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THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM
WHEN my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe herthough I know she lies
That she might think me some untutor'd youth
Unskilful in the world's false forgeries.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young
Although I know my years be past the best
I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue
Outfacing faults in love with love's ill rest.
But wherefore says my love that she is young?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
Olove's best habit is a soothing tongue
And agein loveloves not to have years told.
Therefore I'll lie with loveand love with me
Since that our faults in love thus smother'd be.
Two loves I haveof comfort and despair
That like two spirits do suggest me still;
My better angel is a man right fair
My worser spirit a woman colour'd ill.
To win me soon to hellmy female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil
Wooing his purity with her fair pride.
And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend
Suspect I mayyet not directly tell:
For being both to meboth to each friend
I guess one angel in another's hell;
The truth I shall not knowbut live in doubt
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye
'Gainst whom the world could not hold argument
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove
Thou being a goddessI forswore not thee:
My vow was earthlythou a heavenly love;
Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me.
My vow was breathand breath a vapour is;
Thenthou fair sunthat on this earth doth shine
Exhale this vapour vow; in thee it is:
If brokenthen it is no fault of mine.
If by me brokewhat fool is not so wise
To break an oathto win a paradise?
Sweet Cythereasitting by a brook
With young Adonislovelyfreshand green
Did court the lad with many a lovely look
Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen.
She told him stories to delight his ear;
She showed him favors to allure his eye;
To win his heartshe touch'd him here and there-Touches
so soft still conquer chastity.
But whether unripe years did want conceit
Or he refused to take her figured proffer
The tender nibbler would not touch the bait
But smile and jest at every gentle offer:
Then fell she on her backfair queenand toward:
He rose and ran away; ahfool too froward!
If love make me forswornhow shall I swear to love?
O never faith could holdif not to beauty vow'd:
Though to myself forswornto thee I'll constant prove;
Those thoughtsto me like oaksto thee like osiers bow'd.
Study his bias leavesand makes his book thine eyes
Where all those pleasures live that art can comprehend.
If knowledge be the markto know thee shall suffice;
Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend;
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder;
Which is to me some praisethat I thy parts admire:
Thine eye Jove's lightning seemsthy voice his dreadful
Whichnot to anger bentis music and sweet fire.
Celestial as thou artO do not love that wrong
To sing heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue.
Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn
And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade
When Cythereaall in love forlorn
A longing tarriance for Adonis made
Under an osier growing by a brook
A brook where Adon used to cool his spleen:
Hot was the day; she hotter that did look
For his approachthat often there had been.
Anon he comesand throws his mantle by
And stood stark naked on the brook's green brim:
The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye
Yet not so wistly as this queen on him.
Hespying herbounced inwhereas he stood:
'O Jove' quoth she'why was not I a flood!'
Fair is my lovebut not so fair as fickle;
Mild as a dovebut neither true nor trusty;
Brighter than glassand yetas glass isbrittle;
Softer than waxand yetas ironrusty:
A lily palewith damask dye to grace her
None fairernor none falser to deface her.
Her lips to mine how often hath she joined
Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing!
How many tales to please me hath she coined
Dreading my lovethe loss thereof still fearing!
Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings
Her faithher oathsher tearsand all were jestings.
She burn'd with loveas straw with fire flameth;
She burn'd out loveas soon as straw outburneth;
She framed the loveand yet she foil'd the framing;
She bade love lastand yet she fell a-turning.
Was this a loveror a lecher whether?
Bad in the bestthough excellent in neither.
If music and sweet poetry agree
As they must needsthe sister and the brother
Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me
Because thou lovest the oneand I the other.
Dowland to thee is dearwhose heavenly touch
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense;
Spenser to mewhose deep conceit is such
Aspassing all conceitneeds no defence.
Thou lovest to hear the sweet melodious sound
That Phoebus' lutethe queen of musicmakes;
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd
When as himself to singing he betakes.
One god is god of bothas poets feign;
One knight loves bothand both in thee remain.
Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love
Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove
For Adon's sakea youngster proud and wild;
Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill:
Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds;
Shesilly queenwith more than love's good will
Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds:
'Once' quoth she'did I see a fair sweet youth
Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar
Deep in the thigha spectacle of ruth!
Seein my thigh' quoth she'here was the sore.'
