To win his heart, she touch'd him here and there: But whether unripe years did want conceit, But smile and jest at every gentle offer: Then, fell she on her back, fair queen, and toward: V. If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? Which (not to anger bent) is music and sweet fire. Scarce had the sun dried up VI. the dewy morn, And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade, When Cytherea, all in love forlorn, A brook, where Adon us'd to cool his spleen : 66 5 - her FIGUR'D proffer,] We may suspect, notwithstanding the concurrence of the two ancient editions in our text, that the true reading was sugar'd proffer," the long s having been, as in other places, mistaken for the letter f. Sugar'd was an epithet not in uncommon use, and Meres in 1598 talks of Shakespeare's "sugar'd sonnets." If love make me forsworn,] This poem is read by Sir Nathaniel in "Love's Labour's Lost," Vol. ii. p. 328. It is not necessary here to point out the verbal or other variations, as the reader will see them at once by comparison. Hot was the day; she hotter that did look brim ; He, spying her, bounc'd in, whereas he stood: VII. Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle, A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her, Her lips to mine how often hath she joined, She burn'd with love, as straw with fire flameth; Was this a lover, or a lecher whether? VIII. If music and sweet poetry agree', As they must needs, the sister and the brother, 7 If music and sweet poetry agree,] This poem was published in 1598, in Richard Barnfield's "Encomion of Lady Pecunia." There is little doubt that it is his property, notwithstanding it appeared in "The Passionate Pilgrim,” 1599; and it was reprinted as Barnfield's in the new edition of his "Encomion," in 1605. Douland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound One god is god of both, as poets feign, One knight loves both, and both in thee remain. IX. Fair was the morn, when the fair queen of love, Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove, See, in my thigh, (quoth she,) here was the sore. X. Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon faded, I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have; For why? thou left'st me nothing in thy will. 8 Fair was the morn, when the fair queen of love,] The next line is wanting in both editions of "The Passionate Pilgrim:” of course it would rhyme with "wild," which closes the fourth line, and it would not be difficult to supply the deficiency. And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave; O yes, (dear friend), I pardon crave of thee: XI. Venus with Adonis sitting by her', Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him: She told the youngling how god Mars did try her, Even thus, (quoth she) the warlike god embrac'd me; Even thus, (quoth she) the warlike god unlac'd me, And would not take her meaning, nor her pleasure. XII. Crabbed age and youth Cannot live together; Age's breath is short; 1 Venus with Adonis sitting by her,] This sonnet, with considerable variations, is the third in a collection of seventy-two sonnets, published in 1596, under the title of "Fidessa," with the name of B. Griffin as the author. A syllabic defect in the first line is there remedied by the insertion of "young' before "Adonis." A manuscript of the time, now before us, is without the epithet, and has the initials W. S. at the end. 2 And as he fell to her, she fell to him.] So the line stands in both editions of "The Passionate Pilgrim," and in the contemporaneous manuscript; but in Griffin's "Fidessa " it is, "And as he fell to her, so fell she to him." Youth is nimble, age is lame: Age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and age is tame. O, my love, my love is young! O, sweet shepherd! hie thee, For methinks thou stay'st too long. XIII. Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good, A shining gloss that fadeth suddenly; A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, And as goods lost are seld or never found, XIV. Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share : Farewell, quoth she, and come again to-morrow: Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile, Wander," a word for shadows like thyself, As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf. |