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THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM.
| Hot was the day; she hotter that did look Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
For his approach, that often there had been. 'Gainst whom the world could not hold argument,
Anon be comes, and throws his mantle by,
And stood stark naked on the brook's green brinu; Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye,
Yet not so wistly as this queen on him :
He, spying her, bouncū in, whereas he stood;
O Jove, quoth she, why was not I a flood ?
Mild as a dove. but neither true nor trusty;
Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle ; If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty : To lose an oath, to win a paradise ? *
A lily pale, with damask die to grace her,
None fairer, nor none falser to deface ber.
Her lips to mine how often hath she joind, Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook,
Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing! With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green,
How many tales to please me hath she coin'd, Did court the lad with many a lovely look,
Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing! Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen. Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings, She told him stories to delight his ear ;
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings She show'd him favours to allure his eye; To win his heart, she touch'd him here and there : She burn'd with love, as straw with fire flameth, Touches so soft still conquer chastity.
She burn'd out love, as soon as straw out bumeth; But whether unripe years did want conceit,
She fram'd the love, and yet she foild the framing, Or he refus'u to take her figur'd profler,
She hade love last, and yet she fell a turning. The tender nibbler would not touch the bait,
Was this a lover, or a lecher whether
Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.
If music and sweet poetry agree,
As they must needs, the sister and the brother, If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me, O never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd : Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other. Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll constant prove; Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers Upon the lute doth ravish human sense ; bow'd.
Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such, Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, As, passing all conceit, needs no defence. Where all those pleasures live that art can comprehend. | Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; That Phæbus' lute, the queen of music, makes; Well learned is that tongue that well can thee com- And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd,
Whenas himself to singing he betakes. All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; One god is god of both, as poets feign; Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire : One knight loves both, and both in thee remain. Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his dreadful
thunder, Which (not to anger bent) is music and sweet fire.
Fair was the morn, when the fair queen of love, Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong, To sing the heavens' praise with such an earthly Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dore, tongue.b
For Adon's sake, a youngster proud and wild ;
Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill: Scarce had the sin dried up the dewy mom,
Anon Adonis comes with horn and bounds; And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade,
She, silly queen, with more than love's good will, When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,
Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds: A longing tarriance for Adonis made,
Once, quoth she, did I see a fair sweet youth Under an osier growing by a brook,
Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a buar. brook where Adon used to cool his spleen,
Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth!
See in my thigli, quoth she, here was the sore. * The foregoing Sonnet appears, with some variations, in She showed hers; he saw more wounds than me • Lore's Labour's Lost,' the first edition of which was printed
And blushing tled, and left her all alone in 1598.
b This Sonnet also occurs in ‘Love's Labour's Lost,' in which Copy there are variations in several lines.
! The second line is lost.
Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck’d, soon vaded,"
Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree,
And falls, through wind, before the fall should be. I
weep for thee, and yet no cause I have;
O yes, dear iriend, I pardon crave of thee ;
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good,
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour. And as goods lost are seld or never found, As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh, As flowers dead lie witherd on the ground, As broken glass no cement can redress,".
So beauty, blemishd once, for ever 's lost, In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.
Venus, with Adonis o sitting by her,
Ah! that I had my lady at this bay,
Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share:
Farewell, quoth she, and come again to-morrow
Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow. Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile, In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether : 'T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile, 'T may be, again to make me wander thither :
Wander, a word for shadows like myself,
Crabbed age and youth
Cannot live together; Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care : Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather; Youth like sunimer brave,
Age like winter bare.
Youth is nimble, age is lame :
Youth is wild, and age is tame.
O, nıy love, my love is young!
For metninks thou stay'st too long.
Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east !
Wbile Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,
And wish her lays were tuned like the lark; For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty, And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night: The night so pack’d, I post unto my pretty ; Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight:
Sorrow chang'd to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow,
For why? she sighi d, and hade me come to-morrow. Were I with her, the night would post too soon ; But now are minutes added to the hours; To spite me now, each minute seems a moon; 6 Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers ! Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now
borrow; Short, night, to-night, and length thyself to-morrow.
SONNETS TO SUNDRY NOTES OF MUSIC.
It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three, That liked of ber master as well as well might be, Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest that eye
But one must be refused, more mickle was the pain, That nothing could be used, to turn them both to gain, For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with
disdain : Alas, she could not help it!
Her fancy fell a turning. Lung was the combat doubtful, that love with love did
fight, To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant knight: To put in practice either, alas it was a spite
Unto the silly damsel. • Voded_faded.
• This Sonnet is found in “ Fidessa,' by B. Griffin, 1596. There are great variations in that copy.
* In the twenty-ninth volume of the 'Gentleman's Magazine a copy of this poem is given, as from an ancient manuscript, in which there are the following variations :
“ And as goods lost are seld or never found,
As faded gloss no rubbing will ercite,
As broken glass no cement can unite." 6 A moon. The original has an hour evidently a misprint, The emendation of moon, in the sense of month, is hy Steevens, and it ought to atone for some faults of the commeniator
Thus art, with arms contending, was victor of the day, | Herds stand weeping,
All our merry meetings on the plains,
All our evening sport from us is fled, Love, whose month was ever May,
All our love is lost, for love is dead. Spied a blossom passing fair,
Farewell, sweet lass, Playing in the wanton air :
Thy like ne'er was Through the velvet leaves the wind,
For a sweet content, the cause of all my mean : All unseen, 'gan passage find ;
Poor Coridon That the lover, sick to death,
Must live alone, Wish d himself the heaven's breath,
Other help for him I see that there is none. Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; Air, would I might triumph so! But, alas, my hand hath sworn
Whenas thine eye hath chose the dame, Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn :
And stall’d the deer that thou shouldst strike, Vow, alack, for youth unmeet,
Let reason rule things worthy blame, Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet.
