When in the hold, whereas the Twins do rest,
Proud Phlegon, breathing fire, doth post amain,
The trees with leaves, the earth with flowers is dressed;
When I in pride of years, with peevish brain,
Presumed too far, and made fond love my guest,
With frosts of care my flowers were nipt amain
In height of weal who bears a careless heart,
Repents too late his over-foolish part.
When in æstival Cancer's gloomy bower,
The greater glory of the heavens doth shine,
The air is calm, the birds at every stowre
Do tempt the heavens with harmony divine:
When I was first enthralled in Cupid's power,
In vain I spent the May-month of my time,
Singing for joy to see me captive thrall
To him, whose gains are grief, whose comfort small.
When in the height of his meridian walk,
The Lion's hold contains the eye of day,
The riping corn grows yellow in the stalk:
When strength of years did bless me every way,
Masked with delights of folly was my talk,
Youth ripened all my thoughts to my decay;
In lust I sowed, my fruit was loss of time;
My hopes were proud, and yet my body slime.*
When in the Virgin's lap earth's comfort sleeps,
Bating the fury of his burning eyes,
Both corn and fruits are firmed, and comfort creeps
On every plant and flower that springing rise:
When age at last his chief dominion keeps,
And leads me on to see my vanities,
What love and scant foresight did make me sow,
In youthful years is ripened now in woe.
When in the Balance Daphne's leman blins,
The ploughman gathereth fruit for passed pain: When I at last considered on my sins,
And thought upon my youth and follies vain, I cast my count, and reason now begins
To guide mine eyes with judgment, bought with pain, Which weeping wish a better way to find,
Or else for ever to the world be blind.
When with the Scorpion proud Apollo plays,
The vines are trod and carried to their press,
The woods are felled 'gainst winter's sharp affrays:
When graver years my judgments did address,
I 'gan repair my ruins and decays,
Exchanging will to wit and soothfastness,
Claiming from time and age no good but this,
To see my sin, and sorrow for my miss.
Whenas the Archer in his winter hold,
The Delian harper tunes his wonted love, The ploughman sows and tills his laboured mould: When with advice and judgment I approve How love in youth hath grief for gladness sold, The seeds of shame I from my heart remove, And in their steads I set down plants of grace, And with repent bewailed my youthful race.
When he that in Eurotas' silver glide
Doth bain his tress, beholdeth Capricorn, The days grow short, then hastes the winter tide; The sun with sparing lights doth seem to mourn; Gray is the green, the flowers their beauty hide: Whenas I see that I to death was born,
My strength decayed, my grave already dressed,
I count my life my loss, my death my best.
When with Aquarius Phoebe's brother stays,
The blithe and wanton winds are whist and still;
Cold frost and snow the pride of earth betrays:
When age my head with hoary hairs doth fill,
Reason sits down, and bids me count my days,
And pray for peace, and blame my froward will;
In depth of grief, in this distress I cry,
Peccavi, Domine, miserere mei!
When in the Fishes' mansion Phoebus dwells,
The days renew, the earth regains his rest:
When old in years, my want my death foretells,
My thoughts and prayers to heaven are whole ad-
Repentance youth by folly quite expels; [dressed;
I long to be dissolvèd for my best,
That young in zeal, long beaten with my rod, may grow old to wisdom and to God.
FROM THE MOURNING GARMENT.*
THE DESCRIPTION OF THE SHEPHERD AND
T was near a thicky shade,
That broad leaves of beech had made,
Joining all their tops so nigh,
That scarce Phoebus in could pry,
• Greene's Mourning Garment: given him by Repentance at the funerals of Love; which he presents for a favour to all young gentlemen that wish to wean themselves from wanton desires. pleasant and profitable. By R. Greene. Utriusque Academiæ in Artibus Magister. Sero sed serio.
To see if lovers in the thick
Could dally with a wanton trick ;
Where sat the swain and his wife,
Sporting in that pleasing life,
That Coridon commendeth so,
All other lives to overgo.
He and she did sit and keep
Flocks of kids and folds of sheep:
He upon his pipe did play;
She tuned voice unto his lay,
And, for you might her huswife know,
Voice did sing and fingers sew.
He was young: his coat was green,
With welts of white seamed between,
Turned over with a flap,
That breast and bosom in did wrap.
Skirts side and plighted free,
Seemly hanging to his knee:
A whittle with a silver chape:
Cloak was russet, and the cape
Served for a bonnet oft
To shrowd him from the wet aloft:
A leather scrip of colour red,
With a button on the head.
A bottle full of country whig*
By the shepherd's side did lig;
And in a little bush hard by,
There the shepherd's dog did lie,
Who, while his master 'gan to sleep,
Well could watch both kids and sheep.
The shepherd was a frolic swain;
For though his 'parel was but plain,
Yet doon the authors soothly say,
His colour was both fresh and gay,
And in their writs plain discuss,
Fairer was not Tityrus,
• Whey, according to some authorities; according to others, butter. milk.
Nor Menalcas, whom they call
The alderliefest swain of all.
Seeming him was his wife,
Both in line and in life:
Fair she was as fair might be,
Like the roses on the tree;
Buxom, blithe, and young, I ween,
Beauteous like a summer's queen,
For her cheeks were ruddy-hued,
As if lilies were imbrued
With drops of blood, to make the white
Please the eye with more delight:
Love did lie within her eyes
In ambush for some wanton prize.
A liefer lass than this had been
Coridon had never seen,
Nor was Phillis, that fair may,
Half so gaudy or so gay.
She wore a chaplet on her head;
Her cassock was of scarlet red,
Long and large, as straight as bent:
Her middle was both small and gent;
A neck as white as whale's bone,
Compassed with a lace of stone.
Fine she was, and fair she was,
Brighter than the brightest glass;
Such a shepherd's wife as she
Was not more in Thessaly.
THE SHEPHERD'S WIFE'S SONG.
H, what is love? It is a pretty thing,
As sweet unto a shepherd as a king;
And sweeter too,
For kings have cares that wait upon a crown,
And cares can make the sweetest love to frown:
Ah then, ah then,
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