This bird's estate I may compare with mine,

To whom fond love doth work such wrongs by day
That in the night my heart must needs repine,
And storm with sighs to ease me as I may :
Whilst others are becalm'd, or lie them still,
Or sail secure with tide and wind at will.
And as all those which hear this bird complain
Conceive on all her tunes a sweet delight,
Without remorse or pitying her pain,

So She for whom I wail both day and night
Doth sport herself in hearing my complaint :
A just reward for serving such a Saint.

MY LOVE IS PAST

LOVE hath delight in sweet delicious fare;
Love never takes good Counsel for his friend;
Love author is and cause of idle care;

Love is distraught of wit and hath no end;
Love shooteth shafts of burning hot desire;
Love burneth more than either flame or fire.

Love doth much harm through jealousy's assault ;
Love once embraced will hardly part again;
Love thinks in breach of faith there is no fault;
Love makes a sport of others' deadly pain;
Love is a wanton child, and loves to brawl;
Love with his war brings many souls to thrall.

These are the smallest faults that lurk in Love;
These are the hurts which I have cause to curse;
These are those truths which no man can disprove;
These are such harms as none can suffer worse.

B

All this I write that others may beware,

Though now myself twice free from all such care.

WITH

THE MAY-QUEEN

ITH fragrant flowers we strew the May,
And make this our chief holy-day:

For though this clime were blest of yore,
Yet was it never proud before.

O beauteous Queen of second Troy !
Accept of our unfeigned joy !

Now th' air is sweeter than sweet balm,
And satyrs dance about the palm;
Now earth, with verdure newly dight,
Gives perfect signs of her delight.

O beauteous Queen of second Troy !
Accept of our unfeigned joy!

Now birds record new harmony,
And trees do whistle melody;
Now every thing that Nature breeds
Doth clad itself in pleasant weeds.

O beauteous Queen of second Troy !
Accept of our unfeigned joy!

SONNET

LAME me not, dear Love! though I talk at randon,

Terming thee scornful, proud, unkind, disdainful,

Since all I do can not my woes abandon,

Or rid me of the yoke I feel so painful.

If I do paint thy pride or want of pity,

Consider likewise how I blaze thy beauty :

Inforced to the first in mournful ditty,
Constrained to the last by servile duty.

And take thou no offence if I misdeemed!

Thy beauty's glory quencheth thy pride's blemish : Better it is of all to be esteemed

Fair and too proud than not fair and too squeamish. And seeing thou must scorn, and 'tis approved, Scorn to be ruthless since thou art beloved!

ANTHONY MUNDAY

DIRGE FOR ROBIN HOOD

EEP, weep, ye woodmen ! wail;

WEEP,

Your hands with sorrow wring!
Your master, Robin Hood, lies dead:
Therefore sigh as you sing!

Here lie his primer and his beads

His bent bow and his arrows keen;

His good sword and his holy cross :
Now cast on flowers fresh and

green

And, as they fall, shed tears and say
Well, well-a-day! well, well-a-day!
Thus cast ye flowers fresh, and sing,

And on to Wakefield take your way!

!

(ADA

GEORGE PEELE

CUPID'S CURSE

ENONE FAIR and fair and twice so fair,

As fair as any may be,—

The fairest shepherd on our green,
A Love for any Ladie!

PARIS — Fair and fair and twice so fair,
As fair as any may be,—

ENONE

Thy Love is fair for thee alone,

And for no other Ladie.

My Love is fair, my Love is gay,
As fresh as been the flowers in May;
And of my Love my roundelay,
My merry merry merry roundelay,
Concludes with Cupid's Curse ·
They that do change old love for new,
Pray Gods, they change for worse!

BOTH-They that do change

ENONE-Fair and fair and twice so fair,
As fair as any may be,—

PARIS

The fairest shepherd on our green,

A Love for any Ladie!

Fair and fair and twice so fair,

As fair as any may be,

Thy Love is fair for thee alone,

And for no other Ladie.

ANONE

-

My Love can pipe, my Love can sing,
My Love can many a pretty thing ;
And of his lovely praises ring

My merry merry roundelays :

Amen to Cupid's Curse!

They that do change old love for new,

Pray Gods, they change for worse! PARIS They that do change old love for new, Pray Gods, they change for worse! Fair and fair

BOTH

О

COLIN'S SONG

GENTLE LOVE! ungentle for thy deed,
Thou makest my heart

A bloody mark,

With piercing shot to bleed :

Shoot soft, sweet Love! for fear thou shoot amiss, For fear too keen

Thy arrows been

And hit the heart where my Belovèd is !

Too fair that fortune were, nor never I

Shall be so blest

Among the rest,

That Love shall seize on her by sympathy: Then since with Love my prayèrs bear no boot, This doth remain

To cease my pain :

I take the wound and die at Venus' foot.