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And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle :
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold:
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning :
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
Naught is there under heavens wide hollownesse
That moves more deare compassion of mind,
Than beautie brought to unworthie wretchednesse,
Through Envies snares, or Fortunes freaks unkind.
I, whether lately through her brightnes blynd, 5
Or through aileageance, and fast fëalty,
Which I do owe unto all womankynd,
Feele my hart perst with so great agony, pierced
When such I see, that all for pitty I could dy.
And now it is empassioned so deepe,
10 For fairest Unaes sake, of whom I sing, That my frayle eies these lines with teares do steepe, To thinke how she through guyleful handeling, Though true as touch, though daughter of a King, Though faire as ever living wight was fayre, Though nor in word nor deede ill meriting, Is from her Knight divorced in dispayre, And her dew loves deryvd to that vile Witches shayre. Yet she, most faithfull Ladie, all this while Forsaken, wofull, solitarie mayd,
20 Far from all peoples prease, as in exile, press or crowd In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd, To seeke her Knight; who, subtily betrayd Through thatlatevision which the Enchaunterwrought, Had her abandond: She, of naught affrayd, 25 Through woods and wastnes wide him daily sought; Yet wished tydinges none of him unto her broughto One day, nigh wearie of the yrkesome way, From her unhastie beast she did alight; And on the grasse her dainty limbs did lay In secrete shadow, far from all mens sight: From her fayre head her fillet she undight, And layd her stole aside: her angels face, long robe As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place; 35 Did never mortall eye behold such heavenly grace.
It fortuned, out of the thickest wood
A ramping Lyon rushed suddeinly,
Hunting full greedy after salvage blood :
Soone as the royall Virgin he did spy,
With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,
To have attonce devourd her tender corse :
But to the pray when as ne drew more ny,
His bloody rage aswaged with remorse,
And, with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse. 45
Instead thereof he kist her wearie feet,
And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong;
As he her wronged innocence did weet.
O how can beautie maister the most strong,
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong!
Whose yielded pryde and proud submission,
Still dreading death, when she had marked long,
Her hart gan melt in great compassion;
And drizling teares did shed for pure affection.
: “The Lyon, Lord of everie beast in field,” 55
Quoth she, “his princely puissance doth abate,
And mightie proud to humble weake does yield,
Forgetfull of the hungry rage, which late
Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate :
But he, my Lyon, and my noble lord,
How does he find in cruell hart to hate
Her, that him lovd, and ever most adord
As the God of my life? why hath he me abhord ?"
Redounding teares did choke the end of her plaint,
Which softly echoed from the neighbour wood; 65
And, sad to see her sorrowfull constraint,
The kingly beast upon her gazing stood;
With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood.
At last, in close hart shutting up her payne,
Arose the Virgin borne of heavenly brood,
And to her snowy palfrey got agayne,
To seek her strayed Champion if she might attayne.
The Lyon would not leave her desolate,
But with her went along, as a strong gard
Of her chast person, and a faythfull mate
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard :
Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward;
And, when she wakt, he wayted diligent,
With humble service to her will prepard :
From her fayre eyes he took commandëment, 80
And ever by her lookes conceived her intent.
LOOKING far foorth into the ocean wide,
A goodly ship, with banners bravely dight,
And flag in her top-gallant, I espide,
Through the maine sea making her merry flight:
Faire biew the wind into her bosome right;
And the heavens looked lovely all the while;
That she did seeme to daunce, as in delight,
And at her owne felicitie did smile. All sodainely there clove unto her keele A little fish, that men call Remora,
10 Which stopt her course, and held her by the heele, That winde nor tide could move her thence away.
Straunge thing, me seemeth, that so small a thing Should able be so great an one to wring!
CUPID AND CAMPASPE.
CUPID and my Campaspe play'd
At cardes for kisses ; Cupid pay’d;
He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows,
His mothers doves, and teame of sparrows;
Loses them too; then down he throws
The coral of his lipre, the rose
Growing on 's cheek (but none knows how);
With these, the crystal of his browe,
And then the dimple of his chinne;
All these did my Campaspe winne.
At last he set her both his eyes ;
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O Love! has she done this to thee?
What shall, alas ! become of mee?
A FATHER'S ADVICE TO HIS SON GOING
My blessing with you, And these few precepts in thy memory. Look thou charácter. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportion'd thought his act: Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar : 5 The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in, Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee :