She. If ye take heed, it is no needSuch words to say to me;For oft ye prayed, and long assayed,Or I loved you, parde:And though that I of ancestryA baron's daughter be,Yet have you proved how I you loved,A squire of low degree;And ever shall, whatso befallTo die therefore anone;For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.
He. A baron's child to be beguiled,It were a cursed deed!To be felaw with an outlaw—Almighty God forbede!Yet better were the poor squyereAlone to forest yedeThan ye shall say another dayThat by my cursed redeYe were betrayed. Wherefore, good maid,The best rede that I can,Is, that I to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.
She. Whatever befall, I never shallOf this thing be upbraid:But if ye go, and leave me so,Then have ye me betrayed.Remember you wele, how that ye dele;For if ye, as ye said,Be so unkind to leave behindYour love, the Nut-brown Maid,Trust me truly that I shall dieSoon after ye be gone:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.
He. If that ye went, ye should repent;For in the forest nowI have purveyed me of a maidWhom I love more than you:Another more fair than ever ye wereI dare it well avow;And of you both each should be wrothWith other, as I trow:It were mine ease to live in peace;So will I, if I can:Wherefore I to the wood will go,Alone, a banished man.
She. Though in the wood I understoodYe had a paramour,All this may nought remove my thought,But that I will be your':And she shall find me soft and kindAnd courteis every hour;Glad to fulfil all that she willCommand me, to my power:For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,Yet would I be that one:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.
He. Mine own dear love, I see the proveThat ye be kind and true;Of maid, of wife, in all my life,The best that ever I knew.Be merry and glad; be no more sad;The case is changed new;For it were ruth that for your truthYe should have cause to rue.Be not dismayed, whatsoever I saidTo you when I began:I will not to the green-wood go;I am no banished man.
She. These tidings be more glad to meThan to be made a queen,If I were sure they should endure;But it is often seenWhen men will break promise they speakThe wordis on the splene.Ye shape some wile me to beguile,And steal from me, I ween:Then were the case worse than it was,And I more wo-begone:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.
He. Ye shall not nede further to drede:I will not disparageYou (God defend), sith you descendOf so great a linage.Now understand: to Westmoreland,Which is my heritage,I will you bring; and with a ring,By way of marriageI will you take, and lady make,As shortly as I can:Thus have you won an Earles son,And not a banished man.
Here may ye see that women beIn love meek, kind, and stable;Let never man reprove them than,Or call them variable;But rather pray God that we mayTo them be comfortable;Which sometime proveth such as He loveth,If they be charitable.For sith men would that women shouldBe meek to them each one;Much more ought they to God obey,And serve but Him alone.
never a dele] never a bit. than] then. in fere] in company together. rede I can] counsel I know. part with] share with. tho] those. hele] health. yede] went. on the splene] that is, in haste.
Anonymous. 16th Cent.
26. As ye came from the Holy Land
AS ye came from the holy landOf Walsinghame,Met you not with my true loveBy the way as you came?
How should I know your true love,That have met many a oneAs I came from the holy land,That have come, that have gone?
She is neither white nor brown,But as the heavens fair;There is none hath her form divineIn the earth or the air.
Such a one did I meet, good sir,Such an angelic face,Who like a nymph, like a queen, did appearIn her gait, in her grace.
She hath left me here aloneAll alone, as unknown,Who sometime did me lead with herself,And me loved as her own.
What 's the cause that she leaves you aloneAnd a new way doth take,That sometime did love you as her own,And her joy did you make?
I have loved her all my youth,But now am old, as you see:Love likes not the falling fruit,Nor the withered tree.
Know that Love is a careless child,And forgets promise past:He is blind, he is deaf when he list,And in faith never fast.
His desire is a dureless content,And a trustless joy;He is won with a world of despair,And is lost with a toy.
Of womenkind such indeed is the love,Or the word love abused,Under which many childish desiresAnd conceits are excused.
But true love is a durable fire,In the mind ever burning,Never sick, never dead, never cold,From itself never turning.
Anonymous. 16th Cent. (?)
27. The Lover in Winter Plaineth for the Spring
O WESTERN wind, when wilt thou blowThat the small rain down can rain?Christ, that my love were in my armsAnd I in my bed again!
Anonymous. 16th Cent.
28. Balow
BALOW, my babe, lie still and sleep!It grieves me sore to see thee weep.Wouldst thou be quiet I'se be glad,Thy mourning makes my sorrow sad:Balow my boy, thy mother's joy,Thy father breeds me great annoy—Balow, la-low!
When he began to court my love,And with his sugred words me move,His faynings false and flattering cheerTo me that time did not appear:But now I see most cruellyeHe cares ne for my babe nor me—Balow, la-low!
Lie still, my darling, sleep awhile,And when thou wak'st thoo'le sweetly smile:But smile not as thy father did,To cozen maids: nay, God forbid!But yet I fear thou wilt go nearThy father's heart and face to bear—Balow, la-low!
I cannot choose but ever willBe loving to thy father still;Where'er he go, where'er he ride,My love with him doth still abide;In weal or woe, where'er he go,My heart shall ne'er depart him fro—Balow, la-low!
But do not, do not, pretty mine,To faynings false thy heart incline!Be loyal to thy lover true,And never change her for a new:If good or fair, of her have careFor women's banning 's wondrous sare—Balow, la-low!
Bairn, by thy face I will beware;Like Sirens' words, I'll come not near;My babe and I together will live;He'll comfort me when cares do grieve.My babe and I right soft will lie,And ne'er respect man's crueltye—Balow, la-low!
