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Now stands the Breere like a lord alone,
Puff'd up with pride and vain pleasance;
But all this glee had no continuance:
For eftsoons winter 'gan to approach,
The blustering Boreas did encroach,
And beat upon the solitary Breere,
For now no succour was seen him neere.
Now 'gan he repent his pride too late,
For naked left and disconsolate,
The biting frost nipt his stalk dead,
The watry wet weighed down his head,
And heaped snow burdned him so sore,
That now upright he can stand no more;
And being down is trod in the durt
Of cattel, and brouzed, and sorely hurt.
Such was th’ end of this ambitious Breere,
For scorning eld—”

Cuddy. Now I pray thee shepherd, tell it not forth:
Here is a long tale and little worth.
So long have I listened to thy speech,
That graffed to the ground is my breech;
My heart-blood is well nigh frozen I feel,
And my galage grown fast to my heel;
But little ease of thy leud tale I tasted;
Hie thee home, shepherd, the day is nigh wasted.

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Ye learned Sisters! which have oftentimes
Been to me aiding, others to adorn,
Whom ye thought worthy of your graceful rimes,
That ev'n the greatest did not greatly scorn
To hear their names sung in your simple layes,
But joyed in their praise;
And when ye list your own mishap to mourn,
Which death, or love, or fortune's wreck, did raise,
Your string could soon to sadder tenour turn,
And teach the woods and waters to lament
Your doleful dreriment;
Now lay those sorrowful complaints aside,
And having all your heads with girlands crown'd,
Help me mine own love's praises to resound,
Ne let the same of any be envide:
So Orpheus did for his own bride;

So I unto my self alone will sing,
The woods shall to me answer, and my eccho ring.

Early before the world's light-giving lamp
His golden beam upon the hills doth spred,
Having disperst the night's unchearful damp,
Do ye awake, and with fresh lustihed,
Go to the bowre of my beloved love,
My truest turtle-dove,

Bid her awake, for Hymen is awake,
And long since ready forth his mask to move,
With his bright teade that flames with many a flake
And many a batchelor to wait on him, >
In their fresh garments trim ;

Bid her awake, therefore, and soon her dight,
For loe, the wished day is come at last,
That shall for all the pains and sorrows past

Pay to her usury of long delight;
And whilst she doth her dight,
Do ye to her of joy and solace sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your ecchoring.

Bring with you all the nymphs that you can hear
Both of the rivers and the forests green,
And of the sea that neighbours to her near,
All with gay girlands goodly well beseen;
And let them also with them bring in hand
Another gay girland,
For my fair love, of lillies and of roses,
Bound true-love wise with a blue silk riband;
And let them make great store of bridal posies,
And let them eke bring store of other flowers
To deck the bridal bowers;
And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread,
For fear the stones her tender foot should wrong,
Be strew’d with fragrant flowers all along,
And diapred like the discoloured meed:
Which done, do at her chamber-door await,
For she will waken strait;
The whiles do ye this song unto her sing,
The woods shall to you answer, and your ecchoring.

“Ye nymphs of Mulla, which with careful heed
The silver scaly trouts do tend full well,
And greedy pikes which use therein to feed,
(Those trouts and pikes all others do excel)
And ye likewise, which keep the rushie lake,
Where none do fishes take,
Bind up the locks the which hang scattered light,
And in his waters, which your mirror make,
Behold your faces as the crystal bright,
That when you come whereas my love doth lie,
Noblemish she may spie.
And eke, ye lightfoot Maids! which keep the door,
That on the hoary mountain use to towre,
And the wild wolves which seek them to devour,
Which your steel darts do chace from coming near,
Be also present here
To help to deck her, and to help to sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your ecchoring,

