But promised both to recompense,—

Be unto her a goodly ornament,

And for short time an endless monument!

JOHN LYLY.

1554-1601.

SONG OF APELLES.

Cupid and my Campaspè play'd
At cards for kisses, Cupid paid:
His stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother's doves and team of sparrows;
Loses them too; then down he throws

The coral of his lip, the rose

Growing on's cheek (but none knows how),
With these the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin :
All these did my Campaspè win.
At last he set her both his eyes;
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O Love! has she done this to thee,
What shall, alas! become of me?

PAN'S SYRINX.

Pan's Syrinx was a girl indeed,

Though now she's turn'd into a reed:
From that dear reed Pan's pipe doth come,

A pipe that strikes Apollo dumb.
Nor flute, nor lute, nor gittern can
So chaunt it as the pipe of Pan;
Cross-garter'd swains, and dairy girls
With faces smug and round as pearls,
When Pan's shrill pipe begins to play
With dancing wear out night and day.
The bagpipe's drone his hum lays by

When Pan sounds up his minstrelsy:
His minstrelsy? O base! this quill,
Which at my mouth with wind I fill,
Puts me in mind, though her I miss,
That still my Syrinx' lips I kiss.

SIR EDWARD DYER.

1550 ?-1607.

MIND'S WEALTH.

My mind to me a kingdom is :
Such present joys therein I find

That it excels all other bliss

That earth affords or grows by kind : Though much I want which most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave.

No princely pomp, no wealthy store,
No force to win the victory,

No wily wit to salve a sore,

No shape to feed a loving eye,—
To none of these I yield as thrall :
For why? my mind doth serve for all.

I see how plenty surfeits oft,

And hasty climbers soon do fall; I see that those which are aloft

Mishap doth threaten most of all: These get with toil, they keep with fear; Such cares my mind could never bear.

Content I live, this is my stay :

I seek no more than may suffice,

I press to bear no haughty sway;

Look! what I lack my mind supplies :

Lo, thus I triumph like a king,
Content with that my mind doth bring.

Some have too much, yet still do crave;

I little have, and seek no more:

They are but poor, though much they have;
And I am rich with little store :

They poor, I rich; they beg, I give ;
They lack, I leave; they pine, I live.
I laugh not at another's loss,

I grudge not at another's gain;
No worldly waves my mind can toss ;
My state at one doth still remain :
I fear no foe, I fawn no friend;
I loathe not life, nor dread my end.

Some weigh their pleasure by their lust,
Their wisdom by their rage of will;
Their treasure is their only trust,

A cloaked craft their store, of skill :
But all the pleasure that I find
Is to maintain a quiet mind.

My wealth is health and perfect ease;
My conscience clear my chief defence,
I neither seek by bribes to please
Nor by deceit to breed offence.
Thus do I live; thus will I die :
Would all did so as well as I !

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

1554-1586.

HEART AND SOUL.

O Fair! O Sweet! when I do look on thee

In whom all joys so well agree,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

This you hear is not my tongue Which once said what I conceived: For it was of use bereavèd,

With a cruel answer stung.

No! though tongue to roof be cleaved,
Fearing lest he chastised be,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

O Fair! O Sweet! when I do look on thee In whom all joys so well agree,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

Just accord all music makes :
In thee just accord excelleth,
Where each part in such peace dwelleth
One of other beauty takes.

Since then truth to all minds telleth
That in thee lives harmony,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

O Fair! O Sweet! when I do look on thee In whom all joys so well agree,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

They that heaven have known do say

That whoso this grace obtaineth,

To see what fair sight there reigneth,
Forced are to sing alway:

So then since that heaven remaineth
In thy face I plainly see,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

O Fair! O Sweet! when I do look on thee In whom all joys so well agree,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

Sweet! think not I am at ease

For because my chief part singeth :
This song from death-sorrow springeth,
As from swan in last disease:

For no dumbness nor death bringeth
Stay to true love's melody,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

THE MEETING.

In a grove, most rich of shade,
Where birds wanton music made,

May, then young, his pied weeds showing,
New-perfumed with flowers fresh growing,

Astrophel with Stella sweet

Did for mutual comfort meet,
Both within themselves oppressed,
But each in the other blessed.

Him great harms had taught much care,
Her fair neck a foul yoke bare ;
But her sight his cares did banish,
In his sight her yoke did vanish.

Wept they had, alas the while!
But now tears themselves did smile,
While their eyes, by love directed,
Interchangeably reflected.

Sigh they did but now betwixt
Sighs of woes were glad sighs mix'd;
With arms cross'd, yet testifying
Restless rest, and living dying.

Their ears hungry of each word
Which the dear tongue would afford,
But their tongues restrain'd from walking
Till their hearts had ended talking.

But, when their tongues could not speak,

Love itself did silence break;

Love did set his lips asunder,

Thus to speak in love and wonder.

Stella! sovereign of my joy,

Fair triumpher of annoy!