The Works of Thomas Campion Complete Songs, Masques, and Treatises with a Selection of the Latin Verse: Edited with an introduction and notes by Walter R. Davis |
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| TWO BOOKES OF AYRES.
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 | The Works of Thomas Campion |  |
51
TWO BOOKES OF AYRES.
THE FIRST Contayning Divine and Morall Songs: THE SECOND, Light Conceits of Lovers. Composed By Thomas Campian.
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TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, BOTH in Birth and Vertue, FRANCIS, Earle of CUMBERLAND.
What Patron could I chuse, great Lord, but you?
Grave words your years may challenge as their owne,
And ev'ry note of Musicke is your due,
Whose House the Muses pallace I have knowne.
Grave words your years may challenge as their owne,
And ev'ry note of Musicke is your due,
Whose House the Muses pallace I have knowne.
To love and cherish them, though it descends
With many honours more on you, in vaine
Preceding fame herein with you contends,
Who have both fed the Muses, and their trayne.
With many honours more on you, in vaine
Preceding fame herein with you contends,
Who have both fed the Muses, and their trayne.
These Leaves I offer you, Devotion might
Her selfe lay open, reade them, or else heare
How gravely with their tunes they yeeld delight
To any vertuous, and not curious eare.
Such as they are accept them, Noble Lord;
If better, better could my zeale afford.
Her selfe lay open, reade them, or else heare
How gravely with their tunes they yeeld delight
To any vertuous, and not curious eare.
Such as they are accept them, Noble Lord;
If better, better could my zeale afford.
Your Honors, THOMAS CAMPIAN.
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THE FIRST BOOKE
[Songs of 4. Parts.]
I.
[Author of light, revive my dying spright]
Author of light, revive my dying spright,
Redeeme it from the snares of all-confounding night.
Lord, light me to thy blessed way:
For, blinde with worldly vaine desires, I wander as a stray.
Sunne and Moone, Starres and underlights I see,
But all their glorious beames are mists and darknes, being compar'd to thee.
Redeeme it from the snares of all-confounding night.
Lord, light me to thy blessed way:
For, blinde with worldly vaine desires, I wander as a stray.
Sunne and Moone, Starres and underlights I see,
But all their glorious beames are mists and darknes, being compar'd to thee.
Fountaine of health, my soules deepe wounds recure,
Sweet showres of pitty raine, wash my uncleannesse pure.
One drop of thy desired grace
The faint and fading hart can raise, and in joyes bosome place.
Sinne and Death, Hell and tempting Fiends may rage;
But God his owne will guard, and their sharp paines and griefe in time asswage.
Sweet showres of pitty raine, wash my uncleannesse pure.
One drop of thy desired grace
The faint and fading hart can raise, and in joyes bosome place.
Sinne and Death, Hell and tempting Fiends may rage;
But God his owne will guard, and their sharp paines and griefe in time asswage.
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II.
[The man of life upright]
The man of life upright,
Whose chearfull minde is free
From waight of impious deedes,
And yoake of vanitee,
Whose chearfull minde is free
From waight of impious deedes,
And yoake of vanitee,
The man whose silent dayes
In harmelesse joyes are spent:
Whom hopes cannot delude,
Nor sorrowes discontent,
In harmelesse joyes are spent:
Whom hopes cannot delude,
Nor sorrowes discontent,
That man needes neyther towres,
Nor armour for defence:
Nor vaults his guilt to shrowd
From thunders violence;
Nor armour for defence:
Nor vaults his guilt to shrowd
From thunders violence;
Hee onely can behold
With unaffrighted eyes
The horrors of the deepe,
And terrors of the Skies.
With unaffrighted eyes
The horrors of the deepe,
And terrors of the Skies.
Thus, scorning all the cares
That fate or fortune brings,
His Booke the Heav'ns hee makes,
His wisedome heav'nly things.
That fate or fortune brings,
His Booke the Heav'ns hee makes,
His wisedome heav'nly things.
Good thoughts his surest friends,
His wealth a well-spent age,
The earth his sober Inne,
And quiet pilgrimage.
His wealth a well-spent age,
The earth his sober Inne,
And quiet pilgrimage.
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III.
[Where are all thy beauties now, all harts enchayning?]
Where are all thy beauties now, all harts enchayning?
Whither are thy flatt'rers gone with all their fayning?
All fled; and thou alone still here remayning.
Whither are thy flatt'rers gone with all their fayning?
All fled; and thou alone still here remayning.
Thy rich state of twisted gold to Bayes is turned;
Cold as thou art, are thy loves that so much burned:
Who dye in flatt'rers armes are seldome mourned.
Cold as thou art, are thy loves that so much burned:
Who dye in flatt'rers armes are seldome mourned.
Yet, in spight of envie, this be still proclaymed,
That none worthyer then thy selfe thy worth hath blamed:
When their poore names are lost, thou shalt live famed.
That none worthyer then thy selfe thy worth hath blamed:
When their poore names are lost, thou shalt live famed.
When thy story, long time hence, shall be perused,
Let the blemish of thy rule be thus excused:
None ever liv'd more just, none more abused.
Let the blemish of thy rule be thus excused:
None ever liv'd more just, none more abused.
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IV.
[Out of my soules deapth to thee my cryes have sounded]
Out of my soules deapth to thee my cryes have sounded:
Let thine eares my plaints receive, on just feare grounded.
Lord, should'st thou weigh our faults, who's not confounded?
Let thine eares my plaints receive, on just feare grounded.
Lord, should'st thou weigh our faults, who's not confounded?
But with grace thou censur'st thine when they have erred,
Therefore shall thy blessed name be lov'd and feared:
Ev'n to thy throne my thoughts and eyes are reared.
Therefore shall thy blessed name be lov'd and feared:
Ev'n to thy throne my thoughts and eyes are reared.
Thee alone my hopes attend, on thee relying;
In thy sacred word I'le trust, to thee fast flying,
Long ere the Watch shall breake, the morne descrying.
In thy sacred word I'le trust, to thee fast flying,
Long ere the Watch shall breake, the morne descrying.
In the mercies of our God who live secured,
May of full redemption rest in him assured;
Their sinne-sicke soules by him shall be recured.
May of full redemption rest in him assured;
Their sinne-sicke soules by him shall be recured.
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V.
[View mee, Lord, a worke of thine]
View mee, Lord, a worke of thine:
Shall I then lye drown'd in night?
Might thy grace in mee but shine,
I should seeme made all of light.
Shall I then lye drown'd in night?
Might thy grace in mee but shine,
I should seeme made all of light.
But my soule still surfets so
On the poysoned baytes of sinne,
That I strange and ugly growe,
All is darke and foule within.
On the poysoned baytes of sinne,
That I strange and ugly growe,
All is darke and foule within.
Clense mee, Lord, that I may kneele
At thine Altar, pure and white:
They that once thy Mercies feele
Gaze no more on earths delight.
At thine Altar, pure and white:
They that once thy Mercies feele
Gaze no more on earths delight.
Worldly joyes like shadowes fade,
When the heav'nly light appeares;
But the cov'nants thou hast made,
Endlesse, know nor dayes, nor yeares.
When the heav'nly light appeares;
But the cov'nants thou hast made,
Endlesse, know nor dayes, nor yeares.
In thy word, Lord, is my trust,
To thy mercies fast I flye;
Though I am but clay and dust,
Yet thy grace can lift me high.
To thy mercies fast I flye;
Though I am but clay and dust,
Yet thy grace can lift me high.
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VI.
[Bravely deckt, come forth, bright day]
Bravely deckt, come forth, bright day,
Thine houres with Roses strew thy way,
As they well remember.
Thou receiv'd shalt be with feasts:
Come, chiefest of the British ghests,
Thou fift of November.