As well as fancy, partial might :* Thou for whom Jove would swear
Take counsel of some wiser head,
Neither too young, nor yet unved.
And when thou com`st thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with tiled talk, My flocks feed not,
Lest she some subtle practice smell ;
(A cripple soon can find a halt:) My ewes breed not,
But plainly say thou lov'st her well, My rams speed not, All is amiss :
And set her person forth to sell. Love is dying,
What though her frowning brows be bent, Faith 's defying,
Her cloudy looks will calm ere night; Heart 's denying,
And then too late she will repent, Causer of this.b
That thus dissembled her delight; All my merry jigs are quite foigot,
And twice desire, ere it be day, All my lady's love is lost, God wot :
That which with scorn she put away. Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love, There a nay is plac'd without remove.
What though she strive to try her strength, One silly cross
And ban and brawl, and say thee nay, Wrought all my loss ;
Her feeble force will yield at length, O frowning Fortune, cursed, fickle dame!
When craft hath taught her thus to say: For now I see,
“ Had women been so strong as men, Inconstancy
In faith you had not had it then."
And to her will frame all thy ways;
Spare not to spend,—and chiefly there Love hath forlorn me,
Where thy desert may merit praise, Living in thrall :
By ringing in thy lady's ear: Heart is bleeding,
The strongest castle, tower, and town, All help needing,
The golden bullet beats it down. (O cruel speeding!)
Serve always with assured trust,
And in thy suit be humble, true;
Unless thy lady prove unjust,
Press never thou :o choose anew :
When time shall serve, be thou not slack With sighs so deep,
To proffer, though she put thee back. Procures d to weep,
The wiles and guiles that women work, In howling wise, to see my doleful plighit.
Dissembled with an outward show, How sighs resound
The tricks and toys that in them lurk, Through heartless ground,
The cock that treads them shall not know, Like a thousand vanquish d men in bloody fight!
Have you not heard it said full oft, Clear wells spring not,
A woman's nay doth stand for nought! Sweet birds sing not,
Think women still to strive with men, Green plants bring not
To sin, and never for to saint: Forth; they die :
There is no heaven, hy holy then, a This beantiful little poem also occurs, with variations, in When time with age shall them attaint. Love's Labour's Lost.'
Were kisses all the joys in bed, b We have two other ancient copies of this poem-one ju
One woman would another wed. • England's Helicon,' 1600; the other in a collection of Madrigals by Thomas Weelkes, 1597.
© No deal-in no degree: sime deal and no deal were com- Fancy is here used as love, and might as potr. Steatens mon expressions,
mischievously we should imagine, changed partial to d Bucures. The curtail dog is the nominative case to this partial tike : and Malune adopts this reading, which makes
Cupid a bulldog.
1035 But soft; enough,—too much I fear,
Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee ; Lest that my mistress hear my song;
Ruthless bears, they will not cheer thee. She 'll not sick to round me i' th' ear,
King Pandion, he is dead ; To teach my tongue to be so long ;
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead : Yet will she blush, here be it said,
All thy fellow-birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing.
None alive will pity me.
Whilst as fickle Fortune smild, And we will all the pleasures prove
Thou and I were both beguild. That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in misery. And all the craggy mountains yields.
Words are easy like the wind;
Faithful friends are hard to find.
Every man will be thy friend,
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend ;
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want. There will I make thee a bed of roses,
If that one be prodigal, With a thousand fragrant posies,
Bountiful they will him call: A cap of flowers, and a kirile
And with such-like flattering, Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.
Pity but he were a king."
If he be addict to vice, A belt of straw and ivy buds,
Quickly him they will entice; With coral clasps and amber studs ;
If to women he be bent, And if these pleasures may thee move,
They have him at commandement; Then live with me and be my love.
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown;
They that fawnd on him before,
Use his company no more. If that the world and love were young,
He that is thy friend indeed, And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
He will help thee in thy need; These pretty pleasures might me move
If thou sorrow, he will weep; To live with thee and be thy love.
If thou wake, he cannot sleep :
Thus of every grief in heart xix."
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.
Take, oh, take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn, She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
And those eyes, the break of day, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn,
Lights that do mislead the morn: And there sung the dolefull'st ditty,
But my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.
Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow, That to hear her so complain,
Which thy frozen bosom bears, Scarce I could from tears refrain ;
On whose tops the pinks that grow For her griefs so lively shown,
Are of those that April wears. Made me think upon mine own.
But first set my poor heart free, Ah! thought I, thou mourn'st in vain;
Bound in those icy chains by thee." None take pity on thy pain :
& The collection entitled 'The Passionate Pilgrim,'&c., ende
with the Sonnet to Sundry Notes of Music which we have This poem is also incompletely printed in England's numbered xıx. Maloue adds to the collection this exqui-ite Helicun ; wliere it berry ille rigoature Ignoto.
song, of which we find the first verse in • Measure for Measure.'
VERSES AMONG THE ADDITIONAL POEMS TO CHESTER'S
LOVE'S MARTYR, PRINTED IN 1601.
Let the bird of loudest lay,
So between them love did shine, That the turtle saw his right Flaming in the phænix' sight: Either was the other's mine. Property was thus appall’d, That the self was not the same; Single nature's double name Neither two nor one was calld.
But thou, sbrieking harbinger,
From this session interdict
Here the anthem doth commence :
Reason, in itself confounded,
So they lov'd, as love in twain Had the essence but in one; Two distincts, division none: Number there in love was slain.
Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
There is a curious coincidence in a passage in “ The Tem
“ Now I will believe That there are unicorns; that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phenix' throne." Can--knows.
a Threne-tunereal song.