“Wake now, my Love! awake, for it is time;
The rosie morn long since left Tithon's bed,
And ready to her silver coach to clime,
And Phoebus 'gins to shew his glorious head.
Hark! how the chearful birds do chaunt their layes,
And carrol of Love's praise.
The merry lark her mattins sings aloft,
The thrush replies, the mevis descant plays,
The ouzel shrills, the ruddock warbles soft;
So goodly all agree, with sweet consent,
To this day's merriment.
Ah! my dear Love! why do you sleep thus long,
When meeter were that ye should now awake,
T’await the coming of your joyous make,
And hearken to the bird's love-learned song,
The dewie leaves among?
For they of joy and pleasance to you sing, -
That all thewoods them answer, and theirecchoring.
“My love is now awake out of her dreams,
And her fair eyes, like stars that dimmed were
With darksome cloud, now shew their goodly beams,
More bright than Hesperus his head doth rere.
Come now, ye Damsels daughters of delight,
Help quickly her to dight;
But first come, ye fair Houres which were begot
In Jove's sweet paradise of day and night,
Which do the seasons of the year allot,
And all that ever in this world is fair
Do make and still repair:
And ye three Handmaids of the Cyprian queen,
The which do still adorn her beauty's pride,
Help to adorn my beautifullest bride,
And as ye her array, still throw between
Some graces to be seen;
And as ye use to Venus, to her sing, [ring.
The whiles the woods shall answer, and your eccho

“Now is my love all ready forth to come,
Let all the virgins therefore well await;
And ye, fresh Boys, that tend upon her groom,
Prepare yourselves, for he is coming strait:
Set all your things in seemly good array,
Fit for so joyful day,
The joyfulst day that ever sun did see.
Fair Sun I shew forth thy favourable ray,
And let thy life-ful heat not fervent be,
For fear of burning her sun-shiny face,
Her beauty to disgrace.
O fairest Phoebus : father of the Muse,
If ever I did honour thee aright,
Orsing the thing that mote thy mind delight,
Do not thy servant's simple boon refuse,
But let this day, let this one day be mine,
Let all the rest be thine:
Then I thy soveraign praises loud will sing,
That all the woods shall answer,and theirecchoring.

“Hark! how the minstrels'gin to shrill aloud
Their merry music that resounds from far,
The pipe, the tabor, and the trembling croud,
That well agree withouten breach or jar:
But most of all the damzels do delite
When they their timbrels smite,
And thereunto do daunce and carrol sweet,
That all the senses they do ravish quite;
The whiles the boys run up and down the street,
Crying aloud, with strong confused noise,
As if it were one voice,
Hymen, IG Hymen: Hymen they do shout,
That even to the heavens their shouting shrill
Doth reach, and all the firmament doth fill;
To which the people standing all about,
As in approvance, do thereto applaud,
And loud advance her laud.
And even more they Hymen, Hymen sing,
That allthewoodsthemanswer,and theirecchoring.

* Loe. where she comes along with portly pace, Like Phoebe, from her chamber of the East, Arising forth to run her mighty race,

Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best:
So well it her beseems, that ye would ween
Some angel she had been:
Her long loose yellow locks, like golden wire,
Sprinkled with pearl, and perling flowers atween,
Do like a golden mantel her attire,
And being crowned with a girland green,
Seem like some maiden queen.
Her modest eyes, abashed to behold
So many gazers as on her do stare,
Upon the lowly ground affixed are,
Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold,
But blush to hear her praises sung so loud,
So far from being proud.
Nathless do ye still loud her praises sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your ecchoring.

“Tell me, ye merchants' daughters! did ye see
So fair a creature in your town before,
So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she,
Adorn'd with beauty's grace and vertue's store?
Her goodly eyes like saphires shining bright,
Her forehead ivory white,
Her cheeks like apples which the sun hath rudded,
Her lips like cherries, charming men to bite,
Her breast like to a bowl of cream uncrudded,
Her paps like lillies budded,
Her snowy neck like to a marble towre,
And all her body like a palace fair,
Ascending up with many a stately stair
To Honour's seat, and Chastity's sweet bowre.
Why stand ye still, ye virgins ! in amaze,
Upon her so to gaze;
Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing,
Towhich the woods did answer, and your ecchoring.

“But if ye saw that which no eyes can see,
The inward beauty of her lively spright,
Garnish’d with heavenly gifts of high degree,
Much more then would ye wonder at the sight,
And stand astonish’d like to those which red
Medusa's mazeful head.
There dwells sweet Love and constant Chastity,
Unspotted Faith and comely Womanhood,
Regard of Honour and mild Modesty;
There Vertue reigns as queen of royal throne
And giveth laws alone,
The which the base affections do obey,
And yield their services unto her will;
Ne thought of things uncomely ever may
Thereto approach, to tempt her mind to ill.
Hadye once seen these her celestial treasures,
And unrevealed pleasures,
Then would ye wonder, and her praisessing, [ring.
That all the woods should answer, and your eccho.

