FRESH Spring, the herald of loves mighty king,
In whose cote-armour richly are displayd
All sorts of flowers,
the which on earth do spring,
In goodly colours gloriously arrayd
Goe to my love, where she is carelesse
Yet in her winters bowre not well awake;
Tell her the joyous time wil not be staid,
Unlesse she doe
him by the forelock take;
Bid her therefore her selfe soone ready make,
To wayt on Love amongst his
Where every one, that misseth then her make,
Shall be by him amearst with penance dew.
hast, therefore, sweet love, whilest it is prime;
For none can call againe the passàd time.
In praise of Eliza, Queen of the Shepherds
SEE where she sits upon the grassie greene,
(O seemely sight!)
Yclad in Scarlot, like a mayden
And ermines white:
Upon her head a Cremosin coronet
With Damaske roses and Daffadillies
Bay leaves betweene,
And primroses greene,
Embellish the sweete Violet.
Tell me, have ye seene her angelick face
Like Phbe fayre?
Her heavenly haveour, her princely grace,
you well compare?
The Redde rose medled1 with the White yfere,2
In either cheeke depeincten lively
Her modest eye,
Where have you seene the like but there?
I see Calliope speede her to the place,
Where my Goddesse shines;
And after her the other Muses trace
Bene they not Bay braunches which they do beare,
All for Eliza in her hand to weare?
sweetely they play,
And sing all the way,
That it a heaven is to heare.
Lo, how finely the Graces can it foote
To the Instrument:
They dauncen deffly, and singen soote,3
Wants not a fourth Grace to make the daunce even?
Let that rowne to my Lady be yeven.
shal be a Grace,
To fyll the fourth place,
And reigne with the rest in heaven.
Bring hether the Pincke and Purple Cullambine,
Bring Coronations,4 and Sops-in-wine5
Strowe me the ground with Daffadowndillies,
And Cowslips, and Kingcups, and lovàd Lillies:
And the Chevisaunce,7
Shall match with the fayre flowre Delice.8
Now ryse up, Elisa, deckàd as thou art
In royall aray;
And now ye daintie Damsells may depart
I feare I have troubled your troupes to longe:
Let dame Elisa thanke you for her song:
And if you
When Damsines I gether,
I will part them all you among.
UNHAPPY Verse, the witnesse of my unhappie state,
Make thy selfe fluttring wings of thy fast flying
and fly forth unto my Love, whersoever she be:
Whether lying reastlesse in heavy bed, or else
so cheerelesse at the cheerfull boord, or else
Playing alone carelesse on her heavenlie Virginals.
Bed, tell her that my eyes can take no rest;
If at Boord, tell her that my mouth can eat no meate;
her Virginals, tell her I can heare no mirth.
Asked why? say, Waking Love suffereth no sleepe;
raging Love doth appall the weak stomacke;
Say that lamenting Love marreth the Musicall.
Tell her that
her pleasures were wonte to lull me asleepe;
Tell her that her beautie was wonte to feede mine eyes;
her that her sweete Tongue was wont to make me mirth.
Nowe do I nightly waste, wanting my kindely
Nowe do I dayly starve, wanting my lively food?
Nowe do I alwayes dye, wanting thy timely mirth.
if I waste, who will bewaile my heavy chaunce?
And if I starve, who will record my cursed end?
And if I
dye, who will saye, this was Immerito?