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.

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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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Every beauteous flower

Boasteth in my power,

Birds and beasts my laws effect:

Myrrha thy fair mother,

Most of any other,

Did my lovely hests respect.

Be with me delighted,

Thou shalt be requited,

Every Nymph on thee shall tend:
All the Gods shall love thee,
Man shall not reprove thee:

Love himself shall be thy friend.'

'Wend thee from me, Venus,
I am not disposed;
Thou wring'st me too hard,

Prithee let me go;
Fie! what a pain it is
Thus to be enclosed,
If love begin in labour,
It will end in woe.'
'Kiss me, I will leave.'
'Here a kiss receive.'
'A short kiss I do it find:
Wilt thou leave me so?
Yet thou shalt not go;

Breathe once more thy balmy wind. It smelleth of the myrrh-tree,

That to the world did bring thee,

Never was perfume so sweet.'
When she had thus spoken,

She gave him a token,

And their naked bosoms meet.

'Now,' he said, 'let's go,
Hark, the hounds are crying,
Grisly Boar is up,

Huntsmen follow fast.'
At the name of Boar,
Vehus seemed dying,