CIII PHILOMELA 1 THE Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making; Her throat in tunes expresseth For Tereus' force on her chaste will prevailing. Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth. Alas! she hath no other cause of anguish But Tereus' love, on her by strong hand wroken; Wherein she suffering, all her spirits languish, Full womanlike complains her will was broken. But I, who, daily craving, Cannot have to content me, Have more cause to lament me, Since wanting is more woe than too much having. Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth. Sir P. Sidney. As it fell upon a day In the merry month of May, Which a grove of myrtles made, Beasts did leap and birds did sing, Trees did grow and plants did spring; Save the Nightingale alone: Senseless trees they cannot hear thee, King Pandion he is dead, All thy friends are lapp'd in lead; All thy fellow birds do sing R. Barnefield. CV THE FAITHLESS SHEPHERDESS WHILE that the sun with his beams hot Scorched the fruits in vale and mountain, Philon the shepherd, late forgot, Sitting beside a crystal fountain In shadow of a green oak tree, Upon his pipe this song play'd he: Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love! Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love! Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. So long as I was in your sight I was your heart, your soul, your treasure; And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd Burning in flames beyond all measure : -Three days endured your love to me, Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love! Another shepherd you did see To whom your heart was soon enchainèd; Full soon your love was leapt from me, Full soon my place he had obtainèd. Soon came a third your love to win, And we were out and he was in. Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love! Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love! Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. SHORT SUNSHINE Sure you have made me passing glad To choose you for my best beloved: For all my love was pass'd and done Anon. 107 CVI SHORT SUNSHINE FULL many a glorious morning have I seen E'en so my sun one early morn did shine Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth. Shakespeare. CVII A MADRIGAL THE earth, late choked with showers, The woods are deckt with leaves, The token of my wrack. The birds upon the trees Do sing with pleasant voices, And chant in their degrees Their loves and lucky choices: The thrushes seek the shade, My walk on earth I have: T. Lodge. |