their couer They must leaue their wonted vses Since I leaue to be a Louer They shall liue with thee enclosed I will loath my Pen and Paper Art shall neuer be supposed Sloth shall quench the watching Taper Kisse them silence kisse them kindly Though I leaue them yet I loue them Though my wit haue led them blindly Yet a Swaine did once approue them I will trauaile soiles remoued Night and morning neuer merrie Thou shalt harbour that I loued I will loue that makes me wearie If perchaunce the Shepheard strayeth In thy walkes and shades vnhaunted Tell the teene my hart betrayeth How neglect my ioyes haue daunted FINIS Thom. Lodge ¶ A Pastorall Song betweene Phillis and Amarillis two Nimphs each answering other line for line FIe on the sleights that men deuise heigh hoe silly sleights When simple Maides they would entice Maides are yong mens chiefe delights Nay women they witch with their eyes eyes like beames of burning Sunne And men once caught they soone despise so are Shepheards oft vndone If any young man win a maide happy man is hec By trusting him she is betraide fie vpon such treacherie If Maides win young men with their guiles heigh hoe guilefull greefe They deale like weeping Crocodiles that murder men without releefe I know a simple Countrie Hinde heigh hoe sillie Swaine To whom faire Daphne proued kinde was he not kinde to her againe He vowed by Pan with many an oath heigh hoe Shepheards God is he Yet since hath chang'd and broke his troath troth-plight broke will plagued be She had deceiued many a Swaine fie on false deceit And plighted troth to them in vaine there can bee no griefe more great Her measure was with measure paide heigh hoe heigh hoe equall meede She was begui'ld that had betraide so shall all deceiuers speede If euery Maide were like to mee heigh hoe hard of hart Both loue and louers scorn'd should be scorners shall be sure of smart If euery Maide were of my minde heigh hoe heigh hoe louely sweet They to their Louers should proue kinde kindnes is for Maiden's meet Me thinkes loue is an idle toy heigh hoe busie paine Both wit and sense it doth annoy both sense and wit thereby we gaine Tush Phillis cease be not so coy heigh hoe heigh hoe coy disdaine I know you loue a Shepheards boy fie that Maydens so should fame Well Amarillis now I yeeld Shepheards pipe aloude Loue conquers both in towne and field like a Tirant fierce and proude The euening starre is vp yee see Vesper shines we must away Would euery Louer might agree so we end our Roundelay FINIS H. C. ¶ The Shepheards Antheme NEere to a banke with Roses set about Where prettie Turtles ioyning bill to bill And gentle springs steale softly murmuring out Washing the foote of pleasures sacred hill There little Loue sore wounded lyes his bow and arrowes broken Bedewde with teares from Venus eyes Oh that it should be spoken Beare him my hart slaine with her scornefull eye Where sticks the arrow that poore hart did kill With whose sharpe pyle yet will him ere hee die About my hart to write his latest will And bid him send it backe to mee at instant of his dying That cruell cruell she may see my faith and her denying His Hearse shall be a mournefull Cypres shade And for a Chauntrie Philomels sweet lay Where prayer shall continually be made By Pilgrime louers passing by that way With Nimphs and Shepheards yeerely mone his timelesse death beweeping And telling that my hart alone hath his last will in keeping FINIS Mich. Drayton ¶ The Countesse of Pembrokes Pastorall A Shepheard and a Shepheardesse sate keeping sheepe vpon the downes His lookes did gentle blood expresse her beautie was no foode for clownes Sweet louely twaine what might you be Two fronting hills bedeckt with flowers they chose to be each other seate And there they stole their amorous houres with sighs and teares poore louers meate Fond Loue that feed'st thy seruants so Faire friend quoth he when shall I liue That am halfe dead yet cannot die Can beautie such sharpe guerdon giue to him whose life hangs in your eye Beautie is milde and will not kill Sweet Swaine quoth shee accuse not mee that long haue beene thy humble thrall But blame the angry destinie whose kinde consent might finish all Vngentle Fate to crosse true Loue. Quoth hee let not our Parents hate disioyne what heauen hath linckt in one They may repent and all too late if childlesse they be left alone Father nor friend should wrong true loue The Parents frowne said shee