To let fair Venus die for woe,N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?That doth love sweet Adon so;

Je vous en prie, pity me; N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?

FRANCESCO'S ROUNDELAY.* SITTING and sighing in my secret muse, As once Apollo did surpris'd with love, Noting the slippery ways young years do use, What fond affects the prime of youth do move; With bitter tears, despairing I do cry, "Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!" When wanton age, the blossom † of my time, Drew me to gaze upon the gorgeous sight That beauty, pompous in her highest prime, Presents to tangle men with sweet delight; Then with despairing tears my thoughts did cry, "Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!" When I survey'd the riches of her looks, Whereout flew flames of never-quench'd desire, Wherein lay baits that Venus snares with hooks, Org where proud Cupid sat all-arm'd with fire; Then, touch'd with love, my inward soul did cry, "Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!" The milk-white galaxia of her brow, Where Love doth dance lavoltas of his skill, Like to the temple where true lovers vow To follow what shall please their mistress' will; Noting her ivory front, now do I cry, "Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!" Her face, like silver Luna in her shine, All tainted through with bright vermilion stains, T

Like lilies dipt in Bacchus' choicest wine, Powder'd and interseam'd with azur'd veins; Delighting in their pride, now may I cry, "Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!" The golden wires that checker in the day Inferior to the tresses of her hair,

Her amber trammels did my heart dismay, That, when I look'd, I durst not over-dare; Proud of her pride, now am I forc'd to cry, "Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!"

These fading beauties drew me on to sin, Nature's great riches fram'd my bitter ruth; These were the traps that love did snare me in, O, these, and none but these, have wreck'd my Misled by them, I may despairing cry, [youth! "Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!" By these I slipp'd from virtue's holy track, That leads unto the highest crystal sphere; By these I fell to vanity and wrack,

And as a man forlorn with sin and fear, Despair and sorrow do constrain me cry, "Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!"

*

THE PENITENT PALMER'S ODE.
WHILOM in the winter's rage,
A palmer old and full of age
Sat and thought upon his youth,
With eyes' tears and heart's ruth;
Being all with cares y-blent,*
When he thought on years mispent.
When his follies came to mind,
How fond love had made him blind,
And wrapt him in a field of woes,
Shadowed with pleasure's shows,
Then he sigh'd, and said, "Alas,
Man is sin, and flesh is grass!

I thought my mistress' hairs were gold,
And in their locks my heart I fold;
Her amber tresses were the sight
That wrapped me in vain delight:
Her ivory front, her pretty chin
Were stales that drew me on to sin:
Her starry looks, her crystal eyes,
Brighter than the sun's arise,
Sparkling pleasing flames of fire,
Yok'd my thoughts and my desire,
That I gan cry, ere I blin,‡

'O, her eyes are paths to sin!'

Her face was fair, her breath was sweet,
All her looks for love were meet;
But love is folly, this I know,
And beauty fadeth like to snow.
O, why should man delight in pride,
Whose blossom like a dew doth glide!
When these supposes touch'd my thought,
That world was vain and beauty nought,
I gan sigh, and say, 'Alas,

Man is sin, and flesh is grass!

y-blent] i. e. confounded: see note, p. 124, first col. stales] i. e. decoys.

blin] i. e. cease,-ceased.

ISABEL'S SONNET,

THAT SHE MADE IN PRISON.

No storm so sharp to rent the little reed,
For seld it breaks, though every way it bend;
The fire may heat, but not consume the flint;
The gold in furnace purer is indeed;
Report, that seld to honour is a friend,
May many lies against true meaning mint,
But yet at last

'Gainst slander's blast

Truth doth the silly sackless * soul defend.

Though false reproach seeks honour to distain,
And envy bites the bud though ne'er so pure;
Though lust doth seek to blemish chaste desire,
Yet truth that brooks not falsehood's slanderous
Nor can the spite of envy's wrath endure, [stain,
Will try true love from lust in justice' fire,
And, maugre all,

Will free from thrall

The guiltless soul that keeps his footing sure.
Where innocence triúmpheth in her prime,
And guilt cannot approach the honest mind;
Where chaste intent is free from any 'miss,+
Though envy strive, yet secret-searching time
With piercing insight will the truth outfind,
And make discovery who the guilty is;
For time still tries

The truth from lies,

And God makes open what the world doth blind.

FRANCESCO'S SONNET,

MADE IN THE PRIME OF HIS PENANCE.

WITH Sweating brows I long have plough'd the sands;

My seed was youth, my crop was endless care; Repent hath sent me home with empty hands At last, to tell how rife our follies are;

And time hath left experience to approve, § The gain is grief to those that traffic love.

