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Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part.
So either by the picture of my love,
Thyself away, are present still with me;
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them, and they with thee.
Or if they fleep, thy picture in my fight
Awakes my heart, to heart's and eyes delight.
How careful was I, when I took my way
Each trifle under truest bars to thrust;
That to my use it might unused stay
From hands of falfhood, in sure wards of trust?
But thou, to whom my jewels trifes are,
Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief:
Thou best of deareft, and mine only care,
Are left the prey of every vulgar thief.
Thee have I not lock'd
Save where thou art not; tho’ I feel thou art
Within the gentle closure of my breaft,
From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part;
And even thence thou wilt be stoln, I fear;
For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.
Against that time (if ever that time come)
When I shall see thee frown on my defects;
Whenas thy love hath cast his utmost sum,
Call'd to that audit by advis'd respects :
Against that time, when thou shalt strangely pass,
And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye ;
When love, converted from the thing it was,
Shall reasons find of settled gravity :
Against that time, do I insconce me here,
Within the knowledge of mine own desert;
And this my hand against myself up-rear,
To guard the lawful reasons on thy part;
To leave poor me, thou haft the strength of laws,
Since why to love, I can alledge no cause.
It was a lording's daughter,
The faireft one of three,
That liked of her master, as well as well might be:
Till looking on an Englishman,
The faireft eye could see,
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
To put in practice either,
[knight; 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
For of the two the trusty knight
[gain : 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 goth the lady gay:
For now my song is ended.
On a day (alack the day!)
Love, whose month was ever May,
Spy'd a blossom passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air.
Thro’ the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passage find,
That the lover (fick to death)
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air (quoth he) thy cheeks may blow;
Air ! would I might triumph fo!
But (alas !) my hand hath sworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy throne;
Vow, (alack !) for youth unmeet,
Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet ;
Thou, for whom ev'n Fove would swear
Juno but an Æthiop were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.
My flocks feed not, my ewes breed not,
My rams speed not; all is amifs :
Love is dying, faith's defying,
Heart's denying, causer of this.
All my merry jigs are quite forgot,
All my lady's love is loft (God wot)
Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love,
There a nay is plac'd, without remove.
One filly crois wrought all my loss;
O! frowning fortune, cursed fickle dame!
For now I fee inconstancy
More in women than in men remain.
In black mourn I, all fears scorn I,
Love hath forlorn me living in thrall;
Heart is bleeding, all help needing;
O! cruel speeding, fraughted with gall!
My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal
My weather's bell rings doleful knell ;
My curtail dog, that wont to have play'd,
Plays not at all, but seems afraid.
With fighs so deep, procures to weep
In howling wise, to see my doleful plight;
How fighs resound thro' heartless ground,
Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody fight.
Clear wells spring not, sweet birds fing not,
Green plants bring not forth their dye;
Herds stand weeping, flocks all sleeping,
Nymphs black peeping fearfully.
All our pleasure known to us poor swains;
All our merry meetings on the plains;
All our evening sport from us is filed;
All our love is loft, for love is dead.
Farewell, sweet love, thy like ne'er was,
For a sweet content, the cause of all my woe;
Poor Coridon muft live alone,
Other help for him, I fee, that there is none.
hath chose the dame,
And ftall'd the deer that thou should'ft strike;
Let reason rule things worthy blame,
As well as fancy (partly all might)
Take counsel of some wiser head,
Neither too young, nor yet unwed.
And when thou com'st thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk;
Left she some fubtle practice smell :
A cripple foon can find a halt.
But plainly fay, thou lov'st her well,
And fet her person forth to sale.
What tho' her frowning brows be bent,
Her cloudy looks will calm ere night;
And then too late she will repent,
That thus diffembled her delight;
And twice desire, ere it be day,
That which with scorn she put away.
What tho’ 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. And to her will frame all thy ways, Spare not to spend, and chiefly there, Where thy desert may merit praise, By ringing in thy lady's ear: