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HENRY CONSTABLE.

[Born about 1555: died before 1616. His Diana was first published in 1592. An edition by Mr. W. C. Hazlitt was published by Pickering in 1859.]

Almost nothing is known of the life of Henry Constable. He belonged to a Yorkshire family; he was educated at Cambridge ; he was acquainted with the Earl of Essex, with Anthony Bacon, with the Earl of Shrewsbury and his wife, with the Countess of Pembroke and Lady Rich. His sonnets to the soul of Sir Philip Sidney seem to prove that he was honoured with the friendship of the auther of the Defence of Poesie. As a Catholic and an honest man,' as he calls himself, Constable could not escape suspicion in the suspicious England of his time. He passed much of his life in exile, wandering in France, Scotland, Italy, and Poland, and was acquainted with prisons and courts.

The slight but graceful genius of Constable is best defined by some of the epithets which his contemporary critics employed. They spoke of his 'pure, quick, and high delivery of conceit.' Ben Jonson alludes to his 'ambrosiac muse.' His secular poems are 'Certaine sweete sonnets in the praise of his mistress, Diana,' conceived in the style of Ronsard and the Italians. The verses of his later days, when he had learned, as he says, 'to live alone with God,' are also sonnets in honour of the saints, and chiefly of Mary Magdalene. They are ingenious, and sometimes too cleverly confuse the passions of divine and earthly love. In addition to the sonnets we have four pleasant lyrics which Constable contributed to England's Helicon. We select two of these pastorals, one being an idyllic dialogue between two shepherdesses; the other, 'The Shepherd's Song of Venus and Adonis.' These things have at once the freshness of a young, and the trivial grace of a decadent literature, so curiously varied were the influences of the Renaissance in England. Shakespeare and Constable begin where Bion leaves off. Constable was neither more nor less than a fair example of a poet who followed rather than set the fashion. His sonnets were charged and overladen with ingenious conceits, but the freshness, the music, of his more free and flowing lyrics remain, and keep their charm.

A. LANG.

A PASTORAL SONG BETWEEN PHILLIS AND AMARILLIS, TWO NYMPHS, EACH ANSWERING OTHER LINE FOR LINE

Phillis.

Fie on the sleights that men devise,
Heigh ho silly sleights:

When simple maids they would entice,
Maids are young men's chief delights.

Amarillis.

Nay, women they witch with their eyes,
Eyes like beams of burning sun:

And men once caught, they soon despise;
So are shepherds oft undone.

Phillis.

If any young man win a maid,

Happy man is he

By trusting him she is betrayed;

Fie upon such treachery.

Amarillis.

If Maids win young men with their guiles,

Heigh ho guileful grief;

They deal like weeping crocodiles,

That murder men without relief.

Phillis.

I know a simple country hind,

Heigh ho silly swain:

To whom fair Daphne proved kind,

Was he not kind to her again?
He vowed by Pan with many an oath,

Heigh ho shepherds God is he :

Yet since hath changed, and broke his troth,
Troth-plight broke will plagued be.

Amarillis.

She hath deceived many a swain,
Fie on false deceit :

And plighted troth to them in vain,
There can be no grief more great.
Her measure was with measure paid,
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho equal meed:
She was beguil'd that had betrayed,
So shall all deceivers speed.

Phillis.

If every maid were like to me,
Heigh-ho hard of heart:

Both love and lovers scorn'd should be,
Scorners shall be sure of smart.

Amarillis.

If every maid were of my mind

Heigh-ho, heigh-ho lovely sweet:

They to their lovers should prove kind, Kindness is for maidens meet.

Phillis.

Methinks, love is an idle toy,

Heigh-ho busy pain:

Both wit and sense it doth annoy,

Both sense and wit thereby we gain.

Amarillis.

Tush! Phillis, cease, be not so coy,
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, coy disdain :
I know you love a shepherd's boy,
Fie! that maidens so should feign!

Phillis.

Well, Amarillis, now I yield,

Shepherds, pipe aloud:

Love conquers both in town and field,

Like a tyrant, fierce and proud.

The evening star is up, ye see;
Vesper shines; we must away;
Would every lover might agree,
So we end our roundelay.

THE SHEPHERD'S SONG OF VENUS AND ADONIS.

Venus fair did ride,

Silver doves they drew her,

By the pleasant launds,

Ere the sun did rise:

Vesta's beauty rich

Opened wide to view her,

Philomel records

Pleasing harmonies.

Every bird of spring

Cheerfully did sing,

Paphos' goddess they salute;

Now Love's Queen so fair

Had of mirth no care:

For her son had made her mute.

In her breast so tender,

He a shaft did enter,

When her eyes beheld a boy:

Adonis was he named,

By his mother shamed':

Yet he now is Venus' joy.

Him alone she met

Ready bound for hunting;

Him she kindly greets,

And his journey stays;

Him she seeks to kiss,

No devises wanting;

Him her eyes still woo;

Him her tongue still prays.

He with blushing red

Hangeth down the head,

1 See the story of Myrrha in Ovid.

VOL. I.

Not a kiss can he afford;
His face is turned away,
Silence said her nay,

Still she woo'd him for a word.
'Speak,' she said, 'thou fairest ;
Beauty thou impairest,
See me, I am pale and wan:
Lovers all adore me,

I for love implore thee;'
-Crystal tears with that down ran.

Him herewith she forced

To come sit down by her,
She his neck embraced,
Gazing in his face:

He, like one transformed,
Stirred no look to eye her;
Every herb did woo him,
Growing in that place,
Each bird with a ditty
Prayed him for pity
In behalf of Beauty's Queen:
Water's gentle murmur

Craved him to love her :

Yet no liking could be seen;
'Boy,' she said, 'look on me,
Still I gaze upon thee,

Speak, I pray thee, my delight.'

Coldly he replied,

And in brief denied

To bestow on her a sight.

'I am now too young
To be won by beauty,

Tender are my years
I am yet a bud.'

'Fair thou art,' she said,
'Then it is thy duty,

Wert thou but a blossom,
To effect my good.

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