Then will his gentle heart soon yield; A lamb in turn thou shalt him find; Ask blessing, babe! be not afraid; A noble youth of blood and bone; His glancing looks, if once he smile, Come little boy and rock asleep; God bless my babe, and lullaby Anon. [From England's Helicon, 1600.] A PALINODE. A, withereth the primrose by the river, For as the snow, whose lawn did overspread As shine by fountains, bubbles, flowers or snow? PHILLIDA AND CORYDON. In the merry month of May, There I spied all alone Much ado there was, God wot, She said never man was true, He said, none was false to you. He said, he had lov'd her long, She said, Love should have no wrong Corydon would kiss her then, She said, maids must kiss no men, Till they did for good and all: All the heavens to witness truth: Such as silly shepherds use Nicholas Breton. TO COLIN CLOUT. Beauty sat bathing by a spring, Into a slumber then I fell, When fond imagination Seemed to see, but could not tell Her feature or her fashion. But even as babes in dreams do smile, So I awaked, as wise this while, Iley nonnie, nonnie, &c. Shepherd Tonie. PHIL'S LOVE-CALL TO HER CORYDON, AND HIS REPLYING Phil. Corydon, arise my Corydon, Cor. Phil. Titan shineth clear. Who is it that calleth Corydon, Who is it that I hear? Phillida thy true love calleth thee, Arise then, arise then ; Alise and keep thy flock with me. Cor. Phil. Cor. Phillida, my true love, is it she? I come then, I come then, I come and keep my flock with thee. Here are cherries ripe my Corydon, Here's my oaten pipe, my lovely one, Phil. Here are threads, my true love, fine as silk, Cor. Phil. Cor. A pair of stockings white as milk. Here are reeds, my true love, fine and neat, A bonnet to withstand the heat. I will gather flowers my Corydon, I will gather pears, my lovely one, Phil. I will buy my true love garters gay, Cor. To wear about his legs so tall. To wear about her middle small. Phil. When my Corydon sits on a hill Cor. Making melody: When my lovely one goes to her wheel, Phil. Sure methinks my true love doth excel Cor. Our Pan that old Arcadian knight. Beyond the nymphs that be so bright. Phil. Had my Corydon, my Corydon, Been (alack) her2 swain: Thin serge: Fr. saie. The editions give 'my.' Cor. Had my lovely one, my lovely one, Phil. Cynthia Endymion had refus'd, Cor. My Corydon to play withal: My Phillida the golden ball. Phil. Yonder comes my mother, Corydon, Cor. Cor. Whither shall I fly? Under yonder beech my lovely onc, Say to her thy true love was not here: To-morrow is another day. Doubt me not, my true love, do not fear: Heaven keep our loves alway. Ignoto. [From Davison's Poetical Rapsody, 1602.] A FICTION: HOW CUPID MADE A NYMPH WOUL HERSELF WITH HIS ARROWS. It chanc'd of late a shepherd's swain, Her golden hair o'erspread her face, The shepherd stood and gaz'd his fill; |