A Defence of Poesie and Poems [30]
it be, Make but one mind in bodies three.
And as the turtle dove To mate with whom he liveth, Such comfort fervent love Of you to my heart giveth. Join hearts and hands, so let it be, Make but one mind in bodies three.
Now joined be our hands, Let them be ne'er asunder, But link'd in binding bands By metamorphosed wonder. So should our severed bodies three As one for ever joined be.
POEM: DISPRAISE OF A COURTLY LIFE
Walking in bright Phoebus' blaze, Where with heat oppressed I was, I got to a shady wood, Where green leaves did newly bud; And of grass was plenty dwelling, Decked with pied flowers sweetly smelling.
In this wood a man I met, On lamenting wholly set; Ruing change of wonted state, Whence he was transformed late, Once to shepherds' God retaining, Now in servile court remaining.
There he wand'ring malecontent, Up and down perplexed went, Daring not to tell to me, Spake unto a senseless tree, One among the rest electing, These same words, or this affecting:
"My old mates I grieve to see Void of me in field to be, Where we once our lovely sheep Lovingly like friends did keep; Oft each other's friendship proving, Never striving, but in loving.
"But may love abiding be In poor shepherds' base degree? It belongs to such alone To whom art of love is known: Seely shepherds are not witting What in art of love is fitting.
"Nay, what need the art to those To whom we our love disclose? It is to be used then, When we do but flatter men: Friendship true, in heart assured, Is by Nature's gifts procured.
"Therefore shepherds, wanting skill, Can Love's duties best fulfil; Since they know not how to feign, Nor with love to cloak disdain, Like the wiser sort, whose learning Hides their inward will of harming.
"Well was I, while under shade Oaten reeds me music made, Striving with my mates in song; Mixing mirth our songs among. Greater was the shepherd's treasure Than this false, fine, courtly pleasure.
"Where how many creatures be, So many puffed in mind I see; Like to Juno's birds of pride, Scarce each other can abide: Friends like to black swans appearing, Sooner these than those in hearing.
"Therefore, Pan, if thou may'st be Made to listen unto me, Grant, I say, if seely man May make treaty to god Pan, That I, without thy denying, May be still to thee relying.
"Only for my two loves' sake, In whose love I pleasure take; Only two do me delight With their ever-pleasing sight; Of all men to thee retaining, Grant me with those two remaining.
"So shall I to thee always With my reeds sound mighty praise: And first lamb that shall befall, Yearly deck thine altar shall, If it please thee to be reflected, And I from thee not rejected."
So I left him in that place, Taking pity on his case; Learning this among the rest, That the mean estate is best; Better filled with contenting, Void of wishing and repenting.
POEM: DIRGE
Ring out your bells, let mourning shows be spread, For Love is dead: All Love is dead, infected With plague of deep disdain: Worth, as nought worth, rejected, And faith fair scorn doth gain. From so ungrateful fancy; From such a female frenzy; From them that use men thus, Good Lord, deliver us.
Weep, neighbours, weep, do you not hear it said That Love is dead: His death-bed, peacock's folly: His winding-sheet is shame; His will, false-seeming holy, His sole executor, blame. From so ungrateful fancy; From such a female frenzy; From them that use men thus, Good Lord, deliver us.
Let dirge be sung, and trentals rightly read, For Love is dead: Sir Wrong his tomb ordaineth My mistress' marble heart; Which epitaph containeth, "Her eyes were once his dart." From so ungrateful fancy; From such a female frenzy; From them that use men thus, Good Lord, deliver us.
Alas! I lie: rage hath this error bred; Love is not dead, Love is not dead, but sleepeth In her unmatched mind: Where she his counsel keepeth Till due deserts she find. Therefore from so vile fancy, To call such wit a frenzy: Who Love can temper thus, Good Lord, deliver us.
POEM: STANZAS
And as the turtle dove To mate with whom he liveth, Such comfort fervent love Of you to my heart giveth. Join hearts and hands, so let it be, Make but one mind in bodies three.
Now joined be our hands, Let them be ne'er asunder, But link'd in binding bands By metamorphosed wonder. So should our severed bodies three As one for ever joined be.
POEM: DISPRAISE OF A COURTLY LIFE
Walking in bright Phoebus' blaze, Where with heat oppressed I was, I got to a shady wood, Where green leaves did newly bud; And of grass was plenty dwelling, Decked with pied flowers sweetly smelling.
In this wood a man I met, On lamenting wholly set; Ruing change of wonted state, Whence he was transformed late, Once to shepherds' God retaining, Now in servile court remaining.
There he wand'ring malecontent, Up and down perplexed went, Daring not to tell to me, Spake unto a senseless tree, One among the rest electing, These same words, or this affecting:
"My old mates I grieve to see Void of me in field to be, Where we once our lovely sheep Lovingly like friends did keep; Oft each other's friendship proving, Never striving, but in loving.
"But may love abiding be In poor shepherds' base degree? It belongs to such alone To whom art of love is known: Seely shepherds are not witting What in art of love is fitting.
"Nay, what need the art to those To whom we our love disclose? It is to be used then, When we do but flatter men: Friendship true, in heart assured, Is by Nature's gifts procured.
"Therefore shepherds, wanting skill, Can Love's duties best fulfil; Since they know not how to feign, Nor with love to cloak disdain, Like the wiser sort, whose learning Hides their inward will of harming.
"Well was I, while under shade Oaten reeds me music made, Striving with my mates in song; Mixing mirth our songs among. Greater was the shepherd's treasure Than this false, fine, courtly pleasure.
"Where how many creatures be, So many puffed in mind I see; Like to Juno's birds of pride, Scarce each other can abide: Friends like to black swans appearing, Sooner these than those in hearing.
"Therefore, Pan, if thou may'st be Made to listen unto me, Grant, I say, if seely man May make treaty to god Pan, That I, without thy denying, May be still to thee relying.
"Only for my two loves' sake, In whose love I pleasure take; Only two do me delight With their ever-pleasing sight; Of all men to thee retaining, Grant me with those two remaining.
"So shall I to thee always With my reeds sound mighty praise: And first lamb that shall befall, Yearly deck thine altar shall, If it please thee to be reflected, And I from thee not rejected."
So I left him in that place, Taking pity on his case; Learning this among the rest, That the mean estate is best; Better filled with contenting, Void of wishing and repenting.
POEM: DIRGE
Ring out your bells, let mourning shows be spread, For Love is dead: All Love is dead, infected With plague of deep disdain: Worth, as nought worth, rejected, And faith fair scorn doth gain. From so ungrateful fancy; From such a female frenzy; From them that use men thus, Good Lord, deliver us.
Weep, neighbours, weep, do you not hear it said That Love is dead: His death-bed, peacock's folly: His winding-sheet is shame; His will, false-seeming holy, His sole executor, blame. From so ungrateful fancy; From such a female frenzy; From them that use men thus, Good Lord, deliver us.
Let dirge be sung, and trentals rightly read, For Love is dead: Sir Wrong his tomb ordaineth My mistress' marble heart; Which epitaph containeth, "Her eyes were once his dart." From so ungrateful fancy; From such a female frenzy; From them that use men thus, Good Lord, deliver us.
Alas! I lie: rage hath this error bred; Love is not dead, Love is not dead, but sleepeth In her unmatched mind: Where she his counsel keepeth Till due deserts she find. Therefore from so vile fancy, To call such wit a frenzy: Who Love can temper thus, Good Lord, deliver us.
POEM: STANZAS