Thou with triumph shalt exceede
In the strictest ember;
For by thy returne the Lord records his blessed deede.
Thine houres with Roses strew thy way,
As they well remember.
Thou receiv'd shalt be with feasts:
Come, chiefest of the British ghests,
Thou fift of November.
Thou with triumph shalt exceede
In the strictest ember;
For by thy returne the Lord records his blessed deede.
Britaines, frolicke at your bourd,
But first sing praises to the Lord
In your Congregations.
Hee preserv'd your state alone,
His loving grace hath made you one
Of his chosen Nations.
But this light must hallowed be
With your best Oblations;
Prayse the Lord, for onely great and mercifull is hee.
But first sing praises to the Lord
In your Congregations.
Hee preserv'd your state alone,
His loving grace hath made you one
Of his chosen Nations.
But this light must hallowed be
With your best Oblations;
Prayse the Lord, for onely great and mercifull is hee.
Death had enter'd in the gate,
And ruine was crept neare the State;
But heav'n all revealed.
Fi'ry Power hell did make,
Which, ready long the flame to take,
Lay in shade concealed.
God us helpt of his free grace,
None to him appealed;
For none was so bad to feare the treason or the place.
And ruine was crept neare the State;
But heav'n all revealed.
Fi'ry Power hell did make,
Which, ready long the flame to take,
Lay in shade concealed.
God us helpt of his free grace,
None to him appealed;
For none was so bad to feare the treason or the place.
God his peacefull Monarch chose,
To him the mist he did disclose,
To him, and none other;
This hee did, O King, for thee,
That thou thine owne renowne might'st see,
Which no time can smother.
May blest Charles thy comfort be,
Firmer then his Brother:
May his heart the love of peace, and wisedome learne from thee.
To him the mist he did disclose,
To him, and none other;
This hee did, O King, for thee,
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Which no time can smother.
May blest Charles thy comfort be,
Firmer then his Brother:
May his heart the love of peace, and wisedome learne from thee.
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VII.
[To Musicke bent is my retyred minde]
To Musicke bent is my retyred minde,
And faine would I some song of pleasure sing:
But in vaine joyes no comfort now I finde:
From heav'nly thoughts all true delight doth spring.
Thy power, O God, thy mercies to record
Will sweeten ev'ry note, and ev'ry word.
And faine would I some song of pleasure sing:
But in vaine joyes no comfort now I finde:
From heav'nly thoughts all true delight doth spring.
Thy power, O God, thy mercies to record
Will sweeten ev'ry note, and ev'ry word.
All earthly pompe or beauty to expresse,
Is but to carve in snow, on waves to write.
Celestiall things, though men conceive them lesse,
Yet fullest are they in themselves of light:
Such beames they yeeld as know no meanes to dye:
Such heate they cast as lifts the Spirit high.
Is but to carve in snow, on waves to write.
Celestiall things, though men conceive them lesse,
Yet fullest are they in themselves of light:
Such beames they yeeld as know no meanes to dye:
Such heate they cast as lifts the Spirit high.
VIII.
[Tune thy Musicke to thy hart]
Tune thy Musicke to thy hart,
Sing thy joy with thankes, and so thy sorrow:
Though Devotion needes not Art,
Sometime of the poore the rich may borrow.
Sing thy joy with thankes, and so thy sorrow:
Though Devotion needes not Art,
Sometime of the poore the rich may borrow.
Strive not yet for curious wayes:
Concord pleaseth more, the lesse 'tis strained;
Zeale affects not outward prayse,
Onely strives to shew a love unfained.
Concord pleaseth more, the lesse 'tis strained;
Zeale affects not outward prayse,
Onely strives to shew a love unfained.
Love can wondrous things effect,
Sweetest Sacrifice, all wrath appeasing;
Love the highest doth respect,
Love alone to him is ever pleasing.
Sweetest Sacrifice, all wrath appeasing;
Love the highest doth respect,
Love alone to him is ever pleasing.
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IX.
[Most sweet and pleasing are thy wayes, O God]
Most sweet and pleasing are thy wayes, O God,
Like Meadowes deckt with Christall streames and flowers:
Thy paths no foote prophane hath ever trod,
Nor hath the proud man rested in thy Bowers.
There lives no Vultur, no devouring Beare,
But onely Doves and Lambs are harbor'd there.
Like Meadowes deckt with Christall streames and flowers:
Thy paths no foote prophane hath ever trod,
Nor hath the proud man rested in thy Bowers.
There lives no Vultur, no devouring Beare,
But onely Doves and Lambs are harbor'd there.
The Wolfe his young ones to their prey doth guide;
The Foxe his Cubbs with false deceit endues;
The Lyons Whelpe suckes from his Damme his pride;
In hers the Serpent malice doth infuse:
The darksome Desart all such beasts contaynes,
Not one of them in Paradice remaynes.
The Foxe his Cubbs with false deceit endues;
The Lyons Whelpe suckes from his Damme his pride;
In hers the Serpent malice doth infuse:
The darksome Desart all such beasts contaynes,
Not one of them in Paradice remaynes.
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X.
[Wise men patience never want]
Wise men patience never want,
Good men pitty cannot hide:
Feeble spirits onely vant
Of revenge, the poorest pride.
Hee alone forgive that can
Beares the true soule of a man.
Good men pitty cannot hide:
Feeble spirits onely vant
Of revenge, the poorest pride.
Hee alone forgive that can
Beares the true soule of a man.
Some there are, debate that seeke,
Making trouble their content,
Happy if they wrong the meeke,
Vexe them that to peace are bent:
Such undooe the common tye
Of mankinde, societie.
Making trouble their content,
Happy if they wrong the meeke,
Vexe them that to peace are bent:
Such undooe the common tye
Of mankinde, societie.
Kindnesse growne is, lately, colde;
Conscience hath forgot her part;
Blessed times were knowne of old,
Long ere Law became an Art:
Shame deterr'd, not Statutes then,
Honest love was law to men.
Conscience hath forgot her part;
Blessed times were knowne of old,
Long ere Law became an Art:
Shame deterr'd, not Statutes then,
Honest love was law to men.
Deeds from love, and words, that flowe
Foster like kinde Aprill showres;
In the warme Sunne all things grow,
Wholsome fruits and pleasant flowres;
All so thrives his gentle rayes,
Where on humane love displayes.
Foster like kinde Aprill showres;
In the warme Sunne all things grow,
Wholsome fruits and pleasant flowres;
All so thrives his gentle rayes,
Where on humane love displayes.
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XI.
[Never weather-beaten Saile more willing bent to shore]
Never weather-beaten Saile more willing bent to shore,
Never tyred Pilgrims limbs affected slumber more,
Then my weary spright now longs to flye out of my troubled brest.
O come quickly, sweetest Lord, and take my soule to rest.
Never tyred Pilgrims limbs affected slumber more,
Then my weary spright now longs to flye out of my troubled brest.
O come quickly, sweetest Lord, and take my soule to rest.
Ever-blooming are the joyes of Heav'ns high paradice,
Cold age deafes not there our eares, nor vapour dims our eyes;
Glory there the Sun outshines, whose beames the blessed onely see:
O come quickly, glorious Lord, and raise my spright to thee.
Cold age deafes not there our eares, nor vapour dims our eyes;
Glory there the Sun outshines, whose beames the blessed onely see:
O come quickly, glorious Lord, and raise my spright to thee.
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XII.
[Lift up to heav'n, sad wretch, thy heavy spright]
Lift up to heav'n, sad wretch, thy heavy spright,
What though thy sinnes thy due destruction threat?
The Lord exceedes in mercy as in might;
His ruth is greater, though thy crimes be great.
Repentance needes not feare the heav'ns just rod,
It stayes ev'n thunder in the hand of God.
