournfull guisâ— My fingers stiffe my voice doth hoarsely rise Thenot. Ah where is Collin and his passing skill For him it sits our sorrow to fulfill Perin Tway sore extreames our Collin presse so neere Alas that such extreames should presse him so The want of wealth and losse of loue so deere Scarse can he breathe from vnder heapes of woe He that beares heau'n beares no such weight I trow Thenot. Hath he such skill in making all aboue And hath no skill to get or Wealth or Loue Perin Praise is the greatest prise that Poets gaine A simple gaine that feeds them ne're a whit The wanton lasse for whom he bare such paine â—ike running water loues to change and flit But if thee list to heare a sorry fit Which Cuddy could in dolefull verse endite Blow thou thy Pipe while I the same recite Thenot. â—inne when thou list all-be my skill but small â—y forward minde shall make amends for all Perin YEe Nimphs that bathe your bodies in this spring Your tender bodies white as driuen Snow Yee Virgins chaste which in this Groue doe sing Which neither griefe of Loue nor Death do know So may your streames runne cleere for ay So may your trees giue shade alway Depart a space And giue me place To wayle with griefe my restlesse woe alone For feare my cries Constraine your eyes To shed forth teares and help lament my mone And thou my Muse that whilome wont to ease Thy Maisters minde with layes of sweete delight Now change those tunes no ioy my hart can please Gone is the day come is the darkesome night Our Sunne close hid in cloudes doth lie We liue indeede but liuing die No light we see Yet wander wee We wander farre and neere without a guide And all astray We loose our way For in this world n'is such a Sunne beside Ye Shepheards Boyes that leade your flocks a field The whilst your sheepe feede safely round about â—reake me your Pipes that pleasant sound did yeeld â—â—ing now no more the Songs of Collin Clout Lament the end of all our ioy Lament the source of all annoy WILLY is dead That wont to leade Our flockes and vs in mirth and Shepheards glee Wel could he sing Wel dance and spring Of all the Shepheards was none such as hee How often hath his skill in pleasant Song Drawn al the water-nimphs from out their bowers How haue they laine the tender grasse along And made him Garlands gay of smelling flowers Phoebus himselfe that conquer'd Pan Striuing with Willy nothing wan Ne thinkes I see The time when hee â—luckt from his golden lockes the Laurell crowne And so to raise Our Willies praise â—edeckt his head and softly set him downe The learned Muses flockt to heare his skill â—nd quite forgot their water wood and mount They thought his Songs were done too quickly stil Of none but Willies Pipe they made account Hee sung they seemd inioy to flowe He ceast they seemd to weep for woe The Rurall rout All round about â—ike Bees came swarming thicke to heare him sing Ne could they thinke On meate or drinke While Willies musicke in their eares did ring But now alas such pleasant mirth is past Apollo weepes the Muses rend their haire No ioy on earth that any time can last See where his breathlesse corps lies on the beare That selfe same hand that reft his life Hath turned Shepheards peace to strife Our ioy is fled Our life is dead Our hope our help our glory all is gone Our Poets praise Our happy dayes And nothing left but griefe to thinke therâ—â—n What Thames what Seuerne or what westerne Seâ— Shall giue me floods of trickling teares to shed What comfort can my restlesse griefe appease O that mine eies were Fountaines in my head Ah Collin I lament thy case For thee remaines no hope of grace The best reliefe Of Poets griefe Is dead and wraptfull colde in filthy clay And nought remaines To ease our paines But hope of death to ridde vs hence away Phillis thine
twisted and vndone Nor yet is this chaste Beauties greatest ill For where it speaketh faire it there doth kill A Marble hart vnder an amorous looke Is of a flattering baite the murthering hooke For from a Ladies shining-frowning Eyes Deaths sable Darte and Cupids Arrow flies Since then from Chastity and Beauty spring Such muddy streams where each doth raign as king Let Tyrant Chastities vsurped Throane Bee made the seate of Beauties grace alone And let your Beauty bee with this suffiz'd That my harts Cittie is by it surpriz'd Raze not my Hart nor to your Beauty raise Blood-guilded Trophees of your Beauties praise For wisest Conquerors doo Townes desire On honourable termes and not with fyre SONNET XIII That he cannot leaue to loue though commanded HOw can my Loue in equitie bee