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diff --git a/27129-8.txt b/27129-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bcb506e --- /dev/null +++ b/27129-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7187 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lyrics from the Song-Books of the +Elizabethan Age, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Lyrics from the Song-Books of the Elizabethan Age + +Author: Various + +Editor: A. H. Bullen + +Release Date: November 2, 2008 [EBook #27129] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LYRICS *** + + + + +Produced by Bethanne M. Simms, Nigel Blower and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + + + + + CENTRE + for + REFORMATION + and + RENAISSANCE + STUDIES + + VICTORIA + UNIVERSITY + + TORONTO + + + + + LYRICS + FROM THE SONG-BOOKS OF THE + ELIZABETHAN AGE. + + + + +NOTE.--_Two hundred and fifty copies of this large paper edition +printed, each of which is numbered._ + +_No. 221._ + + + + + LYRICS + FROM THE SONG-BOOKS OF THE + ELIZABETHAN AGE: + + + Edited by + A.H. BULLEN. + + + LONDON: + JOHN C. NIMMO, +14, King William Street, Strand, W.C. + 1887. + + + + +CHISWICK PRESS:--C. Whittingham and Co., Tooks Court, Chancery Lane. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +The present Anthology is intended to serve as a companion volume to the +Poetical Miscellanies published in England at the close of the sixteenth +and the beginning of the seventeenth centuries. A few of the lyrics here +collected are, it is true, included in "England's Helicon," Davison's +"Poetical Rhapsody," and "The Ph[oe]nix' Nest"; and some are to be found +in the modern collections of Oliphant, Collier, Rimbault, Mr. W.J. +Linton, Canon Hannah, and Professor Arber. But many of the poems in the +present volume are, I have every reason to believe, unknown even to +those who have made a special study of Elizabethan poetry. I have gone +carefully through all the old song-books preserved in the library of the +British Museum, and I have given extracts from two books of which there +is no copy in our national library. A first attempt of this kind must +necessarily be imperfect. Were I to go over the ground again I should +enlarge the collection, and I should hope to gain tidings of some +song-books (mentioned by bibliographers) which I have hitherto been +unable to trace. + +In Elizabeth's days composers were not content to regard the words of a +song as a mere peg on which to hang the music, but sought the services +of true-born lyrists. It is not too much to say that, for delicate +perfection of form, some of the Elizabethan songs can compare with the +choicest epigrams in the Greek Anthology. At least one composer, Thomas +Campion, wrote both the words and the music of his songs; and there are +no sweeter lyrics in English poetry than are to be found in Campion's +song-books. But it may be assumed that, as a rule, the composers are +responsible only for the music. + +It was in the year of the Spanish Armada, 1588, that William Byrd +published "Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs of Sadness and Piety," the first +Elizabethan song-book of importance. Few biographical particulars +concerning Byrd have come down. As he was senior chorister of St. Paul's +in 1554, he is conjectured to have been born about 1538. From 1563 to +1569 he was organist of Lincoln Cathedral. He and Tallis were granted a +patent, which must have proved fairly lucrative, for the printing of +music and the vending of music-paper. In later life he appears to have +become a convert to Romanism. His last work was published in 1611, and +he died at a ripe old age on the 24th of July, 1623. The "Psalms, +Sonnets, and Songs" are dedicated to Sir Christopher Hatton. In the +dedicatory epistle he terms the collection "this first printed work of +mine _in English_;" in 1575 he had published with Tallis "Cantiones +Sacræ." From the title one would gather that Byrd's first English +collection was mainly of a sacred character, but in an epistle to the +reader he hastens to set us right on that point:--"Benign reader, here +is offered unto thy courteous acceptance music of sundry sorts, and to +content divers humours. If thou be disposed to pray, here are psalms; if +to be merry, here are sonnets." There is, indeed, fare for all comers; +and a reader has only himself to blame if he goes away dissatisfied. In +those days, as in these, it was not uncommon for a writer to attribute +all faults, whether of omission or commission, to the luckless printer. +Byrd, on the other hand, solemnly warns us that "in the expression of +these songs either by voices or instruments, if there be any jar or +dissonance," we are not to blame the printer, who has been at the +greatest pains to secure accuracy. Then the composer makes a modest +appeal on behalf of himself, requesting those who find any fault in the +composition "either with courtesy to let the same be concealed," or "in +friendly sort" point out the errors, which shall be corrected in a +future impression. This is the proper manner of dealing between +gentlemen. His next publication was "Songs of Sundry Natures," 1589, +which was dedicated to Sir Henry Carey, who seems to have been as +staunch a patron of Byrd as his son, Sir George Carey, was of Dowland. +In 1611 appeared Byrd's last work, "Psalms, Songs, and Sonnets." The +composer must have taken to heart the precepts set down by Sir Edward +Dyer in "My mind to me a kingdom is," (printed in "Psalms, Sonnets, and +Songs") for his dedicatory epistle and his address to the reader show +him to have been a man who had laid up a large store of genial wisdom, +upon which he could draw freely in the closing days of an honourable +life. His earlier works had been well received, and in addressing "all +true lovers of music" he knew that he could rely upon their cordial +sympathy. "I am much encouraged," he writes, "to commend to you these my +last labours, for mine _ultimum vale_;" and then follows a piece of +friendly counsel: "Only this I desire, that you will be as careful to +hear them well expressed, as I have been both in the composing and +correcting of them. Otherwise the best song that ever was made will seem +harsh and unpleasant; for that the well expressing of them either by +voices or instruments is the life of our labours, which is seldom or +never well performed at the first singing or playing." + +No musician of the Elizabethan age was more famous than John Dowland, +whose "heavenly touch upon the lute" was commended in a well-known +sonnet (long attributed to Shakespeare) by Richard Barnfield. Dowland +was born at Westminster in 1562. At the age of twenty, or thereabouts, +he started on his travels; and, after rambling through "the chiefest +parts of France, a nation furnished with great variety of music," he +bent his course "towards the famous province of Germany," where he found +"both excellent masters and most honourable patrons of music." In the +course of his travels he visited Venice, Padua, Genoa, Ferrara, and +Florence, gaining applause everywhere by his musical skill. On his +return to England he took his degree at Oxford, as Bachelor of Music, in +1588. In 1597 he published "The First Book of Songs or Airs of four +parts, with Tableture for the Lute." Prefixed is a dedicatory epistle to +Sir George Carey (second Lord Hunsdon), in which the composer alludes +gracefully to the kindness he had received from Lady Elizabeth Carey, +the patroness of Spenser. A "Second Book of Songs or Airs" was published +in 1600, when the composer was at the Danish Court, serving as lutenist +to King Christian the Fourth. The work was dedicated to the famous +Countess of Bedford, whom Ben Jonson immortalized in a noble sonnet. +From a curious address to the reader by George Eastland, the publisher, +it would appear that in spite of Dowland's high reputation the sale of +his works was not very profitable. "If the consideration of mine own +estate," writes Eastland, "or the true worth of money, had prevailed +with me above the desire of pleasing you and showing my love to my +friends, these second labours of Master Dowland--whose very name is a +large preface of commendation to the book--had for ever lain hid in +darkness, or at the least frozen in a cold and foreign country." The +expenses of publication were heavy, but he consoled himself with the +thought that his high-spirited enterprise would be appreciated by a +select audience. In 1603 appeared "The Third and Last Book of Songs or +Airs;" and, in 1612, when he was acting as lutenist to Lord Walden, +Dowland issued his last work, "A Pilgrime's Solace." He is supposed to +have died about 1615, leaving a son, Robert Dowland, who gained some +fame as a composer. Modern critics have judged that Dowland's music was +somewhat overrated by his contemporaries, and that he is wanting in +variety and originality. Whether these critics are right or wrong, it +would be difficult to overrate the poetry. In attempting to select +representative lyrics one is embarrassed by the wealth of material. The +rich clusters of golden verse hang so temptingly that it is difficult to +cease plucking when once we have begun. + +In his charming collection of "Rare Poems" Mr. Linton quotes freely from +the song-books of Byrd and Dowland, but gives only one lyric of Dr. +Thomas Campion. As Mr. Linton is an excellent judge of poetry, I can +only suppose that he had no wide acquaintance with Campion's writings, +when he put together his dainty Anthology. There is clear evidence[1] +that Campion wrote not only the music but the words for his songs--that +he was at once an eminent composer and a lyric poet of the first rank. +He published a volume of Latin verse, which displays ease and fluency +(though the prosody is occasionally erratic); as a masque-writer he was +inferior only to Ben Jonson; he was the author of treatises on the arts +of music and poetry; and he practised as a physician. It would be +interesting to ascertain some facts about the life of this +highly-gifted man; but hitherto little information has been collected. +The Oxford historian, good old Anthony-à-Wood, went altogether wrong and +confused our Thomas Campion with another person of the same name who +took his degree in 1624--five years after the poet's death. It is +probable that our Thomas Campion was the second son of Thomas Campion of +Witham, Essex, and that he was distantly related to Edmund Campion the +famous Jesuit. His first work was his "Epigrammatum Libri duo," +published in 1595, and republished in 1619. The first edition is +exceedingly rare; there is no copy in the British Museum. Francis Meres, +in his very valuable (and very tedious) "Wit's Treasury," 1598, mentions +Campion among the "English men, being Latin poets," who had "attained +good report and honorable advancement in the Latin empire." In 1601 +Campion and Philip Rosseter published jointly "A Book of Airs." The +music was partly written by Campion and partly by Rosseter; but the +whole of the poetry may be safely assigned to Campion. From a dedicatory +epistle, by Rosseter, to Sir Thomas Monson, we learn that Campion's +songs, "made at his vacant hours and privately imparted to his friends," +had been passed from hand to hand and had suffered from the carelessness +of successive transcribers. Some impudent persons, we are told, had +"unrespectively challenged" (_i.e._ claimed) the credit both of the +music and the poetry. The address _To the Reader_, which follows the +dedicatory epistle, is unsigned, but appears to have been written by +Campion. "What epigrams are in poetry," it begins, "the same are airs in +music: then in their chief perfection when they are short and well +seasoned. But to clog a light song with a long preludium is to corrupt +the nature of it. Many rests in music were invented either for necessity +of the fugue, or granted as an harmonical licence in songs of many +parts; but in airs I find no use they have, unless it be to make a +vulgar and trivial modulation seem to the ignorant strange, and to the +judicial tedious." It is among the curiosities of literature that this +true poet, who had so exquisite a sense of form, and whose lyrics are +frequently triumphs of metrical skill, should have published a work +(entitled "Observations in the Art of English Poesy") to prove that the +use of rhyme ought to be discontinued, and that English metres should be +fashioned after classical models. "Poesy," he writes, "in all kind of +speaking is the chief beginner and maintainer of eloquence, not only +helping the ear with the acquaintance of sweet numbers, but also raising +the mind to a more high and lofty conceit. For this end have I studied +to induce a true form of versifying into our language; for the vulgar +and artificial custom of rhyming hath, I know, deterr'd many excellent +wits from the exercise of English poesy." The work was published in +1602, the year after he had issued the first collection of his charming +lyrics. It was in answer to Campion that Samuel Daniel wrote his +"Defence of Rhyme" (1603), one of the ablest critical treatises in the +English language. Daniel was puzzled, as well he might be, that an +attack on rhyme should have been made by one "whose commendable rhymes, +albeit now himself an enemy to rhyme, have given heretofore to the world +the best notice of his worth." It is pleasant to find Daniel testifying +to the fact that Campion was "a man of fair parts and good reputation." +Ben Jonson, as we are informed by Drummond of Hawthornden, wrote "a +Discourse of Poesy both against Campion and Daniel;" but the discourse +was never published. In his "Observations" Campion gives us a few +specimen-poems written in the unrhymed metres that he proposed to +introduce. The following verses are the least objectionable that I can +find:-- + + "Just beguiler, + Kindest love yet only chastest, + Royal in thy smooth denials, + Frowning or demurely smiling, + Still my pure delight. + + Let me view thee + With thoughts and with eyes affected, + And if then the flames do murmur, + Quench them with thy virtue, charm them + With thy stormy brows. + + Heaven so cheerful + Laughs not ever; hoary winter + Knows his season, even the freshest + Summer morns from angry thunder + Yet not still secure." + +There is artful ease and the touch of a poet's hand in those verses; but +the Muses shield us from such innovations! Campion's second collection, +"Two Books of Airs," is undated; but, from an allusion to the death of +Prince Henry, we may conclude that it was published about the year 1613. +The first book consists of "Divine and Moral Songs" and the second of +"light conceits of lovers." In dealing with sacred themes, particularly +when they venture on paraphrases of the Psalms, our poets seldom do +themselves justice; but I claim for Campion that he is neither stiff nor +awkward. Henry Vaughan is the one English poet whose devotional fervour +found the highest lyrical expression; and Campion's impassioned poem +"Awake, awake, thou heavy sprite!" (p. 6) is not unworthy of the great +Silurist. Among the sacred verses are some lines ("Jack and Joan they +think no ill," p. 61) in praise of a contented countryman and his good +wife. A sweeter example of an old pastoral lyric could nowhere be found, +not even in the pages of Nicholas Breton. The "Third and Fourth Books of +Airs" are also undated, but they were probably published in 1613. In +this collection, where all is good, my favourite is "Now winter nights +enlarge" (p. 90). Others may prefer the melodious serenade, worthy even +of Shelley, "Shall I come, sweet love, to thee" (p. 100). But there is +one poem of Campion (printed in the collection of 1601) which, for +strange richness of romantic beauty, could hardly be matched outside the +sonnets of Shakespeare:-- + + "When thou must home to shades of underground, + And there arrived, a new admirèd guest, + The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round, + White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest, + To hear the stories of thy finish'd love + From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move: + + Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights, + Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make, + Of tourneys and great challenges of knights, + And all these triumphs for thy beauty sake: + When thou hast told these honours done to thee, + Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me!" + +The mention of "White Iope" was suggested by a passage of Propertius:-- + + "Sunt apud infernos tot millia formosarum; + Pulchra sit, in superis, si licet, una locis. + Vobiscum[2] est _Iope_, vobiscum candida Tyro," &c. + +Campion was steeped in classical feeling: his rendering of Catullus' +"Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus" (p. 80) is, so far as it goes, +delightful. It is time that Campion should again take his rightful place +among the lyric poets of England. In his own day his fame stood high. +Camden did not hesitate to couple his name with the names of Spenser and +Sidney; but modern critics have persistently neglected him. The present +anthology contains a large number of his best poems; and I venture to +hope that my attempt to recall attention to the claims of this true poet +will not be fruitless. + +There is much excellent verse hidden away in the Song-books of Robert +Jones, a famous performer on the lute. Between 1601 and 1611 Jones +issued six musical works. Two of these--"The First Set of Madrigals," +1607, and "The Muses' Garden for Delight," 1611,--I have unfortunately +not been able to see, as I have not yet succeeded in discovering their +present resting-place. Of "Ultimum Vale, or the Third Book of Airs" +[1608], only one copy is known. It formerly belonged to Rimbault, and is +now preserved in the library of the Royal College of Music. The other +publications of Jones are of the highest rarity. By turns the songs are +grave and gay. On one page is the warning to Love-- + + "Little boy, pretty knave, hence, I beseech you! + For if you hit me, knave, in faith I'll breech you." (p. 72.) + +On another we read "Love winged my hopes and taught me how to fly," (p. +73); but the vain hopes, seeking to woo the sun's fair light, were +scorched with fire and drown'd in woe, + + "And none but Love their woeful hap did rue, + For Love did know that their desires were true; + Though Fate frownèd. + And now drownèd + They in sorrow dwell, + It was the purest light of heaven for whose fair love they fell." + +The last line is superb. + +I have drawn freely from the madrigals of Weelkes, Morley, Farmer, +Wilbye and others. Thomas Ford's "Music of Sundry Kinds," 1607, has +yielded some very choice verse; and Francis Pilkington's collections +have not been consulted in vain. From John Attye's "First Book of Airs," +1622, I have selected one song, (p. 94), only one,--warm and tender and +delicious. Some pleasant verses have been drawn from the rare song-books +of William Corkine; and Thomas Vautor's "Songs of Divers Airs and +Natures," 1619, have supplied some quaint snatches, notably the address +to the owl, (p. 116) "Sweet Suffolk owl, so trimly dight." I have +purposely refrained from giving many humorous ditties. Had I been +otherwise minded there was plenty of material to my hand in the +rollicking rounds and catches of Ravenscroft's admirable collections. + +As I have no technical knowledge of the subject, it would be impertinent +for me to attempt to estimate the merits of the music contained in these +old song-books; but I venture with all confidence to commend the poetry +to the reader's attention. There is one poem which I have deliberately +kept back. It occurs in "The First Part of Airs, French, Polish, and +others together, some in tableture and some in prick-song," 1605. The +composer was a certain Captain Tobias Hume, but who the author of the +poem was I know not. Here is the first stanza:-- + + "Fain would I change that note + To which fond love hath charm'd me, + Long long to sing by rote, + Fancying that that harm'd me: + Yet when this thought doth come, + 'Love is the perfect sum + Of all delight,' + I have no other choice + Either for pen or voice + To sing or write." + +The other stanza shall occupy the place of honour in the front of my +Anthology; for among all the Elizabethan song-books I have found no +lines of more faultless beauty, of happier cadence or sweeter +simplicity, no lines that more justly deserve to be treasured in the +memory while memory lasts. + +[1] In his address _To The Reader_ prefixed to the "Fourth Book of Airs" +he writes:--"Some words are in these books which have been clothed in +music by others, and I am content they then served their turn: _yet give +me leave to make use of mine own_." Again, in the address _To the +Reader_ prefixed to the "Third Book of Airs:"--"In these English airs I +have chiefly aimed to _couple my words and notes lovingly together; +which will be much for him to do that hath not power over both_." + +[2] Some editions read "Vobiscum Antiope." + + + + + _IN LAVDEM AMORIS._ + + O LOVE, THEY WRONG THEE MVCH + THAT SAY THY SWEET IS BITTER, + WHEN THY RICH FRVIT IS SVCH + AS NOTHING CAN BE SWEETER. + FAIR HOVSE OF JOY AND BLISS, + WHERE TRVEST PLEASVRE IS, + I DO ADORE THEE; + I KNOW THEE WHAT THOV ART, + I SERVE THEE WITH MY HEART, + AND FALL BEFORE THEE. + +CAPTAIN HUME's _First Part of Airs_, 1605. + + + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES + + +A little pretty bonny lass was walking (Farmer) +A shepherd in a shade his plaining made (John Dowland) +A sparrow-hawk proud did hold in wicked jail (Weelkes) +A woman's looks (Jones) +About the maypole new, with glee and merriment (Morley) +Adieu! sweet Amaryllis (Wilbye) +April is in my mistress' face (Morley) +Arise, my thoughts, and mount you with the sun (Jones) +Awake, awake! thou heavy sprite (Campion) +Awake, sweet Love! 'tis time to rise (Youll) +Ay me, can every rumour (Wilbye) +Ay me, my mistress scorns my love (Bateson) + +Behold a wonder here (John Dowland) +Brown is my Love, but graceful (Musica Transalpina) +By a fountain where I lay (John Dowland) +By the moon we sport and play (Ravenscroft) + +Canst thou love and lie alone (Melismata) +Change thy mind since she doth change (Robert Dowland) +Cold Winter's ice is fled and gone (Weelkes) +Come away! come, sweet Love! (John Dowland) +Come, O come, my life's delight (Campion) +Come, Phyllis, come into these bowers (Ford) +Come, shepherd swains, that wont to hear me sing (Wilbye) +Come, you pretty false-eyed wanton (Campion) +Could my heart more tongues employ (Campion) +Crownèd with flowers I saw fair Amaryllis (Byrd) + +Dare you haunt our hallow'd green (Ravenscroft) +Dear, if I with guilt would gild a true intent (Campion) +Dear, if you change I'll never choose again (John Dowland) +Do you not know how Love lost first his seeing (Morley) +Draw on, sweet Night, best friend unto those cares (Wilbye) + +Each day of thine, sweet month of May (Youll) +Every dame affects good fame, whate'er her doings be (Campion) + +Fair Phyllis I saw sitting all alone (Farmer) +Farewell, false Love, the oracle of lies (Byrd) +Farewell, my joy! (Weelkes) +Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave and new (John Dowland) +Fire that must flame is with apt fuel fed (Campion) +Flora gave me fairest flowers (Wilbye) +Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet (Campion and Rosseter) +Fond wanton youths make Love a God (Jones) +From Citheron the warlike boy is fled (Byrd) +From Fame's desire, from Love's delight retired (John Dowland) + +Give Beauty all her right (Campion) +Go, crystal tears! like to the morning showers (John Dowland) +Go, turn away those cruel eyes (Egerton MS. 2013) +Good men, show! if you can tell (Campion) + +Ha! ha! ha! this world doth pass (Weelkes) +Happy he (Jones) +Happy, O! happy he, who not affecting (Wilbye) +Have I found her? O rich finding (Pilkington) +Heigh ho! chill go to plough no more (Mundy) +How many things as yet (Maynard) +How shall I then describe my Love (Ford) + +I always loved to call my lady Rose (Lichfild) +I have house and land in Kent (Melismata) +I joy not in no earthly bliss (Byrd) +I live and yet methinks I do not breathe (Wilbye) +I marriage would forswear (Maynard) +I only am the man (Maynard) +I saw my Lady weep (John Dowland) +I sung sometime my thoughts and fancy's pleasure (Wilbye) +I weigh not Fortune's frown nor smile (Gibbons) +I will no more come to thee (Morley) +If fathers knew but how to leave (Jones) +If I urge my kind desires (Campion and Rosseter) +If my complaints could passions move (John Dowland) +If thou long'st so much to learn, sweet boy, what 'tis to love (Campion) +If women could be fair and never fond (Byrd) +In crystal towers and turrets richly set (Byrd) +In darkness let me dwell, the ground shall sorrow be (Coprario) +In midst of woods or pleasant grove (Mundy) +In pride of May (Weelkes) +In Sherwood lived stout Robin Hood (Jones) +In the merry month of May (Este) +Inconstant Laura makes me death to crave (Greaves) +Injurious hours, whilst any joy doth bless me (Lichfild) +Is Love a boy,--what means he then to strike (Byrd) +It was the frog in the well (Melismata) + +Jack and Joan they think no ill (Campion) + +Kind are her answers (Campion) +Kind in unkindness, when will you relent (Campion and Rosseter) + +Lady, the birds right fairly (Weelkes) +Lady, the melting crystal of your eye (Greaves) +Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting (Wilbye) +Let not Chloris think, because (Danyel) +Let not the sluggish sleep (Byrd) +Let us in a lovers' round (Mason and Earsden) +Like two proud armies marching in the field (Weelkes) +Lo! country sport that seldom fades (Weelkes) +Lo! when back mine eye (Campion) +Long have I lived in Court (Maynard) +Love is a bable (Jones) +Love not me for comely grace (Wilbye) +Love's god is a boy (Jones) +Love winged my hopes and taught me how to fly (Jones) + +"Maids are simple," some men say (Campion) +Maids to bed and cover coal (Melismata) +More than most fair, full of all heavenly fire (Peerson) +Mother, I will have a husband (Vautor) +My hope a counsel with my heart (Este) +My love bound me with a kiss (Jones) +My love is neither young nor old (Jones) +My mind to me a kingdom is (Byrd) +My prime of youth is but a frost of cares (Mundy) +My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love (Campion) +My Thoughts are winged with Hopes, my Hopes with Love (John Dowland) + +Never love unless you can (Campion) +Now each creature joys the other (Farmer) +Now every tree renews his summer's green (Weelkes) +Now God be with old Simeon (Pammelia) +Now have I learn'd with much ado at last (Jones) +Now I see thy looks were feignèd (Ford) +Now is my Chloris fresh as May (Weelkes) +Now is the month of maying (Morley) +Now let her change! and spare not (Campion) +Now let us make a merry greeting (Weelkes) +Now what is love, I pray thee tell (Jones) +Now winter nights enlarge (Campion) + +O say, dear life, when shall these twin-born berries (Ward) +O stay, sweet love; see here the place of sporting (Farmer) +O sweet, alas, what say you (Morley) +O sweet delight, O more than human bliss (Campion) +Oft have I mused the cause to find (Jones) +On a time the amorous Silvy (Attye) +Once did I love and yet I live (Jones) +Once I thought to die for love (Youll) +Our country swains in the morris dance (Weelkes) + +Pierce did love fair Petronel (Farnaby) +Pour forth, mine eyes, the fountains of your tears (Pilkington) + +Robin is a lovely lad (Mason and Earsden) +Round-a, round-a, keep your ring (Ravenscroft) + +See, see, mine own sweet jewel (Morley) +Shall a frown or angry eye (Corkine) +Shall I abide this jesting (Alison) +Shall I come, sweet Love, to thee (Campion) +Shall I look to ease my grief (Jones) +She whose matchless beauty staineth (Jones) +Shoot, false Love! I care not (Morley) +Silly boy! 'tis full moon yet, thy night as day shines clearly (Campion) +Simkin said that Sis was fair (Farnaby) +Since first I saw your face I resolved to honour and renown ye (Ford) +Sing we and chant it (Morley) +Sister, awake! close not your eyes (Bateson) +Sleep, angry beauty, sleep and fear not me (Campion) +So light is love, in matchless beauty shining (Wilbye) +Some can flatter, some can feign (Corkine) +Sweet, come again (Campion and Rosseter) +Sweet Cupid, ripen her desire (Corkine) +Sweet heart, arise! why do you sleep (Weelkes) +Sweet Kate (Jones) +Sweet Love, if thou wilt gain a monarch's glory (Wilbye) +Sweet Love, I will no more abuse thee (Weelkes) +Sweet Love, my only treasure (Jones) +Sweet, stay awhile; why will you rise (John Dowland) +Sweet Suffolk owl so trimly dight (Vautor) + +Take here my heart, I give it thee for ever (Weelkes) +Take time while time doth last (Farmer) +The fly she sat in shamble-row (Deuteromelia) +The Gods have heard my vows (Weelkes) +The lark, linnet and nightingale to sing some say are best (Pammelia) +The love of change hath changed the world throughout (Carlton) +The lowest trees have tops, the ant her gall (John Dowland) +The man of life upright (Campion and Rosseter) +The greedy hawk with sudden sight of lure (Byrd) +The match that's made for just and true respects (Byrd) +The Nightingale so pleasant and so gay (Byrd) +The Nightingale so soon as April bringeth (Bateson) +The peaceful western wind (Campion) +There is a garden in her face (Campion) +There is a lady sweet and kind (Ford) +There were three Ravens sat on a tree (Melismata) +Think'st thou, Kate, to put me down (Jones) +Think'st thou to seduce me then with words that have no meaning (Campion) +Thou art but young, thou say'st (Wilbye) +Thou art not fair, for all thy red and white (Campion and Rosseter) +Thou pretty bird, how do I see (Danyel) +Though Amaryllis dance in green (Byrd) +Though my carriage be but careless (Weelkes) +Though your strangeness frets my heart (Jones) +Thrice blessèd be the giver (Farnaby) +Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air (Campion) +Thus I resolve and Time hath taught me so (Campion) +Thus saith my Chloris bright (Wilbye) +Thus saith my Galatea (Morley) +To his sweet lute Apollo sang the motions of the spheres (Campion) +To plead my faith, where faith hath no reward (Robert Dowland) +To shorten winter's sadness (Weelkes) +Toss not my soul, O Love, 'twixt hope and fear (John Dowland) +Turn all thy thoughts to eyes (Campion) + +Unto the temple of thy beauty (Ford) +Upon a hill the bonny boy (Weelkes) +Upon a summer's day Love went to swim (Byrd) + +Vain men! whose follies make a god of love (Campion) + +Wake, sleepy Thyrsis, wake (Pilkington) +We be soldiers three (Deuteromelia) +We be three poor mariners (Deuteromelia) +We must not part as others do (Egerton MS. 2013) +We shepherds sing, we pipe, we play (Weelkes) +Wedded to will is witless (Byrd) +Weep no more, thou sorry boy (Tomkins) +Weep you no more, sad fountains (John Dowland) +Welcome, sweet pleasure (Weelkes) +Were I a king I might command content (Mundy) +Were my heart as some men's are, thy errors would not move me (Campion) +What hap had I to marry a shrow (Pammelia) +What is our life? a play of passion (Gibbons) +What needeth all this travail and turmoiling (Wilbye) +What pleasure have great Princes (Byrd) +What poor astronomers are they (John Dowland) +What then is love, sings Corydon (Ford) +When Flora fair the pleasant tidings bringeth (Carlton) +When I was otherwise than now I am (Byrd) +When thou must home to shades of underground (Campion and Rosseter) +When younglings first on Cupid fix their sight (Byrd) +Where most my thoughts, there least mine eye is striking (Wilbye) +Where shall a sorrow great enough be sought (Peerson) +Whether men do laugh or weep (Campion and Rosseter) +While that the sun with his beams hot (Byrd) +Whilst youthful sports are lasting (Weelkes) +White as lilies was her face (John Dowland) +Whither so fast? see how the kindly flowers (Pilkington) +Who likes to love, let him take heed (Byrd) +Who made thee, Hob, forsake the plough (Byrd) +Who prostrate lies at women's feet (Bateson) +Who would have thought that face of thine (Farmer) +Why are you Ladies staying (Weelkes) +Wilt thou, Unkind! thus 'reave me (John Dowland) +Wise men patience never want (Campion) +Woeful heart with grief oppressèd (John Dowland) + +Ye bubbling springs that gentle music makes (Greaves) +You blessèd bowers whose green leaves now are spreading (Farmer) +You that wont to my pipe's sound (Morley) +Your shining eyes and golden hair (Bateson) + + + + + LYRICS FROM ELIZABETHAN + SONG-BOOKS. + + + _Let well-tuned words amaze + With harmony divine._ + CAMPION. + + + + +LYRICS FROM ELIZABETHAN SONG-BOOKS. + + +From FARMER's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1599. + + A little pretty bonny lass was walking + In midst of May before the sun gan rise; + I took her by the hand and fell to talking + Of this and that as best I could devise: + I swore I would--yet still she said I should not; + Do what I would, and yet for all I could not. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _Second Book of Songs or Airs_, 1600. + + A shepherd in a shade his plaining made + Of love and lover's wrong + Unto the fairest lass that trod on grass, + And thus began his song: + "Since Love and Fortune will, I honour still + Your fair and lovely eye: + What conquest will it be, sweet Nymph, for thee + If I for sorrow die? + Restore, restore my heart again + Which love by thy sweet looks hath slain, + Lest that, enforced by your disdain, + I sing 'Fie on love! it is a foolish thing.' + + "My heart where have you laid? O cruel maid, + To kill when you might save! + Why have ye cast it forth as nothing worth, + Without a tomb or grave? + O let it be entombed and lie + In your sweet mind and memory, + Lest I resound on every warbling string + 'Fie, fie on love! that is a foolish thing.' + Restore, restore my heart again + Which love by thy sweet looks hath slain, + Lest that, enforced by your disdain, + I sing 'Fie on love! it is a foolish thing.'" + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals of Six Parts_, 1600. + + A Sparrow-Hawk proud did hold in wicked jail + Music's sweet chorister, the nightingale, + To whom with sighs she said: "O set me free! + And in my song I'll praise no bird but thee." + The hawk replied, "I will not lose my diet + To let a thousand such enjoy their quiet." + + +From ROBERT JONES' _First Book of Airs_, 1601. + + A woman's looks + Are barbèd hooks, + That catch by art + The strongest heart + When yet they spend no breath; + But let them speak, + And sighing break + Forth into tears, + Their words are spears + That wound our souls to death. + + The rarest wit + Is made forget, + And like a child + Is oft beguiled + With love's sweet-seeming bait; + Love with his rod + So like a God + Commands the mind; + We cannot find, + Fair shows hide foul deceit. + + Time, that all things + In order brings, + Hath taught me how + To be more slow + In giving faith to speech, + Since women's words + No truth affords, + And when they kiss + They think by this + Us men to over-reach. + + +From THOMAS MORLEY's _First Book of Ballets to Five Voices_, 1595. + + About the maypole new, with glee and merriment, + While as the bagpipe tooted it, + Thyrsis and Chloris fine together footed it: + And to the joyous instrument + Still they went to and fro, and finely flaunted it, + And then both met again and thus they chaunted it. + Fa la! + + The shepherds and the nymphs them round enclosèd had, + Wond'ring with what facility, + About they turn'd them in such strange agility; + And still when they unloosèd had, + With words full of delight they gently kissed them, + And thus sweetly to sing they never missed them. + Fa la! + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1598. + + Adieu, sweet Amaryllis! + For since to part your will is, + O heavy, heavy tiding! + Here is for me no biding. + Yet once again, ere that I part with you, + Adieu, sweet Amaryllis; sweet, adieu! + + +From THOMAS MORLEY's _First Book of Madrigals_, 1594. + + April is in my mistress' face, + And July in her eyes hath place; + Within her bosom is September, + But in her heart a cold December. + + +From ROBERT JONES' _Second Book of Songs and Airs_, 1601. + + Arise, my thoughts, and mount you with the sun, + Call all the winds to make you speedy wings, + And to my fairest Maya see you run + And weep your last while wantonly she sings; + Then if you cannot move her heart to pity, + Let _Oh, alas, ay me_ be all your ditty. + + Arise, my thoughts, no more, if you return + Denied of grace which only you desire, + But let the sun your wings to ashes burn + And melt your passions in his quenchless fire; + Yet, if you move fair Maya's heart to pity, + Let smiles and love and kisses be your ditty. + + Arise, my thoughts, beyond the highest star + And gently rest you in fair Maya's eye, + For that is fairer than the brightest are; + But, if she frown to see you climb so high, + Couch in her lap, and with a moving ditty, + Of smiles and love and kisses, beg for pity. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Two Books of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Awake, awake! thou heavy sprite + That sleep'st the deadly sleep of sin! + Rise now and walk the ways of light, + 'Tis not too late yet to begin. + Seek heaven early, seek it late; + True Faith finds still an open gate. + + Get up, get up, thou leaden man! + Thy track, to endless joy or pain, + Yields but the model of a span: + Yet burns out thy life's lamp in vain! + One minute bounds thy bane or bliss; + Then watch and labour while time is. + + +From HENRY YOULL's _Canzonets to three voices_, 1608. + + Awake, sweet Love! 'tis time to rise: + Ph[oe]bus is risen in the east, + Spreading his beams on those fair eyes + Which are enclosed with Nature's rest. + Awake, awake from heavy sleep + Which all thy thoughts in silence keep! + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1598. + + Ay me, can every rumour + Thus start my lady's humour? + Name ye some galante to her, + Why straight forsooth I woo her. + Then burst[s] she forth in passion + "You men love but for fashion;" + Yet sure I am that no man + Ever so lovèd woman. + Then alas, Love, be wary, + For women be contrary. + + +From THOMAS BATESON's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1604. + + Ay me, my mistress scorns my love; + I fear she will most cruel prove. + I weep, I sigh, I grieve, I groan; + Yet she regardeth not my moan. + Then, Love, adieu! it fits not me + To weep for her that laughs at thee. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs_, 1603. + + Behold a wonder here! + Love hath receiv'd his sight! + Which many hundred year + Hath not beheld the light. + + Such beams infusèd be + By Cynthia in his eyes, + As first have made him see + And then have made him wise. + + Love now no more will weep + For them that laugh the while! + Nor wake for them that sleep, + Nor sigh for them that smile! + + So powerful is the Beauty + That Love doth now behold, + As Love is turned to Duty + That's neither blind nor bold. + + Thus Beauty shows her might + To be of double kind; + In giving Love his sight + And striking Folly blind. + + +From the Second Book of _Musica Transalpina_, 1597. + + Brown is my Love, but graceful: + And each renownèd whiteness + Match'd with thy lovely brown loseth its brightness. + + Fair is my Love, but scornful: + Yet have I seen despisèd + Dainty white lilies, and sad flowers well prizèd. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs_, 1603. + + By a fountain where I lay, + (All blessèd be that blessèd day!) + By the glimm'ring of the sun, + (O never be her shining done!) + When I might see alone + My true Love, fairest one! + Love's dear light! + Love's clear sight! + No world's eyes can clearer see! + A fairer sight, none can be! + + Fair with garlands all addrest, + (Was never Nymph more fairly blest!) + Blessèd in the highest degree, + (So may she ever blessèd be!) + Came to this fountain near, + With such a smiling cheer! + Such a face, + Such a grace! + Happy, happy eyes, that see + Such a heavenly sight as She! + + Then I forthwith took my pipe, + Which I all fair and clean did wipe, + And upon a heavenly ground, + All in the grace of beauty found, + Play'd this roundelay: + "Welcome, fair Queen of May! + Sing, sweet air! + Welcome, Fair! + Welcome be the Shepherds' Queen, + The glory of all our green!" + + +From THOMAS RAVENSCROFT's _Brief Discourse, &c._, 1614. + + THE URCHINS' DANCE. + + By the moon we sport and play, + With the night begins our day: + As we frisk the dew doth fall; + Trip it, little urchins all! + Lightly as the little bee, + Two by two, and three by three; + And about, about go we. + + + THE ELVES' DANCE. + + Round about in a fair ring-a, + Thus we dance and thus we sing-a; + Trip and go, to and fro, + Over this green-a; + All about, in and out, + Over this green-a. + + +From _Melismata_, 1611. + + THE COURTIER'S GOOD MORROW TO HIS MISTRESS. + + Canst thou love and lie alone? + Love is so disgracèd, + Pleasure is best + Wherein is rest + In a heart embracèd. + Rise, rise, rise! + Daylight do not burn out; + Bells do ring and birds do sing, + Only I that mourn out. + + Morning-star doth now appear, + Wind is hushed and sky is clear; + Come, come away, come, come away! + Canst thou love and burn out day? + Rise, rise, rise! + Daylight do not burn out; + Bells do ring [and] birds do sing, + Only I that mourn out. + + +From ROBERT DOWLAND's _Musical Banquet_, 1610. (Lines by the Earl of +Essex.) + + Change thy mind since she doth change, + Let not fancy still abuse thee, + Thy untruth cannot seem strange + When her falsehood doth excuse thee: + Love is dead and thou art free, + She doth live but dead to thee. + + Whilst she loved thee best a while, + See how she hath still delayed thee: + Using shows for to beguile, + Those vain hopes that have deceived thee: + Now thou seest, although too late, + Love loves truth which women hate. + + Love no more since she is gone, + She is gone and loves another: + Being once deceived by one, + Leave her love but love none other. + She was false, bid her adieu, + She was best but yet untrue. + + Love, farewell, more dear to me + Than my life, which thou preservest. + Life, all joys are gone from thee; + Others have what thou deservest. + Oh my death doth spring from hence, + I must die for her offence. + + Die, but yet before thou die, + Make her know what she hath gotten, + She in whom my hopes did lie + Now is changed, I quite forgotten. + She is changed, but changèd base, + Baser in so vild a place. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals of Five and Six Parts_, 1600. + + Cold Winter's ice is fled and gone, + And Summer brags on every tree, + The red-breast peeps amidst the throng + Of wood-born birds that wanton be: + Each one forgets what they have been, + And so doth Phyllis, Summer's queen. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _First Book of Songs or Airs_, 1597. + + Come away! come, sweet Love! + The golden morning breaks; + All the earth, all the air, + Of love and pleasure speaks! + Teach thine arms then to embrace, + And sweet rosy lips to kiss, + And mix our souls in mutual bliss. + Eyes were made for beauty's grace + Viewing, ruing, love's long pain; + Procured by beauty's rude disdain. + + Come away![3] come, sweet Love! + The golden morning wastes + While the sun from his sphere + His fiery arrows casts: + Making all the shadows fly, + Playing, staying in the grove + To entertain the stealth of love. + Thither, sweet Love, let us hie, + Flying, dying in desire, + Wing'd with sweet hopes and heavenly fire. + + Come away! come, sweet Love! + Do not in vain adorn + Beauty's grace, that should rise + Like to our naked morn! + Lilies on the river's side, + And fair Cyprian flowers new-blown, + Desire no beauties but their own: + Ornament is nurse of pride. + Pleasure measure[s] love's delight: + Haste then, sweet love, our wishèd flight! + +[3] This stanza is not in the original, but is added in _England's +Helicon_. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Come, O come, my life's delight! + Let me not in languor pine! + Love loves no delay; thy sight + The more enjoyed, the more divine! + O come, and take from me + The pain of being deprived of thee! + + Thou all sweetness dost enclose, + Like a little world of bliss; + Beauty guards thy looks, the rose + In them pure and eternal is: + Come, then, and make thy flight + As swift to me as heavenly light! + + +From THOMAS FORD's _Music of Sundry Kinds_, 1607. + + Come, Phyllis, come into these bowers: + Here shelter is from sharpest showers, + Cool gales of wind breathe in these shades, + Danger none this place invades; + Here sit and note the chirping birds + Pleading my love in silent words. + + Come, Phyllis, come, bright heaven's eye + Cannot upon thy beauty pry; + Glad Echo in distinguished voice + Naming thee will here rejoice; + Then come and hear her merry lays + Crowning thy name with lasting praise. + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _Second Set of Madrigals_, 1609. + + Come, shepherd swains, that wont to hear me sing, + Now sigh and groan! + Dead is my Love, my Hope, my Joy, my Spring; + Dead, dead, and gone! + O, She that was your Summer's Queen, + Your days' delight, + Is gone and will no more be seen; + O, cruel spite! + Break all your pipes that wont to sound + With pleasant cheer, + And cast yourselves upon the ground + To wail my Dear! + Come, shepherd swains, come, nymphs, and all a-row + To help me cry: + Dead is my Love, and, seeing She is so, + Lo, now I die! + + +From _Two Books of Airs_, by THOMAS CAMPION (circ. 1613). + + Come, you pretty false-eyed wanton, + Leave your crafty smiling! + Think you to escape me now + With slipp'ry words beguiling? + No; you mocked me th' other day; + When you got loose, you fled away; + But, since I have caught you now, + I'll clip your wings for flying: + Smoth'ring kisses fast I'll heap + And keep you so from crying. + + Sooner may you count the stars + And number hail down-pouring, + Tell the osiers of the Thames, + Or Goodwin sands devouring, + Than the thick-showered kisses here + Which now thy tired lips must bear. + Such a harvest never was + So rich and full of pleasure, + But 'tis spent as soon as reaped, + So trustless is lore's treasure. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Could my heart more tongues employ + Than it harbours thoughts of grief, + It is now so far from joy + That it scarce could ask relief: + Truest hearts by deeds unkind + To despair are most inclined. + + Happy minds that can redeem + Their engagements how they please, + That no joys or hopes esteem + Half so precious as their ease: + Wisdom should prepare men so, + As if they did all foreknow. + + Yet no art or caution can + Grown affections easily change; + Use is such a lord of man + That he brooks worst what is strange: + Better never to be blest + Than to lose all at the best. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Songs, and Sonnets_, 1611. + + Crownèd with flowers I saw fair Amaryllis + By Thyrsis sit, hard by a fount of crystal, + And with her hand more white than snow or lilies, + On sand she wrote _My faith shall be immortal_: + And suddenly a storm of wind and weather + Blew all her faith and sand away together. + + +From THOMAS RAVENSCROFT's _Brief Discourse_, 1614. + + THE FAIRIES' DANCE. + + Dare you haunt our hallow'd green? + None but fairies here are seen. + Down and sleep, + Wake and weep, + Pinch him black, and pinch him blue, + That seeks to steal a lover true! + When you come to hear us sing, + Or to tread our fairy ring, + Pinch him black, and pinch him blue! + O thus our nails shall handle you! + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Fourth Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Dear, if I with guile would gild a true intent, + Heaping flatt'ries that in heart were never meant, + Easily could I then obtain + What now in vain I force; + Falsehood much doth gain, + Truth yet holds the better course. + + Love forbid that through dissembling I should thrive, + Or, in praising you, myself of truth deprive! + Let not your high thoughts debase + A simple truth in me; + Great is Beauty's grace, + Truth is yet as fair as she. + + Praise is but the wind of pride if it exceeds, + Wealth prized in itself no outward value needs: + Fair you are, and passing fair; + You know it, and 'tis true; + Yet let none despair + But to find as fair as you. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _First Book of Songs or Airs_, 1597. + + Dear, if you change, I'll never choose again; + Sweet, if you shrink, I'll never think of love; + Fair, if you fail, I'll judge all beauty vain; + Wise, if too weak, more wits I'll never prove. + Dear, sweet, fair, wise! change, shrink, nor be not weak; + And, on my faith, my faith shall never break. + + Earth with her flowers shall sooner heaven adorn; + Heaven her bright stars through earth's dim globe shall move; + Fire heat shall lose, and frosts of flames be born; + Air, made to shine, as black as hell shall prove: + Earth, heaven, fire, air, the world transformed shall view, + Ere I prove false to faith or strange to you. + + +From THOMAS MORLEY's _Canzonets_, 1593. + + Do you not know how Love lost first his seeing? + Because with me once gazing + On those fair eyes where all powers have their being, + She with her beauty blazing, + Which death might have revivèd, + Him of his sight and me of heart deprivèd. + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _Second Set of Madrigals_, 1609. + + Draw on, sweet Night, best friend unto those cares + That do arise from painful melancholy; + My life so ill through want of comfort fares, + That unto thee I consecrate it wholly. + + Sweet Night, draw on; my griefs, when they be told + To shades and darkness, find some ease from paining; + And while thou all in silence dost enfold, + I then shall have best time for my complaining. + + +From HENRY YOULL's _Canzonets to three Voices_, 1608. + + Each day of thine, sweet month of May, + Love makes a solemn holyday: + I will perform like duty, + Since thou resemblest every way + Astræa, Queen of Beauty. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Fourth Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Every dame affects good fame, whate'er her doings be, + But true praise is Virtue's bays, which none may wear but she. + Borrowed guise fits not the wise, a simple look is best; + Native grace becomes a face though ne'er so rudely drest. + Now such new-found toys are sold these women to disguise, + That before the year grows old the newest fashion dies. + + Dames of yore contended more in goodness to exceed, + Than in pride to be envied for that which least they need. + Little lawn then serve[d] the Pawn, if Pawn at all there were; + Homespun thread and household bread then held out all the year. + But th' attires of women now wear out both house and land; + That the wives in silk may flow, at ebb the good men stand. + + Once again, Astræa! then from heaven to earth descend, + And vouchsafe in their behalf these errors to amend. + Aid from heaven must make all even, things are so out of frame; + For let man strive all he can, he needs must please his dame. + Happy man, content that gives and what he gives enjoys! + Happy dame, content that lives and breaks no sleep for toys! + + +From FARMER's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1599. + + Fair Phyllis I saw sitting all alone, + Feeding her flock near to the mountain-side; + The shepherds knew not whither she was gone, + But after her lover Amyntas hied. + Up and down he wandered, whilst she was missing; + When he found her, oh then they fell a-kissing! + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs_, 1588. + + Farewell, false Love, the oracle of lies, + A mortal foe and enemy to rest, + An envious boy from whom all cares arise, + A bastard vile, a beast with rage possest; + A way of error, a temple full of treason, + In all effects contrary unto reason. + + A poison'd serpent cover'd all with flowers, + Mother of sighs and murderer of repose; + A sea of sorrows from whence are drawn such showers + As moisture lend to every grief that grows; + A school of guile, a net of deep deceit, + A gilded hook that holds a poison'd bait. + + A fortress foiled which Reason did defend, + A Siren song, a fever of the mind, + A maze wherein affection finds no end, + A raging cloud that runs before the wind; + A substance like the shadow of the sun, + A goal of grief for which the wisest run. + + A quenchless fire, a nurse of trembling fear, + A path that leads to peril and mishap, + A true retreat of sorrow and despair, + An idle boy that sleeps in Pleasure's lap; + A deep distrust of that which certain seems, + A hope of that which Reason doubtful deems. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals_, 1598. + + Farewell, my joy! + Adieu, my love and pleasure! + To sport and toy + We have no longer leisure. + Fa la la! + + Farewell, adieu + Until our next consorting! + Sweet love, be true! + And thus we end our sporting. + Fa la la! + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _Second Book of Songs or Airs_, 1600. + + Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave and new, + Good pennyworths,--but money cannot move: + I keep a fair but for the Fair to view,-- + A beggar may be liberal of love. + Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true, + The heart is true. + + Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again, + My trifles come as treasures from my mind; + It is a precious jewel to be plain; + Sometimes in shell the orient'st pearls we find: + Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain! + Of me a grain! + + Within this pack pins, points, laces, and gloves, + And divers toys fitting a country fair, + But my heart, wherein duty serves and loves, + Turtles and twins, court's brood, a heavenly pair-- + Happy the heart that thinks of no removes! + Of no removes! + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Fire that must flame is with apt fuel fed, + Flowers that will thrive in sunny soil are bred: + How can a heart feel heat that no hope finds? + Or can he love on whom no comfort shines? + + Fair, I confess there's pleasure in your sight; + Sweet, you have power, I grant, of all delight; + But what is all to me if I have none? + Churl that you are t'enjoy such wealth alone! + + Prayers move the heavens but find no grace with you, + Yet in your looks a heavenly form I view; + Then will I pray again, hoping to find, + As well as in your looks, heaven in your mind. + + Saint of my heart, queen of my life and love, + O let my vows thy loving spirit move! + Let me no longer mourn through thy disdain, + But with one touch of grace cure all my pain! + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1598. + + Flora gave me fairest flowers, + None so fair in Flora's treasure; + These I placed on Phyllis' bowers, + She was pleased, and she my pleasure: + Smiling meadows seem to say, + "Come, ye wantons, here to play." + + +From CAMPION and ROSSETER's _Book of Airs_, 1601. + + Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet! + Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet! + There, wrapped in cloud of sorrow, pity move, + And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love: + But, if she scorns my never-ceasing pain, + Then burst with sighing in her sight and ne'er return again. + + All that I sang still to her praise did tend, + Still she was first, still she my songs did end; + Yet she my love and music both doth fly, + The music that her echo is and beauty's sympathy: + Then let my notes pursue her scornful flight! + It shall suffice that they were breathed and died for her delight. + + +From ROBERT JONES' _First Book of Airs_, 1601. + + {ouk esti gêmas hostis ou cheimazetai, + legousi pantes; kai gamousin eidotes.} + _Anthol. Græc._ + + Fond wanton youths make love a God + Which after proveth Age's rod; + Their youth, their time, their wit, their art + They spend in seeking of their smart; + And, which of follies is the chief, + They woo their woe, they wed their grief. + + All find it so who wedded are, + Love's sweets, they find, enfold sour care; + His pleasures pleasing'st in the eye, + Which tasted once with loathing die: + They find of follies 'tis the chief, + Their woe to woo, to wed their grief. + + If for their own content they choose + Forthwith their kindred's love they lose; + And if their kindred they content, + For ever after they repent; + O 'tis of all our follies chief, + Our woe to woo, to wed our grief. + + In bed, what strifes are bred by day, + Our puling wives do open lay; + None friends, none foes we must esteem + But whom they so vouchsafe to deem: + O 'tis of all our follies chief, + Our woe to woo, to wed our grief. + + Their smiles we want if aught they want, + And either we their wills must grant + Or die they will, or are with child; + Their longings must not be beguiled: + O 'tis of all our follies chief, + Our woe to woo, to wed our grief. + + Foul wives are jealous, fair wives false, + Marriage to either binds us thrall; + Wherefore being bound we must obey + And forcèd be perforce to say,-- + Of all our bliss it is the chief, + Our woe to woo, to wed our grief. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589. + + From Citheron the warlike boy is fled + And smiling sits upon a Virgin's lap,-- + Thereby to train poor misers to the trap, + Whom Beauty draws with fancy to be fed: + And when Desire with eager looks is led, + Then from her eyes + The arrow flies, + Feather'd with flame, arm'd with a golden head. + + Her careless thoughts are freèd of that flame + Wherewith her thralls are scorchèd to the heart: + If Love would so, would God the enchanting dart + Might once return and burn from whence it came! + Not to deface of Beauty's work the frame, + But by rebound + It might be found + What secret smart I suffer by the same. + + If Love be just, then just is my desire; + And if unjust, why is he call'd a God? + O God, O God, O Just! reserve thy rod + To chasten those that from thy laws retire! + But choose aright (good Love! I thee require) + The golden head, + Not that of lead! + Her heart is frost and must dissolve by fire. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _Second Book of Songs and Airs_, 1600. + + TO MASTER HUGH HOLLAND. + + From Fame's desire, from Love's delight retired, + In these sad groves an hermit's life I lead: + And those false pleasures, which I once admired, + With sad remembrance of my fall, I dread. + To birds, to trees, to earth, impart I this; + For she less secret, and as senseless is. + O sweet woods! the delight of solitariness! + O how much do I love your solitariness! + + Experience which repentance only brings, + Doth bid me, now, my heart from Love estrange! + Love is disdained when it doth look at Kings; + And Love low placèd base and apt to change. + There Power doth take from him his liberty, + Her[e] Want of Worth makes him in cradle die. + O sweet woods! the delight of solitariness! + O how much do I love your solitariness! + + You men that give false worship unto Love, + And seek that which you never shall obtain; + The endless work of Sisyphus you prove, + Whose end is this, to know you strive in vain. + Hope and Desire, which now your idols be, + You needs must lose, and feel Despair with me. + O sweet woods! the delight of solitariness! + O how much do I love your solitariness! + + You woods, in you the fairest Nymphs have walked: + Nymphs at whose sights all hearts did yield to love. + You woods, in whom dear lovers oft have talked, + How do you now a place of mourning prove? + Wanstead! my Mistress saith this is the doom. + Thou art love's child-bed, nursery, and tomb. + O sweet woods! the delight of solitariness! + O how much do I love your solitariness! + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Two Books of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Give Beauty all her right! + She's not to one form tied; + Each shape yields fair delight + Where her perfections bide: + Helen, I grant, might pleasing be, + And Ros'mond was as sweet as she. + + Some the quick eye commends, + Some swelling[4] lips and red; + Pale looks have many friends, + Through sacred sweetness bred: + Meadows have flowers that pleasures move, + Though roses are the flowers of love. + + Free beauty is not bound + To one unmovèd clime; + She visits every ground + And favours every time. + Let the old loves with mine compare, + My sovereign is as sweet and fair. + +[4] Old ed. "smelling." + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _First Book of Songs or Airs_, 1597. + + Go crystal tears! like to the morning showers, + And sweetly weep into thy lady's breast! + And as the dews revive the drooping flowers, + So let your drops of pity be addrest! + To quicken up the thoughts of my desert, + Which sleeps too sound whilst I from her depart. + + Haste hapless sighs! and let your burning breath + Dissolve the ice of her indurate heart! + Whose frozen rigour, like forgetful Death, + Feels never any touch of my desert. + Yet sighs and tears to her I sacrifice + Both from a spotless heart and patient eyes. + + +From EGERTON MS., 2013. _The Verses were set to Music by Dr. John +Wilson._ + + Go, turn away those cruel eyes, + For they have quite undone me; + They used not so to tyrannize + When first those glances won me. + + But 'tis the custom of you men,-- + False men thus to deceive us! + To love but till we love again, + And then again to leave us. + + Go, let alone my heart and me, + Which thou hast thus affrighted! + I did not think I could by thee + Have been so ill requited. + + But now I find 'tis I must prove + That men have no compassion; + When we are won, you never love + Poor women, but for fashion, + + Do recompense my love with hate, + And kill my heart! I'm sure + Thou'lt one day say, when 'tis too late, + Thou never hadst a truer. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Second Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Good men show! if you can tell, + Where doth Human Pity dwell? + Far and near her I would seek, + So vexed with sorrow is my breast. + "She," they say, "to all, is meek; + And only makes th' unhappy blest." + + Oh! if such a saint there be, + Some hope yet remains for me: + Prayer or sacrifice may gain + From her implorèd grace, relief; + To release me of my pain, + Or at the least to ease my grief. + + Young am I, and far from guile, + The more is my woe the while: + Falsehood, with a smooth disguise, + My simple meaning hath abused: + Casting mists before mine eyes, + By which my senses are confused. + + Fair he is, who vowed to me, + That he only mine would be; + But alas, his mind is caught + With every gaudy bait he sees: + And, too late, my flame is taught + That too much kindness makes men freeze. + + From me, all my friends are gone, + While I pine for him alone; + And not one will rue my case, + But rather my distress deride: + That I think, there is no place, + Where Pity ever yet did bide. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Airs or Fantastic Spirits_, 1608. + + Ha ha! ha ha! this world doth pass + Most merrily, I'll be sworn; + For many an honest Indian ass + Goes for an Unicorn. + Farra, diddle dino; + This is idle fino. + + Ty hye! ty hye! O sweet delight! + He tickles this age that can + Call Tullia's ape a marmosyte + And Leda's goose a swan. + Farra diddle dino; + This is idle fino. + + So so! so so! fine English days! + When false play's no reproach: + For he that doth the coachman praise, + May safely use the coach. + Farra diddle dino; + This is idle fino. + + +From ROBERT JONES's _Ultimum Vale or Third Book of Airs_ (1608). + + Happy he + Who, to sweet home retired, + Shuns glory so admired, + And to himself lives free, + Whilst he who strives with pride to climb the skies + Falls down with foul disgrace before he rise. + + Let who will + The active life commend + And all his travels bend + Earth with his fame to fill: + Such fame, so forced, at last dies with his death, + Which life maintain'd by others' idle breath. + + My delights, + To dearest home confined, + Shall there make good my mind + Not aw'd with fortune's spites: + High trees heaven blasts, winds shake and honors[5] fell, + When lowly plants long time in safety dwell. + + All I can, + My worldly strife shall be + They one day say of me + 'He died a good old man': + On his sad soul a heavy burden lies + Who, known to all, unknown to himself dies. + +[5] Qy. "hammers"? + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _Second Set of Madrigals_, 1609. + + Happy, O! happy he, who not affecting + The endless toils attending worldly cares, + With mind reposed, all discontents rejecting, + In silent peace his way to heaven prepares, + Deeming this life a scene, the world a stage + Whereon man acts his weary pilgrimage. + + +From FRANCIS PILKINGTON's _First Set Of Madrigals_, 1613. + + Have I found her? O rich finding! + Goddess-like for to behold, + Her fair tresses seemly binding + In a chain of pearl and gold. + Chain me, chain me, O most fair, + Chain me to thee with that hair! + + +From JOHN MUNDY's _Songs and Psalms_, 1594. + + Heigh ho! chill go to plough no more! + Sit down and take thy rest; + Of golden groats I have full store + To flaunt it with the best. + But I love and I love, and who thinks you? + The finest lass that e'er you knew, + Which makes me sing when I should cry + Heigh ho! for love I die. + + +From JOHN MAYNARD's _Twelve Wonders of the World_, 1611. + + THE BACHELOR. + + How many things as yet + Are dear alike to me! + The field, the horse, the dog, + Love, arms, or liberty. + + I have no wife as yet + That I may call mine own; + I have no children yet + That by my name are known. + + Yet, if I married were, + I would not wish to thrive + If that I could not tame + The veriest shrew alive. + + +From THOMAS FORD's _Music of Sundry Kinds_, 1607. + + How shall I then describe my Love? + When all men's skilful art + Is far inferior to her worth, + To praise the unworthiest part. + + She's chaste in looks, mild in her speech, + In actions all discreet, + Of nature loving, pleasing most, + In virtue all complete. + + And for her voice a Philomel, + Her lips may all lips scorn; + No sun more clear than is her eye, + In brightest summer morn. + + A mind wherein all virtues rest + And take delight to be, + And where all virtues graft themselves + In that most fruitful tree: + + A tree that India doth not yield, + Nor ever yet was seen, + Where buds of virtue always spring, + And all the year grow green. + + That country's blest wherein she grows, + And happy is that rock + From whence she springs: but happiest he + That grafts in such a stock. + + +From HENRY LICHFILD's _First Set of Madrigals_, 1613. + + I always loved to call my lady Rose, + For in her cheeks roses do sweetly glose, + And from her lips she such sweet odours threw + As roses do 'gainst Ph[oe]bus' morning-view: + But when I thought to pull't, hope was bereft me,-- + My rose was gone and naught but prickles left me. + + +From _Melismata_, 1611. + + A WOOING SONG OF A YEOMAN OF KENT'S SON. + + I have house and land in Kent, + And if you'll love me, love me now; + Twopence-halfpenny is my rent, + I cannot come every day to woo. + Chorus. _Twopence-halfpenny is his rent, + And he cannot come every day to woo._ + + Ich am my vather's eldest zonne, + My mother eke doth love me well, + For ich can bravely clout my shoone, + And ich full well can ring a bell. + Chorus. _For he can bravely clout his shoone, + And he full well can ring a bell._ + + My vather he gave me a hog, + My mouther she gave me a zow; + I have a God-vather dwels thereby, + And he on me bestowed a plow. + Chorus. _He has a God-vather dwells thereby, + And he on him bestowed a plough._ + + One time I gave thee a paper of pins, + Another time a tawdry-lace; + And if thou wilt not grant me love, + In truth ich die bevore thy face. + Chorus. _And if thou wilt not grant his love, + In truth he'll die bevore thy vace._ + + Ich have been twice our Whitson-lord, + Ich have had ladies many vair, + And eke thou hast my heart in hold + And in my mind zeems passing rare. + Chorus. _And eke thou hast his heart in hold + And in his mind seems passing rare._ + + Ich will put on my best white slops + And ich will wear my yellow hose, + And on my head a good grey hat, + And in't ich stick a lovely rose. + Chorus. _And on his head a good grey hat, + And in't he'll stick a lovely rose._ + + Wherefore cease off, make no delay, + And if you'll love me, love me now; + Or else ich zeek zome oderwhere, + For I cannot come every day to woo. + Chorus. _Or else he'll zeek zome oderwhere, + For he cannot come every day to woo._ + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs of Sadness and Piety_, +1588. + + I joy not in no earthly bliss, + I force not Cr[oe]sus' wealth a straw; + For care I know not what it is + I fear not Fortune's fatal law: + My mind is such as may not move + For beauty bright nor force of love. + + I wish but what I have at will, + I wander not to seek for more; + I like the plain, I climb no hill; + In greatest storms I sit on shore + And laugh at them that toil in vain + To get what must be lost again. + + I kiss not where I wish to kill; + I feign not love where most I hate; + I break no sleep to win my will; + I wait not at the mighty's gate; + I scorn no poor, nor fear no rich; + I feel no want, nor have too much. + + The court and cart I like nor loath; + Extremes are counted worst of all; + The golden mean between them both + Doth surest sit and fears no fall. + This is my choice: for why? I find + No wealth is like the quiet mind. + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _Second Set of Madrigals_, 1609. + + I live, and yet methinks I do not breathe; + I thirst and drink, I drink and thirst again; + I sleep and yet do dream I am awake; + I hope for that I have; I have and want: + I sing and sigh; I love and hate at once. + O, tell me, restless soul, what uncouth jar + Doth cause in store such want, in peace such war? + + _Risposta._ + There is a jewel which no Indian mines + Can buy, no chymic art can counterfeit; + It makes men rich in greatest poverty; + Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold, + The homely whistle to sweet music's strain: + Seldom it come, to few from heaven sent, + That much in little, all in nought,--Content. + + +From JOHN MAYNARD's _Twelve Wonders of the World_, 1611. + + THE MAID. + + I marriage would forswear, + But that I hear men tell + That she that dies a maid + Must lead an ape in hell. + + Therefore, if fortune come, + I will not mock and play + Nor drive the bargain on + Till it be driven away. + + Titles and lands I like, + Yet rather fancy can + A man that wanteth gold + Than gold that wants a man. + + +From JOHN MAYNARD's _Twelve Wonders of the World_, 1611. + + THE MARRIED MAN. + + I only am the man + Among all married men + That do not wish the priest, + To be unlinked again. + + And though my shoe did wring + I would not make my moan, + Nor think my neighbours' chance + More happy than mine own. + + Yet court I not my wife, + But yield observance due, + Being neither fond nor cross, + Nor jealous nor untrue. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _Second Book of Songs or Airs_, 1600. + + I saw my Lady weep, + And sorrow proud to be advancèd so + In those fair eyes where all perfections keep. + Her face was full of woe, + But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts + Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts. + + Sorrow was there made fair, + And Passion wise; Tears a delightful thing; + Silence beyond all speech, a wisdom rare; + She made her sighs to sing, + And all things with so sweet a sadness move + As made my heart at once both grieve and love. + + O fairer than aught else + The world can show, leave off in time to grieve. + Enough, enough; your joyful look excels; + Tears kill the heart, believe. + O strive not to be excellent in woe, + Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow. + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1598. + + I sung sometime my thoughts and fancy's pleasure, + Where I did list, or time served best and leisure; + While Daphne did invite me + To supper once, and drank to me to spite me. + I smiled, but yet did doubt her, + And drank where she had drunk before, to flout her; + But, O! while I did eye her, + Mine eyes drank love, my lips drank burning fire. + + +From ORLANDO GIBBONS' _First Set of Madrigals_, 1612. + + I weigh not Fortune's frown nor smile, + I joy not much in earthly joys, + I seek not state, I reak [_sic_] not style, + I am not fond of Fancy's toys. + I rest so pleased with what I have + I wish no more, no more I crave. + + I tremble not at noise of war, + I quake not at the thunder's crack, + I shrink not at a blazing star, + I sound not at the news of wreck, + I fear no loss, I hope no gain, + I envy none, I none disdain. + + I see Ambition never pleased, + I see some Tantals starve in store, + I see gold's dropsy seldom eased, + I see each Midas gape for more: + I neither want nor yet abound, + Enough's a feast, content is crowned. + + I feign not friendship where I hate, + I fawn not on the great for grace, + I prize, I praise a mean estate + Ne yet too lofty, nor too base, + This is all my choice, my cheer-- + A mind content and conscience clear. + + +From THOMAS MORLEY's _Madrigals to Four Voices_, 1600. + + I will no more come to thee + That flout'st me when I woo thee; + Still ty hy thou criest + And all my lovely rings and pins denyest. + O say, alas, what moves thee + To grieve him so that loves thee? + Leave, alas, then, ah leave tormenting + And give my burning some relenting. + + +From ROBERT JONES' _First Book of Songs and Airs_, 1601. + + If fathers knew but how to leave + Their children wit as they do wealth, + And could constrain them to receive + That physic which brings perfect health, + The world would not admiring stand + A woman's face and woman's hand. + + Women confess they must obey, + We men will needs be servants still; + We kiss their hands, and what they say + We must commend, be't ne'er so ill: + Thus we, like fools, admiring stand + Her pretty foot and pretty hand. + + We blame their pride, which we increase + By making mountains of a mouse; + We praise because we know we please; + Poor women are too credulous + To think that we admiring stand + Or foot, or face, or foolish hand. + + +From CAMPION and ROSSETER's _Book of Airs_, 1601. + + If I urge my kind desires, + She, unkind, doth them reject, + Women's hearts are painted fires, + To deceive them that affect. + I alone love's fires include: + She alone doth them delude. + + She hath often vowed her love: + But alas no fruit I find. + That her fires are false I prove + Yet, in her, no fault I find. + I was thus unhappy born, + And ordained to be her scorn. + + Yet if human care or pain, + May the heavenly order change; + She will hate her own disdain, + And repent she was so strange: + For a truer heart than I, + Never lived, nor loved to die. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _First Book of Songs and Airs_, 1597. + + If my complaints could passions move, + Or make Love see wherein I suffer wrong; + My passions were enough to prove + That my despairs had governed me too long. + O Love, I live and die in thee! + Thy wounds do freshly bleed in me. + + Thy grief in my deep sighs still speaks, + Yet thou dost hope when I despair; + My heart for thy unkindness breaks; + Thou say'st thou can'st my harms repair, + And when I hope thou mak'st me hope in vain; + Yet for redress thou let'st me still complain. + + Can Love be rich, and yet I want? + Is Love my judge, and yet am I condemned? + Thou plenty hast, yet me dost scant; + Thou made a god, and yet thy power contemned! + That I do live, it is thy power; + That I desire it is thy worth. + + If love doth make men's lives too sour, + Let me not love, nor live henceforth! + Die shall my hopes, but not my faith, + That you, that of my fall may hearers be, + May hear Despair, which truly saith + "I was more true to Love, than Love to me." + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + If thou long'st so much to learn, sweet boy, what 'tis to love, + Do but fix thy thoughts on me and thou shalt quickly prove: + Little suit at first shall win + Way to thy abashed desire, + But then will I hedge thee in, + Salamander-like, with fire. + + With thee dance I will, and sing, and thy fond dalliance bear; + We the grovy hills will climb and play the wantons there; + Other whiles we'll gather flowers, + Lying dallying on the grass; + And thus our delightful hours, + Full of waking dreams, shall pass. + + When thy joys were thus at height, my love should turn from thee, + Old acquaintance then should grow as strange, as strange might be: + Twenty rivals thou shouldst find, + Breaking all their hearts for me, + While to all I'll prove more kind + And more forward than to thee. + + Thus thy silly youth, enraged, would soon my love defy, + But, alas, poor soul, too late! clipt wings can never fly. + Those sweet hours which we had past, + Called to thy mind, thy heart would burn; + And couldst thou fly ne'er so fast, + They would make thee straight return. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Sonnets and Songs_, 1588. + + If women could be fair and never fond, + Or that their beauty might continue still, + I would not marvel though they made men bond + By service long to purchase their goodwill: + But when I see how frail these creatures are, + I laugh that men forget themselves so far. + + To mark what choice they make and how they change, + How, leaving best, the worst they choose out still; + And how, like haggards wild, about they range, + And scorning reason follow after will![6] + Who would not shake such buzzards from the fist + And let them fly (fair fools!) which way they list? + + Yet for our sport we fawn and flatter both, + To pass the time when nothing else can please: + And train them on to yield by subtle oath + The sweet content that gives such humour ease: + And then we say, when we their follies try, + "To play with fools, O, what a fool was I!" + +[6] So Oliphant.--Old ed., "Scorning after reason to follow will." + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Songs, and Sonnets_, 1611. + + In crystal towers and turrets richly set + With glitt'ring gems that shine against the sun, + In regal rooms of jasper and of jet, + Content of mind not always likes to won;[7] + But oftentimes it pleaseth her to stay + In simple cotes enclosed with walls of clay. + +[7] Dwell. + + +From JOHN COPRARIO's _Funeral Tears, etc._, 1606. + + In darkness let me dwell, the ground shall sorrow be, + The roof despair to bar all cheerful light from me, + The walls of marble black that moistened still shall weep, + My music hellish jarring sounds to banish friendly sleep: + Thus wedded to my woes, and bedded in my tomb + O let me dying live till death doth come. + + My dainties grief shall be, and tears my poisoned wine, + My sighs the air through which my panting heart shall pine, + My robes my mind shall suit exceeding blackest night, + My study shall be tragic thoughts sad fancy to delight, + Pale ghosts and frightful shades shall my acquaintance be: + O thus, my hapless joy, I haste to thee. + + +From JOHN MUNDY's _Songs and Psalms_, 1594. + + In midst of woods or pleasant grove, + Where all sweet birds do sing, + Methought I heard so rare a sound + Which made the heavens to ring. + + The charm was good, the noise full sweet, + Each bird did play his part; + And I admired to hear the same, + Joy sprang into my heart. + + The black bird made the sweetest sound, + Whose tunes did far excel; + Full pleasantly, and most profound + Was all things placed well. + + Thy pretty tunes, mine own sweet bird, + Done with so good a grace, + Extolls thy name, prefers the same + Abroad in every place. + + Thy music grave, bedeckèd well + With sundry points of skill, + Bewrays thy knowledge excellent + Ingrafted in thy will. + + My tongue shall speak, my pen shall write + In praise of thee to tell; + The sweetest bird that ever was, + In friendly sort farewell. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals_, 1598. + + In pride of May + The fields are gay, + The birds do sweetly sing. Fa la la! + So Nature would + That all things should + With joy begin the spring. Fa la la! + + Then, Lady dear, + Do you appear + In beauty like the spring: Fa la la! + I dare well say + The birds that day + More cheerfully will sing. Fa la la! + + +From ROBERT JONES's _Musical Dream_, 1609. + + {Pheugein dê ton Erôta kenos ponos.}--_Archias_. + + In Sherwood lived stout Robin Hood, + An archer great, none greater, + His bow and shafts were sure and good, + Yet Cupid's were much better; + Robin could shoot at many a hart and miss, + Cupid at first could hit a heart of his. + Hey, jolly Robin Hood, ho jolly Robin Hood, + Love finds out me + As well as thee, + To follow me to the green-wood. + + A noble thief was Robin Hood, + Wise was he could deceive him; + Yet Marian in his bravest mood + Could of his heart bereave him: + No greater thief lies hidden under skies, + Than beauty closely lodged in women's eyes. + Hey, jolly Robin, &c. + + An outlaw was this Robin Hood, + His life free and unruly, + Yet to fair Marian bound he stood + And love's debt paid her duly: + Whom curb of strictest law could not hold in, + Love[8] to obedience with a wink could win. + Hey, jolly Robin, &c. + + Now wend we home, stout Robin Hood, + Leave we the woods behind us, + Love-passions must not be withstood, + Love everywhere will find us. + I lived in field and town, and so did he; + I got me to the woods, Love followed me. + Hey, jolly Robin, &c. + +[8] Old ed.,--"Love with obeyednes and a winke could winne." + + +From MICHAEL ESTE's _Madrigals of three, four and five parts_, 1604. (By +Nicholas Breton. Originally published in 1591.) + + In the merry month of May, + On a morn by break of day, + Forth I walk'd by the wood-side, + Whereas May was in her pride: + There I spyèd 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 loved 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 seely 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. + + +From THOMAS GREAVES' _Songs of Sundry Kinds_, 1604. + + Inconstant Laura makes me death to crave, + For wanting her I must embrace my grave; + A little grave will ease my malady + And set me free from love's fell tyranny. + Intomb me then and show her where I lie, + And say I died through her inconstancy. + + +From HENRY LICHFILD's _First Set of Madrigals_, 1613. + + Injurious hours, whilst any joy doth bless me, + With speedy wings you fly and so release me; + But if some sorrow do oppress my heart, + You creep as if you never meant to part. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589. + + Is Love a boy,--what means he then to strike? + Or is he blind,--why will he be a guide? + Is he a man,--why doth he hurt his like? + Is he a God,--why doth he men deride? + No one of these, but one compact of all: + A wilful boy, a man still dealing blows, + Of purpose blind to lead men to their thrall, + A god that rules unruly--God, he knows. + + Boy, pity me that am a child again; + Blind, be no more my guide to make me stray; + Man, use thy might to force away my pain; + God, do me good and lead me to my way; + And if thou beest a power to me unknown, + Power of my life, let here thy grace be shown. + + +From _Melismata_, 1611. + +THE MARRIAGE OF THE FROG AND THE MOUSE. + + It was the frog in the well, + Humbledum, humbledum, + And the merry mouse in the mill, + Tweedle, tweedle, twino. + + The frog would a wooing ride + Sword and buckler by his side. + + When he upon his high horse set, + His boots they shone as black as jet. + + When he came to the merry mill-pin,-- + "Lady Mouse, been you within?" + + Then came out the dusty mouse: + "I am Lady of this house: + + Hast thou any mind of me?" + "I have e'en great mind of thee?" + + "Who shall this marriage make?" + "Our Lord which is the rat," + + "What shall we have to our supper?" + "Three beans in a pound of butter?" + + When supper they were at, + The frog, the mouse, and e'en the rat; + + Then came in Gib our cat, + And catched the mouse e'en by the back. + + Then did they separate, + And the frog leaped on the floor so flat. + + Then came in Dick our drake, + And drew the frog e'en to the lake. + + The rat run up the wall, + Humbledum, humbledum; + A goodly company, the Devil go with all! + Tweedle tweedle twino. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Two Books of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Jack and Joan, they think no ill, + But loving live, and merry still; + Do their week-days' work, and pray + Devoutly on the holy day: + Skip and trip it on the green, + And help to choose the Summer Queen; + Lash out at a country feast + Their silver penny with the best. + + Well can they judge of nappy ale, + And tell at large a winter tale; + Climb up to the apple loft, + And turn the crabs till they be soft. + Tib is all the father's joy, + And little Tom the mother's boy. + All their pleasure is Content; + And Care, to pay their yearly rent. + + Joan can call by name her cows + And deck her windows with green boughs; + She can wreaths and tutties[9] make, + And trim with plums a bridal cake. + Jack knows what brings gain or loss; + And his long flail can stoutly toss: + Makes the hedge which others break, + And ever thinks what he doth speak. + + Now, you courtly dames and knights, + That study only strange delights; + Though you scorn the homespun gray + And revel in your rich array; + Though your tongues dissemble deep, + And can your heads from danger keep; + Yet, for all your pomp and train, + Securer lives the silly swain. + +[9] Nosegays. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Kind are her answers, + But her performance keeps no day; + Breaks time, as dancers, + From their own music when they stray. + All her free favours and smooth words + Wing my hopes in vain. + O, did ever voice so sweet but only feign? + Can true love yield such delay, + Converting joy to pain? + + Lost is our freedom + When we submit to women so: + Why do we need 'em + When, in their best, they work our woe? + There is no wisdom + Can alter ends by Fate prefixt. + O, why is the good of man with evil mixt? + Never were days yet callèd two + But one night went betwixt. + + +From CAMPION and ROSSETER's _Book of Airs_, 1601. + + Kind in unkindness, when will you relent + And cease with faint love true love to torment? + Still entertained, excluded still I stand; + Her glove still hold, but cannot touch the hand. + + In her fair hand my hopes and comforts rest: + O might my fortunes with that hand be blest! + No envious breaths then my deserts could shake, + For they are good whom such true love doth make. + + O let not beauty so forget her birth + That it should fruitless home return to earth! + Love is the fruit of beauty, then love one! + Not your sweet self, for such self-love is none. + + Love one that only lives in loving you; + Whose wronged deserts would you with pity view, + This strange distaste which your affection sways + Would relish love, and you find better days. + + Thus till my happy sight your beauty views, + Whose sweet remembrance still my hope renews, + Let these poor lines solicit love for me, + And place my joys where my desires would be. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals of Five and Six Parts_, 1600. + + Lady, the birds right fairly + Are singing ever early; + The lark, the thrush, the nightingale, + The make-sport cuckoo and the quail. + These sing of Love! then why sleep ye? + To love your sleep it may not be. + + +From THOMAS GREAVES' _Songs of Sundry Kinds_, 1604. + + Lady, the melting crystal of your eye + Like frozen drops upon your cheeks did lie; + Mine eye was dancing on them with delight, + And saw love's flames within them burning bright, + Which did mine eye entice + To play with burning ice; + But O, my heart thus sporting with desire, + My careless eye did set my heart on fire. + + O that a drop from such a sweet fount flying + Should flame like fire and leave my heart a-dying! + I burn, my tears can never drench it + Till in your eyes I bathe my heart and quench it: + But there, alas, love with his fire lies sleeping, + And all conspire to burn my heart with weeping. + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _Madrigals_, 1598. + + Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting, + Which clad in damask mantles deck the arbours, + And then behold your lips where sweet love harbours, + My eyes present me with a double doubting: + For viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes + Whether the roses be your lips or your lips [be] the roses. + + +From J. DANYEL's _Songs for the Lute, Viol and Voice_, 1606. + + Let not Chloris think, because + She hath unvassel'd me, + That her beauty can give laws + To others that are free: + I was made to be the prey + And booty of her eyes! + In my bosom, she may say. + Her greatest kingdom lies. + + Though others may her brow adore, + Yet more must I that therein see far more + Than any other's eyes have power to see; + She is to me + More than to any others she can be. + I can discern more secret notes + That in the margin of her cheeks Love quotes + Than any else besides have art to read; + No looks proceed + From those fair eyes but to me wonder breed. + + O then why + Should she fly + From him to whom her sight + Doth add so much above her might? + Why should not she + Still joy to reign in me? + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Songs and Sonnets_, 1611. + + Let not the sluggish sleep + Close up thy waking eye, + Until with judgment deep + Thy daily deeds thou try: + He that one sin in conscience keeps + When he to quiet goes, + More vent'rous is than he that sleeps + With twenty mortal foes. + + +From GEORGE MASON's and JOHN EARSDEN's _Airs that were sung and played +at Brougham Castle in Westmoreland in the King's Entertainment given by +the Earl of Cumberland_, 1618. + + Let us in a lovers' round + Circle all this hallowed ground; + Softly, softly trip and go, + The light-foot Fairies jet it so. + Forward then, and back again, + Here and there and everywhere, + Winding to and fro, + Skipping high and louting low; + And, like lovers, hand in hand, + March around and make a stand. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals of Six Parts_, 1600. + + Like two proud armies marching in the field,-- + Joining a thund'ring fight, each scorns to yield,-- + So in my heart your beauty and my reason: + One claims the crown, the other says 'tis treason. + But oh! your beauty shineth as the sun; + And dazzled reason yields as quite undone. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals to Three, Four, Five and Six Voices_, +1597. + + Lo! country sport that seldom fades; + A garland of the spring, + A prize for dancing, country maids + With merry pipes we bring. + Then all at once _for our town_ cries! + Pipe on, for we will have the prize. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Two Books of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Lo, when back mine eye + Pilgrim-like I cast, + What fearful ways I spie + Which, blinded, I securely passed! + + But now heaven hath drawn + From my brows that night; + As when the day doth dawn, + So clears my long-imprisoned sight. + + Straight the Caves of Hell + Dressed with flowers I see, + Wherein False Pleasures dwell, + That, winning most, most deadly be. + + Throngs of maskèd fiends, + Winged like angels, fly; + Even in the gates of friends, + In fair disguise black dangers lie. + + Straight to heaven I raised + My restorèd sight, + And with loud voice I praised + The LORD of ever-during light. + + And since I had strayed + From His ways so wide, + His grace I humbly prayed + Henceforth to be my guard and guide. + + +From JOHN MAYNARD's _Twelve Wonders of the World_, 1611. + + THE COURTIER. + + Long have I lived in Court, + Yet learned not all this while + To sell poor suiters smoke, + Nor where I hate to smile; + Superiors to adore, + Inferiors to despise, + To flie from such as fall, + To follow such as rise: + + To cloak a poor desire + Under a rich array, + Nor to aspire by Vice, + Though 'twere the quicker way. + + +From ROBERT JONES' _Second Book of Songs and Airs_, 1601. + + Love is a bable, + No man is able + To say 'tis this or 'tis that; + So full of passions + Of sundry fashions, + 'Tis like I cannot tell what. + + Love's fair in the cradle, + Foul in the fable, + 'Tis either too cold or too hot; + An arrant liar, + Fed by desire, + It is and yet it is not. + + Love is a fellow + Clad oft in yellow,[10] + The canker-worm of the mind, + A privy mischief, + And such a sly thief + No man knows which way to find. + + Love is a wonder + That's here and yonder, + As common to one as to moe; + A monstrous cheater, + Every man's debtor; + Hang him and so let him go. + +[10] The colour of jealousy. + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _Second Set of Madrigals_, 1609. + + Love not me for comely grace, + For my pleasing eye or face, + Nor for any outward part: + No, nor for a constant heart! + For these may fail or turn to ill: + So thou and I shall sever. + Keep therefore a true woman's eye, + And love me still, but know not why! + So hast thou the same reason still + To doat upon me ever. + + +From ROBERT JONES' _Second Book of Songs and Airs_, 1601. + + Love's god is a boy, + None but cowherds regard him, + His dart is a toy, + Great opinion hath marred him: + The fear of the wag + Hath made him so brag; + Chide him, he'll flie thee + And not come nigh thee. + Little boy, pretty knave, shoot not at random, + For if you hit me, slave, I'll tell your grandam. + + Fond love is a child + And his compass is narrow, + Young fools are beguiled + With the fame of his arrow; + He dareth not strike + If his stroke do mislike: + Cupid, do you hear me? + Come not too near me. + Little boy, pretty knave, hence I beseech you, + For if you hit me, knave, in faith I'll breech you. + + Th' ape loves to meddle + When he finds a man idle, + Else is he a-flirting + Where his mark is a-courting; + When women grow true + Come teach me to sue, + Then I'll come to thee + Pray thee and woo thee. + Little boy, pretty knave, make me not stagger, + For if you hit me, knave, I'll call thee, beggar. + + +From ROBERT JONES' _Second Book of Songs and Airs_, 1601. + + Love winged my hopes and taught me how to fly + Far from base earth, but not to mount too high; + For true pleasure + Lives in measure, + Which if men forsake, + Blinded they into folly run and grief for pleasure take. + + But my vain hopes, proud of their new-taught flight, + Enamoured sought to woo the sun's fair light, + Whose rich brightness + Moved their lightness + To aspire so high + That all scorched and consumed with fire now drown'd in woe they lie. + + And none but Love their woeful hap did rue, + For Love did know that their desires were true; + Though Fate frownèd, + And now drownèd + They in sorrow dwell, + It was the purest light of heaven for whose fair love they fell. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + "Maids are simple," some men say, + "They forsooth will trust no men." + But should they men's wills obey, + Maids were very simple then. + + Truth a rare flower now is grown, + Few men wear it in their hearts; + Lovers are more easily known + By their follies than deserts. + + Safer may we credit give + To a faithless wandering Jew, + Than a young man's vows believe + When he swears his love is true. + + Love they make a poor blind child, + But let none trust such as he; + Rather than to be beguiled, + Ever let me simple be. + + +From _Melismata_, 1611. + + THE BELLMAN's SONG. + + Maids to bed and cover coal; + Let the mouse out of her hole; + Crickets in the chimney sing + Whilst the little bell doth ring; + If fast asleep, who can tell + When the clapper hits the bell? + + +From MARTIN PEERSON's _Mottects or Grave Chamber-Music_, 1630. + + More than most fair, full of all heavenly fire, + Kindled above to shew the Maker's glory; + Beauty's first-born, in whom all powers conspire + To write the Graces' life and Muses' story; + If in my heart all nymphs else be defacèd, + Honour the shrine where you alone are placèd. + + Thou window of the sky, and pride of spirits, + True character of honour in perfection, + Thou heavenly creature, judge of earthly merits, + And glorious prison of men's pure affection: + If in my heart all nymphs else be defacèd + Honour the shrine where you alone are placèd. + + +From THOMAS VAUTOR's _Songs of divers Airs and Natures_, 1619. + + Mother, I will have a husband, + And I will have him out of hand! + Mother, I will sure have one + In spite of her that will have none. + + John-a-Dun should have had me long ere this: + He said I had good lips to kiss. + Mother, I will sure have one + In spite of her that will have none. + + For I have heard 'tis trim when folks do love; + By good Sir John I swear now I will prove. + For, Mother, I will sure have one + In spite of her that will have none. + + To the town, therefore, will I gad + To get me a husband, good or bad. + Mother, I will sure have one + In spite of her that will have none. + + +From MICHAEL ESTE's _Madrigals of Three, Four and Five Parts_, 1604. + + My hope a counsel with my heart + Hath long desired to be, + And marvels much so dear a friend + Is not retain'd by me. + + She doth condemn my haste + In passing the estate + Of my whole life into their hands + Who nought repays but hate: + + And not sufficed with this, she says, + I did release the right + Of my enjoyèd liberties + Unto your beauteous sight. + + +From ROBERT JONES' _Second Book of Songs and Airs_, 1601. + + My love bound me with a kiss + That I should no longer stay; + When I felt so sweet a bliss + I had less power to part away: + Alas, that women doth not know + Kisses make men loath to go. + + Yes, she knows it but too well, + For I heard when Venus' dove + In her ear did softly tell + That kisses were the seals of love: + O muse not then though it be so, + Kisses make men loath to go. + + Wherefore did she thus inflame + My desires heat my blood, + Instantly to quench the same + And starve whom she had given food? + I the common sense can show, + Kisses make men loath to go. + + Had she bid me go at first + It would ne'er have grieved my heart, + Hope delayed had been the worst; + But ah to kiss and then to part! + How deep it struck, speak, gods, you know + Kisses make men loath to go. + + +From ROBERT JONES' _Second Book of Songs and Airs_, 1601. + + My Love is neither young nor old, + Not fiery-hot nor frozen-cold, + But fresh and fair as springing briar + Blooming the fruit of love's desire; + Not snowy-white nor rosy-red, + But fair enough for shepherd's bed; + And such a love was never seen + On hill or dale or country-green. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs_, 1588. + + My mind to me a kingdom is: + Such perfect joy therein I find + That it excels all other bliss + That God or nature hath assigned. + Though much I want, that most would have, + Yet still my mind forbids to crave. + + No princely port, nor wealthy store, + No force to win a victory, + No wily wit to salve a sore, + No shape to win a loving eye; + To none of these I yield as thrall! + For why? my mind despise them all. + + I see that plenty surfeits oft, + And hasty climbers soonest fall; + I see that such as are aloft, + Mishap doth threaten most of all. + These get with toil, and keep with fear: + Such cares my mind can never bear. + + I press to bear no haughty sway, + I wish no more than may suffice, + I do no more, than well I may; + Look, what I want, my mind supplies. + Lo, thus I triumph like a king, + My mind content with any thing. + + I laugh not at another's loss, + Nor grudge not at another's gain. + No worldly waves my mind can toss, + I brook that is another's bane; + I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend, + I loathe not life nor dread mine end. + + My wealth is health and perfect ease; + And conscience clear my chief defence; + I never seek by bribes to please, + Nor by desert to give offence, + Thus do I live, thus will I die: + Would all did so as well as I! + + +From JOHN MUNDY's _Songs and Psalms_, 1594. + + My prime of youth is but a frost of cares! + My feast of joy is but a dish of pain! + My crop of corn is but a field of tares! + And all my good is but vain hope of gain! + My life is fled, and yet I saw no sun! + And now I live, and now my life is done! + + The Spring is past, and yet it hath not sprung! + The fruit is dead, and yet the leaves be green! + My youth is gone, and yet I am but young! + I saw the World and yet I was not seen! + My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun! + And now I live, and now my life is done. + + +From CAMPION AND ROSSETER's _Book of Airs_, 1601. + + _Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus._ + + My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, + And though the sager sort our deeds reprove + Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive + Into their west, and straight again revive; + But, soon as once is set our little light, + Then must we sleep one ever-during night. + + If all would lead their lives in love like me, + Then bloody swords and armour should not be; + No drum nor trumpet peaceful sleeps should move, + Unless alarm came from the Camp of Love: + But fools do live and waste their little light, + And seek with pain their ever-during night. + + When timely death my life and fortunes ends, + Let not my hearse be vext with mourning friends; + But let all lovers, rich in triumph, come + And with sweet pastimes grace my happy tomb: + And, Lesbia, close up thou my little light + And crown with love my ever-during night. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _First Book of Songs or Airs_, 1597. + + My Thoughts are winged with Hopes, my Hopes with Love: + Mount Love unto the moon in clearest night, + And say, as she doth in the heavens move, + In earth so wanes and waxeth my delight: + And whisper this, but softly, in her ears, + "Hope oft doth hang the head and Trust shed tears." + + And you, my Thoughts, that some mistrust do carry, + If for mistrust my mistress do you blame, + Say, though you alter, yet you do not vary, + As she doth change and yet remain the same; + Distrust doth enter hearts, but not infect, + And Love is sweetest seasoned with Suspect. + + If she for this with clouds do mask her eyes + And make the heavens dark with her disdain, + With windy sighs disperse them in the skies + Or with thy tears dissolve them into rain. + Thoughts, Hopes, and Love, return to me no more + Till Cynthia shine as she hath done before. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Never love unless you can + Bear with all the faults of man: + Men sometimes will jealous be + Though but little cause they see; + And hang the head as discontent, + And speak what straight they will repent. + + Men that but one saint adore + Make a show of love to more; + Beauty must be scorned in none, + Though but truly served in one: + For what is courtship but disguise? + True hearts may have dissembling eyes. + + Men, when their affairs require, + Must awhile themselves retire; + Sometimes hunt, and sometimes hawk, + And not ever sit and talk: + If these and such-like you can bear, + Then like, and love, and never fear! + + +From JOHN FARMER's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1599. (Verses by +Samuel Daniel.) + + Now each creature joys the other, + Passing happy days and hours: + One bird reports unto another + By the fall of silver showers; + Whilst the Earth, our common Mother, + Hath her bosom decked with flowers. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals_, 1597. + + Now every tree renews his summer's green, + Why is your heart in winter's garments clad? + Your beauty says my love is summer's queen, + But your cold love like winter makes me sad: + Then either spring with buds of love again + Or else congeal my thoughts with your disdain. + + +From _Pammelia_, 1609. + + Now God be with old Simeon, + For he made cans for many-a-one, + And a good old man was he; + And Jinkin was his journeyman, + And he could tipple of every can, + And thus he said to me: + "To whom drink you?" + "Sir knave, to you." + Then hey-ho, jolly Jinkin! + I spie a knave in drinking. + + +From ROBERT JONES' _Ultimum Vale or Third Book of Airs_ (1608). + + Now have I learn'd with much ado at last + By true disdain to kill desire; + This was the mark at which I shot so fast, + Unto this height I did aspire: + Proud Love, now do thy worst and spare not, + For thee and all thy shafts I care not. + + What hast thou left wherewith to move my mind, + What life to quicken dead desire? + I count thy words and oaths as light as wind, + I feel no heat in all thy fire: + Go, change thy bow and get a stronger, + Go, break thy shafts and buy thee longer. + + In vain thou bait'st thy hook with beauty's blaze, + In vain thy wanton eyes allure; + These are but toys for them that love to gaze, + I know what harm thy looks procure: + Some strange conceit must be devised, + Or thou and all thy skill despised. + + +From THOMAS FORD's _Music of Sundry Kinds_, 1607. + + Now I see thy looks were feignèd + Quickly lost, and quickly gainèd; + Soft thy skin, like wool of wethers, + Heart inconstant, light as feathers, + Tongue untrusty, subtle sighted, + Wanton will with change delighted. + Siren, pleasant foe to reason, + Cupid plague thee for thy treason! + + Of thine eye I made my mirror, + From thy beauty came my error, + All thy words I counted witty, + All thy sighs I deemèd pity, + Thy false tears, that me aggrievèd + First of all my trust deceivèd. + Siren, pleasant foe to reason, + Cupid plague thee for thy treason! + + Feigned acceptance when I askèd, + Lovely words with cunning maskèd, + Holy vows, but heart unholy; + Wretched man, my trust was folly; + Lily white, and pretty winking, + Solemn vows but sorry thinking. + Siren, pleasant foe to reason, + Cupid plague thee for thy treason! + + Now I see, O seemly cruel, + Others warm them at my fuel, + Wit shall guide me in this durance + Since in love is no assurance: + Change thy pasture, take thy pleasure, + Beauty is a fading treasure. + Siren, pleasant foe to reason, + Cupid, plague thee for thy treason! + + Prime youth lasts not, age will follow + And make white those tresses yellow; + Wrinkled face, for looks delightful, + Shall acquaint the dame despiteful. + And when time shall date thy glory, + Then too late thou wilt be sorry. + Siren, pleasant foe to reason, + Cupid plague thee for thy treason! + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals_, 1598. + + Now is my Chloris fresh as May, + Clad all in green and flowers gay. + Fa la la! + O might I think August were near + That harvest joy might soon appear. + Fa la la! + But she keeps May throughout the year, + And August never comes the near. + Fa la la! + Yet will I hope, though she be May, + August will come another day. + Fa la la! + + +From THOMAS MORLEY's _First Book of Ballets_, 1595. + + Now is the month of maying, + When merry lads are playing + Each with his bonny lass + Upon the greeny grass. + Fa la la! + + The spring clad all in gladness + Doth laugh at winter's sadness, + And to the bagpipe's sound + The nymphs tread out their ground. + Fa la la! + + Fie then, why sit we musing, + Youth's sweet delight refusing? + Say, dainty nymphs, and speak, + Shall we play barley-break. + Fa la la! + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Now let her change! and spare not! + Since she proves strange, I care not! + Feigned love charmed so my delight, + That still I doted on her sight. + But she is gone! new joys embracing, + And my distress disgracing. + + When did I err in blindness? + Or vex her with unkindness? + If my cares served her alone, + Why is she thus untimely gone? + True love abides to th' hour of dying: + False love is ever flying. + + False! then farewell for ever! + Once false proves faithful never! + He that boasts now of thy love, + Shall soon, my present fortunes prove + Were he as fair as bright Adonis: + Faith is not had where none is! + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals of Five and Six Parts_, 1600 + + Now let us make a merry greeting + And thank God Cupid for our meeting: + My heart is full of joy and pleasure + Since thou art here, mine only treasure. + Now will we dance and sport and play + And sing a merry roundelay. + + +From ROBERT JONES's _Second Book of Airs_, 1601. (Attributed to Sir +Walter Raleigh.) + + Now what is love, I pray thee tell? + It is that fountain and that well + Where pleasures and repentance dwell; + It is perhaps that sancing-bell[11] + That tolls all in to heaven or hell: + And this is love, as I hear tell. + + Now what is love, I pray thee say? + It is a work on holyday, + It is December matched with May, + When lusty bloods in fresh array + Hear ten months after of their play: + And this is love, as I hear say. + + Now what is love, I pray thee feign? + It is a sunshine mixed with rain, + It is a gentle pleasing pain, + A flower that dies and springs again, + It is a No that would full fain: + And this is love as I hear sain. + + Yet what is love, I pray thee say? + It is a pretty shady way + As well found out by night as day, + It is a thing will soon decay; + Then take the vantage whilst you may: + And this is love, as I hear say. + Now what is love, I pray thee show? + A thing that creeps, it cannot go, + A prize that passeth to and fro, + A thing for one, a thing for mo, + And he that proves shall find it so: + And this is love, as I well know. + +[11] Saint's-bell; the little bell that called to prayers. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Now winter nights enlarge + The number of their hours, + And clouds their storms discharge + Upon the airy towers. + Let now the chimneys blaze, + And cups o'erflow with wine; + Let well-tuned words amaze + With harmony divine. + Now yellow waxen lights + Shall wait on honey love, + While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights + Sleep's leaden spells remove. + + This time doth well dispense + With lovers' long discourse; + Much, speech hath some defence + Though beauty no remorse. + All do not all things well; + Some measures comely tread, + Some knotted riddles tell, + Some poems smoothly read. + The summer hath his joys + And winter his delights; + Though love and all his pleasures are but toys, + They shorten tedious nights. + + +From JOHN WARD's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1613. + + O say, dear life, when shall these twin-born berries, + So lovely-ripe, by my rude lips be tasted? + Shall I not pluck (sweet, say not _nay_) those cherries? + O let them not with summer's heat be blasted. + Nature, thou know'st, bestow'd them free on thee; + Then be thou kind--bestow them free on me. + + +From JOHN FARMER's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1599. + + O stay, sweet love; see here the place of sporting; + These gentle flowers smile sweetly to invite us, + And chirping birds are hitherwards resorting, + Warbling sweet notes only to delight us: + Then stay, dear Love, for though thou run from me, + Run ne'er so fast, yet I will follow thee. + + I thought, my love, that I should overtake you; + Sweet heart, sit down under this shadowed tree, + And I will promise never to forsake you, + So you will grant to me a lover's fee. + Whereat she smiled and kindly to me said-- + I never meant to live and die a maid. + + +From THOMAS MORLEY's _Madrigals_, 1594. + + O sweet, alas, what say you? + Ay me, that face discloses + The scarlet blush of sweet vermilion roses. + And yet, alas, I know not + If such a crimson staining + Be for love or disdaining; + But if of love it grow not, + Be it disdain conceivèd + To see us of love's fruits so long bereavèd. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + O sweet delight, O more than human bliss + With her to live that ever loving is! + To hear her speak whose words are so well placed + That she by them, as they by her are graced! + Those looks to view that feast the viewer's eye, + How blest is he that may so live and die! + + Such love as this the Golden Times did know, + When all did reap and none took care to sow; + Such love as this an endless summer makes, + And all distaste from frail affection takes. + So loved, so blest in my beloved am I: + Which till their eyes ache let iron men envy! + + +From ROBERT JONES' _Ultimum Vale or Third Book of Airs_ (1608). + + Oft have I mused the cause to find + Why Love in lady's eyes should dwell; + I thought, because himself was blind, + He look'd that they should guide him well: + And sure his hope but seldom fails, + For Love by ladies' eyes prevails. + + But time at last hath taught me wit, + Although I bought my wit full dear; + For by her eyes my heart is hit, + Deep is the wound though none appear: + Their glancing beams as darts he throws, + And sure he hath no shafts but those. + + I mused to see their eyes so bright, + And little thought they had been fire; + I gazed upon them with delight, + But that delight hath bred desire: + What better place can Love desire + Than that where grow both shafts and fire? + + +From JOHN ATTYE's _First Book of Airs_, 1622. + + On a time the amorous Silvy + Said to her shepherd, 'Sweet, how do you? + Kiss me this once, and then God be wi' you, + My sweetest dear! + Kiss me this once and then God be wi' you, + For now the morning draweth near.' + + With that, her fairest bosom showing, + Opening her lips, rich perfumes blowing, + She said, 'Now kiss me and be going, + My sweetest dear! + Kiss me this once and then be going, + For now the morning draweth near.' + + With that the shepherd waked from sleeping, + And, spying where the day was peeping, + He said, 'Now take my soul in keeping, + My sweetest dear! + Kiss me, and take my soul in keeping, + Since I must go, now day is near.' + + +From ROBERT JONES' _First Book of Songs and Airs_, 1601. + + Once did I love and yet I live, + Though love and truth be now forgotten; + Then did I joy, now do I grieve + That holy vows must now be broken. + + Hers be the blame that caused it so, + Mine be the grief though it be mickle;[12] + She shall have shame, I cause to know + What 'tis to love a dame so fickle. + + Love her that list, I am content + For that chameleon-like she changeth, + Yielding such mists as may prevent + My sight to view her when she rangeth. + + Let him not vaunt that gains my loss, + For when that he and time hath proved her, + She may him bring to Weeping-Cross: + I say no more, because I loved her. + +[12] Old ed., "little" + + +From HENRY YOULL's _Canzonets to Three Voices_, 1608. + + Once I thought to die for love, + Till I found that women prove + Traitors in their smiling: + They say men unconstant be, + But they themselves Jove change, we see, + And all is but beguiling. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals_, 1597 + + Our country-swains in the morris dance + Thus woo and win their brides, + Will for our town the hobby horse + At pleasure frolic rides: + I woo with tears and ne'er the near, + I die in grief and live in fear. + + +From GILES FARNABY's _Canzonets_, 1598. + + Pierce did love fair Petronel + Because she sang and dancèd well + And gallantly could prank it; + He pulled her and he haul'd her + And oftentimes he call'd her + Primrose pearls prick'd in a blanket. + + +From FRANCIS PILKINGTON's _First Set of Madrigals and Pastorals_, 1613. + + Pour forth, mine eyes, the fountains of your tears; + Break, heart, and die, for now no hope appears; + Hope, upon which before my thoughts were fed, + Hath left me quite forlorn and from me fled. + Yet, see, she smiles! O see, some hope appears! + Hold, heart, and live; mine eyes, cease off your tears. + + +From _Airs sung and played at Brougham Castle_, 1618, by GEORGE MASON +and JOHN EARSDEN. + + Robin is a lovely lad, + No lass a smoother ever had; + Tommy hath a look as bright + As is the rosy morning light; + Tib is dark and brown of hue, + But like her colour firm and true; + Jenny hath a lip to kiss + Wherein a spring of nectar is; + Simkin well his mirth can place + And words to win a woman's grace; + Sib is all in all to me, + There is no Queen of Love but she. + + +From THOMAS RAVENSCROFT's _Brief Discourse_, 1614. + + THE SATYRS' DANCE. + + Round-a, round-a, keep your ring: + To the glorious sun we sing,-- + Ho, ho! + He that wears the flaming rays, + And th' imperial crown of bays, + Him with shouts and songs we praise-- + Ho, ho! + That in his bounty he'd vouchsafe to grace + The humble sylvans and their shaggy race. + + +From THOMAS MORLEY's _Canzonets_, 1593. + + See, see, mine own sweet jewel, + What I have for my darling: + A robin-redbreast and a starling. + These I give both in hope to move thee; + Yet thou say'st I do not love thee. + + +From WILLIAM CORKINE's _Airs_, 1610. + + Shall a frown or angry eye, + Shall a word unfitly placèd, + Shall a shadow make me flie + As if I were with tigers chasèd? + Love must not be so disgracèd. + + Shall I woo her in despight? + Shall I turn her from her flying? + Shall I tempt her with delight? + Shall I laugh at her denying? + No: beware of lovers' crying. + + Shall I then with patient mind + Still attend her wayward pleasure? + Time will make her prove more kind, + Let her coyness then take leisure: + She is worthy such a treasure. + + +From RICHARD ALISON's _An Hours Recreation in Music_, 1606. + + Shall I abide this jesting? + I weep, and she's a-feasting! + O cruel fancy, that so doth blind me + To love one that doth not mind me! + + Can I abide this prancing? + I weep, and she's a-dancing! + O cruel fancy, so to betray me! + Thou goest about to slay me. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Shall I come, sweet Love, to thee + When the evening beams are set? + Shall I not excluded be, + Will you find no feignèd let? + Let me not, for pity, more + Tell the long hours at your door. + + Who can tell what thief or foe, + In the covert of the night, + For his prey will work my woe, + Or through wicked foul despite? + So may I die unredrest + Ere my long love be possest. + + But to let such dangers pass, + Which a lover's thoughts disdain, + 'Tis enough in such a place + To attend love's joys in vain: + Do not mock me in thy bed, + While these cold nights freeze me dead. + + +From ROBERT JONES' _Ultimum Vale or Third Book of Airs_ (1608). + + Shall I look to ease my grief? + No, my sight is lost with eying: + Shall I speak and beg relief? + No, my voice is hoarse with crying: + What remains but only dying? + + Love and I of late did part, + But the boy, my peace envying, + Like a Parthian threw his dart + Backward, and did wound me flying: + What remains but only dying? + + She whom then I lookèd on, + My remembrance beautifying, + Stays with me though I am gone, + Gone and at her mercy lying: + What remains but only dying? + + Shall I try her thoughts and write? + No I have no means of trying: + If I should, yet at first sight + She would answer with denying: + What remains but only dying? + + Thus my vital breath doth waste, + And, my blood with sorrow drying, + Sighs and tears make life to last + For a while, their place supplying: + What remains but only dying? + + +From ROBERT JONES' _First Book of Airs_, 1601. + + She whose matchless beauty staineth + What best judgment fair'st maintaineth, + She, O she, my love disdaineth. + + Can a creature, so excelling, + Harbour scorn in beauty's dwelling, + All kind pity thence expelling? + + Pity beauty much commendeth + And th' embracer oft befriendeth + When all eye-contentment endeth. + + Time proves beauty transitory; + Scorn, the stain of beauty's glory, + In time makes the scorner sorry. + + None adores the sun declining; + Love all love falls to resigning + When the sun of love leaves shining. + + So, when flower of beauty fails thee, + And age, stealing on, assails thee, + Then mark what this scorn avails thee. + + Then those hearts, which now complaining + Feel the wounds of thy disdaining, + Shall contemn thy beauty waning. + + Yea, thine own heart, now dear-prizèd, + Shall with spite and grief surprisèd + Burst to find itself despisèd. + + When like harms have them requited + Who in others' harms delighted, + Pleasingly the wrong'd are righted. + + Such revenge my wrongs attending, + Hope still lives on time depending, + By thy plagues thy torrents ending. + + +From THOMAS MORLEY's _First Book of Ballets to Five Voices_, 1595. + + Shoot, false Love! I care not; + Spend thy shafts and spare not! + Fa la la! + I fear not, I, thy might, + And less I weigh thy spite; + All naked I unarm me,-- + If thou canst, now shoot and harm me! + So lightly I esteem thee + As now a child I dream thee. + Fa la la la! + + Long thy bow did fear[13] me, + While thy pomp did blear me; + Fa la la! + But now I do perceive + Thy art is to deceive; + And every simple lover + All thy falsehood can discover. + Then weep, Love! and be sorry, + For thou hast lost thy glory. + Fa la la la! + +[13] Frighten. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_, (circ. 1613). + + Silly boy! 'tis full moon yet, thy night as day shines clearly; + Had thy youth but wit to fear, thou couldst not love so dearly. + Shortly wilt thou mourn when all thy pleasures be bereavèd, + Little knows he how to love that never was deceivèd. + + This is thy first maiden-flame that triumphs yet unstainèd, + All is artless now you speak, not one word is feignèd; + All is heaven that you behold, and all your thoughts are blessèd, + But no spring can want his fall, each Troilus hath his Cressid. + + Thy well-ordered locks ere long shall rudely hang neglected, + And thy lively pleasant cheer read grief on earth dejected; + Much then wilt thou blame thy Saint, that made thy heart so holy + And with sighs confess, in love that too much faith is folly. + + Yet be just and constant still, Love may beget a wonder, + Not unlike a summer's frost or winter's fatal thunder: + He that holds his sweetheart true unto his day of dying, + Lives, of all that ever breathed, most worthy the envying. + + +From GILES FARNABY's _Canzonets_, 1598. + + Simkin said that Sis was fair, + And that he meant to love her; + He set her on his ambling mare,-- + All this he did to prove her. + + When they came home Sis floted cream + And poured it through a strainer, + But sware that Simkin should have none + Because he did disdain her. + + +From THOMAS FORD's _Music Of Sundry Kinds_, 1607. + + Since first I saw your face I resolved to honour and renown ye, + If now I be disdained I wish my heart had never known ye. + What? I that loved and you that liked shall we begin to wrangle? + No, no no, my heart is fast, and cannot disentangle. + + If I admire or praise you too much, that fault you may forgive me + Or if my hands had strayed but a touch, then justly might you leave me. + I asked you leave, you bade me love; is't now a time to chide me? + No no no, I'll love you still what fortune e'er betide me. + + The sun whose beams most glorious are, rejecteth no beholder, + And your sweet beauty past compare made my poor eyes the bolder, + Where beauty moves, and wit delights and signs of kindness bind me + There, O there! where'er I go I'll leave my heart behind me. + + +From THOMAS MORLEY's _First Book of Ballets_, 1595. + + Sing we and chant it + While love doth grant it. + Fa la la! + + Not long youth lasteth, + And old age hasteth. + Fa la la! + + Now is best leisure + To take our pleasure. + Fa la la! + + All things invite us + Now to delight us. + Fa la la! + + Hence care be packing, + No mirth be lacking. + Fa la la! + + Let spare no treasure + To live in pleasure. + Fa la la! + + +From THOMAS BATESON's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1604. + + Sister, awake! close not your eyes! + The day her light discloses, + And the bright morning doth arise + Out of her bed of roses. + + See, the clear sun, the world's bright eye, + In at our window peeping: + Lo! how he blusheth to espy + Us idle wenches sleeping. + + Therefore, awake! make haste, I say, + And let us, without staying, + All in our gowns of green so gay + Into the park a-maying. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Sleep, angry beauty, sleep and fear not me! + For who a sleeping lion dares provoke? + It shall suffice me here to sit and see + Those lips shut up that never kindly spoke: + What sight can more content a lover's mind + Than beauty seeming harmless, if not kind? + + My words have charmed her, for secure she sleeps, + Though guilty much of wrong done to my love; + And in her slumber, see! she close-eyed weeps: + Dreams often more than waking passions move. + Plead, Sleep, my cause, and make her soft like thee: + That she in peace may wake and pity me. + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _Second Set of Madrigals_, 1609. + + So light is love, in matchless beauty shining, + When he revisits Cypris' hallowed bowers, + Two feeble doves, harness'd in silken twining, + Can draw his chariot midst the Paphian flowers, + Lightness in love! how ill it fitteth! + So heavy on my heart he sitteth. + + +From WILLIAM CORKINE's _Airs_, 1610. + + Some can flatter, some can feign, + Simple truth shall plead for me; + Let not beauty truth disdain, + Truth is even as fair as she. + + But since pairs must equal prove, + Let my strength her youth oppose, + Love her beauty, faith her love; + On even terms so may we close. + + Cork or lead in equal weight + Both one just proportion yield, + So may breadth be peis'd[14] with height, + Steepest mount with plainest field. + + Virtues have not all one kind, + Yet all virtues merit be, + Divers virtues are combined; + Differing so, deserts agree. + + Let then love and beauty meet, + Making one divine concent + Constant as the sounds and sweet, + That enchant the firmament. + +[14] Balanced. + + +From CAMPION and ROSSETER's _Book of Airs_, 1601. + + Sweet, come again! + Your happy sight, so much desired + Since you from hence are now retired, + I seek in vain: + Still I must mourn, + And pine in longing pain, + Till you, my life's delight, again + Vouchsafe your wish'd return. + + If true desire, + Or faithful vow of endless love, + Thy heart inflamed may kindly move + With equal fire; + O then my joys, + So long distraught, shall rest, + Reposèd soft in thy chaste breast, + Exempt from all annoys. + + You had the power + My wand'ring thoughts first to restrain, + You first did hear my love speak plain; + A child before, + Now it is grown + Confirmed, do you it[15] keep! + And let 't safe in your bosom sleep, + There ever made your own! + + And till we meet, + Teach absence inward art to find, + Both to disturb and please the mind! + Such thoughts are sweet: + And such remain + In hearts whose flames are true; + Then such will I retain, till you + To me return again. + +[15] Old ed. "do you keep it." + + +From WILLIAM CORKINE's _Airs_, 1610. + + Sweet Cupid, ripen her desire, + Thy joyful harvest may begin; + If age approach a little nigher, + 'Twill be too late to get it in. + + Cold Winter storms lay standing Corn, + Which once too ripe will never rise, + And lovers wish themselves unborn, + When all their joys lie in their eyes. + + Then, sweet, let us embrace and kiss: + Shall beauty shale[16] upon the ground? + If age bereave us of this bliss, + Then will no more such sport be found. + +[16] Shell, husk (as peas). + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals_, 1598. + + Sweet heart, arise! why do you sleep + When lovers wanton sports do keep? + The sun doth shine, the birds do sing, + And May delight and joy doth bring: + Then join we hands and dance till night, + 'Tis pity love should want his right. + + +From ROBERT JONES' _Musical Dream_, 1609. + + Sweet Kate + Of late + Ran away and left me plaining. + Abide! + (I cried) + Or I die with thy disdaining. + Te hee, quoth she; + Make no fool of me; + Men, I know, have oaths at pleasure, + But, their hopes attainèd, + They bewray they feignèd, + And their oaths are kept at leisure. + + Unkind, + I find + Thy delight is in tormenting: + Abide! + (I cried) + Or I die with thy consenting. + Te hee, quoth she, + Make no fool of me; + Men, I know, have oaths at pleasure, + But, their hopes attainèd, + They bewray they feignèd, + And their oaths are kept at leisure. + + Her words, + Like swords, + Cut my sorry heart in sunder, + Her flouts + With doubts + Kept my heart-affections under. + Te hee, quoth she, + What a fool is he + Stands in awe of once denying! + Cause I had enough + To become more rough, + So I did--O happy trying! + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _Madrigals_, 1598. + + Sweet Love, if thou wilt gain a monarch's glory, + Subdue her heart who makes me glad and sorry; + Out of thy golden quiver, + Take thou thy strongest arrow + That will through bone and marrow, + And me and thee of grief and fear deliver: + But come behind, for, if she look upon thee, + Alas! poor Love, then thou art woe-begone thee. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals_, 1598. + + Sweet Love, I will no more abuse thee, + Nor with my voice accuse thee; + But tune my notes unto thy praise + And tell the world Love ne'er decays. + Sweet Love doth concord ever cherish: + What wanteth concord soon must perish. + + +From ROBERT JONES' _Ultimum Vale, or Third Book of Airs_ (1608). + + Sweet Love, my only treasure, + For service long unfeignèd + Wherein I nought have gainèd, + Vouchsafe this little pleasure, + To tell me in what part + My Lady keeps her heart. + + If in her hair so slender, + Like golden nets entwinèd + Which fire and art have finèd, + Her thrall my heart I render + For ever to abide + With locks so dainty tied. + + If in her eyes she bind it, + Wherein that fire was framèd + By which it is inflamèd, + I dare not look to find it: + I only wish it sight + To see that pleasant light. + + But if her breast have deignèd + With kindness to receive it, + I am content to leave it + Though death thereby were gainèd: + Then, Lady, take your own + That lives by you alone. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _Pilgrim's Solace_, 1612. (The first stanza is found +in a poem of Donne.) + + Sweet, stay awhile; why will you rise? + The light you see comes from your eyes; + The day breaks not, it is my heart, + To think that you and I must part. + O stay! or else my joys must die + And perish in their infancy. + + Dear, let me die in this fair breast, + Far sweeter than the ph[oe]nix nest. + Love raise Desire by his sweet charms + Within this circle of thine arms! + And let thy blissful kisses cherish + Mine infant joys that else must perish. + + +From THOMAS VAUTOR's _Songs of divers Airs and Natures_, 1619. + + _Tuwhoo, tuwhit, tuwhit, tuwhoo-o-o._ + + Sweet Suffolk owl, so trimly dight + With feathers like a lady bright, + Thou sing'st alone, sitting by night, + Te whit, te whoo! + Thy note, that forth so freely rolls, + With shrill command the mouse controls, + And sings a dirge for dying souls, + Te whit, te whoo! + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals of Five and Six Parts_, 1600. + + Take here my heart, I give it thee for ever! + No better pledge can love to love deliver. + Fear not, my dear, it will not fly away, + For hope and love command my heart to stay. + But if thou doubt, desire will make it range: + Love but my heart, my heart will never change. + + +From FARMER's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1599. + + Take time while time doth last, + Mark how fair fadeth fast; + Beware if envy reign, + Take heed of proud disdain; + Hold fast now in thy youth, + Regard thy vowèd truth, + Lest, when thou waxeth old, + Friends fail and love grow cold. + + +From _Deuteromelia_, 1609. + + The Fly she sat in shamble-row + And shambled with her heels I trow; + + And then came in Sir Cranion + With legs so long and many a one; + + And said "Jove speed, dame Fly, dame Fly": + "Marry, you be welcome, Sir," quoth she: + + "The master Humble Bee hath sent me to thee + To wit and if you will his true love be." + + But she said "Nay, that may not be, + For I must have the Butterfly, + + For and a greater lord there may not be." + But at the last consent did she. + + And there was bid to this wedding + All Flies in the field and Worms creeping. + + The Snail she came crawling all over the plain, + With all her jolly trinkets in her train. + + Ten Bees there came, all clad in gold, + And all the rest did them behold; + + But the Thornbud refused this sight to see, + And to a cow-plat away flies she. + + But where now shall this wedding be?-- + For and hey-nonny-no in an old ivy-tree. + + And where now shall we bake our bread?-- + For and hey-nonny-no in an old horse-head. + + And where now shall we brew our ale?-- + But even within one walnut-shale. + + And also where shall we our dinner make?-- + But even upon a galled horse-back: + + For there we shall have good company + With humbling and bumbling and much melody. + + When ended was this wedding-day, + The Bee he took his Fly away, + + And laid her down upon the marsh + Between one marigold and the long grass. + + And there they begot good master gnat + And made him the heir of all,--that's flat. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Airs or Fantastic Spirits_, 1608. + + _Audivere, Lyce_.--HORACE. + + The gods have heard my vows, + Fond Lyce, whose fair brows + Wont scorn with such disdain + My love, my tears, my pain. + Fa la! + + But now those spring-tide roses + Are turn'd to winter-posies, + To rue and thyme and sage, + Fitting thy shrivell'd age. + Fa la! + + Now, youths, with hot desire + See, see, that flameless fire, + Which erst your hearts so burned, + Quick into ashes turned. + Fa la! + + +From _Pammelia_, 1609 + + _The household-bird with the red stomacher._--DONNE. + + The lark, linnet and nightingale to sing some say are best; + Yet merrily sings little Robin, pretty Robin with the red breast. + + +From RICHARD CARLTON's _Madrigals_, 1601. + + The love of change hath changed the world throughout, + And what is counted good but that is strange? + New things wax old, old new, all turns about, + And all things change except the love of change. + Yet find I not that love of change in me, + But as I am so will I always be. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _Third and last Book of Songs and Airs_, 1603. + + The lowest trees have tops, the ant her gall, + The fly her spleen, the little spark his heat; + And slender hairs cast shadows, though but small, + And bees have stings, although they be not great; + Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs; + And love is love, in beggars and in kings! + + Where waters smoothest run, deep are the fords; + The dial stirs, yet none perceives it move; + The firmest faith is in the fewest words; + The turtles cannot sing, and yet they love; + True hearts have eyes and ears, no tongues to speak; + They hear, and see, and sigh, and then they break! + + +From CAMPION and ROSSETER's _Book of Airs_, 1601. + + The man of life upright, + Whose guiltless heart is free + From all dishonest deeds, + Or thought of vanity; + + The man whose silent days + In harmless joys are spent, + Whom hopes cannot delude + Nor sorrow discontent: + + That man needs neither towers + Nor armour for defence, + Nor secret vaults to fly + From thunder's violence: + + He only can behold + With unaffrighted eyes + The horrors of the deep + And terrors of the skies. + + Thus scorning all the cares + That fate or fortune brings, + He makes the heaven his book, + His wisdom heavenly things; + + Good thoughts his only friends, + His wealth a well-spent age, + The earth his sober inn + And quiet pilgrimage. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589. + + The greedy hawk with sudden sight of lure + Doth stoop in hope to have her wishèd prey; + So many men do stoop to sights unsure, + And courteous speech doth keep them at the bay: + Let them beware lest friendly looks be like + The lure whereat the soaring hawk did strike. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Sonnets and Songs_, 1588. + + The match that's made for just and true respects, + With evenness both of years and parentage, + Of force must bring forth many good effects. + Pari jugo dulcis tractus. + + For where chaste love and liking sets the plant, + And concord waters with a firm good-will, + Of no good thing there can be any want. + Pari jugo dulcis tractus. + + Sound is the knot that Chastity hath tied, + Sweet is the music Unity doth make, + Sure is the store that Plenty doth provide. + Pari jugo dulcis tractus. + + Where Chasteness fails there Concord will decay, + Where Concord fleets there Plenty will decease, + Where Plenty wants there Love will wear away. + Pari jugo dulcis tractus. + + I, Chastity, restrain all strange desires; + I, Concord, keep the course of sound consent; + I, Plenty, spare and spend as cause requires. + Pari jugo dulcis tractus. + + Make much of us, all ye that married be; + Speak well of us, all ye that mind to be; + The time may come to want and wish all three. + Pari jugo dulcis tractus. