1 Wherefore I joy that you may see They be the lines that lead the length They say my youth is fled with strength, The which I feel, and you may see Such lines upon my head to be. They be the strings of sober sound, Their tunes declare a time from ground I came, arid how thereto I shall : Wherefore I love that you may see God grant to those that white hairs have, Their souls may joy their lives well spent VOL. I. K RICHARD EDWARDS WAS a principal contributor to the Paradise of Dainty Devices, and one of our earliest dramatic authors. He wrote two comedies, one entitled Damon and Pythias, the other Palamon and Arcite, both of which were acted before Queen Elizabeth. Besides his regular dramas he appears to have contrived masques, and to have written verses for pageants; and is described as having been the first fiddle, the most fashionable sonneteer, and the most facetious mimic of the Court. In the beginning of Elizabeth's reign he was one of the gentlemen of her chapel, and master of the children there, having the character of an excellent musician. His pleasing little poem, the Amantium iræ, has been so often reprinted, that, for the sake of variety, I have selected another specimen of his simplicity. HE REQUESTETH SOME FRIENDLY COMFORT, AFFIRMING HIS CONSTANCY. THE mountains high, whose lofty tops do meet the haughty sky; The craggy rock, that to the sea free passage doth deny; The aged oak, that doth resist the force of blustring blast; The pleasant herb, that every where a pleasant smell doth cast; The lion's force, whose courage stout declares a prince-like might; The eagle, that for worthiness is born of kings in Then these, I say, and thousands more, by tract of time decay, And, like to time, do quite consume, and fade from form to clay; But my true heart and service vow'd shall last time out of mind, And still remain as thine by doom, as Cupid hath assigned; My faith, lo here! I vow to thee, my troth thou know'st too well; My goods, my friends, my life, is thine; what need I more to tell? I am not mine, but thine; I vow thy hests I will obey, And serve thee as a servant ought, in pleasing if I may; And sith I have no flying wings, to serve thee as I wish, Ne fins to cut the silver streams, as doth the gliding fish; Wherefore leave now forgetfulness, and send again to me, And strain thy azure veins to write, that I may greeting see. And thus farewell! more dear to me than chiefest friend I have, Whose love in heart I mind to shrine, till Death his fee do crave. WILLIAM HUNNIS WAS a gentleman of Edward the Sixth's chapel, and afterwards master of the boys of Queen Elizabeth's chapel. He translated the Psalms, and was author of a "Hive of Honey, a Handful of Honeysuckle," and other godly works. He died in 1568. In search of things that secret are my mated muse began, What it might be molested most the head and mind of man; The bending brow of prince's face, to wrath that doth attend, Or want of parents, wife, or child, or loss of faithful friend; The roaring of the cannon shot, that makes the piece to shake, Or terror, such as mighty Jove from heaven above can make: All these, in fine, may not compare, experience so doth prove, Unto the torments, sharp and strange, of such as be in love. Love looks aloft, and laughs to scorn all such as griefs annoy, The more extreme their passions be, the greater is his joy; Thus Love, as victor of the field, triumphs above the rest, And joys to see his subjects lie with living death in breast; But dire Disdain lets drive a shaft, and galls this bragging fool, He plucks his plumes, unbends his bow, and sets him new to school; Whereby this boy that bragged late, as conqueror over all, Now yields himself unto Disdain, his vassal and his thrall. |