WHAT fudden chance or change is this,
That doth bereave my quiet rest?
What furly cloud eclips'd my bliss?
What sprite doth rage within my
Such fainty qualms I never found,
Till first I faw this western ground.
My liftlefs limbs do pine away,
Because my heart is dead within;
All lively heat I feel decay,
And deadly cold his room doth win.
My humours all are out of frame,
I freeze amid the burning flame.
I know the time, I know the place,
Both when and where my eye did view
That novel shape, that friendly face,
That fo doth make my heart to rue.
O happy time, if the incline!
If not, woe worth these lucklefs eyne!
I love the feat where she did fit,
I kifs the grafs where she did tread ;
Methinks I fee that face as yet,
And eyes that all these turmoils bred.
I envy, that this feat, this ground,
Such friendly grace and favour found.
I dreamt of late, (God grant the dream
Portend my good!) that she did meet
Me on this green, by yonder ftream,
And, fmiling, did me friendly greet. Whe'er wand'ring dreams be juft or wrong, mean to try ere it be long.
But yonder comes my faithful friend,
That like affaults hath often tried, On his advice I will depend,
Whe'er I fhall win or be denied. And look, what counsel he fhall give, 'That will I do, whe'er die or live.
FIND it true, that some have said,
"It's hard to love and to be wife."
For wit is oft by love betray'd,
And brought asleep by fond devise.
Sith faith no favour can procure,
My patience muft my pain endure.
As faithful friendship mov'd my tongue, Your fecret love and favour crave, And, as I never did you wrong,
This last request so let me have; Let no man know that I did move, Let no man know that I did love.
That will I fay, this is the worst,
When this is faid, then all is paft;
Thou, proud Aviza, wert the first,
Thou, hard Aviza, art the last.
Though thou in forrow make me dwell,
Yet love will make me with thee well.
COME live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we fit upon the rocks,
And fee the fhepherds feed their flocks;
By fhallow rivers, to whofe falls
Melodious birds fing madrigals.
There will I make thee beds of roses,
With a thousand fragrant pofies;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle,
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull ;
Slippers lin'd choicely for the cold,
With buckles of the pureft gold;
A belt of ftraw and ivy buds,
With coral clafps and amber ftuds:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
The fhepherd fwains shall dance and fing,
For thy delight, each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
FROM ENGLAND'S PARNASSUS.
I WALKED along a stream, for pureness rare,
Brighter than funshine, for it did acquaint
The dulleft fight with all the glorious prey,
That in the pebble-paved channel lay,
No molten chrystal, but a richer mine,
E'en nature's rareft alchemy ran there,
Diamonds refolv'd, and fubftance more divine,
Through whofe bright gliding current might ap-
A thousand naked nymphs, whofe ivory shine,
Enamelling the banks, made them more dear
Than ever was that glorious palace-gate,
Where the day-fhining fun in triumph fate.
Upon this brim, the eglantine and rose,
The tamarisk, olive, and the almond tree,
As kind companions in one union grows,
Folding their twind'ring arms, as oft we see
Turtle-taught lovers, either other clofe,
Lending to dulnefs feeling sympathy.
And as a coftly vallance o'er a bed,
So did their garland tops the brook o'erfpread,
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