Against the wrackful siege of batt'ring 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? ΙΟ Lest the wise world should look into your moan And mock you with me after I am gone. LXXIII That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Or what strong hand can hold his swift Upon those boughs which shake against 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. LXVI the cold, Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day 5 Tired with all these, for restful death I Death's second self, that seals up all in cry: As, to behold desert a beggar born, be gone, ΙΟ rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, ΙΟ As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourished by. This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long. XCVIII From you have I been absent in the spring, Save that, to die, I leave my love alone. When proud-pied2 April dressed in all his Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, And let that pine to aggravate thy store;10 Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; Within be fed, without be rich no more: So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, And Death once dead, there's no more dying then. ELIZABETHAN SONG WRITERS ANONYMOUS BACK AND SIDE GO BARE, GO BARE Back and side go bare, go bare, Both hand and foot go cold; But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, Whether it be new or old. I cannot eat but little meat, But sure I think that I can drink I am nothing a-cold; I stuff my skin so full within I love no roast but a nutbrown toast, A little bread shall do me stead, No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow, I am so wrapt and throughly lapt And Tib my wife, that as her life Loveth well good ale to seek, Full oft drinks she, till ye may see 5 ΙΟ 15 20 25 Yet still my mind forbids to crave. No princely pomp, no wealthy store, No wily wit to salve a sore, No shape to feed a loving eye; To none of these I yield as thrall: For why? My mind doth serve for all. I see how plenty [surfeits] oft, And hasty climbers soon do fall; I see that those which are aloft Mishap doth threaten most of all; They get with toil, they keep with fear: Such cares my mind could never bear. Content to live, this is my stay; I seek no more than may suffice; I press to bear no haughty sway; Look, what I lack my mind supplies: Lo, thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring. 5 IO 15 20 Some have too much, yet still do crave;25 I little have, and seek no more. I laugh not at another's loss; I grudge not at another's pain; Some weigh their pleasure by their lust, A cloaked craft their store of skill: My wealth is health and perfect ease; My conscience clear my chief defence; I neither seek by bribes to please, Nor by deceit to breed offence: Thus do I live; thus will I die; Would all did so as well as I! SIR PHILIP SIDNEY (1554-1586) LOVE IS DEAD 35 40 45 They are but poor, though much they Let dirge be sung, and trentals rightly read, For Love is dead; Sir Wrong his tomb ordaineth My mistress' marble heart; Which epitaph containeth, 2 frenzy. 25 5 What bird so sings, yet so does wail? I wagered. GEORGE PEELE (1558?-1597?) CUPID'S CURSE ENONE. Fair and fair, and twice so fair, As fair as any may be; The fairest shepherd on our green, A love for any lady. Fair and fair, and twice so fair,5 Thy love is fair for thee alone, CEN. My love is fair, my love is gay, May, And of my love my roundelay, My merry, merry roundelay, Concludes with Cupid's curse, IO "They that do change old love for new, Pray gods they change for worse!" 15 AMBO SIMUL.3 They that do change, etc. EN. Fair and fair, etc. PAR. Fair and fair, etc. Thy love is fair, etc. EN. My love can pipe, my love can sing, My love can1 many a pretty thing, My merry, merry roundelays, "They that do change," etc. PAR. They that do change, etc. AMBO. Fair and fair, etc. 20 25 THOMAS LODGE (1558?-1625) ROSALIND'S MADRIGAL Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet; Now with his wings he plays with me, Within mine eyes he makes his nest, Ah, wanton, will ye? And if I sleep, then percheth he, And makes his pillow of my knee, The livelong night. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string; He lends me every lovely thing; Else I with roses every day Will whip you hence, I'll shut my eyes to keep you in, 5 ΙΟ 15 20 I'll count your power not worth a pin. 25 Alas! what hereby shall I win |