Amie. And sunk and sticks yet in my marrow deep; And what doth hurt me, I now wish to keep. Mar. Alas, how innocent her story is! Amie. I do remember, Marian, I have oft Of whose out-skipping bounds I was as glad And that delay, methinks, most tedious is, XCVIII. A NYMPH'S PASSION. From the Underwoods, a collection of short poems found amongst Jonson's papers, and published in the folio of 1641. I LOVE, and he loves me again, Yet dare I not tell who; For if the nymphs should know my swain, I fear they'd love him too; Yet if it be not known, The pleasure is as good as none, For that's a narrow joy is but our own. I'll tell that if they be not glad, It were a plague 'bove scorn, And yet it cannot be forborne Unless my heart would, as my thought, be torn. He is, if they can find him, fair, That are this morning blown; Yet, yet I doubt he is not known, And fear much more, that more of him be shown. But he hath eyes so round and bright, As make away my doubt, Where love may all his torches light What nymph soe'er his voice but hears, I'll tell no more, and yet I love, But so exempt from blame, As it would be to each a fame, If love or fear would let me tell his name. THOMAS CAREW. (1598?-1638?.) XCIX. A PASTORAL DIALOGUE. From the 1640 edition of his poems. These have been edited by Mr. W. C. Hazlitt in the Roxburghe Library, and more recently by the Rev. J. W. Ebsworth. SHEPHERD, NYMPH, CHORUS. Shepherd. THIS mossy bank they press'd. Nym. That agèd oak Did canopy the happy pair All night from the damp air. Cho. Here let us sit, and sing the words they spoke, Shepherd. See, love, the blushes of the morn appear; Robb'd from the eastern shore, I' th' cowslip's bell and rose's ear: Sweet, I must stay no longer here. Nymph. Those streaks of doubtful light usher not day! Shall shine till thou return: The yellow planet and the gray Dawn shall attend thee on thy way. Shepherd. If thine eyes gild my path, they may forbear Their useless shine. Nym. My tears will quite Shep. Those drops will make their beams more clear, Chorus. They kiss'd, and wept; and from their lips and eyes, Their joys and sorrows meet; But she cries out. Nym. Shepherd, arise, Shepherd. The winged hours fly fast whilst we embrace; Nym. Then let us pinion time, and chace The day for ever from this place. Shepherd. Hark! Nym. Ah me, stay! Shep. For ever. Nym. No, arise: We must be gone. Nym. My soul. Shep. My paradise. Cho. Neither could say farewell, but through their eyes Grief interrupted speech with tears' supplies. JOHN MILTON. (1608-1674.) C. TWO SONGS. From Arcades (1631?). There is a good deal of the pastoral element in L'Allegro (1632-1638?), and a hint of it in the Hymn on the Morning of Christ's Nativity (1629). Milton also composed a pastoral lament, in Latin, on the death of his friend, Charles Diodati, the Epitaphium Damonis (1639). I. 'ER the smooth enamell'd green O'ER Where no print of step hath been, And touch the warbled string, Under the shady roof Of branching elm star-proof. Follow me; I will bring you where she sits; Such a rural Queen, All Arcadia hath not seen. II. Nymphs and shepherds, dance no more By sandy Ladon's lilied banks; On old Lycaeus, or Cyllene hoar, A better soil shall give ye thanks. Bring your flocks, and live with us; To serve the Lady of this place. Though Syrinx your Pan's mistress were, Yet Syrinx well might wait on her. Such a rural Queen All Arcadia hath not seen. CI. THE SPIRIT-SHEPHERD. This and the following extract are from Comus (1634). A Spirit speaks. WHAT voice is that? my young Lord? speak again. Second Brother. O brother, 't is my father's shep herd, sure. |