Farewell, farewell, the falsest youthThat ever kist a woman's mouth!I wish all maids be warn'd by meNever to trust man's curtesye;For if we do but chance to bow,They'll use us then they care not how—Balow, la-low!
Anonymous. 16th Cent. (?)
29. The Old Cloak
THIS winter's weather it waxeth cold,And frost it freezeth on every hill,And Boreas blows his blast so boldThat all our cattle are like to spill.Bell, my wife, she loves no strife;She said unto me quietlye,Rise up, and save cow Crumbock's life!Man, put thine old cloak about thee!
He. O Bell my wife, why dost thou flyte?Thou kens my cloak is very thin:It is so bare and over worn,A cricke thereon cannot renn.Then I'll no longer borrow nor lend;For once I'll new apparell'd be;To-morrow I'll to town and spend;For I'll have a new cloak about me.
She. Cow Crumbock is a very good cow:She has been always true to the pail;She has helped us to butter and cheese, I trow,And other things she will not fail.I would be loth to see her pine.Good husband, counsel take of me:It is not for us to go so fine—Man, take thine old cloak about thee!
He. My cloak it was a very good cloak,It hath been always true to the wear;But now it is not worth a groat:I have had it four and forty year'.Sometime it was of cloth in grain:'Tis now but a sigh clout, as you may see:It will neither hold out wind nor rain;And I'll have a new cloak about me.
She. It is four and forty years agoSine the one of us the other did ken;And we have had, betwixt us two,Of children either nine or ten:We have brought them up to women and men:In the fear of God I trow they be.And why wilt thou thyself misken?Man, take thine old cloak about thee!
He. O Bell my wife, why dost thou flyte?Now is now, and then was then:Seek now all the world throughout,Thou kens not clowns from gentlemen:They are clad in black, green, yellow and blue,So far above their own degree.Once in my life I'll take a view;For I'll have a new cloak about me.
She. King Stephen was a worthy peer;His breeches cost him but a crown;He held them sixpence all too dear,Therefore he called the tailor 'lown.'He was a king and wore the crown,And thou'se but of a low degree:It 's pride that puts this country down:Man, take thy old cloak about thee!
He. Bell my wife, she loves not strife,Yet she will lead me, if she can;And to maintain an easy lifeI oft must yield, though I'm good-man.It 's not for a man with a woman to threap,Unless he first give o'er the plea:As we began, so will we keep,And I'll take my old cloak about me.
flyte] scold. cloth in grain] scarlet cloth. sigh clout] a rag for straining. threap] argue.
John Skelton. 1460?-1529
30. To Mistress Margery Wentworth
WITH margerain gentle,The flower of goodlihead,Embroidered the mantleIs of your maidenhead.Plainly I cannot glose;Ye be, as I divine,The pretty primrose,The goodly columbine.
Benign, courteous, and meek,With wordes well devised;In you, who list to seek,Be virtues well comprised.With margerain gentle,The flower of goodlihead,Embroidered the mantleIs of your maidenhead.
margerain] marjoram.
John Skelton. 1460?-1529
31. To Mistress Margaret Hussey
MERRY MargaretAs midsummer flower,Gentle as falconOr hawk of the tower:With solace and gladness,Much mirth and no madness,All good and no badness;So joyously,So maidenly,So womanlyHer demeaningIn every thing,Far, far passingThat I can indite,Or suffice to writeOf Merry MargaretAs midsummer flower,Gentle as falconOr hawk of the tower.As patient and stillAnd as full of good willAs fair Isaphill,Coliander,Sweet pomander,Good Cassander;Steadfast of thought,Well made, well wrought,Far may be sought,Ere that ye can findSo courteous, so kindAs merry Margaret,This midsummer flower,Gentle as falconOr hawk of the tower.
Isaphill] Hypsipyle. coliander] coriander seed, an aromatic. pomander] a ball of perfume. Cassander] Cassandra.
Stephen Hawes. d. 1523
32. The True Knight
FOR knighthood is not in the feats of warre,As for to fight in quarrel right or wrong,But in a cause which truth can not defarre:He ought himself for to make sure and strong,Justice to keep mixt with mercy among:And no quarrell a knight ought to takeBut for a truth, or for the common's sake.
defarre] undo.
Stephen Hawes. d. 1523
33. An Epitaph
O MORTAL folk, you may behold and seeHow I lie here, sometime a mighty knight;The end of joy and all prosperiteeIs death at last, thorough his course and might:After the day there cometh the dark night,For though the daye be never so long,At last the bells ringeth to evensong.
Sir Thomas Wyatt. 1503-1542
34. Forget not yet The Lover Beseecheth his Mistress not to Forget his Steadfast Faith and True Intent
FORGET not yet the tried intentOf such a truth as I have meant;My great travail so gladly spent,Forget not yet!
Forget not yet when first beganThe weary life ye know, since whanThe suit, the service, none tell can;Forget not yet!
Forget not yet the great assays,The cruel wrong, the scornful ways,The painful patience in delays,Forget not yet!
Forget not! O, 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 this!
Sir Thomas Wyatt. 1503-1542
35. The Appeal An Earnest Suit to his Unkind Mistress, not to Forsake him
AND wilt thou leave me thus!Say nay, say nay, for shame!—To save thee from the blameOf all my grief and grame.And wilt thou leave me thus?Say nay! say nay!
And wilt thou leave me thus,That hath loved thee so longIn wealth and woe among:And is thy heart so strongAs for to leave me thus?Say nay! say nay!
And wilt thou leave me thus,That hath given thee my heartNever for to departNeither for pain nor smart:And wilt thou leave me thus?Say nay! say nay!
