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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,
It little 'vails sage Reason to reply; Few are the cares for such as are love-sick, But love : then, though I wanton it awry, And play the wag, from Adon this I get,—I am but young, and may bo wanton yet
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'J 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 'RicU'd with such flowers as virtue yieldeth thee.
FAIB is my love, for April in her faco,
Her lovely breasts September claims his part, And lordly July in her eyes takes place; But cold December dwelleth in her heart: Blest be the months that set my thoughts on fire, Accura'd that month that hindereth my desiro 1
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. o. nursed,—fondled.
In pomp sits Mercy seated in her face;
Love 'twixt her breasts bis trophies doth imprint; 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. 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 trae'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 kiBs, No better could the silly swad* than this.
He little knew to paint a tale Of lovo,
Shepherds can fancy, but they cannot say: Phillis gan smile, and wily thought to provo What uncouth grief poor Coridon did pay; She ask'd him how his flocks or ho did fare, Vet pensive thus his sighs did tell his core.
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 piere'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 1"
Phillis was won,she blush'd and hung the head;
* tvad] L o. clown, bumpkiu.
PANDOSTO, THE TRIUMPH OF TIME.
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 all the world were heaven, nothing woe. Ah, wero 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 Bhe shows, she seems the budding rose,
Yet sweeter far than is an earthly flower, Sovereign of beauty, like the spray she grows;
Compass'd Bhe is with thorns and cankerM bower,t Yet, were she willing to bo 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 gleo from Philomela's bill,
Nor from tho 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. 0 glorious sun, imagine me the west, Shine in my arms, and set thou in my breast!
Falsely accus'd to be unchaste;
Yet slain by jealouBy at last.
* Jhraftus, &c] I find this " love-passion" on tho back of tho title-page of some of the latest editions of this tract, when it was put forth under the name of Dorastus and Fawnia: in nono of tho 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,—Shaixspeart's Library.
t bower] The 4tos. "flower."—I adopt the conjecture of tho Rev. J. Mitford (Gent. Mag. for March, 1833, p. 218), who compares a line in our author's liadagon's Sonnet (see pott, p. 301, first col.).—
"Solemn and sad within a witfier'd bower."
NEVER TOO LATE.
Down the valley gan he track,
Bag and bottle at his back,
In a surcoat all of grey;
Such wear palmers on the way,
When with scrip and staff they see
Jesus' grave on Calvary:
A hat of straw, like a swain,
Shelter for the sun and rain,
With a scallop-shell before;
Sandals on his feet he wore;
Legs were bare, arms unclad:
Such attire this palmer had.
His face fair, like Titan's shine;
Grey and buxom wero his eyne,
Whereout dropt pearls of sorrow;
Such Bweet tears Love doth borrow.
When in outward dews he * plains
Ruby lips, cherry cheeks;
"Blithe and wanton was I then:
THE HERMITS VERSES. Hebe look, my son, for no vain-glorious show3 Of royal apparition for the eye: Humble and meek befitteth men of years. Behold my cell, built in a silent shade, Holding content for poverty and peace; And in my lodge is fealty and faith, Labour and love united in one league I want not, for my mind affordeth wealth; I know not envy, for I climb not high: Thus do I live, and thus I mean to die.
If that the world presents illusions,
Or Satau seeks to puff me up with pomp,
As man is frail and apt to follow pride;
Then see, my son, where I have iu my cell
A dead man's scull, which calls this straight to
That as this is, so must my ending be. [mind,
When, then, I see that earth to earth must pass,
I sigh, and say, "AH flesh is like to grass."
If care to live, or sweet delight in life,
When Satan seeks to sift me with his wiles,
Sittino by a river-side,
On her head she ware a bay,
To fence Phoebus' light away:
In her face one might descry
The curious beauty of the sky:
Her eyes carried darts of fire,
Feather'd all with swift desire;
Yet forth these fiery darts did pass
Pearled tears as bright as glass,
That wonder 'twas in her eyne
Fire and water should combine,
If the old saw did not borrow,*
Fire is love, and water Borrow.
Down she sat, pale and sad;
No mirth in her looks she had;
Face and eyes Bhow'd distress,
Inward sighs discours'd no less:
Head on hand might I see,
Elbow leaned on her knee.
Last she breathed out this saw,
"0, that love hath no law!
Love enforceth with constraint,
Love delighteth in complaint.
Whoso loves hates his life,
For love's peace is mind's strife.
Love doth feed on beauty's fare,
Every dish saue'd with care:
Chiefly women, reason why,
Love is hatch6d in their eye;
Thence it steppeth to the heart,
There it poisoneth every part,
Mind and heart, eye and thought,
Till sweet love their woes hath wrought:
Then repentant they gin t cry,
'0 my heart that trow'd mine eye J!'"
Thus she said, and then she rose,
Face and mind both full of woes;
Flinging thence with this saw,—
"Fie on love that hath no law!"
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;
* borrou] i. c. give warrant,—assure us.
t gin] The4to. "grin."
J trow'd mint eye] 1. e. believed mine eye.
For men in prison must suppose
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; tho 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 tho winds lay sleeping in the caves, The air was silent in her concave sphere, And Neptune with a calm did pleaso his slaves, Beady to wash the never-drenohed bear; Then did the change of my affects begin, And wanton love assay'd to snare me in.
* tldne, &e. ] Compare, ante, p. 293, »cc. col.; "Hor oyes thine favour, courtesy, and grace."
Leaning my back against a lofty pine,
Whose top did check the pride of all the
air, Fixing my thoughts, and with my thoughts
The diamond gleams not more reflecting