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It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and

II

weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

CXLVI

Poor soul, the center of my sinful earth, Thrall to these rebel powers that thee array,

Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,

Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,5
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end?

Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,

And let that pine to aggravate thy store;10 Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; Within be fed, without be rich no more:

So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,

And Death once dead, there's no more dying then.

ELIZABETHAN SONG WRITERS

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips I love no roast but a nutbrown toast,
And a crab1 laid in the fire;

A little bread shall do me stead,
Much bread I not desire.

ANONYMOUS

BACK AND SIDE GO BARE, GO BARE

Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both hand and foot go cold;

But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,

Whether it be new or old.

I cannot eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;

But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothing a-cold;
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side, etc.

No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow, Can hurt me if it would,

I am so wrapt and throughly lapt
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side, etc.

Of this jolly good ale and old." Back and side, etc.

1 apple.

2 pass.

5

10

15

20

And Tib my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she, till ye may see

The tears run down her cheek;
Then doth she trowl2 to me the bowl
Even as a maltworm3 should,
And saith, "Sweetheart, I have take my
part

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'a tippler.

Now let them drink till they nod and I laugh not at another's loss;

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SIR EDWARD DYER (1550?-1607) MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS

My mind to me a kingdom is,

Such present joys therein I find That it excels all other bliss

That earth affords or grows by kind: Though much I want which most would have,

Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
No princely pomp, no wealthy store,
No force to win the victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,

No shape to feed a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall:
For why? My mind doth serve for all.

I see how plenty [surfeits] oft,

And hasty climbers soon do fall; I see that those which are aloft

IO

15

Mishap doth threaten most of all; They get with toil, they keep with fear: Such cares my mind could never bear. Content to live, this is my stay;

I seek no more than may suffice; I press to bear no haughty sway;

Look, what I lack my mind supplies: Lo, thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring. Some have too much, yet still do crave;25 I little have, and seek no more. They are but poor, though much they

have,

And I am rich with little store: They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; They lack, I leave; they pine, I live.

1 emptied.

20

I grudge not at another's pain; No worldly waves my mind can toss; My state at one doth still remain: fear no foe, I fawn no friend; I loathe not life, nor dread my end.

330

Some weigh their pleasure by their lust, Their wisdom by their rage of will; Their treasure is their only trust;

A cloaked craft their store of skill: But all the pleasure that I find Is to maintain a quiet mind.

Nor by deceit to breed offence: Thus do I live; thus will I die; Would all did so as well as I!

5 Ring out your bells, let mourning shows be spread;

My wealth is health and perfect ease; My conscience clear my chief defence; I neither seek by bribes to please,

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY (1554-1586)

LOVE IS DEAD

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That Love is dead?

His death-bed, peacock's folly;

His winding-sheet is shame;
His will, false-seeming holy;
His sole exec'tor, blame.

40

From so ungrateful fancy, From such a female franzie, From them that use men thus, Good Lord, deliver us!

45

Weep, neighbors, weep; do you not hear it said

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IO

15

Let dirge be sung, and trentals rightly read, For Love is dead;

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25

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Cupid and my Campaspe played
At cards for kisses; Cupid paid.
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother's doves and team of sparrows;
Loses them too; then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on's cheek (but none knows how);
With these the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin;
All these did my Campaspe win.
At last he set1 her both his eyes;
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O Love, has she done this to thee?
What shall, alas! become of me?

5

10

SPRING'S WELCOME

What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
O'tis the ravished nightingale.
"Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu," she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! who is't now we hear? 5
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gates she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
Poor robin redbreast tunes his note;
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing,
Cuckoo, to welcome in the spring;
Cuckoo, to welcome in the spring!
1 wagered.

10

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new,

Pray gods they change for worse!" 15 AMBO SIMUL.3 They that do change, etc. EN. Fair and fair, etc.

PAR. Fair and fair, etc.

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