For as the snow, whose lawn did overspread
Th' ambitious hills, which giant-like did threat
To pierce the heaven with their aspiring head,
Naked and bare doth leave their craggy seat:
When as the bubble, which did empty fly,
The dalliance of the undiscerned wind,
On whose calm rolling waves it did rely,

Hath shipwreck made, where it did dalliance find:
And when the sunshine which dissolved the snow,
Coloured the bubble with a pleasant vary,
And made the rathe and timely primrose grow,
Swarth clouds withdraw, which longer time do tarry:
O what is praise, pomp, glory, joy, but so

As shine by fountains, bubbles, flowers or snow?
Edmund Bolton.

PHILLIDA AND CORYDON.

In the merry month of May,
In a morn by break of day,
Forth I walked by the wood-side,
When as May was in his pride:
There I spied all alone
Phillida and Corydon.

Much ado there was, God wot,
He would love and she would not.

She said never man was true,

He said, none was false to you.

He said, he had lov'd her long,

She said, Love should have no wrong.

Corydon would kiss her then,

She said, maids must kiss no men,

Till they did for good and all:
Then she made the shepherd call

All the heavens to witness truth:
Never lov'd a truer youth.
Thus with many a pretty oath,
Yea and nay, and faith and troth,

Such as silly shepherds use
When they will not Love abuse,
Love which had been long deluded,
Was with kisses sweet concluded,
And Phillida with garlands gay,
Was made the lady of the May.

Nicholas Breton.

TO COLIN CLOUT.

Beauty sat bathing by a spring,
Where fairest shades did hide her,
The winds blew calm, the birds did sing,
The cool streams ran beside her.
My wanton thoughts entic'd mine eye
To see what was forbidden :
But better memory said, fie,
So vain desire was chidden.
Hey nonnie, nonnie, &c.

Into a slumber then I fell,

When fond imagination

Seemed to see, but could not tell
Her feature or her fashion.

But even as babes in dreams do smile
And sometimes fall a weeping,

So I awaked, as wise this while,
As when I fell a sleeping.

Hey nonnie, nonnie, &c.

Shepherd Tonie.

PHILLIDA'S LOVE-CALL TO HER CORYDON, AND HIS REPLYING.

Phil. Corydon, arise my Corydon,

Titan shineth clear.

Cor. Who is it that calleth Corydon,

Who is it that I hear?

Phil. Phillida thy true love calleth thee,
Arise then, arise then ;

Arise and keep thy flock with mc.

Cor.

Phil.

Cor.

Phillida, my true love, is it she?

I come then, I come then,

I come and keep my flock with thee.

Here are cherries ripe my Corydon,
Eat them for my sake.

Here's my oaten pipe, my lovely one,
Sport for thee to make.

Phil. Here are threads, my true love, fine as silk,
To knit thee, to knit thee

Cor.

A pair of stockings white as milk.

Here are reeds, my true love, fine and neat,
To make thee, to make thee

A bonnet to withstand the heat.

Phil. I will gather flowers my Corydon,

Cor.

To set in thy cap.

I will gather pears, my lovely one,
To put in thy lap.

Phil. I will buy my true love garters gay,
For Sundays, for Sundays,

Cor.

To wear about his legs so tall.
I will buy my true love yellow say1,
For Sundays, for Sundays,

To wear about her middle small.

Phil. When my Corydon sits on a hill
Making melody:

Cor. When my lovely one goes to her wheel,
Singing cheerily.

Phil. Sure methinks my true love doth excel
For sweetness, for sweetness,

Cor.

Our Pan that old Arcadian knight.
And methinks my true love bears the bell
For clearness, for clearness,

Beyond the nymphs that be so bright.

Phil. Had my Corydon, my Corydon,

Been (alack) her2 swain:

1 Thin serge: Fr. saie.

2 The editions give 'my.'

Cor.

Had my lovely one, my lovely one,
Been in Ida plain :

Phil. Cynthia Endymion had refus'd,
Preferring, preferring,

Cor.

My Corydon to play withal:
The queen of love had been excus'd
Bequeathing, bequeathing,

My Phillida the golden ball.

Phil. Yonder comes my mother, Corydon,

Cor.

Cor.

Whither shall I fly?

Under yonder beech my lovely one,
While she passeth by.

Say to her thy true love was not here:
Remember, remember,

To-morrow is another day.

Doubt me not, my true love, do not fear:
Farewell then, farewell then,

Heaven keep our loves alway.

Ignoto.

[From Davison's Poetical Rapsody, 1602.]

A FICTION: HOW CUPID MADE A NYMPH WOUND HERSELF WITH HIS ARROWS.

It chanc'd of late a shepherd's swain,
That went to seek a strayed sheep,
Within a thicket on the plain,
Espied a dainty Nymph asleep.

Her golden hair o'erspread her face,
Her careless arms abroad were cast,
Her quiver had her pillow's place,
Her breast lay bare to every blast.

The shepherd stood and gaz'd his fill;
Nought durst he do, nought durst he say,
When chance, or else perhaps his will,
Did guide the God of Love that way.

The crafty boy that sees her sleep,
Whom if she wak'd, he durst not see,
Behind her closely seeks to creep,
Before her nap should ended be.

There come, he steals her shafts away,
And puts his own into their place;
Nor dares he any longer stay,

But ere she wakes, hies thence apace.

Scarce was he gone when she awakes,
And spies the shepherd standing by;
Her bended bow in haste she takes,
And at the simple swain let fly.

Forth flew the shaft and pierc'd his heart,
That to the ground he fell with pain;
Yet up again forthwith he start,
And to the Nymph he ran amain.

Amaz'd to see so strange a sight,

She shot, and shot, but all in vain;
The more his wounds, the more his might;
Love yieldeth strength in midst of pain.

Her angry eyes are great with tears,

She blames her hands, she blames her skill;
The bluntness of her shafts she fears,

And try them on herself she will.

Take heed, sweet Nymph, try not thy shaft,
Each little touch will prick the heart;
Alas! thou knowest not Cupid's craft,
Revenge is joy, the end is smart.

Yet try she will, and prick some bare,
Her hands were glov'd, and next to hand
Was that fair breast, that breast so rare,
That made the shepherd senseless stand.

That breast she prick'd, and through that breast
Love finds an entry to her heart;

At feeling of this new-come guest,

Lord, how the gentle Nymph doth start!