By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers and a kirtle,
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair linéd 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.

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.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

[1552-1618.]

THE NYMPH'S REPLY.

IF all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee, and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb,
The rest complain of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields;
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.

THE PILGRIM.

GIVE me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon;
My scrip of joy, immortal diet;
My bottle of salvation;

My gown of glory (hope's true gauge),
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
Blood must be my body's 'balmer,
Whilst my soul, a quiet Palmer,
Travelleth towards the land of Heaven;
No other balm will there be given.
Over the silver mountains,
Where spring the nectar fountains,
There will I kiss the bowl of bliss,
And drink mine everlasting fill
Upon every milken hill;
My soul will be a-dry before,
But after, it will thirst no more.
Then, by that happy, blissful day,

More peaceful pilgrims I shall see, That have cast off their rags of clay, And walk apparelled fresh, like me.

THE SOUL'S ERRAND.

Go, soul, the body's guest,
Upon a thankless errand!
Fear not to touch the best,
The truth shall be thy warrant:
Go, since I needs must die,
And give the world the lie.

Go, tell the court it glows,

And shines like rotten wood; Go, tell the church it shows What's good, and doth no good: If church and court reply, Then give thein both the lie.

Tell potentates they live

Acting by others' actions;
Not loved unless they give,
Not strong but by their factions:
If potentates reply,
Give potentates the lie.

Tell men of high condition
That rule affairs of state,

bed;

A chamber deaf to noise and blind to

A poet's brain with finer store.

7

He wrote of love with high conceit And beauty reared above her height.

spite

Of grudging foes, ne favor seek of friends; But in the stay of her own steadfast might, Neither to one herself or other bends. Most happy she that most assured doth rest,

Sing, ye sweet angels! Alleluia sing, That all the woods may answer, and your echo ring.

UNA AND THE LION.

best.

FROM THE EPITHALAMIUM. OPEN the temple-gates unto my love. Open them wide that she may enter in, And all the posts adorn as doth behove, And all the pillars deck with garlands trim,

For to receive this saint with honor due, That cometh in to you.

With trembling steps and humble rev

erence

She cometh in before the Almighty's view: Of her, ye virgins! learn obedience, When so ye come into these holy places, To humble your proud faces.

Bring her up to the high altar, that she

may

The sacred ceremonies there partake,
The which do endless matrimony make;
And let the roaring organs loudly play
The praises of the Lord, in lively notes,

The whiles with hollow throats
The choristers the joyous anthems sing,
That all the woods may answer, and
their echo ring.

Behold whiles she before the altar stands,
Hearing the holy priest that to her speaks,
And blesses her with his two happy hands,
How red the roses flush up in her cheeks!
And the pure snow, with goodly vermeil
stain,

Like crimson dyed in grain,
That even the angels, which continually
About the sacred altar do remain,
Forget their service, and about her fly,
Oft peeping in her face, that seems more
fair

The more they on it stare;

But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground,

Are governed with goodly modesty,
That suffers not one look to glance awry,
Which may let in a little thought un-
sound.

Why blush ye, Love! to give to me your hand,

From her unhasty beast she did alight;
And on the grass her dainty limbs did lay
In secret shadow, far from all men's sight;
From her fair head her fillet she undight,
And laid her stole aside : her angel's face,
As the great eye of heaven, shined bright,
And made a sunshine in a shady place;
Did never mortal eye behold such heav-
enly grace.

It fortunéd, out of the thickest wood,
A ramping lion rushéd suddenly,
Hunting full greedy after savage blood;
Soon as the royal virgin he did spy,
With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,
To have at once devoured her tender corse;
But to the prey when as he drew more
nigh,

His bloody rage assuagéd with remorse, And, with the sight amazed, forgot his furious force.

Instead thereof he kissed her weary feet, And licked her lily hands with fawning tongue,

As he her wrongéd innocence did weet. O how can beauty master the most strong, And simple truth subdue avenging wrong! Whose yielded pride and proud submission,

Still

dreading death, when she had marked long,

Her heart 'gan melt in great compassion, And drizzling tears did shed for pure affection.

THE HOUSE OF RICHES.

THAT house's form within was rude and strong,

Like an huge cave hewn out of rocky clift, From whose rough vault the ragged breaches hung

Embossed with massy gold of glorious gift,

And with rich metal loaded every rift, That heavy ruin they did seem to threat; And over them Arachne high did lift Her cunning web, and spread her subtle net, Enwrapped in foul smoke and clouds more black than jet.

Both roof, and floor, and walls, were all of gold,

But overgrown with dust and old decay,

And hid in darkness, that none could behold

The hue thereof: for view of cheerful day

Did never in that house itself display,. But a faint shadow of uncertain light; Such as a lamp whose life does fade away; Or as the Moon, clothed with cloudy night,

Does show to him that walks in fear and sad affright.

In all that room was nothing to be seen But huge great iron chests, and coffers

strong,

All barred with double bends, that none could ween

Them to enforce by violence or wrong; On every side they placed were along. But all the ground with sculls was scatteréd

And dead men's bones, which round about were flung;

Whose lives, seeméd, whilome there were shed,

And their vile carcasses now left unburiéd.

THE BOWER OF BLISS.

THERE the most dainty paradise on ground
Itself doth offer to his sober eye,
In which all pleasures plenteously
abound,

And none does others' happiness envy;

9