But one must be refused, more mickle was the pain, That nothing could be used to turn them buth to gain. For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with Alas, she could not help it!

[disdain : Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day, Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away; Then lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay;

For now my song is ended.

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 summer brave,

Age like winter bare.
Youth is full of sport,
Age's breath is short,

Youth is nimble, age is lame :
Youth is hot and bold.
Age is weak and cold;

Youth is wild, and age is tame,
Age, I do abhor thee,
Youth, I do adore thee;

O, my love, my love is young:
Age, I do defy thee;
O, sweet shepherd, hie thee,
For methinks thou stay'st too long

XY. On a day (alack the day!) Love, whose month was ever May, Spy'd a blossom passing fair, Playing in the wanton air, Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen, 'gan passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath : “ Air," quoth he, “thy cheeks may blow; Air, would I might triumph so! But, alas! my hand hath sworn Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn. Vow, alack, for youth unmeet, Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet. Do not call it sin in me, That I am forsworn for thee; Thou for whom even Jove would swear Juno but an Ethiop were; And deny himself for Jove, Turning mortal for thy love.

XI.

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good,

A shining gloss, that fadeth suddenly; A flower that dies, when first it 'gins to bud;

A brittle glass that's broken presently: A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour. And as goods lost are seld or never found,

As faded gloss no rubbing will refresh, As towers dead, lie wither'd on the ground,

As broken glass no cement can redress, So beauty, blemish'd once, for ever's lost, In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.

XII.

“Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share :"

She bade good night, that kept my rest away; And daft me to a cabin hang'd with care,

To descant on the doubts of my decay. “Farewell," quo'she, " and come again to-morrow;" Farewell 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: May be, she joy'd to jest at my exile,

May be, again to make me wander thither:
Wander, a word for shadows like myself,
As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.

XIII. * Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east !

My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.

Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,
While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,
And wish her lays were tuned like the lark;
“For she doth welcome day-light with her ditty,

And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night :
The night so packd, I post unto my pretty;

Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight; Sorrow changed to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow; For why? she sigh'd, and bade me come tomorrow. “ 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 an hour ;

Yêt not for me, shine sun to succour flowers ! [row; Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now borShort, Night, to-night, and length thyself to-morrow.”

XVI.
My flocks feed not,
My ewes breed not,
My rams speed not,

All is amiss :
Love's denying,
Faith's defying,
Heart's renying,

Causer of this.
All my merry jigs are quite forgot,
All my lady's love is lost, God wot:
Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love,
There a nay is placed without remove.
One silly cross
Wrought all my loss;

O, frowning Fortune, cursed, fickle dame!
For now I see,
Inconstancy

More in women than in men remain.
In black mourn 1,
All fears scorn I,
Love bath forlorn me,

Living in thrall:
Heart is bleeding,
All help needing,
(O cruel speeding!)

Fraughted with gall.
My shepherd's pipe can sound no dell,
My wether's bell rings doleful knell;
My curtail dog, that wont to have play'd,
Plays not at all, but seems afraid;
With sighs so deep,
Procures to weep,

In howling-wise, to see my doleful plight.
How sighs resound
Through heartless ground,
Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody fight
Clear wells spring nob,
Sweet birds sing not,
Green plants bring not

Forth; they die:
Herds stand weeping,
Flocks all sleeping,
Nymphs back peeping

Fearfully.
All our pleasure known to us poor swains,
All our merry meetings on the plains,
All our evening sport from us is fled,
All our love is lost, for love is dead.
Farewell, sweet love,
Thy life ne'er was

XIV. It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three, That liked of her master as well as well might be, Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest that eye Her fancy fell a turning.

[could see, Long 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.

For sweet content, the cause of all my moan:

Poor Cordon

Must live alone, Other help for him I see that there is none.

XVII.
When as thine eye hath chose the dame,

And stall d the deer that thou should'st strike,
Let reason rule things worthy blame,

As well as fancy, partial might: Take counsel of some wiser head, Neither too young, nor yet unwed. And when thou com'st thy tale to tell,

Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,
Lest she some subtle practice smell;

(A cripple soon can find a halt:)
But plainly say thou lov'st her well,
And set her person forth to sale.
What though her frowning brows be bent,

Her cloudy looks will calm ere night;
And then too late she will repent,

That thus dissembled her delight;
And twice desire, ere it be day,
That which with scorn she put away.
What though she strive to try her strength,

And ban and brawl, and say thee nay,
Her feeble force will yield at length,

When craft hath taught her thus to say:
“ Had women been so strong as men,
In faith you had not had it then."
And to her will frame all thy ways;

Spare not to spend-and chietly there
Where thy desert may merit praise,

By ringing in thy ludy's ear:
The strongest castle, tower, and town,
The golden bullet beats it down.
Serve always with assured trust,

And in thy suit be humble, true;
Unless thy lady prove unjust,

Press never thou to choose anew :
When time shall serve, be thou not slack
To proffer, though she put thee back.
The wiles and guiles that women work,

Dissembled with an outward show,
The tricks and toys that in them lurk,

The cock that treads them shall not know.
Have you not heard it said full oft,
A woman's nay doth stand for nought?
Think women still to strive with men,

To sin, and never for to saint:
There is no heaven, by holy then,

When time with age shall them attaint.
Were kisses all the joys in bed,
One woman would another wed.
But soft; enough-too much I fear,

Lest that my mistress hear my song;
She'll not stick to round me i' th'ear,

To teach my tongue to be so long:
Yet will she blush, here be it said,
To hear her secret's so bewray'd.