And wilt thou leave me thus,And have no more pityeOf him that loveth thee?Alas, thy cruelty!And wilt thou leave me thus?Say nay! say nay!
grame] sorrow.
Sir Thomas Wyatt. 1503-1542
36. A Revocation
WHAT should I say?—Since Faith is dead,And Truth awayFrom you is fled?Should I be ledWith doubleness?Nay! nay! mistress.
I promised you,And you promised me,To be as trueAs I would be.But since I seeYour double heart,Farewell my part!
Thought for to take'Tis not my mind;But to forsakeOne so unkind;And as I findSo will I trust.Farewell, unjust!
Can ye say nayBut that you saidThat I alwayShould be obeyed?And—thus betrayedOr that I wist!Farewell, unkist!
Sir Thomas Wyatt. 1503-1542
37. Vixi Puellis Nuper Idoneus…
THEY flee from me that sometime did me seek,With naked foot stalking within my chamber:Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek,That now are wild, and do not once rememberThat sometime they have put themselves in dangerTo take bread at my hand; and now they range,Busily seeking in continual change.
Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwiseTwenty 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 arms long and small,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 turn'd now, through my gentleness,Into a bitter fashion of forsaking;And I have leave to go of her goodness;And she also to use new-fangleness.But since that I unkindly so am served,'How like you this?'—what hath she now deserved?
Sir Thomas Wyatt. 1503-1542
38. To His Lute
MY lute, awake! perform the lastLabour that thou and I shall waste,And end that I have now begun;For when this song is said and past,My lute, be still, for I have done.
As to be heard where ear is none,As lead to grave in marble stone,My song may pierce her heart as soon:Should we then sing, or sigh, or moan?No, no, my lute! for I have done.
The rocks do not so cruellyRepulse the waves continually,As she my suit and affectiòn;So that I am past remedy:Whereby my lute and I have done.
Proud of the spoil that thou hast gotOf simple hearts thorough Love's shot,By whom, unkind, thou hast them won;Think not he hath his bow forgot,Although my lute and I have done.
Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain,That makest but game of earnest pain:Trow not alone under the sunUnquit to cause thy lover's plain,Although my lute and I have done.
May chance thee lie wither'd and oldThe winter nights that are so cold,Plaining in vain unto the moon:Thy wishes then dare not be told:Care then who list! for I have done.
And then may chance thee to repentThe time that thou has lost and spentTo cause thy lover's sigh and swoon:Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,And wish and want as I have done.
Now cease, my lute! this is the lastLabour that thou and I shall waste,And ended is that we begun:Now is this song both sung and past—My lute, be still, for I have done.
Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. 1516-47
39. Description of Spring Wherein each thing renews, save only the Lover
THE soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings,With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale:The nightingale with feathers new she sings;The turtle to her make hath told her tale.Summer is come, for every spray now springs:The hart hath hung his old head on the pale;The buck in brake his winter coat he flings;The fishes flete with new repaired scale.The adder all her slough away she slings;The swift swallow pursueth the flies smale;The busy bee her honey now she mings;Winter is worn that was the flowers' bale.
And thus I see among these pleasant thingsEach care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.
make] mate. mings] mingles, mixes.
Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. 1516-47
40. Complaint of the Absence of Her Lover being upon the Sea
O HAPPY dames! that may embraceThe fruit of your delight,Help to bewail the woful caseAnd eke the heavy plightOf me, that wonted to rejoiceThe fortune of my pleasant choice:Good ladies, help to fill my mourning voice.
In ship, freight with rememberanceOf thoughts and pleasures past,He sails that hath in governanceMy life while it will last:With scalding sighs, for lack of gale,Furthering his hope, that is his sail,Toward me, the swete port of his avail.
Alas! how oft in dreams I seeThose eyes that were my food;Which sometime so delighted me,That yet they do me good:Wherewith I wake with his returnWhose absent flame did make me burn:But when I find the lack, Lord! how I mourn!
When other lovers in arms acrossRejoice their chief delight,Drowned in tears, to mourn my lossI stand the bitter nightIn my window where I may seeBefore the winds how the clouds flee:Lo! what a mariner love hath made me!
And in green waves when the salt floodDoth rise by rage of wind,A thousand fancies in that moodAssail my restless mind.Alas! now drencheth my sweet foe,That with the spoil of my heart did go,And left me; but alas! why did he so?
And when the seas wax calm againTo chase fro me annoy,My doubtful hope doth cause me plain;So dread cuts off my joy.Thus is my wealth mingled with woeAnd of each thought a doubt doth grow;—Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no.
drencheth] i. e. is drenched or drowned.
Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. 1516-47
41. The Means to attain Happy Life
MARTIAL, the things that do attainThe happy life be these, I find:—The richesse 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 join'd with simpleness;The night discharged of all care,Where wine the wit may not oppress.
The faithful wife, without debate;Such sleeps as may beguile the night:Contented with thine own estateNe wish for death, ne fear his might.
Nicholas Grimald. 1519-62
42. A True Love
WHAT sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see,What dear delight the blooms to bees, my true love is to me!As fresh and lusty Ver foul Winter doth exceed—As morning bright, with scarlet sky, doth pass the evening's weed—As mellow pears above the crabs esteemed be—So doth my love surmount them all, whom yet I hap to see!The oak shall olives bear, the lamb the lion fray,The owl shall match the nightingale in tuning of her lay,Or I my love let slip out of mine entire heart,So deep reposed in my breast is she for her desart!For many blessed gifts, O happy, happy land!Where Mars and Pallas strive to make their glory most to stand!Yet, land, more is thy bliss that, in this cruel age,A Venus' imp thou hast brought forth, so steadfast and so sage.Among the Muses Nine a tenth if Jove would make,And to the Graces Three a fourth, her would Apollo take.Let some for honour hunt, and hoard the massy gold:With her so I may live and die, my weal cannot be told.
fray] affright.
