For Venus taught him still this rest to set, That he was young, and might be wanton yet. Where Venus strikes with beauty to the quick, But love then, though I wanton it awry, In pomp sits Mercy seated in her face; Her eyes shine favour, courtesy, and grace; But touch her heart, ah, that is fram'd of flint! Therefore my harvest in the grass bears grain; The rock will wear, wash'd with a winter's rain. SONNET, IN ANSWER TO THE PRECEDING. THE Siren Venus nouric'd* in her lap Fair Adon, swearing whiles he was a youth He might be wanton: note his after-hap, The guerdon that such lawless lust ensu'th; So long he follow'd flattering Venus' lore, Till, seely lad, he perish'd by a boar. Mars in his youth did court this lusty dame, He won her love; what might his fancy let? He was but young: at last, unto his shame, Vulcan entrapp'd them slyly in a net, And call'd the gods to witness as a truth, A lecher's fault was not excus'd by youth. If crooked age accounteth youth his spring, The spring, the fairest season of the year, Enrich'd with flowers, and sweets, and many a thing, That fair and gorgeous to the eyes appear; It fits that youth, the spring of man, should be 'Rich'd with such flowers as virtue yieldeth thee. SONNET. FAIR is my love, for April in her face, But cold December dwelleth in her heart: Blest be the months that set my thoughts on fire, Accurs'd that month that hindereth my desire! Like Phoebus' fire, so sparkle both her eyes; As air perfum'd with amber is her breath; Like swelling waves her lovely teats do rise; As earth her heart, cold, dateth me to death: Ay me, poor man, that on the earth do live, When unkind earth death and despair doth give! nouric'd] i. e. nursed,-fondled. SONNET. PHILLIS kept sheep along the western plains, And Coridon did feed his flocks hard by: This shepherd was the flower of all the swains That trac'd the downs of fruitful Thessaly; And Phillis, that did far her flocks surpass In silver hue, was thought a bonny lass. A bonny lass, quaint in her country 'tire, Was lovely Phillis, Coridon swore so; Her locks, her looks, did set the swain on fire, He left his lambs, and he began to woo ; He look'd, he sigh'd, he courted with a kiss, No better could the silly swad* than this. He little knew to paint a tale of love, Shepherds can fancy, but they cannot say : Phillis gan smile, and wily thought to prove What uncouth grief poor Coridon did pay; She ask'd him how his flocks or he did fare, Yet pensive thus his sighs did tell his care. The shepherd blush'd when Phillis question'd so, And swore by Pan it was not for his flock[s]; ""Tis love, fair Phillis, breedeth all this woe, My thoughts are trapt within thy lovely locks, Thine eye hath pierc'd, thy face hath set on fire; Fair Phillis kindleth Coridon's desire." "Can shepherds love?" said Phillis to the swain. "Such saints as Phillis," Coridon replied. "Men when they lust can many fancies feign," Said Phillis. This not Coridon denied, That lust had lies; "But love," quoth he, "says truth: Thy shepherd loves, then, Phillis, what ensu'th?" Phillis was won, she blush'd and hung the head; The swain stept to, and cheer'd her with a kiss: With faith, with troth, they struck the matter dead; So used they when men thought not amiss: * swad] i. e. clown, bumpkin. FROM PANDOSTO, THE TRIUMPH OF TIME. (ED. 1694.) Dorastus* in love-passion writes these few lines in praise of his loving and best-beloved Fawnia. AH, were she pitiful as she is fair, Or but as mild as she is seeming so, Then were my hopes greater than my despair, Then all the world were heaven, nothing woe. Ah, were her heart relenting as her hand, That seems to melt even with the mildest touch, Then knew I where to seat me in a land, Under wide heavens, but yet [there is] not such. So as she shows, she seems the budding rose, Yet sweeter far than is an earthly flower, Sovereign of beauty, like the spray she grows; Compass'd she is with thorns and canker'd bower,+ Yet, were she willing to be pluck'd and worn, She would be gather'd, though she grew on thorn. Ah, when she sings, all music else be still, For none must be compared to her note; Ne'er breath'd such glee from Philomela's bill, Nor from the morning-singer's swelling throat. Ah, when she riseth from her blissful bed, She comforts all the world as doth the sun, And at her sight the night's foul vapour's fled; When she is set, the gladsome day is done. O glorious sun, imagine me the west, Shine in my arms, and set thou in my breast! BELLARIA'S EPITAPH. HERE lies entomb'd Bellaria fair, Falsely accus'd to be unchaste; Clear'd by Apollo's sacred doom, Yet slain by jealousy at last. Whate'er thou be that passeth by, Curse him that caus'd this queen to die. * Dorastus, &c.] I find this "love-passion" on the back of the title-page of some of the latest editions of this tract, when it was put forth under the name of Dorastus and Fawnia: in none of the earlier editions have I ever met with it. Mr. Collier conjectures that "it may possibly have been taken from the earliest, and now lost, edition of Pandosto." Introd. to Pandosto, p. iii,-Shakespeare's Library. tbower] The 4tos. "flower."