What though thy sinnes thy due destruction threat?
The Lord exceedes in mercy as in might;
His ruth is greater, though thy crimes be great.
Repentance needes not feare the heav'ns just rod,
It stayes ev'n thunder in the hand of God.
With chearefull voyce to him then cry for grace,
Thy Faith, and fainting Hope, with Prayer revive;
Remorce for all that truely mourne hath place;
Not God, but men of him themselves deprive:
Strive then, and hee will help; call him, hee'll heare:
The Sonne needes not the Fathers fury feare.
Thy Faith, and fainting Hope, with Prayer revive;
Remorce for all that truely mourne hath place;
Not God, but men of him themselves deprive:
Strive then, and hee will help; call him, hee'll heare:
The Sonne needes not the Fathers fury feare.
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XIII.
[Loe, when backe mine eye]
Loe, when backe mine eye,
Pilgrim-like, I cast,
What fearefull wayes I spye,
Which, blinded, I securely past!
Pilgrim-like, I cast,
What fearefull wayes I spye,
Which, blinded, I securely past!
But now heav'n hath drawne
From my browes that night;
As when the day doth dawne,
So cleares my long imprison'd sight.
From my browes that night;
As when the day doth dawne,
So cleares my long imprison'd sight.
Straight the caves of hell
Drest with flowres I see,
Wherein false pleasures dwell,
That, winning most, most deadly be.
Drest with flowres I see,
Wherein false pleasures dwell,
That, winning most, most deadly be.
Throngs of masked Feinds,
Wing'd like Angels, flye,
Ev'n in the gates of Friends;
In faire disguise blacke dangers lye.
Wing'd like Angels, flye,
Ev'n in the gates of Friends;
In faire disguise blacke dangers lye.
Straight to Heav'n I rais'd
My restored sight,
And with loud voyce I prais'd
The Lord of ever-during light.
My restored sight,
And with loud voyce I prais'd
The Lord of ever-during light.
And, since I had stray'd
From his wayes so wide,
His grace I humbly pray'd
Hence-forth to be my guard and guide.
From his wayes so wide,
His grace I humbly pray'd
Hence-forth to be my guard and guide.
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XIV.
[As by the streames of Babilon]
As by the streames of Babilon,
Farre from our native soyle we sat,
Sweet Sion, thee we thought upon,
And ev'ry thought a teare begat.
Farre from our native soyle we sat,
Sweet Sion, thee we thought upon,
And ev'ry thought a teare begat.
Aloft the trees that spring up there
Our silent Harps wee pensive hung:
Said they that captiv'd us, Let's heare
Some song which you in Sion sung.
Our silent Harps wee pensive hung:
Said they that captiv'd us, Let's heare
Some song which you in Sion sung.
Is then the song of our God fit
To be prophan'd in forraine land?
O Salem, thee when I forget,
Forget his skill may my right hand!
To be prophan'd in forraine land?
O Salem, thee when I forget,
Forget his skill may my right hand!
Fast to the roofe cleave may my tongue,
If mindelesse I of thee be found:
Or if, when all my joyes are sung,
Jerusalem be not the ground.
If mindelesse I of thee be found:
Or if, when all my joyes are sung,
Jerusalem be not the ground.
Remember, Lord, how Edoms race
Cryed in Jerusalems sad day,
Hurle downe her wals, her towres deface;
And, stone by stone, all levell lay.
Cryed in Jerusalems sad day,
Hurle downe her wals, her towres deface;
And, stone by stone, all levell lay.
Curst Babels seede! for Salems sake
Just ruine yet for thee remaines!
Blest shall they be, thy babes that take,
And 'gainst the stones dash out their braines!
Just ruine yet for thee remaines!
Blest shall they be, thy babes that take,
And 'gainst the stones dash out their braines!
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XV.
[Sing a song of joy]
Sing a song of joy,
Prayse our God with mirth:
His flocke who can destroy?
Is hee not Lord of heav'n and earth?
Prayse our God with mirth:
His flocke who can destroy?
Is hee not Lord of heav'n and earth?
Sing wee then secure,
Tuning well our strings:
With voyce, as Eccho pure,
Let us renowne the King of Kings.
Tuning well our strings:
With voyce, as Eccho pure,
Let us renowne the King of Kings.
First who taught the day
From the East to rise?
Whom doth the Sunne obey
When in the Seas his glory dyes?
From the East to rise?
Whom doth the Sunne obey
When in the Seas his glory dyes?
Hee the Starres directs
That in order stand:
Who heav'n and earth protects,
But hee that fram'd them with his hand?
That in order stand:
Who heav'n and earth protects,
But hee that fram'd them with his hand?
Angels round attend,
Wayting on his will;
Arm'd millions he doth send
To ayde the good or plague the ill.
Wayting on his will;
Arm'd millions he doth send
To ayde the good or plague the ill.
All that dread his Name,
And his Hests observe,
His arme will shield from shame:
Their steps from truth shall never swerve.
And his Hests observe,
His arme will shield from shame:
Their steps from truth shall never swerve.
Let us then rejoyce,
Sounding loud his prayse:
So will hee heare our voyce,
And blesse on earth our peacefull dayes.
Sounding loud his prayse:
So will hee heare our voyce,
And blesse on earth our peacefull dayes.
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XVI.
[Awake, awake, thou heavy spright]
Awake, awake, thou heavy spright,
That sleep'st the deadly sleepe of sinne;
Rise now, and walke the wayes of light:
'Tis not too late yet to begin.
Seeke heav'n earely, seeke it late,
True Faith still findes an open gate.
That sleep'st the deadly sleepe of sinne;
Rise now, and walke the wayes of light:
'Tis not too late yet to begin.
Seeke heav'n earely, seeke it late,
True Faith still findes an open gate.
Get up, get up, thou leaden man:
Thy tracks to endlesse joy or paine
Yeelds but the modell of a span;
Yet burnes out thy lifes lampe in vaine.
One minute bounds thy bane, or blisse,
Then watch, and labour while time is.
Thy tracks to endlesse joy or paine
Yeelds but the modell of a span;
Yet burnes out thy lifes lampe in vaine.
One minute bounds thy bane, or blisse,
Then watch, and labour while time is.
[Songs of 3. Parts.]
XVII.
[Come, chearfull day, part of my life, to mee]
Come, chearfull day, part of my life, to mee:
For, while thou view'st me with thy fading light,
Part of my life doth still depart with thee,
And I still onward haste to my last night.
Times fatall wings doe ever forward flye,
Soe ev'ry day we live, a day wee dye.
For, while thou view'st me with thy fading light,
Part of my life doth still depart with thee,
And I still onward haste to my last night.
Times fatall wings doe ever forward flye,
Soe ev'ry day we live, a day wee dye.
But, O yee nights ordain'd for barren rest,
How are my dayes depriv'd of life in you,
When heavy sleepe my soule hath dispossest,
By fayned death life sweetly to renew!
Part of my life, in that, you life denye:
So ev'ry day we live, a day wee dye.
How are my dayes depriv'd of life in you,
When heavy sleepe my soule hath dispossest,
By fayned death life sweetly to renew!
Part of my life, in that, you life denye:
So ev'ry day we live, a day wee dye.
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XVIII.
[Seeke the Lord, and in his wayes persever]
Seeke the Lord, and in his wayes persever:
O faint not, but as Eagles flye,
For his steepe hill is high;
Then, striving, gaine the top, and triumph ever.
O faint not, but as Eagles flye,
For his steepe hill is high;
Then, striving, gaine the top, and triumph ever.
When with glory there thy browes are crowned,
New joyes so shall abound in thee,
Such sights thy soule shall see,
That wordly thoughts shall by their beames be drowned.
