Report fair Venus' moans to have no end.
Then may remorse, in pitying of my smart,
Dry up my tears, and dwell within her heart.

TO ZEPHERIA.

From Zepheria, 1594, a volume of anonymous poetry, reprinted in Arber's Garner, vol. v.

WHAT! shall I ne'er more see those halcyon days!

Those sunny Sabbaths! days of jubilee!

Wherein I carolled merry roundelays,

Odes, and love songs? which, being viewed by thee,
Received allowance worthy better writ!

When we, on shepherds' holy days have hied

Down to the flowery pastures (flowers, for thy treading fit!) Holy the day, when thou it sanctified!

When thou, Zepheria, wouldst but deign to bless it,

How have I, jealous over Phoebus' rays,

Clouded thy fair! Then, fearing he would guess it
By thy white brow, it have I cinct' with bays!

But, woe is me! that I have fenced thy beauty!
Sith other must enjoy it, and not I.

HENCE CARE!

From Thomas Morley's First Book of Ballets, 1595.

Now is best leisure

To take our pleasure.

Fa la la!

All things invite us

Now to delight us.

Fa la la!

Hence care be packing,

No mirth be lacking.

Fa la la!

Let spare no treasure

To live in pleasure.

Fa la la!

THE MONTH OF MAYING.

NOW is the month of maying,

When merry lads are playing
Each with his bonny lass
Upon the greeny grass.
Fa la la!

The spring clad all in gladness
Doth laugh at winter's sadness,
And to the bagpipe's sound

The nymphs tread out their ground.
Fa la la!

Fie then, why sit we musing,
Youth's sweet delight refusing?
Say, dainty nymphs, and speak,
Shall we play barley-break?

Fa la la!

BROWN IS MY LOVE.

From the Second Book of Musica Transalpina, 1597.

BROWN is my Love, but graceful;

And each renowned whiteness

Matched with thy lovely brown loseth its brightness.

Fair is my Love, but scornful;

Yet have I seen despisèd

Dainty white lilies, and sad flowers well prizèd.

COME AWAY! COME, SWEET LOVE!

From John Dowland's First Book of Songs or Airs, 1597; reprinted in Arber's Garner, vol. iv.

COME away! come, sweet love!

The golden morning breaks;

All the earth, all the air,

Of love and pleasure speaks!
Teach thine arms then to embrace,
And sweet rosy lips to kiss,

And mix our souls in mutual bliss!
Eyes were made for beauty's grace,
Viewing, ruing, love's long pain,
Procured by beauty's rude disdain.

Come away! come, sweet love!
Do not in vain adorn

Beauty's grace, that should rise
Like to the naked morn!

Lilies on the river's side,

And fair Cyprian flowers new-blown,
Desire no beauties but their own:

Ornament is nurse of pride,

Pleasure, measure love's delight,

Haste then, sweet love, our wishèd flight!

L

MADRIGAL.

From Wilbye's Madrigals, 1598.

ADY, when I behold the roses sprouting,

Which, clad in damask mantles, deck the arbours, And then behold your lips, where sweet love harbours, My eyes present me with a double doubting: For viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes, Whether the roses be your lips, or your lips the roses.

I SAW MY LADY WEEP.

From Dowland's Second Book of Songs or Airs, 1600.

I SAW my lady weep,

And Sorrow proud to be advanced so

In those fair eyes where all perfections keep.
Her face was full of woe:

But such a woe, believe me, as wins more hearts
Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts.

Sorrow was there made fair,

And passion wise; tears a delightful thing;
Silence beyond all speech, a wisdom rare;
She made her sighs to sing,

And all things with so sweet a sadness move
As made my heart at once both grieve and love.

O fairer than aught else

The world can show, leave off in time to grieve.
Enough, enough! your joyful look excels;
Tears kill the heart, believe.

O strive not to be excellent in woe,

Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.

LOVE AND MAY.

From T. Morley's Madrigals, 1600.

NOW is the gentle season, freshly flowering,

To sing, and play, and dance, while May endureth,
And woo, and wed too, that sweet delight procureth.

The fields abroad with spangled flowers are gilded,
The meads are mantled, and closes1;

In May each bush arrayèd, and sweet wild roses.

The nightingale her bower hath gaily builded,

And full of kindly lust and loves inspiring,
I love, I love, she sings, hark, her mate desiring.

LOVE'S REALITIES.

From Robert Jones' First Book of Songs and Airs, 1601.

HEN love on time and measure makes his ground,

WHEN

Time that must end, though love can never die,

'Tis love betwixt a shadow and a sound,

A love not in the heart but in the eye;
A love that ebbs and flows, now up, now down,
A morning's favour and an evening's frown.

Sweet looks show love, yet they are but as beams:
Fair words seem true, yet they are but as wind;
Eyes shed their tears, yet are but outward streams;
Sighs paint a shadow in the falsest mind.

Looks, words, tears, sighs show love when love they leave;
False hearts can weep, sigh, swear, and yet deceive.

1 closes, gardens. The music in the original text shows that the composer had this apparently defective line before him.