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IHE PASSIONATE PILGRIM.
Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth!
Sweet Cytberea, sitting by a brook,
IV. Venus with young Adonis sitting by her, Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him : She told the youngling how god Mars did try her, And as he fell to her, so fell she to him. "Even thus," quoth she, “the warlike god embraced
And then she clipped Adonis in her arms : “Even thus," quoth she, “the warlike god unlaced
me;" As if the boy should use like loving charms : “Even thus," quoth she," he seized on my lips," And with her lips on his did act the seizure; And as she fetched breath, away he skips, And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure. Ah! that I had my lady at this bay, To kiss and chip me till I run away!
II. Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn, And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade, When Cytherea, all in love forlorn, A longing tarriance for Adonis made, Under an osier growing by a brook, A brook where Adon used to cool his spleen : Hot was the day; she hotter that did look For his approach that often there had been. Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by, And stood stark naked on the brook's green brim; The sun looked on the world with glorious eye, Yet not so wistly as this queen on him : He spying her, bounced in whereas he stood; “O Jove," quoth she, “why was I not a flood ?"
III. Fair was the morn when the fair queen of lors,
Crabbéd age and youth
Cannot live together ; Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care : Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather : Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare.
Youth is nimble, age is lame,
Youth is wild, and age is tame.
O, my love, my love is young:
For methinks thou stay'st too long.
Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove,
Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely plucked, soon faded,
dreadful thunder, Plucked in the bud, and faded in the spring !
Which (not to anger bent) is music and sweet fire Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely shaded ! Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong. Fair creature, killed too soon by death's sharp sting! To sing the heavens' praise with such an earthly Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree,
tongue. And falls, through wind, before the fall should be. I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have ;
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good, For why? thou left'st me nothing in thy will.
A shining gloss that fadeth suddenly; And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave;
A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud; For why? I cravéd nothing of thee still :
A brittle glass that's broken presently; O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee :
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.
And as good lost are seld or never found,
As faded gloss no rubbing will refresh, Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty;
As flowers dead lie withered on the ground, Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle, As broken glass no cement can redress, Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty:
So beauty blemished once for ever's lost, A lily pale with damask die to grace her,
In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost. None fairer nor none falser to deface her.
XI. Her lips to mine how often hath she joined, Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share: Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing! She bade good night that kept my rest away; How many tales to please me hath she coined, And daffed me to a cabin hanged with care Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing! To descant on the doubts of my decay. . Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings,
"Farewell," quoth she, "and come again to-morme;" Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings. Fare well I could not for I supped with sorio. She burned with love as straw with fire flameth;
Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile, She burned out love as soon as straw out-burneth ;
In scorn or friendship nill I construe whether : She framed the love and yet she foiled the framing;
'T may be she joyed to jest at my exíle. She bade love last and yet she fell a turning,
'T may be again to make me wander thither ; Was this a lover, or a lecher, whether ?
Wander, a word for shadows like thyself,
As take the pain but cannot pluck the pelf.
Lord how mine eyes throw gazes to the east ! 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
My heart doth charge the watch ; the inorning rise Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest. Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes, A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
While Philomela sits and sings I sit and mark, Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
And wish her lays were tunéd like the lark; My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love ; Thy grace being gained cures all disgrace in me. For she doth welcome day-light with her ditty. My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is ;
And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night: Then thou fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, The night so packed, I post unto my pretty; Exhal'st this vapour vow; in thee it is :
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sigli: If broken, then it is no fault of mine.
Sorrow changed to solace, solace mixed with somn. If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
For why? she sighed, and bade me come to-moto To break an oath to win a paradise ?
Were I with her the night would post too soon ; IX.
But now are minutes added to the hours ; If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love ?
To spite me now each minute seems a inoon ; 0, never faith could hold if not to beauty vowed :
Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll constant prove; Pack night, peep day, good day of night now borse Those thoughts to me like oaks to thee like osiers bowed. Short, night, to-night, and length thyself to-moto Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art can comprehend. If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of the Well learnéd is that tongue that well can thee commend; ' That likéd of her master as well as well might be All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; | Till looking on an Englishman the fairest eye could ses Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire ; Her fancy fell a turning
Long was the combat doubtful, that love with love
did fight, To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant knight: To put in practice either, alas it was a spite
Unto the silly damsel.
But one must be refused, more mickle was the pain, That nothing could be used to turn them both to gain, For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with
disdain ; Alas, she could not help it! Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day, Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away; Then lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay;
gay: For now my song is ended.
Heart is bleeding,
Fraughted with gall!
My sighs so deep,
Procure to weep,
How sighs resound
Through harkless ground, Like a thousand vanquished men in bloody fight!
XIV. On a day (alack the day !) Love, whose month was ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair, Playing in the wanton air : Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen, 'gan passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wished himself the heaven's breath. “ Air," quoth he, “thy cheeks may blow; Air, would I might triumph so! But alas! my hand hath sworn Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn : Vow, alack, for youth unmeet; Youth so apt to pluck a sweet. Do not call it sin in me, That I am forsworn for thee; Thou for whom Jove would swear Juno but an Ethiop were ; And deny himself for Jove, Turning mortal for thy love."
Clear wells spring not
Farewell, sweet lass,
Thy like ne'er was For a sweet content, the cause of all my moan
Must live alone, Other help for him I see that there is none.
Take counsel of some wiser head,
All is amiss:
Causer of this.
One silly cross
Wrought all my loss; O frowning fortune, cursed, fickle dame!
For now I see,
In black mourn I,
Living in thrall :
And when thou com'st thy tale to tell,
But plainly say thou lov'st her well,
And set thy person forth to sell. And to her will frame all thy ways; Spare not to spend, -and chiefly there Where thy desert may merit praise, By ringing always in her ear:
The strongest castle, tower, and town,
The golden bullet beats it down.
When time shall serve be thou not slack
What though her frowning brows be bent,
And twice desire, ere it be day,
That with such scorn she put away. What though she strive to try her strength, And ban and brawl, and say thee nay, Her feeble force will yield at length, When craft hath taught her thus to say,
“ Had women been so strong as men,
In faith you had not had it then." The wiles and guiles that women work, Dissembled with an outward show, The tricks and toys that in them lurk, The cock that treads them shall not know.
Have you not heard it said full oft
A woman's nay doth stand for nought? Think, women love to match with men, And not to live so like a saint: Ilere is no heaven; they holy then Begin when age doth them attaint.
Were kisses all the joys in bed,
One woman would another wed.
Yet will she blush, here be it said,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
Lights that do mislead the morn :
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
Are of those that April wears :
Let the priest in surplice white,
THRENOS. Beauty, truth, and rarity, Grace in all simplicity, Here inclosed in cinders lie. Death is now the phonix' nest; And the turtle's loyal breast To eternity doth rest, Leaving no posterity :-"T was not their infirmity, It was married chastity. Truth may seem, but cannot be ; Beauty brag, but 't is not she; Truth and beauty buried be. To this urn let those repair That are either true or fair ; For these dead birds sigh a prayer.