Ah! (thought I) thou mourn'st in vain;
None take pity on thy pain:
Senseless trees, they cannet hear thee;
Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee;
King Pandion he is dead;
All ihy friends are lapp'd in lead:
All thy fellow birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing.
Even so, poor bird, like thee,
None alive will pity me.
Whilst as fickle fortune smiled,
Thou and I were both beguiled.
Every one that flatters thee,
ls no friend in misery.
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.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call:
And with such like fattering
“ Pity but he were a king."
If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice
If to women he be bent,
They have him at commandment;
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown:
They that fawn'd on him before,
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need:
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep :
Thus of every grief in heart
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.

XIX.
Take, oh! take those lips away,

That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,

Lights that do mislead the morn: But my kisses bring again, Seals of love, but seal'd in vain. Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow

Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow,

Are of those that April wears. But first set my poor heart free, Bound in those icy chains by thee.

XVIII. As it fell upon a day, In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made, Beasts did leap, and birds did sing, Trees did grow, and plants did spring: Every thing did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone: She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Leand her breast up-till a thorn, And there sung the doleful'st ditty, That to bear it was great pity: Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry, Teru, Teru, by and by! That to hear her so complain, Scarce I could froin tears refrain; For her griefs so lively shown, Made me think upon mine own.

XX.
Let the bird of loudest lay,

On the sole Arabian tree,

Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.
But thou, shrieking harbinger,

Foul precursor of the fiend,

Augur of the fever's end,
To this troop come thou not near.
From this session interdict

Every fowl of tyrant wing,

Save the eagle, feather'd king:
Keep the obsequy so strict.
Let the priest in surplice white,
That defunctive music can,

Be the death-divining swan,
Lest the requiem lack his right.
And thou, treble-dated crow,
That thy sable gender mak'st

With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st, 'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go. Here the anthem doth commence:

Love and constancy are dead;

Phønix and the turtle fled In a mutual fame from bence.

Whereupon it made this threne

To the phenix and the dove,

Co-supremes and stars of love; As chorus to the tragic scene.

THRENOS.

So they lovell es love in twain
Had the essence but in one;

Two distincts, division none:
Number there in love was slain.
Hearts remote, yet not asunder;

Distance, and no space was seen

'Twixt the turtle and bis queen; But in them it were & wonder. So between them love did shine, That the turtle saw his right

Flaming in the phenix' 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 call'd. Reason, in itself confounded,

Saw division grow together:

To themselves, yet either-neither, Simple were so well compounded, That it cried how true a twain

Seemeth this concordant one!

Love hath reason, reason none, If what parts can so remain.

Beauty, truth, and rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,
Here inclosed in cinders lie.
Death is now the phonix' nest;
And the turtle's loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,
Leaving no posterity :-
'Twas not their infirinity,
It was married chastity.
Truth may seem, but cannot be;
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.
To this urn let those repair,
That are either true or fair;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.

From off a hill whose concave womb rëworded

A plaintful story from a sistering vale,
My spirits to attend this double voice acconded,

And down I lay to list the sad-tuned tale:

Ere long espy'd a fickle maid full pale, Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-iwain, Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain. Upon her head a plaited hive of straw,

Which fortifled her visage from the sun, Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw

The carcase of a beauty spent and done. Time had not scythed all that youth begun, Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage, Some beauty peep'd through lattice of seard age. on did she heave her napkin to her eyne,

Which on it had conceited characters, Laund'ring the silken figures in the brine

That season'd woe had pelleted in tears,

And often rending what contents it bears;
As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe,
In clamours of all size, both high and low.
Sometimes her leveli'd eyes their carriage ride,

As they did battery to the spheres intend;
Sometime diverted their poor balls are ty'd

To the orb'd earth; sometimes they do extend

Their view right on; anon their gazes lend To every place at once, and no where fix'd, The mind and sight distractedly commix'd. Her hair, nor loose, nor tyd in formal plat,

Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride; For some untuck’d, descended her sheaved hat,

Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside;

Some in her threade fillet still did le, And, true to bondage, would not break from thence, Though slackly braided in loose negligence. A thousand favours from a maund she drew

or amber, crystal, and of bedded jet, Which one by one she in a river threw,

Upon whose weeping margent she was set,

Like usury, applying wet to wet, Or monarchs' hands, that let not bounty fall, Where want cries some, but wbere excess begs all.

Of folded schedules had she many a one,

Which she perused, sigh'd, tore, and gave the flood; Crack'd many a ring of posied gold and bone,

Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud;

Found yet more letters sadly penn'd in bloori,
With sleided silk feat and affectedly
Enswath'd, and seal'd to curious secresy.
These often bathed she in her fluxive eyes,

And often kiss'd, and often 'gan to tear;
Cried, 0, false blood! thou register of lies,

What unapproved witness dost thou bear!

Ink would have seem'd more black and damned This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, [bere! Big discontent so breaking their contents. A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh,

(Sometime a blusterer, that the rule know Of court, of city, and had let go by

The swiftest hours,) observed as they flew;

Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew;
And, privileged by age, desires to know
In brief, tho grounds and motives of her woe.
So slides he down upon his grained bat,

And comely-distant sits he by her side;
When he again desires her, being sat,

Her grievance with his hearing to divide:

If that from him there may be aught apply'd
Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage,
'Tis promised in the charity of age.
Father, she says, though in me you behold

The injury of many a blasting hour,
Let it not tell your judgment I am old;

Not age, but sorrow, over me bath power:

I might as yet have been a spreading flower,
Fresh to myself, if I had self-apply'd
Love to myself, and to no love beside.
But, woe is me! too early I attended

A youthful suit (it was to gain my grace) of one by nature's outwar's so commended,

That maiden's eyes stuck over all his face:

Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place; And when in his fair parts she did abide, She was new lodged and newly deifiod.