New joyes so shall abound in thee,
Such sights thy soule shall see,
That wordly thoughts shall by their beames be drowned.
Farewell, World, thou masse of meere confusion,
False light with many shadowes dimm'd,
Old Witch with new foyles trimm'd,
Thou deadly sleepe of soule, and charm'd illusion.
False light with many shadowes dimm'd,
Old Witch with new foyles trimm'd,
Thou deadly sleepe of soule, and charm'd illusion.
I the King will seeke of Kings adored,
Spring of light, tree of grace and blisse,
Whose fruit so sov'raigne is
That all who taste it are from death restored.
Spring of light, tree of grace and blisse,
Whose fruit so sov'raigne is
That all who taste it are from death restored.
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XIX.
[Lighten, heavy hart, thy spright]
Lighten, heavy hart, thy spright,
The joyes recall that thence are fled;
Yeeld thy brest some living light:
The man that nothing doth is dead.
Tune thy temper to these sounds,
And quicken so thy joylesse minde;
Sloth the worst and best confounds:
It is the ruine of mankinde.
The joyes recall that thence are fled;
Yeeld thy brest some living light:
The man that nothing doth is dead.
Tune thy temper to these sounds,
And quicken so thy joylesse minde;
Sloth the worst and best confounds:
It is the ruine of mankinde.
From her cave rise all distasts,
Which unresolv'd Despaire pursues;
Whom soone after Violence hasts,
Her selfe ungratefull to abuse.
Skies are clear'd with stirring windes,
Th'unmoved water moorish growes;
Ev'ry eye much pleasure findes
To view a streame that brightly flowes.
Which unresolv'd Despaire pursues;
Whom soone after Violence hasts,
Her selfe ungratefull to abuse.
Skies are clear'd with stirring windes,
Th'unmoved water moorish growes;
Ev'ry eye much pleasure findes
To view a streame that brightly flowes.
80
XX.
[Jacke and Jone, they thinke no ill]
Jacke and Jone, they thinke no ill,
But loving live, and merry still;
Doe their weeke dayes worke, and pray
Devotely on the holy day;
Skip and trip it on the greene,
And help to chuse the Summer Queene;
Lash out, at a Country Feast,
Their silver penny with the best.
But loving live, and merry still;
Doe their weeke dayes worke, and pray
Devotely on the holy day;
Skip and trip it on the greene,
And help to chuse the Summer Queene;
Lash out, at a Country Feast,
Their silver penny with the best.
Well can they judge of nappy Ale,
And tell at large a Winter tale;
Climbe up to the Apple loft,
And turne the Crabs till they be soft.
Tib is all the fathers joy,
And little Tom the mothers boy.
All their pleasure is content;
And care, to pay their yearely rent.
And tell at large a Winter tale;
Climbe up to the Apple loft,
And turne the Crabs till they be soft.
Tib is all the fathers joy,
And little Tom the mothers boy.
All their pleasure is content;
And care, to pay their yearely rent.
Jone can call by name her Cowes,
And decke her windowes with greene boughs;
Shee can wreathes and tuttyes make,
And trimme with plums a Bridall Cake.
Jacke knowes what brings gaine or losse,
And his long Flaile can stoutly tosse;
Make the hedge, which others breake,
And ever thinkes what he doth speake.
And decke her windowes with greene boughs;
Shee can wreathes and tuttyes make,
And trimme with plums a Bridall Cake.
Jacke knowes what brings gaine or losse,
And his long Flaile can stoutly tosse;
Make the hedge, which others breake,
And ever thinkes what he doth speake.
Now, you Courtly Dames and Knights,
That study onely strange delights,
Though you scorne the home-spun gray,
And revell in your rich array;
Though your tongues dissemble deepe,
And can your heads from danger keepe;
Yet, for all your pompe and traine,
Securer lives the silly Swaine.
That study onely strange delights,
Though you scorne the home-spun gray,
And revell in your rich array;
Though your tongues dissemble deepe,
And can your heads from danger keepe;
Yet, for all your pompe and traine,
Securer lives the silly Swaine.
81
[Songs of 2. Parts.]
XXI.
[All lookes be pale, harts cold as stone.]
All lookes be pale, harts cold as stone.
For Hally now is dead, and gone,
Hally, in whose sight,
Most sweet sight,
All the earth late tooke delight.
Ev'ry eye, weepe with mee,
Joyes drown'd in teares must be.
For Hally now is dead, and gone,
Hally, in whose sight,
Most sweet sight,
All the earth late tooke delight.
Ev'ry eye, weepe with mee,
Joyes drown'd in teares must be.
His Iv'ry skin, his comely hayre,
His Rosie cheekes, so cleare and faire,
Eyes that once did grace
His bright face,
Now in him all want their place.
Eyes and hearts, weepe with mee,
For who so kinde as hee?
His Rosie cheekes, so cleare and faire,
Eyes that once did grace
His bright face,
Now in him all want their place.
Eyes and hearts, weepe with mee,
For who so kinde as hee?
His youth was like an Aprill flowre,
Adorn'd with beauty, love, and powre;
Glory strow'd his way,
Whose wreaths gay
Now are all turn'd to decay.
Then againe weepe with mee,
None feele more cause then wee.
Adorn'd with beauty, love, and powre;
Glory strow'd his way,
Whose wreaths gay
Now are all turn'd to decay.
Then againe weepe with mee,
None feele more cause then wee.
No more may his wisht sight returne,
His golden Lampe no more can burne;
Quencht is all his flame,
His hop't fame
Now hath left him nought but name.
For him all weepe with mee,
Since more him none shall see.
His golden Lampe no more can burne;
Quencht is all his flame,
His hop't fame
Now hath left him nought but name.
For him all weepe with mee,
Since more him none shall see.
83
THE SECOND BOOKE OF AYRES. Containing Light Conceits of Lovers.
84
TO THE RIGHT NOBLE, AND VERTUOUS, HENRY LORD CLIFFORD,
Sonne and Heyre to the Right Honourable, FRANCIS, Earle of CUMBERLAND.
Such dayes as weare the badge of holy red
Are for devotion markt, and sage delight;
The vulgar Low-dayes, undistinguished,
Are left for labour, games, and sportfull sights.
Are for devotion markt, and sage delight;
The vulgar Low-dayes, undistinguished,
Are left for labour, games, and sportfull sights.
This sev'rall and so diff'ring use of Time
Within th'enclosure of one weeke wee finde;
Which I resemble in my Notes and Rime,
Expressing both in their peculiar kinde.
Within th'enclosure of one weeke wee finde;
Which I resemble in my Notes and Rime,
Expressing both in their peculiar kinde.
Pure Hymnes, such as the seaventh day loves, doe leade;
Grave age did justly chalenge those of mee:
These weeke-day workes, in order that succeede,
Your youth best fits, and yours, yong Lord, they be:
As hee is, who to them their beeing gave;
If th'one, the other you of force must have.
Grave age did justly chalenge those of mee:
These weeke-day workes, in order that succeede,
Your youth best fits, and yours, yong Lord, they be:
As hee is, who to them their beeing gave;
If th'one, the other you of force must have.
Your Honors, THOMAS CAMPIAN.
85
TO THE READER.
That holy Hymnes with Lovers cares are knitBoth in one Quire here, thou maist think't unfit;
Why do'st not blame the Stationer as well,
Who in the same Shop sets all sorts to sell?
Divine with stiles prophane, grave shelv'd with vaine;
And some matcht worse, yet none of him complaine.
[Songs of 3. Parts.]
I.
[Vaine men, whose follies make a God of Love]
Vaine men, whose follies make a God of Love,
Whose blindnesse beauty doth immortall deeme:
Prayse not what you desire, but what you prove,
Count those things good that are, not those that seeme:
I cannot call her true that's false to me,
Nor make of women more then women be.