is death to children that are held in awe From them we drew our vitall breath they challenge dutie then by law Such dutie as kills not true Loue They haue quoth hee a kinde of sway on these our earthly bodies here But with our soules deale not they may the God of loue doth hold them deere He is most meet to rule true loue I know said she t is worse then hell when Parents choise must please our eyes Great hurt comes thereby I can tell forc'd loue in desperate danger dies Faire Maid then fancie thy true loue If wee quoth he might see the houre of that sweet state which neuer ends Our heauenly gree might haue the power to make our Parents as deere friends All ranck our yeelds to soueraigne loue Then God of loue said she consent and shew some wonder of thy power Our Parents and our owne content may be confirmde by such an houre Graunt greatest God to further loue The Fathers who did alwaies tend when thus they got their priuate walke As happy fortune chaunc'd to send vnknowne to each heard all this talke Poore soules to be so crost in loue Behinde the hills whereon they sate they lay this while and listned all And were so mooued both thereat that hate in each began to fall Such is the power of sacred loue They shewed themselues in open sight poore Louers Lord how they were mazde And hand in hand the Fathers plight whereat poore harts they gladly gazde Hope now begins to further loue And to confirme a mutuall band of loue that at no time should cease They likewise ioyned hand in hand the Shepheard and the Shepheardesse Like fortune still befall true loue FINIS Shep. Ionie Another of Astrophell THE Nightingale so soone as Aprill bringeth Vnto her rested sense a perfect waking While late bare earth proud of new clothing springeth Sings out her woes a thorne her Song-booke making And mournefully bewailing Her throate in tunes expresseth What griefe her breast oppresseth For Tereus force on her chast will preuailing Oh Philomela faire oh take some gladnes That here is iuster cause of plaintfull sadnes Thine earth now springs mine fadeth Thy throne without my thorne my hart inuadeth Alas she hath no other cause of languish But Tereus loue on her by strong hand wroken Wherein she suffering all her spirits languish Full woman-like complaines her will
swift of pace When yelping Hounds pursue her to and fro Hounds fierce in chase to reaue her life Cease tongue to tell of any more compares Compares too rude Daphnis deserts and beautie are too rare Then heere conclude faire Daphnis praise FINIS I. Wootton ¶ Dorons description of his faire Shepheardesse Samela LIke to Diana in her Sommer weede Girt with a Crimson roabe of brightest die goes faire Samela Whiter then be the flocks that stragling feed When wash'd by Arethusa faint they lie is faire Samela As faire Aurora in her morning gray Deckt with the ruddy glister of her loue is faire Samela Like louely Thetis on a calmed day When as her brightnes Neptunes fancies moue shines faire Samela Her tresses gold her eyes like glassie streames Her teeth are pearle the brests are Iuorie of faire Samela Her cheekes like Rose and Lilly yeeld forth gleames Her browes bright arches fram'd of Ebonie thus faire Samela Passeth faire Venus in her brightest hew And Iuno in the shew of Maiestie for she 's Samela Pallas in wit all three if you well view For beauty wit and matchlesse dignitie yeeld to Samela FINIS Ro. Greene. ¶ Wodenfrides Song in praise of Amargana THe Sunne the season in each thing Reuiues new pleasures the sweet Spring Hath put to flight the Winter keene To glad our louely Sommer Queene The pathes where Amargana treads With flowrie tap'stries Flora spreads And nature cloathes the ground in greene To glad our louely Sommer Queene The Groaues put on their rich aray With Hawthorne bloomes imbroydered gay And sweet perfum'd with Eglantine To glad our louely Sommer Queene The silent Riuer stayes his course Whilst playing on the christall sourse The siluer scaled fish are seene To glad our louely Sommer Queene The Woods at her faire sight reioyces The little Birds with their loud voyces In consort on the bryers beene To glad our louely Sommer Queene The fleecie Flockes doe scud and skip The wood-Nimphs Fawnes and Satires trip And daunce the Mirtle trees betweene To glad our louely Sommer Queene Great Pan our God for her deere sake This feast and meeting bids vs make Of Shepheards Lads and Lasses sheene To glad our louely Sommer