Reliques of Ancient English Poetry consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and other Pieces of our earlier Poets, (Chiefly of the Lyric kind.) Together with some few of later Date |
 | 1. |
| 1. |
| I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
 | II. |
| III. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
 | Reliques of Ancient English Poetry |  |
204
IX. CORYDON'S FAREWELL TO PHILLIS
[_]
—is an attempt to paint a lover's irresolution, but so poorly executed, that it would not have been admitted into this collection, if it had not been quoted in Shakespeare's Twelfth-night, A. 2. sc. 3.—It is found in a little ancient miscellany intitled, “The golden Garland of princely “delights.” 12mo. bl. let.
In the same scene of the Twelfth Night, Sir Toby sings a scrap of an old ballad, which is preserved in the Pepys Collection. [Vol. 1. p. 33. 496.] but as it is not only a poor dull performance, but also very long, it will be sufficient here to give the first stanza:
The Ballad of Constant Susanna.
There dwelt a man in Babylon
Of reputation great by fame;
He took to wife a faire womàn,
Susanna she was callde by name:
A woman fair and vertuous;
Lady, lady:
Why should we not of her learn thus
To live godly?
Of reputation great by fame;
He took to wife a faire womàn,
Susanna she was callde by name:
A woman fair and vertuous;
Lady, lady:
Why should we not of her learn thus
To live godly?
If this song of Corydon, &c. has not more merit, it is at least an evil of less magnitude.
205
Farewell, dear love; since thou wilt needs begone,
Mine eyes do shew, my life is almost done.
Nay I will never die, so long as I can spie
There be many mo, though that she doe goe,
There be many mo, I fear not:
Why then let her goe, I care not.
Mine eyes do shew, my life is almost done.
Nay I will never die, so long as I can spie
There be many mo, though that she doe goe,
There be many mo, I fear not:
Why then let her goe, I care not.
Farewell, farewell; since this I find is true,
I will not spend more time in wooing you:
But I will seek elsewhere, if I may find love there:
Shall I bid her goe? what and if I doe?
Shall I bid her goe and spare not?
O no, no, no, I dare not.
I will not spend more time in wooing you:
But I will seek elsewhere, if I may find love there:
Shall I bid her goe? what and if I doe?
Shall I bid her goe and spare not?
O no, no, no, I dare not.
Ten thousand times farewell;—yet stay a while:—
Sweet, kiss me once; sweet kisses time beguile:
I have no power to move. How now am I in love?
Wilt thou needs be gone? Go then, all is one.
Wilt thou needs be gone? Oh, hie thee!
Nay stay, and do no more deny me.
Sweet, kiss me once; sweet kisses time beguile:
I have no power to move. How now am I in love?
Wilt thou needs be gone? Go then, all is one.
Wilt thou needs be gone? Oh, hie thee!
Nay stay, and do no more deny me.
Once more adieu, I see loath to depart
Bids oft adieu to her, that holds my heart.
But seeing I must lose thy love, which I did choose,
Goe thy way for me, since that may not be.
Goe thy ways for me. But whither?
Goe, oh, but where I may come thither.
Bids oft adieu to her, that holds my heart.
But seeing I must lose thy love, which I did choose,
Goe thy way for me, since that may not be.
Goe thy ways for me. But whither?
Goe, oh, but where I may come thither.
206
What shall I doe? my love is now departed.
She is as fair, as she is cruel-hearted.
She would not be intreated, with prayers oft repeated.
If she come no more, shall I die therefore?
If she come no more, what care I?
Faith, let her goe, or come, or tarry.
She is as fair, as she is cruel-hearted.
She would not be intreated, with prayers oft repeated.
If she come no more, shall I die therefore?
If she come no more, what care I?
Faith, let her goe, or come, or tarry.
| Reliques of Ancient English Poetry | |