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Prisoner in Windsor, he recounteth his pleasure there passed. [Abridged from 54 lines.]
So cruel prison how could betide, alas,
As proud Windsor! where I, in lust and joy,
With a king's son my childish years did pass
Where each sweet place returns a taste full sower! The large green courts, where we were wont to hove,
With eyes cast up into the maiden's tower,
The stately seats, the ladies bright of hue,
With words and looks that tygers could but rue;
The palm-play, where, despoiled for the game,
Have miss'd the ball, and got sight of our dame;
The gravel ground, with sleeves tied on the helm, On foaming horse, with swords, and friendly hearts,
With cheer as though one should another whelm: Where we have fought, and chased oft with darts.—■
The secret groves, which oft we made resound
Recording oft what grace each one had found,
The wild forest, the clothed holts with green, With reins avaled,' and swift ybreathed horse,
With cry of hounds, and merry blasts between, Where we did chase the fearful hart of force.*
The wide vales, eke, that harbour'd us each night,
The sweet accord, such sleeps as yet delight,
The secret thoughts imparted with such trust,
The friendship sworn, each promise kept so just,
1 Reins dropped.
* Chasse a forcer, Fr. is the chace in which the game is run down, in opposition to the chasse a tirtr, in which it is •hot.
VOL. II. E
- O place of bliss, renewer of my woes!
Give me account where is my noble fere,1 Whom in thy walls thou dost each night enclose, To other leefe, but unto me most dear.
On the death of Sir Thomas Wyatt.
Vers thy death do diversly bemoan: Some, that in presence of thy livelihed Lurked, whose breasts envy with hate had swoln, Yield Cajsar's tears upon Pompeius' head!
And some, that watched with the murderer's knife, With eager thirst to drink thy guiltless blood,
Whose practice brake that happy end of life, With envious tears to hear thy fame so good!
- But I, that knew what harbour'd in that head, What virtues rare were temper'd in that breast: Honour the place that such a jewel bred,
And kiss the ground whereas the corpse doth rest!—
The means to attain happy Life.
Martial, the things that do attain
The riches left, not got with pain;
The egal friend; no grudge, no strife;
No charge of rule nor governance; Without disease the healthful life;
The household of continuance;
The mean diet; no delicate fare;
True wisdom join'd with simpleness; The night discharged of all care,
Where wine the wit may not oppress:
The faithful wife, without debate;
Such sleep as may beguile the night: Contented with thine own estate,
Ne wish for death, ne fear his might. A praise of his Love, wherein he reproveth them that compare their ladies with his.
Give place, ye lovers, here before
That spent your boasts and brags in vain;
My lady's beauty passeth more
The best of yours, I dare well saine,
Than doth the sun the candle light,
Or brightest day the darkest night.
And thereto hath a troth as just,
As had Penelope the fair;
As it by writing sealed were:
I could rehearse, if that I would,
When she had lost the perfect mould,
With wringing hands how she did cry!
And what she said, I know it, I:
I know she swore, with raging mind,