blamed Still to importune though it ne'r obtayne Since though her face and voice will me refraine Yet by her Voyce and Face I am inflamed For when alas her face with frownes is framed To kill my Loue but to reuiue my payne And when her voice commands but all in vayne That loue both leaue to be and to bee named Her Syren voyce doth such enchantment moue And thogh she frown eu'n frowns so louely make her That I of force am forced still to loue Since then I must and yet can not forsake her My fruitles praiers shall cease in vaine to moue her But my deuoted Hart ne're cease to moue her SONNET XIIII He desires leaue to write of his Loue. MVst my deuoted Heart desist to loue her No loue I may but I may not confesse it What harder thing than loue and yet depresse it Loue most conceal'd doth most it selfe discouer Had I no pen to shew that I approue her Were I tongue-tide that I might not addresse it In Plaints and Prayr'es vnfained to expresse it Yet could I not my deepe affection couer Had I no pen my very teares would show it Which write my true affection in my face Were I tong-tide my sighs wold make her know it Which witnes that I grieue at my disgrace Since then though silent I my loue discouer O let my pen haue leaue to say I loue her Quid pluma leuius Puluis Quid puluere Ventus Quid vento Mulier Quid muliere Nihil Translated thus DVst is lighter than a Feather And the Winde more light than eather But a Womans fickle minde More than Feather Dust or Winde W. D. SONETS ODES ELEGIES and other POESIES Splendidis longum valedico nugis ANOMOS III. Sonnets for a Proeme to the Poems following That Loue onely made him a Poet and that all sortes of Verses both in Rime and Measure agree with his Lady SONNET I. SOme men they say are Poets borne by kinde And suck that science from their mothers brest An easie Arte that comes with so great rest And happy men to so good hap assignde In some desire of praise enflames the minde To clime with paine Parnassus double crest Some hope of rich Rewardes hath so possest That Gold in Castall Sands they seeke to finde Me neither Nature hath a Poet made Nor loue of Glory mou'de to learne the trade Nor thirst of Golde perswaded for to write For Natures graces are too fine for mee Praise like the Peacockes pride her selfe to see Desire of Gaine the basest mindes delight SONNET II. WHat mou'd me then say Loue for thou cāst tel Of thee I learn'd this skill if skill I haue Thou knowst the Muse whose help I alwais craue Is none of those that on Parnassus dwell My Muse is such as doth them all excell They all to her alone their cunning gaue To sing to dance to play to make so braue Thrice threefold Graces her alone befell From her do flow the streames that water mee Hers is the praise if I a Poet bee Her only looke both will and skill doth giue What maruaile then if I those lawes refuse Which other Poets in their making vse Since by her lookes I write by which I liue SONNET III. THus am I free from lawes that other binde Who diuerse verse to diuerse matter frame All kinde of Stiles doo serue my Ladies name What they in all the world in her I finde The lofty Verse doth shew her noble minde By which shee quencheth Loues enraged flame Sweet Liricks sing her heauenly beauties fame The tender Elege speakes her pitty kinde In mournefull Tragicke Verse for her I die In Comicke shee reuiues me with her eye All serue my Goddesse both for mirth and mone Each looke she casts doth breede both peace strife Ech word she speakes doth cause both death life Out of my selfe I liue in her alone ODE I. Where his Lady keepes his hart SWeete Loue mine only treasure For seruice long vnfained Wherein I nought haue gained Vouchsafe this little pleasure To tell mee in what parte My Lady keepes my Harte If in her haire so slender Like golden nets vntwined Which fire and art haue fined Her thrall my hart I render For euer to abide With locks so dainty tide If in her Eyes shee binde it Wherein that fire was framed By which it is inflamed I dare not looke to finde it I only wish it sight To see that pleasant light But if her Breast haue dained With kindnes to receiue it I am content to leaue it Though death thereby were gained Then Lady take your owne That liues for you alone To her Eyes FAine would I learne of thee thou murth'ring Eie Whether thy glance bee fire or else a dart For with thy looke in flames thou mak'st mee frie And with the same thou strik'st mee to the hart Pierst with thy lookes I burne in fire And yet those lookes I still desire The flie that buzzeth round about the flame Knows not poore Soule