He swears relief, yet kills the heart;
He calls for truth, yet scorns desart.

Accurst be Love, and those that trust his trains ! Whose heaven is hell, whose perfect joys are pains. (The Phoenix Nest.)

A Distressed Mother's
Lullaby

LULLABY:
Ah, little lads,

Give ceaseless sorrow end with lullaby;
Suck up my tears

That stream from out the fountains of mine eye;
Feed, feed on me

Whom no good hope or fortune glads,—
O, set me free

From those incessant and pursuing fears
Which waken up my woes and kill my pleasure.

Lullaby :

Weep, weep no more,

But let me weep, and, weeping, weep life hence,
That, whilst you want,

I may not see false Fortune's proud pretence :
When I am dead,

My God, perhaps, will send you store.

O, smile in need,

Poor hungry babes, let smiles be nothing scant :
I, tears; you, smiles ;-both have no better treasure
To bring these woes exceeding mean or measure

To lullaby.

(The Life and Death of William Longbeard.)

Robert Greene

Menaphon's Song

SOME say, Love,
Foolish Love,

Doth rule and govern all the gods :
I say, Love,
Inconstant Love,

Sets men's senses far at odds.
Some swear, Love,
Smooth-faced Love,

Is sweetest sweet that men can have :
I say, Love,
Sour Love,

Makes virtue yield as beauty's slave ;
A bitter sweet, a folly worst of all,
That forceth wisdom to be folly's thrall.

Love is sweet ?
Wherein sweet?

In fading pleasures that do pain ?
Beauty sweet?
Is that sweet

That yieldeth sorrow for a gain?
If Love's sweet,
Herein sweet,

That minutes' joys are monthly woes : 'Tis not sweet That is sweet

Nowhere but where repentance grows. Then love who list, if beauty be so sour ; Labour for me, Love rest in prince's bower.

(Menaphon.)

Sephestia's Song to her Child

WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee ;
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.

Mother's wag, pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy ;
When thy father first did see
Such a boy by him and me,
He was glad, I was woe;
Fortune changed made him so
When he left his pretty boy,
Last his sorrow, first his joy.

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee ;
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.

Streaming tears that never stint,
Like pearl drops from a flint,
Fell by course from his eyes,
That one another's place supplies ;
Thus he grieved in every part,
Tears of blood fell from his heart,
When he left his pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy.

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.

The wanton smiled, father wept,
Mother cried, baby leapt ;
More he crowed, more we cried,
Nature could not sorrow hide :
He must go, he must kiss
Child and mother, baby bless,
For he left his pretty boy,

Father's sorrow, father's joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee ;
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.

(Ibid.)

Menaphon's Roundelay

WHEN tender ewes, brought home with evening sun, Wend to their folds,

And to their holds

The shepherds trudge when light of day is done,
Upon a tree

The eagle, Jove's fair bird, did perch;

There resteth he.

A little fly his harbour then did search,

And did presume, though others laughed thereat,
To perch whereas the princely eagle sat.

The eagle frowned, and shook his royal wings,
And charged the fly

From thence to hie:

Afraid, in haste, the little creature flings,
Yet seeks again,

Fearful, to perk him by the eagle's side.
With moody vein,

The speedy post of Ganymede replied,
"Vassal, avaunt, or with my wings you die ;
Is't fit an eagle seat him with a fly?”

The fly craved pity, still the eagle frowned;
The silly fly,

Ready to die,

Disgraced, displaced, fell grovelling to the ground : The eagle saw,

And with a royal mind said to the fly,

"Be not in awe,

I scorn by me the meanest creature die ;

Then seat thee here." The joyful fly up flings,
And sat safe shadowed with the eagle's wings.

(Ibid.)

Doron's Description of
Samela

LIKE to Diana in her summer weed,
Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye,
Goes fair Samela ;

Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed,
When washed by Arethusa faint 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 brows' 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;

Pallas in wit ;—all three, if you well view,
For beauty, wit, and matchless dignity,

Yield to Samela.

Doron's Jig

THROUGH the shrubs as I 'gan crack
For my lambs, little ones,

(Ibid.)

'Mongst many pretty ones
(Nymphs I mean) whose hair was black

As the crow;

Like the snow