The rock doth not so cruelly Whereby my lute and I have done. Proud of the spoil that thou has got, Vengeance may fall on thy disdain, May chance thee lie withered and old; Plaining in vain unto the moon: Thy wishes then dare not be told; Care then who list, for I have done. And then may chance thee to repent To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon: Now cease my lute! this is the last Now is this song both sung and past: My lute! be still, for I have done, "This," says Dr. Nott, "is one of the most beautiful Odes in our language. It is as beautifully arranged in all its parts as any of the odes of Horace. The lute, to which the Ode is addressed, corresponded nearly to the modern guitar. It was the instrument to which almost all the amatory compositions of our early Poets were sung; whence they are properly called songs, corresponding to the Italian cantata. Every person of good education played upon the lute. It was the lover's constant companion; and to its strings he attempered all his hopes and fears, his joys and sorrows." He ruleth not, though he reign over realms, who is subject to his own lusts. If thou wilt mighty be, flee from the rage Of cruel will; and see thou keep thee free For though thy empire stretch to Indian sea, If to be noble and high, thy mind be moved, And gives the moon her horns and her eclipsing, So that wretched no way may thou be All were it so, thou had a flood of gold, "In this fine moral ode, the sentiments are highly dignified and just; the versification has that grave and solemn flow of harmony which is peculiar to Wyatt's composition. The whole is formed on three detached passages in Boethius de Consolatione." An earnest suit to his unkind Mistress not to forsake him. And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay, say nay! And wilt thou leave me thus? Neither for pain nor smart ; And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay, say nay! And wilt thou leave me thus? On him that loveth thee? And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay, say nay ! The Poet sheweth how he is forsaken of Fortune, who sometime favoured him. They flee from me, that sometime did me seek, Thanked be Fortune, it hath been otherwise When her loose gown from her shoulders did fall; And she me caught in her arms long and small, And softly said: "Dear heart how like you It was no dream, I lay broad waking, And I have leave to go of her goodness, this ?" This is an original ode, and highly characteristic of Wyatt's peculiar manner. The personification of Fortune, with her loose gown falling from her shoulders, is one of the most pleasing images in the whole compass of his poetry.The propriety of the salute, depends in a great measure, on a circumstance which grew out of the manners of the days of chivalry, and which is now forgotten. Whenever a lady accepted the service of a knight, or acknowledged a person as her servant or lover, she gave him a kiss, voluntarily offered on her part, and this was considered to be an inviolable bond of obligation. The kiss being thus given, the lover was formally recognised under the title of "Servant d'Amour."-See Chaucer's Troilus and Cressida, B. 111." The Lover prayeth not to be disdained, refused, mistrusted, nor forsaken. Disdain me not without desert, Refuse me not without cause why, Since that by lot of fantacy, This careful knot needs knit I must. Mistrust me not, though some there be, Forsake me not 'till I deserve, Nor hate me not, 'till I offend; But since ye know what I intend. Disdain me not that am your own; Refuse me not, that am so true; Mistrust me not, 'till all be known; D |