she gets her death therby I see my death and seeing seeke the same And seeking finde and finding chuse to die That when thy lookes my life haue slaine Thy lookes may giue mee life againe Turne then to mee those sparkling Eyes of thine And with their firy glances pierce my hart Quench not my light lest I in darknes pine Strike deepe and spare not pleasant is the smart So by thy lookes my life bee spilt Kill mee as often as thou wilt ODE II. The more fauour he obtaines the more he desires AS soone may water wipe me drie And fire my heate allay As you with fauour of your eye Make hotte desire decay The more I haue The more I craue The more I craue the more desire As piles of wood encrease the fire The sencelesse stone that from on hie Descends to Earth below With greater haste it selfe doth plie The lesse it hath to goe So feeles desire Encrease of fire That still with greater force doth burne Till all into it selfe it turne The greater fauour you bestow The sweeter my delight And by delight Desire doth grow And growing gathers might The lesse remaines The more my paines To see
still the farther off the more desire The absent fire doth burne with hotter paine My Ladies presence burnt me with desire Her absence turnes me into flaming fire Whoso hath seene the flame that burneth bright By outward colde in narrow roome supprest Encrease in heate and rage with greater might May ghesse what force of fire torments my brest So run the swelling streames with double force Where locks or piles are set to stay their course For when my heart perceiu'd her parting neere By whose sweete sight he liues that else should die It cloasde it selfe to keepe those beames so cleere Which from her looke had pierst it through the Eie The firy beams which would breake out so faine By seeking vent encrease my burning paine But if my Deere returne aliue and found That these mine eyes may see her beautie bright My Hart shall spread with ioy that shall abound And open wide receiuing cleerer light Shee shall recouer that which I possesse And I thereby enioy no whit the lesse ODE V. Petition to haue her leaue to die WHen will the fountaine of my Teares be drie When will my sighes be spent When will Desire agree to let me die When will thy hart relent It is not for my life I pleade Since death the way to rest doth leade But stay for thy consent Lest thou be discontent For if my selfe without thy leaue I kill My Ghost will neuer rest So hath it sworne to worke thine only will And holds that euer best For since it only liues by thee Good reason thou the ruler bee Then giue me leaue to die And shew thy powre thereby THe frozen Snake opprest with heaped snowe By strugling hard gets out her tender head â—nd spies far off from where shee lies belowe The winter Sun that from the North is fled But all in vaine shee lookes vpon the light Where heate is wanting to restore her might What doth it helpe a wretch in prison pent â—ong time with biting hunger ouer-prest â—o see without or smell within the sent â—f daintie fare for others tables drest Yet Snake and pris'ner both behold the thing The which but not with sight might coÌ„fort bring â—ch is my state or worse if worse may bee â—y heart opprest with heauy frost of care â—ebar'd of that which is most deere to mee â—ld vp with colde and pinde with euill fare And yet I see the thing might yeeld reliefe And yet the sight doth breed my greater girefe Thisbe saw her louer through the wall â—â—d saw thereby shee wanted that shee saw â—â—d so I see and seeing want withall â—â—d wanting so vnto my drath I draw â—nd so my death were twenty times my frend â—f with this Verse my hated life might end ODE VI. IE my decay be your encrease If my distresse bee your delight If warre in me procure your peace If wrong to me to you be right I would decay distresse warre wrong Might end the life that ends so long Yet if by my decay you grow When I am spent your growth is past If from my griefe your Ioy do flow When my griefe ends your Ioy flies fast Then for your sake though to my paine I striue to liue to die full faine For if I die my warre must cease Then can I suffer wrong no more My warre once done farewel your peace My wrong your right doth still restore Thus for your right I suffer wrong And for your peace my warre prolong But since no thing can long indure That sometime hath not needefull rest What can my life your ioy assure If still I waile with griefe opprest The strongest stomacke faints at last For want of ease and due repast My restlesse sighes breake out so fast That time to breathe they quite deny Mine