“Open the temple-gates unto my love, Open them wide that she may enter in, And all the posts adorn as doth behove, And all the pillars deck with girlands trim, For to receive this saint with honour due, That cometh in to you.

With trembling steps and humble reverence
She comethin before th' Almighty's view;
Of her, ye Virgins! learn obedience,
Whensoye come into those holy places,
To humble your proud faces.
Bring her up to th' high altar, that she may
The sacred ceremonies there partake,
The which do endless matrimony make;
And let the roaring organs loudly play
The praises of the Lord, in lively notes,
The whiles with hollow throats
The choristers the joyous anthems sing,
That all the woods may answer, and theirecchoring.

“Behold, whiles she before the altar stands,
Hearing the holy priest that to her speaks,
And blesses her with his two happy hands,
How the red roses flush up in her cheeks
And the pure snow, with goodly vermil stain,
Like crimson dy’d in grain,
That even the angels, which continually
About the sacred altar do remain,
Forget their service, and about her fly,
Oft peeping in her face, that seems more fair
The more they on it stare:
But her sad eyes, still fastned on the ground,
Are governed with goodly modesty,
That suffers not one look to glaunce awry,
Which may let in a little thought unsound.
Why blush ye, Love! to give to me your hand,
The pledge of all your band 7
Sing, ye sweet angels! Alleluya sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your ecchoring.

“Now all is done; bring home the bride again,
Bring home the triumph of our victory :
Bring home with you the glory of her gain,
With joyance bring her, and with jollity.
Never had man more joyful day than this,
Whom Heaven would heap with bliss.
Make feast, therefore, now all this live-long day,
This day for ever to me holy is;
Pour out the wine without restraint or stay,
Pour not by cups, but by the belly-full:
Pour out to all that wull,
And sprinkle all the posts and walls with wine,
That they may sweat and drunken be withal:
Crown ye god Bacchus with a coronal,
And Hymen also crown with wreaths of vine,
And let the Graces daunce unto the rest,
For they can do it best;
The whiles the maidens do their carol sing, [ring.
To which the woods shall answer, and their eccho

“Ring ye the bells, ye young men of the town,
And leave your wonted labours for this day;
This day is holy; do you write it down,
That ye for ever it remember may :
This day the sun is in its chiefest hight,
With Barnaby the bright;
From whence declining daily by degrees,
He somewhat loseth of his heat and light,

When once the Crab behind his back he sees:
But for this time it ill ordained was,
To chuse the longest day in all the year,
And shortest night, when longest fitter were;
Yet never day so long but late would pass.
Ring ye the bells to make it wear away,
And bonefires make all day,
And daunce about them, and about them sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your ecchoring.

“Ah! when will this long weary day have end,
And lend me leave to come unto my love?
How slowly do the hours their numbers spend?
How slowly doth sad Time his feathers move :
Haste thee, O fairest Planet! to thy home,
Within the western foame;
Thy tyred steeds long since have need of rest.
Long tho it be, at last I see it gloom,
And the bright evening-star with golden crest,
Appear out of the east.
Fair child of beauty, glorious lamp of love
That all the host of heaven in ranks dost lead,
And guidest lovers through the night's sad dread,
How chearfully thou lookest from above,
And seem'st to laugh atween thy twinkling light,
As joying in the sight
Of these glad many, which for joy do sing, [ring.”
That all the woods them answer, and their eccho

Now cease, ye Damsels' your delights forepast,
Enough it is that all the day was yours;
Now day is done, and night is nighing fast,
Now bring the bride into the bridal bowres;
Now night is come, now soon her disarray,
And in her bed her lay;
Lay her in lillies and in violets,
And silken curtains over her display,
And odour'd sheets, and arras coverlets.
Behold how goodly my fair love does lie,
In proud humility;
Like unto Maia, whenas Jove her took
In Tempe, lying on the flowrie grass,
"Twixt sleep and wake, after she weary was
With bathing in the Acidalian brook:
Now it is night, ye damsels may be gone,
And leave my love alone,
And leave likewise your former lays to sing;
The woods no more shall answer, nor your eccho ring-

Now welcome night, thou night so long expected,
That long day's labour dost at length defray,
And all my cares, which cruel Love collected,
Hast summ'd in one, and cancelled for aye :
Spread thy broad wing over my love and me,
That no man may us see,
And in thy sable mantle us enwrap,
From fear of peril, and foul horror free;
Let no false treason seek us to entrap,
Nor any dread disquiet once annoy
The safety of our joy,
But let the night be calm and quietsome,

Without tempestuous storms or sad affray,

Like as when Jove with fair Alcmena lay,
when he begot the great Tirynthian groom;
Or like as when he with thy self did lie,
And begot Majesty;
And let the maids and young men cease to sing ;
Nelet the woods them answer, northeir eccho ring.

