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All thy fellow birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing.
Even so, poor bird, like thee,
None alive will pity me.
Whilst as fickle fortune smil'd, Thou and I were both beguild. Every one that flatters thee, Is no friend in misery. Words are easy like the wind ; Faithful friends are hard to find. Every man will be thy friend, Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend; But if store of crowns be scant, No man will supply thy want. If that one be prodigal, Bountiful they will him call: And with such like flattering, "Pity but he were a king." If he be addict to vice, Quickly him they will entice; If to women he be bent, They have him at commandement; But if fortune once do frown, Then farewell his great renown: They that fawn'd on him before, Use his company no more. He that is thy friend indeed, He will help thee in thy need, If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep:
Thus of every grief in heart
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.
If musick and sweet poetry agree,
As they must needs, the sister and the brother,
Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me,
Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other.
Dowland 8 to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense ;
Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such,
As passing all conceit, needs no defence.
Thou lov’st to hear the sweet melodious sound,
That Phæbus' late, the queen of musick, makes ;
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd,
Whenas himself to singing he betakes.
One god is god of both, as poets feign;
One knight loves both, and both in thee remain.
VERSES AMONG THE ADDITIONAL POEMS TO
CHESTER'S LOVE'S MARTYR, 1601.
Let the bird of loudest lay,
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.
And thou, treble-dated crow,
That thy sable gender mak'st
With the breath thou giv'st and tak’st,
'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
Here the anthem doth commence:
Love and constancy is dead ;
Phænix and the turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.
So they lov'd, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none:
Number there in love was slain.
i de functire can] i, e knows, understands funeral music.
Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
Distance, and no space was seen
'Twixt the turtle and his queen:
But in them it were a wonder.
So between them love did shine,
That the turtle saw his right
Flaming in the phenix' sight:
Either was the other's mine.
Property was thus appall'd,
That the self was not the same;
Single nature's double name
Neither two nor one was call’d.
Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together;
To themselves yet either-neither,
Simple were so well compounded:
Beauty, truth, and rarity,
Grace in all simplicity.
Here inclos'd in cinders lie.
Death is now the phonix' nest;
And the turtle's loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,
Leaving no posterity:-
'Twas not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.
Truth may seem, but cannot be ;
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.
To this urn let those repair
That are either true or fair ;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.