Where shall a sorrow great enough be sought
For this sad ruin which the Fates have wrought,
Unless the Fates themselves should weep and wish
Their curbless power had been controlled in this?
For thy loss, worthiest Lord, no mourning eye
Has flood enough; no muse nor elegy
Enough expression to thy worth can lend;
No, though thy Sidney had survived his friend.
Dead, noble Brooke shall be to us a name
Of grief and honour still, whose deathless fame
Such Virtue purchased as makes us to be
Unjust to Nature in lamenting thee;
Wailing an old man's fate as if in pride
And heat of Youth he had untimely died.
From CAMPION and ROSSETER's _Book of Airs_, 1601.
{skene pas ho bios, kai paignion.}
PALLAD.
Whether men do laugh or weep,
Whether they do wake or sleep,
Whether they die young or old,
Whether they feel heat or cold;
There is underneath the sun
Nothing in true earnest done.
All our pride is but a jest,
None are worst and none are best;
Grief and joy and hope and fear
Play their pageants everywhere:
Vain Opinion all doth sway,
And the world is but a play.
Powers above in clouds do sit,
Mocking our poor apish wit,
That so lamely with such state
Their high glory imitate.
No ill can be felt but pain,
And that happy men disdain.
From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589.
While that the sun with his beams hot
Scorched the fruits in vale and mountain,
Philon, the shepherd, late forgot
Sitting beside a chrystal fountain
In shadow of a green oak-tree,
Upon his pipe this song play'd he:
Adieu, Love! adieu, Love! untrue Love!
Untrue Love, untrue Love! adieu, Love!
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
So long as I was in your sight,
I was your heart, your soul, your treasure;
And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd,
Burning in flames beyond all measure.
Three days endured your love for me,
And it was lost in other three.
Adieu, Love! adieu, Love! untrue Love!
Untrue Love, untrue Love! adieu, Love!
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
Another shepherd you did see,
To whom your heart was soon enchained;
Full soon your love was leapt from me,
Full soon my place he had obtained:
Soon came a third your love to win;
And we were out, and he was in.
Adieu, Love! adieu, Love! untrue Love!
Untrue Love, untrue Love! adieu, Love!
Your mind is light, soon lost for new Love.
Sure, you have made me passing glad
That you your mind so soon removed,
Before that I the leisure had
To choose you for my best beloved:
For all my love was past and done
Two days, before it was begun.
Adieu, Love! adieu, Love! untrue Love!
Untrue Love, untrue Love! adieu, Love!
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals_, 1598.
Whilst youthful sports are lasting,
To feasting turn our fasting.
Fa la la!
With revels and with wassails
Make grief and care our vassals.
Fa la la!
For youth it well beseemeth
That pleasure he esteemeth.
Fa la la!
And sullen age is hated
That mirth would have abated.
Fa la la!
From JOHN DOWLAND's _Second Book of Songs or Airs_, 1600.
White as lilies was her face:
When she smiled
She beguiled,
Quitting faith with foul disgrace.
Virtue's service thus neglected.
Heart with sorrows hath infected.
When I swore my heart her own,
She disdained;
I complained,
Yet she left me overthrown:
Careless of my bitter grieving,
Ruthless, bent to no relieving.
Vows and oaths and faith assured,
Constant ever,
Changing never,--
Yet she could not be procured
To believe my pains exceeding
From her scant respect proceeding.
O that love should have the art,
By surmises,
And disguises,
To destroy a faithful heart;
Or that wanton-looking women
Should reward their friends as foemen.
All in vain is ladies' love--
Quickly choosed.
Shortly loosed;
For their pride is to remove.
Out, alas! their looks first won us,
And their pride hath straight undone us.
To thyself, the sweetest Fair!
Thou hast wounded,
And confounded
Changeless faith with foul despair;
And my service hast envied
And my succours hast denied.
By thine error thou hast lost
Heart unfeigned,
Truth unstained.
And the swain that loved most,
More assured in love than many,
Move despised in love than any.
For my heart, though set at nought,
Since you will it,
Spoil and kill it!
I will never change my thought:
But grieve that beauty e'er was born
Thus to answer love with scorn.
From FRANCIS PILKINGTON's _First Book of Songs or Airs_, 1605.
Whither so fast? see how the kindly flowers
Perfume the air, and all to make thee stay:
The climbing wood-bine, clipping all these bowers,
Clips thee likewise for fear thou pass away;
Fortune our friend, our foe will not gainsay.
Stay but awhile, Ph[oe]be no tell-tale is;
She her Endymion, I'll my Ph[oe]be kiss.
Fear not, the ground seeks but to kiss thy feet;
Hark, hark, how Philomela sweetly sings!
Whilst water-wanton fishes as they meet
Strike crotchet time amidst these crystal springs,
And Zephyrus amongst the leaves sweet murmur rings.
Stay but awhile, Ph[oe]be no tell-tale is;
She her Endymion, I'll my Ph[oe]be kiss.
See how the helitrope, herb of the sun,
Though he himself long since be gone to bed,
Is not of force thine eye's bright beams to shun,
But with their warmth his goldy leaves unspread,
And on my knee invites thee rest thy head.
Stay but awhile, Ph[oe]be no tell-tale is;
She her Endymion, I'll my Ph[oe]be kiss.
From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs_, 1588.
Who likes to love, let him take heed!