Queene And euery Swaine his chaunce doth proue To winne faire Amarganaes loue In sporring strifes quite voide of spleene To glad our louely Sommer Queene All happines let Heauen her lend And all the Graces her attend Thus bid me pray the Muses nine Long liue our louely Sommer Queene FINIS W. H. Another of the same HAppy Shepheards sit and see with ioy The peerelesse wight For whose sake Pan keepes from ye annoy And giues delight Blessing this pleasant Spring Her praises must I sing List you Swaines list to me The whiles your Flocks feeding be First her brow a beauteous Globe I deeme And golden haire And her cheeke Auroraes roabe doth seeme But farre more faire Her eyes like starres are bright And dazle with their light Rubies her lips to see But to taste Nectar they be Orient pearles her teeth her smile doth linke The Graces three Her white necke doth eyes beguile to thinke it Iuorie Alas her Lilly hand How it doth me commaund Softer silke none can be And whiter milke none can see Circes wand is not so straite as is Her body small But two pillers beare the waight of this maiesticke Hall Those be I you assure Of Alabaster pure Polish'd fine in each part Ne're Nature yet shewed like Art How shall I her pretty tread expresse when she doth walke Scarse she doth the Primerose head depresse or tender stalke Of blew-veind Violets Whereon her foote she sets Vertuous she is for we finde In body faire a beaut'ous minde Liue faire Amargana still extold In all my rime Hand want Art when I want will t'vnsold her worth diuine But now my Muse doth rest Despaire clos'd in my brest Of the valour I sing Weake faith that no hope doth bring FINIS W. H. ¶ An excellent Pastorall Dittie A Carefull Nimph with carelesse greefe opprest Vnder the shaddow of an Ashen tree With Lute in hand did paint out her vnrest vnto a Nimph that bare her company No sooner had she tuned euery string But sob'd and sigh'd and thus began to sing Ladies and Nimphs come listen to my plaint on whom the cheerefull Sunne did neuer rise If pitties stroakes your tender breasts may taint come learne of me to wet your wanton eyes For Loue in vaine the name of pleasure beares His sweet delights are turned into feares The trustlesse shewes the frights the feeble ioyes the freezing doubts the guilefull promises The feigned lookes the shifts the subtill toyes the brittle hope the stedfast heauines The wished warre in such vncertaine peace These with my woe my woes with these increase Thou dreadfull God that in thy Mothers lap do'st lye and heare the crie of my complaint And seest and smilest at my sore mishap that lacke but skill my sorrowes here to paint Thy fire from heauen before the hurt I spide Quite through mine eyes into my brest did glide My life was light my blood did spirt and spring my body quicke my heart began to leape And euery thornie thought did prick and sting the fruit of my desired ioyes to reape But he on whom to thinke my soule still tyers In bale forsooke and lest me in the bryers Thus Fancie strung my Lute to layes of Loue and Loue hath rock'd my wearie Muse a-sleepe And sleepe is broken by the paines I proue and euery paine I feele doth force me weepe Then farewell fancie loue sleepe paine and sore And farewell weeping I can waile no more FINIS Shep. Tonie ¶ Phillidaes Loue-call to her Coridon and his replying Phil. COridon arise my Coridon Titan shineth cleare Cor. Who is it that calleth Coridon who is it that I heare Phil. Phillida thy true-Loue calleth thee arise then arise then arise and keepe thy Flock with me Cor. Phillida my true-Loue is it she I come then I come then I come and keepe my flocke with thee Phil. Here are cherries ripe my Coridon eate them for my sake Cor. Here 's my Oaten pipe my louely one sport for thee to make Phil. Here are threeds my true-Loue fine as silke to knit thee to knit thee a paire of stockings white as milke Cor. Here are Reedes my true-Loue fine and neate to make thee to make thee a Bonnet to with-stand the heate Phil. I will gather flowers my Coridon to set in thy Cap Cor. I will gather Peares my louely one to put in thy lap Phil. I will buy my true-Loue Garters gay for Sundayes for Sundayes to weare about his legges so tall Cor. I will buy my true-Loue yellow Say for Sundayes for Sundayes to weare about her middle small Phil. When my Coridon sits on a hill making melodie Cor. When my louely one goes to her wheele singing cherily Phil. Sure me thinks my true-Loue doth excell for sweetnesse for sweetnesse our Pan that
a Song After that thou didst honour and take hould Of my sweet Loue and of my happy soule What greater ioy can any man desire Then to remaine a Captiue vnto Loue And haue his heart subiected to his power And though sometimes he tast a little sower By suffering it as mild as gentle Doue Yet must he be in hew of that great hire Whereto be doth aspire If Louers liue afflicted and in paine Let them with cause complaine Of cruell fortune and of times aâ—â—… And let not them accuse Thee gentle-Loue that doth with 〈…〉 Within thy sweetest ioyes each laâ—… 〈◊〉 Behold a faire sweet face and shining eyeâ— Resembling two most bright and twinkling Sending vnto the soule a perfect light Behold the rare perfections of those wâ—â—â—â— And Iuorie hands from griefes most surest barres That minde wherein all life and glory lyes That ioy that neuer dyes That he doth feele that loues and is beloued And my delights approued To see her pleas'd whose loue maintaines me here All those I count so deere That though sometimes Loue doth my ioyes controule Yet am I glad he dwels within my soule FINIS Bar. Yong. ¶ A Shepheards dreame A Silly Shepheard lately sate among a Flock of Sheepe Where musing long on this and that at last he fell a sleepe And in the slumber as he lay he gaue a pitteous groane He thought his sheepe were runne away and he was left alone He whoopt he whistled and he call'd but not a sheepe came neere him Which made the Shepheard sore appall'd to see that none would heare him But as the Swaine amazed stood in this most solemne vaine Came Phillida forth of the Wood and stood before the Swaine Whom when the Shepheard did behold he straight began to weepe And at the heart he grew a cold to thinke vpon his sheepe For well he knew where came the Queene the Shepheard durst not stay And where that he durst not be seene the sheepe must needes away To aske her if she saw his Flock might happen patience moue And haue an answere with a mock that such demanders proue Yet for because he saw her come alone out of the Wood He thought he would not stand as dombe when speech might doe him good And therefore falling on his knees to aske but for his sheepe He did awake and so did leese the honour of his sleepe FINIS N. Breton ¶ The Shepheards Ode NIghts were short and dayes were long Blossomes on the Hawthorne hong Philomell Night-Musiques King Told the comming of the Spring Whose sweet-siluer-sounding-voyce Made the little birds reioyce Skipping light from spray to spray Till Aurora shew'd the day Scarse might one see when I might see For such chances sudden be By a Well of Marble-stone A Shepheard lying all alone Weepe he did and his weeping Made the fading flowers spring Daphnis was his name I weene Youngest Swaine of Summers Queene When Aurora saw t' was he Weepe she did for companie Weepe she did for her sweet Sonne That when antique Troy was wonne Suffer'd death by lucklesse Fate Whom she now laments too late And each morning by Cocks crewe Showers downe her siluer dewe Whose teares falling from their spring Giue moisture to each liuing thing That on earth encrease and grow Through power of their friendly foe Whose effect when Flora felt Teares that did her bosome melt For who can resist teares often But she whom no teares can soften Peering straite aboue the banks Shew'd her selfe to giue her thanks Wondring thus at Natures worke Wherein many meruailes lurke Me thought I heard a dolefull noyse Consorted with a mournfull voyce Drawing neere to heare more plaine Heare I did vnto my paine For who is not pain'd to heare Him in griefe whom heart holds deere Silly Swaine with griefe ore-gone Thus to make his pitteous mone Loue I did alas the while Loue I did but did beguile My deere Loue with louing so Whom as then I did not know Loue I did the fairest Boy That these fields did ere enioy Loue I did faire Ganimede Venus darling beauties bed Him I thought the fairest creature Him the quintessence of Nature But yet alas I was deceau'd Loue of reason is bereau'd For since then I saw a Lasse Lasse that did in beauty passe Passe faire Ganimede as farre As Phaebus doth the smallest starre Loue commanded me to loue Fancie bad me not remoue My affection from the Swaine Whom I neuer could obtaine For who can obtaine that fauour Which he cannot grant the crauer Loue at last though loth preuail'd Loue that so my heart assail'd Wounding