 | Pastorals |  |
A gentle Swain yfed
in Kentish Mead,
The gentlest Swain that ever Flock did feed.
Soft he beside the Stream of Eden lay,
And graz'd abie the Banks of fair Medway.
Up with the Morn, as lith as Lark, he'd rise;
And Cubbin he, so said him Shepherd Boys.
So as he sate, with Lass or toys the Youth;
Or soft he sooth's, for foft can Cubbin sooth.
There sweetly oped each Flower the little Lip,
Fresh Honey-dew and Evening Air to sip.
Was, when his Cade he'd kiss, and pretty play:
Or bath in Brook, then roll on tender Lea.
Yet happy he, in time, found means to mark
His witless Tattle on a Maple's Bark.
But ah, how should he, poor Boy, 'ere find out,
Lines near enough to deck his Tree about.
Forc'd was he Swains o'rehear behind some balk,
Then on his Tree go print the tender Talk.
Late he abie a Place of Pleasure lay,
All fairly deckt in Sweets of fairest May.
Where silkie Thighs in Dew Grass-hoppers bath'd;
And merry cherruping, so rosie breath'd.
Ye Surrey Swains! and Surrey Swains have bliss;
I dare Ye show so soft a Shade as this!
Atween the dewie Leaves as Air was blown,
The dewie Leaves yquivered every one.
The why he came here was all for two Maids,
He thought, were chatting nigh, of Love and Lads.
He came the one to warn, that Youngling-breast
The less did know of Love, did love the less.
Pity'd her the soft Swain: to warn he strove,
Lest the young Heart might hap to fall in love.
Foreby him sate these Maids in loose Array,
As fair and fresh as Summer Eve might see.
Sweet gay-green Flowers, so pretty put anear,
The Pink and Pancet pretty put anear.
Soflin and Paplet they; (ah dainty They!)
That ripe as Rose, this a soft-aged Mey.
Both lith as Youngling Roe, all-tender too
As Ladybird that lives on twinkling Dew.
Paplet
, a Christian's and a Jewes's Child,
Scarce five Year old, was laid, to starve in Field;
For that the Babe they could no longer hide:
But all by hap an anciant Sire it spy'd;
Just starving; for the tender Teeth been broak;
As twould crack Nutt: It smiled when up he took;
Oh sweet my Father reach that bough of Hips!
What must I do, ah how I've scratch'd my Lips!
He tookt to's Cave; and pull'd the Thorns all out
Her pretty Feet; they bled with walk about.
There brought her up with Florey, fresh his Son,
Who hunts wild Beasts, 'tis what they live epon.
Now sick if Sire or Son, she moans him meet,
Soft tend's, with cheary Chat, and soothing sweet
These gentle Hearts small thought were Cubbin lay;
In sooth some halfendeal undeckt they be.
Honey-lip Gales soft breathed on their Hair,
Waved their Cloaths, and did their Bosoms bare.
And well Iwis, as bare their bosoms, all
The Flowerets out that decked 'em did fall.
A Willow on the bank upheld their Heads,
(Oh happy Tree, to hold such lovely Maids!)
A soothing shade the rosie Sweetbreer gave;
Where sang the Bird that sings so soft at Eve.
Believe Me now, thus show'd they; by my fay
As lovely show'd, as Lilly on the Lea!
But sure that Paplet was the tend'rest Lass!
Well ween I Cubbin lay at little Ease.
So soft she seem'd! By Heav'n seem'd more than soft!
Her Lip to touch he wish'd him, O how oft!
Now soothly Paplet was the tend'rest Mey!
Ah God! I small ween'd could so tender be!
Some-deal her Paps been pufft, that sooth might seem
The Little Life now just of Love gan dream.
Now say me, Shepherds, who could help ha' strove,
To save so sweet a Heart from pain of Love?
Love is a gentle pain, a pretty pain:
He came to keep from loving Soflie's Swain.
Soflin was fair as Morning Drop is fair,
And Paplet tender as the Evening Air.
When chatted they, so sweet their chatting were!
Oh I could hear, methought, for ever hear!
On Fellow first, then Tree, they pretty loll;
Quiver their little Lips, their Eyen roll.
Sooth, ever and anon, as Soflin spoak,
Paplet in extasie would hide her Look.
Then asken more; yet shamed to asken more,
(Of Men and Love) but long'd to know so sore.
Sometimes she'd fling her self epon the Grass:
Then up, and catch in Arms her Fellow-lass.
Why may'nt we Men, yquoth the youngling Mey,
And why may'nt we grasp them? Us graspen they!
So pleased she was, and eager still to know,
In sooth so pleased, she knew not what to do.
But ill I say how sweet the Lasses sate,
Oh that you'd seen 'em, I'd give any what!
This sooth I say (for sooth the Shepherds say)
Soft simpering thus said the Youngling Mey.
The meaning of the Mey no whit I ween.
I'm sure, when near I came, just thus she sain.
The gentlest Swain that ever Flock did feed.
Soft he beside the Stream of Eden lay,
And graz'd abie the Banks of fair Medway.
