THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM. [The Passionate Pilgrim was first published by W. Jaggard in duodecimo, 1599, with our author's name. That volume contains several poems which, having been since identified as the production of other writers, have been omitted from the present edition of Shakspeare's works.] I. DID not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, If by me broke, what fool is not so wise II. Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook,* With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green, Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen. She told him stories to delight his ear; She show'd him favours to allure his eye; To win his heart, she touch'd him here and there: But whether unripe years did want conceit, The tender nibbler would not touch the bait, But smile and jest at every gentle offer: Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and toward; He rose and ran away; ah fool too froward! * Several of these sonnets seem to bave been essays of the author when he first conceived the idea of writing a poem on the subject of Venus and Adonis, and before the scheme of that poem was adjusted. III. If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? Which (not to anger bent) is music and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong, To sing the heavens' praise with such an earthly tongue. IV. Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn, And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade, A longing tarriance for Adonis made, A brook, where Adon used to cool his spleen. He spying her, bounced in, whereas he stood; V. Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle, Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty; A little pale, with damask dye to grace her, Her lips to mine how often hath she join'd, She burnt with love, as straw with fire flameth; * Where. She framed the love, and yet she foil'd the framing; Bad in the best, though excellent in neither. VI. Fair was the morn, when the fair queen of love, * * Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove,* See in my thigh," quoth she, "here was the sore:" VII. Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon faded, And falls, through wind, before the fall should be. I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have; O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee; VIII. Crabbed age and youth Youth is nimble, age is lame Youth is hot and bold, Age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and age is tame. * The line preceding this is lost. Age, I do abhor thee, O, my love, my love is young: O sweet shepherd, hie thee, For methinks thou stay'st too long. IX. Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good, A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, So beauty blemish'd once, for ever's lost, X. Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share: To descant on the doubts of my decay. 66 Farewell," quoth she," and come again to-morrow;" Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile, In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether:‡ XI. Lord, how mine eyes throw grazes to the east! Not daring trust the office of mine eyes, While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark, * Refuse, reject. † Put me off. ↑ Will not say which. Perhaps the poet, wishing for the approach of morning, enjoins the watch to hasten through their nocturnal duty. The night so dispatched, I hasten to my pretty one. Were I with her, the night would post too soon; To spite me now, each minute seems a moon;* Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now borrow; It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three,t Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest that eye could see, Long was the combat doubtful, that love with love did fight, Unto the silly damsel. But one must be refused, more mickle was the pain, That nothing could be used, to turn them both to gain, Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day, XIII. On a day (alack the day!‡) Playing in the wanton air, Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen, 'gan passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath: 66 Air," quoth he, "thy cheeks may blow; Air, would I might triumph so! But alas! my hand hath 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 Jove would swear * I. e. month. + This and the five following sonnets are said in the old copy to have been set to music. Mr. Oldys, in one of his MSS., says they were set by John and Thomas Morley. This sonnet is likewise found in a collection of verses entitled Eng. land's Helicon, printed in 1600; it is there called The Passionate Sheepheard's Song, and our author's name is affixed to it. It occurs also in Love's Labour's Lost, act iv. sc. iii. |