Eyes so many teares haue cast That now the springs themselues are dry Then grant some little ease from paine Vntill the springs bee full againe The Gyant whom the Vulture gnawes Vntill his heart be growne hath peace And Sisyphus by hellish lawes Whilste that the stone rowles downe doth cease But all in vaine I striue for rest Which breedes more sorrow in my brest Let my Decay bee your encrease Let my distresse bee your delight Let warre in mee procure your peace Let wrong in mee to you bee right That by my Griefe your Ioy may liue Vouchsafe some little rest to giue ODE VII CLose your lids vnhappy Eyes From the sight of such a change â—oue hath learned to despise â—elfe-conceit hath made him strange Inward now his sight he turneth With himselfe in loue hee burneth If abroad he beautie spie As by chance he lookes abroad Or it is wrought by his eye Or forc'de out by Painters fraude Saue himselfe none faire he deemeth That himselfe too much esteemeth â—oy disdaine hath kindnes place Kindnes forc'de to hide his head True Desire is counted base Hope with hope is hardly fed Loue is thought a fury needlesse Hee that hath it shal die speedlesse Then mine eies why gaze you so Beautie scornes the Teares you shed Death you seeke to end my woe O that you of death were sped But with Loue hath death conspired To kill none whom Loue haue fired CVpid at length I spie thy crafty wile Though for a time thou didst me sore beguile When first thy shaft did wound my tender hart â—t toucht mee light mee thought I felt some paine Some litle prick at first did make mee smart But yet that griefe was quickly gone againe â—ull small account I made of such a sore As now doth ranckle inward more and more So poyson first the sinewes lightly straines Then straies and after spreads through al the vaines No otherwise then he that prickt with thorne Starts at the first and feeles no other griefe As one whose hart so litle hurt did scorne And deigned not to seek despis'd reliefe At last when rest doth after trauaile come That litle pricke the joynt with paine doth numme What may I thinke the cause of this thy craft That at the first thou stick'st not deepe thy shaft If at the first I had thy stroke espi'de Alas I thought thou wouldst not dally so To keepe my selfe all wayes I would haue tride At least I thinke I might haue cur'd my woe Yet truth to say I did suspect no lesse And knew it too at least I so did ghesse I saw and yet would willingly be blinde I felt the sting yet flatt'red still my minde And now too late I know my former guilt And seeke in vaine to heale my curelesse sore My life I doubt my health I know is spilt A iust reward for dallying so before For I that would not when I might haue ease No maruell though I cannot when I please Clipeum post vulnera A Paraphrasticall translation of Petrarkes Sonnet beginning S' Amor non è che dunque è quel ch'io sento IF Loue bee nothing but an idle name A vaine deuise of foolish Poets skill A fained fire
wonder As if chill coldenes frorne had them down to the bottome But for I wote too well my slender skill to be nothing Heere will I quite forsweare both Verse and Muse in an anger Lest hap my rudenesse disgrace thy glory by praising Dignum laude virum Musa vetat mori To Time ETernall time that wastest without waste That art and art not diest and liuest still Most slowe of al and yet of greatest haste Both ill and good and neither good nor ill How can I iustly praise thee or dispraise Darke are thy nights but bright cleer thy daies Both free and scarce thou giu'st and tak'st againe Thy wombe that all doth breed is Tombe to all What so by thee hath life by thee is slaine From thee do all things rise by thee they fall Constant inconstant moouing standing still Was is shall bee do thee both breed and kill I loose thee while I seeke to finde thee out The farther off the more I follow thee The faster hold the greater cause of doubt Was is I know but shall I cannot see All things by thee are measur'de thou by none All are in thee thou in thy selfe alone A Meditation vpon the frailty of this Life O Trifling toyes that tosse the braines While loathsome life doth last O wished wealth O sugred ioyes O life when death is past Who loaths exchange of losse with gaine Yet loath we deathe as hel What woefull wight would wish his woe Yet wish we here to dwell O fancy fraile that feedes on earth And stayes on slipp'ry ioyes O noble minde O happy man That can contemne such toyes Such toyes as neither perfect are And can not long endure Our greatest skill our sweetest ioy Vncertaine and vnsure or life is