Let no lamenting cries nor doleful tears
Be heard all night within, nor yet without ;
Ne let false whispers, breeding hidden fears,
Break gentle sleep with misconceived doubt:
Let no deluding dreams, nor dreadful sights,
Make sudden sad affrights;
Ne let house-fires, nor lightnings, helpless harms,
Ne let the ponk, nor other evil sprights,
Ne let mischievous witches with their charms,
Ne let hob-goblins, names whose sense we see not,
Fray us with things that be not:
Let not the scriech-owl nor the stork be heard,
Nor the night-raven, that still deadly yells,
Nor damned ghosts, call’d up with mighty spells,
Nor griesly vultures, make us once affeard:
Ne let th' unpleasant quire of frogs still croking,
Make us to wish their choking;
Let none of these their drery accents sing,
Ne let the woods them answer, northeir eccho ring.

Butlet still silence true night-watches keep,
That sacred Peace may in assurance reign,
And timely sleep. when it is time to sleep,
May pour his limbs forth on your pleasant plain ;
The whiles an hundred little winged Loves,
Like divers—fethered doves,
Shall fly and flutter round about your bed,
And in the secret dark, that mone reproves,
Their pretty stealths shall work, and snares shall
spread,
To filch away sweet snatches of delight,
Conceal’d through covert night.
Ye sons of Venus! play your sports at will,
For greedy Pleasure, careless of your toyes,
Thinks more upon her Paradise of joyes
Than what you do, all be it good or ill.
An night, therefore, attend your merry play,
For it will soon be day:
Now none doth hinder you that say or sing,
Ne will the woods now answer, nor your ecchoring.

who is the same which at my window peeps?
or whose is that fair face which shines so bright?
Is it not Cynthia, she that never sleeps,
But walks about high heaven all the night?
O! fairest Goddess! do thou not envy
My love with me to spy;
For thou likewise didst love, though now unthought,
And for a fleece of wool, which privily

The Latmian shepherd once unto thee brought,
His pleasures with thee wrought:
Therefore to us be favourable now,
And sith of women's labours thou hast charge,
And generation goodly dost enlarge,
Encline thy will to effect our wishful vow,
And the chaste womb inform with timely seed,
That may our comfort breed;
Till which we cease our hopeful hap to sing,
Ne let the woods us answer, nor our eccho ring.

And thou, great Junol which with awful might
The laws of wedlock still dost patronize,
And the religion of the faith first plight,
With sacred rights hast taught to solemnize,
And eke for comfort often called art
Of women in their smart,
Eternally bind thou this lovely band,
And all thy blessing unto us impart.
And thou, glad Genius in whose gentle hand
The bridal bower and genial bed remain,
Without blemish or stain,
And the sweet pleasures of their love's delight
With secret aid dost succour and supply,
Till they bring forth the fruitful progeny,
Send us the timely fruit of this same night,
And thou, fair Hebe 1 and thou, Hymen free,
Grant that it so may be.
Till which we cease your further praise to sing,
Ne any woods shall answer, nor your eccho ring.

And ye, high Heavens ! the temple of the gods,
In which a thousand torches flaming bright
Do burn, that to us wretched earthly clods
In dreadful darkness lend desired light;
And all ye Powers which in the same remain,
More than we men can feign,
Pour out your blessing on us plenteously,
And happy influence upon us rain,
That we may rise a large posterity,
Which from the earth, which they may long possess
With lasting happiness,
Up to your haughty palaces may mount,
And for the guerdon of your glorious merit
May heavenly tabernacles there inherit,
Of blessed saints for to increase the count:
So let us rest, sweet Love! in hope of this
And cease till then our timely joys to sing,
The woods no more us answer, nor our eccho ring.

song made in lieu of many ornaments with which my love should duly have been deckt, which cutting off through hasty accidents, Ye would not stay your due time to expect, But promis'd both to recompence, But unto her a goodly ornament, And for short time an endless monument.

