Then scale thee here:" the joyful fly up-flings, And sate safe shadow'd with the eagle's wings.

DORON'S DESCRIPTION OF HIS FAIR

SHEPHERDESS SAMELA.

From the same.

LIKE to Diana in her summer weed,

Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye,
Goes fair Samela.

Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed,
When wash'd by Arethusa, faint they lie,
Is fair Samela.

As fair Aurora in her morning grey,

Deck'd with the ruddy glister of her Love,
Is fair Samela.

Like lovely Thetis on a calmed day,

When as her brightness Neptune's fancies move, Shines fair Samela.

Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassy streams;

Her teeth are pearl; the breasts are ivory

Of fair Samela.

Her cheeks like rose and lilly yield forth gleams,

Her brows bright arches fram'd of ebony,

Thus fair Samela

Passeth fair Venus in her brightest hue,

And Juno, in the shew of majesty; (For she's Samela,)

Pallas in wit: all three if you well view,

For beauty, wit, and matchless dignity,
Yield to Samela.

PHILLIDA AND CORIDON.

By Nicholas Breton.

In the merry month of May,
In a morn by break of day,
Forth I walk'd by the wood-side,

When as May was in his pride:

There I spyed, all alone,

Phillida and Coridon.

Much-ado there was, God wot;

He would love and she would not.
She said, "Never man was true:"
He said, "None was false to you:"

He said, "He had lov'd her long:"

She said, "Love should have no wrong."

Coridon would kiss her then;

She said, "Maids must kiss no men,

Till they did for good and all:"
Then she made the shepherd call

All the heavens to witness truth:
Never lov'd a truer youth.

Thus with many a pretty oath,
Yea and nay, and faith and troth,
Such as silly shepherds use

When they will not Love abuse,

Love which had been long deluded:

Was with kisses sweet concluded.

And Phillida with garlands gay

Was made the lady of the May.

A PASTORAL OF PHILLIS AND CORIDON.

By the same.

On a hill there grows a flower,

Fair befall the dainty sweet:

By that flower there is a bower,
Where the heavenly Muses meet.

It is Phillis fair and bright,

She that is the shepherd's joy: She that Venus did despight,

And did blind her little boy.

This is she, the wise, the rich,

That the world desires to see:

This is ipsa quæ, the which,
There is none but only she.

Who would not this face admire?

Who would not this saint adore?

Who would not this sight desire,

Though he thought to see no more?

Oh fair eyes, yet let me see

One good look, and I am gone:

Look on me, for I am he,

Thy poor silly Coridon.

Thou, that art the shepherd's queen,

Look upon thy silly swain:

By thy comfort have been seen

Dead men brought to life again!

See how my little flock,

That lov'd to feed on high,

Do headlong tumble down the rock, And in the valley die.

The bushes and the trees

That were so fresh and green,

Do all their dainty colour lees,
And not a leaf is seen.

The blackbird and the thrush,

That made the woods to ring,