Lyrics from the Song-Books of the Elizabethan Age - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Pari jugo dulcis tractus.
For where chaste love and liking sets the plant, And concord waters with a firm good-will, Of no good thing there can be any want.
Pari jugo dulcis tractus.
Sound is the knot that Chast.i.ty hath tied, Sweet is the music Unity doth make, Sure is the store that Plenty doth provide.
Pari jugo dulcis tractus.
Where Chasteness fails there Concord will decay, Where Concord fleets there Plenty will decease, Where Plenty wants there Love will wear away.
Pari jugo dulcis tractus.
I, Chast.i.ty, restrain all strange desires; I, Concord, keep the course of sound consent; I, Plenty, spare and spend as cause requires.
Pari jugo dulcis tractus.
Make much of us, all ye that married be; Speak well of us, all ye that mind to be; The time may come to want and wish all three.
Pari jugo dulcis tractus.
From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589.
The Nightingale so pleasant and so gay In greenwood groves delights to make his dwelling, In fields to fly, chanting his roundelay, At liberty, against the cage rebelling; But my poor heart with sorrows over swelling, Through bondage vile, binding my freedom short, No pleasure takes in these his sports excelling, Nor in his song receiveth no comfort.
From THOMAS BATESON's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1604. (By Sir Philip Sidney.)
The Nightingale, so soon as April bringeth Unto her rested sense a perfect waking, White late-bare earth proud of her clothing springeth, Sings out her woes, a thorn her songbook making; And mournfully bewailing, Her throat in tunes expresseth: While grief her heart oppresseth, For Tereus' force o'er her chaste will prevailing.
From THOMAS CAMPION's _Second Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613).
The peaceful western wind The winter storms hath tamed, And Nature in each kind The kind heat hath inflamed: The forward buds so sweetly breathe Out of their earthly bowers, That heaven, which views their pomp beneath, Would fain be decked with flowers.
See how the morning smiles On her bright eastern hill, And with soft steps beguiles Them that lie slumbering still!
The music-loving birds are come From cliffs and rocks unknown, To see the trees and briars bloom That late were overthrown.[17]
What Saturn did destroy, Love's Queen revives again; And now her naked boy Doth in the fields remain, Where he such pleasing change doth view In every living thing, As if the world were born anew To gratify the spring.
If all things life present, Why die my comforts then?
Why suffers my content?
Am I the worst of men?
O, Beauty, be not thou accused Too justly in this case!
Unkindly if true love be used, 'Twill yield thee little grace.
[17] Old ed. "overflown."
From THOMAS CAMPION's _Fourth Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613).
There is a garden in her face Where roses and white lilies grow; A heavenly paradise is that place Wherein all pleasant fruits doth flow.
There cherries grow which none may buy, Till "Cherry ripe" themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose Of orient pearl a double row, Which when her lovely laughter shows, They look like rose-buds filled with snow; Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy, Till "Cherry ripe" themselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch them still, Her brows like bended bows do stand, Threatening with piercing frowns to kill All that attempt with eye or hand Those sacred cherries to come nigh Till "Cherry ripe" themselves do cry.
From THOMAS FORD's _Music of Sundry Kinds_, 1607.
There is a Lady sweet and kind, Was never face so pleased my mind; I did but see her pa.s.sing by, And yet I love her till I die.
Her gesture, motion and her smiles Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles, Beguiles my heart, I know not why, And yet I love her till I die.
Her free behaviour, winning looks Will make a Lawyer burn his books; I touched her not, alas! not I, And yet I love her till I die.
Had I her fast betwixt mine arms, Judge you that think such sports were harms; Were't any harm? no, no, fie, fie, For I will love her till I die.
Should I remain confined there So long as Ph[oe]bus in his sphere, I to request, she to deny, Yet would I love her till I die.
Cupid is winged and doth range, Her country so my love doth change: But change she earth, or change she sky, Yet will I love her till I die.
From _Melismata_, 1611.
There were three Ravens sat on a tree,-- Down-a-down, hey down, hey down!
There were three Ravens sat on a tree,-- With a down!
There were three Ravens sat on a tree,-- They were as black as they might be: With a down, derry derry derry down down!
The one of them said to his make[18]-- Where shall we our breakfast take?
Down in yonder greene field There lies a knight slain under his s.h.i.+eld.
His hounds they lie down at his feet: So well they their master keep.
His hawks they fly so eagerly, There's no fowl dare him come nigh.
Down there comes a fallow doe, Great with young as she might go.
She lift up his b.l.o.o.d.y head, And kist his wounds that were so red.
She gat him upon her back And carried him to earthen lake.
She buried him before the prime; She was dead ere even-time.
G.o.d send every gentleman Such hounds, such hawks, and such a leman!
With a down, derry.
[18] Old ed. "mate"; but "make," which is required for the rhyme, was a recognised form of "mate."
