GEORGE GASCOIGNE.

A frange PASSION of a LOVER.
I LAUGH fometimes with little luft;
So jeft I oft, and feel no joye;
Mine ease is builded all on truft,

And yet mistrust breeds mine annoye.
I live and lack, I lack and have,
I have, and miss the thing I crave.

Then like the lark, that paft the night
In heavy fleep with cares oppreft,
Yet when she spies the pleasant light,

She fends fweet notes from out her breaft:

So fing I now, because I think

How joys approach when forrows shrink.

And as fair Philomene again

Can watch and fing when others sleep, And taketh pleasure in her pain,

Το

wray the woe that makes her weep:

So fing I now, for to bewray

The loathfome life I lead alway.

The which to thee, dear wench, I write,

That know'ft my mirth, but not my moan;

I pray God grant thee deep delight,
To live in joys when I am gone.

I cannot live; it will not be,

I die to think to part from thee,

THE LULLABY OF A LOVER.

SING lullabies, as women do,

With which they charm their babes to rest; And lullaby can I fing too,

As womanly as can the best. With lullaby they still the child ; And, if I be not much beguil'd, Full many wanton babes have I, Which must be ftill'd with lullaby.

First lullaby my youthful years:
It is now time to go to bed:
For crooked age, and hoary hairs,

Have wore the haven within mine head.

With lullaby then youth be ftill,

With lullaby content thy will;

Since courage quails, and comes behind,
Go fleep, and fo beguile thy mind.

Next, lullaby my gazing eyes,

Which wonted were to glance apace ;

For ev'ry glass may now fuffice.
To fhew the furrows in my face.
With lullaby then wink awhile;
With lullaby your looks beguile;
Let no fair face, or beauty bright,
Entice you efte with vain delight.

And lullaby, my wanton will,

Let reafon's rule now rein thy thought, Since all too late I find by skill,

How dear I have thy fancies bought; With lullaby now take thine ease, With lullaby thy doubt appeafe; For, truft in this, if thou be ftill, My body shall obey thy will.

Thus lullaby my youth, mine eyes,
My will, my ware, and all that was;
I can no more delays devife;

But, welcome pain, let pleasure pass.
With lullaby now take your leave,
With lullaby your dreams deceive,
And, when you rise with waking eye,
Remember then this lullaby.

I

THE DOLE OF DESPAIR,

WRITTEN BY A LOVER

Difdainfully rejected, contrary to former Promises.

MUST alledge, and thou canst tell

How faithfully I vow'd to ferve:

And how thou feem'dft to like me well;
And how thou faidft I did deferve
To be thy Lord, thy Knight, thy King,
And how much more I lift not fing.

E

And canft thou now, thou cruel one,
Condemn defert to deep despair?
Is all thy promise past and gone?
Is faith fo fled into the air?
If that be so, what refts for me,
But thus, in fong, to fay to thee:

If Crefid's name were not fo known,
And written wide on every wall;
If bruit of pride were not so blown
Upon Angelica withall;

For hault difdain, you might be she;
Or Creffid for inconftancy.

And in reward of thy defert,

I hope at laft to see thee paid

With deep repentance for thy part

Which thou haft now fo lewdly play'd;

Medoro, he must be thy make,

Since thou Orlando doft forfake.