me with her faire eyes Ah how Loue can subtillize And deuise a thousand shifts How to worke men to his drifts Her it is for whom I mourne Her for whom my life I scorne Her for whom I weepe all day Her for whom I sigh and say Either she or else no creature Shall enioy my loue whose feature Though I neuer can obtaine Yet shall my true-loue remaine Till my body turn'd to clay My poore soule must passe away To the heauens where I hope It shall finde a resting scope Then since I loued thee alone Remember me when I am gone Scarse had he these last words spoken But me thought his heart was broken With great griefe that did abound Cares and griefe the heart confound In whose heart thus riu'd in three Eliza written I might see In Caracters of crimson blood Whose meaning well I vnderstood Which for my heart might not behold I hied me home my Sheepe to fold FINIS Rich. Barnefielde ¶ The Shepheards commendation of his Nimph. VVHat Shepheard can expresse The fauour of her face To whom in this distresse I doe appeale for grace A thousand Cupids flye About her gentle eye From which each throwes a Dart That kindleth soft sweet fire Within my sighing hart Possessed by desire No sweeter life I trie Then in her loue to die The Lilly in the field That glories in his white For purenesse now must yeeld And render vp his right Heauen pictur'd in her face Doth promise ioy and grace Faire Cynthiaes siluer light That beates on running streames Compares not with her white Whose haires are all Sun-beames So bright my Nimph doth shine As day vnto my eyne With this there is a red Exceedes the Damaske-Rose Which in her cheekes is spred Whence euery fauour growes In Skie there is no starre But she surmounts it farre When Phaebus from the bed Of Thetis doth arise The morning blushing red In faire Carnation wise He shewes in my Nimphs face As Queene of euery grace This pleasant Lilly white This taint of Roseate red This Cynthiaes siluer light This sweet faire Dea spred These Sun-beames in mine eye These beauties make me die FINIS Earle of Oxenford ¶ Coridon to his Phillis ALas my heart mine eye hath wronged thee Presumptuous eye to gaze on Phillis face Whose heauenly eye no mortall man may see But he must die or purchase Phillis grace Poore
Loue 's so expert in giuing ioy not trouble That now I know not but he should be praised He is so true so constant neuer double That in my minde he should not be dispraised Loue in the end is such a pleasing passion That euery one may trust vnto his fashion For of all good he is the onely Master And foe vnto my harmes and my disaster Syrenus Not in these sayings to be proou'd a lyer He knowes that doth not loue nor is beloued Now nights and dayes I rest as I desire After I had such griefe from me remoued And cannot I be glad since thus estranged My selfe from false Diana I haue changed Hence hence false Loue I wil not entertaine their Since to thy torments thou do'st seeke to traine me Syluanus Not in these sayings to be prou'd a lyer He knowes that loues and is againe beloued Now nights and dayes I rest in sweet desire After I had such happy fortune proued And cannot I be glad since not estranged My selfe into Seluagia I haue changed Come come good Loue and I will entertaine thee Since to thy sweet content thou seek'st to traine me FINIS Bar. Yong. ¶ Ceres Song in emulation of Cinthia SWell Ceres now for other Gods are shrinking Pomona pineth Fruitlesse her tree Faire Phaebus shineth Onely on me Conceit doth make me smile whilst I am thinking How euery one doth read my storie How euery bough on Ceres lowreth Cause heauen plenty on me powreth And they in leaues doe onely glory All other Gods of power bereauen Ceres onely Queene of heauen With roabes and flowers let me be dressed Cinthia that shineth Is not so cleare Cinthia declineth When I appeare Yet in this Isle she raignes as blessed And euery one at her doth wonder And in my eares still fond fame whispers Cinthia shall be Ceres Mistres But first my Carre shall riue in sunder Helpe Phaebus helpe my fall is suddaine Cinthia Cinthia must be Soueraigne This Song was sung before her Maiestie at Bissam the Lady Russels in prograce The Authors name vnknowne to me ¶ A Pastorall Ode to an honourable friend AS to the blooming prime Bleake Winter being fled From compasse of the clime Where Nature lay as dead The Riuers dull'd with time The greene leaues withered Fresh Zephyri the Westerne brethren be So th' honour