She showed hers: he saw more wounds than one
And blushing fledand left her all alone.
Sweet rosefair floweruntimely pluck'dsoon vaded
Pluck'd in the budand vaded in the spring!
Bright orient pearlalacktoo timely shaded!
Fair creaturekill'd too soon by death's sharp sting!
Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree
And fallsthrough windbefore the fall should be.
I weep for theeand yet no cause I have;
For why thou left'st me nothing in thy will:
And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave;
For why I craved nothing of thee still:
O yesdear friendI pardon crave of thee
Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.
Venuswith young Adonis sitting by her
Under a myrtle shadebegan to woo him:
She told the youngling how god Mars did try her
And as he fell to herso fell she to him.
'Even thus' quoth she'the warlike god embraced me'
And then she clipp'd Adonis in her arms;
'Even thus' quoth she'the warlike god unlaced me'
As if the boy should use like loving charms;
'Even thus' quoth she'he seized on my lips'
And with her lips on his did act the seizure:
And as she fetched breathaway he skips
And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure.
Ahthat I had my lady at this bay
To kiss and clip me till I run away!
Crabbed age and youth cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasanceage is full of care;
Youth like summer mornage like winter weather;
Youth like summer braveage like winter bare.
Youth is full of sportage's breath is short;
Youth is nimbleage is lame;
Youth is hot and boldage is weak and cold;
Youth is wildand age is tame.
AgeI do abhor thee; youthI do adore thee;
Omy lovemy love is young!
AgeI do defy thee: Osweet shepherdhie thee
For methinks thou stay'st too long
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good;
A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly;
A flower that dies when first it gins to bud;
A brittle glass that's broken presently:
A doubtful gooda glossa glassa flower
Lostvadedbrokendead within an hour.
And as goods lost are seld or never found
As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh
As flowers dead lie wither'd on the ground
As broken glass no cement can redress
So beauty blemish'd once's for ever lost
In spite of physicpaintingpain and cost.
Good nightgood rest. Ahneither be my share:
She bade good night that kept my rest away;
And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care
To descant on the doubts of my decay.
'Farewell' quoth she'and come again tomorrow:'
Fare well I could notfor I supp'd with sorrow.
Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile
In scorn or friendshipnill I construe whether:
'T may beshe joy'd to jest at my exile
'T may beagain to make me wander thither:
'Wander' a word for shadows like myself
As take the painbut cannot pluck the pelf.
Lordhow mine eyes throw gazes to the east!
My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes
While Philomela sits and singsI sit and mark
And wish her lays were tuned like the lark;
For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty
And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night:
The night so pack'dI post unto my pretty;
Heart hath his hopeand eyes their wished sight;
Sorrow changed to solacesolace mix'd with sorrow;
For whyshe sigh'd and bade me come tomorrow.
Were I with herthe night would post too soon;
But now are minutes added to the hours;
To spite me noweach minute seems a moon;
Yet not for meshine sun to succor flowers!
Pack nightpeep day; good dayof night now borrow:
Shortnightto-nightand length thyself tomorrow.
SONNETS TO SUNDRY NOTES OF MUSIC
IT was a lording's daughterthe fairest one of three
That liked of her master as well as well might be
Till looking on an Englishmanthe fair'st that eye could see
Her fancy fell a-turning.
Long was the combat doubtful that love with love did fight
To leave the master lovelessor kill the gallant knight:
To put in practise eitheralasit was a spite
Unto the silly damsel!
But one must be refused; more mickle was the pain
That nothing could be used to turn them both to gain
For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with disdain:
Alasshe could not help it!
Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day
Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away:
Thenlullabythe learned man hath got the lady gay;
For now my song is ended.
On a dayalack the day!
Lovewhose month was ever May
Spied a blossom passing fair
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind
All unseengan passage find;
That the loversick to death
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath
'Air' quoth he'thy cheeks may blow;
Airwould I might triumph so!
Butalas! my hand hath sworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vowalack! for youth unmeet:
Youthso apt to pluck a sweet.
Thou for whom Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiope were;
And deny himself for Jove
Turning mortal for thy love.'
My flocks feed not
My ewes breed not
My rams speed not
All is amiss:
Causer of this.
All my merry jigs are quite forgot
All my lady's love is lostGod wot:
Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love
There a nay is placed without remove.
