The Passionate Pilgrim, XI.

“Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her”

VENUS, with young Adonis sitting by her   
Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him:   
She told the youngling how god Mars did try her,   
And as he fell to her, so fell she to him.   
‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘the war-like god embrac’d me,’            5
And then she clipp’d Adonis in her arms;   
‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘the war-like god unlac’d me,’   
As if the boy should use like loving charms.   
‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘he seized on my lips,’   
And with her lips on his did act the seizure;     10
And as she fetched breath, away he skips,   
And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure.   
  Ah! that I had my lady at this bay,   
  To kiss and clip me till I run away.

The Passionate Pilgrim, XII.

“Crabbed age and youth cannot live together”

CRABBED age and youth cannot live together:   
Youth is full of pleasure, age is full of care;   
Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather;   
Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare.   
Youth is full of sport, age’s breath is short;            5
  Youth is nimble, age is lame;   
Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold;   
  Youth is wild, and age is tame.   
Age, I do abhor thee, youth, I do adore thee;   
  O! my love, my love is young:     10
Age, I do defy thee: O! sweet shepherd, hie thee,   
  For methinks thou stay’st too long.   

The Passionate Pilgrim, XIII.

“Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good”

BEAUTY is but a vain and doubtful good;   
A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly;   
A flower that dies when first it ’gins to bud;   
A brittle glass that ’s broken presently:   
  A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,            5
  Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour.   
 
And as goods lost are seld or never found,   
As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh,   
As flowers dead lie wither’d on the ground,   
As broken glass no cement can redress,     10
  So beauty blemish’d once ’s for ever lost,   
  In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.   

The Passionate Pilgrim, XIV.

“Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share”

GOOD night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share:   
She bade good night that kept my rest away;   
And daff’d me to a cabin hang’d with care,   
To descant on the doubts of my decay.   
  ‘Farewell,’ quoth she, ‘and come again to-morrow:’            5
  Fare well I could not, for I supp’d with sorrow.   
 
Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,   
In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether:   
’T may be, she joy’d to jest at my exile,   
’T may be, again to make me wander thither:     10
  ‘Wander,’ a word for shadows like myself,   
  As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.   
 
Lord! how mine eyes throw gazes to the east;   
My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise   
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.     15
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,   
  While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,   
  And wish her lays were tuned like the lark;   
 
For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty,   
And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night:     20
The night so pack’d, I post unto my pretty;   
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight;   
  Sorrow chang’d to solace, solace mix’d with sorrow;   
  For why, she sigh’d and bade me come to-morrow.   
 
Were I with her, the night would post too soon;     25
But now are minutes added to the hours;   
To spite me now, each minute seems a moon;   
Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers!   
  Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now borrow:   
  Short, night, to-night, and length thyself to-morrow.     30

Sonnets to Sundry Notes of Music, I.

“It was a lording’s daughter, the fairest one of three”

IT was a lording’s daughter, the fairest one of three,   
That liked of her master as well as well might be,   
Till looking on an Englishman, the fair’st that eye could see,   
  Her fancy fell a-turning.   
 
Long was the combat doubtful that love with love did fight,            5
To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant knight:   
To put in practice either, alas! it was a spite   
  Unto the silly damsel.   
 
But one must be refused; more mickle was the pain   
That nothing could be used to turn them both to gain,     10
For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with disdain:   
  Alas! she could not help it.   
 
Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day,   
Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away;   
Then lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay;     15
  For now my song is ended.   

Sonnets to Sundry Notes of Music, II.

“On a day, alack the day!”

ON a day, alack the day!   
Love, whose month was ever May,   
Spied a blossom passing fair,   
Playing in the wanton air:   
Through the velvet leaves the wind,            5
All unseen, ’gan passage find;   
That the lover, sick to death,   
Wish’d himself the heaven’s breath.   
‘Air,’ quoth he, ‘thy cheeks may blow;   
Air, would I might triumph so!     10
But, alas! my hand hath sworn   
Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn:   
Vow, alack! for youth unmeet:   
Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet.   
Thou for whom Jove would swear     15
Juno but an Ethiop were;   
And deny himself for Jove,   
Turning mortal for thy love.’   

Sonnets to Sundry Notes of Music, III.

“My flocks feed not”

MY flocks feed not,   
My ewes breed not,   
My rams speed not,   
  All is amiss:   
Love ’s denying,            5
Faith ’s defying,   
Heart ’s renying,   
  Causer of this.   
All my merry jigs are quite forgot,   
All my lady’s love is lost, God wot:     10
Where her faith was firmly fix’d in love,   
There a nay is plac’d without remove.   
One silly cross   
Wrought all my loss;   
  O! frowning Fortune, cursed, fickle dame;     15
For now I see   
Inconstancy   
  More in women than in men remain.   
 
In black mourn I,   
All fears scorn I,     20
Love hath forlorn me,   
  Living in thrall:   
Heart is bleeding,   
All help needing,   
O! cruel speeding,     25
  Fraughted with gall.   
My shepherd’s pipe can sound no deal,   
My wether’s bell rings doleful knell;   
My curtal dog, that wont to have play’d,   
Plays not at all, but seems afraid;     30
My sighs so deep   
Procures to weep,   
  In howling wise, to see my doleful plight.   
How sighs resound   
Through heartless ground,     35
  Like a thousand vanquish’d men in bloody fight!   
 
