THE SHEPHERD'S ODE.
WALKING in a valley green,
Spread with Flora, summer-queen,
Where she heaping all her graces,
Niggard seem'd in other places;
Spring it was, and here did spring
All that nature forth can bring.
Groves of pleasant trees there grow,
Which fruit and shadow could bestow :
Thick-leav'd boughs small birds cover,
Till sweet notes themselves discover;
Tunes for number seem'd confounded,
Whilst their mixtures music * sounded,
'Greeing well, yet not agreed

That one the other should exceed.
A sweet stream here silent glides,
Whose clear water no fish hides;
Slow it runs, which well bewray'd
The pleasant shore the current stay'd.
In this stream a rock was planted,
Where no art nor nature wanted.
Each thing so did other grace,
As all places may give place;
Only this the place of pleasure,
Where is heaped nature's treasure.
Here mine eyes with wonder stay'd;
Eyes amaz'd, and mind afraid,
Ravish'd with what was beheld,
From departing were withheld.
Musing then with sound advice
On this earthly paradise;
Sitting by the river-side,
Lovely Phillis was descried.
Gold her hair, bright her eyne,
Like to Phoebus in his shine;
White her brow, her face was fair;
Amber breath perfum'd the air;
Rose and lily both did seek

To show their glories on her cheek;
Love did nestle in her looks,
Baiting there his sharpest hooks.
Such a Phillis ne'er was seen,
More beautiful than Love's Queen:
Doubt it was, whose greater grace,
Phillis' beauty, or the place.
Her coat was of scarlet red,
All in plaits; a mantle spread,

Fring'd with gold; a wreath of boughs
To check the sun from her brows;
In her hand a shepherd's hook,
In her face Diana's look.

Her sheep grazèd on the plains:

She had stolen from the swains;

* music] The 4to. "musickes."

Under a cool silent shade,

By the streams, she garlands made:
Thus sat Phillis all alone.
Miss'd she was by Coridon,
Chiefest swain of all the rest;
Lovely Phillis lik'd him best.
His face was like Phœbus' love;
His neck white as Venus' dove;

A ruddy cheek, fill'd with smiles,
Such Love hath when he beguiles;
His locks* brown, his eyes were grey,
Like Titan in a summer-day :
A russet jacket, sleeves red;
A blue bonnet on his head;
A cloak of grey + fenc'd the rain;
Thus 'tirèd was this lovely swain;
A shepherd's hook, his dog tied;
Bag and bottle by his side:
Such was Paris, shepherds say,
When with Enone he did play.
From his flock stray'd Coridon,
Spying Phillis all alone;
By the stream he Phillis spied,
Braver than was Flora's pride.
Down the valley 'gan he track,
Stole behind his true-love's back;
The sun shone, and shadow made,
Phillis rose, and was afraid;
When she saw her lover there,
Smile she did, and left her fear.
Cupid, that disdain doth loath,
With desire strake them both.
The swain did woo; she was nice,
Following fashion, nay'd him twice:
Much ado he kiss'd her then;
Maidens blush when they kiss men;
So did Phillis at that stowre; +
Her face was like the rose-flower.
Last they 'greed, for love would so,
Faith and troth, they would no mo; §
For shepherds ever held it sin,
To false the love they lived in.
The swain gave a girdle red;
She set garlands on his head :
Gifts were given; they kiss again;
Both did smile, for both were fain.
Thus was love 'mongst shepherds sold
When fancy knew not what was gold:
They woo'd, and vow'd, and that they keep,
And go contented to their sheep.

*locks] The 4to. "lookes."

A cloak of grey, &c.] See note, p. 158, first col. stowre] See note*, p. 290, sec. col.

§ mo] i. e. more.

FROM

PHILOMELA, THE LADY FITZWATER'S NIGHTINGALE.

(ED. 1615.)

PHILOMELA'S ODE THAT SHE SUNG

IN HER ARBOUR.

SITTING by a river's side,

Where a silent stream did glide,
Muse I did of many things
That the mind in quiet brings.
I gan think how some men deem
Gold their god; and some esteem
Honour is the chief content
That to man in life is lent;
And some others do contend,
Quiet none like to a friend;
Others hold, there is no wealth
Compared to a perfect health;
Some man's mind in quiet stands
When he is lord of many lands:
But I did sigh, and said all this
Was but a shade of perfect bliss;
And in my thoughts I did approve,
Naught so sweet as is true love.
Love 'twixt lovers passeth these,
When mouth kisseth and heart 'grees,
With folded arms and lips meeting,
Each soul another sweetly greeting;
For by the breath the soul fleeteth,
And soul with soul in kissing meeteth.
If love be so sweet a thing,

That such happy bliss doth bring,
Happy is love's sugar'd thrall;
But unhappy maidens all,
Who esteem your virgin blisses
Sweeter than a wife's sweet kisses.

