SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS.

I.

*

TAKE, oh, take those lips away,*
That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.
Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
On whose tops the pinks that grow,
Are of those that April wears.
But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those icy chains by thee.

II.

LET the bird of loudest lay,t
On the sole Arabian tree,‡
Herald sad and trumpet be,

To whose sound chaste wings obey.

*This little poem is not printed in The Passionate Pilgrim, probably because it was not written so early as 1599. The first stanza of it is introduced in Measure for Measure. In Fletcher's Bloody Brother it is found entire. Whether the second stanza was also written by Shakspeare cannot now be ascertained. All the songs, however, introduced in our author's plays, appear to have been his own composition; and the present contains an expression ("Seals of love, but seal'd in vain ") of which he seems to have been peculiarly fond.

In 1601, a book was published entitled "Love's Martyr, or Rosalin's Complaint, Allegorically shadowing the Truth of Love, in the constant Fate of the Phoenix and Turtle. A Poem enterlaced with much Varietie and Raritie; now first translated out of the venerable Italian Torquato With the true Legend of famous King Cæliano, by Robert Chester. Arthur, the last of the nine Worthies; being the first Essay of a new To these British Poet: collected out of diverse authentical Records. are added some new Compositions of several modern Writers, whose names are subscribed to their severall Workes; upon the first Subject, viz. the Phoenix and Turtle." Among these new compositions is the following poem, subscribed with our author's name.

"Now I will believe

That there are unicorns; that in Arabia

There is one tree, the phoenix' throne; one phoenix

At this hour reigning there."-Tempest.

But thou shrieking harbinger,
Foul pre-currer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever's end,*

To this troop come thou not near.
From this session interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle, feather'd king:
Keep the obsequy so strict.
Let the priest in surplice white,
That defunctive music can,t
Be the death-divining swan,
Lest the requiem lack his right.
And thou, treble-dated crow,
That thy sable gender mak'st
With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st,
'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
Here the anthem doth commence :-
Love and constancy is dead;
Phoenix and the turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.
So they loved, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none:
Number there in love was slain.

Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
Distance, and no space was seen
"Twixt the turtle and his queen:
But in them it were a wonder.§
So between them love did shine,
That the turtle saw his right ||
Flaming in the phoenix' sight:
Either was the other's mine.
Property was thus appall❜d,

That the self was not the same; T
Single nature's double name
Neither two nor one was call'd.

*The screech-owl.

so there is no more number, only with

+ For con; i. e. knows, understands tune, real music.

I suppose this expression means, that the crow, or raven, continues its race by the breath it gives to them as its parent, and by that which it takes from other animals, i. e. by first producing its young from itself, and then providing for their support by depredation.

§ I. e. So extraordinary a phenomenon as hearts remote, yet not asunder, &c., would have excited astonishment anywhere else except in these two birds.

I. e. the turtle saw those qualities which were his right, which were peculiarly appropriated to him, in the phoenix.

I. e. this communication of appropriated qualities alarmed the power that presides over property. Finding that the self was not the same, he began to fear that nothing would remain distinct and individual; that all things would become common.

Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together;
To themselves yet either-neither,
Simple were so well compounded;
That it cried, how true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one!
Love hath reason, reason none,
If what parts can so remain.*
Whereupon it made this threnet
To the phoenix and the dove,
Co-supremes and stars of love;
As chorus to their tragic scene.

THRENOS.

Beauty, truth, and rarity
Grace in all simplicity,

Here inclosed in cinders lie.

Death is now the phoenix' nest;
And the turtle's loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,
Leaving no posterity:-
"Twas not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.
Truth may seem, but cannot be;
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.

To this urn let those repair
That are either true or fair;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.

III.

PEDLAR'S SONG.I

FROM the far Lavinian shore,
I your markets come to store;
Muse not, though so far I dwell,
And my wares come here to sell;

* Love is reasonable, and reason has no reason, if two that are disunited from each other, can yet remain together and undivided.

+ This funeral song.

+ "These verses, which would form a very appropriate song for Autolycus, were arranged as a glee for three voices, by Dr. Wilson, about the year 1667. They are published in Playford's Musical Companion in 1673; in Warren's Collection of Glees and Catches, and in S. Webbe's Convito Harmonico. The words were, I believe, first ascribed to Shakspeare by Clark, in 1824, in his Words of Glees, Madrigals, &c.; but he has not given his authority for so doing. It is stated, however, that they have since

Such is the sacred hunger for gold.
Then come to my pack,
While I cry
"What d'ye lack,

What d'ye buy?

For here it is to be sold."

I have beauty, honour, grace,
Fortune, favour, time, and place,
And what else thou wouldst request,
E'en the thing thou likest best;

First let me have but a touch of your gold.
Then come to me, lad,

Thou shalt have

What thy dad

Never gave;

For here it is sold.

Madam, come, see what you lack,

I've complexions in my pack;

White and red you may have in this place,

To hide your old and wrinkled face.

First let me have but a touch of your gold,

Then you shall seem

Like a girl of fifteen,

Although you be threescore and ten years old.

been discovered in a common-place book, written about Shakspeare's time, with his name attached to them, and with this indirect evidence in favour of their being written by him, that the other pieces in the collection are attributed to their proper writers, Mr. Dance was induced to consider the song to have been written by Shakspeare."-Notes and Queries, Nov. 10, 1849.

A LOVER'S COMPLAINT.

This poem was first printed in 1609, with our author's name, at the end of the 4to. edition of his Sonnets.]

FROM off a hill whose concave womb re-worded*

A plaintful story from a sistering vale,

My spirits to attend this double voice accorded,
And down I lay to list the sad-tuned tale:
Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale,
Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,
Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain.†
Upon her head a platted hive of straw,
Which fortified her visage from the sun,
Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw
The carcase of a beauty spent and done.
Time had not scythed all that youth begun,

**

Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage,
Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age.
Oft did she heave her napkin‡ to her eyne,
Which on it had conceited characters, §
Laundring|| the silken figures in the brine
That season'd woe had pelleted in tears, T
And often reading what contents it bears;
As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe,
In clamours of all size, both high and low.
Sometimes her levell'd eyes their carriage ride,*
As they did battery to the spheres intend;
Sometime diverted++ their poor balls are tied
To the orbed earth; sometimes they do extend
Their view right on; anon their gazes lend
To every place at once, and nowhere fix'd,
The mind and sight distractedly commix'd.
Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat,
Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride;
For some, untuck'd, descended her sheaved hat,‡‡
Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside;
Some in their threaden fillet still did bide,

And, true to bondage, would not break from thence,
Though slackly braided in loose negligence.

* Re-echoed.

† I. e. sighs and tears.

Fanciful images. I Washing. **The allusion is to a piece of ordnance. †† Turned from their former direction.

+ Handkerchief. ¶ Made into round tears.

+ Her straw hat.