Some swear Love, Is sweetest sweet that men can have. Makes virtue yield as beauty's slave: Love is sweet: Wherein sweet? In fading pleasures that do pain? Is that sweet, That yieldeth sorrow for a gain? Herein sweet That minutes' joys are monthly woes: 'Tis not sweet, That is sweet Nowhere, but where repentance grows. WE SEPHESTIA'S SONG TO HER CHILD. EEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; Father's sorrow, father's joy; When thy father first did see Last his sorrow, first his joy. Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, Like pearl drops from a flint, Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, More he crowed, more we cried, Father's sorrow, father's joy. Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, MENAPHON'S ROUNDELAY. WHEN tender ewes, brought home with evening Wend to their folds, And to their holds The shepherds trudge when light of day is done, Upon a tree The eagle, Jove's fair bird, did perch; There resteth he: A little fly his harbour then did search, And did presume, though others laughed thereat, [sun, The eagle frowned, and shook his royal wings, From thence to hie: Afraid, in haste, the little creature flings, Fearful, to perk him by the eagle's side. The speedy post of Ganymede replied, The fly craved pity, still the eagle frowned: Disgraced, displaced, fell grovelling to the ground: And with a royal mind said to the fly, 'Be not in awe, I scorn by me the meanest creature die; DORON'S DESCRIPTION OF SAMELA. LIKE to Diana in her summer weed, Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed, As fair Aurora in her morning grey, Decked with the ruddy glister of her love, Is fair Samela; Like lovely Thetis on a calmèd day, Whenas her brightness Neptune's fancy move, Shines fair Samela; Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassy streams, Her teeth are pearl, the breasts are ivory Of fair Samela; Her cheeks, like rose and lily yield forth gleams, Passeth fair Venus in her bravest hue, For she's Samela, Pallas in wit; all three, if you well view, DORON'S JIG. THROUGH the shrubs as I 'gan crack 'Mongst many pretty ones, Nymphs I mean, whose hair was black As the crow; Like the snow Her face and brows shined, I ween; A bonny pretty one, As bright, buxom, and as sheer, On her knee That lulled the god whose arrow warms Such fair-faced pretty ones, As dally in love's chiefest harms: Such was mine, Whose grey eyne Made me love. I 'gan to woo This bonny pretty one; I wooed hard a day or two, Till she bade— 'Be not sad, Woo no more, I am thine own, Thy truest pretty one.' Thus was faith and firm love shown, As behoves Shepherds' loves. MELICERTUS' DESCRIPTION OF HIS MISTRESS. TUNE on, my pipe, the praises of my love, Whence sun-bright Venus vaunts her silver shine? Ah, more than that by just compare is thine, Whose crystal looks the cloudy heavens do clear! How oft have I descending Titan seen His burning locks couch in the sea-queen's lap, Bade bright Arcturus with his train give place, • The erroneous employment of this word in the sense of melody is frequent amongst the old writers, who, probably, took their use of it from the French, who still apply it indifferently to time and unison. Shakspeare generally employs it in its strict meaning, such as the harmony of form (the proportion or agreement of parts), or the harmony of sounds. In Hamlet it is misapplied in reference to the ventages of the pipe: 'But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony.'-iji. 2. |