Fragments.
From Two other very commendable Letters, 1580.
Iambicum Trimetrum
Vnhappie Verse, the witnesse of my vnhappie state,
Make thy selfe fluttring wings of thy fast flying thought,
And fly forth vnto my Loue, whersoeuer she be:
Whether lying reastlesse in heauy bedde, or else
Sitting so cheerelesse at the cheerfull boorde, or else
Playing alone carelesse on hir heauenlie Virginals.
If in Bed, tell hir, that my eyes can take no reste:
If at Boorde, tell hir, that my mouth can eate no meate:
If at hir Virginals, tel hir, I can heare no mirth.
Asked why? say: Waking Loue suffereth no sleepe:
Say, that raging Loue dothe appall the weake stomacke:
Say, that lamenting Loue marreth the Musicall.
Tell hir, that hir pleasures were wonte to lull me asleepe:
Tell hir, that hir beautie was wonte to feede mine eyes:
Tell hir, that hir sweete Tongue was wonte to make me mirth.
Nowe doe I nightly waste, wanting my kindely reste:
Nowe doe I dayly starue, wanting my liuely foode:
Nowe doe I alwayes dye, wanting thy timely mirth.
And if I waste, who will bewaile my heauy chaunce?
And if I starue, who will record my cursed end?
And if I dye, who will saye: this was, Immerito?
From Three proper and wittie, familiar Letters, 1580.
[See yee the blindefoulded pretie God, that feathered Archer]
See yee the blindefoulded pretie God, that feathered Archer,
Of Louers Miseries which maketh his bloodie Game?
Wote ye why, his Moother with a Veale hath coouered his Face?
Trust me, least he my Looue happely chaunce to beholde.
That which I eate did I ioy, and that which I greedily gorged,
As for those many goodly matters leaft I for others.
From E. K.'s note on S. C. June 25, Minor Poems 1. 64.
[An hundred Graces on her eyeledde satte.]
An hundred Graces on her eyeledde satte.
From E. K.'s note on S. C. Oct. 90, Minor Poems 1. 102.
[The siluer swanne doth sing before her dying day]
The siluer swanne doth sing before her dying day
As shee that feeles the deepe delight that is in death.
From Sir James Ware's The Historie of Ireland, 1633.
Certaine verses of Mr Edm. Spenser's.
A translation made ex tempore by Mr Edm.
Spenser upon this distich, written on a Booke belonging to the right honorable
Richard Earle of Corke, &c.
Let no day passe, passe no part of the day,
Lest thou doe passe, as dayes doe passe away.
Verses upon the said Earles Lute.
Whilst vitall sapp did make me spring,
And leafe and bough did flourish brave,
I then was dumbe and could not sing,
Ne had the voice which now I have:
But when the axe my life did end,
The Muses nine this voice did send.
E. S.