Alexander Scott. 1520?-158-
43. A Bequest of His Heart
HENCE, heart, with her that must depart,And hald thee with thy soverane!For I had liever want ane heart,Nor have the heart that dois me pain.Therefore, go, with thy love remain,And let me leif thus unmolest;And see that thou come not again,But bide with her thou luvis best.
Sen she that I have servit langIs to depart so suddenly,Address thee now, for thou sall gangAnd bear thy lady company.Fra she be gone, heartless am I,For quhy? thou art with her possest.Therefore, my heart, go hence in high,And bide with her thou luvis best.
Though this belappit body hereBe bound to servitude and thrall,My faithful heart is free entierAnd mind to serve my lady at all.Would God that I were perigallUnder that redolent rose to rest!Yet at the least, my heart, thou sallAbide with her thou luvis best.
Sen in your garth the lily quhyteMay not remain amang the laif,Adieu the flower of whole delite!Adieu the succour that may me saif!Adieu the fragrant balme suaif,And lamp of ladies lustiest!My faithful heart she shall it haifTo bide with her it luvis best.
Deploir, ye ladies cleir of hue,Her absence, sen she must depart!And, specially, ye luveris trueThat wounded bene with Luvis dart.For some of you sall want ane heartAs well as I; therefore at lastDo go with mine, with mind inwart,And bide with her thou luvis best!
hald] keep. sen] since. belappit] downtrodden. perigall] made equal to, privileged. garth] garden-close. laif] rest. with mind inwart] with inner mind, i. e. in spirit.
Alexander Scott. 1520?-158-
44. A Rondel of Love
LO, quhat it is to loveLearn ye that list to prove,By me, I say, that no ways mayThe ground of grief remove,But still decay both nicht and day:Lo, quhat it is to love!
Love is ane fervent fireKindlit without desire,Short pleasure, long displeasure,Repentance is the hire;Ane pure tressour without measour;Love is ane fervent fire.
To love and to be wise,To rage with good advice;Now thus, now than, so gois the game,Incertain is the dice;There is no man, I say, that canBoth love and to be wise.
Flee always from the snare,Learn at me to beware;It is ane pain, and double traneOf endless woe and care;For to refrain that danger plain,Flee always from the snare.
Robert Wever. c. 1550
45. In Youth is Pleasure
IN a harbour grene aslepe whereas I lay,The byrdes sang swete in the middes of the day,I dreamed fast of mirth and play:In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
Methought I walked still to and fro,And from her company I could not go—But when I waked it was not so:In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
Therefore my hart is surely pyghtOf her alone to have a sightWhich is my joy and hartes delight:In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
Richard Edwardes. 1523-66
46. Amantium Irae
IN going to my naked bed as one that would have slept,I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept;She sighed sore and sang full sweet, to bring the babe to rest,That would not cease but cried still, in sucking at her breast.She was full weary of her watch, and grieved with her child,She rocked it and rated it, till that on her it smiled.Then did she say, Now have I found this proverb true to prove,The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.
Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write,In register for to remain of such a worthy wight:As she proceeded thus in song unto her little brat,Much matter utter'd she of weight, in place whereas she sat:And proved plain there was no beast, nor creature bearing life,Could well be known to live in love without discord and strife:Then kissed she her little babe, and sware by God above,The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.
She said that neither king nor prince nor lord could live aright,Until their puissance they did prove, their manhood and their might.When manhood shall be matched so that fear can take no place,Then weary works make warriors each other to embrace,And left their force that failed them, which did consume the rout,That might before have lived their time, their strength and nature out:Then did she sing as one that thought no man could her reprove,The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.
She said she saw no fish nor fowl, nor beast within her haunt,That met a stranger in their kind, but could give it a taunt:Since flesh might not endure, but rest must wrath succeed,And force the fight to fall to play in pasture where they feed,So noble nature can well end the work she hath begun,And bridle well that will not cease her tragedy in some:Thus in song she oft rehearsed, as did her well behove,The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.
I marvel much pardy (quoth she) for to behold the rout,To see man, woman, boy and beast, to toss the world about:Some kneel, some crouch, some beck, some check, and some can smoothlysmile,And some embrace others in arm, and there think many a wile,Some stand aloof at cap and knee, some humble and some stout,Yet are they never friends in deed until they once fall out:Thus ended she her song and said, before she did remove,The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.
George Gascoigne. 1525?-77
47. A Lover's Lullaby
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 a wanton babe have I,Which must be still'd with lullaby.
First lullaby my youthful years,It is now time to go to bed:For crooked age and hoary hairsHave 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 sufficeTo show the furrows in thy face.With lullaby then wink 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 skillHow 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 more 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.
Alexander Montgomerie. 1540?-1610?
48. The Night is Near Gone
HEY! now the day dawis;The jolly cock crawis;Now shroudis the shawisThro' Nature anon.The thissel-cock cryisOn lovers wha lyis:Now skaillis the skyis;The nicht is neir gone.
The fieldis ouerflowisWith gowans that growis,Quhair lilies like low isAs red as the rone.The turtle that true is,With notes that renewis,Her pairty pursuis:The nicht is neir gone.
Now hairtis with hindisConform to their kindis,Hie tursis their tyndisOn ground quhair they grone.Now hurchonis, with hairis,Aye passis in pairis;Quhilk duly declarisThe nicht is neir gone.
