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At length men used charms,
To which what maids gave ear,
Embracing gladly endless harms,
Anon enthralled were.

Thus women welcom'd woe,
Disguis'd in name of love;
A jealous hell, a painted show,
So shall they find that prove.

Hey down a down, did Dian sing,
Amongst her virgins sitting,

Than love there is no vainer thing,
For maidens most unfitting.

A VISION UPON THE FAIRY QUEEN.

METHOUGHT I Saw the grave where Laura lay,
Within that temple where the vestal flame
Was wont to burn: and passing by that way
To see that buried dust of living fame,
Whose tomb fair Love and fairer Virtue kept,
All suddenly I saw the Fairy Queen,

At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept;
And from thenceforth those Graces were not seen,
For they this Queen attended; in whose stead
Oblivion laid him down on Laura's hearse.
Hereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed,
And groans of buried ghosts the heavens did pierce,
Where Homer's spright did tremble all for grief,
And curs'd th' access of that cœlestial thief.

THE SHEPHERD'S DESCRIPTION OF LOVE.

Ascribed to Sir W. Raleigh in England's Helicon.

Melibaeus. SHEPHERD, what's love? I pray thee tell.
Faustus. It is that fountain and that well

Where pleasure and repentance dwell;
It is, perhaps, that sauncing bell
That tolls all into heaven or hell,

And this is love, as I heard tell.
M. Yet, what is love? I prithee say.
F. It is a work on holiday;

It is December match'd with May,
When lusty blood 's in fresh array,
And this is love, as I hear say.

M. Yet, what is love? good shepherd, sain.
F. It is a sunshine mixt with rain;

It is a toothache, or like pain;

It is a game where none doth gain;
The lass saith no, and would full fain.
And this is love, as 1 hear sain.

M. Yet, shepherd, what is love, I pray?
F. It is a yea, it is a nay,

A pretty kind of sporting fray,

It is a thing will soon away;

Then nymphs take vantage while you

may,

And this is love, as I hear say.

M. And what is love, good shepherd, shew?
F. A thing that creeps, it cannot go;

A prize that passeth to and fro;
A thing for one, a thing for moe,

And he that proves shall find it so;
And, shepherd, this is love, I trow.

DULCINA.

As at noon Dulcina rested

In her sweet and shady bower, Came a shepherd, and requested In her lap to sleep an hour. But from her look

A wound he took

So deep, that for a farther boon
The nymph he prays;

Whereto she says,

"Forego me now, come to me soon!"

But in vain she did conjure him

To depart her presence so,

Having a thousand tongues t' allure him, And but one to bid him go.

When lips invite,

And eyes delight,

And cheeks, as fresh as rose in June

Persuade delay,

What boots to say,

"Forego me now, come to me soon!"

He demands, what time for pleasure
Can there be more fit than now?
She says, night gives that leisure
Which the day doth not allow.
He says, the sight
Improves delight;

VOL. V.

L

Which she denies; "Night's murky noon

66

In Venus' plays

Makes bold," says,

'Forego me now, come to me soon!"

But what promise, or profession,

From his hands could purchase scope?
Who would sell the sweet possession
Of such beauty for a hope?
Or for the sight

Of lingering night,

Forego the present joys of noon?
Tho' ne'er so fair

Her speeches were,

"Forego me now, come to me soon!"

How at last agreed these lovers?

She was fair, and he was young:

The tongue may tell what th' eye discovers ? Joys unseen are never sung.

Did she consent,

Or he relent?

Accepts he night, or grants she noon?

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Left he her maid,

Or not? she said,

Forego me now, come to me soon!"

HIS LOVE ADMITS NO RIVAL.

SHALL I, like a hermit, dwell,
On a rock, or in a cell,
Calling home the smallest part
That is missing in my heart,

To bestow it where I may
Meet a rival every day?
If she undervalue me,

What care I how fair she be?

Were her tresses angel gold,
If a stranger may be bold,
Unrebuked, unafraid,

To convert them to a braid;
And with little more ado
Work them into bracelets, too?
If the mine be grown so free,
What care I how rich it be?

Were her band as rich a prize
As her hairs, or precious eyes,
If she lay them out to take
Kisses, for good manners' sake:
And let every lover skip
From her hand unto her lip;
If she seem not chaste to me,
What care I how chaste she be?

No; she must be perfect snow,
In effect as well as show;
Warming but as snow-balls do,
Not like fire, by burning too;
But when she by change hath got
To her heart a second lot,
Then, if others share with me,

Farewell her, whate'er she be '

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