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FROM MORANDO, THE TRITAMERON OF LOVE. (ed. 1587.)

THE DESCRIPTION OF SILVESTRO'S LADY.

Her stature like the tall straight cedar trees,

Whose stately bulks do* fame th' Arabian groves;

A pace like princely Juno when she brav'd

The Queen of love 'fore Paris in the vale;

A front beset with love and courtesy;

A face like modest Pallas when she blush'd

A seely shepherd should be beauty's j udge;

A lip sweet ruby-red, grac'd with delight;

A cheek wherein for interchange of hue

A wrangling strife twixt lily and the rose;

Her eyes two twincklingf stars in winter nights,

When chilling frost doth clear the azur'd sky;

Her hair of golden hue doth dim the beams

That proud Apollo giveth from his coach;

The Gnidian doves, whose white and snowy pens

Do J stain the silver-streaming ivory,

May not compare with those two moving hills,

Which topp'd with pretty teats discover § down a vale,

Wherein the god of love may deign to sleep;

A foot like Thetis when she tripp'd the sands

To steal Neptunus' favour with her|| steps;

A piece despite of beauty fram'd,

To show what nature's lineage could afford.

do] The 4to. " doth."

t twinckling] The 4to. "tincklhig."

t do] The 4to. "doth."

§ discover] The 4to. " discovers."

her] The 4to. "his."

LACENA'S RIDDLE.

The man whose method haugeth by the moon,

And rules his diet by geometry;
Whose restless mind rips up his mother's breast,

To part her bowels for his family;
And fetcheth Pluto's glee in fro the grass

By careless cutting of a goddess' gifts;
That throws his gotten labour to the earth,

As trusting to content for others' shifts: 'Tis he, good sir, that Saturn best did please,

When golden world set worldlings all at ease;

His name is Person, and his progeny,

Now tell me, of what ancient pedigree.

VERSES

UNDER THE PICTURE OF FORTUNE.

The fickle seat whereon proud Fortune sits,

The restless globe whereon the fury stands, Bewrays her fond and far inconstant fits;

The fruitful horn she handleth in her hands, Bids all beware to fear her flattering smiles, That giveth most when most she meaneth guiles; The wheel that turning never taketh rest,

The top whereof fond worldlings count their bliss, Within a minute makes a black exchange,

And then the vild and lowest better is; Which emblem tells us the inconstant state Of such as trust to Fortune or to Fate.

FROM MENAPHON.*

(ED. 1589, COMPARED WITH ED. 1616.)

APOLLO'S ORACLE.

When Neptune riding on the southern seas,
Shall from the bosom of his lemanf yield

Th' Arcadian wonder, men and gods to please,
Plenty in pride shall march amidst the field;

Dead men shall war, and unborn babes shall frown,

And with their falchions hew their foemen down.

When lambs have lions for their surest guide,
And planets rest upon th' Arcadian hills,

When swelling seas have neither ebb nor tide,
When equal banks the ocean margin fills;

Then look, Arcadians, for a happy time,

And sweet content within your troubled clime.

* It appeared afterwards under the title of Arcadia.
t lemari] See note * p. 192.

MENAPHON'S SONG.

Some say, Love,
Foolish Love,

Doth rule and govern all the Gods:
I say Love,
Inconstant Love,

Sets men's senses far at odds.
Some swear Love,
Smooth-fac'df Love,

Is sweetest sweet that men can have:
I say, Love,
Sour Love,

Makes virtue yield as beauty's slave:
A bitter sweet, a folly worst of all,
That forceth wisdom to be folly's thrall.

Love is sweet:
Wherein sweet?

In fading pleasures that do pain.
Beauty sweet:
Is that sweet,

That yieldeth sorrow for a gain?
If Love's sweet,
Herein sweet

That minutes' joys are monthly woes:
'Tis not sweet,
That is sweet

Nowhere, but where repentance grows. Then love who list, if beauty be so sour; Labour for me, Love rest in prince's bower.

* smooth-fac'df Both 4tos. " smooth'd face."

SEPHESTIA'S SONG TO HER CHILI).

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.

Mother's wag, pretty boy,

Father's sorrow, father's joy;

When thy father first did see

Such a boy by him and me,

He was glad, I was woe,

Fortune changed made him so,

When he left his pretty boy

Last his sorrow, first his joy.

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
Streaming tears that never stint,
Like pearl drops from a flint,
Fell by course from his eyes,
That one another's place supplies;
Thus he griev'd in every part,
Tears of blood fell from his heart,
When he left his pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy.

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.

The wanton smil'd, father wept,

Mother cried, baby leapt;

More he crow'd, more we cried,

Nature could not sorrow hide:

He must go, he must kiss

Child and mother, baby bless,

For he left his pretty boy,

Father's sorrow, father's joy. Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.

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