XIV. SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, 1554-1586. MY A DITTY. Y true love hath my heart, and I have his, His heart in me keeps him and me in one, My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides: He loves my heart, for once it was his own, I cherish his because in me it abides. My true love hath my heart, and I have his. R1 XV. ASTROPHEL'S LOVE IS DEAD. ING out your bells, let mourning shews be spread, All love is dead infected With plague of deep disdain : Worth as nought worth rejected, And faith fair scorn doth gain. From such a female frenzy, From them that use men thus: Good Lord deliver us. Weep neighbours weep, do you not hear it said His death-bed peacocks folly, From such a female frenzy, From them that use me thus: Good Lord deliver us. Let dirge be sung, and trentals richly read, And wrong his tomb ordaineth, My mistress' marble heart: Which epitaph containeth, Her eyes were once his dart. From so ungrateful fancy, From such a female frenzy, From them that use men thus: Good Lord deliver us. Alas! I lie, rage hath this error bred, Love is not dead, but sleepeth Good Lord deliver us. XVI. HENRY CONSTable, 1555?-1615? DAMELUS' SONG TO HIS DIAPHENIA. IAPHENIA like the daffadowndilly, White as the sun, fair as the lily, Heigh-ho, how I do love thee! I do love thee as my lambs Are beloved of their dams, How blest were I if thou would'st prove me! Diaphenia like the spreading roses, That in thy sweets all sweets incloses, Loves the sun's life-giving power. For dead, thy breath to life might move me. Diaphenia like to all things blessed, Dear joy, how I do love thee ! Or the bees their careful king; Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me. XVII THOMAS LODGE, 1557?-1625? MADRIGAL. HE earth late choked with showers THE Is now arrayed in green; Her bosom springs with flowers, The air dissolves her teen, The heavens laugh at her glory : Yet bide I sad and sorry. The woods are decked with leaves, And Flora crowned with sheaves With oaken boughs doth play : Where I am clad in black, The token of my wrack. The birds upon the trees Do sing with pleasant voices, And chant in their degrees Their loves and lucky choices: |