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SONNETS TO SUNDRY NOTES OF MUSIC.
It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of My flocks feed not, three,
My ewes breed not, That liked of her master as well as well might My rams speed not, be,
All is amiss : Till looking on an Englishman, the fair'st that Love's denying, eye could see,
Faith's defying Her fancy fell a-turning.
Causer of this. Long was the combat doubtful that love with | All my merry jigs are quite forgot, love did fight,
All my lady's love is lost, God wot: To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love, knight :
There a nay is plac'd without remove.
Wrought all my loss ;
0! frowning Fortune, cursed, fickle dame; pain
Inconstancy That nothing could be used to turn them both
More in women than in men remain, to gain, For of the two the trusty knight was wounded in black mourn I, with disdain :
All fears scorn I, Alas! she could not help it.
Love bath forlorn me, Thus art with arms contending was victor of
Living in thrall : the day,
Heart is bleeding, Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid All help needing,
0! cruel speeding, ; Then lullaby', the learned man hath got the lady My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal,
Fraughted with gall.
My wether's bell rings doleful kuell ;
Procure to weep,
In howling wise, to see my doleful plight. Love, whose month was ever May,
How sighs resound Spied a blossom passing fair,
Through heartless ground, Playing in the wanton air :
Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody Through the velvet leaves the wind,
fight! All unseen, 'gan passage find; That the lover, sick to death,
Clear wells spring not, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Sweet birds sing not, ‘Air,' quoth he, “thy cheeks may blow; Green plants bring not Air, would I might triumph so !
Forth their dye; But, alas ! my hand hath sworn
Herds stand weeping, Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn :
Flocks all sleeping, Vow, alack! for youth unmeet :
Nymphs back peeping Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet.
Fearfully : Thou for whom Jove would swear
All our pleasure known to us poor swains, Juno but an Ethiop were ;
All our merry meetings on the plains, And deny himself for Jove,
All our evening sport from us is fled, Turning mortal for thy love.'
All our love is lost, for Love is dead.
Live with me, and be my love,
LOVE'S ANSWER. If that the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love.
Whenas thine eye hath chose the dame,
Take counsel of some wiser head,
Neither too young nor yet unwed.
But plainly say thon lov'st her well,
And set thy person forth to sell.
And twice desire, ere it be day,
That which with scorn she put away.
* Had women been so strong as men,
In faith, you had not had it then,' And to her will frame all thy ways; Spare not to spend, and cliefly there Where thy desert may merit praise, By ringing in thy lady's ear:
The strongest castle, tower, and town,
The golden bullet beats it down.
When time shall serve, be thou not slack
To proffer, though she put thee back.
Have you not heard it said full oft,
A woman's nay doth stand for nought?
Were kisses all the joys in bed,
As it fell upon a day
Every one that flatters thee
But, soft! enough! too much, I fear ;
Yet will she blush, here be it said,
And with such-like flattering,
Use his company no more. " Pity but he were a king.'
He that is thy friend indeed, If he be addict to vice,
He will help thee in thy need : Quickly him they will entice;
If thou sorrow, he will weep; If to women he be bent,
If thou wake, he cannot sleep: They have him at commandemect :
Thus of every grief in heart But if Fortune once do frown,
He with thee does bear a part. Then farewell his great renown;
These are certain signs to know They that fawn'd on him before
Faithful friend from flattering foe.
THE PHENIX AND THE TURTLE.
LET the bird of loudest lay
Property was thus appalld,
Reason, in itself confounded,
That it cried, 'How true a twain
But thou shrieking harbinger,
Whereupon it made this threne
Beauty, truth, and rarity,
Death is now the phenix' nest;
Leaving no posterity:
Hearts remote, yet not asunder ;
Truth may seem, but cannot be ;
So between them love did shine,
this urn let those repair That are either true or fair; For these dead birds sigh a prayer.