The season excellisThrough sweetness that smellis;Now Cupid compellisOur hairtis echoneOn Venus wha waikis,To muse on our maikis,Syne sing for their saikis—'The nicht is neir gone!'
All courageous knichtisAganis the day dichtisThe breist-plate that bright isTo fight with their fone.The stoned steed stampisThrough courage, and crampis,Syne on the land lampis:The nicht is neir gone.
The freikis on feildisThat wight wapins weildisWith shyning bright shieldisAt Titan in trone;Stiff speiris in reistisOuer corseris crestisAre broke on their breistis:The nicht is neir gone.
So hard are their hittis,Some sweyis, some sittis,And some perforce flittisOn ground quhile they grone.Syne groomis that gay isOn blonkis that brayisWith swordis assayis:—The nicht is neir gone.
shroudis] dress themselves. shawis] woods. skaillis] clears. gowans] daisies. low] flame. rone] rowan. pairty] partner, mate. tursis] carry. tyndis] antlers. grone] groan, bell. hurchonis] hedgehogs, 'urchins.' maikis] mates. fone] foes. stoned steed] stallion. crampis] prances. lampis] gallops. freikis] men, warriors. wight wapins] stout weapons. at Titan] over against Titan (the sun), or read 'as.' flittis] are cast. blonkis] white palfreys.
William Stevenson. 1530?-1575
49. Jolly Good Ale and Old
I CANNOT eat but little meat,My stomach is not good;But sure I think that I can drinkWith him that wears a hood.Though I go bare, take ye no care,I nothing am a-cold;I stuff my skin so full withinOf jolly good ale and old.Back and side go bare, go bare;Both foot and hand go cold;But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,Whether it be new or old.
I love no roast but a nut-brown toast,And a crab laid in the fire;A little bread shall do me stead;Much bread I not desire.No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,Can hurt me if I wold;I am so wrapp'd and thoroughly lapp'dOf jolly good ale and old.Back and side go bare, go bare, &c.
And Tib, my wife, that as her lifeLoveth well good ale to seek,Full oft drinks she till ye may seeThe tears run down her cheek:Then doth she trowl to me the bowlEven as a maltworm should,And saith, 'Sweetheart, I took my partOf this jolly good ale and old.'Back and side go bare, go bare, &c.
Now let them drink till they nod and wink,Even as good fellows should do;They shall not miss to have the blissGood ale doth bring men to;And all poor souls that have scour'd bowlsOr have them lustily troll'd,God save the lives of them and their wives,Whether they be young or old.Back and side go bare, go bare;Both foot and hand go cold;But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,Whether it be new or old.
Anonymous. 16th Cent. (Scottish)
50. When Flora had O'erfret the Firth
QUHEN Flora had o'erfret the firthIn May of every moneth queen;Quhen merle and mavis singis with mirthSweet melling in the shawis sheen;Quhen all luvaris rejoicit beneAnd most desirous of their prey,I heard a lusty luvar mene—'I luve, but I dare nocht assay!'
'Strong are the pains I daily prove,But yet with patience I sustene,I am so fetterit with the luveOnly of my lady sheen,Quhilk for her beauty micht be queen,Nature so craftily alwayHas done depaint that sweet serene:—Quhom I luve I dare nocht assay.
'She is so bricht of hyd and hue,I luve but her alone, I ween;Is none her luve that may eschew,That blinkis of that dulce amene;So comely cleir are her twa eenThat she mae luvaris dois affrayThan ever of Greece did fair Helene:—Quhom I luve I dare nocht assay!'
o'erfret] adorned. shawis] woods. sheen] beautiful. mene] mourn. hyd] skin. blinkis] gets a glimpse. dulce amene] gentle and pleasant one. mae] more.
Anonymous. 16th Cent. (Scottish)
51. Lusty May
O LUSTY May, with Flora queen!The balmy dropis from Phoebus sheenPreluciand beams before the day:By that Diana growis greenThrough gladness of this lusty May.
Then Esperus, that is so bricht,Til woful hairtis castis his light,With bankis that bloomis on every brae;And schouris are shed forth of their sichtThrough gladness of this lusty May.
Birdis on bewis of every birth,Rejoicing notis makand their mirthRicht plesantly upon the spray,With flourishingis o'er field and firthThrough gladness of this lusty May.
All luvaris that are in careTo their ladies they do repairIn fresh morningis before the day,And are in mirth ay mair and mairThrough gladness of this lusty May.
sheen] bright. til] into. schouris] showers. bewis] boughs. birth] kind.
Anonymous. 16th Cent. (Scottish)
52. My Heart is High Above
MY heart is high above, my body is full of bliss,For I am set in luve as well as I would wissI luve my lady pure and she luvis me again,I am her serviture, she is my soverane;She is my very heart, I am her howp and heill,She is my joy invart, I am her luvar leal;I am her bond and thrall, she is at my command;I am perpetual her man, both foot and hand;The thing that may her please my body sall fulfil;Quhatever her disease, it does my body ill.My bird, my bonny ane, my tender babe venust,My luve, my life alane, my liking and my lust!We interchange our hairtis in others armis soft,Spriteless we twa depairtis, usand our luvis oft.We mourn when licht day dawis, we plain the nicht is short,We curse the cock that crawis, that hinderis our disport.I glowffin up aghast, quhen I her miss on nicht,And in my oxter fast I find the bowster richt;Then languor on me lies like Morpheus the mair,Quhilk causes me uprise and to my sweet repair.And then is all the sorrow forth of remembranceThat ever I had a-forrow in luvis observance.Thus never I do rest, so lusty a life I lead,Quhen that I list to test the well of womanheid.Luvaris in pain, I pray God send you sic remeidAs I have nicht and day, you to defend from deid!Therefore be ever true unto your ladies free,And they will on you rue as mine has done on me.
wiss] wish. heill] health. invart] inward. venust] delightful. glowffin] blink on awaking. oxter] armpit. a-forrow] aforetime.
