Mine hart gan new reuiue, and changed blood did
Me to withdrawe my wynter woes, that kept within the dore.
Abrode, quod my desire, assay to set thy fote Where thou shalt finde the savour swete, for sprong is euery rote.
And to thy health, if thou were sick in any case, Nothing more good, than in the spring the aire to fele a space.
There shalt thou heare and se al kyndes of birdes ywrought,
Wel tune their voice with warble smal, as nature hath them tought. [leaue: Thus pricked me my lust the sluggish house to And for my health I thought it best such counsel
So on a morow furth, vnwist of any wight,
I went to proue how well it woulde my heauy
burthen light.
And when I felt the aire so pleasant rounde about,
Lord, to my self how glad I was that I had
[hent:
gotten out.
There might I se how Ver had euery blossome
And eke the new betrothed birdes ycoupled how
they went:
And in their songes me-thought they thanked na-
ture much,
That by her licence al that yere to loue their happe was such,
Right as they could deuise to chose them feres throughout;
With much reioysing to their Lord thus flew [ceaue they al about. Which when I gan resolue, and in my head conWhat pleasant lyfe, what heapes of joy these
And saw in what estate I wery man was wrought,
By want of that they had at will, and I reiect at
nought:
Lord, how I gan in wrath vnwisely me demeane!
I cursed Loue and him defied: I thought to
turne the streame.
But when I well beheld he had me vnder awe,
I asked mercy for my fault, that so transgrest
his lawe,
|COMPLAINT OF A LOUER REBUKED.
LOUE, that liueth aud raigneth in my thought,
That built his seat within my captiue brest,
Clad in the armes wherin with me he fought,
Oft in my face he doth his banner rest.
She, that me tought to loue, and suffer paine:
My doutful hope, aud eke my hot desire
With shamfast cloke to shadowe and restraine;
Her smiling grace conuerteth straight to ire.
And coward Loue then to the hart apace
Taketh his flight, wheras he lurkes and plaines
His purpose lost, and dare not shewe bis face.
For my lordes gilt thus faultlesse bide I paines; f
Yet from my lorde shal not my foote remoue:
Swete is his death, that takes his end by Loue,
COMPLAINT OF THE LOUER DISDAINED.
IN Ciprus springes, whereas danie Venus dwelt, a
A well so hote, that whoso tastes the same,
Were he of stone, as thawed yse should melt.
And kindled find his breast with fixed flame:
Whose moyst poyson dissolued hath my hate, C
This crepinge fire my colde lims so opprest, d
That in the hart that harborde fredome late,
Endlesse despayre long thraldome hath imprest.
Another so colde in frozen yse is founde,
Whose chilling venom of repugnant kinde
The feruent heat doth quenche of Cupides wounde, Y
And with the spot of change infects the minde:
Whereof my dere bath tasted, to my paine, 9
My seruice thus is growen into disdaine.
น
DESCRIPTION AND PRAISE OF HIS LOUE
GERALDINE.
FROM Tuskane came my ladies worthy race; Faire Florence was sometime her The western yle, whose plesant shore doth face Wilde Cambers clifs, did gyve her linely heate: Fostred she was with milke of Irish brest; Her sire, an Erle; her dame of princes blood: From tender yeres, in Britain she doth rest Thou blinded God (quod 1) forgeue me this offence, With kinges childe, where she tasteth costly food. Unwittingly I went about, to malice thy pre-Honsdon did first present her to mine yien; Bright is her hewe, and Geraldine she hight: Hampton me taught to wishe her first for mine: And Windsor, alas, doth chase me from her sight. Her beauty of kind, her vertues from aboue; Happy is he, that can obtaine her loue!
[swore: tence. Wherwith he gaue a beck, and thus me-thought he Thy sorow ought suffice to purge thy fault, if it
The vertue of which sound mine hert did so reuiue,
That I, me-thought, was made as whole as any
man alive.
But here I may perceive mine errour al and some,
For that I thought that so it was; yet was it stil
[minde,
undone:
And al that was no more but mine expressed
That faine would haue some good reliefe of
Cupide wel assinde.
I turned home forthwith and might perceiue it wel,
That he agreued was right sore with me for my
[more;
rebel.