Clear well spring not,   
Sweet birds sing not,   
Green plants bring not   
  Forth their dye;     40
Herds stand weeping,   
Flocks all sleeping,   
Nymphs back peeping   
  Fearfully:   
All our pleasure known to us poor swains,     45
All our merry meetings on the plains,   
All our evening sport from us is fled,   
All our love is lost, for Love is dead.   
Farewell, sweet lass,   
Thy like ne’er was     50
  For a sweet content, the cause of all my moan:   
Poor Corydon   
Must live alone;   
  Other help for him I see that there is none.   

Sonnets to Sundry Notes of Music, IV.

“Whenas thine eye hath chose the dame”

WHENAS thine eye hath chose the dame,   
And stall’d the deer that thou should’st strike,   
Let reason rule things worthy blame,   
As well as fancy, partial wight:   
  Take counsel of some wiser head,            5
  Neither too young nor yet unwed.   
 
And when thou com’st thy tale to tell,   
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,   
Lest she some subtle practice smell;   
A cripple soon can find a halt:     10
  But plainly say thou lov’st her well,   
  And set thy person forth to sell.   
 
What though her frowning brows be bent,   
Her cloudy looks will calm ere night;   
And then too late she will repent     15
That thus dissembled her delight;   
  And twice desire, ere it be day,   
  That which with scorn she put away.   
 
What though she strive to try her strength,   
And ban and brawl, and say thee nay,     20
Her feeble force will yield at length,   
When craft hath taught her thus to say,   
  ‘Had women been so strong as men,   
  In faith, you had not had it then.’   
 
And to her will frame all thy ways;     25
Spare not to spend, and chiefly there   
Where thy desert may merit praise,   
By ringing in thy lady’s ear:   
  The strongest castle, tower, and town,   
  The golden bullet beats it down.     30
 
Serve always with assured trust,   
And in thy suit be humble true;   
Unless thy lady prove unjust,   
Seek never thou to choose anew.   
  When time shall serve, be thou not slack     35
  To proffer, though she put thee back.   
 
The wiles and guiles that women work,   
Dissembled with an outward show,   
The tricks and toys that in them lurk,   
The cock that treads them shall not know.     40
  Have you not heard it said full oft,   
  A woman’s nay doth stand for nought?   
 
Think women love to match with men   
And not to live so like a saint:   
Here is no heaven; they holy then     45
Begin when age doth them attaint.   
  Were kisses all the joys in bed,   
  One woman would another wed.   
 
But, soft! enough! too much, I fear;   
For if my mistress hear my song,     50
She will not stick to ring my ear,   
To teach my tongue to be so long:   
  Yet will she blush, here be it said,   
  To hear her secrets so bewray’d.   

Sonnets to Sundry Notes of Music, V.

“Live with me, and be my love”

LIVE with me, and be my love,   
And we will all the pleasures prove   
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,   
And all the craggy mountains yields.   
 
There will we sit upon the rocks,            5
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,   
By shallow rivers, by whose falls   
Melodious birds sing madrigals.   
 
There will I make thee a bed of roses,   
With a thousand fragrant posies,     10
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle   
Embroider’d all with leaves of myrtle.   
 
A belt of straw and ivy buds,   
With coral clasps and amber studs;   
And if these pleasures may thee move,     15
Then live with me and be my love.   
 
LOVE’S ANSWER

If that the world and love were young,   
And truth in every shepherd’s tongue,   
These pretty pleasures might me move,   
To live with thee and be thy love.     20

Sonnets to Sundry Notes of Music, VI.

“As it fell upon a day”

AS it fell upon a day   
In the merry month of May,   
Sitting in a pleasant shade   
Which a grove of myrtles made,   
Beasts did leap, and birds did sing,            5
Trees did grow, and plants did spring;   
Every thing did banish moan,   
Save the nightingale alone:   
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,   
Lean’d her breast up-till a thorn,     10
And there sung the dolefull’st ditty,   
That to hear it was great pity:   
‘Fie, fie, fie!’ now would she cry;   
‘Tereu, Tereu!’ by and by;   
That to hear her so complain,     15
Scarce I could from tears refrain;   
For her griefs, so lively shown,   
Made me think upon mine own.   
Ah! thought I, thou mourn’st in vain,   
None takes pity on thy pain:     20
Senseless trees they cannot hear thee,   
Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee:   
King Pandion he is dead,   
All thy friends are lapp’d in lead,   
All thy fellow birds do sing     25
Careless of thy sorrowing.   
Even so, poor bird, like thee,   
None alive will pity me.   
Whilst as fickle Fortune smil’d,   
Thou and I were both beguil’d.     30
  Every one that flatters thee   
Is no friend in misery.   
Words are easy, like the wind;   
Faithful friends are hard to find:   
Every man will be thy friend     35
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend;   
But if store of crowns be scant,   
No man will supply thy want.   
If that one be prodigal,   
Bountiful they will him call,     40
And with such-like flattering,   
‘Pity but he were a king.’   
If he be addict to vice,   
Quickly him they will entice;   
If to women he be bent,     45
They have him at commandement:   
But if Fortune once do frown,   
Then farewell his great renown;   
They that fawn’d on him before   
Use his company no more.     50
He that is thy friend indeed,   
He will help thee in thy need:   
If thou sorrow, he will weep;   
If thou wake, he cannot sleep:   
Thus of every grief in heart     55
He with thee does bear a part.   
These are certain signs to know   
Faithful friend from flattering foe.