There was no loss by law of kind, That could have gone so near her heart; Sith Nature thus gave her the praise, 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, 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; Winter is worne, that was the flower's bale: And thus I see, among these pleasant things, i LORD VAUX. 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 Dainty Devices." 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 Wherein my heart lay wounded sore, The battery was of such a sort, That I must yield, or die therefore. There saw I Love upon the wall, 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; And even with the trumpet's sown 2 And Beauty walked up and down, Then first Desire began to scale, 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 life's grant, When Fancy thus had made her breach, Then Beauty bade to blow retreat, |