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1557
53. A Praise of His Lady Tottel's Miscellany ? by John Heywood
GIVE place, you ladies, and begone!Boast not yourselves at all!For here at hand approacheth oneWhose face will stain you all.
The virtue of her lively looksExcels the precious stone;I wish to have none other booksTo read or look upon.
In each of her two crystal eyesSmileth a naked boy;It would you all in heart sufficeTo see that lamp of joy.
I think Nature hath lost the mouldWhere she her shape did take;Or else I doubt if Nature couldSo fair a creature make.
She may be well comparedUnto the Phoenix kind,Whose like was never seen or heard,That any man can find.
In life she is Diana chaste,In troth Penelopey;In word and eke in deed steadfast.—What will you more we say?
If all the world were sought so far,Who could find such a wight?Her beauty twinkleth like a starWithin the frosty night.
Her rosial colour comes and goesWith such a comely grace,More ruddier, too, than doth the rose,Within her lively face.
At Bacchus' feast none shall her meet,Ne at no wanton play,Nor gazing in an open street,Nor gadding as a stray.
The modest mirth that she doth useIs mix'd with shamefastness;All vice she doth wholly refuse,And hateth idleness.
O Lord! it is a world to seeHow virtue can repair,And deck in her such honesty,Whom Nature made so fair.
Truly she doth so far exceedOur women nowadays,As doth the jeliflower a weed;And more a thousand ways.
How might I do to get a graffOf this unspotted tree?—For all the rest are plain but chaff,Which seem good corn to be.
This gift alone I shall her give;When death doth what he can,Her honest fame shall ever liveWithin the mouth of man.
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1557
54. To Her Sea-faring Lover Tottel's Miscellany ? by John Heywood
SHALL I thus ever long, and be no whit the neare?And shall I still complain to thee, the which me will not hear?Alas! say nay! say nay! and be no more so dumb,But open thou thy manly mouth and say that thou wilt come:Whereby my heart may think, although I see not thee,That thou wilt come—thy word so sware—if thou a live man be.The roaring hugy waves they threaten my poor ghost,And toss thee up and down the seas in danger to be lost.Shall they not make me fear that they have swallowed thee?—But as thou art most sure alive, so wilt thou come to me.Whereby I shall go see thy ship ride on the strand,And think and say Lo where he comes and Sure here will he land:And then I shall lift up to thee my little hand,And thou shalt think thine heart in ease, in health to see me stand.And if thou come indeed (as Christ thee send to do!)Those arms which miss thee now shall then embrace [and hold] thee too:
Each vein to every joint the lively blood shall spreadWhich now for want of thy glad sight doth show full pale and dead.But if thou slip thy troth, and do not come at all,As minutes in the clock do strike so call for death I shall:To please both thy false heart and rid myself from woe,That rather had to die in troth than live forsaken so!
neare] nearer.
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1589
55. The Faithless Shepherdess William Byrd's Songs of Sundry Natures
WHILE that the sun with his beams hotScorched the fruits in vale and mountain,Philon the shepherd, late forgot,Sitting beside a crystal fountainIn shadow of a green oak tree,Upon his pipe this song play'd he:Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
So long as I was in your sightI was your heart, your soul, your treasure;And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'dBurning in flames beyond all measure:—Three days endured your love to me,And it was lost in other three!Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
Another shepherd you did see,To whom your heart was soon enchained;Full soon your love was leapt from me,Full soon my place he had obtained.Soon came a third your love to win,And we were out and he was in.Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
Sure you have made me passing gladThat you your mind so soon removed,Before that I the leisure hadTo choose you for my best beloved:For all my love was pass'd and doneTwo days before it was begun.Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1599
56. Crabbed Age and Youth The Passionate Pilgrim ? by William Shakespeare
CRABBÈD Age and YouthCannot live together:Youth is full of pleasance,Age is full of care;Youth like summer morn,Age like winter weather;Youth like summer brave,Age like winter bare.Youth is full of sport,Age's breath is short;Youth is nimble, Age is lame;Youth is hot and bold,Age is weak and cold;Youth is wild, and Age is tame.Age, I do abhor thee;Youth, I do adore thee;O, my Love, my Love is young!Age, I do defy thee:O, sweet shepherd, hie thee!For methinks thou stay'st too long.
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1600
57. Phyllida's Love-Call England's Helicon
Phyllida. CORYDON, arise, my Corydon!Titan shineth clear.Corydon. Who is it that calleth Corydon?Who is it that I hear?Phyl. Phyllida, thy true love, calleth thee,Arise then, arise then,Arise and keep thy flock with me!Cor. Phyllida, my true love, is it she?I come then, I come then,I come and keep my flock with thee.
Phyl. Here are cherries ripe for my Corydon;Eat them for my sake.Cor. Here 's my oaten pipe, my lovely one,Sport for thee to make.Phyl. Here are threads, my true love, fine as silk,To knit thee, to knit thee,A pair of stockings white as milk.Cor. Here are reeds, my true love, fine and neat,To make thee, to make thee,A bonnet to withstand the heat.
Phyl. I will gather flowers, my Corydon,To set in thy cap.Cor. I will gather pears, my lovely one,To put in thy lap.Phyl. I will buy my true love garters gay,For Sundays, for Sundays,To wear about his legs so tall.Cor. I will buy my true love yellow say,For Sundays, for Sundays,To wear about her middle small.
