Think him to us, the wind blows fair, he's gone.
Witness Hypsipile, alike betray'd ;
Witness with her the bright Mynoyan maid:
Nay then yourself, as you yourself have spoken,
To fair Oenone have your promise broken.
Since I beheld your face first, my desire
Hath been, of Trojan Paris to enquire.
I know you now in every true respect,
I'll grant you thus much then, say you affect
Me (whom you term your own.) I'll go thus far ;
Do not the Phrygian mariners prepare
Their sails and oars, ev'n now whilst we recite
Exchange of words about the wished night?
Say that even now you were prepar'd to climb
My long-wish'd bed, just at the appointed time
The wind should alter, and blow fair for Troy,
You must break off, in midst of all your joy,
And leave me in the infancy of pleasure;
Amid my riches, I shall lose my treasure.
You will forsake the sweets my bed affords,
T'exchange for cabins, hatches and pitch'd boards.
Then what a fickle courtship you commence,
When, with the first wind, all your love blows hence?
But shall I follow you when you are gone,
And be the grandchild to Laomedon!
And Ilium see, whose beauty you proclaim?
I do not so despise the bruit of fame,
That she to whom I am in debt such thanks,
Should fill the earth with such adulterate pranks.
What will Achaia, what will Sparta say?
What will your Troy report, and Asia?
What my old Priam, or his reverend queen?
What may your sisters, having Helen seen,
Or your Dardanian brothers deem of me?
Will they not blame my loose inchastity?
Nay, how can you yourself faithful deem me,
And not amongst the loosest dames esteem me?
No stranger shall your Asian ports come near,
But he shall fill your guilty soul with fear.
How often, angry at some small offence,
Will you thus say; Adult'ress, get thee hence !
Forgetting you yourself have been the chief
In my transgression, tho' not in my grief.
Consider what it is, forgetful lover,
To be sin's author, and sin's sharp reprover.
But ere the least of all these ills betide me,
I wish the earth may in her bosom hide me.
But I shall all your Phrygian wealth possess,
And more than your epistle can express:
Gifts, woven gold, embroidery, rich attire,
Purple and plate, or what I can desire.
Yet give me leave, think you all this extends
To countervail the loss of my chief friends?
Whose friendship, or whose age shall I employ
To succour me, when I am wrong'd in Troy?
Or whether can I, having thus misdone,
Unto my father, or my brothers run ?
As much as you to me, false Jason swore
Unto Medea, yet from Æson's door
He after did exile her. Now, poor heart,
Where is thy father that should take thy part?
Old Etes or Calciope? Thou took'st
No aid from them, whom thou before forsook'st.
Or say thou didst (alas! they cannot hear
Thy sad complaint) yet I no such thing fear;
No more Medea did: good hopes engage
Themselves so far, they fail in their presage.
You see the ships that in the main are toss'd,
And many times by tempests wreck'd and lost,
Had, at their launching from the haven's mouth,
A smooth sea, and a calm gale from the south.
Besides, the brand your mother dreamt she bare,
The night before your birth, breeds me fresh care.
It prophecy'd, ere many years expire,
Inflamed Troy must burn with Greekish fire.
As Venus favours you, because she gain'd
A doubtful prize by you; yet the disdain'd
And vanquish'd goddesses, disgrac'd so late,
May bear you hard; I therefore fear their hate.
Nor make no question, but if I consort you,
And for a ravisher our Greece report you ;
War nill be wag'd with Troy, and you shall rue
The sword (alas!) your conquest shall pursue.
When Hypodamia, at her bridal feast,
Was rudely ravish'd by her Centaur guest;
Because the savages the bride durst seize,
War grew betwixt them and the Lapythes.
Or think you Menelaus hath no spleen?
Or that he hath not power to avenge his teen?
Or that old Tyndarus this wrong can smother?
Or the two famous twins, each lov'd of other?
So were your valour and rare deeds you boast,
And warlike spirits in which you triumph'd most;
By which you have attain'd 'mongst soldiers grace,
None will believe you, that but sees your face,
Your feature, and fair shape, is fitter far
For amorous courtships, than remorseless war.
Let rough-hew'd soldiers warlike dangers prove,
'Tis pity Paris should do ought, save love.
Hector (whom you so praise) for you may fight;
I'll find you war to skirmish every night,
Which shall become you better. Were I wise,
And bold withal, I might obtain the prize :
In such sweet single combats, hand to hand,
'Gainst which no woman that is wise will stand.
My champion I'll encounter breast to breast,
Tho' I were sure to fall, and be o'erprest.
If that you private conference intreat me,
I apprehend you, and you cannot cheat me:
I know the meaning, durst I yield thereto,
Of what you would confer, what you would do.
You are too forward, you too far would wade;
But yet (God knows) your harvest's in the blade.
My tired pen shall here its labour end;
A guilty sense in thievish lines I send.
Speak next when your occasion best persuades,
By Cymene and Athra my two maids.
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.
Live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasure prove,
That hills and vallies, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, by whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
There will I make thee beds of roses,
With a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers, and a girdle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw, and ivy buds,
With coral clasps, and amber studs.
And if these pleasures may thee move.
Then live with me and be my love.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing,
For thy delight each May morning.
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE SHEPHERD.
If that the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue;
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love.
Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb,
And all complain of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yield:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy bed of roses,
Thy cap, thy girdle, and thy posies;
Some break, some wither, some forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw, and ivy buds;
Thy coral clasps, and amber studs;
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee, and be thy love.
But could youth last, and love still breed;
Had joys no date, and age no need ;
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
ANOTHER OF THE SAME NATURE.
Come live with me, and be my dear,
And we will revel all the year
In plains and groves, on hills and dales,
Where fragrant air breathes sweetest gales.
There shall you have the beauteous pine,
The cedar, and the spreading vine,
And all the woods to be a skreen,
Lest Phœbus kiss my summer's queen.
The feast of your disport shall be,
Over some river, in a tree;
Where silver sands and pebbles sing
Eternal dities to the spring.
There you shall see the nymphs at play,
And how the satyrs spend the day;
The fishes gliding on the sands,
Offering their bellies to your hands;
The birds, with heavenly-tuned throats,
Possess woods echoes with sweet notes;
Which to your senses will impart
A music to inflame the heart.
Upon the bare and leafless oak,
The ring-doves' wooings will provoke
A colder blood than you possess,
To play with me, and do no less.
In bowers of laurel trimly dight,
We will outwear the silent night,
While Flora busy is to spread
Her richest treasure on our bed.
The glow-worms shall on you attend,
And all their sparkling lights shall spend;
All to adorn and beautify
Your lodging with most majesty :
Then in my arms will I inclose
Lilies' fair mixture with the rose;
Whose nice perfections in love's play,
Shall tune me to the highest key.
Thus as we pass the welcome night
In sportful pleasures and delight,
The nimble fairies on the grounds
Shall dance and sing melodious sounds.
If these may serve for to entice,
Your presence to love's paradise ;
Then come with me, and be my dear,
And we will straight begin the year.
Take, O! take those lips away,
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