Whose blindnesse beauty doth immortall deeme:
Prayse not what you desire, but what you prove,
Count those things good that are, not those that seeme:
I cannot call her true that's false to me,
Nor make of women more then women be.
How faire an entrance breakes the way to love!
How rich of golden hope, and gay delight!
What hart cannot a modest beauty move?
Who, seeing cleare day once, will dreame of night?
Shee seem'd a Saint, that brake her faith with mee,
But prov'd a woman, as all other be.
How rich of golden hope, and gay delight!
What hart cannot a modest beauty move?
Who, seeing cleare day once, will dreame of night?
Shee seem'd a Saint, that brake her faith with mee,
But prov'd a woman, as all other be.
So bitter is their sweet, that true content
Unhappy men in them may never finde;
Ah, but without them, none; both must consent,
Else uncouth are the joyes of eyther kinde.
Let us then prayse their good, forget their ill:
Men must be men, and women women still.
Unhappy men in them may never finde;
Ah, but without them, none; both must consent,
Else uncouth are the joyes of eyther kinde.
Let us then prayse their good, forget their ill:
Men must be men, and women women still.
86
II.
[How eas'ly wert thou chained]
How eas'ly wert thou chained,
Fond hart, by favours fained!
Why liv'd thy hopes in grace,
Straight to dye disdained?
But, since th'art now beguiled
By Love that falsely smiled,
In some lesse happy place
Mourne alone exiled.
My love still here increaseth,
And with my love my griefe,
While her sweet bounty ceaseth,
That gave my woes reliefe.
Yet 'tis no woman leaves me,
For such may prove unjust:
A Goddesse thus deceives me,
Whose faith who could mistrust?
Fond hart, by favours fained!
Why liv'd thy hopes in grace,
Straight to dye disdained?
But, since th'art now beguiled
By Love that falsely smiled,
In some lesse happy place
Mourne alone exiled.
My love still here increaseth,
And with my love my griefe,
While her sweet bounty ceaseth,
That gave my woes reliefe.
Yet 'tis no woman leaves me,
For such may prove unjust:
A Goddesse thus deceives me,
Whose faith who could mistrust?
A Goddesse so much graced
That Paradice is placed
In her most heav'nly brest,
Once by love embraced;
But love, that so kinde proved,
Is now from her removed,
Nor will he longer rest
Where no faith is loved.
If Powres Celestiall wound us
And will not yeeld reliefe,
Woe then must needs confound us,
For none can cure our griefe.
No wonder if I languish
Through burden of my smart;
It is no common anguish
From Paradice to part.
That Paradice is placed
In her most heav'nly brest,
Once by love embraced;
But love, that so kinde proved,
Is now from her removed,
Nor will he longer rest
Where no faith is loved.
If Powres Celestiall wound us
And will not yeeld reliefe,
Woe then must needs confound us,
For none can cure our griefe.
No wonder if I languish
Through burden of my smart;
It is no common anguish
From Paradice to part.
88
III.
[Harden now thy tyred hart with more then flinty rage]
Harden now thy tyred hart with more then flinty rage;
Ne'er let her false teares henceforth thy constant griefe asswage.
Once true happy dayes thou saw'st, when shee stood firme and kinde,
Both as one then liv'd, and held one eare, one tongue, one minde.
But now those bright houres be fled, and never may returne:
What then remaines, but her untruths to mourne?
Ne'er let her false teares henceforth thy constant griefe asswage.
Once true happy dayes thou saw'st, when shee stood firme and kinde,
Both as one then liv'd, and held one eare, one tongue, one minde.
But now those bright houres be fled, and never may returne:
What then remaines, but her untruths to mourne?
Silly Tray-tresse, who shall now thy carelesse tresses place?
Who thy pretty talke supply? whose eare thy musicke grace?
Who shall thy bright eyes admire? what lips triumph with thine?
Day by day who'll visit thee and say, th'art onely mine?
Such a time there was, God wot, but such shall never be:
Too oft, I feare, thou wilt remember me.
Who thy pretty talke supply? whose eare thy musicke grace?
Who shall thy bright eyes admire? what lips triumph with thine?
Day by day who'll visit thee and say, th'art onely mine?
Such a time there was, God wot, but such shall never be:
Too oft, I feare, thou wilt remember me.
89
IV.
[O what unhop't for sweet supply!]
O what unhop't for sweet supply!
O what joyes exceeding!
What an affecting charme feele I,
From delight proceeding!
That which I long despair'd to be,
To her I am, and shee to mee.
O what joyes exceeding!
What an affecting charme feele I,
From delight proceeding!
That which I long despair'd to be,
To her I am, and shee to mee.
Shee that alone in cloudy griefe
Long to mee appeared,
Shee now alone with bright reliefe
All those clouds hath cleared.
Both are immortall, and divine,
Since I am hers, and she is mine.
Long to mee appeared,
Shee now alone with bright reliefe
All those clouds hath cleared.
Both are immortall, and divine,
Since I am hers, and she is mine.
90
V.
[Where shee her sacred bowre adornes]
Where shee her sacred bowre adornes,
The Rivers clearely flow:
The groves and medowes swell with flowres,
The windes all gently blow:
Her Sunne-like beauty shines so fayre,
Her Spring can never fade:
Who then can blame the life that strives
To harbour in her shade?
The Rivers clearely flow:
The groves and medowes swell with flowres,
The windes all gently blow:
Her Sunne-like beauty shines so fayre,
Her Spring can never fade:
Who then can blame the life that strives
To harbour in her shade?
Her grace I sought, her love I wooed;
Her love though I obtaine,
No time, no toyle, no vow, no faith
Her wished grace can gaine.
Yet truth can tell my heart is hers,
And her will I adore:
And from that love when I depart,
Let heav'n view me no more.
Her love though I obtaine,
No time, no toyle, no vow, no faith
Her wished grace can gaine.
Yet truth can tell my heart is hers,
And her will I adore:
And from that love when I depart,
Let heav'n view me no more.
Her roses with my prayer shall spring;
And when trees I praise,
Their boughs shall blossome, mellow fruit
Shall straw her pleasant wayes.
The words of harty zeale have powre
High wonders to effect;
O why should then her Princely eare
My words, or zeale neglect?
And when trees I praise,
Their boughs shall blossome, mellow fruit
Shall straw her pleasant wayes.
The words of harty zeale have powre
High wonders to effect;
O why should then her Princely eare
My words, or zeale neglect?
If shee my faith misdeemes, or worth,
Woe-worth my haplesse fate:
For, though time can my truth reveale,
That time will come too late.
And who can glory in the worth
That cannot yeeld him grace?
Content in ev'ry thing is not,
Nor joy in ev'ry place.
Woe-worth my haplesse fate:
For, though time can my truth reveale,
That time will come too late.
And who can glory in the worth
That cannot yeeld him grace?
Content in ev'ry thing is not,
Nor joy in ev'ry place.
91
But, from her bowre of Joy since I
Must now excluded be,
And shee will not relieve my cares,
Which none can helpe but shee:
My comfort in her love shall dwell,
Her love lodge in my brest;
And though not in her bowre, yet I
Shall in her temple rest.
Must now excluded be,
And shee will not relieve my cares,
Which none can helpe but shee:
My comfort in her love shall dwell,
Her love lodge in my brest;
And though not in her bowre, yet I
Shall in her temple rest.
92
VI.
[Faine would I my love disclose]
Faine would I my love disclose,
Aske what honour might denye;
But both love and her I lose,
From my motion if shee flye.
Worse then paine is feare to mee:
Then hold in fancy, though it burne;
If not happy, safe Ile be,
And to my clostred cares returne.