One silly cross
Wrought all my loss;
O frowning Fortunecursedfickle dame!
For now I see
More in women than in men remain.
In black mourn I
All fears scorn I
Love hath forlorn me
Living in thrall:
Heart is bleeding
All help needing
O cruel speeding
Fraughted with gall.
My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal;
My wether's bell rings doleful knell;
My curtail dogthat wont to have play'd
Plays not at allbut seems afraid;
My sighs so deep
Procure to weep
In howling wiseto see my doleful plight.
How sighs resound
Through heartless ground
Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody fight!
Clear wells spring not
Sweet birds sing not
Green plants bring not
Forth their dye;
Herds stand weeping
Flocks all sleeping
Nymphs back peeping
All our pleasure known to us poor swains
All our merry meetings on the plains
All our evening sport from us is fled
All our love is lostfor Love is dead
Thy like ne'er was
For a sweet contentthe cause of all my moan:
Must live alone;
Other help for him I see that there is none.
When as thine eye hath chose the dame
And stall'd the deer that thou shouldst strike
Let reason rule things worthy blame
As well as fancy partial might:
Take counsel of some wiser head
Neither too young nor yet unwed.
And when thou comest thy tale to tell
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk
Lest she some subtle practise smell-A
cripple soon can find a halt;-But
plainly say thou lovest her well
And set thy person forth to sell.
What though her frowning brows be bent
Her cloudy looks will calm ere night:
And then too late she will repent
That thus dissembled her delight;
And twice desireere it be day
That which with scorn she put away.
What though she strive to try her strength
And ban and brawland say thee nay
Her feeble force will yield at length
When craft hath taught her thus to say
'Had women been so strong as men
In faithyou had not had it then.'
And to her will frame all thy ways;
Spare not to spendand chiefly there
Where thy desert may merit praise
By ringing in thy lady's ear:
The strongest castletowerand town
The golden bullet beats it down.
Serve always with assured trust
And in thy suit be humble true;
Unless thy lady prove unjust
Press never thou to choose anew:
When time shall servebe thou not slack
To profferthough she put thee back.
The wiles and guiles that women work
Dissembled with an outward show
The tricks and toys that in them lurk
The cock that treads them shall not know.
Have you not heard it said full oft
A woman's nay doth stand for nought?
Think women still to strive with men
To sin and never for to saint:
There is no heavenby holy then
When time with age doth them attaint.
Were kisses all the joys in bed
One woman would another wed.
Butsoft! enoughtoo muchI fear
Lest that my mistress hear my song
She will not stick to round me i' the ear
To teach my tongue to be so long:
Yet will she blushhere be it said
To hear her secrets so bewray'd.
Live with meand be my love
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleysdales and fields
And all the craggy mountains yields.
There will we sit upon the rocks
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow riversby whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
There will I make thee a bed of roses
With a thousand fragrant posies
A cap of flowersand a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.
A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move
Then live with me and be my love.
If that the world and love were young
And truth in every shepherd's tongue
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love.
As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made
Beasts did leapand birds did sing
Trees did growand plants did spring;
Every thing did banish moan
Save the nightingale alone:
Shepoor birdas all forlorn
Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn
And there sung the dolefull'st ditty
That to hear it was great pity:
'Fiefiefie' now would she cry;
'Tereutereu!' by and by;
That to hear her so complain
Scarce I could from tears refrain;
For her griefsso lively shown
Made me think upon mine own.
Ahthought Ithou mourn'st in vain!
None takes pity on thy pain:
Senseless trees they cannot hear thee;
Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee:
King Pandion he is dead;
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead;
All thy fellow birds do sing
Careless of thy sorrowing.
Even sopoor birdlike thee
None alive will pity me.
Whilst as fickle Fortune smiled
Thou and I were both beguiled.
Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in misery.
Words are easylike the wind;
Faithful friends are hard to find:
Every man will be thy friend
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend;
But if store of crowns be scant
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigal
Bountiful they will him call
And with such-like flattering
'Pity but he were a king;'
If he be addict to vice
Quickly him they will entice;
If to women he be bent
They have at commandement:
But if Fortune once do frown
Then farewell his great renown
They that fawn'd on him before
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed
He will help thee in thy need:
If thou sorrowhe will weep;
If thou wakehe cannot sleep;
Thus of every grief in heart
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.