of your fauour is to me For as the Plaines reuiue And put on youthfull greene As plants begin to thriue That disattir'd had beene And Arbours now aliue In former pompe are seene So if my Spring had any flowers before Your breath Fauonius hath encreast the store FINIS E. B. ¶ A Nimphs disdaine of Loue. HEy downe a downe did Dian sing amongst her Virgins sitting Then loue there is no vainer thing for Maydens most vnfitting And so thinke I with a downe downe derrie When women knew no woe but liu'd them-selues to please Mens fayning guiles they did not know the ground of their disease Vnborne was false suspect no thought of iealousie From wanton toyes and fond affect the Virgins life was free Hey down a down did Dian sing c At length men vsed charmes to which what Maides gaue eare Embracing gladly endlesse harmes anone enthralled were Thus women welcom'd woe disguis'd in name of loue A iealous hell a painted show so shall they finde that proue Hey downe a downe did Dian sing amongst her Virgins sitting Then loue there is no vainer thing for Maidens most vnfitting And so thinke I with a downe downe derrie FINIS Ignoto ¶ Apollos Loue-Song for faire Daphne MY heart and tongue were twins at once conceaued The eldest was my heart borne dumbe by destinie The last my tongue of all sweet thoughts bereaued Yet strung and tun'd to play harts harmonie Both knit in one and yet a-sunder placed What hart would speake the tongue doth still discouer What tongue doth speake is of the heart embraced And both are one to make a new-found Louer New-found and onely found in Gods and Kings Whose words are deeds but deeds not words regarded Chaste thoughts doe mount and flie with swiftest wings My loue with paine my paine with losse rewarded Engraue vpon this tree Daphnes perfection That neither men nor Gods can force affection This Dittie was sung before her Maiestie at the right honourable the Lord Chandos at Sudley Castell at her last being there in prograce The Author thereof vnknowne ¶ The Shepheard Delicius his Dittie NEuer a greater foe did Loue disdaine Or trode on grasse so gay Nor Nimph greene leaues with whiter hand hath rent More golden haire the wind did neuer blow Nor fairer Dame hath bound in white attire Or hath in Lawne more gracious features tied Then my sweet Enemie Beautie and chastitie one place refraine In her beare equall sway Filling the world with wonder and content But they doe giue me paine and double woe Since loue and beautie kindled my desire And cruell chastitie from me denied All sence of iollitie There is no Rose nor Lilly after raine Nor flower in moneth of May Nor pleasant meade nor greene in Sommer sent That seeing them my minde delighteth so As that faire flower which all the heauens admire Spending my thoughts on her in whom abide All grace and gifts on hie Me thinks my heauenly Nimph I see againe Her neck and breast display Seeing the whitest Ermine to frequent Some plaine or flowers that make the fairest show O Gods I neuer yet beheld her nier Or farre in shade or Sunne that satisfied I was in passing by The Meade the Mount the Riuer Wood and Plaine With all their braue array Yeeld not such sweet as that faire face that 's bent Sorrowes and ioy in each soule to bestow In equall parts procur'd by amorous fire Beauty and Loue in her their force haue tried to blind each humane eye Each wicked mind will which wicked vice doth staine her vertues breake and stay All ayres infect by ayre are purg'd and spent Though of a great foundation they did grow O body that so braue a soule do'st hire And blessed soule whose vertues euer pried aboue the starrie skie Onely for her my life in ioyes I traine my soule sings many a Lay Musing on her new Seas I doe inuent Of soueraigne ioy wherein with pride I rowe The deserts for her sake I doe require For without her the Springs of ioy are dried and that I doe defie Sweet Fate that to a noble deede do'st straine and lift my heart to day Sealing her there with glorious ornament Sweet seale sweet griefe and sweetest ouerthrow Sweet miracle whose fame cannot expire Sweet wound and golden shaft that so espied such heauenly companie Of beauties graces in sweet vertues died As like were neuer in such yeares descried FINIS Bar. Yong. ¶ Amintas for his Phillis AVrora now began to rise againe From watry couch and from old Tithons side In hope to kisse vpon Acteian plaine Young Cephalus and through the golden glide On Easterne