Phyl. When my Corydon sits on a hillMaking melody—Cor. When my lovely one goes to her wheel,Singing cheerily—Phyl. Sure methinks my true love doth excelFor sweetness, for sweetness,Our Pan, that old Arcadian knight.Cor. And methinks my true love bears the bellFor clearness, for clearness,Beyond the nymphs that be so bright.
Phyl. Had my Corydon, my Corydon,Been, alack! her swain—Cor. Had my lovely one, my lovely one,Been in Ida plain—Phyl. Cynthia Endymion had refused,Preferring, preferring,My Corydon to play withal.Cor. The Queen of Love had been excusedBequeathing, bequeathing,My Phyllida the golden ball.
Phyl. Yonder comes my mother, Corydon!Whither shall I fly?Cor. Under yonder beech, my lovely one,While she passeth by.Phyl. Say to her thy true love was not here;Remember, remember,To-morrow is another day.Cor. Doubt me not, my true love, do not fear;Farewell then, farewell then!Heaven keep our loves alway!
say] soie, silk.
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1600
58. A Pedlar John Dowland's Second Book of Songs or Airs
FINE knacks for ladies! cheap, choice, brave, and new,Good pennyworths—but money cannot move:I keep a fair but for the Fair to view—A beggar may be liberal of love.Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true,The heart is true.
Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again;My trifles come as treasures from my mind:It is a precious jewel to be plain;Sometimes in shell the orient'st pearls we find:—Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain!Of me a grain!
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 16th Cent.
59. Hey nonny no! Christ Church MS.
HEY nonny no!Men are fools that wish to die!Is 't not fine to dance and singWhen the bells of death do ring?Is 't not fine to swim in wine,And turn upon the toe,And sing hey nonny no!When the winds blow and the seas flow?Hey nonny no!
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 16th Cent.
60. Preparations Christ Church MS.
YET if His Majesty, our sovereign lord,Should of his own accordFriendly himself invite,And say 'I'll be your guest to-morrow night,'How should we stir ourselves, call and commandAll hands to work! 'Let no man idle stand!
'Set me fine Spanish tables in the hall;See they be fitted all;Let there be room to eatAnd order taken that there want no meat.See every sconce and candlestick made bright,That without tapers they may give a light.
'Look to the presence: are the carpets spread,The dazie o'er the head,The cushions in the chairs,And all the candles lighted on the stairs?Perfume the chambers, and in any caseLet each man give attendance in his place!'
Thus, if a king were coming, would we do;And 'twere good reason too;For 'tis a duteous thingTo show all honour to an earthly king,And after all our travail and our cost,So he be pleased, to think no labour lost.
But at the coming of the King of HeavenAll 's set at six and seven;We wallow in our sin,Christ cannot find a chamber in the inn.We entertain Him always like a stranger,And, as at first, still lodge Him in the manger.
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1601
61. The Now Jerusalem Song of Mary the Mother of Christ (London: E. Allde)
HIERUSALEM, my happy home,When shall I come to thee?When shall my sorrows have an end,Thy joys when shall I see?
O happy harbour of the Saints!O sweet and pleasant soil!In thee no sorrow may be found,No grief, no care, no toil.
There lust and lucre cannot dwell,There envy bears no sway;There is no hunger, heat, nor cold,But pleasure every way.
Thy walls are made of precious stones,Thy bulwarks diamonds square;Thy gates are of right orient pearl,Exceeding rich and rare.
Thy turrets and thy pinnaclesWith carbuncles do shine;Thy very streets are paved with gold,Surpassing clear and fine.
Ah, my sweet home, Hierusalem,Would God I were in thee!Would God my woes were at an end,Thy joys that I might see!
Thy gardens and thy gallant walksContinually are green;There grows such sweet and pleasant flowersAs nowhere else are seen.
Quite through the streets, with silver sound,The flood of Life doth flow;Upon whose banks on every sideThe wood of Life doth grow.
There trees for evermore bear fruit,And evermore do spring;There evermore the angels sit,And evermore do sing.
Our Lady sings MagnificatWith tones surpassing sweet;And all the virgins bear their part,Sitting about her feet.
Hierusalem, my happy home,Would God I were in thee!Would God my woes were at an end,Thy joys that I might see!
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1601
62. Icarus Robert Jones's Second Book of Songs and Airs
LOVE wing'd my Hopes and taught me how to flyFar from base earth, but not to mount too high:For true pleasureLives in measure,Which if men forsake,Blinded they into folly run and grief for pleasure take.
But my vain Hopes, proud of their new-taught flight,Enamour'd sought to woo the sun's fair light,Whose rich brightnessMoved their lightnessTo aspire so highThat all scorch'd and consumed with fire now drown'd in woe they lie.
And none but Love their woeful hap did rue,For Love did know that their desires were true;Though fate frowned,And now drownedThey in sorrow dwell,It was the purest light of heav'n for whose fair love they fell.
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1602
63. Madrigal Davison's Poetical Rhapsody
MY Love in her attire doth show her wit,It doth so well become her;For every season she hath dressings fit,For Winter, Spring, and Summer.No beauty she doth missWhen all her robes are on:But Beauty's self she isWhen all her robes are gone.
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1602
64. How can the Heart forget her? Davison's Poetical Rhapsody ? F. or W. Davison
AT her fair hands how have I grace entreatedWith prayers oft repeated!Yet still my love is thwarted:Heart, let her go, for she'll not be converted—Say, shall she go?O no, no, no, no, no!She is most fair, though she be marble-hearted.
