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Love is the fire and sighs the smoke,
The ashes, shame and scorns; The fuel Justice layethon,
And Mercy blows the coals;
Are men's defiled souls;
To work them to their good,
To wash them in my blood.” With this He vanish'd out of sight,
And swiftly shrunk away, And straight I called unto mind
That it was Christmas-day.
Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
But could youth last, and love still breed,
PILGRIM TO PILGRIM As you came from the holy land
By the way as you came?
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE (1564-1593)
SIR WALTER RALEIGH (1552 7-1618) *
THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE SHEPIIERD If all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love.
shrine of Our Lady, the object of many pil-
* Neither of the two poems here given as Raleigh's
can be ascribed to him with much confidence. The first appeared in England's Helicon over the name "Ignoto.” The MS. of the second bears the initials "$r. W. R.”
What's the cause that she leaves you alone, | Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: And a new way doth take,
Most frien-lship is feigning, most loving mere Who loved you once as her own,
folly: And her joy did you make ?
Then, heigh ho! the holly!
This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
Thou dost not bite so nigh From the withered tree.
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp, Know that Love is a careless child,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember'd not.
32 Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere His desire is a durelessi content, And a trustless joy;
Then, heigh ho! the holly! He is won with a world of despair
This life is most jolly. And is lost with a toy.
F'Rom MEASURE FOR MEASURE Of womankind such indeed is the love,
Take, o, take those lips away, Or the word love abused,
That so sweetly were forsworn; Under which many childish desires
And those eyes, the break of clay, And conceits are excusèd.
Lights that do mislead the morn: But true love is a durable fire,
But thy kisses bring again, In the mind ever burning,
Bring again, Never sick, never oli, never dead,
Seals of love, but sealed in vain, From itself never turning.
Sealed in vain!
FROM TWELFTH Night
Come away, come away, Death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it!
Vy part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be
thrown: Come hither, come hither, come hither!
| A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there.
FROM As You LIKE IT
As man's ingratitude;
Although thy breath be rude. i unenduring 2 trifle
From another one?
And his sandal shoon.4
| 4 Pilgrims wore cockle shells in their hats in sign
of their heving crossed the sea to the Holy Land. and lovers not infrequently assumed this disguise.
Work apace! apace! apace! apace!
THOMAS CAMPION (d. 1619)
CHERRY-RIPE There is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies grow; A heavenly paradise is that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow;
6 who (the French general) 7 i. e., sending an order * In the course of the Hundred Years' War the
English won three great victories over the French in the face of enormous odds-Crécy in 1346, Poitiers in 1356, and Agincourt in 1415. The last was won by Henry the Fifth. and so well was the glory of it remembered that after nearly two hundred years Drayton could celebrate it in this ballad, which bids fair to stand as the supreme national ballad of England. Breathless from the first word to the last, rude and rhythmic as the tread of an army, it arouses the martial spirit as few things but its imitators can.
5 thickly strewn
And turning to his men, Quoth our brave Henry then: “ Though they to one be ten
Be not amazed!
By Fame been raised!
That like to serpents stung,
Piercing the weather. None from his fellow starts; But, playing manly parts, And like true English hearts,
Stuck close together.
Not one was tarıly.
Our men were hardy.
The Duke of York so dread
Amongst his henchmen:
On the false Frenchmen!
This while our noble King,
As to o’erwhelm it;
Bruised his helmet.
With his brave brother;
Scarce such another!
Still as they ran up.
Ferrers and Fanhope. Upon Saint Crispin's Day Fought was this noble Fray; Which Fame did not delay
To England to carry. O when shall English men With such acts fill a pen? Or England breed again
Such a King Harry?
They now to fight are gone;
To hear, was wonder;
Thunder to thunder.
Well it thine age became,
To our hid forces !
Stuck the French horses.
BEN JONSON (1573?-1637)
To CELIA Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup
And I'll not look for wine.
With Spanish yew so strong; Arrows a cloth-yard long,
Through swords, through seas, whither si
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
I would not change for thine.
Not so much honouring thee
It could not wither'd be;
And sent’st it back to me;
Not of itself but thee!
Do but look on her eyes, they clo light
All that Love's world compriseth! Do but look on her hair, it is bright
As Love's star when it riseth!
Than words that soothe her;
Sheds itself through the face
THE TRIUMPH OF CHARIS See the chariot at hand here of Love,
Wherein my lady rideth!
And well the car Love guideth.
Unto her beauty; And enamour'd, do wish, so they might
But enjoy such a sight, That they still were to run by her side,
Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rulle hands have touched it? Have you marked but the fall of the snow
Before the soil hath smutched it?
Or swan's down ever ?
Or the nard in the fire ? Or have tasted the bag of the bee? | Oh so white! Oh so soft! Oh so sweet is she