His flocks are folded; he comes home at night As merry as a king in his delight, And merrier, too; For kings bethink them what the State require, He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat For kings have often tremours when they sup, Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound More sounder, too; For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill, Thus with his wife he spends the year as blithe For kings have wars and broils to take in hand, Robert Greene. IX. PHILLIDA AND CORYDON. IN the merry month of May, Phillida and Corydon. Much ado there was, God wot! He would love, and she would not: She said, never man was true: Corydon would kiss her then, Thus, with many a pretty oath, Nicholas Breton. X. SEND back my long-stray'd eyes to me, Keep the deceivers, keep them still. Send home my harmless heart again, Which no unworthy thought could stain; But if it has been taught by thine To forfeit both Its word and oath, Keep it, for then 'tis none of mine. Yet send me back my heart and eyes, Of one the scorn, Who proves as false as thou art now. John Donne. XI. WOMAN'S INCONSTANCY. I LOVED thee once, I'll love no more, Nothing could have my love o'erthrown, When new desires had conquer'd thee, It had been lethargy in me, Not constancy to love thee still. Yet do thou glory in thy choice,- I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice Sir Robert Ayton. XII. A VALENTINE. WHEN slumber first unclouds my brain, And sense refresh'd renews her reign,— When next in prayer to God above I bend my knee, Then when I pray for those I love,— And when the duties of the day To rise and journey on life's way,- Or if, perchance, I sing some lay, Whate'er it be; All that the idle verses say, They say of thee. If of an eye whose liquid light Gleams like the sea, They sing, or tresses brown and bright,— They sing of thee. And if a weary mood, or sad, Possesses me, One thought can all times make me glad,— The thought of thee. And when once more upon my bed, Full wearily, In sweet repose I lay my head, I dream of thee. In short, one only wish I have, To live for thee; Or gladly if one pang 'twould save,— I'd die for thee. Unknown. XIII. SINCE first I saw your face I resolved My heart I had never known you. And cannot disentangle ! If I admire or praise you too much, No, no, no, I'll love you still, The sun, whose beams most glorious are, And thy sweet beauty, past compare, I leave my heart behind me. Unknown. XIV. As at noon Dulcina rested In her sweet and shady bower, A wound he took So deep, that for a further boon Whereto she says, "Forego me now, come to me soon." |