12
And Cubbin he, so said him Shepherd Boys.
Or soft he sooth's, for foft can Cubbin sooth.
There sweetly oped each Flower the little Lip,
Fresh Honey-dew and Evening Air to sip.
Was, when his Cade he'd kiss, and pretty play:
Or bath in Brook, then roll on tender Lea.
Sooth! would too Rhimes go make as loose he lay,
(Though God-wot, to make Rhimes small Wit had he.)
And wont out-scrawl and print 'em on the Sand,
All as he lay along with Crook in Hand.
(Though God-wot, to make Rhimes small Wit had he.)
And wont out-scrawl and print 'em on the Sand,
All as he lay along with Crook in Hand.
Poor Pen, you'll say:—Ay and poor Poet too!
But 'lack, must do what Heaven will have Us do.
But 'lack, must do what Heaven will have Us do.
13
His witless Tattle on a Maple's Bark.
But ah, how should he, poor Boy, 'ere find out,
Lines near enough to deck his Tree about.
Forc'd was he Swains o'rehear behind some balk,
Then on his Tree go print the tender Talk.
Late he abie a Place of Pleasure lay,
All fairly deckt in Sweets of fairest May.
Where silkie Thighs in Dew Grass-hoppers bath'd;
And merry cherruping, so rosie breath'd.
Ye Surrey Swains! and Surrey Swains have bliss;
I dare Ye show so soft a Shade as this!
Atween the dewie Leaves as Air was blown,
The dewie Leaves yquivered every one.
14
He thought, were chatting nigh, of Love and Lads.
He came the one to warn, that Youngling-breast
The less did know of Love, did love the less.
Pity'd her the soft Swain: to warn he strove,
Lest the young Heart might hap to fall in love.
Foreby him sate these Maids in loose Array,
As fair and fresh as Summer Eve might see.
Sweet gay-green Flowers, so pretty put anear,
The Pink and Pancet pretty put anear.
Soflin and Paplet they; (ah dainty They!)
That ripe as Rose, this a soft-aged Mey.
15
As Ladybird that lives on twinkling Dew.
A soft-aged Mey. or Mai; the d left out; is here used for one younger than we commonly mean by the Word Maid, suppose a Lass of 13 or 14 Years old. Tho' Chaucer uses it indifferently, as it has not the vulgarness of Maid, and is of a sound particularly sweet and simple.
Scarce five Year old, was laid, to starve in Field;
For that the Babe they could no longer hide:
But all by hap an anciant Sire it spy'd;
Just starving; for the tender Teeth been broak;
As twould crack Nutt: It smiled when up he took;
Oh sweet my Father reach that bough of Hips!
What must I do, ah how I've scratch'd my Lips!
He tookt to's Cave; and pull'd the Thorns all out
Her pretty Feet; they bled with walk about.
There brought her up with Florey, fresh his Son,
Who hunts wild Beasts, 'tis what they live epon.
16
Soft tend's, with cheary Chat, and soothing sweet
Paplet, a Christian's, &c. She would have discover'd their Marriage, and occasion'd the Jewes's Death by their Laws.
In sooth some halfendeal undeckt they be.
Honey-lip Gales soft breathed on their Hair,
Waved their Cloaths, and did their Bosoms bare.
And well Iwis, as bare their bosoms, all
The Flowerets out that decked 'em did fall.
(Oh happy Tree, to hold such lovely Maids!)
A soothing shade the rosie Sweetbreer gave;
Where sang the Bird that sings so soft at Eve.
17
As lovely show'd, as Lilly on the Lea!
But sure that Paplet was the tend'rest Lass!
Well ween I Cubbin lay at little Ease.
So soft she seem'd! By Heav'n seem'd more than soft!
Her Lip to touch he wish'd him, O how oft!
Now soothly Paplet was the tend'rest Mey!
Ah God! I small ween'd could so tender be!
Some-deal her Paps been pufft, that sooth might seem
The Little Life now just of Love gan dream.
Now say me, Shepherds, who could help ha' strove,
To save so sweet a Heart from pain of Love?
Love is a gentle pain, a pretty pain:
He came to keep from loving Soflie's Swain.
18
And Paplet tender as the Evening Air.
When chatted they, so sweet their chatting were!
Oh I could hear, methought, for ever hear!
On Fellow first, then Tree, they pretty loll;
Quiver their little Lips, their Eyen roll.
Sooth, ever and anon, as Soflin spoak,
Paplet in extasie would hide her Look.
Then asken more; yet shamed to asken more,
(Of Men and Love) but long'd to know so sore.
Sometimes she'd fling her self epon the Grass:
Then up, and catch in Arms her Fellow-lass.
Why may'nt we Men, yquoth the youngling Mey,
And why may'nt we grasp them? Us graspen they!
So pleased she was, and eager still to know,
In sooth so pleased, she knew not what to do.
19
Oh that you'd seen 'em, I'd give any what!
This sooth I say (for sooth the Shepherds say)
Soft simpering thus said the Youngling Mey.
The meaning of the Mey no whit I ween.
I'm sure, when near I came, just thus she sain.
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