I might perceive a wolf' as white as whalèsbone;
A fairer beast of fresher hue, beheld I never none;
Save that her looks were coy, and forward eke her
[арасе.
Unto the which this gentle beast 'gan him advance
And with a beck' full low he bowed at her feet,

grace:

In humble wise, as who would say, 'I am too far unmeet.'

But such a scornful chere, wherewith she him rewarded! Was never seen, I trow, the like, to such as well deserved.

With that she start aside well near a foot or twain, And unto him thus 'gan she say, with spite and great disdain:

6

Lion,' she said, 'if thou hadst known my mind before, Thou hadst not spent thy travail thus, nor all thy pain

5

for-lore.3 [me: Do way! I let thee weet, thou shalt not play with Go range about, where thou mayst find some meter fere for thee.'

With that he beat his tail, his eyes began to flame;
I might perceive his noble heart much moved by the

same.

Yet saw I him refrain, and eke his wrath assuage,
And unto her thus 'gan he say, when he was past

his rage:

1 Drayton was of opinion that the lady represented by the wolf was the Lady Stanhope, afterwards married to the Protector Somerset. The wolf is still retained in the arms of the Stanhope family. There is no evidence that the Fitzgeralds ever bore a wolf as any part of their cognizance, except a MS. in the Harleian Collection, cited by Dr. Nott, in which a wolf is given as the crest of the Earl of Kildare in the time of Henry VIII. Even without that authority, however, Dr. Nott thinks there would have been sufficient ground for assuming Geraldine to have been the person designated, from the fact that the term wolf was frequently applied to Ireland and the Irish. But, as it was seldom so applied except in derision or contempt, it would scarcely have been selected by Surrey on this occasion.

2 A beck was a bend of the knee as well as a bow of the head.-HALLIWELL'S Dictionary of Archaic Words.

3 Lost, or thrown away.

4 Equivalent to cease. 5 Sometimes wete, to know. I let thee know.'

'Cruel! you do me wrong, to set me thus so light; Without desert for my good will to show me such despite.

How can ye thus intreat a lion of the race,

That with his paws a crowned king devoured in the place.1

Whose nature is to prey upon no simple food,

As long as he may suck the flesh, and drink of noble blood.

If you be fair and fresh, am I not of your hue?2

And for my vaunt I dare well say, my blood is not

untrue.

For you yourself have heard, it is not long ago,

Sith that for love one of the race did end his life

in woe,

In tower both strong and high, for his assured truth, Whereas in tears he spent his breath, alas! the more the ruth.

This gentle beast so died, whom nothing could remove,
But willingly to lose his life for loss of his true love.3
Other there be whose lives do linger still in pain,
Against their wills preserved are, that would have died
right fain.

But now I do perceive that nought it moveth you,
My good intent, my gentle heart, nor yet my kind so true.
But that your will is such to lure me to the trade,
As other some full many years trace by the craft ye
made.

And thus behold my kinds, how that we differ far;
I seek my foes; and you your friends do threaten still
with war.

1 Alluding to the battle of Flodden field, at which Surrey's grandfather commanded the English forces against James of Scotland, who was slain in the fight.

2 Am I not your equal?

3 The allusion here is to Thomas Howard, second son of the second Duke of Norfolk, and half uncle to Surrey, who was attainted of high treason, and cast into prison, where he died, after a confinement of two years, for having affianced himself to the Lady Margaret Douglas, daughter to Margaret, queen of Scotland, and sister to Henry VIII.

I fawn where I am fled; you slay, that seeks to you; I can devour no yielding prey; you kill where you subdue.

My kind is to desire the honour of the field;

And you with blood to slake your thirst on such as to you yield.

Wherefore I would you wist, that for your coyed looks I am no man that will be trapped, nor tangled with such hooks. [they might And though some lust to love, where blame full well And to such beasts of current sought, that should have travail bright;

I will observe the law that Nature gave to me,

To conquer such as will resist, and let the rest go free. And as a falcon free, that soareth in the air,

Which never fed on hand nor lure; nor for no stale doth care;

While that I live and breathe, such shall my custom be In wildness of the woods to seek my prey, where pleaseth me;

Where many one shall rue, that never made offence: Thus your refuse against my power shall boot them no defence.

