Samela

Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan

The absence of fair Rosalyne;
Since for a fair there's fairer none,

Nor for her virtues so divine,

Heigh ho! fair Rosalyne :

Heigh ho! my heart, would God that she were mine!

Thomas Lodge

L'

IKE to Diana in her summer weed,

Girt with crimson robe of brightest dye,
Goes fair Samela;

Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed,
When washed by Arethusa Fount they lie,
Is fair Samela;

As fair Aurora in her morning grey,

Decked with the ruddy glister of her love,
Is fair Samela;

Like lovely Thetis on a calmèd day,

Whenas her brightness Neptune's fancy move,

Shines fair Samela;

Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassy streams,
Her teeth are pearl, the breasts are ivory

Of fair Samela;

Her cheeks, like rose and lily, yield forth gleams,
Her brow's bright arches framed of ebony,

Thus fair Samela.

Passeth fair Venus in her bravest hue,

And Juno in the show of majesty,

For she's Samela.

My Luve

Pallas in wit; all three, if you well view,
For beauty, wit, and matchless dignity
Yield to Samela.

Julia

YOU are a tulip seen to-day,

But, dearest, of so short a stay,

That where you grew scarce man can say.

You are a lovely July flower,
Yet one rude wind or ruffling shower
Will force you hence, and in an hour.

You are a sparkling rose i' th' bud,
Yet lost ere that chaste flesh and blood
Can show where you or grew or stood.

From which each throws a dart
That kindleth soft sweet fire
Within my sighing heart,
Possessed by desire;

No sweeter life I try

Than in her love to die.

The lily in the field,

That glories in his white,
For pureness now must yield,
And render up his right.

Heaven pictured in her face
Doth promise joy and grace.

Fair Cynthia's silver light
That beats on running streams,
Compares not with her white,
Whose hairs are all sunbeams.

So bright my nymph doth shine
As day unto my eyne.

With this there is a red,
Exceeds the damask-rose,
Which in her cheeks is spread
Where every favour grows;

In sky there is no star
But she surmounts it far.

Diaphenia

This pleasant lily white,
This taint of roseate red,
This Cynthia's silver light,
This sweet fair Dea spread,

These sunbeams in mine eye,

These beauties make me die.

Earl of Oxenford

DIAPH

IAPHENIA, like the daffadowndilly,
White as the sun, fair as the lily,

Heigho, how I do love thee!

I do love thee as my lambs

Are beloved of their dams;

How blest were I if thou wouldst prove me !

Diaphenia, like the spreading roses,
That in thy sweets all sweets encloses,
Fair sweet, how I do love thee!

I do love thee as each flower

Loves the sun's life-giving power;

For dead, thy breath to life might move me.

Diaphenia, like to all things blessèd
When all thy praises are expressèd,

Dear joy, how I do love thee!

As the birds do love the Spring,
Or the bees their careful king:

Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me !

H. Constable