short and learning long All pleasure mixt with woe â—icknes and sleepe steale time vnseene And ioyes doe come and goe Thus learning is but learn'd by halfes And ioy enioy'd no while â—hat serues to shew thee what thou want'st This helpes thee to beguile But after death is perfect skill And ioy without decay WheÌ„n sinne is gone that blindes our eyes And steales our ioyes away No crowing cocke shall raise vs vp To spend the day in vaine No weary labour shall vs driue To goe to bed againe But for wee feele not wee want Nor know not what we haue Wee loue to keepe the bodies life We loathe the Soule to saue A Dialogue betweene the Soule and the Body Soule â—Yme poore Soule whom bound in sinful chains This wretched body keepes against my will â—dy Aye mee poore Body whom for all my paines This froward soule causlesse condemneth stil Causles whenas thou striu'st to sin each day â—ule Causles whenas I striue thee to obay â—ule Thou art the meanes by which I fall to sin â—dy Thou art the cause that set'st this means awork â—ule No part of thee that hath not faultie bin â—ule I shew the poyson that in thee doth lurke â—ule I shall be pure when so I part from thee So were I now but that thou stainest mee Sapphicks Vpon the Passion of Christ HAtred eternall furious reuenging Mercilesse raging bloody persecuting Slanderous speeches odious reuilings Causelesse abhorring Impious scoffings by the very Abiects Dangerous threatning by the Priests annointed Death full of torment in a shamefull order Christ did abide here Hee that in glory was aboue the Angels Changed his glory for an earthly Carkasse Yeelded his glory to a sinfull out-cast Glory refusing Mee that in bondage many sinnes retained Hee for his goodnes for his only goodnes Brought from hell-torments to the ioyes of heauen Not to bee numbred Dead in offences by his ayde reuiued Quickned in spirit by the grace hee yeeldeth Sound then his prayses to the worlds amasement Thankfully singing ANOMOS DIVERSE POEMS OF SVNDRY AUTHORS A Hymne in prayse of Musicke PRayse Pleasure Profit is that three-fold bâ— Which tiesmeÌ„s minds more fast theÌ„ Gard Each one some drawes al three none can wâ— Of force conioyn'd Conquest is hardly got Then Musicke may of harts a Monarke bee Wherein Praise Pleasure Profit so agree Praise-worthy Musicke is for God it prayseth And pleasant for brute beasts therein delight Great profit from it slowes for why it raiseth The minde ouerwhelmed with rude passions might When against reason passions fond rebell Musicke doth that confirme and these expell If Musicke did not merit endlesse prayse Would heau'nly Spheres delight in siluer round If ioyous pleasure were not in sweet layes Would they in Court and Country so aâ—ound And profitable needs wee must that call Which pleasure linkt with praise doth bring to al Heroicke minds with praises most incited Seeke praise in Musicke and therein excell God man beasts birds with Musicke are delighte And pleasant t' is which pleaseth all so well No greater profit is then selfe content And this with Musick bring and care When Antique Poets Musicks praises tell They say it beasts did please and stones did moue To proue more dul then stones then beasts more fel Those men which pleasing Musick did not Loue. They fain'd it Cities built and States defended To shew the profit great on it depended Sweet birds poore mens Musitians neuer slake To sing sweet Musicks prayses day and night The dying Swans in Musicke pleasure take To shew that it the dying can delight In sicknes health peace war wee do it need Which proues sweet Musicks profit doth exceed But I by niggard praysing do disprayse Prayse-worthy Musicke in my worthles Ryme Ne can the pleasing profit of sweet layes Any saue learned Muses well define Yet all by these rude lines may clearly see Prayse Pleasure Profit in sweet Musicke bee I. D. Ten Sonnets to Philomel SONNET I. Vpon Loues entring by his Eares OFt did I heare our Eyes the passage were By which Loue entred to auaile our hearts Therefore I guarded them and voyd of feare Neglected the defence of other parts Loue knowing this the vsuall way forsooke And seeking found a by-way by mine Eare At which hee entring my Hart pris'ner tooke And vnto thee sweet Philomel did beare Yet let my hart thy hart to pittie moue Whose paine is great although smal fault appeare First it lies bound in fettering chaines of Loue Then each day it is rackt with hope and feare And with loues flames t' is euermore consumed Only because to loue thee it presumed SONNET II. O Why did Fame my Hart to Loue betray By telling my Deares vertue and perfection Why did my Traytor Eares to it conuay That Syren-song cause of my Harts infection Had I bene deafe or Fame her gifts concealed Then had my Hart been free from hopeles Loue Or were my state likewise by it reuealed Well might it Philomel to pitty moue TheÌ„ shold she kno how loue doth make me laÌ„guish Distracting mee twixt hope and dreadfull feare Then shold she kno my care my plants anguish All which for her deere sake I meekely beare Yea I could quietly deaths paynes abide