The silent thoughts of my repentant years, That fill my head, have call'd me home at last; Now Love unmask'd a wanton wretch appears, Begot by guileful thought with over-haste;

In prime of youth a rose, in age a weed, That for a minute's joy pays endless need.

Dead to delights, a foe to fond conceit,
Allied to wit by want and sorrow bought,
Farewell, fond youth, long foster'd in deceit;
Forgive me, time, disguis'd in idle thought;
And, love, adieu: lo, hasting to mine end,
I find no time too late for to amend!

FRANCESCO'S SONNET,

CALLED HIS PARTING BLOW.

REASON, that long in prison of my will
Hast wept thy mistress' wants and loss of time,
Thy wonted siege * of honour safely climb;
To thee I yield as guilty of mine ill.
Lo, fetter'd in their tears, mine eyes are prest+
To pay due homage to their native guide:
My wretched heart, wounded with bad betide,
To crave his peace from reason is addrest.
My thoughts asham'd, since by themselves con-
sum'd,

Have done their duty to repentant wit:
Asham'd of all, sweet guide, I sorry sit,
To see in youth how I too far presum'd.
Thus he whom love and error did betray,
Subscribes to thee, and takes the better way.

EURYMACHUS' FANCY IN THE PRIME OF HIS AFFECTION.

WHEN lordly Saturn, in a sable robe,

Sat full of frowns and mourning in the west,
The evening-star scarce peep'd from out her lodge,
And Phoebus newly gallop'd to his rest;

Even then Did I

Within my boat sit in the silent streams,
All void of cares as he that lies and dreams.

As Phao, so a ferryman I was;

The country-lasses said I was too fair:
With easy toil I labour'd at mine oar,
To pass from side to side who did repair;
And then
Did I

For pains take pence, and Charon-like transport
As soon the swain as men of high import.

siege] i. o. seat. † prest] i. e. ready.

When want of work did give me leave to rest,
My sport was catching of the wanton fish:
So did I wear the tedious time away,
And with my labour mended oft my dish;
For why*

I thought

That idle hours were calendars of ruth, And time ill-spent was prejudice to youth.

I scorn'd to love; for were the nymph as fair As she that lov'd the beauteous Latmian swain, Her face, her eyes, her tresses, nor her brows Like ivory, could my affection gain;

For why I said

With high disdain, "Love is a base desire,
And Cupid's flames, why, they're but watery fire."

As thus I sat, disdaining of proud Love,
"Have over, ferryman," there cried a boy;
And with him was a paragon for hue,
A lovely damsel, beauteous and coy;
And there

With her

A maiden, cover'd with a tawny veil,'
Her face unseen for breeding lovers' bale.

I stirr'd my boat, and when I came to shore,
The boy was wing'd; methought it was a wonder;
The dame had eyes like lightning, or the flash
That runs before the hot report of thunder;
Her smiles

Were sweet,

Lovely her face; was ne'er so fair a creature, For earthly carcass had a heavenly feature.

"My friend," quoth she, "sweet ferryman, behold,
We three must pass, but not a farthing fare;
But I will give, for I am Queen of love,
The brightest lass thou lik'st unto thy share;
Choose where
Thou lov'st,

Be she as fair as Love's sweet lady is,
She shall be thine, if that will be thy bliss."

With that she smil'd with such a pleasing face
As might have made the marble rock relent;
But I, that triumph'd in disdain of love,
Bade fie on him that to fond love was bent,
And then

Said thus,

"So light the ferryman for love doth care, As Venus pass not, if she pay no fare."

For why] i. e. Because.

I cried,

Stay, ladies, stay, and take not any care,
You all shall pass, and pay no penny fare."

Away they fling, and looking coyly back,
They laugh at me, 0, with a loud disdain!
I send out sighs to overtake the nymph,t
And tears, as lures, to call them back again;
But they
Fly thence;

But I sit in my boat, with hand on oar,
And feel a pain, but know not what's the sore.
At last I feel it is the flame of love,

I strive, but bootless, to express the pain;
It cools, it fires, it hopes, it fears, it frets,
And stirreth passions throughout every vein;
That down
I sat,

And sighing did fair Venus' laws approve,
And swore no thing so sweet and sour as love.

RADAGON'S SONNET.

No clear appear'd upon the azur'd sky;
A veil of storms had shadow'd Phoebus' face,
And in a sable mantle of disgrace
Sat he that is y-clepèd‡ heaven's bright eye,

ear upon mine arm] The 4to. "arme rpon mine eare.' nymph] The 4to. "Nimphs"; but see the two preceding stanzas.

ty-clepèd] i.e. called.