1. SPRING.

     Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;
     Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
     Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
     Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

     The palm and may make country houses gay,
     Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
     And we hear aye birds tune their merry lay,
       Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

     The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
     Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
     In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
       Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
          Spring, the sweet Spring!

     T. NASH.




     2. SUMMONS TO LOVE.

     Phoebus, arise!
     And paint the sable skies
     With azure, white, and red:
     Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed
     That she may thy career with roses spread:
     The nightingales thy coming eachwhere sing:
     Make an eternal spring!
     Give life to this dark world which lieth dead;
     Spread forth thy golden hair
     In larger locks than thou wast wont before,
     And emperor-like decore
     With diadem of pearl thy temples fair:
     Chase hence the ugly night
     Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light.

     --This is that happy morn,
     That day, long wishéd day
     Of all my life so dark,
     (If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn
     And fates not hope betray),
     Which, purely white, deserves
     An everlasting diamond should it mark.
     This is the morn should bring unto this grove
     My Love, to hear and recompense my love.
     Fair King, who all preserves,
     But show thy blushing beams,
     And thou two sweeter eyes
     Shalt see than those which by Penéus' streams
     Did once thy heart surprize.
     Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest guise:
     If that ye winds would hear
     A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre,
     Your furious chiding stay;
     Let Zephyr only breathe
     And with her tresses play.
     --The winds all silent are,
     And Phoebus in his chair
     Ensaffroning sea and air
     Makes vanish every star:
     Night like a drunkard reels
     Beyond the hills, to shun his flaming wheels:
     The fields with flowers are deck'd in every hue,
     The clouds with orient gold spangle their blue;
     Here is the pleasant place--
     And nothing wanting is, save She, alas.

     WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN.




     3. TIME AND LOVE.

     When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced
     The rich proud cost of out-worn buried age;
     When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed,
     And brass eternal slave to mortal rage.

     When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
     Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,
     And the firm soil win of the watery main,
     Increasing store with loss, and loss with store.

     When I have seen such interchange of state,
     Or state itself confounded to decay,
     Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate--
     That Time will come and take my Love away.

     --This thought is as a death, which cannot choose
     But weep to have that which it fears to lose.

     W. SHAKESPEARE.




     4.

     Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
     But sad mortality o'ersways their power,
     How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
     Whose action is no stronger than a flower?

     O how shall summer's honey breath hold out,
     Against the wreckful siege of battering days,
     When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
     Nor gates of steel so strong but time decays?

     O fearful meditation, where, alack!
     Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?
     Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back,
     Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?

     O! none, unless this miracle have might,
     That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

     W. SHAKESPEARE.




     5. THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.

     Come live with me and be my Love,
     And we will all the pleasures prove
     That hills and valleys, dale and field,
     And all the craggy mountains yield.

     There will we sit upon the rocks
     And see the shepherds feed their flocks
     By shallow rivers, to whose falls
     Melodious birds sing madrigals.

     There will I make thee beds of roses
     And a thousand fragrant posies,
     A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
     Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.

     A gown made of the finest wool,
     Which from our pretty lambs we pull,
     Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
     With buckles of the purest gold.

     A belt of straw and ivy-buds
     With coral clasps and amber studs:
     And if these pleasures may thee move,
     Come live with me and be my Love.

     Thy silver dishes for thy meat
     As precious as the gods do eat,
     Shall on an ivory table be
     Prepared each day for thee and me.

     The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
     For thy delight each May-morning:
     If these delights thy mind may move,
     Then live with me and be my Love.

     C. MARLOWE.




     6. A MADRIGAL.

       Crabbed Age and Youth
       Cannot live together:
       Youth is full of pleasance,
       Age is full of care;
       Youth like summer morn,
       Age like winter weather;
       Youth like summer brave,
       Age like winter bare:
       Youth is full of sport,
       Age's breath is short,
       Youth is nimble, Age is lame:
       Youth is hot and bold,
       Age is weak and cold;
       Youth is wild, and Age is tame:--
       Age, I do abhor thee,
       Youth, I do adore thee;
       O! my Love, my Love is young!
       Age, I do defy thee--
       O, sweet shepherd, hie thee,
       For methinks thou stay'st too long.

     W. SHAKESPEARE.




     7.

       Under the greenwood tree
       Who loves to lie with me,
       And tune his merry note
       Unto the sweet bird's throat--
     Come hither, come hither, come hither!
          Here shall we see
          No enemy
     But winter and rough weather.

       Who doth ambition shun
       And loves to live i' the sun,
       Seeking the food he eats
       And pleased with what he gets--
     Come hither, come hither, come hither!
          Here shall he see
          No enemy
     But winter and rough weather.

     W. SHAKESPEARE.




     8.

