Damelus'
Song to his
Diaphenia
DIAPHENIA, like the daffadowndilly,
White as the sun, fair as the lily,
Heigho, how I do love thee !
I do love thee as my lambs
Are beloved of their dams :
How blest were I if thou wouldst prove me !
Diaphenia, like the spreading roses,
That in thy sweets all sweets encloses,
Fair sweet, how I do love thee!
I do love thee as each flower
Loves the sun's life-giving power ;,
For dead, thy breath to life might move me.
Diaphenia, like to all things blessed,
When all thy praises are expressed,
Dear joy, how I do love thee!
As the birds do love the Spring,
Or the bees their careful king :
Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me !
FEED on, my flocks, securely,
Your shepherd watcheth surely :
Run about, my little lambs,
Skip and wanton with your dams,
Your loving herd with care will tend ye.
Sport on, fair flocks, at pleasure,
Nip Vesta's flow'ring treasure ;
I myself will duly hark,
When my watchful dog doth bark;
From wolf and fox I will defend ye.
Of his mistress: upon occa
sion of her walking in a a Garden
My lady's presence makes the roses red,
Because to see her lips they blush for shame:
The lilies' leaves, for envy, pale became,
And her white hands in them this envy bred.
The marigold abroad her leaves doth spread,
Because the sun's and her power is the same;
The violet of purple colour came,
Dyed with the blood she made my heart to shed.
In brief-all flowers from her their virtue take :
From her sweet breath their sweet smells do pro-
ceed,
The living heat which her eye-beams do make
Warmeth the ground, and quickeneth the seed.
The rain wherewith she watereth these flowers
Falls from mine eyes, which she dissolves in showers.
IF true love might true love's reward obtain,
Dumb wonder only could speak of my joy ;
But too much worth hath made thee too much coy,
And told me long ago I loved in vain.
Not then vain hope of undeserved gain
Hath made me paint in verses mine annoy, .
But for thy pleasure ; that thou might'st enjoy
Thy beauties' sight, in glasses of my pain.
See then thy self, though me thou wilt not hear,
By looking on my verse : for pain in verse
Love doth in pain, beauty in love appear.
So, if thou would'st my verses' meaning see,
Expound them thus : When I my love rehearse,
None loves like him ;—that is, none fair like me.
P.5 c
33
LADY! in beauty and in favour rare,
Of favour, not of due, I favour crave :
Nature to thee beauty and favour gave,
Fair then thou art, and favour thou may'st spare.
And when on me bestowed your favours are,
Less favour in your face you shall not have :
If favour then a wounded soul may save,
Of murder's guilt, dear lady, then beware,
My loss of life a million-fold were less
Than the least loss should unto you befall ;
Yet grant this gift : which gift when I possess,
Both I have life, and you no loss at all ;
For by your favour only I do live;
And favour you may well both keep and give.
WONDER it is, and pity is't, that she
In whom all Beauty's treasure we may find,
That may enrich the body and the mind,
Towards the poor should use no charity.
My love is gone a-begging unto thee;
And if that Beauty had not been more kind
Than Pity, long ere this he had been pined ;-
But Beauty is content his food to be.
Oh, pity have, when such poor orphans beg!
Love, naked boy, hath nothing on his back;
And though he wanteth neither arm nor leg,
Yet maimed he is, sith he his sight doth lack.
And yet, though blind, he Beauty can behold,
And yet, though naked, he feels more heat than cold.
PITY refusing my poor love to feed,
A beggar starved for want of help he lies,
And at your mouth, the door of beauty, cries-
That thence some álms of sweet grants may proceed.
But as he waiteth for some almes-deed
A cherry-tree before the door he spies--
“Oh dear!” quoth he, “two cherries may suffice,
Two only, life may save in this my need."
But beggars can they naught but cherries eat?
Pardon my Love, he is a goddess' son,
And never feedeth but on dainty meat,
Else need he not to pine as he hath done :
For only the sweet fruit of this sweet tree
Can give food to my Love, and life to me.
Of his Mistress : upon occa
sion of a friend of his which dissuaded him
from loving A FRIEND of mine moaning my helpless love, Hoping, by killing hope, my love to slay ; “Let not," quoth he, “thy hope thy heart betray, Impossible it her heart to move." But, sith resolvèd love cannot remove As long as thy divine perfections stay, Thy godhead then he sought to take away :Dear! seek revenge, and him a liar prove. Gods only do impossibilities : “Impossible,” saith he, “thy grace to gain !” Show then the power of thy divinities, By granting me thy favor to obtain : So shall thy foe give to himself the lie, A goddess thou shalt prove, and happy I.
SWEET Hand! the sweet yet cruel bow thou art
From whence at me five ivory arrows fly;
So with five wounds at once I wounded lie,
Bearing in breast the print of every dart.
Saint Francis had the like-yet felt no smart,
Where I in living torments never die ;
His wounds were in his hands and feet, where I
All these same helpless wounds feel in my heart.
Now as Saint Francis (if a saint) am I:
The bow that shot these shafts a relic is,
I mean the Hand--which is the reason why
So many for devotion thee would kiss :
And I thy glove kiss as a thing divine-
Thy arrows' quiver, and thy relics' shrine.
NEEDS must I leave, and yet needs must I love ;
In vain my wit doth paint in verse my woe :
Disdain in thee despair in me doth show
How by my wit I do my folly prove.
All this my heart from love can never move ;
Love is not in my heart, no, lady, no :
My heart is love itself ; till I forego
My heart, I never can my love remove.
How shall I then leave love? I do intend
Not to crave grace, but yet to wish it still ;
Not to praise thee, but beauty to commend,
And so by beauty's praise, praise thee I will.
For as my heart is love, love not in me,
So beauty thou-beauty is not in thee.
Sweet queen ! although thy beauty raise up me
!
From sight of baser beauties here below;
Yet let me not rest there, but higher go
To Him, who took His shape from God and thee.
And if thy form in Him more fair I see,
What pleasure from his deity shall flow
By whose fair beams his beauty shineth so,
When I shall it behold eternally!
Then shall my love of pleasure have its fill
When Beauty's self, in whom all pleasure is,
Shall my enamour'd soul embrace and kiss,
And shall new loves and new delights distil
Which from my soul shall gush into my heart,
And through my body flow to every part.
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