For kings have wars and broils to take in hand,
When shepherds laugh, and love upon the land;
Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

ROBERT GREENE.

TELL ME, MY HEART, IF THIS BE
LOVE.

WHEN Delia on the plain appears,
Awed by a thousand tender fears,

I would approach, but dare not move ; —
Tell me, my heart, if this be love.

Whene'er she speaks, my ravished ear
No other voice than hers can hear;
No other wit but hers approve ;
Tell me, my heart, if this be love.

If she some other swain commend,
Though I was once his fondest friend,
His instant enemy I prove;
Tell me, my heart, if this be love.

When she is absent, I no more
Delight in all that pleased before,
The clearest spring, the shadiest grove ;
Tell me, my heart, if this be love.

When fond of power, of beauty vain,
Her nets she spread for every swain,
I strove to hate, but vainly strove;
Tell me, my heart, if this be love.

GEORGE, LORD LYTTELTON.

MY TRUE-LOVE HATH MY HEART. My true-love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange one to the other given : I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,

There never was a better bargain driven : My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.

His heart in me keeps him and me in one;
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:
He loves my heart, for once it was his own;
I cherish his because in me it bides:
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

I SAW TWO CLOUDS AT MORNING.

I SAW two clouds at morning,
Tinged by the rising sun,

And in the dawn they floated on,
And mingled into one;

I thought that morning cloud was blest,
It moved so sweetly to the west.

"In humble, simplest habit clad, No wealth or power had he; Wisdom and worth were all he had, But these were all to me.

"And when beside me in the dale
He carolled lays of love,
His breath lent fragrance to the gale
And music to the grove.

"The blossom opening to the day, The dews of heaven refined, Could naught of purity display

To emulate his mind.

"The dew, the blossoms of the tree,

With charms inconstant shine; Their charms were his, but, woe to me! Their constancy was mine.

"For still I tried each fickle art, Importunate and vain;

And while his passion touched my heart,
I triumphed in his pain:

"Till, quite dejected with my scorn,
He left me to my pride;
And sought a solitude forlorn,
In secret, where he died.

"But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,
And well my life shall pay ;
I'll seek the solitude he sought,
And stretch me where he lay.

"And there forlorn, despairing, hid,
I'll lay me down and die;
'T was so for me that Edwin did,
And so for him will I."

ON LOVE.

THERE is no worldly pleasure here below, Which by experience doth not folly prove; But among all the follies that I know,

The sweetest folly in the world is love: But not that passion which, with fools' consent, Above the reason bears imperious sway, Making their lifetime a perpetual Lent, As if a man were born to fast and pray. No, that is not the humor I approve,

As either yielding pleasure or promotion; I like a mild and lukewarm zeal in love, Although I do not like it in devotion ; For it has no coherence with my creed,

To think that lovers die as they pretend; If all that say they dy had dy'd indeed, Sure, long ere now the world had had an end. Besides, we need not love but if we please, No destiny can force men's disposition; And how can any die of that disease Whereof himself may be his own physician ? But some seem so distracted of their wits, That I would think it but a venial sin To take some of those innocents that sits In Bedlam out, and put some lovers in. Yet some men, rather than incur the slander Of true apostates, will false martyrs prove, But I am neither Iphis nor Leander,

I'll neither drown nor hang myself for love. Methinks a wise man's actions should be such As always yield to reason's best advice; Now, for to love too little or too much

Are both extreams, and all extreams are vice. Yet have I been a lover by report,

Yea I have dy'd for love, as others do; But, praised be God, it was in such a sort, That I revived within an hour or two. Thus have I lived, thus have I loved till now, And find no reason to repent me yet; And whosoever otherways will do, His courage is as little as his wit.

SIR ROBERT AYTON.

MY CHOICE.

SHALL I tell you whom I love?
Hearken then awhile to me;
And if such a woman move
As I now shall versify,
Be assured 't is she or none,
That I love, and love alone.

Nature did her so much right
As she scorns the help of art.
In as many virtues dight
As e'er yet embraced a heart.