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The secret sighs and feigned cheer
That oft doth pain thy careful breast,
To me right plainly doth appear;

I see in whom thy heart doth rest.

And though thou mak'st a feigned vow
That love no more thy heart should nip,
Yet think I know as well as thou

The fickle helm doth guide the ship.

The salamander in the fire

By course of wind doth bathe his limbs; The floating fish tak'th his desire

In running streams whereas he swims.

So thou in change dost take delight;
Full well I know thy slippery kind;
In vain thou seem'st to dim my sight;
Thy rolling eyes bewray thy mind.

I see him smile that doth possess
Thy love, which once I honoured most;
If he be wise he may well guess
Thy love, soon won, will soon be lost.

And sith thou can no more entice
That he should still love thee alone,
Thy beauty now hath lost her price,
I see thy savoury scent is gone.

Therefore leave off thy wonted play,
But as thou art thou wilt appear;
Unless thou canst devise a way

To dark the sun that shines so clear.

And keep thy friend, that thou hast won ;
In truth to him thy love supply;

Lest he at length, as I have done,
Take off thy bells, and let thee fly!

Anon.

[From The Arbor of Amorous Devises, 1597.]

A SWEET LULLABY.

Come little babe, come silly soul,
Thy father's shame, thy mother's grief,
Born as I doubt to all our dole,
And to thyself unhappy chief :

Sing lullaby and lap it warm,

Poor soul that thinks no creature harm.

Thou little think'st and less dost know
The cause of this thy mother's moan;
Thou want'st the wit to wail her woe,
And I myself am all alone;

Why dost thou weep, why dost thou wail,
And know'st not yet what thou dost ail?

Come little wretch, ah silly heart,
Mine only joy; what can I more?
If there be any wrong thy smart
That may the destinies implore ;

'Twas I, I say, against my will;
I wail the time, but be thou still.

And dost thou smile? oh, thy sweet face!
Would God himself he might thee see!
No doubt thou soon wouldst purchase grace,
I know right well, for thee and me.

But come to mother, babe, and play;
For father false is fled away.

Sweet boy, if it by fortune chance
Thy father home again to send,
If death do strike me with his lance,
Yet mayst thou me to him commend;
If any ask thy mother's name,

Tell how by love she purchased blame.

Then will his gentle heart soon yield;
I know him of a noble mind;
Although a lion in the field

A lamb in turn thou shalt him find;

Ask blessing, babe! be not afraid;
His sugared words have me betrayed.
Then mayst thou joy and be right glad
Although in woe I seem to moan;
Thy father is no rascal lad,

A noble youth of blood and bone;

His glancing looks, if once he smile,
Right honest women may beguile.

Come little boy and rock asleep;
Sing lullaby and be thou still;
I that can do nought else but weep
Will sit by thee and wail my fill:

God bless my babe, and lullaby
From this thy father's quality!

Anon.

[From England's Helicon, 1600.]

À PALINODE.

As withereth the primrose by the river,
As fadeth summer's sun from gliding fountains,
As vanisheth the light blown bubble ever,
As melteth snow upon the mossy mountains:
So melts, so vanisheth, so fades, so withers,
The rose, the shine, the bubble and the snow,
Of praise, pomp, glory, joy, which short life gathers,
Fair praise, vain pomp, sweet glory, brittle joy.
The withered primrose by the mourning river,
The faded summer's sun from weeping fountains,
The light-blown bubble, vanished for ever,
The molten snow upon the naked mountains,
Are emblems that the treasures we uplay,
Soon wither, vanish, fade, and melt away.

For as the snow, whose lawn did overspread
Th' ambitious hills, which giant-like did threat
To pierce the heaven with their aspiring head,
Naked and bare doth leave their craggy seat:
When as the bubble, which did empty fly,
The dalliance of the undiscerned wind,
On whose calm rolling waves it did rely,
Hath shipwreck made, where it did dalliance find:
And when the sunshine which dissolved the snow,
Coloured the bubble with a pleasant vary,
And made the rathe and timely primrose grow,
Swarth clouds withdraw, which longer time do tarry:
O what is praise, pomp, glory, joy, but so
As shine by fountains, bubbles, flowers or snow?
Edmund Bolton.

PHILLIDA AND CORYDON.

In the merry month of May,
In a morn by break of day,
Forth I walked by the wood-side,
When as May was in his pride:
There I spied all alone
Phillida and Corydon.

Much ado there was, God wot,
He would love and she would not.
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:
Then she made the shepherd call

All the heavens to witness truth:
Never lov'd a truer youth.
Thus with many a pretty oath,
Yea and nay, and faith and troth,

Such as silly shepherds use
When they will not Love abuse,
Love which had been long deluded,
Was with kisses sweet concluded,
And Phillida with garlands gay,
Was made the lady of the May.

Nicholas Breton.

TO COLIN CLOUT.

Beauty sat bathing by a spring,
Where fairest shades did hide her,
The winds blew calm, the birds did sing,
The cool streams ran beside her.
My wanton thoughts entic'd mine eye
To see what was forbidden:

But better memory said, fie,
So vain desire was chidden.
Hey nonnie, nonnie, &c.

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
And sometimes fall a weeping,

So I awaked, as wise this while,
As when I fell a sleeping.

Hey nonnie, nonnie, &c.

Shepherd Tonie.

PHILLIDA'S LOVE-CALL TO HER CORYDON, AND HIS REPLYING.

Phil. Corydon, arise my Corydon,
Titan shineth clear.

Cor. Who is it that calleth Corydon,

Who is it that I hear?

Phil. Phillida thy true love calleth thee,
Arise then, arise then;

Arise and keep thy flock with mc.

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