No such quiet to the mind
As true love with kisses kind:
But if a kiss prove unchaste,
Then is true love quite disgrac'd.
Though love be sweet, learn this of me,
No love sweet but honesty.

PHILOMELA'S SECOND ODE. IT was frosty winter-season, And fair Flora's wealth was geason.t Meads that erst with green were spread, With choice flowers diap'red,

virgin] The 4to. "virgins." geason] i. e. rare, uncommon.

Had tawny veils; cold had scanted * What the spring + and nature planted. Leafless boughs there might you see, All except fair Daphne's tree: On their twigs no birds perch'd; Warmer coverts now they search'd; And by nature's secret reason, Fram'd their voices to the season, With their feeble tunes bewraying How they griev'd the spring's decaying. Frosty winter thus had gloom'd Each fair thing that summer bloom'd; Fields were bare, and trees unclad, Flowers wither'd, birds were sad: § When I saw a shepherd fold Sheep in cote, to shun the cold. Himself sitting on the grass, That with frost wither'd was, Sighing deeply, thus gan say; "Love is folly when astray: Like to love no passion such, For 'tis | madness, if too much; If too little, then despair; If too high, he beats the air With bootless cries; if too low, An eagle matcheth with a crow: Thence grow jars. Thus I find, Love is folly, if unkind; Yet do men most desire To be heated with this fire, Whose flame is so pleasing hot, That they burn, yet feel it not. Yet hath love another kind, Worse than these unto the mind; That is, when a wanton eye Leads desire clean awry, And with the bee doth rejoice Every minute to change choice, Counting he were then in bliss, If that each fair face I were his. Highly thus is** love disgrac'd, When the lover is unchaste, And would taste of fruit forbidden, 'Cause the scape is easily hidden. Though such love be sweet in brewing, Bitter is the end ensuing;

For the honour ++ of love he shameth, And himself with lust defameth;

For a minute's pleasure gaining,
Fame and honour ever staining.
Gazing thus so far awry,
Last the chip falls in his eye;

Then it burns that erst but heat him,
And his own rod gins to beat him;}
His choicest sweets turn to gall;
He finds lust his sin's thrall;
That wanton women in their eyes
Men's deceivings do comprise;
That homage done to fair faces
Doth dishonour other graces.
If lawless love be such a sin,
Curs'd is he that lives therein,
For the gain of Venus' game
Is the downfall unto shame."
Here he paus'd, and did stay;
Sigh'd, and rose, and went away.

SONNET.

ON Women Nature did bestow two eyes,

Like heaven's bright lamps, in matchless beauty

shining,

Whose beams do soonest captivate the wise,
And wary heads, made rare by art's refining.
But why did Nature, in her choice combining,
Plant two fair eyes within a beauteous face,
That they might favour two with equal grace?
Venus did soothe up Vulcan with one eye,
With th'other granted Mars his wished glee:
If she did so who Hymen + did defy,
Think love no sin, but grant an eye to me;
In vain else Nature gave two stars to thee:
If then two eyes may well two friends maintain,
Allow of two, and prove not Nature vain.

ANSWER.

NATURE foreeseing how men would devise
More wiles than Proteus, women to entice,
Granted them two, and those bright-shining eyes,
To pierce into men's faults if they were wise;
For they with show of virtue mask their vice:
Therefore to women's eyes belong these gifts,
The one must love, the other see men's shifts.

Both these await upon one simple heart,
And what they choose, it hides up without
change.

The emerald will not with his portrait part,
Nor will a woman's thoughts delight to range;
They hold it bad to have so base exchange:
One heart, one friend, though that two eyes do
choose him,

No more but one, and heart will never lose him.

AN ODE.

WHAT is love once disgrac'd,
But a wanton thought ill plac'd?
Which doth blemish whom it paineth,
And dishonours whom it deigneth;
Seen in higher powers most,
Though some fools do fondly boast,
That whoso is high of kin
Sanctifies his lover's sin.