-I adopt the conjecture of the Rev. J. Mitford (Gent. Mag. for March, 1833, p. 218), who compares a line in our author's Radagon's Sonnet (see post, p. 301, first col.), "Solemn and sad within a wither'd bower." FROM NEVER TOO LATE. (ED. 1590.) AN ODE. Down the valley gan he track, Bag and bottle at his back, Such wear palmers on the way, THE PALMER'S ODE. Once was young and full of glee. *he] The 4to. "she" (and our early poets sometimes make "Love" feminine-the Queen of Love): but presently we have "Love himself." t approve] i. c. prove. "Blithe and wanton was I then : With her face to feed mine eye : That my heart with love had hit, Was a brand of love's fire, Which consumeth men in thrall, Bet desire from my heart, Shook off love, and made an oath Old I was when thus I fled Such fond toys as cloy'd my head; THE HERMIT'S VERSES. HERE look, my son, for no vain-glorious shows Of royal apparition for the eye: If that the world presents illusions, I sigh, and say, "All flesh is like to grass." If care to live, or sweet delight in life, As man desires to see out many days, ISABEL'S ODE. SITTING by a river-side, Where a silent stream did glide, Such a flame as fireth men, With one blaze both heart and eye, Such a heat as doth prove No heat like to heat of love. Bright she was, for 'twas a she That trac'd her steps towards me: On her head she ware a bay, For love's peace is mind's strife. Till sweet love their woes hath wrought: 'O my heart that trow'd mine eye!"" FRANCESCO'S ODE. WHEN I look about the place Where sorrow nurseth up disgrace, Wrapt within a fold of cares, Whose distress no heart spares; Eyes might look, but see no light, Heart might think, but on despite ; Sun did shine, but not on me : Sorrow said, it may not be That heart or eye should once possess Any salve to cure distress; borrow] i. e. give warrant,-assure us. tgin] The 4to. "gan." trow'd mine eye] i. e. believed mine eye. For men in prison must suppose Words that made all hearts to break, Such perfume for love is meet, CANZONE. As then the sun sat lordly in his pride, Not shadow'd with the veil of any cloud, The welkin had no rack that seem'd to glide, No dusky vapour did bright Phoebus shroud; No blemish did eclipse the beauteous sky From setting forth heaven's secret-searching eye. No blustering wind did shake the shady trees, Each leaf lay still and silent in the wood; The birds were musical; the labouring bees, That in the summer heap their winter's good, Plied to their hives sweet honey from those flowers Whereout the serpent strengthens all his powers. The lion laid and stretch'd him in the lawns; No storm did hold the leopard from his prey; The fallow-fields were full of wanton fawns; The plough-swains never saw a fairer day; For every beast and bird did take delight To see the quiet heavens to shine so bright. When thus the winds lay sleeping in the caves, The air was silent in her concave sphere, And Neptune with a calm did please his slaves, Ready to wash the never-drenched bear; Then did the change of my affects begin, And wanton love assay'd to snare me in. *shine, &c.] Compare, ante, p. 293, sec. col.; eyes shine favour, courtesy, and grace." "Her Leaning my back against a lofty pine, Whose top did check the pride of all the air, Fixing my thoughts, and with my thoughts mine eyne, Upon the sun, the fairest of all fair; "What thing made God so fair as this?" quoth I: And thus I mus'd until I dark'd mine eye. Finding the sun too glorious for my sight, So gorgeous as my senses all were damp; + Her pace was like to Juno's pompous strains, Whenas she sweeps through heaven's brasspaved way; Her front was powder'd through with azur'd veins, That 'twixt sweet roses and fair lilies lay, Reflecting such a mixture from her face As tainted Venus' beauty with disgrace. Arctophylax, the brightest of the stars, Was not so orient as her crystal eyes, Wherein triumphant sat both peace and wars, From out whose arches such sweet favour § flies As might reclaim Mars in his highest rage, The diamond gleams not more reflecting lights, Pointed with fiery pyramids to shine, Than are those flames that burnish in our sights, Darting fire out the crystal of her eyne, Able to set Narcissus' thoughts on fire, Although he swore him foe to sweet desire. Gazing upon this leman with mine eye, I felt my sight vail** bonnet to her looks; So deep a passion to my heart did fly As I was trapt within her luring hooks,++ Forc'd to confess, before that I had done, Her beauty far more brighter than the sun. appear'd] The 4to. "appeare." + damp] The 4to. " dampt." I win] i. e. win the prize (the golden apple) from Paris. $ favour] The 4to. "fauours." Pointed] The 4to. "Painted." leman] i. e. love, mistress. ** vail] i. e. lower. INFIDA'S SONG. SWEET Adon, dar'st not glance thine eye- Je vous en prie, pity me; See how sad thy Venus lies, N'oserez vous, mon bel ami ?— Thy face as fair as Paphos' brooks,— Thy cheeks like cherries that do grow— Thy lips vermilion, full of love,- Thine eyes, like flames of holy fires,- All thy beauties sting my heart; I must die through Cupid's dart; Wilt thou let thy Venus die? Je vous en prie, pity me; |