« السابقةمتابعة »
lute, awake, perform the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And end that I have now begun :
And when this song is sung and past,
The rocks do not so cruelly
Whereby my lute and I have done.
Proud of the spoil which thou hast got
SIR THOMAS WYAT.
SINCE love will needs that I must love,
Of very force I must agree:
I shall always myself apply,
Though for good-will I find but hate,
And though that still a wretched state,
To serve and suffer patiently.
There is no grief, no smart, no woe,
That yet I feel, or after shall,
I do profess it willingly,
YOUR looks so often cast,
Your eyes so friendly roll'd,
Fain would ye find a cloak
A Man may live thrice Nestor's life,
Thrice wander out Ulysses' race,
Yet never find Ulysses' wife;
Such change hath chanced in this case! Less age will serve than Paris had,
Small pain (if none be small enow) To find good store of Helen's trade; Such sap the root doth yield the bough! For one good wife, Ulysses slew
A worthy knot of gentle blood: For one ill wife, Greece overthrew
The town of Troy. Sith bad and good Bring mischief, Lord let be thy will To keep me free from either ill!
See there is no sort
Of things that live in grief,
Which at some time may not resort,
The chaced deer hath soil,
To cool him in his heat;
The ass, after his weary toil,
In stable is up set.
The coney hath its cave,
The little bird its nest,
From heat and cold themselves to save,
At all times as they list.
The owl, with feeble sight,
The sparrow, in the frosty night,
But, woe to me, alas!
In sun, nor yet in shade,
I cannot find a resting-place
FROM GAMMER GURTON'S NEEDLE.
Cannot eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
With him that wears a hood.
I stuff my skin so full within
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
I love no roast but a nut-brown toast,
A little bread shall do me stead,
Much bread I nought desire.
No frost, no snow, no wind, I trow,
I am so wrapp'd, and thoroughly lapp'd,
Back and side, &c.
And Tib, my wife, that as her life
And saith, "Sweetheart, I took my part
Now let them drink till they nod and wink,
And all poor souls tha have scoured bowls,
God save the lives of them and their wives, Whether they be young or old.
Back and side, &c.