'd bait.
A fortress foiled which Reason did defend,
A Siren song, a fever of the mind,
A maze wherein affection finds no end,
A raging cloud that runs before the wind;
A substance like the shadow of the sun,
A goal of grief for which the wisest run.
A quenchless fire, a nurse of trembling fear,
A path that leads to peril and mishap,
A true retreat of sorrow and despair,
An idle boy that sleeps in Pleasure's lap;
A deep distrust of that which certain seems,
A hope of that which Reason doubtful deems.
From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals_, 1598.
Farewell, my joy!
Adieu, my love and pleasure!
To sport and toy
We have no longer leisure.
Fa la la!
Farewell, adieu
Until our next consorting!
Sweet love, be true!
And thus we end our sporting.
Fa la la!
From JOHN DOWLAND's _Second Book of Songs or Airs_, 1600.
Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave and new,
Good pennyworths,--but money cannot move:
I keep a fair but for the Fair to view,--
A beggar may be liberal of love.
Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true,
The heart is true.
Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again,
My trifles come as treasures from my mind;
It is a precious jewel to be plain;
Sometimes in shell the orient'st pearls we find:
Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain!
Of me a grain!
Within this pack pins, points, laces, and gloves,
And divers toys fitting a country fair,
But my heart, wherein duty serves and loves,
Turtles and twins, court's brood, a heavenly pair--
Happy the heart that thinks of no removes!
Of no removes!
From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613).
Fire that must flame is with apt fuel fed,
Flowers that will thrive in sunny soil are bred:
How can a heart feel heat that no hope finds?
Or can he love on whom no comfort shines?
Fair, I confess there's pleasure in your sight;
Sweet, you have power, I grant, of all delight;
But what is all to me if I have none?
Churl that you are t'enjoy such wealth alone!
Prayers move the heavens but find no grace with you,
Yet in your looks a heavenly form I vi
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