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A shepherd's hook, his dog tied ;
Bag and bottle by his side:
Such was Paris, shepherds say,
When with none he did play.
From his flock stray'd Coridon,
Spying Phillis all alone;

By the stream he Phillis spied,
Braver than was Flora's pride.
Down the valley 'gan he track,
Stole behind his true love's back;
The sun shone, and shadow made,
Phillis rose and was afraid;
When she saw her lover there,
Smile she did, and left her fear.
Cupid, that disdain doth loath,
With desire strake them both.
The swain did woo; she was nice,
Following fashion, nay'd him twice:
Much ado, he kiss'd her then ;
Maidens blush when they kiss men;
So did Phillis at that stowre;*
Her face was like the rose flower.
Last they 'greed, for love would so,
'Faith and troth they would no mo;
For shepherds ever held it sin,
To false the love they lived in.
The swain gave a girdle red;
She set garlands on his head:
Gifts were given; they kiss again;
Both did smile, for both were fain.
Thus was love 'mongst shepherds sold,
When fancy knew not what was gold:

They woo'd and vow'd, and that they keep,
And go contented to their sheep.

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301

FROM PHILOMELA, THE LADY FITZWATER'S NIGHTINGALE.

(ED. 1615.)

PHILOMELA'S ODE THAT SHE SUNG IN HER ARBOUR.

SITTING by a river's side,

Where a silent stream did glide,
Muse I did of many things,
That the mind in quiet brings.
I 'gan think how some men deem
Gold their god; and some esteem
Honour is the chief content,

That to man in life is lent.
And some others do contend,
Quiet none, like to a friend.
Others hold, there is no wealth
Compared to a perfect health.
Some man's mind in quiet stands,
When he is lord of many lands:
But I did sigh, and said all this
Was but a shade of perfect bliss;
And in my thoughts I did approve,
Nought so sweet as is true love.
Love 'twixt lovers passeth these,
When mouth kisseth and heart 'grees,
With folded arms and lips meeting,
Each soul another sweetly greeting;
For by the breath the soul fleeteth,
And soul with soul in kissing meeteth,
If love be so sweet a thing,
That such happy bliss doth bring,

Happy is love's sugar'd thrall,
But unhappy maidens all,
Who esteem your virgin* blisses
Sweeter than a wife's sweet kisses.
No such quiet to the mind,
As true love with kisses kind:
But if a kiss prove unchaste,
Then is true love quite disgrac'd.
Though love be sweet, learn this of me,
No love sweet but honesty.

PHILOMELA'S SECOND ODE.

It was frosty winter season,

And fair Flora's wealth was geason.†
Meads that erst with green were spread,
With choice flowers diap❜red,

Had tawny veils; cold had scanted
What the springs and nature planted.
Leafless boughs there might you see,
All except fair Daphne's tree:
On their twigs no birds perch'd;
Warmer coverts now they search'd;
And by nature's secret reason,
Fram'd their voices to the season,
With their feeble tunes bewraying,
How they griev'd the spring's decaying.
Frosty winter thus had gloom'd

Each fair thing that summer bloom'd;
Fields were bare, and trees unclad,

Flowers wither'd, birds were sad :||
When I saw a shepherd fold
Sheep in cote, to shun the cold.

* virgin] The 4to. " virgins."

t geason] i. e. rare, uncommon,-said to be an Essex word. scanted] The 4to. "scatter'd."

Snow] The 4to. "none."

sad] The 4to. "had."

Himself sitting on the grass,
That with frost wither'd was,
Sighing deeply, thus 'gan say;
Love is folly when astray:
Like to love no passion such,
For 'tis madness, if too much ;
If too little, then despair;
If too high, he beats the air
With bootless cries; if too low,
An eagle matcheth with a crow:
Thence grow* jars. Thus I find,
Love is folly, if unkind;
Yet do men most desire
To be heated with this fire,
Whose flame is so pleasing hot,
That they burn, yet feel it not.
Yet hath love another kind,
Worse than these unto the mind;
That is, when a wanton's eye
Leads desire clean awry,

And with the bee doth rejoice
Every minute to change choice,
Counting he were then in bliss,
If that each fair fall were his.
Highly thus is + love disgrac'd,
When the lover is unchaste,
And would taste of fruit forbidden,
'Cause the scape is easily hidden.
Though such love be sweet in brewing,
Bitter is the end ensuing;

For the humour of love he shameth,
And himself with lust defameth;
For a minute's pleasure gaining,
Fame and honour ever staining.

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Gazing thus so far awry,

Last the chip falls in his

eye;
Then it burns that erst but heat him,
And his own rod 'gins to beat him ;
His choicest sweets turn to gall;
He finds lust his sin's thrall;
That wanton women in their eyes
Men's deceivings do comprise;
That homage done to fair faces
Doth dishonour other graces.
If lawless love be such a sin,
Curs'd is he that lives therein,
For the gain of Venus' game
Is the downfall unto shame.
Here he paus'd, and did stay;
Sigh'd and rose, and went away.

SONNET.

ON women nature did bestow two eyes,
Like heaven's bright lamps, in matchless beauty
shining,

Whose beams do soonest captivate the wise,
And wary heads, made rare by art's refining.
But why did nature, in her choice combining,
Plant two fair eyes within a beauteous face,
That they might favour two with equal grace?
Venus did soothe up Vulcan with one eye,
With th'other granted Mars his wished glee:
If she did so whom Hymen+ did defy,
Think love no sin, but grant an eye to me;
In vain else nature gave two stars to thee:
If then two eyes may well two friends maintain,
Allow of two, and prove not nature vain.

*heaven's] The 4to. "Hemian's."

+ Hymen] The 4to. "Heimens."

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