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My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal',
My wether's bell rings doleful knell;
My curtail dog that wont to have play'd,
Plays not at all, but seems afraid ;
My sighs so deep',
Procure to weep,

In howling-wise, to see my doleful plight.
How sighs resound
Through heartless ground,

Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody fight!

Clear wells spring not,
Sweet birds sing not,
Green plants bring not

Forth their dye';
Herds stand weeping,
Flocks all sleeping,
Nymphs back peeping

Fearfully :
All our pleasure known to us poor swains,
All our merry meetings on the plains,
All our evening sport from us is filed;
All our love is lost, for love is dead.
Farewell, sweet lass,
Thy like ne'er was

9 My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal,] “Deal” is part, and “no deal” is therefore no part.-“ My shepherd's pipe cannot sound.”

1 My sighs so deep,] Both editions of “ The Passionate Pilgrim” have With for“ My,” which last not only is necessary for the sense, but is confirmed as the true reading by Weelkes' Madrigals, 1597. 2 Green plants bring not

Forth their dye ;) So both editions of the “ Passionate Pilgrim " and “ England's Helicon.” Malone preferred the passage as it stands in Weelkes' Madrigals :

“ Loud bells ring not

Cheerfully." But the variation was, perhaps, arbitrarily introduced for the sake of the music. Malone says, by mistake, that “ The Passionate Pilgrim” reads “ Forth : they die,” and modern editors have followed him in this error, not having consulted the old copies.

3 Farewell, sweet lass,] “ The Passionate Pilgrim” and “ England's Helicon” both have love for “lass,” which the rhyme shows to be the true reading, as it stands in Weelkes' Madrigals, 1597.

For a sweet content, the cause of all my moan* Poor Coridon Must live alone,

Other help for him I see that there is none.

XIX.

When as thine eye hath chose the dame', ,
And stall'd the deer that thou shouldst strike,
Let reason rule things worthy blame,
As well as partial fancy like :

Take counsel of some wiser head,
Neither too young, nor yet unwed.

And when thou com'st thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,
Lest she some subtle practice smell ;
A cripple soon can find a halt :

But plainly say thou lov'st her well,
And set thy person forth to sello.

What though her frowning brows be bent,
Her cloudy looks will clear ere night ;
And then too late she will repent
That thus dissembled her delight;

the cause of all my MOAN :) So “ England's Helicon” and Weelkes' Madrigals : “ The Passionate Pilgrim,” 1599, has woe for “moan.”

5 When as thine eye hath chose the dame,] In some modern editions, the stanzas of this poem have been given in an order different to that in which they stand in “ The Passionate Pilgrim,” 1599 : to that order we restore them, and that text we follow, excepting where it is evidently corrupt. The line,

“ As well as partial fancy like," we have corrected by a manuscript of the time. The edition of 1599 reads,

“ As well as fancy party all might,” which is decidedly wrong. Malone substituted

“ As well as fancy, partial tike.The manuscript by which we have corrected the fourth line of the stanza also gives the two last lines of it thus :

“ Ask counsel of some other head,

Neither unwise nor yet unwed.” But no change from the old printed copy is here necessary. In the manuscript the whole has the initials of Shakespeare's names at the end.

6 And set thy person forth to sell.] So the manuscript in our possession, and another that Malone used : the old copies read, with obvious corruption,

“ And set her person forth to sale."

And twice desire, ere it be day,
That which with scorn she put away.

What though she strive to try her strength,
And ban and brawl, and say thee nay,
Her feeble force will yield at length,
When craft hath taught her thus to say, —

“ Had women been so strong as men,

In faith you had not had it then."
And to her will frame all thy ways :
Spare not to spend, and chiefly there
Where thy desert may merit praise,
By ringing in thy lady's ear :

The strongest castle, tower, and town,

The golden bullet beats it down.
Serve always with assured trust,
And in thy suit be humble, true;
Unless thy lady prove unjust,
Seek never thou to choose a new.

When time shall serve, be thou not slack

To proffer, though she put thee back.
The wiles and guiles that women work,
Dissembled with an outward show,
The tricks and toys that in them lurk,
The cock that treads them shall not know.

Have you not heard it said full oft,

A woman's nay doth stand for nought! ?
Think, women still to strive with men
To sin, and never for to saint:
There is no heaven ; be holy then,
When time with age shall them attaint.

Were kisses all the joys in bed,
One woman would another wed.

But soft ! enough,—too much, I fear ;
Lest that my mistress hear my song,
She will not stick to warm my ear’,

? She will not stick to warm my ear,] So the manuscript in our possession : “ The Passionate Pilgrim," 1599, has it,

“ She will not stick to round me on th’ear," which cannot be right.

To teach my tongue to be so long :

Yet will she blush, here be it said,
To hear her secrets so bewray'd.

XX.

Live with me and be my love",
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
And the craggy mountain yields.

There will we sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

There will I make thee a bed of roses,
With a thousand fragrant posies ;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs ;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Then, live with me and be my love.

Love's ANSWER.

If that 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.

8 Live with me and be my love,] This poem, here incomplete, and what is called “ Love's Answer,” still more imperfect, may be seen at length in Percy's “Reliques,” vol. i. p. 237. They belong to Christopher Marlowe and Sir Walter Raleigh : the first is assigned by name to Marlowe in “ England's Helicon," 1600, (sign. A 2) and the last appears in the same collection, under the name of Ignoto, which was a signature sometimes adopted by Sir Walter Raleigh. They are, besides, assigned to both these authors in Walton's “ Angler ” (p. 149. edit. 1808) under the titles of " The milk-maid's song,” and “ The Milk-maid's Mother's answer.”

XXI.
As it fell upon a day'
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade,
Which a grove of myrtles made',
Beasts did leap and birds did sing,
Trees did grow and plants did spring ;
Every thing did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone :
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
Leand her breast up-till a thorn,
And there sung the dolefull'st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity.
Fie, fie, fie ! now would she cry;
Tereu, Tereu ! by and by ;
That to hear her so complain
Scarce I could from tears refrain,
For her griefs, so lively shown,
Made me think

upon

mine own.
Ah ! thought I, thou mourn'st in vain,
None takes pity on thy pain :
Senseless trees they cannot hear thee,
Ruthless bears they will not cheer thee.
King Pandion he is dead,
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead,
All thy fellow birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing”.

XXII.
Whilst as fickle fortune smild",
Thou and I were both beguild :

9 As it fell upon a day] This poem is contained in R. Barnfield's “Encomion of Lady Pecunia,” 1598. It is also inserted in “ England's Helicon," 1600, (H. 2) under the signature of Ignoto; but as Barnfield reprinted it as his in 1605, there can be little doubt that he was the author of it.

1 Which a grove of myrtles made,] Some modern editors state, that in “ England's Helicon,” 1600,“ grove” is printed group: the fact is otherwise ; the mistake having arisen from not consulting the original edition of that poetical miscellany : it is group in the reprint of “ England's Helicon” in 1812. ? Careless of thy sorrowing.) “ England's Helicon” here adds this couplet :

“ Even so, poor bird, like thee,

None alive will pity me.” 3 Whilst as fickle fortune smild,] This is the last poem in " The Passionate VOL. VIII.

P P

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