Aske what honour might denye;
But both love and her I lose,
From my motion if shee flye.
Worse then paine is feare to mee:
Then hold in fancy, though it burne;
If not happy, safe Ile be,
And to my clostred cares returne.
Yet, o yet, in vaine I strive
To represse my school'd desire;
More and more the flames revive,
I consume in mine owne fire.
She would pitty, might shee know
The harmes that I for her endure:
Speake then, and get comfort so:
A wound long hid growes past recure.
To represse my school'd desire;
More and more the flames revive,
I consume in mine owne fire.
She would pitty, might shee know
The harmes that I for her endure:
Speake then, and get comfort so:
A wound long hid growes past recure.
Wise shee is, and needs must know
All th'attempts that beauty moves:
Fayre she is, and honour'd so
That she, sure, hath tryed some loves.
If with love I tempt her then,
'Tis but her due to be desir'd:
What would women thinke of men,
If their deserts were not admir'd?
All th'attempts that beauty moves:
Fayre she is, and honour'd so
That she, sure, hath tryed some loves.
If with love I tempt her then,
'Tis but her due to be desir'd:
What would women thinke of men,
If their deserts were not admir'd?
Women, courted, have the hand
To discard what they distaste:
But those Dames whom none demand
Want oft what their wils imbrac't.
Could their firmnesse iron excell,
As they are faire, they should be sought:
When true theeves use falsehood well,
As they are wise, they will be caught.
To discard what they distaste:
But those Dames whom none demand
Want oft what their wils imbrac't.
Could their firmnesse iron excell,
As they are faire, they should be sought:
When true theeves use falsehood well,
As they are wise, they will be caught.
93
VII.
[Give beauty all her right]
Give beauty all her right,
Shee's not to one forme tyed;
Each shape yeelds faire delight,
Where her perfections bide.
Hellen, I grant, might pleasing be;
And Ros'mond was as sweet as shee.
Shee's not to one forme tyed;
Each shape yeelds faire delight,
Where her perfections bide.
Hellen, I grant, might pleasing be;
And Ros'mond was as sweet as shee.
Some the quicke eye commends,
Some smelling lips and red;
Pale lookes have many friends,
Through sacred sweetnesse bred.
Medowes have flowres that pleasure move,
Though Roses are the flowres of love.
Some smelling lips and red;
Pale lookes have many friends,
Through sacred sweetnesse bred.
Medowes have flowres that pleasure move,
Though Roses are the flowres of love.
Free beauty is not bound
To one unmoved clime:
She visits ev'ry ground,
And favours ev'ry time.
Let the old loves with mine compare,
My sov'raigne is as sweet, and fayre.
To one unmoved clime:
She visits ev'ry ground,
And favours ev'ry time.
Let the old loves with mine compare,
My sov'raigne is as sweet, and fayre.
94
VIII.
[O deare, that I with thee might live]
O deare, that I with thee might live,
From humane trace removed:
Where jealous care might neither grieve,
Yet each dote on their loved.
While fond feare may colour finde, Love's seldome pleased;
But much like a sicke mans rest, it's soone diseased.
From humane trace removed:
Where jealous care might neither grieve,
Yet each dote on their loved.
While fond feare may colour finde, Love's seldome pleased;
But much like a sicke mans rest, it's soone diseased.
Why should our mindes not mingle so,
When love and faith is plighted,
That eyther might the others know,
Alike in all delighted?
Why should frailtie breed suspect, when hearts are fixed?
Must all humane joyes of force with griefe be mixed?
When love and faith is plighted,
That eyther might the others know,
Alike in all delighted?
Why should frailtie breed suspect, when hearts are fixed?
Must all humane joyes of force with griefe be mixed?
How oft have wee ev'n smilde in teares,
Our fond mistrust repenting?
As snow when heav'nly fire appeares,
So melts loves hate relenting.
Vexed kindnesse soone fals off, and soone returneth:
Such a flame the more you quench, the more it burneth.
Our fond mistrust repenting?
As snow when heav'nly fire appeares,
So melts loves hate relenting.
Vexed kindnesse soone fals off, and soone returneth:
Such a flame the more you quench, the more it burneth.
95
IX.
[Good men, shew, if you can tell]
Good men, shew, if you can tell,
Where doth humane pittie dwell?
Farre and neere her would I seeke,
So vext with sorrow is my brest.
She (they say) to all is meeke,
And onely makes th'unhappie blest.
Where doth humane pittie dwell?
Farre and neere her would I seeke,
So vext with sorrow is my brest.
She (they say) to all is meeke,
And onely makes th'unhappie blest.
Oh! if such a Saint there be,
Some hope yet remaines for me:
Prayer or sacrifice may gaine
From her implored grace reliefe,
To release mee of my paine,
Or at the least to ease my griefe.
Some hope yet remaines for me:
Prayer or sacrifice may gaine
From her implored grace reliefe,
To release mee of my paine,
Or at the least to ease my griefe.
Young am I, and farre from guile;
The more is my woe the while:
Falshood with a smooth disguise
My simple meaning hath abus'd,
Casting mists before mine eyes,
By which my senses are confus'd.
The more is my woe the while:
Falshood with a smooth disguise
My simple meaning hath abus'd,
Casting mists before mine eyes,
By which my senses are confus'd.
Faire he is, who vow'd to me
That he onely mine would be:
But, alas, his minde is caught
With ev'ry gaudie bait he sees.
And too late my flame is taught
That too much kindnesse makes men freese.
That he onely mine would be:
But, alas, his minde is caught
With ev'ry gaudie bait he sees.
And too late my flame is taught
That too much kindnesse makes men freese.
From me all my friends are gone,
While I pine for him alone;
And not one will rue my case,
But rather my distresse deride:
That I thinke there is no place
Where pittie ever yet did bide.
While I pine for him alone;
And not one will rue my case,
But rather my distresse deride:
That I thinke there is no place
Where pittie ever yet did bide.
96
X.
[What harvest halfe so sweet is]
What harvest halfe so sweet is,
As still to reape the kisses
Growne ripe in sowing?
And straight to be receiver
Of that which thou art giver,
Rich in bestowing?
Kisse then, my harvest Queene,
Full garners heaping;
Kisses, ripest when th'are greene,
Want onely reaping.
As still to reape the kisses
Growne ripe in sowing?
And straight to be receiver
Of that which thou art giver,
Rich in bestowing?
Kisse then, my harvest Queene,
Full garners heaping;
Kisses, ripest when th'are greene,
Want onely reaping.
The Dove alone expresses
Her fervencie in kisses,
Of all most loving:
A creature as offencelesse
As those things that are sencelesse
And void of moving.
Let us so love and kisse,
Though all envie us:
That which kinde, and harmelesse is,
None can denie us.
Her fervencie in kisses,
Of all most loving:
A creature as offencelesse
As those things that are sencelesse
And void of moving.
Let us so love and kisse,
Though all envie us:
That which kinde, and harmelesse is,
None can denie us.
99
XI.
[Sweet, exclude mee not, nor be divided]
Sweet, exclude mee not, nor be divided
From him that ere long must bed thee:
All thy maiden doubts Law hath decided;
Sure wee are, and I must wed thee.
Presume then yet a little more:
Here's the way, barre not the dore.
From him that ere long must bed thee:
All thy maiden doubts Law hath decided;
Sure wee are, and I must wed thee.
Presume then yet a little more:
Here's the way, barre not the dore.
Tenants, to fulfill their Land-lords pleasure,
Pay their rent before the quarter:
'Tis my case, if you it rightly measure;
Put mee not then off with laughter.
Consider then a little more:
Here's the way to all my store.
Pay their rent before the quarter:
'Tis my case, if you it rightly measure;
Put mee not then off with laughter.