     It was a lover and his lass
       With a hey, and a ho, and a hey-nonino!
     That o'er the green cornfield did pass,
     In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
     When birds do sing hey ding a ding:
       Sweet lovers love the Spring.
     Between the acres of the rye
     These pretty country folks would lie:
     This carol they began that hour,
     How that life was but a flower:
     And therefore take the present time
       With a hey, and a ho, and a hey-nonino!
     For love is crownéd with the prime
     In spring time, the only pretty ring time,
     When birds do sing, hey ding a ding;
       Sweet lovers love the Spring.

     W. SHAKESPEARE.




     9. PRESENT IN ABSENCE.

     Absence, hear thou my protestation
          Against thy strength,
          Distance, and length:
     Do what thou canst for alteration:
       For hearts of truest mettle
     Absence doth join, and Time doth settle.

     Who loves a mistress of such quality,
          He soon hath found
          Affection's ground
     Beyond time, place, and all mortality.
       To hearts that cannot vary
     Absence is Presence, Time doth tarry.

     By absence this good means I gain,
          That I can catch her,
          Where none can watch her,
     In some close corner of my brain:
       There I embrace and kiss her,
     And so I both enjoy and miss her.

     ANON.




     10. ABSENCE.

     Being your slave what should I do but tend
     Upon the hours and times of your desire?
     I have no precious time at all to spend,
     Nor services to do, till you require:

     Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour
     Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
     Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
     When you have bid your servant once adieu:

     Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
     Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
     But like a sad slave, stay and think of nought
     Save where you are, how happy you make those;--

     So true a fool is love, that in your will,
     Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.

     W. SHAKESPEARE.




     11.

     How like a winter hath my absence been
     From Thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
     What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen,
     What old December's bareness everywhere!

     And yet this time removed was summer's time:
     The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
     Bearing the wanton burden of the prime
     Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease:

     Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me
     But hope of orphans, and unfather'd fruit;
     For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
     And, thou away, the very birds are mute;

     Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer,
     That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.

     W. SHAKESPEARE.




     12. A CONSOLATION.

     When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes
     I all alone beweep my outcast state,
     And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
     And look upon myself, and curse my fate;

     Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
     Featured like him, like him with friends possest,
     Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
     With what I most enjoy contented least;

     Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
     Haply I think on Thee--and then my state,
     Like to the lark at break of day arising
     From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;

     For thy sweet love remember'd, such wealth brings
     That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

     W. SHAKESPEARE.




     13. THE UNCHANGEABLE.

     O never say that I was false of heart,
     Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify:
     As easy might I from my self depart
     As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie;

     That is my home of love, if I have ranged,
     Like him that travels, I return again,
     Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
     So that myself bring water for my stain.

     Never believe, though in my nature reign'd
     All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
     That it could so preposterously be stain'd
     To leave for nothing all thy sum of good:

     For nothing this wide universe I call,
     Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.

     W. SHAKESPEARE.




     14.

     To me, fair Friend, you never can be old,
     For as you were when first your eye I eyed
     Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
     Have from the forests shook three summers' pride;

     Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd,
     In process of the seasons have I seen,
     Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,
     Since first I saw you fresh which yet are green.

     Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial hand,
     Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;
     So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
     Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived:

     For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred,--
     Ere you were born, was beauty's summer dead.

     W. SHAKESPEARE.




     15. DIAPHENIA.

        Diaphenia like the daffadowndilly,
        White as the sun, fair as the lily,
      Heigh ho, how do I love thee!
        I do love thee as my lambs
        Are belovéd of their dams;
     How blest were I if thou would'st prove me.

        Diaphenia like the spreading roses,
        That in thy sweets all sweets encloses,
      Fair sweet, how do I love thee!
        I do love thee as each flower
        Loves the sun's life-giving power;
     For dead, thy breath to life might move me.

        Diaphenia like to all things blesséd
        When all thy praises are expresséd,
      Dear joy, how do I love thee!
        As the birds do love the spring,
        Or the bees their careful king:
     Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me!

     H. CONSTABLE.




     16. ROSALINE.

     Like to the clear in highest sphere
     Where all imperial glory shines,
     Of selfsame colour is her hair
     Whether unfolded, or in twines:
      Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!
     Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,
     Resembling heaven by every wink;
     The Gods do fear whenas they glow,
     And I do tremble when I think
      Heigh ho, would she were mine!

     Her cheeks are like the blushing 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 which 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 breasts 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 in touch and sweet in view:
      Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!
     Nature herself her shape admires;
     The Gods 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 God that she were mine!

     T. LODGE.




     17. COLIN.

     Beauty sat bathing by a spring
      Where fairest shades did hide her;
     The winds blew calm, the birds did sing,
      The cool streams ran beside her.

     My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye
      To see what was forbidden:
     But better memory said, fie!
      So vain desire was chidden:--
          Hey nonny nonny O!
          Hey nonny nonny!

     Into a slumber then I fell,
     When fond imagination
     Seeméd to see, but could not tell
     Her feature or her fashion.
     But ev'n as babes in dreams do smile,
     And sometimes fall a-weeping,
     So I awaked as wise this while
     As when I fell a-sleeping:--
          Hey nonny nonny O!
          Hey nonny nonny!