And for revenge thereof I vow and swear thereto,
A thousand spoils I shall commit I never thought to do.
And if to light on you my luck so good shall be,

I shall be glad to feed on that, that would have fed

on me.

And thus farewell, Unkind, to whom I bent and bow; I would you wist, the ship is safe that bare his sails so low.

Sith that a Lion's heart is for a Wolf no prey,

With bloody mouth go slake your thirst on simple sheep, I say,

1 The piece of meat by which falcons were lured back.

2 Dr. Nott gives a different version of this line, which supplies the rhyme by a repetition of the same word:

'And thus farewell, unkind, to whom I bent too low.'

With more despite and ire than I can now express ; Which to my pain, though I refrain, the cause you may well guess.

As for because myself was author of the game,

It boots me not that for my wrath I should disturb the same.'

THE FAITHFUL LOVER

DECLARETH HIS PAINS AND HIS UNCERTAIN JOYS, AND WITH ONLY HOPE RECOMFORTETH SOMEWHAT HIS WOEFUL HEART.

IF

my

F care do cause men cry, why do not I complain? If each man do bewail his woe, why show not I pain? Since that amongst them all, I dare well say is none So far from weal, so full of woe, or hath more cause to

moan.

For all things having life, sometime hath quiet rest;
The bearing ass, the drawing ox, and every other beast;
The peasant, and the post, that serves at all assays;
The ship-boy, and the galley-slave, have time to take
their ease;

Save I, alas! whom care, of force doth so constrain,
To wail the day, and wake the night, continually in pain.
From pensiveness to plaint, from plaint to bitter tears,
From tears to painful plaint again; and thus my life
it wears.

No thing under the sun, that I can hear or see,
But moveth me for to bewail my cruel destiny.
For where men do rejoice, since that I cannot so,
I take no pleasure in that place, it doubleth but
And when I hear the sound of song or instrument,
Methink each tune there doleful is, and helps me to
lament.

my woe.

And if I see some have their most desired sight, Alas!' think I, ‘each man hath weal save I, most woful wight.'

Then as the stricken deer withdraws himself alone,
So do I seek some secret place, where I may

moan.

make my

There do my flowing eyes show forth my melting heart; So that the streams of those two wells right well declare my smart.

And in those cares so cold, I force myself a heat (As sick men in their shaking fits procure themselves to sweat) [pain: With thoughts, that for the time do much appease my But yet they cause a farther fear, and breed my woe

again.

Methink within my thought I see right plain appear My heart's delight, my sorrow's leech, mine earthly goddess here,

With every sundry grace, that I have seen her have: Thus I within my woful breast her picture paint and

grave.

And in my thought I roll her beauties to and fro; Her laughing chere, her lively look, my heart that pierced so;

Her strangeness when I sued her servant for to be ;1 And what she said, and how she smiled, when that she pitied me.

1 Dr. Nott explains this expression of sueing the lady to be her servant, in the sense in which it was understood in the age of chivalry, when a person who had approved himself worthy of being received as her lover openly, was recognised formally as such, under the name of her servant, her servant d'amour.' He therefore concludes that Surrey sued the fair Geraldine to be her servant-that is, her open lover; and that the strangeness' with which she received his suit was merely the 'modest reluctance and timidity of a well-regulated female mind.' These forced constructions go a great way towards disenchanting us of the suggestive obscurity of the passion depicted under so many various forms by the gallant poet. It was not usual in the days of chivalry for married knights to sue for the permission of ladies to become their servants, or open lovers,-a privilege very properly reserved for those who had the power of placing their lives, unfettered by other ties and obligations, at the feet of their mistresses; and if Surrey really did in his own person make such a suit to the fair Geraldine, the strangeness' with which she received it was highly creditable to her, but not exactly as an evidence of reluctance and timidity.