So long as I was in your sight

I was your heart, your soul, and treasure;
And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd
Burning in flames beyond all measure:

-Three days endured your love to me,
And it was lost in other three!
Adieu Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love,
Unture Love, untrue Love, adieu Love;
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.

Another Shepherd you did see

To whom your heart was soon enchained;
Full soon your love was leapt from me,
Full soon my place he had obtained.

Soon came a third, your love to win,
And we were out and he was in.

Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love,
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love;
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.

Sure you have made me passing glad
That you your mind so soon removéd,
Before that I the leisure had
To choose you for my best beloved:

For all your love was past and done
Two days before it was begun :—
Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love,
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love;
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.

45

ANTHONY MUNDAY

[1553-1663]

BEAUTY BATHING

BEAUTY sat bathing by a spring

Where fairest shades did hide her;
The winds blew calm, the birds did sing,
The cool streams ran beside her.

My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye
To see what was forbidden:
But better memory said, fie!

So vain desire was chidden :-
Hey nonny nonny O!
Hey nonny nonny!

Into a slumber then I fell,

When fond imagination

Seeméd to see, but could not tell

Her feature or her fashion.
But, ev'n as babes in dreams do smile,
And sometimes fall a-weeping,
So I awaked, as wise this while
As when I fell a-sleeping:-

Hey nonny nonny O!

Hey nonny nonny!

46

RICHARD EDWARDES

[1523-1566]

AMANTIUM IRAE

IN going to my naked bed as one that would have slept,
I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept;
She sighed sore and sang full sweet, to bring the babe to

rest,

That would not cease but crièd still, in sucking at her breast.
She was full weary of her watch, and grievèd with her child,
She rocked it and rated it, till that on her it smiled.
Then did she say, Now have I found this proverb true to
prove,

The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.

Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write,
In register for to remain of such a worthy wight:
As she proceeded thus in song unto her little brat,
Much matter utter'd she of weight, in place whereas she sat:

And proved plain there was no beast, nor creature bearing life, Could well be known to live in love without discord and strife:

Then kissèd she her little babe, and sware by God above, The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.

She said that neither king nor prince nor lord could live aright,

Until their puissance they did prove, their manhood and their might.

When manhood shall be matched so that fear can take no place,

Then weary works make warriors each other to embrace, And left their force that failed them, which did consume

the rout,

That might before have lived their time, their strength and nature out:

Then did she sing as one that thought no man could her

reprove,

The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.

She said she saw no fish nor fowl, nor beast within her haunt,

That met a stranger in their kind, but could give it a taunt: Since flesh might not endure, but rest must wrath succeed, And force the fight to fall to play in pasture where they feed,

So noble nature can well end the work she hath begun, And bridle well that will not cease her tragedy in some: Thus in song she oft rehearsed, as did her well behove, The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.

I marvel much pardy (quoth she) for to behold the rout, To see man, woman, boy and beast, to toss the world about: Some kneel, some crouch, some beck, some check, and some can smoothly smile.

And some embrace others in arm, and there think many a

wile,

Some stand aloof at cap and knee, some humble and some

stout,

Yet are they never friends in deed until they once fall out: Thus ended she her song and said, before she did remove, The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.

47

SIR WALTER RALEIGH
[1552 (?)-1618]

HIS PILGRIMAGE

GIVE me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
My bottle of salvation,

My gown of glory, hope's true gage;
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.

Blood must be my body's balmer;

No other balm will there be given;
Whilst my soul, like quiet palmer,

Travelleth towards the land of heaven;
Over the silver mountains,

Where spring the nectar fountains:
There will I kiss

The bowls of bliss;

And drink mine everlasting fill

Upon every milken hill.

My soul will be a-dry before;

But, after, it will thirst no more.

Then by that happy blissful day,
More peaceful pilgrims I shall see,
That have cast off their rags of clay,
And walk apparelled fresh like me.
I'll take them first

To quench their thirst
'And taste of nectar suckets,

At those clear wells

Where sweetness dwells,

Drawn up by saints in crystal buckets.

78

And when our bottles and all we
Are filled with immortality,

Then the blessed paths we'll travel,
Strowed with rubies thick as gravel;
Ceilings of diamonds, sapphire floors,
High walls of coral and pearly bowers.
From thence to heaven's bribeless hall,
Where no corrupted voices brawl;
No conscience molten into gold,

No forged accuser bought or sold,
No cause deferred, no vain-spent journey,
For there Christ is the king's Attorney,
Who pleads for all without degrees,
And He hath angels, but no fees.
And when the grand twelve-million jury
Of our sins, with direful fury,

Against our souls black verdicts give,
Christ pleads His death, and then we live.

Be Thou my speaker, taintless pleader,
Unblotted lawyer, true proceeder!
Thou givest salvation even for alms;
Not with a bribed lawyer's palms.

And this is mine eternal plea

To Him that made heaven, earth, and sea,

That, since my flesh must die so soon,

And want a head to dine at noon,

Just at the stroke, when my veins start and spread,
Set on my soul an everlasting head!

Then am I ready, like a palmer fit,

To tread those blest paths which before I writ.

Of death and judgment, heaven and hell,
Who oft doth think, must needs die well.

THE LIE

Go, Soul, the body's guest,
Upon a thankless arrant:

Fear not to touch the best;

The truth shall be thy warrant: