Distrust doth enter hearts, but not infect, If she for this with clouds do mask her eyes, THE HERMIT'S SONG. From fame's desire, from love's delight retired, Experience, which repentance only brings, Doth bid me now my heart from love estrange : You men that give false worship unto Love, Whose end is this-to know you strive in vain. You woods! in you the fairest nymphs have walk'd, How do you now a place of mourning prove! Wanstead! my Mistress saith this is the doom. Thou art love's child-bed, nursery, and tomb. WALY! WALY! O, waly! waly! up the bank, I thought it was a trusty tree; O, waly! waly! but love be bonny, And says he'll never love me mair. Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed, The sheets shall ne'er be fyled by me; Saint Anthon's well shall be my drink, Since my true Love's forsaken me. Martinmas wind! when wilt thou blaw And shake the green leaves off the tree? O gentle Death! when wilt thou come? For of my life I am wearie. 'Tis not the frost that freezes fell, Nor blawing wind's inclemency; 'Tis not sic cauld that gars me cry: But my Love's heart grown cauld to me. When we came in by Glasgow town, We were a comely sight to see : My Love was clad in the black velvet, But had I wist before I kiss'd That love had been sae ill to win, I'd lock'd my heart in a case of gold, And pinn'd it with a silver pin. O! O! if my young babe were born, And set upon the nurse's knee; And I myself were dead and gane, Since a maid again I'll never be ! PHILLADA. O, what a pain is love! She will unconstant prove: She so torments my mind, That my strength faileth, All the fair yesterday And would not spy me; I woo'd her for to dine, But could not get her; Fair Maid! be not so coy, Do not disdain me! I am my mother's joy : Sweet! entertain me! A pair of mattrass beds, She hath a clout of mine, Wrought with blue coventry, Which she keeps for a sign She shall not wear it ; To Tib, my t'other wench, And yet it grieves my heart So soon from her to part: Thou shalt eat crudded cream Whig and whey whilst thou lust, Pie-lid and pastry crust, Pears, plums, and cherries; Thy raiment shall be thin, Made of a weevil's skin Yet all's not worth a pin : Fair maiden! have a care, And in time take me! I can have those as fair, For Doll the dairy maid Laugh'd at me lately, And wanton Winifred Favours me greatly. One throws milk on my clothes, I can not work nor sleep Love wounds my heart so deep, I 'gin to pine away In my Love's shadow, I shall be dead, I fear, BEAUTY BATHING. Beauty sat bathing by a spring, Where fairest shades did hide her: The winds blew calm, the birds did sing, The cool streams ran beside her. My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye, |