AN ELIZABETHAN MISCELLANY THE age of Elizabeth is famous in English literature not only for the great names of Spenser and Shakespeare, but for the number and excellence of its minor poets. England was at that time, as some one has prettily said, "a nest of singing birds." There is hardly a kind of poetry in which these writers did not do work of a very high order. The most distinctive production of the age was, of course, the drama; but of this it is impossible to give any specimens here. Next to the drama, however, the greatest achievement of these poets was in the lyric, or short song. The latter part of Elizabeth's reign saw a great outburst of music, particularly of song music. The lute, the favorite instrument of the day, was in the hands of almost every one. Songs were called for everywhere, at court, in the theater, in the taverns, in the very barber shops, where a lute hung on the wall to beguile the leisure moments of the waiting customers. The most popular books of the day were collections of songs and sonnets. The favorite romances of the time contained numbers of charming lyrics, and the reader of Shakespeare's plays will remember how often and how delightfully the dialogue is broken by a song. The collection here printed is meant to give some faint idea, not only of the beauty, but also of the wide range, of this lyric outburst. Between Sidney's simple ditty and the heroic ballad and the passionate sonnet of Michael Drayton, we find love songs, bridal songs, morning songs, and meditations on death, written in widely varying metrical forms, and conceived in wholly different tempers. They were not all set to music and sung; but all of them have what was the common property of the poets of that age, the singing note. Even now the verses seem to sing themselves. And it is this quality, even more than their simplicity, freshness, directness, and lovely imagery, that renders these old songs so charming to the lover of English poetry. MY TRUE LOVE HATH MY HEART My true love hath my heart, and I have his, My true love hath my heart, and I have his. His heart in me keeps him and me in one, My true love hath my heart, and I have his. 5 IO PHILIP SIDNEY. ROSALIND'S MADRIGAL LOVE in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet: Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, My kisses are his daily feast; Ah, wanton, will ye? If I sleep, then percheth he With pretty flight, And makes his pillow of my knee The livelong night. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string; 5 10 15 He lends me every lovely thing: Else I with roses every day Will whip you hence, And bind you, when you long to play, For your offence. I'll shut mine eyes to keep you in, 20 Heaven is our heritage, Lord have mercy on us! THOMAS NASH. 40 THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE COME live with me, and be my love, And we will sit upon the rocks, And I will make thee beds of roses A gown made of the finest wool A belt of straw and ivy-buds, |