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And fates not hope betray),

Which, only white, deserves

A diamond for ever should it mark:

This is the morn should bring into this grove

My Love, to hear and recompense my love.
Fair King, who all preserves,

But show thy blushing beams,

And thou two sweeter eyes

Shalt see than those which by Penéus' streams Did once thy heart surprise :

Nay, suns, which shine as clear

As thou when two thou did to Rome appear.
Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest guise :
If that
ye winds would hear

A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre,
Your stormy chiding stay;

Let zephyr only breathe

And with her tresses play,

Kissing sometimes these purple ports of death.

The winds all silent are;
And Phoebus in his chair
Ensaffroning sea and air
Makes vanish every star:
Night like a drunkard reels

Beyond the hills to shun his flaming wheels :
The fields with flowers are deck'd in every hue,

The clouds with orient gold spangle their blue: Here is the place

And nothing wanting is, save She, alas!

Drummond of Hawthornden.

THE LOVE-CALL

5

THE LOVE-CALL

PHYLLIDA. Corydon, arise, my Corydon !
Titan shineth clear.

CORYDON. Who is it that calleth Corydon?
Who is it that I hear?

PHYL. Phyllida, thy true love, calleth thee,
Arise then, arise then,

Arise and keep thy flock with me!
COR. Phyllida, my true love, is it she?
I come then, I come then,

I come and keep my flock with thee.

PHYL. Here are cherries ripe for my Corydon;
Eat them for my sake.

COR. Here's my oaten pipe, my lovely one,
Sport for thee to make.

PHYL. Here are threads, my true love, fine as

silk,

To knit thee, to knit thee,

A pair of stockings white as milk.

COR. Here are reeds, my true love, fine and neat,
To make thee, to make thee,

A bonnet to withstand the heat.

PHYL. I will gather flowers, my Corydon,
To set in thy cap.

COR. I will gather pears, my lovely one,
To put in thy lap.

PHYL. I will buy my true love garters gay
For Sundays, for Sundays,

To wear about his legs so tall.

COR. I will buy my true love yellow say,1
For Sundays, for Sundays,

To wear about her middle small.

PHYL. When my Corydon sits on a hill
Making melody—

COR. When my lovely one goes to her wheel,
Singing cheerily-

PHYL. Sure methinks my true love doth excel For sweetness, for sweetness,

Our Pan, that old Arcadian knight. COR. And methinks my true love bears the bell

For clearness, for clearness,

Beyond the nymphs that be so bright.

PHYL. Had my Corydon, my Corydon,
Been, alack! her swain-

COR. Had my lovely one, my lovely one,
Been in Ida plain-

PHYL. Cynthia Endymion had refused,
Preferring, preferring

My Corydon to play withal.

COR. The Queen of Love had been excused Bequeathing, bequeathing

My Phyllida the golden ball.

1 Soie, silk.

CORINNA'S MAYING

PHYL. Yonder comes my mother, Corydon,
Whither shall I fly?

COR. Under yonder beech, my lovely one,
While she passeth by.

PHYL. Say to her thy true love was not here:
Remember, remember,

To-morrow is another day.

COR. Doubt me not, my true love, do not fear;
Farewell then, farewell then!

Heaven keep our loves alway!

VI

Anon.

CORINNA'S MAYING

GET up, get up for shame! The blooming morn
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.
See how Aurora throws her fair
Fresh-quilted colours through the air:
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
The dew-bespangled herb and tree!
Each flower has wept and bow'd toward the east,
Above an hour since, yet you not drest;

Nay! not so much as out of bed?
When all the birds have matins said,
And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin,

Nay, profanation, to keep in,

Whenas a thousand virgins on this day

Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch in May.

Rise, and put on your foliage, and be seen

To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and

green,

And sweet as Flora. Take no care

For jewels for your gown or hair :
Fear not; the leaves will strew

Gems in abundance upon you:

Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,
Against you come, some Orient pearls unwept.
Come, and receive them while the light
Hangs on the dew-locks of the night,
And Titan on the eastern hill

Retires himself, or else stands still

Till you come forth! Wash, dress, be brief in praying:

Few beads are best when once we go a-Maying.

Come, my Corinna, come; and coming, mark
How each field turns a street, each street a park,
Made green and trimm'd with trees! see how
Devotion gives each house a bough

Or branch! each porch, each door, ere this,
An ark, a tabernacle is,

Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove,
As if here were those cooler shades of love.
Can such delights be in the street
And open fields, and we not see 't?
Come, we'll abroad: and let's obey
The proclamation made for May,

And sin no more, as we have done, by staying,
But, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.

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