And wot you why?
Among the gods it is decreed
That Love shall die;
And every wight that takes his part
Shall forfeit each a mourning heart.
The cause is this, as I have heard:
A sort of dames,
Whose beauty he did not regard
Nor secret flames,
Complained before the gods above
That gold corrupts the god of love.
The gods did storm to hear this news,
And there they swore,
That sith he did such dames abuse
He should no more
Be god of love, but that he should
Both die and forfeit all his gold.
His bow and shafts they took away
Before his eyes,
And gave these dames a longer day
For to devise
Who should them keep, and they be bound
That love for gold should not be found.
These ladies striving long, at last
They did agree
To give them to a maiden chaste,
Whom I did see,
Who with the same did pierce my breast:
Her beauty's rare, and so I rest.
From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589.
1. Who made thee, Hob, forsake the plough
And fall in love?
2. Sweet beauty, which hath power to bow
The gods above.
1. What dost thou serve? 2. A shepherdess;
One such as hath no peer, I guess.
1. What is her name who bears thy heart
Within her breast?
2. Silvana fair, of high desert,
Whom I love best.
1. O, Hob, I fear she looks too high.
2. Yet love I must, or else I die.
From THOMAS BATESON's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1604.
Who prostrate lies at women's feet.
And calls them darlings dear and sweet;
Protesting love, and craving grace,
And praising oft a foolish face;
Are oftentimes deceived at last,
Then catch at nought and hold it fast.
From JOHN FARMER's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1599.
Who would have thought that face of thine
Had been so full of doubleness,
Or that within those crystal eyn
Had been so much unstableness?
Thy face so fair, thy look so strange!
Who would have thought of such a change?
From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals of Five and Six Parts_, 1600.
Why are you Ladies staying,
And your Lords gone a-maying?
Run apace and meet them
And with your garlands greet them.
'Twere pity they should miss you,
For they will sweetly kiss you.
From JOHN DOWLAND's _First Book of Songs or Airs_, 1597.
Wilt thou, Unkind! thus 'reave me
Of my heart and so leave me?
Farewell!
But yet, or ere I part, O Cruel,
Kiss me, Sweet, my Jewel!
Farewell!
Hope by disdain grows cheerless,
Fear doth love, love doth fear;
Beauty peerless,
Farewell!
If no delays can move thee,
Life shall die, death shall live
Still to love thee.
Farewell!
Yet be thou mindful ever!
Heat from fire, fire from heat,
None can sever.
Farewell!
True love cannot be changed,
Though delight from desert
Be estranged.
Farewell!
From THOMAS CAMPION's _Two Books of Airs_ (circ. 1613).
Wise men patience never want,
Good men pity cannot hide;
Feeble spirits only vaunt
Of revenge, the poorest pride:
He alone forgive that can
Bears the true soul of a man.
Some there are debate that seek,
Making trouble their content;
Happy if they wrong the meek,
Vex them that to peace are bent:
Such undo the common tie
Of mankind, Society.
Kindness grown is lately cold,
Conscience hath forgot her part;
Blessed times were known of old
Long ere Law became an art:
Shame deterred, not statutes then;
Honest love was law to men.
Deeds from love, and words, that flow,
Foster like kind April showers;
In the warm sun all things grow,
Wholesome fruits and pleasant flowers:
All so thrives his gentle rays
Whereon human love displays.
From JOHN DOWLAND's _Second Book of Songs or Airs_, 1600.
Woeful Heart, with grief oppressed!
Since my fortunes most distressed
From my joys hath me removed,
Follow those sweet eyes adored!
Those sweet eyes wherein are stored
All my pleasures best beloved.
Fly my breast--leave me forsaken--
Wherein Grief his seat hath taken,
All his arrows through me darting!
Thou mayst live by her sunshining:
I shall suffer no more pining
By thy loss than by her parting.
From THOMAS GREAVES' _Songs of Sundry Kinds_, 1604.
Ye bubbling springs that gentle music makes
To lovers' plaints with heart-sore throbs immixed,
When as my dear this way her pleasure takes,
Tell her with tears how firm my love is fixed;
And, Philomel, report my timerous fears,
And, echo, sound my heigh-ho's in her ears:
But if she asks if I for love will die,
Tell her, Good faith, good faith, good faith,--not I.
From FARMER's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1599.
You blessed bowers whose green leaves now are spreading,
Shadow the sunshine from my mistress' face,
And you, sweet roses, only for her bedding
When weary she doth take her resting-place;
You fair white lilies and pretty flowers all,
Give your attendance at my mistress' call.
From THOMAS MORLEY's _First Book of Ballets_, 1595.
You that wont to my pipe's sound
Daintily to tread your ground,
Jolly shepherds and nymphs sweet,
(Lirum, lirum.)
Here met together
Under the weather,
Hand in hand uniting,
The lovely god come greet.
(Lirum, lirum)
Lo, triumphing, brave comes he,
All in pomp and majesty,
Monarch of the world and king.
(Lirum, lirum.)
Let whoso list him
Dare to resist him,
We our voices uniting,
Of his high acts will sing.
(Lirum, lirum.)
From THOMAS BATESON's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1604.
Your shining eyes and golden hair,
Your lily-rosed lips so fair;
Your various beauties which excel,
Men cannot choose but like them well:
Yet when for them they say they'll die,
Believe them not,--they do but lie.