Jove could not hide Io's scape,

Nor conceal Calisto's rape:

Both did fault, and both were fram'd
Light of loves, whom lust had sham'd.
Let not women trust to men;
They can flatter now and then,
And tell them many wanton tales,
Which do breed their after-bales.
Sin in kings is sin, we see,

And greater sin 'cause great of gree;
Majus peccatum, this I read,
If he be high that doth the deed.
Mars, for all his deity,
Could not Venus dignify,

*

But Vulcan trapp'd her, and her blame

Was punish'd with an open shame :
All the gods laugh'd them to scorn
For dubbing Vulcan with the horn.
Whereon may a woman boast,

If her chastity be lost?
Shame await'th upon her face,
Blushing checks and foul disgrace:
Report will blab, this is she
That with her lust wins infamy.
If lusting love be so disgrac'd,
Die before you live unchaste;
For better die with honest fame,
Than lead a wanton life with shame.

*heaven's] The 4to. "Hemians."

t who Hymen] The 4to. "whom Heimens." men's] The 4to. "man's."

*gree] i. e. degree.

"Women are sweets that salve men's sourest ills;
Women are saints, their virtues are so rare;
Obedient souls that seek to please men's wills;
Such love with faith, such jewels women are:
Thetis is such, and more if more may be;
Thetis is sick, then what may comfort me?"

With that he div'd into the coral waves,
To see his love, with all his watery slaves:
The dolphin swam; yet this I learned then,
Fair women are rich jewels unto men.

SONNET.

CUPID abroad was lated in the night,
His wings were wet with ranging in the rain;
Harbour he sought, to me he took his flight,
To dry his plumes: I heard the boy complain;
I op'd the door, and granted his desire,
I rose myself, and made the wag a fire.

Looking more narrow by the fire's flame,

I spied his quiver hanging by his back: Doubting the boy might my misfortune frame, I would have gone for fear of further wrack; But what I drad, did me poor wretch betide, For forth he drew an arrow from his side.

He pierc'd the quick, and I began to start,

A pleasing wound, but that it was too high; His shaft procur'd a sharp, yet sugar'd smart: Away he flew, for why his wings were dry; But left the arrow sticking in my breast, That sore I griev'd I welcom'd such a guest.

FROM

PENELOPE'S WEB. (ED. 1601.)

SONNET FROM ARIOSTO.

THE sweet content that quiets angry thought,
The pleasing sound of household harmony,
The physic that allays what fury wrought,

The huswife's means to make true melody,
Is not with simple, harp, or worldly pelf,
But smoothly by submitting of herself.
Juno, the queen and mistress of the sky,
When angry Jove did threat her with a frown,
Caus'd Ganymede for nectar fast to hie,

With pleasing face to wash such choler down; For angry husbands find the soonest ease, When sweet submission choler doth appease.

The laurel that impales the head with praise, The gem that decks the breast of ivory, The pearl that's orient in her silver rays,

The crown that honours dames with dignity; No sapphire, gold, green bays, nor margarite, But due obedience worketh this delight.

BARMENISSA'S SONG.

THE stately state that wise men count their good,
The chiefest bliss that lulls asleep desire,
Is not descent from kings and princely blood,
Ne stately crown ambition doth require;
For birth by fortune is abasèd down,
And perils are compris'd within a crown.

The sceptre and the glittering pomp of mace,

The head impal'd with honour and renown, The kingly throne, the seat and regal place,

Are toys that fade when angry Fortune frown: Content is far from such delights as those, Whom woe and danger do envý as foes.

The cottage seated in the hollow dale,

That Fortune never fears because so low, The quiet mind that want doth set to sale,

Sleeps safe when princes seats do overthrow : Want smiles secure when princely thoughts do feel That fear and danger tread upon their heel.

Bless Fortune thou whose frown hath wrought thy good,

Bid farewell to the crown that ends thy care; The happy Fates thy sorrows have withstood By 'signing want and poverty thy share: For now Content, fond Fortune to despite, With patience 'lows thee quiet and delight.

VERSES.

ASPIRING thoughts led Phaethon amiss;
Proud Icarus did fall, he soar'd so high;
Seek not to climb with fond Semiramis,

Lest son revenge the father's injury:
Take heed, ambition is a sugar'd ill,
That Fortune lays, presumptuous minds to spill.

The bitter grief that frets the quiet mind,

The sting that pricks the froward man to woe, Is envy, which in honour seld we find,

And yet to honour sworn a secret foe: Learn this of me, envy not others' state; The fruits of envy are envý and hate.