SONNETS, By SIR PHILIP SIDNEY-A. D. 1554–84.

Because I oft in dark abstracted guise
Seem most alone in greatest company,
With dearth of words, or answers quite awry
To them that would make speech of speech arise,
They deem, and of their doom the rumour flies,
That poison foul of bubbling Pride doth lie
So in my swelling breast, that only I
Fawn on myself, and others do despise.
Yet Pride I think doth not my soul possess,
Which looks too oft in his unflattering glass;
But one worse fault Ambition I confess,
That makes me oft my best friends overpass,
Unseen, unheard, while thought to highest place
Bends all his powers, even unto Stella's grace.

With how sad steps, OMoon, thou climb'st the skies,
How silently, and with how wan a faces
What! may it be, that even in heavenly place
That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries
Sure, if that long with love acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case;
I read it in thy looks, thy languish’d grace
To me that feel the like thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be lov’d, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?

Come, Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,
The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
The indifferent judge between the high and low.
With shield of proof shield me from out the prease
Of those fierce darts, Despair at me doth throw;
O make in me those civil wars to cease:
I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.
Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed;
A chamber, deaf to noise, and blind to light;
A rosy garland, and a weary head.
And if these things, as being thine by right,
Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me
Livelier than elsewhere Stella's image see.

Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance
Guided so well, that I obtain’d the prize,
Both by the judgment of the English eyes,
And of some sent from that sweet enemy France;
Horsemen my skill in horsemanship advance;
Townsfolk my strength; a daintier judge applies
His praise to sleight which from good use doth rise;
Some lucky wits impute it but to chance;
Others, because of both sides I do take
My bloud from them who did excel in this,
Think nature me a man of arms did make.
How far they shot awry! the true cause is,
Stella look'd on, and from her heavenly face
Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race.

In martial sports I had my cunning tried,
And yet to break more staves did me address;
While with the people's shouts, I must confess,
Youth, luck, and praise, even fill'd my veins with
when Cupid, having me (his slave) descried [pride.
In Mars's livery, prancing in the press,
“What now, Sir Fool,” said he, “I would no less.
“Look here, I say.” I look'd, and Stella spied,
Who hard by made a window send forth light.
My heart then quaked, then dazzled were my eyes;
One hand forgot to rule, th’ other to fight;
Nor trumpet’s sound I heard, nor friendly cries;
My foe came on, and beat the air for me,
Till that her blush taught me my shame to see.

Of all the kings that ever here did reign,
Edward named Fourth as first in praise I name;
Not for his fair outside, nor well-lined brain,
Although less gifts imp feathers oft on Fame:
Nor that he could, young-wise, wise-valiant, frame
His sire's revenge, join’d with a kingdom's gain,
And, gain’d by Mars, could yet mad Mars so tame,
That Balance weigh’d what Sword did late obtain:
Nor that he made the Flower-de-luce so fraid,
Though strongly hedg'd of bloody Lion's paws,
That witty Lewis to him a tribute paid.
Nor this, nor that, nor any such small cause—
But only for this worthy knight durst prove
To lose his crown, rather than fail his love.

High-way, since you my chief Parnassus be,
And that my Muse (to some ears not unsweet)
Tempers her words to trampling horses’ feet
More oft than to a chamber melody:
Now blessed you bear onward blessed me
To her, where I my heart safe left shall meet,
My Muse and I must you of duty greet
With thanks and wishes, wishing thankfully.
Be you still fair, honor'd by public heed,
By no encroachment wrong'd, nor time forgot;
Nor blamed for blood, nor shamed for sinful deed:
And that you know, I envy you no lot
Of highest wish, I wish you so much bliss,
Hundreds of years you Stella's feet may kiss.

O happy Thames, that did'st my Stella bear!
I saw thyself with many a smiling line
Upon thy chearful face joy's livery wear,
While those fair planets on thy streams did shine.
The boat for joy could not to dance forbear;
While wanton winds, with beauties so divine
Ravish'd, staid not, till in her golden hair
They did themselves (O sweetest prison) twine:
And fain those CEol's youth there would their stay
Have made; but, forced by Nature still to fly,
First did with puffing kiss those locks display.
She, so dischevill'd, blush’d. From window I,
With sight thereof, cried out, “O fair disgrace;
Let Honor's self to thee grant highest place.”

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