And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care,
To descant on the doubts of my decay.

Farewell, quoth she, and come again to-morrow;

Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow.
Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,
In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether:
'T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile,
'T may be, again to make me wander thither:

Wander, a word for shadows like myself,
As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.


Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east !
My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,

While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,

And wish her lays were tuned like the lark; For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty, And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night: The night so pack’d, I post unto my pretty; Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight;

Sorrow chang’d to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow;

For why? she sigh'd, and bade me come to-morrow.
Were I with her, the night would post too soon;
But now are minutes added to the hours;
To spite me now, each minute seems a moon;a
Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers !

Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now borrow;
Short, night, to-night, and length thyself to-morrow.

* A moon.

The original has an hourevidently a misprint. The emendation of moon, in the sense of month, is by Steevens, and it ought to atone for some faults of the commentator.





It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three,
That liked of her master as well as well might be,
Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest that


could see, Her fancy fell a turning. Long was the combat doubtful, that love with love did fight, To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant knight: To put in practice either, alas it was a spite

Unto the silly damsel.
But one must be refused, more mickle was the pain,
That nothing could be used, to turn them both to gain,
For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with disdain:

Alas, she could not help it!
Thus art, with arms contending, was victor of the day,
Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away;
Then lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay;

For now my song is ended.


On a day (alack the day !),
Love, whose month was ever May,
Spied a blossom passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.

Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so !
But, alas, my hand hath sworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet,
Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet.
Thou for whom Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiope were ;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love."


My flocks feed not,
My ewes breed not,
My rams speed not,

All is amiss :
Love is dying,
Faith 's defying,
Heart 's denying,

Causer of this.b

my merry jigs are quite forgot,
All my lady's love is lost, God wot:
Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love,
There a nay is plac'd without remove.
One silly cross
Wrought all my loss;

* This beautiful little poem also occurs in 'Love's Labour 's Lost.' In that copy in the second line we find “is every May;" every, which is repeated in the folio of 1623, is clearly a mistake. In the eleventh line we have~

But, alack, my hand is sworn."
In the play there is a couplet not found in “The Passionate Pilgrim :'-

16 Do not call it sin in me,

That I am forsworn for thee." These lines precede “ Thou for whom."

• We have two other ancient copies of this poem—one in England's Helicon,' 1600; the other in a collection of Madrigals by Thomas Weelkes, 1597. In • England's Helicon' these lines are thus given :

« Love is denying, Faith is defying ;

Hearts renging (renying), causer of this."

O frowning Fortune, cursed, fickle dame!
For now I see,

More in women than in men remain.

In black mourn I,
All fears scorn I,
Love hath forlorn me,

Living in thrall:
Heart is bleeding,
All help needing,
(O cruel speeding!)

Fraughted with gall.
My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal,a
My wether's bell rings doleful knell;
My curtail dog, that wont to have play'd,
Plays not at all, but seems afraid ;
With sighs so deep,
Procurest to weep,

In howling-wise, to see my doleful plight.
How sighs resound
Through heartless ground,

Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody fight!

Clear wells spring not,
Sweet birds sing not,
Green plants bring not

Forth; they die:
Herds stand weeping,
Flocks all sleeping,
Nymphs back peeping

All our pleasure known to us poor swains,
All our merry meetings on the plains,

No dealin no degree : some deal and no deal were common expressions. b Procures. The curtail dog is the nominative case to this verb. • The reading in Weelkes's “ Madrigals' is an improvement of this passage:-

“ Loud bells ring pot


All our evening sport from us is fled,
All our love is lost, for Love is dead.
Farewell, sweet lass,
Thy like ne'er was

For a sweet content, the cause of all
Poor Coridon
Must live alone,

Other help for him I see that there is none.

my moan: b


Whenas thine eye hath chose the dame,
And stall’d the deer that thou shouldst strike,
Let reason rule things worthy blame,
As well as fancy, partial might:d

Take counsel of some wiser head,

Neither too young, nor yet unwed.
And when thou com’st thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,
Lest she some subtle practice smell ;
(A cripple soon can find a halt :)

But plainly say thou lov’st her well,

And set her person forth to sell.
What though her frowning brows be bent,
Her cloudy looks will calm' ere night;
And then too late she will repent,
That thus dissembled her delight;

a Lass. This is the reading of Weelkes. • The Passionate Pilgrim' has love.

b Moan. This is the reading in England's Helicon.' • The Passionate Pilgrim' bas woe.

Strike. So the original. Mr. Dyce, who seldom indulges in conjectural emendation, alters the word to smite, “ for the sake of the rhyme.” This we think is scarcely allowable; for there are many examples of loose rhymes in these little poems. In the seventh stanza of this poem we have nought to rhyme with oft.

d Fancy is here used as love, and might as power. Steevens, mischievously we should imagine, changed partial might to partial tike; and Malone adopts this reading, which makes Cupid a bull-dog.

Sell. The reading of · The Passionate Pilgrim' is sale. A manuscript in the possession of Mr. Lysons gives us sell.

* Calm is the reading of The Passionate Pilgrim ;' the manuscript just mentioned has clear.

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