My harmes haue, euer since, encreased more and
And I remaine without his help, vndone for
A mirror let me be vnto ye louers all:
Striue not with Loue, for if ye do, it will ye thus
befall.
lewell of jeopardie that peril doth assaile;
False and vntrue, enticed oft to treason;
Enmy to youth, that most may I bewaile:
Ah, bitter swete, infecting as the poyson.
Thou farest as frute that with the frost is taken,
To day redy ripe, to morowe all to shaken.
Sith fyrst she knew my griefe was growen so greate;
Whiche other fansies driueth from my hart
That to my self I do the thought reserue,
The which unwares did wound my woeful brest;
But on her face mine eyes mought neuer rest:
Yet sins she knew I did her loue and serue,
Her golden tresses cladde alway with blacke;
Her smyling lokes that bid thus enermore,
LA COMPLAINT BY NIGHT OF THE LOUER And that restraines whiche I desire so sore:
So dothe thys cornet gouerne me alacke:
In somer, sunne: in winters breathe, a froste:
Wherby the light of her faire lokes I lost.
ALAS, So all thinges now doe holde their peace,
Heaven and earth disturbed in no thing, [cease,
The beastes, the ayer, the birdes their songe doe
The nightès chare the starres abòute doth bring;
Calme is the sea, the waues worke lesse and lesse: REQUEST TO HIS LOUE TO IOINE BOUNTIE
So am not I, whom loue alas doth wring,
Bringing before my face the great encrease
Of my desires, wherat I wepe and sing,
In joy and wo, as in a doutful case!
For my swete thoughtes, sometime do pleasure
But by and by the cause of my disease [bring;
Geves me a pang, that inwardly doth sting,
When that I thinke what grief it is againe,
To liue and lack the thing should rid my paine.
HOW ECHE THING SAUE THE LOUER IN
SPRING REUIUETH TO PLEASURE.
WHEN Windsor walles susteined my wearied
arme,
My hand my chin, to ease my restlesse hed:
The pleasant plot reuested green with warme, &
The blossomd bowes with lusty Ver yspred,
The flowred meades, the wedded birdes so late c
Mine eyes discouer: and to my minde resorte
The ioly woes, the hateless short debate,
The rakehell life that longes to loues disporte:d
Wherewith, alas, the heauy charge of care e
Heapt in my breast breakes forth, against my will,
In smoky sighes, that ouercast the ayer,
My vapord eyes such drery teares distill,
The tender spring which quicken where they
And I halfe bent to throwe me downe withall.
THE golden gift that nature did the give,
To fasten frendes and fede them at thy will;
With fourme and fauour, taught me to beleue,
How thou arte made to showe her greatest skil;
Whose hidden vertues are not so vnknowen,
But lively dames mighte gather at the first
Where beauty so her perfecte seede hath sowen,
Of other graces folow nedes there must.
Now certesse Ladie, sins all thys is true,"
That from aboue thy giftes are thus eleet;
Do not deface them than with fansies newe,
Nor change of mindes let not the minde infect:
But mercy hym thy frende, that doth thee serve,
Who sekes always thine honour to preserue,
With eyes cast vp into the mayden tower,
A VOW TO LOUE FAITHFULLY HOW SO- And easie sighes, such as folk drawe in Loue;
EUER HE BE REWARDED.
SET me whereas the sunne doth parche the grene,
Or where his beames do not dissolue the yse:
la
In temperate heate where he is felt and sene: a
In presence prest of people madde or wise:
Set me in hye, or yet in low degree;
In longest night, or in the shortest daye: d.
In clearest skie, or where cloudes thickest be;
In lusty youth, or when my heeres are graye: &
Set me in heauen, in earth, or els in hell,
In hyll or dale, or in the foming flood,
Thrall, or at large, aliue wkereso I dwell,
Sicke or in health, in euill fame or good:
Hers will I be, and onely with this thought
Content my self, although my chaunce be nought.
COMPLAINT THAT HIS LADY AFTER SHE
KNEW OF HIS LOUE, KEPT HER FACE
ALWAY HIDDEN FROM HIM.
I NEVER save my Lady laye apart,
Her cornet blacke, in colde nor yet in heate,
The stately seates, the ladies bright of hewe;
With wordes and lokes, that tygers could but rewe,
The daunces shorte, long tales of great delight
Where ech of vs did pleade the others right.