So that shee knew that for her sake I dide SONNET III. Of his owne and his Mistris sicknes at one time SIckenes entending my Loue to betray Before I should sight of my Deare obtaine Did his pale collours in my face display Lest that my Fauour might her fauour gaine Yet not content herewith like meanes it wrought My Philomels bright beauty to deface And Natures glory to disgrace it sought That by conceiued Loue it might displace But my firme Loue could this assault well beare Which Vertue had not beauty for his ground And yet bright beames of beauty did appeare Throgh sicknes vail which made my loue abouÌ„d If sicke thought I her beauty so excell How matchlesse would it bee if shee were well SONNET IIII. Another of her Sicknes and Recouery PAle Death himselfe did Loue my Philomel When hee her Vertues and rare beutie saw Therefore hee sicknesse sent which should expell His Riuall life and my Decre to him draw But her bright beauty dazeled so his Eyes That his dart life did misse though her it hitt Yet not therewith content new meanes hee tries To bring her vnto Death and make life flitt But Nature soone perceiuing that hee meant To spoyle her only Phoenix her chiefe pride Assembled all her force and did preuent The greatest mischiefe that could her betide So both our liues and loues Nature defended For had shee dide my loue and life had ended SONNET V. Allusion to Theseus voyage to Crete against the Minotaure MY Loue is sayl'd against dislike to fight Which like vild monster threatens his decay The ship is Hope which by Desires great migh Is swiftly borne towards the wished Bay The company which with my Loue doth fare Though met in one is a dissenting crew They are Ioy Greefe and neuer sleeping Care And doubt which ne'r beleeues good news for trâ— Black feare the Flag is which my ship doth beare Which Deere take downe if my Loue victor bâ— And let white Comfort in his place appeare When Loue victoriously returnes to mee Lest I from rocke Despayre come tumbling down And in a Sea of Teares bee forc't to drowne SONNET VI. Vpon her looking secretly out of a window as hee passed by ONce did my Philomel reflect on mee Her Christall pointed Eyes as I passt by Thinking not to be seene yet would mee see But soone my hungry Eyes their foode did spie â—as my Deere couldst thou suppose that face Which needs not enuy Phoebus cheefest pride Could secret bee although in secret place And that transparaÌ„t glas such beams could hide â—ut if I had beene blinde yet Loues hot flame Kindled in my poore heart by thy bright Eye Did plainely shew when it so neere thee came By more the vsuall heate then cause was nie So though thou hidden wert my hart and eye Did turne to thee by mutuall Sympathy SONNET VII WHen time nor place would let me often view Natures chiefe Mirror and my sole delight Her liuely Picture in my hart I drew That I might it behold both day and night But shee like Phillips Son scorning that I Should portray her wanting Apelles Art Commaunded Loue who nought dare hir deny To burne the Picture which was in my Hart. The more Loue burn'd the more her picture shin'd The more it shin'de the more my hart did burnd So what to hurt her picture was assign'd To my Harts ruine and decay did turne Loue could not burne the Saint it was diuine And therefore fir'd my hart the Saints poore shrine SONNET VIII WHen as the Sun eclipsed is some say It thunder lightning raine wind portendeâ— And not vnlike but such things happen may Sith like effects my Sun eclipsed sendeth Witnes my throat made hoars with thundring crie And hart with loues hot flashing lightnings fire Witnes the showers which stil fal from mine eie And brest with sighs like stormy winds neare riueâ— Shine then once againe sweete Sun on mee And with thy beames dissolue clouds of dispair Whereof these raging Meteors framed bee In my poore hart by absence of my faire So shalt thou proue thy Beames thy heate thy lighâ— To match the Sun in glory grace and might SONNET IX Vpon sending her a Gold Ring with this Posie Pure and Endlesse IF you would know the Loue which you I