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589. + + The Nightingale so pleasant and so gay + In greenwood groves delights to make his dwelling, + In fields to fly, chanting his roundelay, + At liberty, against the cage rebelling; + But my poor heart with sorrows over swelling, + Through bondage vile, binding my freedom short, + No pleasure takes in these his sports excelling, + Nor in his song receiveth no comfort. + + +From THOMAS BATESON's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1604. (By Sir +Philip Sidney.) + + The Nightingale, so soon as April bringeth + Unto her rested sense a perfect waking, + White late-bare earth proud of her clothing springeth, + Sings out her woes, a thorn her songbook making; + And mournfully bewailing, + Her throat in tunes expresseth: + While grief her heart oppresseth, + For Tereus' force o'er her chaste will prevailing. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Second Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + The peaceful western wind + The winter storms hath tamed, + And Nature in each kind + The kind heat hath inflamed: + The forward buds so sweetly breathe + Out of their earthly bowers, + That heaven, which views their pomp beneath, + Would fain be decked with flowers. + + See how the morning smiles + On her bright eastern hill, + And with soft steps beguiles + Them that lie slumbering still! + The music-loving birds are come + From cliffs and rocks unknown, + To see the trees and briars bloom + That late were overthrown.[17] + + What Saturn did destroy, + Love's Queen revives again; + And now her naked boy + Doth in the fields remain, + Where he such pleasing change doth view + In every living thing, + As if the world were born anew + To gratify the spring. + + If all things life present, + Why die my comforts then? + Why suffers my content? + Am I the worst of men? + O, Beauty, be not thou accused + Too justly in this case! + Unkindly if true love be used, + 'Twill yield thee little grace. + +[17] Old ed. "overflown." + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Fourth Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + There is a garden in her face + Where roses and white lilies grow; + A heavenly paradise is that place + Wherein all pleasant fruits doth flow. + There cherries grow which none may buy, + Till "Cherry ripe" themselves do cry. + + Those cherries fairly do enclose + Of orient pearl a double row, + Which when her lovely laughter shows, + They look like rose-buds filled with snow; + Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy, + Till "Cherry ripe" themselves do cry. + + Her eyes like angels watch them still, + Her brows like bended bows do stand, + Threatening with piercing frowns to kill + All that attempt with eye or hand + Those sacred cherries to come nigh + Till "Cherry ripe" themselves do cry. + + +From THOMAS FORD's _Music of Sundry Kinds_, 1607. + + There is a Lady sweet and kind, + Was never face so pleased my mind; + I did but see her passing by, + And yet I love her till I die. + + Her gesture, motion and her smiles + Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles, + Beguiles my heart, I know not why, + And yet I love her till I die. + + Her free behaviour, winning looks + Will make a Lawyer burn his books; + I touched her not, alas! not I, + And yet I love her till I die. + + Had I her fast betwixt mine arms, + Judge you that think such sports were harms; + Were't any harm? no, no, fie, fie, + For I will love her till I die. + + Should I remain confinèd there + So long as Ph[oe]bus in his sphere, + I to request, she to deny, + Yet would I love her till I die. + + Cupid is wingèd and doth range, + Her country so my love doth change: + But change she earth, or change she sky, + Yet will I love her till I die. + + +From _Melismata_, 1611. + + There were three Ravens sat on a tree,-- + Down-a-down, hey down, hey down! + There were three Ravens sat on a tree,-- + With a down! + + There were three Ravens sat on a tree,-- + They were as black as they might be: + With a down, derry derry derry down down! + + The one of them said to his make[18]-- + Where shall we our breakfast take? + + Down in yonder greenè field + There lies a knight slain under his shield. + + His hounds they lie down at his feet: + So well they their master keep. + + His hawks they fly so eagerly, + There's no fowl dare him come nigh. + + Down there comes a fallow doe, + Great with young as she might go. + + She lift up his bloody head, + And kist his wounds that were so red. + + She gat him upon her back + And carried him to earthen lake. + + She buried him before the prime; + She was dead ere even-time. + + God send every gentleman + Such hounds, such hawks, and such a leman! + With a down, derry. + +[18] Old ed. "mate"; but "make," which is required for the rhyme, was a +recognised form of "mate." + + +From ROBERT JONES' _Ultimum Vale or Third Book of Airs_ (1608). + + Think'st thou, Kate, to put me down + With a 'No' or with a frown? + Since Love holds my heart in bands + I must do as Love commands. + + Love commands the hands to dare + When the tongue of speech is spare, + Chiefest lesson in Love's school,-- + Put it in adventure, fool! + + Fools are they that fainting flinch + For a squeak, a scratch, a pinch: + Women's words have double sense: + 'Stand away!'--a simple fence. + + If thy mistress swear she'll cry, + Fear her not, she'll swear and lie: + Such sweet oaths no sorrow bring + Till the prick of conscience sting. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Fourth Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Think'st thou to seduce me then with words that have no meaning? + Parrots so can learn to prate, our speech by pieces gleaning: + Nurses teach their children so about the time of weaning. + + Learn to speak first, then to woo, to wooing much pertaineth: + He that courts us, wanting art, soon falters when he feigneth, + Looks asquint on his discourse and smiles when he complaineth. + + Skilful anglers hide their hooks, fit baits for every season; + But with crooked pins fish thou, as babes do that want reason: + Gudgeons only can be caught with such poor tricks of treason. + + Ruth forgive me (if I erred) from human heart's compassion, + When I laughed sometimes too much to see thy foolish fashion: + But, alas, who less could do that found so good occasion! + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _Madrigals_, 1598. + + Thou art but young, thou say'st, + And love's delight thou weigh'st not: + O, take time while thou may'st, + Lest when thou would'st thou may'st not. + + If love shall then assail thee, + A double anguish will torment thee; + And thou wilt wish (but wishes all will fail thee,) + "O me! that I were young again!" and so repent thee. + + +From CAMPION and ROSSETER's _Book of Airs_, 1601. (Ascribed to Dr. +Donne.) + + Thou art not fair, for all thy red and white, + For all those rosy ornaments in thee; + Thou art not sweet, tho' made of mere delight, + Nor fair, nor sweet--unless thou pity me. + I will not soothe thy fancies, thou shalt prove + That beauty is no beauty without love. + + Yet love not me, nor seek not to allure + My thoughts with beauty were it more divine; + Thy smiles and kisses I cannot endure, + I'll not be wrapped up in those arms of thine: + Now show it, if thou be a woman right,-- + Embrace and kiss and love me in despite. + + +From JOHN DANYEL's _Songs for the Lute, Viol, and Voice_, 1606. + + Thou pretty Bird, how do I see + Thy silly state and mine agree! + For thou a prisoner art; + So is my heart. + Thou sing'st to her, and so do I address + My Music to her ear that's merciless; + But herein doth the difference lie,-- + That thou art grac'd, so am not I; + Thou singing liv'st, and I must singing die. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs of Sadness and Piety_, +1588. + + Though Amaryllis dance in green + Like Fairy Queen, + And sing full clear; + Corinna can, with smiling cheer. + Yet since their eyes make heart so sore, + Hey ho! chil love no more. + + My sheep are lost for want of food + And I so wood[19] + That all the day + I sit and watch a herd-maid gay; + Who laughs to see me sigh so sore, + Hey ho! chil love no more. + + Her loving looks, her beauty bright, + Is such delight! + That all in vain + I love to like, and lose my gain + For her, that thanks me not therefore. + Hey ho! chil love no more. + + Ah wanton eyes! my friendly foes + And cause of woes; + Your sweet desire + Breeds flames of ice, and freeze in fire! + Ye scorn to see me weep so sore! + Hey ho! chil love no more. + + Love ye who list, I force him not: + Since God is wot, + The more I wail, + The less my sighs and tears prevail. + What shall I do? but say therefore, + Hey ho! chil love no more. + +[19] Distracted. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Airs or Fantastic Spirits_, 1608. + + Though my carriage be but careless, + Though my looks be of the sternest, + Yet my passions are compareless; + When I love, I love in earnest. + + No; my wits are not so wild, + But a gentle soul may yoke me; + Nor my heart so hard compiled, + But it melts, if love provoke me. + + +From ROBERT JONES' _Musical Dream_, 1609. (This song is also printed in +Thomas Campion's _Two Books of Airs_, circ. 1613.) + + Though your strangeness frets my heart, + Yet must I not complain; + You persuade me 'tis but art + Which secret love must feign; + If another you affect, + 'Tis but a toy, t' avoid suspect. + Is this fair excusing? + O no, all is abusing. + + When your wish'd sight I desire, + Suspicion you pretend, + Causeless you yourself retire + Whilst I in vain attend, + Thus a lover, as you say, + Still made more eager by delay. + Is this fair excusing? + O no, all is abusing. + + When another holds your hand + You'll swear I hold your heart; + Whilst my rival close doth stand + And I sit far apart, + I am nearer yet than they, + Hid in your bosom, as you say. + Is this fair excusing? + O no, all is abusing. + + Would a rival then I were + Or[20] else a secret friend, + So much lesser should I fear + And not so much attend. + They enjoy you, every one, + Yet must I seem your friend alone. + Is this fair excusing? + O no, all is abusing. + +[20] Old ed. "Some." + + +From GILES FARNABY's _Canzonets_, 1598. + + Thrice blessèd be the giver + That gave sweet love that golden quiver, + And live he long among the gods anointed + That made the arrow-heads sharp-pointed: + If either of them both had quailèd, + She of my love and I of hers had failèd. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air, + Thrice sit thou mute in the enchanted chair, + Then thrice-three times tie up this true love's knot, + And murmur soft "She will or she will not." + + Go, burn these poisonous weeds in yon blue fire, + These screech-owl's feathers and this prickling briar, + This cypress gathered at a dead man's grave, + That all my fears and cares an end may have. + + Then come, you Fairies! dance with me a round! + Melt her hard heart with your melodious sound! + --In vain are all the charms I can devise: + She hath an art to break them with her eyes. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Thus I resolve and Time hath taught me so: + Since she is fair and ever kind to me, + Though she be wild and wanton-like in show, + Those little stains in youth I will not see. + That she be constant, heaven I oft implore; + If prayers prevail not, I can do no more. + + Palm-tree the more you press, the more it grows; + Leave it alone, it will not much exceed: + Free beauty, if you strive to yoke, you lose, + And for affection strange distaste you breed. + What nature hath not taught no art can frame; + Wild-born be wild still, though by force you tame. + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _Madrigals_, 1598. + + Thus saith my Chloris bright + When we of love sit down and talk together:-- + "Beware of Love, dear; Love is a walking sprite, + And Love is this and that + And, O, I know not what, + And comes and goes again I wot not whether."[21] + No, no, these are but bugs to breed amazing, + For in her eyes I saw his torch-light blazing. + +[21] Old form of "whither." + + +From THOMAS MORLEY's _First Book of Ballets to Five Voices_, 1595. + + Thus saith my Galatea: + Love long hath been deluded, + When shall it be concluded? + + The young nymphs all are wedded: + Ah, then why do I tarry? + Oh, let me die or marry. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Fourth Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + To his sweet lute Apollo sang the motions of the spheres, + The wondrous orders of the stars whose course divides the years, + And all the mysteries above; + But none of this could Midas move: + Which purchased him his ass's ears. + + Then Pan with his rude pipe began the country wealth t' advance, + To boast of cattle, flocks of sheep, and goats on hills that dance, + With much more of this churlish kind, + That quite transported Midas' mind, + And held him wrapt in trance. + + This wrong the God of Music scorned from such a sottish judge, + And bent his angry bow at Pan, which made the piper trudge: + Then Midas' head he so did trim + That every age yet talks of him + And Ph[oe]bus' right revengèd grudge. + + +From ROBERT DOWLAND's _Musical Banquet_, 1610. (The lines are assigned +to Robert Deveureux, Earl of Essex.) + + To plead my faith, where faith hath no reward, + To move remorse where favour is not borne, + To heap complaints where she doth not regard, + Were fruitless, bootless, vain, and yield but scorn. + + I lovèd her whom all the world admired, + I was refused of her that can love none, + And my vain hopes which far too high aspired + Is dead and buried and for ever gone. + + Forget my name since you have scorned my love, + And woman-like do not too late lament: + Since for your sake I do all mischief prove, + I none accuse nor nothing do repent: + I was as fond as ever she was fair, + Yet loved I not more than I now despair. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals_, 1598. + + To shorten winter's sadness + See where the nymphs with gladness + Fa la la! + + Disguisèd all are coming, + Right wantonly a-mumming. + Fa la la! + + Though masks encloud their beauty, + Yet give the eye her duty. + Fa la la! + + When Heaven is dark it shineth + And unto love inclineth. + Fa la la! + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _Second Book of Songs and Airs_, 1600. + + Toss not my soul, O Love, 'twixt hope and fear! + Show me some ground where I may firmly stand, + Or surely fall! I care not which appear, + So one will close me in a certain band. + When once of ill the uttermost is known; + The strength of sorrow quite is overthrown! + + Take me, Assurance, to thy blissful hold! + Or thou Despair, unto thy darkest cell! + Each hath full rest: the one, in joys enroll'd; + Th' other, in that he fears no more, is well. + When once the uttermost of ill is known, + The strength of sorrow quite is overthrown. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Fourth Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Turn all thy thoughts to eyes, + Turn all thy hairs to ears, + Change all thy friends to spies + And all thy joys to fears; + True love will yet be free + In spite of jealousy. + + Turn darkness into day, + Conjectures into truth, + Believe what th' envious say, + Let age interpret youth: + True love will yet be free + In spite of jealousy. + + Wrest every word and look, + Rack every hidden thought; + Or fish with golden hook, + True love cannot be caught: + For that will still be free + In spite of jealousy. + + +From THOMAS FORD's _Music of Sundry Kinds_, 1607. + + Unto the temple of thy beauty, + And to the tomb where pity lies, + I, pilgrim-clad with zeal and duty, + Do offer up my heart, mine eyes. + My heart, lo! in the quenchless fire, + On love's burning altar lies, + Conducted thither by desire + To be beauty's sacrifice. + + But pity on thy sable hearse, + Mine eyes the tears of sorrow shed; + What though tears cannot fate reverse, + Yet are they duties to the dead. + O, Mistress, in thy sanctuary + Why wouldst thou suffer cold disdain + To use his frozen cruelty, + And gentle pity to be slain? + + Pity that to thy beauty fled, + And with thy beauty should have lived, + Ah, in thy heart lies burièd, + And nevermore may be revived; + Yet this last favour, dear, extend, + To accept these vows, these tears I shed, + Duties which I thy pilgrim send, + To beauty living, pity dead. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Airs or Fantastic Spirits_, 1608. + + Upon a hill the bonny boy + Sweet Thyrsis sweetly played, + And called his lambs their master's joy, + And more he would have said; + But love that gives the lover wings + Withdrew his mind from other things. + + His pipe and he could not agree, + For Milla was his note; + The silly pipe could never get + This lovely name by rote: + With that they both fell in a sound,[22] + He fell a-sleep, his pipe to ground. + +[22] Swoon. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589. + + Upon a summer's day Love went to swim, + And cast himself into a sea of tears; + The clouds called in their light, and heaven waxed dim, + And sighs did raise a tempest, causing fears; + The naked boy could not so wield his arms, + But that the waves were masters of his might, + And threatened him to work far greater harms + If he devisèd not to scape by flight: + Then for a boat his quiver stood instead, + His bow unbent did serve him for a mast, + Whereby to sail his cloth of veil he spread, + His shafts for oars on either board he cast: + From shipwreck safe this wag got thus to shore, + And sware to bathe in lovers' tears no more. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Second Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Vain men! whose follies make a god of love; + Whose blindness, beauty doth immortal deem, + Praise not what you desire, but what you prove; + Count those things good that are, not those that seem. + I cannot call her true, that's false to me; + Nor make of women, more than women be. + + How fair an entrance breaks the way to love! + How rich the golden hope, and gay delight! + What heart cannot a modest beauty move? + Who seeing clear day once will dream of night? + She seemed a saint, that brake her faith with me; + But proved a woman, as all other be. + + So bitter is their sweet that True Content + Unhappy men _in_ them may never find: + Ah! but _without_ them, none. Both must consent, + Else uncouth are the joys of either kind. + Let us then praise their good, forget their ill! + Men must be men, and women women still. + + +From FRANCIS PILKINGTON's _Second Set of Madrigals_, 1624. + + Wake, sleepy Thyrsis, wake + For Love and Venus' sake! + Come, let us mount the hills + Which Zephyrus with cool breath fills; + Or let us tread new alleys, + In yonder shady valleys. + Rise, rise, rise, rise! + Lighten thy heavy eyes: + See how the streams do glide + And the green meads divide: + But stream nor fire shall part + This and this joinèd heart. + + +From _Deuteromelia_, 1609. + + We be soldiers three, + _Pardona moy je vous an pree_, + Lately come forth of the Low Country + With never a penny of money. + Fa la la la lantido dilly. + + Here, good fellow, I drink to thee, + _Pardona moy je vous an pree_, + To all good fellows wherever they be, + With never a penny of money. + + And he that will not pledge me this, + _Pardona moy je vous an pree_, + Pays for the shot whatever it is, + With never a penny of money. + + Charge it again, boy, charge it again, + _Pardona moy je vous an pree_, + As long as there is any ink in thy pen, + With never a penny of money. + + +From _Deuteromelia_, 1609. + + We be three poor mariners, + Newly come from the seas; + We spend our lives in jeopardy + While others live at ease. + Shall we go dance the round, the round, + Shall we go dance the round? + And he that is a bully boy + Come pledge me on this ground! + + We care not for those martial men + That do our states disdain; + But we care for the merchant men + Who do our states maintain: + To them we dance this round, around, + To them we dance this round; + And he that is a bully boy + Come pledge me on this ground! + + +From _Egerton MS., 2013_. + + We must not part as others do, + With sighs and tears, as we were two: + Though with these outward forms we part, + We keep each other in our heart. + What search hath found a being, where + I am not, if that thou be there? + + True love hath wings, and can as soon + Survey the world as sun and moon, + And everywhere our triumphs keep + O'er absence which makes others weep: + By which alone a power is given + To live on earth, as they in heaven. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals to Five Voices_, 1598. + + We shepherds sing, we pipe, we play, + With pretty sport we pass the day: + Fa la! + We care for no gold, + But with our fold + We dance + And prance + As pleasure would. + Fa la! + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Songs, and Sonnets_, 1611. + + Wedded to will is witless, + And seldom he is skilful + That bears the name of wise and yet is wilful. + To govern he is fitless + That deals not by election, + But by his fond affection. + O that it might be treason + For men to rule by will and not by reason. + + +From THOMAS TOMKINS' _Songs of Three, Four, Five, and Six Parts_, 1622. + + Weep no more, thou sorry boy; + Love's pleased and anger'd with a toy. + Love a thousand passion brings, + Laughs and weeps, and sighs and sings. + If _she_ smiles, he dancing goes, + And thinks not on his future woes: + If _she_ chide with angry eye, + Sits down, and sighs "Ah me, I die!" + Yet again, as soon revived, + Joys as much as late he grieved. + Change there is of joy and sadness, + Sorrow much, but more of gladness. + Then weep no more, thou sorry boy, + Turn thy tears to weeping joy. + Sigh no more "Ah me! I die!" + But dance, and sing, and ti-hy cry. + + +From JOHN ROWLAND's _Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs_, 1603. + + Weep you no more, sad fountains; + What need you flow so fast? + Look how the snowy mountains + Heaven's sun doth gently waste! + But my sun's heavenly eyes, + View not your weeping, + That now lies sleeping + Softly, now softly lies + Sleeping. + + Sleep is a reconciling, + A rest that peace begets; + Doth not the sun rise smiling + When fair at ev'n he sets? + Rest you then, rest, sad eyes! + Melt not in weeping, + While she lies sleeping, + Softly, now softly lies + Sleeping. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals to Five Voices_, 1598. + + Welcome, sweet pleasure, + My wealth and treasure; + To haste our playing + There's no delaying, + No no! + This mirth delights me + When sorrow frights me. + Then sing we all + Fa la la la la! + + Sorrow, content thee, + Mirth must prevent thee: + Though much thou grievest + Thou none relievest. + No no! + Joy, come delight me, + Though sorrow spite me. + Then sing we all + Fa la la la la! + + Grief is disdainful, + Sottish and painful: + Then wait on pleasure, + And lose no leisure. + No no! + Heart's ease it lendeth + And comfort sendeth. + Then sing we all + Fa la la la la! + + +From JOHN MUNDY's _Songs and Psalms_, 1594. + + Were I a king, I might command content; + Were I obscure, unknown should be my cares: + And were I dead, no thoughts should me torment, + Nor words, nor wrongs, nor loves, nor hopes, nor fears. + A doubtful choice, of three things one to crave; + A kingdom, or a cottage, or a grave. + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book Of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Were my heart as some men's are, thy errors would not move me, + But thy faults I curious find and speak because I love thee; + Patience is a thing divine, and far, I grant, above me. + + Foes sometimes befriend us more, our blacker deeds objecting, + Than th' obsequious bosom-guest with false respect affecting; + Friendship is the Glass of Truth, our hidden stains detecting. + + While I use of eyes enjoy and inward light of reason, + Thy observer will I be and censor, but in season; + Hidden mischief to conceal in state and love is treason. + + +From _Pammelia_, 1609. + + What hap had I to marry a shrow! + For she hath given me many a blow, + And how to please her alack I do not know. + + From morn to even her tongue ne'er lies, + Sometimes she brawls, sometimes she cries, + Yet I can scarce keep her talents[23] from mine eyes. + + If I go abroad and late come in,-- + "Sir knave," saith she, "Where have you been?" + And do I well or ill she claps me on the skin. + +[23] Old form of "talons." + + +From ORLANDO GIBBONS' _First Set Of Madrigals_, 1612. (Ascribed to Sir +Walter Raleigh.) + + What is our life? a play of passion: + Our mirth? the music of division. + Our mothers' wombs the tyring-houses be + Where we are drest for this short comedy: + Heaven the judicious sharp spectator is + That sits and marks whoe'er doth act amiss: + Our graves, that hide us from the searching sun, + Are like drawn curtains when the play is done: + Thus march we playing to our latest rest, + Only we die in earnest,--that's no jest. + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _Madrigals_, 1598. + + What needeth all this travail and turmoiling, + Short'ning the life's sweet pleasure + To seek this far-fetched treasure + In those hot climates under Ph[oe]bus broiling? + + O fools, can you not see a traffic nearer + In my sweet lady's face, where Nature showeth + Whatever treasure eye sees or heart knoweth? + Rubies and diamonds dainty + And orient pearls such plenty, + Coral and ambergreece sweeter and dearer + Than which the South Seas or Moluccas lend us, + Or either Indies, East or West, do send us! + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs_, 1588. + + What pleasure have great princes + More dainty to their choice + Than herdsmen wild, who careless + In quiet life rejoice, + And fortune's fate not fearing + Sing sweet in summer morning? + + Their dealings plain and rightful, + Are void of all deceit; + They never know how spiteful, + It is to kneel and wait + On favourite presumptuous + Whose pride is vain and sumptuous. + + All day their flocks each tendeth; + At night, they take their rest; + More quiet than who sendeth + His ship into the East, + Where gold and pearl are plenty; + But getting, very dainty. + + For lawyers and their pleading, + They 'steem it not a straw; + They think that honest meaning + Is of itself a law: + Whence conscience judgeth plainly, + They spend no money vainly. + + O happy who thus liveth! + Not caring much for gold; + With clothing which sufficeth + To keep him from the cold. + Though poor and plain his diet + Yet merry it is, and quiet. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs_, 1603. + + What poor astronomers are they, + Take women's eyes for stars! + And set their thoughts in battle 'ray, + To fight such idle wars; + When in the end they shall approve + 'Tis but a jest drawn out of Love. + + And Love itself is but a jest + Devised by idle heads, + To catch young Fancies in the nest, + And lay them in fool's beds; + That being hatched in beauty's eyes + They may be fledged ere they be wise. + + But yet it is a sport to see, + How Wit will run on wheels! + While Wit cannot persuaded be, + With that which Reason feels, + That women's eyes and stars are odd + And Love is but a feignèd god! + + But such as will run mad with Will, + I cannot clear their sight + But leave them to their study still, + To look where is no light! + Till time too late, we make them try, + They study false Astronomy! + + +From THOMAS FORD's _Music of Sundry Kinds_, 1607. + + What then is love, sings Corydon, + Since Phyllida is grown so coy? + A flattering glass to gaze upon, + A busy jest, a serious toy, + A flower still budding, never blown, + A scanty dearth in fullest store + Yielding least fruit where most is sown. + My daily note shall be therefore-- + Heigh ho, chil love no more. + + 'Tis like a morning dewy rose + Spread fairly to the sun's arise, + But when his beams he doth disclose + That which then flourish'd quickly dies; + It is a seld-fed dying hope, + A promised bliss, a salveless sore, + An aimless mark, and erring scope. + My daily note shall be therefore,-- + Heigh ho, chil love no more. + + 'Tis like a lamp shining to all, + Whilst in itself it doth decay; + It seems to free whom it doth thrall, + And lead our pathless thoughts astray. + It is the spring of wintered hearts + Parched by the summer's heat before + Faint hope to kindly warmth converts. + My daily note shall be therefore-- + Heigh ho, chil love no more. + + +From RICHARD CARLTON's _Madrigals_, 1601. + + When Flora fair the pleasant tidings bringeth + Of summer sweet with herbs and flowers adornèd, + The nightingale upon the hawthorn singeth + And Boreas' blasts the birds and beasts have scornèd; + When fresh Aurora with her colours painted, + Mingled with spears of gold, the sun appearing, + Delights the hearts that are with love acquainted, + And maying maids have then their time of cheering; + All creatures then with summer are delighted, + The beasts, the birds, the fish with scale of silver; + Then stately dames by lovers are invited + To walk in meads or row upon the river. + I all alone am from these joys exilèd, + No summer grows where love yet never smilèd. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589. + + When I was otherwise than now I am, + I lovèd more but skillèd not so much + Fair words and smiles could have contented then, + My simple age and ignorance was such: + But at the length experience made me wonder + That hearts and tongues did lodge so far asunder. + + As watermen which on the Thames do row, + Look to the east but west keeps on the way; + My sovereign sweet her count'nance settled so, + To feed my hope while she her snares might lay: + And when she saw that I was in her danger, + Good God, how soon she provèd then a ranger! + + I could not choose but laugh, although too late, + To see great craft decypher'd in a toy; + I love her still, but such conditions hate + Which so profanes my paradise of joy. + Love whets the wits, whose pain is but a pleasure; + A toy, by fits to play withal at leisure. + + +From CAMPION and ROSSETER's _Book of Airs_, 1601. + + When thou must home to shades of underground, + And there arrived, a new admirèd guest, + The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round, + White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest, + To hear the stories of thy finished love + From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move; + + Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights, + Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make, + Of tourneys and great challenges of Knights, + And all these triumphs for thy beauty sake: + When thou hast told these honours done to thee, + Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589. + + {deinos Erôs, deinos; ti de to pleon, ên palin eipô, + kai palin, oimôzôn pollaki, deinos Erôs?} + MELEAG. + + When younglings first on Cupid fix their sight, + And see him naked, blindfold, and a boy, + Though bow and shafts and firebrand be his might, + Yet ween they he can work them none annoy; + And therefore with his purple wings they play, + For glorious seemeth love though light as feather, + And when they have done they ween to scape away, + For blind men, say they, shoot they know not whither. + But when by proof they find that he did see, + And that his wound did rather dim their sight, + They wonder more how such a lad as he + Should be of such surpassing power and might. + But ants have galls, so hath the bee his sting: + Then shield me, heavens, from such a subtle thing! + + +From JOHN WILBYE's _Second Set of Madrigals_, 1609. + + Where most my thoughts, there least mine eye is striking; + Where least I come there most my heart abideth; + Where most I love I never show my liking; + From what my mind doth hold my body slideth; + I show least care where most my care dependeth; + A coy regard where most my soul attendeth. + + Despiteful thus unto myself I languish, + And in disdain myself from joy I banish. + These secret thoughts enwrap me so in anguish + That life, I hope, will soon from body vanish, + And to some rest will quickly be conveyèd + That on no joy, while so I lived, hath stayèd. + + +From MARTIN PEARSON's _Mottects or Grave Chamber-Music_, 1630. + + A MOURNING-SONG FOR THE DEATH OF SIR FULKE GREVILLE, LORD BROOKE. + + Where shall a sorrow great enough be sought + For this sad ruin which the Fates have wrought, + Unless the Fates themselves should weep and wish + Their curbless power had been controlled in this? + For thy loss, worthiest Lord, no mourning eye + Has flood enough; no muse nor elegy + Enough expression to thy worth can lend; + No, though thy Sidney had survived his friend. + Dead, noble Brooke shall be to us a name + Of grief and honour still, whose deathless fame + Such Virtue purchased as makes us to be + Unjust to Nature in lamenting thee; + Wailing an old man's fate as if in pride + And heat of Youth he had untimely died. + + +From CAMPION and ROSSETER's _Book of Airs_, 1601. + + {skênê pas ho bios, kai paignion.} + PALLAD. + + Whether men do laugh or weep, + Whether they do wake or sleep, + Whether they die young or old, + Whether they feel heat or cold; + There is underneath the sun + Nothing in true earnest done. + + All our pride is but a jest, + None are worst and none are best; + Grief and joy and hope and fear + Play their pageants everywhere: + Vain Opinion all doth sway, + And the world is but a play. + + Powers above in clouds do sit, + Mocking our poor apish wit, + That so lamely with such state + Their high glory imitate. + No ill can be felt but pain, + And that happy men disdain. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589. + + While that the sun with his beams hot + Scorchèd the fruits in vale and mountain, + Philon, the shepherd, late forgot + Sitting beside a chrystal fountain + In shadow of a green oak-tree, + Upon his pipe this song play'd he: + Adieu, Love! adieu, Love! untrue Love! + Untrue Love, untrue Love! adieu, Love! + Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. + + So long as I was in your sight, + I was your heart, your soul, your treasure; + And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd, + Burning in flames beyond all measure. + Three days endured your love for me, + And it was lost in other three. + Adieu, Love! adieu, Love! untrue Love! + Untrue Love, untrue Love! adieu, Love! + Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. + + Another shepherd you did see, + To whom your heart was soon enchainèd; + Full soon your love was leapt from me, + Full soon my place he had obtainèd: + Soon came a third your love to win; + And we were out, and he was in. + Adieu, Love! adieu, Love! untrue Love! + Untrue Love, untrue Love! adieu, Love! + Your mind is light, soon lost for new Love. + + Sure, you have made me passing glad + That you your mind so soon removèd, + Before that I the leisure had + To choose you for my best belovèd: + For all my love was past and done + Two days, before it was begun. + Adieu, Love! adieu, Love! untrue Love! + Untrue Love, untrue Love! adieu, Love! + Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals_, 1598. + + Whilst youthful sports are lasting, + To feasting turn our fasting. + Fa la la! + + With revels and with wassails + Make grief and care our vassals. + Fa la la! + + For youth it well beseemeth + That pleasure he esteemeth. + Fa la la! + + And sullen age is hated + That mirth would have abated. + Fa la la! + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _Second Book of Songs or Airs_, 1600. + + White as lilies was her face: + When she smilèd + She beguilèd, + Quitting faith with foul disgrace. + Virtue's service thus neglected. + Heart with sorrows hath infected. + + When I swore my heart her own, + She disdainèd; + I complainèd, + Yet she left me overthrown: + Careless of my bitter grieving, + Ruthless, bent to no relieving. + + Vows and oaths and faith assured, + Constant ever, + Changing never,-- + Yet she could not be procured + To believe my pains exceeding + From her scant respect proceeding. + + O that love should have the art, + By surmises, + And disguises, + To destroy a faithful heart; + Or that wanton-looking women + Should reward their friends as foemen. + + All in vain is ladies' love-- + Quickly choosèd. + Shortly loosèd; + For their pride is to remove. + Out, alas! their looks first won us, + And their pride hath straight undone us. + + To thyself, the sweetest Fair! + Thou hast wounded, + And confounded + Changeless faith with foul despair; + And my service hast envièd + And my succours hast denièd. + + By thine error thou hast lost + Heart unfeignèd, + Truth unstainèd. + And the swain that lovèd most, + More assured in love than many, + Move despised in love than any. + + For my heart, though set at nought, + Since you will it, + Spoil and kill it! + I will never change my thought: + But grieve that beauty e'er was born + Thus to answer love with scorn. + + +From FRANCIS PILKINGTON's _First Book of Songs or Airs_, 1605. + + Whither so fast? see how the kindly flowers + Perfume the air, and all to make thee stay: + The climbing wood-bine, clipping all these bowers, + Clips thee likewise for fear thou pass away; + Fortune our friend, our foe will not gainsay. + Stay but awhile, Ph[oe]be no tell-tale is; + She her Endymion, I'll my Ph[oe]be kiss. + + Fear not, the ground seeks but to kiss thy feet; + Hark, hark, how Philomela sweetly sings! + Whilst water-wanton fishes as they meet + Strike crotchet time amidst these crystal springs, + And Zephyrus amongst the leaves sweet murmur rings. + Stay but awhile, Ph[oe]be no tell-tale is; + She her Endymion, I'll my Ph[oe]be kiss. + + See how the helitrope, herb of the sun, + Though he himself long since be gone to bed, + Is not of force thine eye's bright beams to shun, + But with their warmth his goldy leaves unspread, + And on my knee invites thee rest thy head. + Stay but awhile, Ph[oe]be no tell-tale is; + She her Endymion, I'll my Ph[oe]be kiss. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs_, 1588. + + Who likes to love, let him take heed! + And wot you why? + Among the gods it is decreed + That Love shall die; + And every wight that takes his part + Shall forfeit each a mourning heart. + + The cause is this, as I have heard: + A sort of dames, + Whose beauty he did not regard + Nor secret flames, + Complained before the gods above + That gold corrupts the god of love. + + The gods did storm to hear this news, + And there they swore, + That sith he did such dames abuse + He should no more + Be god of love, but that he should + Both die and forfeit all his gold. + + His bow and shafts they took away + Before his eyes, + And gave these dames a longer day + For to devise + Who should them keep, and they be bound + That love for gold should not be found. + + These ladies striving long, at last + They did agree + To give them to a maiden chaste, + Whom I did see, + Who with the same did pierce my breast: + Her beauty's rare, and so I rest. + + +From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589. + + 1. Who made thee, Hob, forsake the plough + And fall in love? + 2. Sweet beauty, which hath power to bow + The gods above. + 1. What dost thou serve? 2. A shepherdess; + One such as hath no peer, I guess. + 1. What is her name who bears thy heart + Within her breast? + 2. Silvana fair, of high desert, + Whom I love best. + 1. O, Hob, I fear she looks too high. + 2. Yet love I must, or else I die. + + +From THOMAS BATESON's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1604. + + Who prostrate lies at women's feet. + And calls them darlings dear and sweet; + Protesting love, and craving grace, + And praising oft a foolish face; + Are oftentimes deceived at last, + Then catch at nought and hold it fast. + + +From JOHN FARMER's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1599. + + Who would have thought that face of thine + Had been so full of doubleness, + Or that within those crystal eyn + Had been so much unstableness? + Thy face so fair, thy look so strange! + Who would have thought of such a change? + + +From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals of Five and Six Parts_, 1600. + + Why are you Ladies staying, + And your Lords gone a-maying? + Run apace and meet them + And with your garlands greet them. + 'Twere pity they should miss you, + For they will sweetly kiss you. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _First Book of Songs or Airs_, 1597. + + Wilt thou, Unkind! thus 'reave me + Of my heart and so leave me? + Farewell! + But yet, or ere I part, O Cruel, + Kiss me, Sweet, my Jewel! + Farewell! + + Hope by disdain grows cheerless, + Fear doth love, love doth fear; + Beauty peerless, + Farewell! + + If no delays can move thee, + Life shall die, death shall live + Still to love thee. + Farewell! + + Yet be thou mindful ever! + Heat from fire, fire from heat, + None can sever. + Farewell! + + True love cannot be changèd, + Though delight from desert + Be estrangèd. + Farewell! + + +From THOMAS CAMPION's _Two Books of Airs_ (circ. 1613). + + Wise men patience never want, + Good men pity cannot hide; + Feeble spirits only vaunt + Of revenge, the poorest pride: + He alone forgive that can + Bears the true soul of a man. + + Some there are debate that seek, + Making trouble their content; + Happy if they wrong the meek, + Vex them that to peace are bent: + Such undo the common tie + Of mankind, Society. + + Kindness grown is lately cold, + Conscience hath forgot her part; + Blessèd times were known of old + Long ere Law became an art: + Shame deterred, not statutes then; + Honest love was law to men. + + Deeds from love, and words, that flow, + Foster like kind April showers; + In the warm sun all things grow, + Wholesome fruits and pleasant flowers: + All so thrives his gentle rays + Whereon human love displays. + + +From JOHN DOWLAND's _Second Book of Songs or Airs_, 1600. + + Woeful Heart, with grief oppressèd! + Since my fortunes most distressèd + From my joys hath me removèd, + Follow those sweet eyes adorèd! + Those sweet eyes wherein are storèd + All my pleasures best belovèd. + + Fly my breast--leave me forsaken-- + Wherein Grief his seat hath taken, + All his arrows through me darting! + Thou mayst live by her sunshining: + I shall suffer no more pining + By thy loss than by her parting. + + +From THOMAS GREAVES' _Songs of Sundry Kinds_, 1604. + + Ye bubbling springs that gentle music makes + To lovers' plaints with heart-sore throbs immixed, + When as my dear this way her pleasure takes, + Tell her with tears how firm my love is fixed; + And, Philomel, report my timerous fears, + And, echo, sound my heigh-ho's in her ears: + But if she asks if I for love will die, + Tell her, Good faith, good faith, good faith,--not I. + + +From FARMER's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1599. + + You blessèd bowers whose green leaves now are spreading, + Shadow the sunshine from my mistress' face, + And you, sweet roses, only for her bedding + When weary she doth take her resting-place; + You fair white lilies and pretty flowers all, + Give your attendance at my mistress' call. + + +From THOMAS MORLEY's _First Book of Ballets_, 1595. + + You that wont to my pipe's sound + Daintily to tread your ground, + Jolly shepherds and nymphs sweet, + (Lirum, lirum.) + + Here met together + Under the weather, + Hand in hand uniting, + The lovely god come greet. + (Lirum, lirum) + + Lo, triumphing, brave comes he, + All in pomp and majesty, + Monarch of the world and king. + (Lirum, lirum.) + + Let whoso list him + Dare to resist him, + We our voices uniting, + Of his high acts will sing. + (Lirum, lirum.) + + +From THOMAS BATESON's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1604. + + Your shining eyes and golden hair, + Your lily-rosèd lips so fair; + Your various beauties which excel, + Men cannot choose but like them well: + Yet when for them they say they'll die, + Believe them not,--they do but lie. + + + + +NOTES. + + +_Page_ 3. + +Thomas Weelkes was organist of Winchester College in 1600, and of +Chichester Cathedral in 1608. His first collection, "Madrigals to three, +four, five, or six voices," was published in 1597. Here first appeared +the verses (fraudulently ascribed, in "The Passionate Pilgrim," 1599, to +Shakespeare), "My flocks feed not." In 1598 Weelkes published "Ballets +and Madrigals to five voices," which was followed in 1600 by "Madrigals +of five and six parts." Prefixed to the last-named work is the following +dedicatory epistle:-- + +"To the truly noble, virtuous, and honorable, my very good Lord Henry, +Lord Winsor, Baron of Bradenham. + +My Lord, in the College at Winchester, where I live, I have heard +learned men say that some philosophers have mistaken the soul of man for +an harmony: let the precedent of their error be a privilege for mine. I +see not, if souls do not partly consist of music, how it should come to +pass that so noble a spirit as your's, so perfectly tuned to so +perpetual a _tenor_ of excellence as it is, should descend to the notice +of a quality lying single in so low a personage as myself. But in music +the _base_ part is no disgrace to the best ears' attendancy. I confess +my conscience is untoucht with any other arts, and I hope my confession +is unsuspected; many of us musicians think it as much praise to be +somewhat more than musicians as it is for gold to be somewhat more than +gold, and if _Jack Cade_ were alive, yet some of us might live, unless +we should think, as the artisans in the Universities of Poland and +Germany think, that the Latin tongue comes by reflection. I hope your +Lordship will pardon this presumption of mine; the rather, because I +know before Nobility I am to deal sincerely; and this small faculty of +mine, because it is alone in me, and without the assistance of other +more confident sciences, is the more to be favoured and the rather to be +received into your honour's protection; so shall I observe you with as +humble and as true an heart, as he whose knowledge is as large as the +world's creation, and as earnestly pray for you to the world's Creator. + + Your Honor's in all humble service, + THOMAS WEELKES." + +In 1608 appeared Weelkes' last work, "Airs or Fantastic Spirits for +three voices," a collection of lively and humorous ditties. Oliphant +writes:--"For originality of ideas, and ingenuity of construction in +part writing, (I allude more especially to his ballets,) Weelkes in my +opinion leaves all other composers of his time far behind." The verses +in Weelkes' song-books are never heavy or laboured; they are always +bright, cheerful, and arch. + +_Page_ 3. Robert Jones was a famous performer on the lute. He had a +share in the management of the theatre in the Whitefriars (Collier's +"Annals of the Stage," i. 395). His works are of the highest rarity. The +delightful lyrics in Jones' song-books have escaped the notice of all +the editors of anthologies. + +_Page_ 4. Thomas Morley, who was a pupil of William Byrd, was the author +of the first systematic treatise on music published in this country--"A +plain and easy Introduction to practical Music," 1597, quaintly set down +in form of a dialogue. The verses in his collections are mere airy +trifles, and hardly bear to be separated from the music. + +"About the maypole new," &c., is a translation of some Italian lines, +beginning-- + + "Al suon d'una sampogn' e d'una citera, + Sopra l'herbette floride + Dansava Tirsi con l'amata Cloride," &c. + +In Morley's "Canzonets to three Voices," 1593, we have the following +pleasant description of the preparations for a country wedding:-- + + "Arise, get up, my dear, make haste, begone thee: + Lo! where the bride, fair Daphne, tarries on thee. + Hark! O hark! yon merry maidens squealing + Spice-cakes, sops-in-wine are a-dealing. + Run, then run apace + And get a bride-lace + And gilt rosemary branch the while there yet is catching + And then hold fast for fear of old snatching. + + Alas! my dear, why weep ye? + O fear not that, dear love, the next day keep we. + List, yon minstrels! hark how fine they firk it, + And how the maidens jerk it! + With Kate and Will, + Tom and Gill, + Now a skip, + Then a trip, + Finely fet aloft, + There again as oft; + Hey ho! blessed holiday! + All for Daphne's wedding day!" + +_Page_ 9. John Wilbye is styled by Oliphant "the first of madrigal +writers." He published his "First Set of English Madrigals" in 1598, and +his "Second Set" in 1609. The Second Set was dedicated to the +unfortunate Lady Arabella Stuart. The composer concludes his dedicatory +epistle with the prayer, "I beseech the Almighty to make you in all the +passages of your life truly happy, as you are in the world's true +opinion, virtuous." In the very year when the epistle was written the +gifted patroness of art and learning was accused before the Privy +Council and ordered to be kept in close confinement. She made her +escape, but after a few hours was captured at sea in her flight to +Dunkirk, brought back to London, and committed to the Tower, where she +died of a broken heart in 1615. It is pleasant to think that the +song-book dedicated to her honour may have cheered her in the long hours +of solitude. The collection consists chiefly of love-lyrics; but such +verses as "Happy, O happy he," &c. (p. 37) and "Draw on, sweet Night" +(p. 21), must have been carefully cherished by the poor captive. + +_Page_ 9. "April is in my mistress' face."--Compare Robert Greene's +verses in "Perimedes, the Blacksmith," 1588:-- + + "Fair is my love, for April in her face, + 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, + Accurs'd that month that hindereth my desire!" + +_Page_ 11. "The Urchins' Dance" is from the anonymous play "The Maid's +Metamorphosis," 1600. In the same play are the following dainty +verses;-- + + "_1 Fairy._ I do come about the copse + Leaping upon flowers' tops; + Then I get upon a fly, + She carries me above the sky, + And trip and go! + + _2 Fairy._ When a dew-drop falleth down + And doth light upon my crown, + Then I shake my head and skip + And about I trip. + + _3 Fairy._ When I feel a girl a-sleep, + Underneath her frock I peep, + There to sport, and there I play; + Then I bite her like a flea, + And about I skip." + +Thomas Ravenscroft, compiler of the "Brief Discourse," won his spurs at +a very early age. He took his degree of Bachelor of Music before he had +reached his fifteenth year, as we learn from some commendatory verses +prefixed to the "Brief Discourse;"-- + + "Non vidit tria lustra puer, quin arte probatus, + Vita laudatus, sumpsit in arte gradum." + +He was twenty-two when he published the "Brief Discourse" in 1614: but +in 1611 be had published "Melismata, musical fancies fitting the court, +city, and country humours," and he edited two collections that appeared +in 1609--"Pammelia" and "Deuteromelia." "Pammelia" is the earliest +English printed collection of Catches, Rounds, and Canons; both words +and music were for the most part older than the date of publication. +"Deuteromelia" was intended as a continuation of "Pammelia." + +_Page_ 12. Robert Dowland, editor of "A Musical Banquet," was a son of +John Dowland; he succeeded his father as one of the Court musicians in +1626, and was alive in 1641. + +_Page_ 16. Thomas Ford, when he published his "Music of sundry kinds," +1607, was a musician in the suite of Prince Henry. At the accession of +Charles I. he was appointed one of his musicians, and he died in +1648--the year before his royal patron was beheaded. + +_Page_ 23. "Little lawn then serve[d] the Pawn."--The Pawn was a +corridor, serving as a bazaar, in the Royal Exchange (Gresham's). + +_Page_ 24. "Farewell, false Love, the oracle of lies."--"J. C." in +"Alcilia," 1595, writes:-- + + "Love is honey mixed with gall, + A thraldom free, a freedom thrall; + A bitter sweet, a pleasant sour, + Got in a year, lost in an hour; + A peaceful war, a warlike peace, + Whose wealth brings want, whose want increase; + Full long pursuit and little gain, + Uncertain pleasure, certain pain; + Regard of neither right nor wrong, + For short delights repentance long. + + Love is the sickness of the thought, + Conceit of pleasure dearly bought; + A restless passion of the mind, + A labyrinth of arrows blind: + A sugared poison, fair deceit, + A bait for fools, a furious heat; + A chilling cold, a wondrous passion, + Exceeding man's imagination; + Which none can tell in whole or part, + But only he that feels the smart." + +Robert Greene has a somewhat similar description of Love ("What thing is +Love? it is a power divine," &c.) in "Menaphon," 1589. + +_Page_ 28. "Fond wanton youths."--This piece is also printed in "The +Golden Garland of Princely Delights," 1620, where it is headed "Of the +Inconveniences by Marriage," and is directed to be sung to the tune of +"When Troy town." + +_Page_ 29, l. 22. "Their _longings_ must not be beguiled."--The original +gives "Their _laughings_" (which is unintelligible). + +_Page_ 31. It was at Wanstead House, a seat of the Earl of Leicester, +that Sidney wrote his masque the "Lady of the May" in honour of Queen +Elizabeth's visit in 1578. "Was Raleigh retired there," writes Mr. W. +J. Linton (_Rare Poems_, p. 257), "during some season of her +displeasure? There is a look of him about this song, not unlike the +lines to Cynthia; and what mistress but Majesty should appoint his place +of retirement? + + 'Wanstead, my Mistress saith this is the doom.'" + +The two lines that close each stanza are from a song in Sidney's +"Arcadia." + +_Page_ 37. "Who, known to all, unknown to himself dies." From Seneca's +"Thyestes:"-- + + "qui notus nimis omnibus + Ignotus moritur sibi." + +_Page_ 39. "How many things."