Lyrics from the Song-Books of the Elizabethan Age Part 22

Pity that to thy beauty fled, And with thy beauty should have lived, Ah, in thy heart lies buried, And nevermore may be revived; Yet this last favour, dear, extend, To accept these vows, these tears I shed, Duties which I thy pilgrim send, To beauty living, pity dead.

From THOMAS WEELKES' _Airs or Fantastic Spirits_, 1608.

Upon a hill the bonny boy Sweet Thyrsis sweetly played, And called his lambs their master's joy, And more he would have said; But love that gives the lover wings Withdrew his mind from other things.

His pipe and he could not agree, For Milla was his note; The silly pipe could never get This lovely name by rote: With that they both fell in a sound,[22]

He fell a-sleep, his pipe to ground.

[22] Swoon.

From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589.

Upon a summer's day Love went to swim, And cast himself into a sea of tears; The clouds called in their light, and heaven waxed dim, And sighs did raise a tempest, causing fears; The naked boy could not so wield his arms, But that the waves were masters of his might, And threatened him to work far greater harms If he devised not to scape by flight: Then for a boat his quiver stood instead, His bow unbent did serve him for a mast, Whereby to sail his cloth of veil he spread, His shafts for oars on either board he cast: From s.h.i.+pwreck safe this wag got thus to sh.o.r.e, And sware to bathe in lovers' tears no more.

From THOMAS CAMPION's _Second Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613).

Vain men! whose follies make a G.o.d of love; Whose blindness, beauty doth immortal deem, Praise not what you desire, but what you prove; Count those things good that are, not those that seem.

I cannot call her true, that's false to me; Nor make of women, more than women be.

How fair an entrance breaks the way to love!

How rich the golden hope, and gay delight!

What heart cannot a modest beauty move?

Who seeing clear day once will dream of night?

She seemed a saint, that brake her faith with me; But proved a woman, as all other be.

So bitter is their sweet that True Content Unhappy men _in_ them may never find: Ah! but _without_ them, none. Both must consent, Else uncouth are the joys of either kind.

Let us then praise their good, forget their ill!

Men must be men, and women women still.

From FRANCIS PILKINGTON's _Second Set of Madrigals_, 1624.

Wake, sleepy Thyrsis, wake For Love and Venus' sake!

Come, let us mount the hills Which Zephyrus with cool breath fills; Or let us tread new alleys, In yonder shady valleys.

Rise, rise, rise, rise!

Lighten thy heavy eyes: See how the streams do glide And the green meads divide: But stream nor fire shall part This and this joined heart.

From _Deuteromelia_, 1609.

We be soldiers three, _Pardona moy je vous an pree_, Lately come forth of the Low Country With never a penny of money.

Fa la la la lantido dilly.

Here, good fellow, I drink to thee, _Pardona moy je vous an pree_, To all good fellows wherever they be, With never a penny of money.

And he that will not pledge me this, _Pardona moy je vous an pree_, Pays for the shot whatever it is, With never a penny of money.

Charge it again, boy, charge it again, _Pardona moy je vous an pree_, As long as there is any ink in thy pen, With never a penny of money.

From _Deuteromelia_, 1609.

We be three poor mariners, Newly come from the seas; We spend our lives in jeopardy While others live at ease.

Shall we go dance the round, the round, Shall we go dance the round?

And he that is a bully boy Come pledge me on this ground!

We care not for those martial men That do our states disdain; But we care for the merchant men Who do our states maintain: To them we dance this round, around, To them we dance this round; And he that is a bully boy Come pledge me on this ground!

From _Egerton MS., 2013_.

We must not part as others do, With sighs and tears, as we were two: Though with these outward forms we part, We keep each other in our heart.

What search hath found a being, where I am not, if that thou be there?

True love hath wings, and can as soon Survey the world as sun and moon, And everywhere our triumphs keep O'er absence which makes others weep: By which alone a power is given To live on earth, as they in heaven.

From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals to Five Voices_, 1598.

We shepherds sing, we pipe, we play, With pretty sport we pa.s.s the day: Fa la!

We care for no gold, But with our fold We dance And prance As pleasure would.

Fa la!

From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Songs, and Sonnets_, 1611.

Wedded to will is witless, And seldom he is skilful That bears the name of wise and yet is wilful.

To govern he is fitless That deals not by election, But by his fond affection.

O that it might be treason For men to rule by will and not by reason.

From THOMAS TOMKINS' _Songs of Three, Four, Five, and Six Parts_, 1622.

Weep no more, thou sorry boy; Love's pleased and anger'd with a toy.

Love a thousand pa.s.sion brings, Laughs and weeps, and sighs and sings.

If _she_ smiles, he dancing goes, And thinks not on his future woes: If _she_ chide with angry eye, Sits down, and sighs "Ah me, I die!"

Yet again, as soon revived, Joys as much as late he grieved.

Change there is of joy and sadness, Sorrow much, but more of gladness.

Then weep no more, thou sorry boy, Turn thy tears to weeping joy.

Sigh no more "Ah me! I die!"

But dance, and sing, and ti-hy cry.

From JOHN ROWLAND's _Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs_, 1603.

Weep you no more, sad fountains; What need you flow so fast?