Consider then a little more:
Here's the way to all my store.
Why were dores in loves despight devised?
Are not Lawes enough restrayning?
Women are most apt to be surprised
Sleeping, or sleepe wisely fayning.
Then grace me yet a little more:
Here's the way, barre not the dore.
Are not Lawes enough restrayning?
Women are most apt to be surprised
Sleeping, or sleepe wisely fayning.
Then grace me yet a little more:
Here's the way, barre not the dore.
100
XII.
[The peacefull westerne winde]
The peacefull westerne winde
The winter stormes hath tam'd,
And nature in each kinde
The kinde heat hath inflam'd.
The forward buds so sweetly breathe
Out of their earthy bowers,
That heav'n, which viewes their pompe beneath,
Would faine be deckt with flowers.
The winter stormes hath tam'd,
And nature in each kinde
The kinde heat hath inflam'd.
The forward buds so sweetly breathe
Out of their earthy bowers,
That heav'n, which viewes their pompe beneath,
Would faine be deckt with flowers.
See how the morning smiles
On her bright easterne hill,
And with soft steps beguiles
Them that lie slumbring still.
The musicke-loving birds are come
From cliffes and rockes unknowne,
To see the trees and briers blome
That late were over-flowne.
On her bright easterne hill,
And with soft steps beguiles
Them that lie slumbring still.
The musicke-loving birds are come
From cliffes and rockes unknowne,
To see the trees and briers blome
That late were over-flowne.
What Saturne did destroy,
Loves Queene revives againe;
And now her naked boy
Doth in the fields remaine:
Where he such pleasing change doth view
In ev'ry living thing,
As if the world were borne anew
To gratifie the Spring.
Loves Queene revives againe;
And now her naked boy
Doth in the fields remaine:
Where he such pleasing change doth view
In ev'ry living thing,
As if the world were borne anew
To gratifie the Spring.
If all things life present,
Why die my comforts then?
Why suffers my content?
Am I the worst of men?
O beautie, be not thou accus'd
Too justly in this case:
Unkindly if true love be us'd,
'Twill yeeld thee little grace.
Why die my comforts then?
Why suffers my content?
Am I the worst of men?
O beautie, be not thou accus'd
Too justly in this case:
Unkindly if true love be us'd,
'Twill yeeld thee little grace.
102
XIII.
[There is none, O none but you]
There is none, O none but you,
That from mee estrange your sight,
Whom mine eyes affect to view
Or chained eares heare with delight.
That from mee estrange your sight,
Whom mine eyes affect to view
Or chained eares heare with delight.
Other beauties others move,
In you I all graces finde:
Such is the effect of love,
To make them happy that are kinde.
In you I all graces finde:
Such is the effect of love,
To make them happy that are kinde.
Women in fraile beauty trust,
Onely seeme you faire to mee;
Yet prove truely kinde and just,
For that may not dissembled be.
Onely seeme you faire to mee;
Yet prove truely kinde and just,
For that may not dissembled be.
Sweet, afford mee then your sight,
That, survaying all your lookes,
Endlesse volumes I may write,
And fill the world with envyed bookes:
That, survaying all your lookes,
Endlesse volumes I may write,
And fill the world with envyed bookes:
Which when after ages view,
All shall wonder, and despaire,
Woman to finde man so true,
Or man a woman halfe so faire.
All shall wonder, and despaire,
Woman to finde man so true,
Or man a woman halfe so faire.
103
XIV.
[Pin'd I am, and like to die]
Pin'd I am, and like to die,
And all for lacke of that which I
Doe ev'ry day refuse.
If I musing sit, or stand,
Some puts it daily in my hand,
To interrupt my muse.
The same thing I seeke, and flie,
And want that which none would denie.
And all for lacke of that which I
Doe ev'ry day refuse.
If I musing sit, or stand,
Some puts it daily in my hand,
To interrupt my muse.
The same thing I seeke, and flie,
And want that which none would denie.
In my bed, when I should rest,
It breeds such trouble in my brest
That scarce mine eyes will close:
If I sleepe, it seemes to be
Oft playing in the bed with me,
But, wak't, away it goes.
Tis some spirit, sure, I weene,
And yet it may be felt, and seene.
It breeds such trouble in my brest
That scarce mine eyes will close:
If I sleepe, it seemes to be
Oft playing in the bed with me,
But, wak't, away it goes.
Tis some spirit, sure, I weene,
And yet it may be felt, and seene.
Would I had the heart and wit
To make it stand, and conjure it,
That haunts me thus with feare.
Doubtlesse tis some harmlesse spright,
For it by day, as well as night,
Is ready to appeare.
Be it friend, or be it foe,
Ere long Ile trie what it will doe.
To make it stand, and conjure it,
That haunts me thus with feare.
Doubtlesse tis some harmlesse spright,
For it by day, as well as night,
Is ready to appeare.
Be it friend, or be it foe,
Ere long Ile trie what it will doe.
105
XV.
[So many loves have I neglected]
So many loves have I neglected
Whose good parts might move mee,
That now I live of all rejected,
There is none will love me.
Why is mayden heate so coy?
It freezeth when it burneth,
Looseth what it might injoy,
And, having lost it, mourneth.
Whose good parts might move mee,
That now I live of all rejected,
There is none will love me.
Why is mayden heate so coy?
It freezeth when it burneth,
Looseth what it might injoy,
And, having lost it, mourneth.
Should I then wooe, that have been wooed,
Seeking them that flye mee?
When I my faith with teares have vowed,
And when all denye mee,
Who will pitty my disgrace,
Which love might have prevented?
There is no submission base
Where error is repented.
Seeking them that flye mee?
When I my faith with teares have vowed,
And when all denye mee,
Who will pitty my disgrace,
Which love might have prevented?
There is no submission base
Where error is repented.
O happy men, whose hopes are licenc'd
To discourse their passion,
While women are confin'd to silence,
Loosing wisht occasion.
Yet our tongues then theirs, men say,
Are apter to be moving:
Women are more dumbe then they,
But in their thoughts more roving.
To discourse their passion,
While women are confin'd to silence,
Loosing wisht occasion.
Yet our tongues then theirs, men say,
Are apter to be moving:
Women are more dumbe then they,
But in their thoughts more roving.
When I compare my former strangenesse
With my present doting,
I pitty men that speake in plainenesse,
Their true hearts devoting;
While wee with repentance jest
At their submissive passion:
Maydes, I see, are never blest
That strange be but for fashion.
With my present doting,
I pitty men that speake in plainenesse,
Their true hearts devoting;
While wee with repentance jest
At their submissive passion:
Maydes, I see, are never blest
That strange be but for fashion.
106
XVI.
[Though your strangenesse frets my hart]
Though your strangenesse frets my hart,
Yet may not I complaine:
You perswade me, 'tis but Art,
That secret love must faine.
If another you affect,
'Tis but a shew t'avoid suspect.
Is this faire excusing? O no, all is abusing.
Yet may not I complaine:
You perswade me, 'tis but Art,
That secret love must faine.
If another you affect,
'Tis but a shew t'avoid suspect.
Is this faire excusing? O no, all is abusing.
Your wisht sight if I desire,
Suspitions you pretend;
Causelesse you your selfe retire,
While I in vaine attend.
This a Lover whets, you say,
Still made more eager by delay.
Is this faire excusing? O no, all is abusing.
Suspitions you pretend;
Causelesse you your selfe retire,
While I in vaine attend.
This a Lover whets, you say,
Still made more eager by delay.
Is this faire excusing? O no, all is abusing.
When another holds your hand,
You sweare I hold your hart:
When my Rivals close doe stand
And I sit farre apart,
I am neerer yet then they,
Hid in your bosome, as you say.