How often have my sighs declared my anguish,Wherein I daily languish!Yet still she doth procure it:Heart, let her go, for I can not endure it—Say, shall she go?O no, no, no, no, no!She gave the wound, and she alone must cure it.
But shall I still a true affection owe her,Which prayers, sighs, tears do show her,And shall she still disdain me?Heart, let her go, if they no grace can gain me—Say, shall she go?O no, no, no, no, no!She made me hers, and hers she will retain me.
But if the love that hath and still doth burn meNo love at length return me,Out of my thoughts I'll set her:Heart, let her go, O heart I pray thee, let her!Say, shall she go?O no, no, no, no, no!Fix'd in the heart, how can the heart forget her?
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1603
65. Tears John Dowland's Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs
WEEP you no more, sad fountains;What need you flow so fast?Look how the snowy mountainsHeaven's sun doth gently waste!But my Sun's heavenly eyesView not your weeping,That now lies sleepingSoftly, now softly liesSleeping.
Sleep is a reconciling,A rest that peace begets;Doth not the sun rise smilingWhen fair at even he sets?Rest you then, rest, sad eyes!Melt not in weeping,While she lies sleepingSoftly, now softly liesSleeping.
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1603
66. My Lady's Tears John Dowland's Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs
I SAW my Lady weep,And Sorrow proud to be advanced soIn those fair eyes where all perfections keep.Her face was full of woe;But such a woe (believe me) as wins more heartsThan Mirth can do with her enticing parts.
Sorrow was there made fair,And Passion wise; Tears a delightful thing;Silence beyond all speech, a wisdom rare:She made her sighs to sing,And all things with so sweet a sadness moveAs made my heart at once both grieve and love.
O fairer than aught elseThe world can show, leave off in time to grieve!Enough, enough: your joyful look excels:Tears kill the heart, believe.O strive not to be excellent in woe,Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1604
67. Sister, Awake! Thomas Bateson's First Set of English Madrigals
SISTER, awake! close not your eyes!The day her light discloses,And the bright morning doth ariseOut of her bed of roses.
See the clear sun, the world's bright eye,In at our window peeping:Lo, how he blusheth to espyUs idle wenches sleeping!
Therefore awake! make haste, I say,And let us, without staying,All in our gowns of green so gayInto the Park a-maying!
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1605
68. Devotion Captain Tobias Hume's The First Part of Airs, &c.
FAIN would I change that noteTo which fond Love hath charm'd meLong, long to sing by rote,Fancying that that harm'd me:Yet when this thought doth come,'Love is the perfect sumOf all delight,'I have no other choiceEither for pen or voiceTo sing or write.
O Love! they wrong thee muchThat say thy sweet is bitter,When thy rich fruit is suchAs nothing can be sweeter.Fair house of joy and bliss,Where truest pleasure is,I do adore thee:I know thee what thou art,I serve thee with my heart,And fall before thee.
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1607
69. Since First I saw your Face Thomas Ford's Music of Sundry Kinds
SINCE first I saw your face I resolved to honour and renown ye;If now I be disdained I wish my heart had never known ye.What? I that loved and you that liked, shall we begin to wrangle?No, no, no, my heart is fast, and cannot disentangle.
If I admire or praise you too much, that fault you may forgive me;Or if my hands had stray'd but a touch, then justly might you leaveme.I ask'd you leave, you bade me love; is 't now a time to chide me?No, no, no, I'll love you still what fortune e'er betide me.
The Sun, whose beams most glorious are, rejecteth no beholder,And your sweet beauty past compare made my poor eyes the bolder:Where beauty moves and wit delights and signs of kindness bind me,There, O there! where'er I go I'll leave my heart behind me!
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1607
70. There is a Lady sweet and kind Thomas Ford's Music of Sundry Kinds
THERE is a Lady sweet and kind,Was never face so pleased my mind;I did but see her passing by,And yet I love her till I die.
Her gesture, motion, and her smiles,Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles,Beguiles my heart, I know not why,And yet I love her till I die.
Cupid is winged and doth range,Her country so my love doth change:But change she earth, or change she sky,Yet will I love her till I die.
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1609
71. Love not me for comely grace John Wilbye's Second Set of Madrigals
LOVE not me for comely grace,For my pleasing eye or face,Nor for any outward part,No, nor for a constant heart:For these may fail or turn to ill,So thou and I shall sever:Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye,And love me still but know not why—So hast thou the same reason stillTo doat upon me ever!
Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1622
72. The Wakening John Attye's First Book of Airs
ON a time the amorous SilvySaid to her shepherd, 'Sweet, how do ye?Kiss me this once and then God be with ye,My sweetest dear!Kiss me this once and then God be with ye,For now the morning draweth near.'
With that, her fairest bosom showing,Op'ning her lips, rich perfumes blowing,She said, 'Now kiss me and be going,My sweetest dear!Kiss me this once and then be going,For now the morning draweth near.'
With that the shepherd waked from sleeping,And spying where the day was peeping,He said, 'Now take my soul in keeping,My sweetest dear!Kiss me and take my soul in keeping,Since I must go, now day is near.'
Nicholas Breton. 1542-1626
73. Phillida and Coridon
IN the merry month of May,In a morn by break of day,Forth I walk'd by the wood-sideWhen as May was in his pride:There I spied all alonePhillida 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 loved her long;She said, Love should have no wrong.Coridon would kiss her then;She said, Maids must kiss no menTill they did for good and all;Then she made the shepherd callAll the heavens to witness truthNever loved a truer youth.Thus with many a pretty oath,Yea and nay, and faith and troth,Such as silly shepherds useWhen 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.