--I have given four of John Maynard's +"Twelve Wonders of the World" (cf. pp. 44-5, 69); and, if I am not +mistaken, the reader will like to see the remaining eight. There is much +freshness and piquancy in these quaint old rhymes, which were written by +no less a poet than Sir John Davies. + + +"THE DIVINE. + + My calling is Divine, + And I from God am sent; + I will no chop-church be, + Nor pay my patron rent, + + Nor yield to sacrilege; + But like the kind true mother, + Rather will lose all the child + Than part it with another. + + Much wealth I will not seek, + Nor worldly masters serve, + So to grow rich and fat + While my poor flock doth starve. + + +THE SOLDIER. + + My occupation is + The noble trade of kings + The trial that decides + The highest right of things. + + Though Mars my master be, + I do not Venus love, + Nor honour Bacchus oft, + Nor often swear by Jove. + + Of speaking of myself + I all occasion shun, + And rather love to do, + Than boast what I have done. + + +THE LAWYER. + + The law my calling is; + My robe, my tongue, my pen + Wealth and opinion gain + And make me judge of men. + + The known dishonest cause, + I never did defend + Nor spun out suits in length, + But wish'd and sought an end; + + Nor counsel did bewray, + Nor of both parties take, + Nor ever took I fee + For which I never spake. + + +THE PHYSICIAN. + + I study to uphold + The slippery state of man, + Who dies when we have done + The best and all we can. + + From practice and from books + I draw my learned skill, + Not from the known receipt + Or 'pothecary's bill. + + The earth my faults doth hide, + The world my cures doth see, + What youth and time effects + Is oft ascribed to me. + + +THE MERCHANT. + + My trade doth everything + To every land supply, + Discovers unknown coasts, + Strange countries doth ally. + + I never did forestall, + I never did engross, + Nor custom did withdraw + Though I return'd with loss. + + I thrive by fair exchange, + By selling and by buying, + And not by Jewish use, + Reprisal, fraud, or lying. + + +THE COUNTRY GENTLEMAN. + + Though strange outlandish spirits + Praise towns and countries scorn, + The country is my home, + I dwell where I was born. + + There profit and command + With pleasure I partake, + Yet do not hawks and dogs + My sole companions make. + + I rule, but not oppress; + End quarrels, not maintain; + See towns, but dwell not there + To abridge my charge or train. + + +THE WIFE. + + The first of all our sex + Came from the side of man, + I thither am return'd + From whence our sex began. + + I do not visit oft, + Nor many when I do, + I tell my mind to few + And that in counsel too. + + I seem not sick in health, + Nor sullen but in sorrow; + I care for somewhat else + Than what to wear to-morrow. + + +THE WIDOW. + + My dying husband knew + How much his death would grieve me, + And therefore left me wealth + To comfort and relieve me. + + Though I no more will have, + I must not love disdain; + Penelope her self + Did suitors entertain. + + And yet to draw on such + As are of best esteem, + Nor younger than I am + Nor richer will I seem." + +_Page_ 41. "I have house and land in Kent."--This admirable song has +been frequently reprinted. Miss De Vaynes, in her very valuable "Kentish +Garland" (i., 142), observes:--"We have met with no other song in the +Kentish dialect except Jan Ploughshare's" (printed on p. 372, vol. i., +of the "Garland"). Rimbault in his "Little Book of Songs and Ballads" +(1851), gives the following lines from an old MS. (temp. Henry VIII.):-- + + "Joan, quoth John, when will this be? + Tell me when wilt thou marry me, + My corn and eke my calf and rents, + My lands and all my tenements? + Say, Joan, quoth John, what wilt thou do? + I cannot come every day to woo?" + +David Herd printed a fragment of a Scotch song that was founded on the +English song:-- + + "I hae layen three herring a' sa't, + Bonny lass, gin ze'll take me, tell me now, + And I hae brew'n three pickles o' ma't + And I cannae cum ilka day to woo. + _To woo, to woo, to lilt and to woo, + And I cannae cum ilka day to woo_. + + I hae a wee ca'f that wad fain be a cow, + Bonny lassie, gin ye'll take me, tell me now, + I hae a wee gryce that wad fain be a sow, + And I cannae cum ilka day to woo. + _To woo, to woo, to lilt and to woo, + And I cannae cum ilka day to woo_." + +_Page_ 43. "I joy not in no earthly bliss."--These stanzas are usually +printed with "My mind to me a kingdom is" (p. 78), and the whole poem +has been attributed to Sir Edward Dyer. + +_Page_ 47. "I weigh not Fortune's frown nor smile."--These lines (which +seem to have been modelled on "I joy not in no earthly bliss") are by +Joshua Sylvester. + +In the second stanza, "I sound not at the news of wreck," _sound_ is an +old form of _swoon_. + +_Page_ 52. "If women could be fair."--This poem is ascribed to Edward, +Earl of Oxford, in Rawlinson, MS. 85, fol. 16. + +_Page_ 53. "In darkness let me dwell."--These lines are also found in +Robert Dowland's "Musical Banquet," 1610, set to music by John Dowland. + +_Page_ 57. "In the merry month of May."--First printed in "The Honorable +Entertainment given to the Queen's Majesty in Progress at Elvetham in +Hampshire, by the Right Honorable the Earl of Hertford," 1591, under the +title of "The Ploughman's Song." + +_Page_ 60. "It was the frog in the well."--There are several versions of +this old ditty: the following is from Kirkpatrick Sharpe's "Ballad +Book," 1824:-- + + "There lived a puddy in a well, + And a merry mouse in a mill. + + Puddy he'd a wooin ride, + Sword and pistol by his side. + + Puddy came to the mouse's wonne, + 'Mistress mouse, are you within?' + + 'Yes, kind sir, I am within; + Saftly do I sit and spin.' + + 'Madam, I am come to woo; + Marriage I must have of you.' + + 'Marriage I will grant you nane, + Until uncle Rotten he comes hame.' + + 'Uncle Rotten's now come hame; + Fy! gar busk the bride alang.' + + Lord Rotten sat at the head o' the table, + Because he was baith stout and able. + + Wha is't that sits next the wa', + But Lady Mouse, baith jimp and sma'? + + What is't that sits next the bride, + But the sola puddy wi' his yellow side? + + Syne came the deuk, but and the drake; + The deuk took puddy, and garred him squaik. + + Then cam in the carl cat, + Wi' a fiddle on his back. + 'Want ye ony music here?' + + The puddy he swam doun the brook; + The drake he catched him in his fluke. + + The cat he pu'd Lord Rotten doun; + The kittens they did claw his croun. + + But Lady Mouse, baith jimp and sma', + Crept into a hole beneath the wa'; + 'Squeak!' quoth she, 'I'm weel awa.'" + +Doubtless Ravenscroft's version is more ancient. A ballad entitled "A +most strange weddinge of the frogge and the mouse" was licensed for +printing in 1580. + +_Page_ 65. "Lady, when I behold."--Gracefully Paraphrased from an +Italian original:-- + + "Quand' io miro le rose, + Ch'in voi natura pose; + E quelle che v' ha l'arte + Nel vago seno sparte; + Non so conoscer poi + Se voi le rose, o sian le rose in voi." + +_Page_ 66. John Danyel is supposed to have been a brother of Samuel +Daniel, the poet. He took his degree of Bachelor of Music in 1604. "At +the commencement of the reign of Charles the First he was one of the +Court Musicians, and his name occurs among the 'Musicians for the Lutes +and Voices' in a privy seal, dated December 20th, 1625, exempting the +musicians belonging to the Court from the payment of subsidies" +(Rimbault). + +_Page_ 68. "Then all at once _for our town_ cries."--"I should imagine," +says Oliphant, "that there was occasionally a sort of friendly +contention in the sports between neighbouring villages; which idea is +rather corroborated by a passage from an old play called the +'Vow-breaker' by Samson, 1636: 'Let the major play the hobby-horse an' +he will; I hope _our Town lads_ cannot want a hobby-horse.'" In an old +play. "The Country Girl," (first printed in 1647), attributed to that +shadowy personage Antony Brewer, we have an allusion to this pleasant +form of rivalry:-- + + "_Abraham._ Sister Gillian,--I have the rarest news for you. + + _Gillian._ For me? 'tis well. And what news have you got, sir? + + _Abr._ Skipping news, lipping news, tripping news. + + _Gil._ How! dancing, brother Abram, dancing? + + _Abr._ Prancing, advancing, dancing. Nay, 'tis a match, a + match upon a wager. + + _Gil._ A match. Who be they? + + _Abr._ Why all the wenches of _our town_ Edmonton, and all the + mad wenches of Waltham. + + _Gil._ A match, and leave me out! When, when is't, brother? + + _Abr._ Marry, e'en this morning:--they are now going to't + helter-skelter. [_A treble plays within_. + + _Gil._ And leave me out! where, brother, where? + + _Abr._ Why there, Sister Gillian; there, at our own door almost,--on + the green there, close by the may-pole. Hark! you may hear them + hither." (Sig. D.) + +The stage-direction at the entrance of the dancers runs thus:--"Enter +six country wenches, all red petticoats, white stitch'd bodies, in their +smock-sleeves, the fiddler before them, and Gillian with her tippet up +in the midst of them dancing." + +_Page_ 73. "It was the purest light of heaven" &c.--I am reminded of a +fine passage in Drayton's "Barons' Wars," canto VI.:-- + + "Looking upon proud Phaeton wrapped in fire, + The gentle queen did much bewail his fall; + But Mortimer commended his desire + To lose one poor life or to govern all. + 'What though,' quoth he, 'he madly did aspire + And his great mind made him proud Fortune's thrall? + Yet, in despight when she her worst had done, + _He perish'd in the chariot of the sun_.'" + +_Page_ 74. "The Bellman's Song."--In "Robin Goodfellow; his mad pranks +and merry jests," 1628, we have another specimen of a Bellman's Song:-- + +"Sometimes would he go like a bellman in the night, and with many pretty +verses delight the ears of those that waked at his bell-ringing: his +verses were these:-- + + Maids in your smocks, + Look well to your locks, + And your tinder-box, + Your wheels and your rocks, + Your hens and your cocks, + Your cows and your ox, + And beware of the fox. + When the bellman knocks + Put out your fire and candle-light, + So they shall not you affright. + May you dream of your delights, + In your sleeps see pleasing sights! + Good rest to all, both old and young: + The bellman now hath done his song. + +Then would he go laughing _Ho ho ho!_ as his use was." + +_Page_ 77. "That kisses were the _seals of love_."--Every reader will +recall + + "But my kisses bring again, bring again. + _Seals of love_ but sealed in vain, sealed in vain." + +(The first stanza is found among the poems of Sir Philip Sidney.) + +_Page_ 80. "My prime of youth."--This song is also set to music in +Richard Alison's "Hour's Recreation," 1606, and Michael Este's +"Madrigals of three, four, and five parts," 1604. It is printed in +"Reliquiæ: Wottonianæ" as "By Chidick Tychborn, being young and then in +the tower, the night before his execution." Chidiock Tychbourne of +Southampton was executed with Ballard and Babington in 1586. + +_Page_ 80. "My sweetest Lesbia."--The first stanza is an elegant +paraphrase from Catullus, though the last line fails to render the +rhythmical sweetness long-drawn-out of "Nox est perpetua una dormienda." + +_Page_ 81. "My Thoughts are winged with Hopes."--This piece is also +found in "England's Helicon." A MS. copy, in a commonplace book found at +Hamburg, is signed "W. S." I have frequently met with these initials in +volumes of MS. poetry of the early part of the seventeenth century. The +following pretty verses in Add. MS. 21, 433, fol. 158, are subscribed +"W. S.":-- + + "O when will Cupid show such art + To strike two lovers with one dart? + I'm ice to him or he to me; + Two hearts alike there seldom be. + + If ten thousand meet together, + Scarce one face is like another: + If scarce two faces can agree, + Two hearts alike there seldom be." + +There is not the slightest ground for identifying "W. S." with +Shakespeare. Mr. Linton ("Rare Poems," p. 255) conjectures that "My +Thoughts are winged with Hopes"--which has the heading "To Cynthia" in +"England's Helicon"--may be by Raleigh. + +_Page_ 83. "Now each creature."--The first stanza of "An Ode" by Samuel +Daniel, originally printed in the 1592 edition of "Delia." + +"Now God be with old Simeon."--Here is another round from "Pammelia":-- + + "Come drink to me, + And I to thee. + And then shall we + Full well agree. + + I've loved the jolly tankard, + Full seven winters and more; + I loved it so long + That I went upon the score. + + Who loveth not the tankard, + He is no honest man; + And he is no right soldier, + That loveth not the can. + + Tap the cannikin, troll the cannikin, + Toss the cannikin, turn the cannikin! + Hold now, good son, and fill us a fresh can, + That we may quaff it round from man to man." + +Good honest verse, but ill-suited to these degenerate, tea-drinking +days. + +_Page_ 85. "Now I see thy looks were feignèd."--First printed in "The +Ph[oe]nix Nest," 1593, subscribed "T. L. Gent," _i.e._ Thomas Lodge, one +of the most brilliant of Elizabethan lyrists. + +_Page_ 87. "Shall we play barley-break."--The fullest description of the +rustic game of barley-break is to be found in the first book of Sidney's +"Arcadia." + +_Page_ 87. "Now let her change." This song is also set to Music in +Robert Jones' "Ultimum Vale" (1608). + +_Page_ 89. "Now what is love" &c.--This poem originally appeared in "The +Ph[oe]nix Nest," 1593; it is also printed (in form of a dialogue) in +"England's Helicon," 1600, and Davison's "Poetical Rhapsody," 1602. It +is ascribed to Raleigh in a MS. list of Davison's. See Canon Hannah's +edition of Raleigh's poems. + +_Page_ 93. "Oft have I mused."--This poem was printed in Davison's +"Poetical Rhapsody," 1602. + +_Page_ 96. "Our country-swains in the morris-dance."--In Morley's +"Madrigals to Four Voices," 1594, there is a lively description of the +morris-dance:-- + + "Ho! who comes here with bag-piping and drumming? + O, 'tis I see the morris-dance a coming. + Come, ladies, out, O come, come quickly, + And see about how trim they dance and trickly: + Hey! there again: hark! how the bells they shake it! + Now _for our town_! once there, now for our town and take it: + Soft awhile, not away so fast, they melt them! + Piper be hang'd, knave! look, the dancers swelt them. + Out, there, stand out!--you come too far (I say) in-- + There give the hobby-horse more room to play in!" + +"I woo with tears and _ne'er the near_."--_Ne'er the near_ (a proverbial +expression) = Never the nigher. + +_Page_ 107. "When they came home Sis _floted_ cream."--I suppose the +meaning is that Sis skimmed the cream from the milk. Halliwell (_Arch. +Dict._) gives "Flotten-milk. Same as Flet-mitte" and "flet-mitte" is a +north-country term for skimmed milk. + +"Since first I saw."--This exquisite song is also found in "The Golden +Garland of Princely Delights," 1620. + +_Page_ 114. "Sweet Love, my only treasure."--Printed in Davison's +"Poetical Rhapsody," 1602, where it is subscribed with the mysterious +initials "A. W." + +_Page_ 115. "Sweet, stay awhile."--I suspect that this stanza does not +really belong to Donne's "Break of day;" it is not found in MS. copies +of Donne's poems, nor in any edition prior to that of 1669. Probably +Donne's verses were written as a companion-piece to the present poem. + +_Page_ 120. "Yet merrily sings little Robin."--The loveliest of all +verses in praise of Robin Redbreast are in Chapman's "Tears of Peace," +1609:-- + + "Whose face _the bird_ hid _that loves humans best, + That hath the bugle eyes and rosy breast, + And is the yellow autumn's nightingale_." + +_Page_ 120. "The love of change."--This is the first stanza of a poem +which is printed entire (in six stanzas) in Davison's "Poetical +Rhapsody," 1602. + +_Page_ 121. "The lowest trees have tops."--Printed in Davison's +"Poetical Rhapsody" with the signature "Incerto." + +_Page_ 121. "The man of life upright."--In some old MS. copies this poem +is ascribed to Francis Bacon: see Hannah's "Poems of Raleigh and +Wotton," p. 119. Canon Hannah makes no mention of Campion's claim. +Campion distinctly tells us that he wrote both the verses and the music +of his songs: and I have no doubt that he was the author of the present +lyric, which has more merit than any of Bacon's poems. In an epigram +printed in his "Observations in the Art of English Poetry," 1602, there +is a striking image that reappears in the present poem:-- + + "A wise man wary lives yet most secure, + Sorrows move not him greatly, nor delights, + Fortune and death he scorning only makes + _Th' earth his sober inn_, but still heaven his home." + (SIG. C2). + +Henceforward let nobody claim "The man of life upright" for Bacon. + +_Page_ 124. "The Nightingale so pleasant and so gay."--"According to +Peacham," says Oliphant ("_Musa Madrigalesca_," p. 45), "there was a +virtuous contention between W. Byrd and Ferrabosco who of the two should +best set these words; in which according to his (Peacham's) opinion, +Ferrabosco succeeded so well that 'it could not be bettered for +sweetness of ayre and depth of judgment.'" + +_Page_ 124. "The Nightingale so soon as April bringeth."--From the first +stanza of a poem printed in the third edition of Sidney's "Arcadia," +1598. + +_Page_ 126. "There is a garden in her face."--This poem is also set to +music in Alison's "Hour's Recreation," 1606, and Robert Jones' "Ultimum +Vale" (1608). Herrick's dainty verses "Cherry-Ripe" are well-known:-- + + "Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe! I cry: + Full and fair ones, come and buy. + If so be you ask me where + They do grow, I answer,--There, + Where my Julia's lips do smile, + There's the land or cherry-isle, + Whose plantations fully show + All the year where cherries grow." + +_Page_ 127. "There is a lady sweet and kind."--Printed also in "The +Golden Garland of Princely Delights," 1620. + +_Page_ 128. "There were three Ravens."--The north-country version of +this noble dirge contains some verses of appalling intensity:-- + + "His horse is to the huntin gane + His hounds to bring the wild deer hame; + His lady's ta'en another mate, + So we may mak our dinner sweet. + + "O we'll sit on his bonny breast-bane, + And we'll pyke out his bonny gray een; + Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair, + We'll theek our nest when it blaws bare. + + "_Mony a ane for him makes mane, + But none sall ken where he is gane: + Ower his banes when they are bare, + The wind sall blaw for evermair_." + +_Page_ 130. "Think'st thou to seduce me," &c.--In William Corkine's +"Airs," 1610, this song is found with considerable variations. Corkine +gives only three stanzas. The first stanza agrees closely with Campion's +text; the second and third stanzas run thus:-- + + "Learn to speak first, then to woo, to wooing much pertaineth; + He that hath not art to hide, soon falters when he feigneth, + And, as one that wants his wits, he smiles when he complaineth. + + "If with wit we be deceived our faults may be excusèd, + Seeming good with flattery graced is but of few refusèd, + But of all accursed are they that are by fools abusèd." + +_Page_ 131. "Thou art not fair for all thy red and white."--These lines +are printed in Dr. Grosart's edition of Donne's poems, vol. ii. p. 259. +They are ascribed to Donne in an early MS.; but I see no reason for +depriving Campion of them. (The first stanza is also set to music in +Thomas Vautor's "Airs," 1619.) + +_Page_ 132. "Though Amaryllis dance in green."--Also printed in +"England's Helicon," 1600. + +_Page_ 148. "We must not part as others do."--These lines are very much +in Donne's manner. The MS. from which they are taken (Egerton MS. 2013) +contains some undoubted poems of Donne. + +_Page_ 151. "Were I a king."--Canon Hannah prints these verses (in his +"Poems of Raleigh and Wotton," p. 147) from a MS. copy, in which they +are assigned to Edward Earl of Oxford. Appended in the MS. are the +following answers:-- + + "ANSWERED THUS BY SIR P. S. + Wert thou a king, yet not command content, + Sith empire none thy mind could yet suffice; + Wert thou obscure, still cares would thee torment; + But wert thou dead all care and sorrow dies. + An easy choice, of these three which to crave: + No kingdom, nor a cottage, but a grave. + + "ANOTHER OF ANOTHER MIND. + A king? oh, boon for my aspiring mind, + A cottage makes a country swad rejoice: + And as for death, I like him in his kind + But God forbid that he should be my choice! + A kingdom or a cottage or a grave,-- + Nor last, nor next, but first and best I crave; + The rest I can, whenas I list, enjoy, + Till then salute me thus--_Vive le roy_! + + "ANOTHER OF ANOTHER MIND. + The greatest kings do least command content; + The greatest cares do still attend a crown; + A grave all happy fortunes doth prevent + Making the noble equal with the clown: + A quiet country life to lead I crave; + A cottage then; no kingdom nor a grave." + +_Page_ 152. "What is our life?"--A MS. copy of these verses is +subscribed "S^r W. R.", _i.e._, Sir Walter Raleigh. See Hannah's "Poems +of Raleigh and Wotton," p. 27. + +Compare the sombre verses, signed "Ignoto," in "Reliquiæ Wottonianæ":-- + + "Man's life's a tragedy; his mother's womb, + From which he enters, is the tiring-room; + This spacious earth the theatre, and the stage + That country which he lives in: passions, rage, + Folly and vice are actors; the first cry + The prologue to the ensuing tragedy; + The former act consisteth of dumb shows; + The second, he to more perfection grows; + I' the third he is a man and doth begin + To nurture vice and act the deeds of sin; + I' the fourth declines; i' the fifth diseases clog + And trouble him; then death's his epilogue." + +_Page_ 153. "What needeth all this travail and turmoiling?"--Suggested +by Spenser's fifteenth sonnet:-- + + "Ye tradefull Merchants that with weary toyle + Do seeke most pretious things to make your gain, + And both the Indias of their treasure spoile, + What needeth you to seeke so farre in vaine? + For loe! my Love doth in her selfe containe + All this worlds riches that may farre be found. + If Saphyres, loe! her eies be Saphyres plaine; + If Rubies, loe! hir lips be Rubies sound; + If Pearles, hir teeth be pearles, both pure and round; + If Yvorie, her forehead yvory weene; + If Gold, her locks are finest gold on ground; + If Silver, her faire hands are silver sheene: + But that which fairest is but few behold, + Her mind, adornd with vertues manifold." + +_Page_ 154, l. 1. "And fortune's fate not fearing."--Oliphant boldly +reads, for the sake of the rhyme, "And _fickle fortune scorning_."--in +"England's Helicon" the text is the same as in the song-book. + +_Page_ 158, l. 5. "And when she saw that I was in her danger."--_Within +one's danger_ = to be in a person's power or control. + +L. 16. "White _Iope_."--Campion must have had in his mind a passage of +Propertius (ii. 28);-- + + "Sunt apud infernos tot millia formosarum: + Pulchra sit in superis, si licet, una locis. + Vobiscum est _Iope_, vobiscum candida Tyro, + Vobiscum Europe, nec proba Pasiphae." + +See Hertzberg's note on that passage. + +_Page_ 162. "While that the sun."--Also printed in "England's Helicon," +1600. + + + + +LIST OF SONG-BOOKS. + + +ALISON, RICHARD. _An Hour's Recreation in Music_, +1606. + +ATTYE, JOHN. _First Book of Airs of Four Parts_, 1622. + +BATESON, THOMAS. _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1604. + +BYRD, WILLIAM. _Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs of Sadness and +Piety_, 1588. + _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589. + _Psalms, Songs, and Sonnets_, 1611. + +CAMPION, THOMAS. _see_ ROSSETER, PHILIP. + _Two Books of Airs_ [circ. 1613]. + _The Third and Fourth Book of Airs_ [circ. 1613]. + +CARLTON, RICHARD. _Madrigals to five voices_, 1601. + +COPRARIO, JOHN. _Funeral Tears for the death of the Right +Honourable the Earl of Devonshire_, 1606. + +CORKINE, WILLIAM. _Airs to sing and play to the Lute and Bass-viol_, +1610. + _The Second Book of Airs_, 1612. + +DANYEL, JOHN. _Songs for the Lute, Viol, and Voice_, 1606. + +DOWLAND, JOHN. _The First Book of Songs or Airs of four +parts_, 1597. + _The Second Book of Songs or Airs, of two, four, and five +parts_, 1600. + _The Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs_, 1603. + _A Pilgrims Solace_, 1612. + +DOWLAND, ROBERT. _A Musical Banquet furnished with +variety of delicious Airs_, 1610. + +EARSDEN, JOHN and MASON, GEORGE. _The Airs that were +sung and played at Brougham Castle in Westmoreland_, +1618. + +EGERTON, MS. 2013. + +ESTE, MICHAEL. _Madrigals to three four and five parts_, 1604. + +FARMER, JOHN. _The first set of English Madrigals to four +voices_, 1599. + +FARNABY, GILES. _Canzonets to four voices_, 1598. + +FORD, THOMAS. _Music of sundry kinds_, 1607. + +GIBBONS, ORLANDO. _The first set of Madrigals and Mottets_, +1612. + +GREAVES, THOMAS. _Songs of sundry kinds_, 1604. + +JONES, ROBERT. _The first took of Airs_, 1601. + _The second book of Songs and Airs_, 1601. + _Ultimum Vale, or the third book of Airs_, 1608. + _A Musical Dream, or the Fourth Book of Airs_, 1609. + +LICHFILD, HENRY. _The first set of Madrigals to five parts_, +1614. + +MAYNARD, JOHN. _The XII wonders of the world_, 1611. + +MORLEY, THOMAS. _Canzonets or little short songs to three +voices_, 1593. + _Madrigals to four voices_, 1594; 1600. + _The first book of Ballets to five voices_, 1595. + +MUNDY, JOHN. _Songs and Psalms_, 1594. + +PEERSON, MARTIN. _Mottects, or grave chamber-music_, 1630. + +PILKINGTON, FRANCIS. _The first Book of Songs or Airs_, 1605. + _The First Set of Madrigals and Pastorals_, 1613. + _The Second Set of Madrigals_, 1624. + +RAVENSCROFT, THOMAS. _Pammelia; Music's Miscellany or +mixed variety of Pleasant Roundelays_, 1609. + _Deuteromelia; or the second part of Music's Melody_, 1609. + _Melismata; Musical Fancies fitting the court, city, and +country humours_, 1611. + _Brief Discourse of the true use of Charact'ring the Degrees, +&c._, 1614. + +ROSSETER, PHILIP and CAMPION, THOMAS. + _A Book of Airs_, 1601. + +TOMKINS, THOMAS. _Songs of three, four, five, and six parts_, +1622. + +VAUTOR, THOMAS. _The First Set: being songs of divers Airs +and Natures, of five and six parts_, 1619. + +WARD, JOHN. _The First Set of English Madrigals to three, +four, five and six parts_, 1613. + +WEELKES, THOMAS. _Madrigals to three, four, five and six +voices_, 1597. + _Ballets and Madrigals to five voices_, 1598. + _Madrigals of five and six parts_, 1600. + _Madrigals of six parts_, 1600. + _Airs or Fantastic Spirits for three voices_, 1608. + +WILBYE, JOHN. _The First Set of English Madrigals to three, +four, five and six voices_, 1598. + _The Second Set of English Madrigals to three, four, five +and six voices_, 1609. + +YONGE, NICHOLAS. _Musica Transalpina: the Second Book of +Madrigals to five and six voices_, 1597. + +YOULL, HENRY. _Canzonets to three voices_, 1608. + + + CHISWICK PRESS:--C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO. + TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES + +Greek has been transliterated in this version of the e-text, and is +surrounded by braces, {like this}. + +A caret (^) is used to indicate a superscript in "S^r W. R." + +"... land in Kent (Malismata)" corrected to "Melismata". + +"... full of all heavenby fire" corrected to "heavenly fire". + +"She of my love and I of hers had failed" corrected to "failèd". + +Minor punctuation omissions have been silently corrected. + +Inconsistencies in the spelling and hyphenation of words between +different songs have been retained. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lyrics from the Song-Books of the +Elizabethan Age, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LYRICS *** + +***** This file should be named 27129-8.txt or 27129-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/1/2/27129/ + +Produced by Bethanne M. 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