University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The complete works of John Lyly

now for the first time collected and edited from the earliest quartos with life, bibliography, essays, notes and index by R. Warwick Bond

collapse sectionI. 
collapse section 
  
  
collapse section 
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
collapse section 
  
collapse sectionIII. 
  
collapse section 
  
 1. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
 11. 
 12. 
 13. 
 15. 
 16. 
 17. 
collapse section 
  
collapse section 
collapse sectionI. 
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
 7. 
 8. 
 9. 
 10. 
 11. 
 12. 
 13. 
 14. 
 15. 
collapse sectionII. 
 16. 
 17. 
 18. 
 19. 
 20. 
collapse sectionIII. 
 21. 
 22. 
 23. 
 24. 
collapse sectionIV. 
 25. 
 26. 
 27. 
 28. 
 29. 
 30. 
 31. 
 32. 
 33. 
 34. 
 35. 
 36. 
 37. 
 38. 
 39. 
 40. 
 41. 
 41. 
 42. 
 43. 
 44. 
 45. 
 46. 
 47. 
 48. 
 49. 
 50. 
 51. 
 52. 
 53. 
collapse sectionV. 
 54. 
 55. 
 56. 
 57. 
 58. 
 59. 
 60. 
 61. 
 62. 
 63. 
 64. 
 65. 
65.
 66. 
 67. 
collapse sectionVI. 
 70. 
 71. 
 72. 
 73. 

65.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Some mē will saye there is a kynde of muse]

Some mē will saye there is a kynde of muse
That healps the mynde of eache man to indyte
And some will saye (that oft these Muses vse)
There are but Nyne that euer vsed to wryte
Now of these nyne if I haue hytt on one
I muse what Muse 'tis I haue hytt vpon.

500

Some poetes wryte there is a heauenly hyll
Wher Pallas keeps: and it Pernassus hyghte
There Muses sit for-sothe, and cut the quyll
That beinge framde doth hidden fancyes wryte
But all these dames diuyne conceyts do synge
And all theyr penns be of a phœnix winge.
Beleeue me now I neuer sawe the place
Vnless in sleepe I drem'de of suche a thynge
I neauer vewed fayre Pallas in the face
Nor neauer yet could heare the Muses synge
Wherby to frame a fancye in her kynde
Oh no! my muse is of an other mynde.
From Hellicon? no no from Hell she came
To wryte of woes and myseryes[:] she hyghte
Not Pallas but Alass hir Ladyes name
Who neuer calles for dittyes of delyghte.
Her pen̄ is Payne; and all her matter moane
And pantynge harts she paynts her mynd vpon.
A harte not Harpe is all her instrumēt
Whose weakned strynges all out of tune she strayns
And than she strikes a dumpe of discontente
Tyll euery strynge be pluckt in two with paynes
Than in a rage she clapps it vpp in Case:
That you maye see her instruments disgrace.
Her musick is in sum̄ but sorrowes songe
Wher discorde yealds a sound of small delyghte
The dittye is: o lyfe that lastes so longe
To see desyre thus crossed wth despyte
No faythe on earth: alas I know no frende!
So with a syghe she makes a solem̄ ende.
Vnpleasant is the harmony godd knowes
When out of tune is allmost euery strynge
The sownde vnsweet, yt all of sorrow growes
And sadd the muse, that so is fourced to synge
Yet some do synge that else for woe would crye
So dothe mye Muse: and so, I sweare, do I.
Finis.