From Chaucer to Tennyson - LightNovelsOnl.com
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"Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,[84]
And I'll pick out his bonny blue een; Wi' ae[85] lock o' his gowden hair, We'll theck[86] our nest when it grows bare.
"Mony a one for him makes mane, But nane sail ken where he is gane; O'er his white banes, when they are bare, The wind sail blow for evermair."
BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL.
Hie upon Highlands and low upon Tay, Bonnie George Campbell rade out on a day.
Saddled and bridled and gallant rade he; Hame cam' his horse, but never cam' he.
Out came his auld mother, greeting[87] fu' sair; And out cam' his bonnie bride, riving her hair.
Saddled and bridled and booted rade he; Toom[88] hame cam' the saddle, but never cam' he.
"My meadow lies green and my corn is unshorn; My barn is to bigg[89] and my babie's unborn."
Saddled and bridled and booted rade he; Toom cam' the saddle, but never cam' he.
[Footnote 82: The two ravens.]
[Footnote 83: Turf.]
[Footnote 84: Neck-bone.]
[Footnote 85: One.]
[Footnote 86: Thach.]
[Footnote 87: Weeping.]
[Footnote 88: Empty.]
[Footnote 89: Build.]
EDMUND SPENSER.
THE SUITOR'S LIFE.
Full little knowest thou that hast not tride, What h.e.l.l it is in suing long to bide; To lose good days that might be better spent; To wast long nights in pensive discontent: To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow; To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow; To have thy prince's grace, yet want her peere's[90]: To have thy asking, yet waite manie yeers, To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares; To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires: To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne, To spend, to give, to want, to be undone!
THE MUSIC OF THE BOWER OF BLISS.
[From the _Faerie Queene_. Book II. Canto XII.]
Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound, Of all that mote[2] delight a daintie eare, Such as attonce[91] might not on living ground, Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere: Right hard it was for wight which did it heare, To read what manner of music that mote[92] bee; For all that pleasing is to living eare Was there consorted in one harmonee; Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all agree.
The joyous birdes, shrouded in chearefull shade, Their notes unto the voyce attempred sweet; Th' angelicall soft trembling voyces made To th' instruments divine respondence meet; The silver sounding instruments did meet With the base[93] murmure of the waters fall; The waters fall with difference discreet, Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call; The gentle warbling wind low answered to all....
The whiles some one did chaunt this lovely lay; Ah! see, whoso fayre thing doest faine[94] to see, In springing flowre the image of thy day!
Ah! see the virgin rose, how sweetly shee Doth first peepe foorth with bashfull modestee, That fairer seemes the lesse ye see her may!
Lo! see, soone after how more bold and free Her bared bosome she doth broad display; Lo! see, soone after how she fades and falls away.
So pa.s.seth, in the pa.s.sing of a day, Of mortall life the leafe, the bud, the flowre; Ne more doth florish after first decay, That earst[95] was sought to deck both bed and bowre Of many a lady, and many a paramowre!
Gather therefore the rose whilst yet is prime,[96]
For soone comes age that will her pride deflowre: Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time, Whilst loving thou mayst loved be with equall crime.
[Footnote 90: A reference to Lord Burleigh's hostility to the poet]
[Footnote 91: Might.]
[Footnote 92: At once.]
[Footnote 93: Ba.s.s.]
THE HOUSE OF SLEEP.
[From the _Faerie Queene_. Book I. Canto I.]
He, making speedy way through spersed ayre, And through the world of waters wide and deepe, To Morpheus' house doth hastily repaire: Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe And low, where dawning day doth never peepe, His dwelling is; there Tethys his wet bed Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe In silver deaw his ever-drouping hed, Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth spred....
And more to lulle him in his slumber soft, A trickling streame from high rock tumbling downe, And ever-drizling raine upon the loft, Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne Of swarming bees, did cast him in a swowne.
No other noyse, nor people's troublous cryes, As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne, Might there be heard; but careless quiet lyes Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enimyes.
[Footnote 94: Rejoice.]
[Footnote 95: First, formerly.]
[Footnote 96: Spring.]
WILLIAM SHAKSPERE.
SONNET XC.
Then hate me when thou wilt: if ever, now: Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, And do not drop in for an after loss.
Ah! do not when my heart hath scaped this sorrow, Come in the rearward of a conquered woe; Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, To linger out a purposed overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, When other petty griefs have done their spite; But in the onset come: So shall I taste At first the very worst of fortune's might; And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so.
SONG.
[From _As You Like It_.]
Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingrat.i.tude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh ho! Sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friends.h.i.+p is feigning, most loving mere folly, Then heigh ho! the holly!
This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky, Thou dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot; Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remembered not.
Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! etc.