The palme play, where, despoyled for the game,
With dazed yies oft we by gleames of loue,
Haue mist the bali, and gote sighte of our dame,
To bayte her eyes, which kept the leads aboue2,
The grauell grounde, wythe sleues tide on the
belme
On fomyng horse, with swordes and friendly
With chear as though one should another whelme,
Where we haue fought, and chased oft with dartes;
In actiue games of nimbleues and strength,
With siluer droppes the meade yet spred for ruthe,
Where we did straine, trayned with swarmes of
Our tender limmes, that yet shot vp in length:
youth,
The young duke of Richmond. W.
2 The ladies were ranged on the leads or battles ments of the castle to see the play. W.
The secrete groues which oft we made resounde,
Of pleasaunt playnt, and of our ladies praise,
Recording oft what grace ech one had founde,
What hope of spede, what drede of long delayes:
The wilde forest, the clothed holtes with grene,
With rayns auailed and swift ybreathed horse;
With crie of houndes and mery blastes betwene,
Where we did chase the fearful harte of force.
The wide vales eke, that harborde vs eche nighte,
Wherwith (alas) reuiueth in my brest
The swete accorde, such slepes as yet delight,
The pleasant dreames, the quiet bed of rest:
The secrete thoughtes imparted with such trust,
The wanton talke, the diuers change of play,
The frendship sworne, eche promise kept so
just;
Wherwith we past the winter night away.
And with this thought, the bloud forsakes the face,
The teares berayne my chekes of deadly hewe,
The whyche as sone as sobbing sighes, alas,
Upsupped have, thus I my plaint renewe:
O place of blisse! renuer of my woes,
Giue me accompt, where is my noble fere;
Whom in thy walles thou dost ech night enclose;
To other leefe, but unto me most dere:
Eecho alas, that doth my sorow rewe,
Returns therto a hollowe sounde of playnte.
Thus I alone, where all my fredome grewe,
Ia prison pine with bondage and restrainte,
And with remembrance of the greater greefe,
To banish the lesse, I find my chief releefe.
THE LOUER COMFORTETH HIMSELF
WITH THE WORTHINESSE OF HIS
LOUE.
WHEN raging loue with extreme paine,
Must cruelly distrains my hart;
When that my teares, as floudes of raine,
Peare witnes of my wofull smart:
When sighes haue wasted so my breath,
That I lye at the poynt of death:
1 call to minde the nauye great,
That the Grekes brought to Troy towne,
And how the boysteous windes did beate
Their ships, and rent their sailes adowne,
Till Agamemnons daughters bloode,
Appeasde the Goddes that them withstode:
And how that in those ten yeres warre,
Full many a bloudy dede was done;
And many a lord that came full farre,
There caughte his bane (alas) to sone:
And many a good knight ouerronne,
Before the Grekes had Helene wonne.
Then thinke I thus: sithe suche repayre,
So longe time warre of valiant men,
Was all to winne a Lady fayre;
Shall I not learne to suffre then,
And think my life well spent to be,
Seruing a worthier wight than she?
Therfore. I neuer will repent,
But paines contented stil endure;
For like as when, rough winter spent,
The pleasant spring straight draweth in vre;
So after raging stormes of care,
Joyfull at length may be my fare.
COMPLAINT OF THE ABSENCE OF HER LOUER BEING UPON THE SEA.
The frute of your delight;
HAPPY dames, that may embrace
Help to bewaile the wofull case,
And eke the heavy plight.
Of me, that wonted to reioyce,
Good Ladies, help to fil my mourning voyce,
The fortune of my pleasant choice:
In ship, freight withe rememberance
Of thoughts and pleasures past,
He sailes, that hath in governance,
My life, while it will last.
With scalding sighes, for lacke of gale,
Furdering hys hope that is his saile,
Toward me, the swete port of hys auaile,
Alas! how oft in dremes I se
Those cyes that were my food,
Whych somtime so delighted me
That yet they do me good:
Wherwith I wake with his returne,
Whose absent flame did make me burne;
But when I finde the lack, Lord! how I mourne!
When other louers in armes acrosse,
Reioice their chiefe delight;
Drowned in teares to mourne my losse
I stand the bytter nyght
In my window, where I may see,
Before the windes how the cloudes flee
Lo! what mariner loue hath made of mee?
And in grene waues when the salt flood Doth rise by rage of winde,
A thousand fansies in that mood,
Assayle my restlesse minde:
Alas! now drencheth my swete so,
That with the spoyle of my hart did go,
And left me but, alas! why did he so?
And when the seas waxe calme againe, To chace fro me annoye,
My doutful hope doth cause me plaine: So drede cuts off my ioye.
Thus in my wealth mingled with wo, And of ech thought a dout doth grow, Now he comes! will he come? alas, no.
Thy pleasures past haue wrought thy woe without | And geue him leaue to dye, that may no longer
If thou hadst never felt no ioy, thy smart had And retchlesse of hys life, he gan both syghe and grone,
A rufull thing, methought, it was, to heare him make such mone.
Thou cursed pen, sayd he, wo worth the birde thee bare;
The man, the knife, and al that made thee, wo
be to their share:
Wo worth the time, and place, where I could so
endite!
[can write!
And wo be it yet once againe, the pen that so
Unhappy hand! it had been happy time for me,
If, when to write thou learned first, vnjoynted
hadst thou be.
Thus cursed he himself, and euery other wight,
Saue her alone whom Loue him bound to serue
both day and night.
[fordid,
Which when I heard, and saw, how he himself
Against the ground with bloudy strokes, hin-
self euen there to rid;
[tho;
Had ben my heart of flint, it must haue melted
For in my life I neuer saw a man so full of wo.
With teares for his redresse, I rashly to him ran;
And in my armes 1 caught him fast, and thus 1
spake him than:
[case,
What wofull wight art thou, that in such heauy
Tormentes thy selfe with such despite, here in
this desert place?
[dred,
Wherewith, as all agast, fulfild with ire, and
He cast on me a staring loke, with colour pale
and ded;
[plight,
Nay; what art thou, quod he, that in this heauy
Doest find me here, most wofull wretch, that
lyfe hath in despight?
I am (quod I) but poore and simple in degre;
A shepardes charge 1 haue in hand, vnworthy
though I be:
[should fall,
Wyth that he gave a sighe as though the skie
And lowd alas he shriked oft, and Shepard, gan
he call;
Come hie thee fast at ones, and print it in thy hart;
So thou shall know, and I shall tell the, giltlesse
how I smart.
[faint,
His back against the tree, sore febled all with
With weary sprite, he stretcht hym up, and
thus he told his plaint:
[loue
Ones in my hart (quod he) it chaunced me to
Such one, in whom hath nature wrought, her
conning for to proue:
And sure I cannot say, but many yeres were spent,
With such good will so recompenst, as both we
Whose record lo I claime to haue, my death I do forgeue;
[plaine;
And eke when I am gone, be bold to speake it
Thou hast seen dye the truest man, that ever
loue dyd paine.
[for breath;
Wherwith he turnde him rounde, and gasping oft
Into his armes a tree he raught, and said, wel-
come my death:
Welcome a thousand folde, now dearer unto me,
Than should without her loue to liue an empe-
Whose death when I beheld, no marvel was it, right
For pitie though my heart did blede, to se so
piteous sight.
[sore;
My bloud from heat to cold oft changed wonders
A thousand troubles there I found I neuer knew
before:
[brought in feare,
Twene drede and dolour, so my sprites were
That long it was ere I could call to minde, what
I did there.
[of myne;
But as ech thing hath end, so had these payns
The furies past, and I my wits restord by length
of time:
Then as I could deuyse, to seke I thought it best,
Where I might finde some worthy place for such
And in my minde it came, from thence not farre
[away
Where Crescids love, king Priams sonne the
worthy Troilus lay:
By him I made his tombe, in token he was true,
And as to him belongeth well, I couered it with
Whose soule by angels power, departed not so sone, But to the heauens, lo, it fled, for to receiue his doine.
COMPLAINT OF THE ABSENCE OF HER
LOUER BEING UPON THE SEA.
