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LVII.

Hold out, my heart, with joy's delights accloy'd,

Hold out, my heart, and show it,

That all the world may know it;

What sweet content thou lately hast enjoy'd.

She that Come dear would say,

Then laugh and run away;

And if I stay'd her, thus would cry,

Nay, fie, for shame! for shame, nay, fie!

My true love not regarding;

Hath given my love at length its full rewarding. So that unless I tell the joys that overfill me,

My joys kept in I know in time will kill me.

A coquettish nymph is here well described, but Sir W. Raleigh takes a much more concise view, and comprises the matter in two lines:

"The lass saith no, yet would full fain;
"And this is love, as I hear say'n."

Several reminiscences will doubtless occur to the classic reader, such as the "gratus puellæ risus ab angulo” of Horace,

"The laugh that from the corner flies."

Or the lady described by Ovid in his Art of Love,

"Pugnabit primo fortassis, et, improbe, dicet."

"Struggling perhaps she 'll cry, nay don't be rude ;"

whilst all the time, (as Pope beautifully imitates Virgil in one of his pastorals,)

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.................................. a kind glance at her pursuer flies,
"How much at variance are her feet and eyes!"

LVIII.

Blow, Shepherds, blow your pipes,
With gladsome glee resounding:
See where the fair Eliza comes

With love and heavenly grace abounding.

Run, nymphs, apace; go meet her;
With flow'rs and garlands goodly greet her:
All hail! Eliza fair, the country's Goddess;

Long may'st thou live, the shepherd's Queen and Mistress.

This is in truth what Touchstone, in As you Like it, calls "the very false gallop of verses, the true butterwoman's "rate to market." What a precious collection would be all the trash written in praise of Fair Eliza !

LIX.

Thyrsis, O let soft pity move thee;

Thy Cloris, well thou know'st, too well doth love thee.
Unkind! why dost thou fly me?

I faint, alas! here must I lie me.

Cry then for grief, since hope is now bereft thee.
Up hill, down dale, thou seest I have not left thee.
Cannot these trickling tears of mine procure love?
What shepherd ever yet kill'd nymph for pure love?
Ah! see, the beasts their tears they do award me,
But thou, more cruel far, dost not regard me!

LX.

Where art thou, wanton?

And I so long have sought thee;
See where thy true love

His heart to keep hath brought thee.

Oh! why then dost thou hide thee?

Still I follow thee

But thou fliest from me.

Stay, unkind, and do no more deride me.

LXI.

Do you not know how Love first lost his seeing?

Because with me once gazing

On those fair eyes, where all powers have their being ;

She with her beauty blazing,

Which death might have revived,

Him of his sight, me of my heart deprived.

LXII.

Say, dear, will you not have me?
Then take the kiss you gave me.
Elsewhere you would perhaps bestow it:
And I should be as loath to owe it.

Or if you will not take the thing once given,
Let me kiss you, and so we shall be even.

LXIII.

Arise, get up, my dear; make haste, begone thee:
Lo! where the bride, fair Daphne, tarries on thee.
Hark! yon merry maidens squealing

Spice-cakes and sops-in-wine are dealing.

Then run apace

And get a bride-lace,

And gilt rosemary* branch, the while there yet is catching;

And then hold fast, for fear of old snatching.

Alas! my dear, why weep ye?

Fear not, dear love, the next day keep we.

List, yon minstrels; hark, how fine they firk it,

And how the maidens jerk it;

With Kate and Will,

Tom and Gill,

Now a skip,

Then a trip,

Finely fet aloft,

There again as oft:

Hey ho brave holiday,

All for Daphne's wedding day.

As a graphic description this is far inferior to the old Scottish Ballad, " Fy let us a' to the Bridal," (as indeed

* An emblem of remembrance.

"Rosemarie is for remembrance

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"Between us day and night,
Wishing that I might always have
"You present in my sight."

Handful of Pleasant Delights, 1584.

Ophelia likewise says to Hamlet,

"There's Rosemary, that's for remembrance;

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'Pray you, love, remember."

may be said generally of all humorous English ditties compared with those of Caledonia). The spice-cakes and sopsin-wine of the one, are poor substitutes for the sowans to sup till ye rive of the other; and all the firking and jerking, skipping and tripping, do not convey so powerful an idea of the love of dancing, as does the resolution of the guests at the Scottish ceremony,

"When weary with eating and drinking,

"We'll rise up and dance till we die;"

nor is the boisterous mirth at all comparable to that in the "Bridal of Moorland Willie :"

"Sic hirdum dirdum and sic din,

"Wi' he o'er her, and she o'er him, "The minstrels they did never blin

"Wi mickle mirth and glee.

"They becket, they bobbit, they danc'd like daft,
"And lasses skirl'd, and grandames laught."

It is nevertheless a lively picture of a country wedding. During the ceremony, I warrant you there were no faintingfits, real or sham; no petty larceny faces, as though the parties were standing at the bar of the Old Bailey; and yet, mayhap, more real reverence than may be witnessed at the altar of a certain fashionable church, not many hundred miles from Hanover Square. Then, after the knot was tied, no hurrying away in post-chariots and four, as is now the custom, leaving the ill-assorted company to their déjeuner à la fourchette, which is eaten as uncomfortably and with as great solemnity as if some

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"Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables."

No, no, all was fun and frolic, mirth and glee. "The bride

being attired in a gown of sheep's russet, and a kirtle of "fine worsted, attired with abillement of gold, and her hair

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