SIR EDWARD DYER.

1540-161-.

["England's Helicon." 1600.]

TO PHILLIS, THE FAIR SHEPHERDESS.

My Phillis hath the morning sun,
At first to look upon her;

My Phillis hath morn-waking birds,
Her risings still to honour.

My Phillis hath prime-feathered flowers,
That smile when she treads on them;

And Phillis hath a gallant flock,

That leaps since she doth own them.

But Phillis hath too hard a heart,

Alas, that she should have it!

It yields no mercy to desert,

Nor grace to those that crave it:

Sweet sun, when thou look'st on,

Pray her regard my moan;

Sweet birds, when you sing to her.

To yield some pity, woo her;
Sweet flowers, that she treads on,
Tell her her beauty deads one.

And if in life her love she will agree me,
Pray her before I die she will come see me.

NICHOLAS BRETON.

1555-1624.

["England's Helicon."]

A PASTORAL OF PHILLIS AND CORIDON.

ON a hill there grows a flower,

Fair befall the dainty sweet:
For that flower there is a bower,
Where the heavenly Muses meet.

In that bower there is a chair,

Fringed all about with gold,
Where doth sit the fairest fair,
That ever eye did yet behold.

It is Phillis, fair and bright,

She that is the shepherd's joy:

She that Venus did despite,

And did blind her little boy.

This is she, the wise, the rich,

That the world desires to see:

This is ipse qua, the which

There is none but only she.

Who would not this face admire?

Who would not this saint adore?

Who would not this sight desire,

Though he thought to see no more?

O fair eyes, yet let me see

One good look, and I am gone; Look on me, for I am he,

Thy poor silly Coridon.

Thou that art the shepherd's queen,
Look upon thy silly swain:

By thy comfort have been seen
Dead men brought to life again.

CORIDON'S SUPPLICATION TO PHILLIS.

Sweet Phillis, if a silly swain

May sue to thee for grace,

See not thy loving shepherd slain,
For looking on thy face.

But think what power thou hast got,
Upon my flock and me;

Thou see'st they now regard me not,
But all do follow thee.

And if I have so far presumed,

With prying in thine eyes;
Yet let not comfort be consumed,
That in thy pity lies:

But as thou art that Phillis fair,
That Fortune favour gives,

So let not Love die in despair,
That in thy favour lives.
The deer do browse upon the brier,
The birds do pick the cherries:
And will not beauty grant desire
A handful of her berries?

If it be so that thou hast sworn,
That none shall look on thee;

Yet let me know thou dost not scorn
To cast a look on me.

But if thy beauty make thee proud,
Think then what is ordained:
The heavens have never yet allowed
That Love should be disdained.
Then lest the fates that favour Love
Should curse thee for unkind,
Let me report for thy behoove,
The honour of thy mind;
Let Coridon with full consent

Set down what he hath seen:

That Phillida, with Love's content, Is sworn the Shepherd's Queen.

FULKE GREVILE,

LORD BROOKE.

1554-1628.

"FULKE GREVILE, servant to Queen Elizabeth, Counsellor to King James, and friend to Sir Philip Sydney."-LORD BROOKE'S EPITAPH.

["England's Helicon."]

OF HIS CYNTHIA.

Away with these self-loving lads,
Whom Cupid's arrow never glads;
Away, poor souls that sigh, and weep,
In love of them that lie and sleep.
For Cupid is a merry god,

And forceth none to kiss the rod.

God Cupid's shafts, like destiny,

Doth either good or ill decree:
Desert is borne out of his bow,
Reward upon his feet doth go.

What fools are they that have not known

That Love likes no laws but his own.

My songs, they be of Cynthia's praise,
I wear her rings on holidays;
On every tree I write her name,
And every day I read the same.