That well agree withouten breach or jar. So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she, But, most of all, the damzels doe delite Adornd with beautyes grace and vertues When they their tymbrels smyte,

store? And thereunto doe daunce and carrol Her goodly eyes lyke saphyres shining sweet,

bright, That all the sences they doe ravish quite; Her forehead yvory white, The whyles the boyes run up and downe Her cheekes lyke apples which the sun the street,

hath rudded, Crying aloud with strong confusèd noyce, Her lips lykecherryes charming men to byte, As if it were one voyce,

Her brest like to a bowle of creame unHymen, iö Hymen, Hymen, they do shout;

crudded, That even to the heavens theyr shouting Her paps lyke lyllies budded, shrill

Her snowie necke lyke to a marble Doth reach, and all the firmament doth fill; . towre; To which the people standing all about, And all her body like a pallace fayre, As in approvance, doe thereto applaud, Ascending up, with many a stately stayre, And loud advaunce her laud ;

To honors seat and chastities sweet bowre. And evermore they Hymen, Hymen sing, Why stand ye still ye virgins in amaze, That al the woods them answer, and theyr Upon her so to gaze, eccho ring

Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing,

To which the woods did answer, and your Loe! where she comes along with portly eccho ring?

pace, Lyke Phæbe, from her chamber of the But if ye saw that which no eyes can see, East;

The inward beauty of her lively spright, Arysing forth to run her mighty race, Garnisht with heavenly guifts of high Clad all in white, that seemes a virgin best.

degree, So well it her beseemes, that ye would Much more then would ye wonder at that

sight, Some angell she had beene.

And stand astonisht lyke to those which red Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden Medusaes mazeful hed. wyre,

There dwels sweet love, and constant Sprinckled with perle, and perling flowres chastity, atweene,

Unspotted fayth, and comely womanhood, Doe lyke a golden mantle her attyre; Regard of honour, and mild modesty; And, being crowned with a girland greene, There vertue raynes as queene in royal Seeme lyke some mayden queene.

throne, Her modest eyes, abashed to behold And giveth lawes alone, So many gazers as on her do stare, The which the base affections doe obay, Upon the lowly ground affixed are; And yeeld theyr services unto her will; Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold, Ne thought of thing uncomely ever may But blush to heare her prayses sung so Thereto approch to tempt her mind to ill. loud,

Had ye once seene these her celestial So farre from being proud.

threasures, Nathlesse doe ye still loud her prayses And unrevealèd pleasures, sing,

Then would ye wonder, and her prayses That all the woods may answer, and your sing, eccho ring.

That al the woods should answer, and your

echo ring. Tell me, ye merchants daughters, did ye

Open the temple gates unto my love, So fayre a creature in your towne before; Open them wide that she may enter in,

weene

see

And all the postes adorne as doth behove, Never had man more joyfull day then this, And all the pillours deck with girlands Whom heaven would heape with blis, trim,

Make feast therefore now all this live-long For to receyve this saynt with honour dew,

day; That commeth in to you.

This day for ever to me holy is. With trembling steps, and humble rever- Poure out the wine without restraint or ence,

stay, She commethin, before th’Almighties Poure not by cups, but by the belly full, view;

Pour out to all that wull, Of her ye virgins learne obedience,

And sprinkle all the postes and wals with When so ye come into those holy places,

wine, To humble your proud faces :

That they may sweat, and drunken be Bring her up to th' high altar, that she may

,

withall. The sacred ceremonies there partake, Crowne ye God Bacchus with a coronall, The which do endlesse matrimony make; And Hymen also crowne with wreathes of And let the roring organs loudly play

vine; The praises of the Lord in lively notes; And let the Graces daunce unto the rest, The whiles, with hollow throates,

For they can doo it best : The choristers the joyous antheme sing, The whiles the maydens doe theyr carroll That al the woods may answere, and their sing, eccho ring.

To which the woods shall answer, and theyr

eccho ring Behold, whiles she before the altar stands, Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes, Ring ye the bels, ye yong men of the towne, And blesseth her with his two happy hands, And leave your wonted labors for this day: How the red roses flush up in her cheekes, This day is holy; doe ye write it downe, And the pure snow, with goodly vermill That

ye

for ever it remember may. stayne

This day the sunne is in his chiefest hight, Like crimsin dyde in grayne:

With Barnaby the bright, That even th' angles, which continually From whence declining daily by degrees, About the sacred altare doe remaine, He somewhat loseth of his heat and light, Forget their service and about her fly, When once the Crab behind his back he Ofte peeping in her face, that seems more fayre,

But for this time it ill ordainèd was, The more they on it stare.

