The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] ... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | IV. |
|
|
|
|
BALLADE,
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
115
BALLADE,
By Vere, Earl of Oxford.
Where is the mayde that erst was myne,
Who did with love myne harte begile!
No more on me doeth beauty shine,
No more I proudly boaste her smile.
Who did with love myne harte begile!
No more on me doeth beauty shine,
No more I proudly boaste her smile.
The roses of her cheek so bright,
Her lippe of berries' purple hue,
No more for me may blush delyte;
To them may Fansie say, adieu.
Her lippe of berries' purple hue,
No more for me may blush delyte;
To them may Fansie say, adieu.
When I did first her lookes beholde,
Me seemes 'twas summer in her eye;
Me seemes I mark'd two sunnes of golde,
Upon her face's smiling skye.
Me seemes 'twas summer in her eye;
Me seemes I mark'd two sunnes of golde,
Upon her face's smiling skye.
Me seemes that on her roseate cheeke
I spyed the season of the springe;
And when that she did courteous speke,
The feather'd minstrels seem'd to singe.
I spyed the season of the springe;
And when that she did courteous speke,
The feather'd minstrels seem'd to singe.
But all is past and gone, I weene:
From her I meete with icy cold;
I marke no more her eyes' bright sheen,
Nor marke her sunnes of brightest golde.
From her I meete with icy cold;
I marke no more her eyes' bright sheen,
Nor marke her sunnes of brightest golde.
Sadde is the chaunge sith she's unkynde:
Now cloudes all mirkie darke my daye;
For Zephyrus blow wynter wyndes,
And frost hath kill'd the gentle May.
Now cloudes all mirkie darke my daye;
For Zephyrus blow wynter wyndes,
And frost hath kill'd the gentle May.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |