bilbos] swords, from Bilboa.
Michael Drayton. 1563-1631
120. To the Virginian Voyage
YOU brave heroic minds Worthy your country"s name, That honour still pursue; Go and subdue!
Whilst loitering hinds Lurk here at home with shame.
Britons, you stay too long: Quickly aboard bestow you, And with a merry gale Swell your stretch"d sail With vows as strong As the winds that blow you.
Your course securely steer, West and by south forth keep!
Rocks, lee-sh.o.r.es, nor shoals When Eolus scowls You need not fear; So absolute the deep.
And cheerfully at sea Success you still entice To get the pearl and gold, And ours to hold Virginia, Earth"s only paradise.
Where nature hath in store Fowl, venison, and fish, And the fruitfull"st soil Without your toil Three harvests more, All greater than your wish.
And the ambitious vine Crowns with his purple ma.s.s The cedar reaching high To kiss the sky, The cypress, pine, And useful sa.s.safras.
To whom the Golden Age Still nature"s laws doth give, No other cares attend, But them to defend From winter"s rage, That long there doth not live.
When as the luscious smell Of that delicious land Above the seas that flows The clear wind throws, Your hearts to swell Approaching the dear strand;
In kenning of the sh.o.r.e (Thanks to G.o.d first given) O you the happiest men, Be frolic then!
Let cannons roar, Frighting the wide heaven.
And in regions far, Such heroes bring ye forth As those from whom we came; And plant our name Under that star Not known unto our North.
And as there plenty grows Of laurel everywhere-- Apollo"s sacred tree-- You it may see A poet"s brows To crown, that may sing there.
Thy Voyages attend, Industrious Hakluyt, Whose reading shall inflame Men to seek fame, And much commend To after times thy wit.
Christopher Marlowe. 1564-93
121. The Pa.s.sionate Shepherd to His Love
COME live with me and be my Love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Or woods or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks, And see the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies; A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroider"d all with leaves of myrtle.
A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair-lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy-buds With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my Love.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my Love.
Sir Walter Raleigh. 1564-93
122. Her Reply (WRITTEN BY SIR WALTER RALEIGH)
IF all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd"s tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy Love.
But Time drives flocks from field to fold; When rivers rage and rocks grow cold; And Philomel becometh dumb; The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward Winter reckoning yields: A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy"s spring, but sorrow"s fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither--soon forgotten, In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs,-- All these in me no means can move To come to thee and be thy Love.
But could youth last, and love still breed, Had joys no date, nor age no need, Then these delights my mind might move To live with thee and be thy Love.
William Shakespeare. 1564-1616
123. Silvia
WHO is Silvia? What is she?
That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she; The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be.
Is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness; And, being help"d, inhabits there.
Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling: To her let us garlands bring.
William Shakespeare. 1564-1616
124. The Blossom
ON a day--alack the day!-- Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom pa.s.sing fair Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind All unseen "gan pa.s.sage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish"d himself the heaven"s breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; Air, would I might triumph so!
But, alack, my hand is sworn Ne"er to pluck thee from thy thorn: Vow, alack, for youth unmeet; Youth so apt to pluck a sweet!
Do not call it sin in me That I am forsworn for thee; Thou for whom e"en Jove would swear Juno but an Ethiop were; And deny himself for Jove, Turning mortal for thy love.
William Shakespeare. 1564-1616
125. Spring and Winter i
WHEN daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo!--O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!