Is this faire excusing? O no, all is abusing.
You sweare I hold your hart:
When my Rivals close doe stand
And I sit farre apart,
I am neerer yet then they,
Hid in your bosome, as you say.
Is this faire excusing? O no, all is abusing.
Would my Rival then I were,
Some els your secret friend:
So much lesser should I feare,
And not so much attend.
They enjoy you, ev'ry one,
Yet I must seeme your friend alone.
Is this faire excusing? O no, all is abusing.
Some els your secret friend:
So much lesser should I feare,
And not so much attend.
They enjoy you, ev'ry one,
Yet I must seeme your friend alone.
Is this faire excusing? O no, all is abusing.
108
XVII.
[Come away, arm'd with loves delights]
Come away, arm'd with loves delights,
Thy sprightfull graces bring with thee:
When loves longing fights,
They must the sticklers be.
Come quickly, come, the promis'd houre is wel-nye spent,
And pleasure, being too much deferr'd, looseth her best content.
Thy sprightfull graces bring with thee:
When loves longing fights,
They must the sticklers be.
Come quickly, come, the promis'd houre is wel-nye spent,
And pleasure, being too much deferr'd, looseth her best content.
Is shee come? O, how neare is shee?
How farre yet from this friendly place?
How many steps from me?
When shall I her imbrace?
These armes Ile spred, which onely at her sight shall close,
Attending as the starry flowre that the Suns noone-tide knowes.
How farre yet from this friendly place?
How many steps from me?
When shall I her imbrace?
These armes Ile spred, which onely at her sight shall close,
Attending as the starry flowre that the Suns noone-tide knowes.
109
XVIII.
[Come, you pretty false-ey'd wanton]
Come, you pretty false-ey'd wanton,
Leave your crafty smiling:
Thinke you to escape me now
With slipp'ry words beguiling?
No; you mock't me th'other day,
When you got loose, you fled away;
But, since I have caught you now,
Ile clip your wings for flying:
Smothring kisses fast Ile heape,
And keepe you so from crying.
Leave your crafty smiling:
Thinke you to escape me now
With slipp'ry words beguiling?
No; you mock't me th'other day,
When you got loose, you fled away;
But, since I have caught you now,
Ile clip your wings for flying:
Smothring kisses fast Ile heape,
And keepe you so from crying.
Sooner may you count the starres,
And number hayle downe pouring,
Tell the Osiers of the Temmes,
Or Goodwins Sands devouring,
Then the thicke-showr'd kisses here
Which now thy tyred lips must beare.
Such a harvest never was,
So rich and full of pleasure,
But 'tis spent as soone as reapt,
So trustlesse is loves treasure.
And number hayle downe pouring,
Tell the Osiers of the Temmes,
Or Goodwins Sands devouring,
Then the thicke-showr'd kisses here
Which now thy tyred lips must beare.
Such a harvest never was,
So rich and full of pleasure,
But 'tis spent as soone as reapt,
So trustlesse is loves treasure.
Would it were dumb midnight now,
When all the world lyes sleeping:
Would this place some Desert were,
Which no man hath in keeping.
My desires should then be safe,
And when you cry'd then would I laugh;
But if ought might breed offence,
Love onely should be blamed:
I would live your servant still,
And you my Saint unnamed.
When all the world lyes sleeping:
Would this place some Desert were,
Which no man hath in keeping.
110
And when you cry'd then would I laugh;
But if ought might breed offence,
Love onely should be blamed:
I would live your servant still,
And you my Saint unnamed.
111
XIX.
[A secret love or two, I must confesse]
A secret love or two, I must confesse,
I kindly welcome for change in close playing:
Yet my deare husband I love ne'erthelesse,
His desires, whole or halfe, quickly allaying,
At all times ready to offer redresse.
His owne he never wants, but hath it duely,
Yet twits me, I keepe not touch with him truly.
I kindly welcome for change in close playing:
Yet my deare husband I love ne'erthelesse,
His desires, whole or halfe, quickly allaying,
At all times ready to offer redresse.
His owne he never wants, but hath it duely,
Yet twits me, I keepe not touch with him truly.
The more a spring is drawne, the more it flowes;
No Lampe lesse light retaines by lighting others:
Is hee a looser his losse that ne're knowes?
Or is he wealthy that wast treasure smothers?
My churle vowes no man shall sent his sweet Rose:
His owne enough and more I give him duely,
Yet still he twits mee, I keepe not touch truly.
No Lampe lesse light retaines by lighting others:
Is hee a looser his losse that ne're knowes?
Or is he wealthy that wast treasure smothers?
My churle vowes no man shall sent his sweet Rose:
His owne enough and more I give him duely,
Yet still he twits mee, I keepe not touch truly.
Wise Archers beare more then one shaft to field,
The Venturer loads not with one ware his shipping:
Should Warriers learne but one weapon to weilde?
Or thrive faire plants ere the worse for the slipping?
One dish cloyes, many fresh appetite yeeld:
Mine owne Ile use, and his he shall have duely,
Judge then what debter can keepe touch more truly.
The Venturer loads not with one ware his shipping:
Should Warriers learne but one weapon to weilde?
Or thrive faire plants ere the worse for the slipping?
One dish cloyes, many fresh appetite yeeld:
Mine owne Ile use, and his he shall have duely,
Judge then what debter can keepe touch more truly.
112
XX.
[Her rosie cheekes, her ever smiling eyes]
Her rosie cheekes, her ever smiling eyes,
Are Spheares and beds where Love in triumph lies:
Her rubine lips, when they their pearle unlocke,
Make them seeme as they did rise
All out of one smooth Currall Rocke.
Oh, that of other Creatures store I knew
More worthy, and more rare:
For these are old, and shee so new,
That her to them none should compare.
Are Spheares and beds where Love in triumph lies:
Her rubine lips, when they their pearle unlocke,
Make them seeme as they did rise
All out of one smooth Currall Rocke.
Oh, that of other Creatures store I knew
More worthy, and more rare:
For these are old, and shee so new,
That her to them none should compare.
Oh, could she love, would shee but heare a friend,
Or that shee onely knew what sighs pretend.
Her lookes inflame, yet cold as Ice is shee.
Doe or speake, all's to one end,
For what shee is, that will shee be.
Yet will I never cease her prayse to sing,
Though she gives no regard:
For they that grace a worthlesse thing
Are onely greedy of reward.
Or that shee onely knew what sighs pretend.
Her lookes inflame, yet cold as Ice is shee.
Doe or speake, all's to one end,
For what shee is, that will shee be.
Yet will I never cease her prayse to sing,
Though she gives no regard:
For they that grace a worthlesse thing
Are onely greedy of reward.
[Songs of 2. Parts.]
XXI.
[Where shall I refuge seeke, if you refuse mee?]
Where shall I refuge seeke, if you refuse mee?
In you my hope, in you my fortune lyes;
In you my life, though you unjust accuse me,
My service scorne, and merit underprise.
Oh bitter griefe, that exile is become
Reward for faith, and pittie deafe and dumbe.
In you my hope, in you my fortune lyes;
In you my life, though you unjust accuse me,
My service scorne, and merit underprise.
Oh bitter griefe, that exile is become
Reward for faith, and pittie deafe and dumbe.
Why should my firmnesse finde a seate so wav'ring?
My simple vowes, my love you entertain'd,
Without desert the same againe disfav'ring;
Yet I my word and passion hold unstain'd.
Oh wretched me, that my chiefe joy should breede
My onely griefe, and kindnesse pitty neede.
My simple vowes, my love you entertain'd,
Without desert the same againe disfav'ring;
Yet I my word and passion hold unstain'd.
Oh wretched me, that my chiefe joy should breede
My onely griefe, and kindnesse pitty neede.
FINIS.
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