beare Compare it with the Ring which your faire hand Shal make more pretious when you shal it weare So my Loues Nature you shall vnderstand Is it of mettall pure so you shall proue My Loue which ne're disloyal thought did stain Hath it no end so endles is my Loue Vnlesse you it destroy with your disdaine Doth it the purer waxe the more t is tride So doth my Loue yet herein they dissent That whereas Gold the more t is purifi'd By waxing lesse doth shew some part is spent My Loue doth wax more pure by you more trying And yet encreaseth in the purifying SONNET X. MY Cruell Deere hauing captiu'de my hart And bound it fast in Chaynes of restles Louâ— Requires it out of bondage to depart Yet is shee sure from her it cannot moue Draw back sayd shee your hopelesse loue from mâ— Your worth requireth a more worthy place Vnto your sute though I cannot agree Full many will it louingly embrace It may bee so my Deere but as the Sun When it appeares doth make the stars to vanish So when your selfe into my thoughts do run All others quite out of my Hart you bannish The beames of your Perfections shine so bright That straightway they dispell all others light Melophilus A Hymne in Praise of Neptune OF Neptunes Empyre let vs sing At whose command the waues obay To whom the Riuers tribute pay Downe the high mountaines sliding To whom the skaly Nation yeelds Homage for the Cristall fields Wherein they dwell And euery Sea-god paies a Iem Yeerely out of his watry Cell To decke great Neptunes Diadem The Trytons dauncing in a ring Before his Pallace gates doo make The water with the Ecchoes quake Like the great Thunder sounding The Sea-Nymphes chaunt their Accents shrill And the Syrens taught to kill With their sweet voyce Make eu'ry ecchoing Rocke reply Vnto their gentle murmuring noyse The prayse of Neptunes Empery Th. Campton This Hymne was sung by Amphitryte Thametis aâ—â— other Sea-Nimphes in Grayes-Inne Marke at tâ—â— Court 1564. Of his Mistresses Face ANd would you see my Mistres face It is a flowry garden-place Where knots of beauty haue such grace That al is worke and no where space It is a sweet delicious Morne Where day is breeding neuer borne It is a Meadow yet vnshorne Which thousand flowers do adorne It is the Heauens bright reflexe Weake eyes to dazle and to vexe It is th'Idaea of her sex Enuie of whom doth world perplex It is a face of death that smiles Pleasing though it kill the whiles Where death and loue in pretty wiles Each other mutually beguiles It is fayre Beauties freshest youth It is the fain'd Eliziums truth
The spring that wintred Harts renu'th And this is that my Soule pursu'th Th. Campion Vpon his Palenesse BLame not my Cheeks though pale with loue theâ— bee The kindly heate into my hart is flowne To cheerish it that is dismaid by thee Who art so cruell and vnstedfast growne For Nature cald for by distressed hartes Neglects and quite forsakes the outward partes But they whose cheeks with careles blood are staind Nurse not one sparke of Loue with their harts And when they woo they speake with passion fainâ— For their fat loue lies in their outward partes But in their brests wher loue his court shuld hold Poore Cupid sits and blowes his nayles for cold Th. Campion Of Corinnaes singing WHen to her Lute Corinna sings Her voyce reuiues the leaden strings And doth in highest notes appeere As any challeng'd Eccho cleere But when shee doth of mourning speake Eu'n with her sighes the strings do breake And as her Lute doth liue or die Led by her passions so must I For when of pleasure shee doth sing My thoughts enioy a sodaine spring But if she doe of sorrow speake Eu'n from my heart the strings doe breake Th Campion A Dialogue betwixt the Louer and his Lady LAdy my flame still burning And my consuming anguish Doth grow so great that life I feele to languish Then let your Heart be moued To end my griefe and yours so long time proued And quench the heate that my chiefe part so fireth Yeelding the fruit that faithfull loue requireth Her Answere SWeete Lord your flame still burning And your consuming anguish Cannot be more than mine in which I languish No more your Heart is moued To end my griefe and yours so long time proued But if I yeelde and so your loue decreaseth Then I my Louer loose and your loue ceaseth Ignoto An Elegie O Faithles World and thy most faithles part A Womans Harte The true Shop of varietie where sittes Nothing but fittes And feauers of Desire and pangs of Loue Which toyes remoue Why was shee borne to please or I to trust Words writ in dust Suffring her eyes to gouerne my Despaire My paine