V

Eftsoones her shallow ship away

did slide,

More swift then swallow sheres the liquid skye,
Withouten oare or Pilot it to guide,

Or winged canvas with the wind to fly :
Onely she turnd a pin, and by and by
It cut away upon the yielding wave,
Ne cared she her course for to apply;

For it was taught the way which she would have,
And both from rocks and flats it selfe could wisely save.

VI

And all the way the wanton Damsell found
New merth her passenger to entertaine;
For she in pleasaunt purpose did abound,
And greatly joyèd merry tales to faine,

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Of which a store-house did with her remaine:
Yet seemèd, nothing well they her became ;
For all her wordes she drownd with laughter vaine,
And wanted grace in utt'ring of the same,
That turned all her pleasaunce to a scoffing game.

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VII

And other whiles vaine toyes she would devize,
As her fantasticke wit did most delight:
Sometimes her head she fondly would aguize
With gaudy girlonds, or fresh flowrets dight
About her necke, or rings of rushes plight:
Sometimes, to do him laugh, she would assay
To laugh at shaking of the leavès light
Or to behold the water worke and play
About her little frigot, therein making way.

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VIII

Her light behaviour and loose dalliaunce
Gave wondrous great contentment to the knight,
That of his way he had no sovenaunce,

Nor care of vow'd revenge and cruell fight,
But to weake wench did yield his martiall might:
So easie was to quench his flamèd minde
With one sweete drop of sensuall delight,
So easie is t'appease the stormy winde

Of malice in the calme of pleasaunt woman-kind.

IX

Diverse discourses in their way they spent ; Mongst which Cymochles of her questioned Both what she was, and what that usage ment, Which in her cott she daily practizèd?

'Vaine man,' (saide she) that wouldest be reckonèd A straunger in thy home, and ignoraunt.

Of Phædria, (for so my name is red)

Of Phædria, thine owne fellow servaunt ;

For thou to serve Acrasia thy selfe doest vaunt.

X

In this wide Inland sea, that hight by name The Idle lake, my wandring ship I row,

That knowes her port, and thither sayles by ayme,

Ne care, ne feare I how the wind do blow,

Or whether swift I wend, or whether slow:

Both slow and swift alike do serve my tourne;
Ne swelling Neptune ne lowd thundring Jove
Can chaunge my cheare, or make me ever mourne:
My little boat can safely passe this perilous bourne.'

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ΧΙ

Whiles thus she talked, and whiles thus she toyd,
They were far past the passage which he spake,
And come unto an Island waste and voyd,
That floated in the midst of that great lake;
There her small Gondelay her port did make,
And that gay payre, issewing on the shore,
Disburdned her. Their way they forward take
Into the land that lay them faire before,

Whose pleasaunce she him shewd, and plentifull great store.

XII

It was a chosen plott of fertile land,
Emongst wide waves sett, like a litle nest,
As if it had by Natures cunning hand
Bene choycely picked out from all the rest,
And laid forth for ensample of the best:

ΙΟΟ

No daintie flowre or herbe that growes on grownd,

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No arborett with painted blossomes drest.

And smelling sweete, but there it might be fownd

To bud out faire, and throwe her sweete smels al arownd.

XIII

No tree whose braunches did not bravely spring;

No braunch whereon a fine bird did not sitt ;

No bird but did her shrill notes sweetely sing;
No song but did containe a lovely ditt.

Trees, braunches, birds, and songs, were framèd fitt
For to allure fraile mind to carelesse ease:
Carelesse the man soone woxe, and his weake witt
Was overcome of thing that did him please;
So pleased did his wrathfull purpose faire appease.

ENG. POEMS-4

IIO

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XIV

Thus when shee had his eyes and sences fed With false delights, and fild with pleasures vayn, Into a shady dale she soft him led,

And layd him downe upon a grassy playn;

And her sweete self without dread or disdayn
She sett beside, laying his head disarmd
In her loose lap, it softly to sustayn,

Where soone he slumbred fearing not be harmd:
The whiles with a love lay she thus him sweetly charmd.

XV

'Behold, O man! that toilesome paines doest take, The flowrs, the fields, and all that pleasaunt growes, How they them selves doe thine ensample make, Whiles nothing envious nature them forth throwes Out of her fruitfull lap; how no man knowes. They spring, they bud, they blossome fresh and faire, And decke the world with their rich pompous showes; Yet no man for them taketh paines or care, Yet no man to them can his carefull paines compare.

XVI

'The lilly, Lady of the flowring field,

The flowre-deluce, her lovly Paramoure,

Bid thee to them thy fruitlesse labors yield,

And soone leave off this toylsome weary stoure:

Loe, loe! how brave she decks her bounteous boure,
With silkin curtens and gold coverletts,

Therein to shrowd her sumptuous Belamoure;
Yet nether spinnes nor cards, ne cares nor fretts,
But to her mother Nature all her care she letts.

XVII

Why then doest thou, O man! that of them all
Art Lord, and eke of nature Soveraine,
Wilfully make thyselfe a wretched thrall,

And waste thy joyous howres in needelesse paine,
Seeking for daunger and adventures vaine?
What bootes it al to have, and nothing use?

Who shall him rew that swimming in the maine

Will die for thirst, and water doth refuse?

Refuse such fruitlesse toile, and present pleasures chuse.'

XVIII

By this she had him lullèd fast asleepe,

That of no worldly thing he care did take:

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Then she with liquors strong his eies did steepe,
That nothing should him hastily awake.

So she him lefte, and did her selfe betake
Unto her boat again, with which she clefte
The slouthfull wave of that great griesy lake:
Soone shee that Island far behind her lefte,

And now is come to that same place where first she wefte.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY

1554-1586

A DITTY

My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for the other given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a bargain better driven:
My true love hath my heart, and I have his.

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