GooD ladies, ye that haue your pleasures in exile,
Step in your fote, come take a place, and moorne
And such as by their lordes do set but little price,
Let them sit still, it skilles them not whatchance
But ye whom loue bath bound by order of desire,
To loue your lordes, whose good desertes none
Come ye yet ones againe, and set your fote by mine,
Whose wofull plight, and sorowes great, no tong
may well define.
My lone and lord, a'as! in whom consistes my
[welth,
Hath fortune sent to passe the seas in hazarde
of his belth:
[minde,
Whom I was wont t'embrace with well contented
Is now amid the foming floods at pleasure of the
winde :
[me sende,
Where God will him preserue, and sone bun home
Without which hope my life (alas) were shortly
at an ende.
[me plaine,
Whose absence yet although my hope doth tell
With short returne he comes anone, yet ceaseth
The fearfull dreames I haue, oft times do greue
That when I wake, I lye in dout, where they be [so hye, Sometimes the roaring seas, me semes, do grow That my dere lord, ay me, alas! methinkes I see him dye.
And other time the same doth tel me, he is come, And playing, where I shall him find with his faire litle sonne.
So, forth I goe apace to see that leefesome sight, And with a kisse, methinke, I say, welcome my lord, my knight;
Welcome my swete, alas, the stay of my welfare, Thy presence bringeth forth a truce atwixt me,
Then liuely doth he loke, and salueth me againe, And sayth, my dere, how is it now, that you haue all this payne? [brest, Wherewith the heavy cares that heapt are in my Breake forth, and me dischargen clene of all my huge unrest.
But when I me awake, and find it but a dreme The anguish of my former wo beginneth more extreme,
And me tormenteth so, that unneath may I find, Some hidden place, wherein to slake the gnawing of my mind.
Thus euery way you se, with absence how I burn, And for my wound, no cure I find, but hope of good return; [the more, Saue when I thinke, by sowre, how swete is feit It doth abate some of my paines, that I abode before:
And then unto my self I say, when we shall mete, But litle while shall seme this paine, the joy
Ye windes I you conjure in cheifest of your rage, That ye my lord me safely send, my sorowes to
A PRAISE OF HIS LOUE, WHERIN HE REPROUETH THEM THAT COMPARE THEIR LADIES WITH HIS.
GEVE place, ye louers, here before,
That spent your bostes and bragges in vain,
My ladies beawty passeth more,
The best of yours, I dare well sayen,
Then doth the sunne the candle light;
Or brightest day the darkest night,
And therto hath a troth as just, As had Penelope the faire, For what she sayth, ye may it trust, As by it writing sealed were: And virtues hath she many moe, Toan 1 with pen have skill to showe.
I could reherse if that I would, The whole effect of Natures plaint, When she had lost the perfite mould, The like to whome she could not paint: With wringyng hands, how she did ery, And what she said, I know it, I.
I knowe she swore with raging minde Her kingdome onely set apart; There was no losse, by lawe of kinde, That could haue gone so nere her hart; And this was chefely all her paine, She could not make the like againe.
Sith Nature thus gaue her the praise, To be the chefest worke she wrought; In faith me thinke some better wayes, On your behalfe might well be sought. Then to compare (as you haue done) To matche the candle withe the sunne.
TO THE LADIE THAT SCORNED HER
LOUER.
ALTHOUGH I had a check',
To geue the mate is hard;
For I haue found a neck,
To kepe my men in gard.
And you that hardy are,
To geue so great assay
Unto a man of warre,
To drive his men away:
I rede you take good hede,
And marke this foolish verse;
For I will so provide,
That I will have your ferse.
And when your ferse is had,
And all your warre is done,
Then shall your self be glad,
To end that you begone.
For if by chance I winne,
Your person in the feld,
To late then come you in
Your selfe to me to yeld.
For I will use my power,
As captaine full of might;
And such I will deuour,
As vse to shew me spight.
And for because you gaue
Me checke in your degre;
This vantage lo 1 haue,
Now checke and garde to the:
Defend it, if thou may,
Stand stiffe in thine estate,
For sure I will assay,
If I can giue the mate.
A WARNING TO THE LOUER, HOW HE IS ABUSED BY HIS LOUE.
To derely had I boughte my grene and youthfull [love apperes: yeres, If in mine age I coulde not finde, when craft for And seldome though I come in court among the [the best. rest, 'Yet can I iudge in colours dim, as depe as can
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