And turn upon the toe,
And sing hey nonny no!
When the winds blow and the seas flow?
Hey nonny no!
F Jove himself be subject unto Love
And range the woods to find a mortal prey;
If Neptune from the seas himself remove,
And seek on sands with earthly wights to play:
Then may I love my peerless choice by right,
Who far excels each other mortal wight.
If Pluto could by love be drawn from hell,
To yield himself a silly virgin's thrall;
If Phoebus could vouchsafe on earth to dwell,
To win a rustic maid unto his call:
Then how much more should I adore the sight
Of her, in whom the heavens themselves delight?
If country Pan might follow nymphs in chase,
And yet through love remain devoid of blame;
If Satyrs were excused for seeking grace
To joy the fruits of any mortal dame:
Then, why should I once doubt to love her still
On whom ne Gods nor men can gaze their fill?
T. Watson
A Praise of His Love
IVE place, ye lovers, here before
That spent your boasts and brags in vain;
My lady's beauty passeth more
The best of yours, I dare well sayen,
Than doth the sun the candle light
Or brightest day the darkest night.
And thereto hath a troth as just
As had Penelope the fair;
For what she saith, ye may it trust,
As it by writing sealed were:
And virtues hath she many moe
Than I with pen have skill to show.
I could rehearse, if that I would,
The whole effect of Nature's plaint,
When she had lost the perfect mould,
The like to whom she could not paint.
With wringing hands, how she did cry,
And what she said, I know it, I.
I know she swore with raging mind,
Her kingdom only set apart,
There was no loss by law of kind
That could have gone so near her heart,
And this was chiefly all her pain;
'She could not make the like again.'
Sith Nature thus gave her the praise,
To be the chiefest work she wrought;
In faith, methink! some better ways
On your behalf might well be sought,
Than to compare, as ye have done,
To match the candle with the sun.
SK me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For in your beauty's orient deep
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.
Ask me no more whither do stray
The golden atoms of the day;
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.
Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past;
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters and keeps warm her note.
Ask me no more where those stars light
That downwards fall in dead of night;
For in your eyes they sit, and there
Fixed become as in their sphere.
Ask me no more if east or west
The Phoenix builds her spicy nest;
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.
Go, Lovely Rose
O, lovely Rose —
Tell her that wastes her time and me,
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.
Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retired:
Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desired,
And not blush so to be admired.
Then die that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee;
How small a part of time they share
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
231. My Lady's Presence Makes the Roses
Y Lady's presence makes the Roses red,
Because to see her lips they blush for shame.
The Lily's leaves, for envy, pale became
For her white hands in them this envy bred.
The Marigold the leaves abroad doth spread,
Because the sun's and her power is the same.
The Violet of purple colour came,
Dyed in the blood she made my heart to shed.
In brief all flowers from her their virtue take;
From her sweet breath, their sweet smells do proceed;
The living heat which her eyebeams doth make
Warmeth the ground, and quickeneth the seed.
The rain, wherewith she watereth the flowers,
Falls from mine eyes, which she dissolves in showers.
H. Constable
On Quicksedge, Wrought with
Lovely Eglantine
ON quicksedge, wrought with lovely eglantine,
My Laura laid her handkercher to dry;
Which had before snow-white ywashed been.
But, after, when she called to memory,
That long 'twould be before, and very late,
Ere sun could do, as would her glist'ring eyes: She cast from them such sparkling glances straight, And with such force, in such a strangy guise,
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