for Aire And fruit of time rewarded with vntruth The food of youth Vntrue shee was ytt I belieue'd her eyes Instructed spies Till I was taught that Loue was but a Schoole To breed a foole Or sought she more then Triumphs of deniall To see a tryall How farre her Smiles commanded my weakenes Yeeld and confesse Excuse not now thy folly nor her Nature Blush and endure Aswell thy shame as passions that were vaine And thinke thy gaine To know that Loue lodg'd in a Womans Brest Is but a Ghest H. W. COnceipt begotten by the eyes Is quickly borne and quickly dies For while it seekes our harts to haue Meane while there Reason makes his graue For many things the eyes approue Which yet the hart doth seldome loue For as the seedes in spring time sowne Die in the ground ere they be growne Such is conceipt whose rooting failes As childe that in the cradle quailes Or else within the Mothers wombe Hath his beginning and his tombe Affection followes Fortunes wheeles And soone is shaken from her heeles â—or following beautie or estate Hir liking still is turn'd to hate â—or all affections haue their change And fancie onely loues to range Desire himselfe runnes out of breath And getting doth but gaine his death Desire nor reason hath nor rest And blinde doth sildome chuse the best Desire attain'd is not desire â—ut as the finders of the fire As shippes in ports desir'd are drownd As fruit once ripe then falles to ground As flies that seeke for flames are brought To cinders by the flames they sought So fond Desire when it attaines The life expires the woe remaines And yet some Poets faine would proue Affection to be perfit loue And that Desire is of that kinde No lesse a passion of the minde As if wilde beasts and men did seeke To like to loue to chuse alike W. R. MADRIGAL FAustina hath the fairer face And Phillida the fairer grace Both haue mine eie enritched This sings full sweetely with her voyce Her fingers make as sweete a noyse Both haue mine eare bewitched Ayme sith Fates haue so prouided My heart alas must be diuided To his Ladies Garden being absent far from her GArden more then Eden blessed Art thou thus to haue thy bowers Free'd from Winter and still dressed With her faces Heau'n-set flowers Happy too are these thy Allies Where her faire feete deigne to tred Which departing Earths low Vallies Shall the Milky way be led Thy Trees whose Armes hee embraced â—nd whose fruit her lids did kis â—n whose vertuous minde well placed â—he rare Tree of knowledge is â—appy are So thy Birds bee Whom shee learnes to sing by Art Who in heauenly harmonie With the Angels beares a part â—appy blest and fortunate â—owers Allies Trees and Burds â—â—t my most vnhappy stare â—â—r surmounts all reach of words T. Sp. Vpon his Ladies Sicknesse of the Small Pockes CRuel and vnpartiall Sicknesse Sword of that Arch-Monarke Death That subdues all strength by weakenesse Whom all Kings pay tribute breath Are not these thy steps I tracke An the pure snow of her face When thou didst attempt to sacke Her liues fortresse and it rase Th'Heauenly Honny thou didst sucke From her Rose Cheekes might suffize Why then didst thou mar and plucke Those deere flowers of rarest prize Mean'st thou thy Lord to present With those ritch spoyles and adorne Leauing mee them to lament And in Inkes blacke teares thus mourne No I le in my Bosome weare them And close locke them in my hart Thence nor time nor death shall beare them Till I from my selfe do part Th. Sp. A Reporting Sonnet Her Face her Tongue her Witt so fayre so sweet so sharpe First bent then drew now hitt mine Eye mine Eare my Hart Mine Eye mine Eare my Hart to like to learne to loue Her face her tongue her witt doth leade doth teach doth moue Her face her tongue her witt with beames with sound with Art Doth blinde doth charme doth rule mine Eye mine Eare my Hart Mine Eye mine eare my hart with life with hope with skill Her face her tongue her witt doth feede doth feast doth fill O face O tongue O witt with frownes with checks with smart Wring not vexe not wound not mine Eye mine eare my hart This Eye this eare this Hart shall ioy shall binde shall sweare Your face your tongue your witt to serue to loue to feare SONNET ONly sweet loue afforde mee but thy hart Then close thine eies within their iuory couer That they to mee no beame of light impart Although they shine on all thy other louers As for thy lip of ruby cheeks of rose Though I haue kist them oft with sweet Content â—â—â—n content that sweet content to lose If thy sweet will will bar me I assent Let me not touch thy hand but through thy gloue