Poets of the Sixteenth Century.

Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–1542). See biographical note, page 252. Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1517-1547). See biographical note, page 252.

George Gascoigne (1536–1577). "The Steel Glass”; “The Tragedy of Iocaste."

Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst (1536–1608). "The Induction to the Mirror for Magistrates"; "The Tragedy of Gorboduc." Edmund Spenser (1552-1598). See biographical note, page 245.

Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586). "Astrophel and Stella"; sonnets and short poems.

Thomas Watson (1557-1592). "The Hecatompathia or Passionate Century of Love"; "Meliboeus"; "The Tears of Fancie."

John Lyly (1554-1606). Lyrical poems; "Alexander and Campaspe"; "Love's Metamorphosis."

Robert Greene (1560-1592). Dramas and lyrical poems.

Christopher Marlowe (1564-1593). Dramas and lyrical poems.
Thomas Lodge (1556-1625). Dramas and lyrical poems.
William Warner (1550-1609). "Albion's England";

or Pipe."

William Shakespeare (1564-1616). See note, page 221.

Pan, his Syrinx

Samuel Daniel (1562-1619). "History of the Civil Wars between the

two Houses of York and Lancaster."

Sir Walter Raleigh (1552-1618). Short poems.

George Chapman (1559-1634).

"Homer's Odyssey."

Translations of "Homer's Iliad" and

Michael Drayton (1563–1631). "Polyolbion"; "The Barons' Wars";

"The Battle of Agincourt."

Joseph Hall (1574-1656). "Virgidemiarum"; satires.

-1626). "Nosce Teipsum."

John Donne (1573-1631). Short poems.

Sir John Davies (

216

William Shakespeare.

VENUS'S ADVICE TO ADONIS ON HUNTING.

66

[FROM VENUS AND ADONIS."]

"THOU hadst been gone," quoth she, "sweet boy, ere this,

But that thou told'st me thou wouldst hunt the boar.
O, be advised! thou know'st not what it is

With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore,
Whose tushes never sheathed he whetteth still,
Like to a mortal butcher bent to kill.

"On his bow-back he hath a battle set

Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes;

His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret ;
His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes;

Being moved, he strikes whate'er is in his way,
And when he strikes his crooked tushes slay.

"His brawny sides, with hairy bristles arm'd,
Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter;
His short thick neck cannot be easily harm'd;
Being ireful, on the lion he will venture:

The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,
As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes.

"Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine,
To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes;
Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyne,
Whose full perfection all the world amazes;

But having thee at vantage, wondrous dread!
Would root these beauties as he roots the mead.

"O, let him keep his loathsome cabin still; Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends: Come not within his danger by thy will;

They that thrive well take counsel of their friends. When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble, I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.

"But if thou needs wilt hunt, be ruled by me;
Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,
Or at the fox which lives by subtlety,

Or at the roe which no encounter dare:

Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs,
And on thy well-breathed horse keep with thy hounds.

"And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare,
Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles
How he outruns the wind and with what care
He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles:
The many musets through the which he goes
Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.

"Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep,
To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell,
And sometime where earth-delving conies keep,
To stop the loud pursuers in their yell,

And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer:
Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear :

"For there his smell with others being mingled, The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt, Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled With much ado the cold fault cleanly out;

Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies,
As if another chase were in the skies.

"By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,
Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear,
To hearken if his foes pursue him still:
Anon their loud alarums he doth hear;

And now his grief may be compared well
To one sore sick that hears the passing-bell.

"Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch
Turn, and return, indenting with the way;
Each envious brier his weary legs doth scratch,
Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay:
For misery is trodden on by many,

And being low never relieved by any."

A MORNING SONG FOR IMOGEN.

66

[FROM CYMBELINE."]

HARK, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chaliced flowers that lies;

And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise.

SIGH NO MORE, LADIES.

66

[FROM MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING."]

SIGH no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never:
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leafy:
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.

SUNSHINE AND CLOUD.

[SONNET XXXIII.]

FULL many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;

Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celestial face,