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There didst thou vanquish shame and tedious age,

Grief, sorrow, sickness, and base fortune's might;

Thy rising day saw never woeful night, But passed with praise from off this worldly stage. Back to the camp by thee that day was brought,

First thine own death; and after, thy long fame;

Tears to the soldiers; the proud Castilian's shame; Virtue expressed, and honour truly taught. What hath he lost that such great grace hath won ?

Young years for endless years, and hope unsure

Of fortune's gifts for wealth that still shall dure: O happy race, with so great praises run ! England doth hold thy limbs, that bred the same;

Flanders thy valour, where it last was tried ;

The camp thy sorrow, where thy body died; Thy friends thy want; the world thy virtue's fame; Nations thy wit; our minds lay up thy love;

Letters thy learning; thy loss years long to come;

In worthy hearts sorrow hath made thy tomb; Thy soul and spright enrich the heavens above. Thy liberal heart embalmed in grateful tears,

Young sighs, sweet sighs, sage sighs, bewail thy


Envy her sting, and spite hath left her gall;
Malice herself a mourning garment wears.
That day their Hannibal died, our Scipio fell, -

Scipio, Cicero, and Petrarch of our time;

Whose virtues, wounded by my worthless rhyme, Let angels speak, and heaven thy praises tell.




ETHOUGHT I saw the grave where

Laura lay,
Within that temple where the vestal

Was wont to burn: and, passing by that way,

To see that buried dust of living fame,
Whose tomb fair Love and fairer Virtue kept,

All suddenly I saw the Fairy Queen,
At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept ;

And from thenceforth those graces were not seen, For they this Queen attended ; in whose stead

Oblivion laid him down on Laura's hearse. Hereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed, And groans of buried ghosts the heavens did

pierce : Where Homer's spright did tremble all for grief, And cursed the access of that celestial thief.


Appended to Spenser's “Fairy Queen,” books i.-iii., 1590, p. 596.




HE praise of meaner wits this work like

profit brings, As doth the cuckoo's song delight when

Philumena sings. If thou hast formed right true virtue's face herein, Virtue herself can best discern, to whom they

written bin. If thou hast beauty praised, let her sole looks

divine Judge if aught therein be amiss, and mend it by

her eine. If Chastity want aught, or Temperance her due, Behold her princely mind aright, and write thy

Queen anew. Meanwhile she shall perceive how far her virtues


Above the reach of all that live, or such as wrote

of yore:

And thereby will excuse and favour thy good will, Whose virtue cannot be expressed but by an angel's

quill. Of me no lines are loved nor letters are of price, Of all which speak our English tongue, but those

of thy device.

"From the same; signed W. R.



1. MARLOWE's Song.


(Before 1593.)

OME live with me, and be my love ;

And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,

Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies ;

cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered 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; 1 Dyce's “Marlowe,” iii. 299. An imperfect copy was printed in the “Passionate Pilgrim " in 1599, and it is quoted in the “ Merry Wives of Windsor," iji. 1. It was printed at length with Marlowe's name in “ England's Helicon," 1600; and also in Walton's “Complete Angler,” 1653, as“ that smooth song which was made by Kit Marlow, now at least fifty years ago." Marlowe died sixty years before, -in 1593.

A belt of straw and ivy-buds,
With coral clasps and amber-studs :
And if these pleasures may thee

Come love with me, and be my

The shepherd-swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning;
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with

and be




(Before 1599.)

F all 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.
But time drives flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,

Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. | The first verse was printed in the" Passionate Pilgrim” in 1599, and the whole in “ England's Helicon,'' 1600, where the signature is Ignoto. Also in Walton's “ Complete Angler," 1653, as "made by Sir Walter Raleigh in his younger days."

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