CANZONE.

As then the sun sat lordly in his pride, Not shadow'd with the veil of any cloud, The welkin had no rack that seem'd to glide, No dusky vapour did bright Phoebus shroud; No blemish did eclipse the beauteous sky From setting forth heaven's secret searching eye. No blustering wind did shake the shady trees, Each leaf lay still and silent in the wood; The birds were musical; the labouring bees, That in the summer heap* their winter's good, Plied to their hives sweet honey from those flowers, Whereout the serpent strengthens all his

powers. The lion laid and stretch'd him in the lawns; No storm did hold the leopard fro his prey; The fallow fields were full of wanton fawns; The plough-swains never saw a fairer day; For every beast and bird did take delight, To see the quiet heavens to shine so bright. When thus the winds lay sleeping in the caves, The air was silent in her concave sphere, And Neptune with a calm did please his slaves, Ready to wash the never-drenched bear; Then did the change of my affects begin, And wanton love assay'd to snare me in. Leaning my back against a lofty pine, Whose top did check the pride of all the air, Fixing my thoughts, and with my thoughts mine

eyne,

Upon the sun, the fairest of all fair;

What thing made God so fair as this, quoth I?
And thus I mus'd until I dark'd mine eye.

heap] The 4to. "heapes."

Finding the sun too glorious for my sight, I glanc'd my look to shun so bright a lamp : With that appear'd* an object twice as bright, So gorgeous as my senses all were damp; † In Ida richer beauty did not win,

When lovely Venus shew'd her silver skin.
Her pace was like to Juno's pompous strains,
Whenas she sweeps through heaven's brass-paved

way;

Her front was powder'd through with azur'd veins, That 'twixt sweet roses and fair lilies lay, Reflecting such a mixture from her face, As tainted Venus' beauty with disgrace. Arctophylax, the brightest of the stars, Was not so orient as her crystal eyes, Wherein triumphant sat both peace and wars, From out whose arches such sweet favour flies, As might reclaim Mars in his highest rage, At beauty's charge his fury to assuage.

The diamond gleams not more reflecting lights, Pointed with fiery pyramids to shine,

Than are those flames that burnish in our sights, Darting fire out the crystal of her eyne, Able to set Narcissus' thoughts on fire, Although he swore him foe to sweet desire. Gazing upon this leman || with mine eye, I felt my sight vail bonnet to her looks; So deep a passion to my heart did fly, As I was trapt within her luring hooks,¶ Forc'd to confess, before that I had done, Her beauty far more brighter than the sun.

appear'd] The 4to. "

appeare." + damp] The 4to. " dampt." favour] The 4to. "favours." S pointed] The 4to. " painted." leman] See note * p. 192.

hooks] The 4to. "lookes," but compare line 9 of page 54.

INFIDA'S SONG.

SWEET Adon, dar'st not glance thine eye

N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?— Upon thy Venus that must die?

Je vous en prie, pity me;
N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel,
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?

See how sad thy Venus lies,-
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?-
Love in heart, and tears in eyes;
Je vous en prie, pity me;
N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel,
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?

Thy face as fair as Paphos' brooks,—
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?—
Wherein fancy baits her hooks;
Je vous en prie, pity me;
N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel,
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?

Thy cheeks like cherries that do grow-
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?—
Amongst the western mounts of snow;
Je vous en prie, pity me;
N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel,
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?

Thy lips vermilion, full of love,-
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?-
Thy neck as silver-white as dove ;
Je vous en prie, pity me;
N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel,
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?

Thine eyes, like flames of holy fires,—
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?-

Burn* all my thoughts with sweet desires;
Je vous en prie, pity me;
N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel,
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?

All thy beauties sting my heart ;-
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?
I must die through Cupid's dart;
Je vous en prie, pity me;
N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel,
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?

Wilt thou let thy Venus die?
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?-

Adon were unkind, say I,—
Je vous en prie, pity me;
N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel,
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?

To let fair Venus die for woe,

N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?-
That doth love sweet Adon so;
Je vous en prie, pity me;
N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel,
N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?

FRANCESCO'S ROUNDELAY.t

SITTING and sighing in my secret muse,
As once Apollo did surpris'd with love,
Noting the slippery ways young years do use,
What fond affects the prime of youth do‡ move;

*Burn] The 4to. "Burnes."

+ Inserted in Hynd's Eliosto Libidinoso, 1606, p. 91, as "borrowed of a worthy writer."

do] The 4to. "doth."

With bitter tears, despairing I do cry,
Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!
When wanton age, the blossoms of my time,
Drew me to gaze upon the gorgeous sight,
That beauty, pompous in her highest prime,
Presents to tangle men with sweet delight,
Then with despairing tears my thoughts do cry,
Wo worth the faults and foilies of mine eye!

When I survey'd the riches of her looks,

Whereout flew flames of never-quench'd desire, Wherein lay baits that Venus snares with hooks, Or* where proud Cupid sate all arm'd with fire; Then touch'd with love my inward soul did cry, Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye! The milk-white galaxia of her brow,

Where love doth dance lavoltas of his skill,
Like to the temple where true lovers vow
To follow what shall please their mistress' will;
Noting her ivory front, now do I cry,

Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!
Her face, like silver Luna in her shine,

All tainted through with bright vermilion strains,†
Like lilies dipt in Bacchus' choicest wine,
Powder'd and interseam'd with azur'd veins;
Delighting in their pride, now may I cry,
Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!
The golden wires that checker in the day
Inferior to the tresses of her hair,

Her amber trammels did my heart dismay, That when I look'd I durst not over-dare; Proud of her pride, now am I forc'd to cry Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye! These fading beauties drew me on to sin, Nature's great riches fram'd my bitter ruth; These were the traps that love did snare me in, *Or] The 4to. "Oh." + strains] Qy. "stains."

t checker] The 4to. "checkers."