To chose the longest day in all the yeare, But her sad eyes, still fastened on the And shortest night, when longest fitter

ground, Are governed with goodly modesty, Yet never day so long, but late would That suffers not one looke to glaunce awry,

passe. Which may let in a little thought unsownd. Ring ye the bels, to make it weare away, Why blush ye, love, to give to me your And bonefiers make all day; hand,

And daunce about them, and about them The pledge of all our band!

sing, Sing, ye sweet Angels, Alleluya sing, That all the woods may answer, and your That all the woods may answere,

and
your

eccho ring.
eccho ring.

Ah! when will this long weary day have Now al is done: bring home the bride

end, againe;

And lende me leave to come unto my Bring home the triumph of our victory:

love? Bring home with you the glory of her gaine; How slowly do the houres theyr numbers With joyance bring her and with jollity,

spend?

sees.

weare:

a

How slowly does sad Time his feathers Hast sumd in one, and cancelled for aye: move?

Spread thy broad wing over my love and Hast thee, O fayrest planet, to thy home,

me, Within the westerne fome:

That no man may us see; Thy tyrèd steedes long since have need of And in thy sable mantle us enwrap, rest.

From feare of perrill and foule horror free. Long though it be, at last I see it gloome, Let no false treason seeke us to entrap, And the bright evening-star with golden Nor any dread disquiet once annoy creast

The safety of our joy; Appeare out of the east.

But let the night be calme, and quietsome, Fayre childe of beauty! glorious lampe of Without tempestuous storms or sad afray: love!

Lyke as when Jove with fayre Alcmena That all the host of heaven in rankes doost

lay, lead,

When he begot the great Tirynthian And guydest lovers through the nights sad

groome: dread,

Or lyke as when he with thy selfe did lie How chearefully thou lookest from above, And begot majesty. And seemst to laugh atweene thy twinkling And let the mayds and yong men cease to light,

sing; As joying in the sight

Ne let the woods them answer nor theyr Of these glad many, which for joy doe sing,

eccho ring. That all the woods them answer, and their echo ring.

Let no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares,

Be heard all night within, nor yet without : Now ceasse, ye damsels, your delights Ne let false whispers, breeding hidden fore-past;

feares, Enough it is that all the day was youres : Breake gentle sleepe with misconceived Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast,

dout. Now bring the bryde into the brydall Let no deluding dreames, nor dreadfull boures.

sights, The night is come, now soon her disaray, Make sudden sad affrights; And in her bed her lay;

Ne let house-fyres, nor lightnings helpelesse Lay her in lillies and in violets,

harmes, And silken courteins over her display, Ne let the Pouke, nor other evill sprights, And odourd sheetes, and arras coverlets. Ne let mischivous witches with theyr Behold how goodly my faire love does ly,

charmes, In proud humility!

Ne let hob goblins, names whose sence we Like unto Maia, when as Jove her took

see not, In Tempe, lying on the flowry gras, Fray us with things that be not: Twixt sleepe and wake, after she weary was, Let not the shriech oule nor the storke be With bathing in the Acidalian brooke.

heard, Now it is night, ye damsels may be gon, Nor the night raven, that still deadly And leave my love alone,

yels; And leave likewise your former lay to sing: Nor damnèd ghosts, cald up with mighty The woods no more shall answere, nor your

spels, echo ring.

Nor griesly vultures, make us once affeard :

Ne let th' unpleasant quyre of frogs still Now welcome, night! thou night so long

croking expected,

Make us to wish theyr choking. That long daies labour doest at last defray, Let none of these theyr drery accents sing; And all my cares, which cruell Love col- Ne let the woods them answer, nor theyr

eccho ring

lected,

But let stil Silence trew night-watches Till which we cease our hopefull hap to keepe,

sing; That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne,

Ne let the woods us answere, nor our And tymely Sleep, when it is tyme to

eccho ring. sleepe, May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant And thou, great Juno! which with awful playne:

might The whiles an hundred little wingèd lovesThe lawes of wedlock still dost patronize; Like divers-fethered doves,

And the religion of the faith first plight Shall fly and flutter round about your bed, With sacred rites has taught to solemnize; And in the secret darke, that none re- And eeke for comfort often callèd art proves,

Of women in their smart; Their prety stealthes shal worke, and Eternally bind thou this lovely band, snares shal spread

And all thy blessings unto us impart. To filch away sweet snatches of delight, And thou, glad Genius! in whose gentle Conceald through covert night.

hand Ye sonnes of Venus, play your sports at The bridale bowre and geniall bed remaine will!

