THE MEANS TO ATTAIN HAPPY LIFE.

MARTIAL, the things that do attain

The happy life be these, I find:

The riches left, not got with pain,
The fruitful ground, the quiet mind,

The equal friend, no grudge, no strife,
No charge of rule nor governance;
Without disease, the healthful life;
The household of continuance;

The mean diet, no delicate fare;

True wisdom joined with simpleness;
The night dischargèd of all care,

Where wine the wit may not oppress.

The faithful wife, without debate1;

Such sleeps as may beguile the night;
Contented with thine own estate,

Ne wish for death, ne fear his might.

SIR THOMAS WYATT.

(1503-1542.)

FORGET NOT YET.

FORGET not yet the tried intent

Of such a truth as I have meant2;
My great travail so gladly spent,
Forget not yet!

Forget not yet when first began

The weary

life ye know, since whan

The suit, the service none tell can;

Forget not yet!

1 quarrelling.

fidelity as I have shown.

Forget not yet the great assays1,
The cruel wrong, the scornful ways,
The painful patience in delays.
Forget not yet!

Forget not! oh! forget not this,
How long ago hath been, and is
The mind that never meant amiss,
Forget not yet!

Forget not then thine own approved,
The which so long hath thee so loved,
Whose steadfast faith yet never moved:
Forget not yet!

AN EARNEST SUIT TO HIS UNKIND MISTRESS NOT TO FORSAKE HIM.

ND wilt thou leave me thus?

AND

Say nay! say nay! for shame!
To save thee from the blame
Of all my grief and grame2.
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus?
That hath lov'd thee so long?
In wealth and woe among
And is thy heart so strong
As for to leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus?
That hath given thee my heart
Never for to depart;

Neither for pain nor smart:

And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus,
And have no more pity,

Of him that loveth thee?

Alas! thy cruelty!

And wilt thou leave me thus?

Say nay! say nay!

"THE LOVER SHEWETH HOW HE IS FORSAKEN OF SUCH AS HE SOMETIME ENJOYED."

THEY flee from me, that sometime did me seek,

With naked foote stalking within my chamber:
Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
That now are wild, and do not once remember
That sometime they have put themselves in danger1,
To take bread at my hand; and now they range,
Busily seeking in continual change.

Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwise,
Twenty times better; but once especial,
In thin array, after a pleasant guise,

When her loose gown did from her shoulders fall
And she me caught in her armes long and small2,
And therewithal, so sweetly did me kiss,
And softly said, 'Dear heart, how like you this?'

It was no dream; for I lay broad awaking:
But all is turned now through my gentlenesse,
Into a bitter fashion of forsaking;

And I have leave to go of her goodnesse;

And she also to use newfanglenesse.
But, since that I unkindly so am served,

How like you this; what hath she now deserved?

1 in my power.

(M 349)

2 slender.

F

GEORGE GASCOIGNE.

(1530?-1577.)

THE LULLABY OF A LOVER.

Gascoigne wrote much in lyrical measures in the period immediately preceding the advent of Spenser and Sidney. His poems are contained in volume ii. of Chalmers' collection, and there is a modern edition of his works by W. C. Hazlitt (Roxburghe Library, 1869, 2 vols.). The selection is from Gascoigne's Hundred Sundry Flowers, 1572.

SING Lullaby, as women do,

Wherewith they bring their babes to rest,

And Lullaby can I sing too,

As womanly as can the best.

With Lullaby they still the child,
And if I be not much beguiled,
Full many wanton babes have I,
Which must be stilled with Lullaby.
First Lullaby my youthful years,
It is now time to go to bed,
For crooked age and hoary heares1,

Have won the haven within my head:
With Lullaby then youth be still,
With Lullaby content thy will,

Since courage quails, and comes behind,
Go sleep, and so beguile thy mind.
Next Lullaby my gazing eyes,
Which wonted were to glance apace;
For every glass may now suffice,
To shew the furrows in my face:
With Lullaby then wink2 awhile,
With Lullaby your looks beguile:
Let no fair face, nor beauty bright,
Entice you eft with vain delight.

And Lullaby my wanton will;

Let reason's rule now reign thy thought,
Since all too late I find by skill,

How dear I have thy fancies bought;

With Lullaby now take thine ease,
With Lullaby thy doubts appease;

For trust to this, if thou be still,
My body shall obey thy will.

Thus Lullaby my youth, mine eyes,
My will, my ware, and all that was,
I can no mo delays devise,

But welcome pain, let pleasure pass
With Lullaby now take your leave,
With Lullaby your dreams deceive,
And when you rise with waking eye,
Remember then this Lullaby.

GEORGE TURBERVILE.

(1530?-1595?)

THE LOVER TO HIS LADY THAT GAZED MUCH UP TO THE SKIES.

These four lines are a translation of the well-known epigram ascribed to Plato. Turbervile's lyrical verse appeared in 1570 as Epitaphs, Epigrams, Songes and Sonets. Reprinted in volume ii. of Chalmers' Poets.

MY Girl, thou gazest much
Upon the golden skies:

Would I were Heaven, I would behold
Thee then with all mine eyes.