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There was no loss by law of kind,
That could have gone so near her heart;
Sith Nature thus gave her the praise,
To be the chiefest work she wrought;
On your behalf might well be sought,
Description of Spring, wherein each thing renews,
save only the Lover.
The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings,
With green hath clad the hill, and eke the vale; The nightingale, with feathers new, she sings,
The turtle to her mate hath told her tale.
Summer is come; for every spray now springs.
The hart hath hung his old head on the pale ; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings,
The fishes flete, with new repaired scale;
The adder all her slough away she flings;
The swift swallow pursueth the fies smale ; The busy bee, her honey now she mings;
Winter is worne, that was the flower's bale ::
And thus I see, among these pleasant things, Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs !
This poet (says Mr. Warton) was probably Thomas Lord
Vaux, son of Lord Nicholas. He was summoned to Parliament in 1531, and seems to have lived till the latter end of Queen Mary's reign. Two poems in Tottell's Collection, viz. “ The Assault of Cupid,” and that which begins “ I lothe that I did love,” (from whence three stanzas are quoted in the song of the grave-diggers in Hamlet) are
certainly his. Several of his pieces are also preserved in the “ Paradise of
The assault of Cupid upon the
fort, where the Lover's heart lay wounded, and how he was taken.
When Cupid scaled first the fort
my heart lay wounded sore,
That I must yield, or die therefore.
There saw I Love upon the wall,
How he his banner did display ; 6 Alarm! alarm !” he gan to call,
And bade his soldiers keep array,
The arms, the which that Cupid bare,
Were pierced hearts with tears besprent, In silver and sable, to declare
The stedfast love he always meant.
There might you see his band all dress’d,
In colours, like to white and black; With powder and with pellets, prest
To bring the fort to spoil and sack.
Good while, the master of the shot
Stood in the rampire, brave, and proud ; For 'spence of powder, he spared not
" Assault! assault !” to cry aloud.
There might you hear the cannons roar ;
Each piece discharged a lover's look; Which had the pow'r to rend, and tore
In any place whereas they took.
And even with the trumpet's sown?
The scaling-ladders were up set: And Beauty walked up and down,
With bow in hand, and arrows whet.
! Ready. » Sound.
Then first Desire began to scale,
And shrouded him under his targe, As one, the worthiest of them all,
And aptest for to give the charge.
Then pushed soldiers with their pikes,
And halberders, with handy strokes ; The hargabushe' in flash it lights,
And dims the air with misty smokes.
And as it is now soldiers use,
When shot and powder 'gins to want, I hanged up my flag of truce
And pleaded for my lifé's grant,
When Fancy thus had made her breach,
And Beauty enter'd with her band, With bag and baggage (silly wretch)
I yielded into Beauty's hand.
Then Beauty bade to blow retreat,
soldier to retire; And Mercy mild with speed to fet?
Me captive bound as prisoner.