Without blemish or staine; For greedy pleasure, carelesse of your And the sweet pleasures of theyr loves toyes,

delight Thinks more upon her paradise of joyes, With secret ayde doest succour and supply, Then what ye do, albe it good or ill. Till they bring forth the fruitfull progeny; All night therefore attend your merry play, Send us the timely fruit of this same night. For it will soone be day :

And thou, fayre Hebe! and thou, Hymen Now none doth hinder you, that say or

free! sing;

Grant that it may so be. Ne will the woods now answer, nor your

Til which we cease your further prayse to eccho ring

sing;

Ne any woods shall answer, nor your Who is the same, which at my window

eccho ring peepes? Or whose is that faire face that shines so And ye high heavens, the temple of the bright?

gods, Is it not Cynthia, she that never sleepes, In which a thousand torches flaming bright But walkes about high heaven al the Doe burne, that to us wretched earthly night?

clods O! fayrest goddesse, do thou not envy In dreadful darknesse lend desired light; My love with me to spy :

And all ye powers which in the same For thou likewise didst love, though now

remayne, unthought,

More then we men can fayne! And for a fleece of wooll, which privily Poure out your blessing on us plentiously, The Latmian shepherd once unto thee And happy influence upon us raine, brought,

That we may raise a large posterity, His pleasures with thee wrought.

Which from the earth, which they may Therefore to us be favorable now;

long possesse And sith of wemens labours thou has With lasting happinesse, charge,

Up to your haughty pallaces may mount; And generation goodly dost enlarge, And, for the guerdon of theyr glorious Encline thy will t'effect our wishfull vow,

merit, And the chast wombe informe with timely May heavenly tabernacles there inherit, seed.

Of blessèd saints for to increase the count. That may our comfort breed:

So let us rest, sweet love, in hope of this,

a

And cease till then our tymely joyes to

sing: The woods no more us answer, nor our

eccho ring!

I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven:
My true love hath my heart, and I

have his.

Song! made in lieu of many ornaments, His heart in me keeps him and me in one, With which my love should duly have been My heart in him his thoughts and senses dect,

guides : Which cutting off through hasty accidents, He loves my heart, for once it was his own, Ye would not stay your dew time to expect,

I cherish his because in me it bides : But promist both to recompens;

My true love hath my heart, and I Be unto her a goodly ornament,

have his. And for short time an endlesse moniment.

HIS LADY'S CRUELTY
NICHOLAS BRETON

With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st PHYLLIDA AND CORYDON

the skies!

How silently, and with how wan a face! In the merry month of May,

What! may it be that even in heavenly In a morn by break of day,

place Forth I walk'd by the wood-side

That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? When as May was in his pride:

Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted There I spied all alone

eyes Phyllida and Corydon.

Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's Much ado there was, God wot!

case: He would love and she would not.

I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd grace She said, Never man was true;

To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. He said, None was false to you.

Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, He said, He had loved her long;

Is constant love deem'd there but want of She said, Love should have no wrong.

wit ? Corydon would kiss her then;

Are beauties there as proud as here they She said, Maids must kiss no men

be? Till they did for good and all;

Do they above love to be loved, and yet Then she made the shepherd call

Those lovers scorn whom that love doth All the heavens to witness truth

possess? Never loved a truer youth.

Do they call “virtue” there ungrateThus with many a pretty oath,

fulness? Yea and nay, and faith and troth, Such as silly shepherds use

THE HIGHWAY When they will not Love abuse, Love, which had been long deluded, HIGHWAY, since you my chief Parnassus be, Was with kisses sweet concluded;

And that my Muse, to some ears not unAnd Phyllida, with garlands gay,

sweet, Was made the Lady of the May.

Tempers her words to trampling horses'

feet SIR PHILIP SIDNEY

More oft than to a chamber-melody,

Now blessèd you bear onward blessèd me THE BARGAIN

To her, where I my heart, safe-left, shall

meet; My true love hath my heart, and I have My Muse and I must you of duty greet his,

With thanks and wishes, wishing thankBy just exchange one for another given : fully;