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Bulchevy's Book of English Verse Part 21

Bulchevy's Book of English Verse - LightNovelsOnl.com

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Her cheeks are like the blus.h.i.+ng cloud That beautifies Aurora's face, Or like the silver crimson shroud That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace.

Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!

Her lips are like two budded roses Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh, Within whose bounds she balm encloses Apt to entice a deity: Heigh ho, would she were mine!

Her neck like to a stately tower Where Love himself imprison'd lies, To watch for glances every hour From her divine and sacred eyes: Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!

Her paps are centres of delight, Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s are orbs of heavenly frame, Where Nature moulds the dew of light To feed perfection with the same: Heigh ho, would she were mine!



With orient pearl, with ruby red, With marble white, with sapphire blue, Her body every way is fed, Yet soft to touch and sweet in view: Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!

Nature herself her shape admires; The G.o.ds are wounded in her sight; And Love forsakes his heavenly fires And at her eyes his brand doth light: Heigh ho, would she were mine!

Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan The absence of fair Rosaline, Since for a fair there 's fairer none, Nor for her virtues so divine: Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!

Heigh ho, my heart! would G.o.d that she were mine!

George Peele. 1558?-97

101. Fair and Fair

Oenone. FAIR and fair, and twice so fair, As fair as any may be; The fairest shepherd on our green, A love for any lady.

Paris. Fair and fair, and twice so fair, As fair as any may be; Thy love is fair for thee alone And for no other lady.

Oenone. My love is fair, my love is gay, As fresh as bin the flowers in May And of my love my roundelay, My merry, merry, merry roundelay, Concludes with Cupid's curse,-- 'They that do change old love for new Pray G.o.ds they change for worse!'

Ambo Simul. They that do change old love for new, Pray G.o.ds they change for worse!

Oenone. Fair and fair, etc.

Paris. Fair and fair, etc.

Thy love is fair, etc.

Oenone. My love can pipe, my love can sing, My love can many a pretty thing, And of his lovely praises ring My merry, merry, merry roundelays Amen to Cupid's curse,-- 'They that do change,' etc.

Paris. They that do change, etc.

Ambo. Fair and fair, etc.

George Peele. 1558?-97

102. A Farewell to Arms (To Queen Elizabeth)

HIS golden locks Time hath to silver turn'd; O Time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing!

His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurn'd, But spurn'd in vain; youth waneth by increasing: Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen; Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green.

His helmet now shall make a hive for bees; And, lovers' sonnets turn'd to holy psalms, A man-at-arms must now serve on his knees, And feed on prayers, which are Age his alms: But though from court to cottage he depart, His Saint is sure of his unspotted heart.

And when he saddest sits in homely cell, He'll teach his swains this carol for a song,-- 'Blest be the hearts that wish my sovereign well, Curst be the souls that think her any wrong.'

G.o.ddess, allow this aged man his right To be your beadsman now that was your knight.

Robert Greene. 1560-92

103. Samela

LIKE to Diana in her summer weed, Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye, Goes fair Samela.

Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed When wash'd by Arethusa faint they lie, Is fair Samela.

As fair Aurora in her morning grey, Deck'd with the ruddy glister of her love Is fair Samela; Like lovely Thetis on a calmed day Whenas her brightness Neptune's fancy move, s.h.i.+nes fair Samela.

Her tresses gold, her eyes like gla.s.sy streams, Her teeth are pearl, the b.r.e.a.s.t.s are ivory Of fair Samela; Her cheeks like rose and lily yield forth gleams; Her brows bright arches framed of ebony.

Thus fair Samela Pa.s.seth fair Venus in her bravest hue, And Juno in the show of majesty (For she 's Samela!), Pallas in wit,--all three, if you well view, For beauty, wit, and matchless dignity, Yield to Samela.

Robert Greene. 1560-92

104. Fawnia

AH! were she pitiful as she is fair, Or but as mild as she is seeming so, Then were my hopes greater than my despair, Then all the world were heaven, nothing woe.

Ah! were her heart relenting as her hand, That seems to melt even with the mildest touch, Then knew I where to seat me in a land Under wide heavens, but yet there is not such.

So as she shows she seems the budding rose, Yet sweeter far than is an earthly flower; Sovran of beauty, like the spray she grows; Compa.s.s'd she is with thorns and canker'd flower.

Yet were she willing to be pluck'd and worn, She would be gather'd, though she grew on thorn.

Ah! when she sings, all music else be still, For none must be compared to her note; Ne'er breathed such glee from Philomela's bill, Nor from the morning-singer's swelling throat.

Ah! when she riseth from her blissful bed She comforts all the world as doth the sun, And at her sight the night's foul vapour 's fled; When she is set the gladsome day is done.

O glorious sun, imagine me the west, s.h.i.+ne in my arms, and set thou in my breast!

Robert Greene. 1560-92

105. Sephestia's Lullaby

WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee.

Mother's wag, pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy; When thy father first did see Such a boy by him and me, He was glad, I was woe; Fortune changed made him so, When he left his pretty boy, Last his sorrow, first his joy.

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee.

Streaming tears that never stint, Like pearl-drops from a flint, Fell by course from his eyes, That one another's place supplies; Thus he grieved in every part, Tears of blood fell from his heart, When he left his pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy.

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee.

The wanton smiled, father wept, Mother cried, baby leapt; More he crow'd, more we cried, Nature could not sorrow hide: He must go, he must kiss Child and mother, baby bliss, For he left his pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy.

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee.

Alexander Hume. 1560-1609

106. A Summer Day

O PERFECT Light, which shaid away The darkness from the light, And set a ruler o'er the day, Another o'er the night--

Thy glory, when the day forth flies, More vively doth appear Than at mid day unto our eyes The s.h.i.+ning sun is clear.

The shadow of the earth anon Removes and drawis by, While in the East, when it is gone, Appears a clearer sky.

Which soon perceive the little larks, The lapwing and the snipe, And tune their songs, like Nature's clerks, O'er meadow, muir, and stripe.

Our hemisphere is polisht clean, And lighten'd more and more, While everything is clearly seen Which seemit dim before:

Except the glistering astres bright, Which all the night were clear, Offuskit with a greater light No longer do appear.

The golden globe incontinent Sets up his s.h.i.+ning head, And o'er the earth and firmament Displays his beams abread.

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