Distrust doth enter hearts, but not infect,
And love is sweetest season'd with suspect.

If she for this with clouds do mask her eyes,
And make the heavens dark with her disdain,
With windy sighs disperse them in the skies,
Or with thy tears dissolve them into rain!
Thoughts, hopes, and love, return to me no more
Till Cynthia shine as she hath done before!

THE HERMIT'S SONG.

From fame's desire, from love's delight retired,
In these sad groves an hermit's life I lead;
And those false pleasures which I once admired
With sad remembrance of my fall I dread.
To birds, to trees, to earth, impart I this:
For She less secret and as senseless is.

Experience, which repentance only brings,

Doth bid me now my heart from love estrange :
Love is disdain'd when it doth look at kings,
And love low placed base and apt to change.
Their power doth take from him his liberty;
Her want of worth makes him in cradle die.

You men that give false worship unto Love,
And seek that which you never shall obtain,
The endless work of Sisiphus you prove,

Whose end is this-to know you strive in vain.
Hope and Desire, which now your idols be,
You needs must lose, and feel despair with me.

You woods! in you the fairest nymphs have walk'd,
Nymphs at whose sight all hearts did yield to love;
You woods! in whom dear lovers oft have talk'd:

How do you now a place of mourning prove! Wanstead! my Mistress saith this is the doom. Thou art love's child-bed, nursery, and tomb.

WALY! WALY!

O, waly! waly! up the bank,
And waly! waly! down the brae;
And waly! waly! yon burn-side
Where I and my Love wont to gae!
I lean'd my back unto an aik,

I thought it was a trusty tree;
But first it bow'd, and syne it brak':
Sae my true Love did lightly me.

O, waly! waly! but love be bonny,
A little time while it is new;
But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld
And fades away like morning dew.
O wherefore should I busk my head?
O wherefore should I kame my hair?
For my true Love has me forsook,

And says he'll never love me mair.

Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed,

The sheets shall ne'er be fyled by me; Saint Anthon's well shall be my drink, Since my true Love's forsaken me. Martinmas wind! when wilt thou blaw And shake the green leaves off the tree? O gentle Death! when wilt thou come? For of my life I am wearie.

'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,

Nor blawing wind's inclemency;

'Tis not sic cauld that gars me cry:

But my Love's heart grown cauld to me. When we came in by Glasgow town,

We were a comely sight to see :

My Love was clad in the black velvet,
And I myself in cramoisie.

But had I wist before I kiss'd

That love had been sae ill to win, I'd lock'd my heart in a case of gold, And pinn'd it with a silver pin. O! O! if my young babe were born, And set upon the nurse's knee; And I myself were dead and gane, Since a maid again I'll never be !

PHILLADA.

O, what a pain is love!
How shall I bear it?

She will unconstant prove:
I greatly fear it.

She so torments my mind,

That my strength faileth,
And wavers with the wind
As a ship saileth :
Please her the best I may,
She loves still to gainsay :
Alack and well-a-day!
Phillada flouts me.

All the fair yesterday
She did pass by me,
She look'd another way

And would not spy me;

I woo'd her for to dine,

But could not get her;
Will had her to the wine-
He might intreat her.
With Daniel she did dance,
On me she look'd askance :
O thrice unhappy chance!
Phillada flouts me.

Fair Maid! be not so coy,

Do not disdain me!

I am my mother's joy :

Sweet! entertain me!
She'll give me when she dies
All that is fitting :
Her poultry, and her bees,
And her goose sitting,

A pair of mattrass beds,
And a bag full of shreds :
And yet, for all this guedes,
Phillada flouts me.

She hath a clout of mine,

Wrought with blue coventry,

Which she keeps for a sign
Of my fidelity:
But, 'faith, if she flinch,

She shall not wear it ;

To Tib, my t'other wench,
I mean to bear it.

And yet it grieves my heart

So soon from her to part:
Death strike me with his dart!
Phillada flouts me.

Thou shalt eat crudded cream
All the year lasting,
And drink the crystal stream
Pleasant in tasting,

Whig and whey whilst thou lust,
And ramble-berries,

Pie-lid and pastry crust,

Pears, plums, and cherries;

Thy raiment shall be thin,

Made of a weevil's skin

Yet all's not worth a pin :
Phillada flouts me.

Fair maiden! have a care,

And in time take me!

I can have those as fair,
If you forsake me :

For Doll the dairy maid

Laugh'd at me lately,

And wanton Winifred

Favours me greatly.

One throws milk on my clothes,
T'other plays with my nose :
What wanting signs are those !
Phillada flouts me.

I can not work nor sleep
At all in season:

Love wounds my heart so deep,
Without all reason.

I 'gin to pine away

In my Love's shadow,
Like as a fat beast may
Penn'd in a meadow.

I shall be dead, I fear,
Within this thousand year:
And all for that my dear
Phillada flouts me.

BEAUTY BATHING.

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 enticed mine eye,
To see what was forbidden;
But better memory said-Fie!
So vain desire was chidden.
Hey, nonnie! nonnie!