That valleys, groves, or hill, or field,
Or woods and steepy mountains yield;
Where we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses,
And then a thousand fragrant posies,
A 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;
Slippers, lined choicely 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,
Come live with me and be my love.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon 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.

What should we talk of dainties, then,
Of better meat than's fit for men?
These are but vain: that's only good
Which God hath bless'd and sent for food.

UNA AND THE LION.

ONE day, nigh weary of the irksome way, From her unhasty beast she did alight; And on the grass her dainty limbs did lay In secret shadow, far from all men's sight; From her fair head her fillet she undight, And laid her stole aside: her angel's face, As the great eye of Heaven, shined bright,

And made a sunshine in the shady place; Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace.

It fortunéd, out of the thickest wood
A ramping lion rushéd suddenly,
Hunting full greedy after salvage blood:
Soon as the royal virgin he did spy,
With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,
To have at once devoured her tender

corse :

But to the prey when as he drew more nigh,

His bloody rage assuaged with remorse, And, with the sight amazed, forgot his furious force.

Instead thereof he kissed her weary feet, And licked her lily hands with fawning tongue;

As he her wrongéd innocence did weet.
O how can beauty master the most strong,
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong!
Whose yielded pride and proud submis-
sion,

Still dreading death, when she had marked long,

Her heart 'gan melt in great compassion; And drizzling tears did shed for pure affection.

"The lion, lord of every beast in field," Quoth she, "his princely puissance doth abate,

And mighty proud to humble weak does yield,

Forgetful of the hungry rage, which late
Him pricked, in pity of my sad estate :-
But he, my lion, and my noble lord,
How does he find in cruel heart to hate
Her, that him lov'd, and ever most adored
As the god of my life? why hath he me
abhorred?"

Redounding tears did choke th' end of her plaint,

Which softly echoed from the neighbour wood;

And, sad to see her sorrowful constraint, The kingly beast upon her gazing stood; With pity calmed, down fell his angry mood.

At last, in close heart shutting up her pain,

Arose the virgin born of heavenly brood,
And to her snowy palfrey got again,
To seek her strayed champion if she might
attain.

The lion would not leave her desolate, But with her went along, as a strong guard

Of her chaste person, and a faithful mate Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard: Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward;

And, when she waked, he waited diligent, With humble service to her will prepared: From her fair eyes he took commandé

ment,

And ever by her looks conceived her intent.

SWEET IS THE ROSE.

SWEET is the rose, but grows upon a brere ;

Sweet is the juniper, but sharp his bough; Sweet is the eglantine, but pricketh near; Sweet is the firbloom, but his branches rough;

Sweet is the cyprus, but his rind is tough; Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill; Sweet is the broom flower, but yet sour

enough;

And sweet is moly, but his root is ill;
So, every sweet, with sour is tempered
still,

That maketh it be coveted the more:
For easy things that may be got at will
Most sorts of men do set but little

store.

Why then should I account of little pain, That endless pleasure shall unto me

gain?

THE RED CROSS KNIGHT.

A GENTLE knight was pricking on the plain,

Yclad in mighty arms and silver shield, Wherein old dints of deep wounds did remain,

The cruel marks of many a bloody field; Yet arms till that time did he never wield: His angry steed did chide his foaming bit, As much disdaining to the curb to yield: Full jolly knight he seem'd, and fair did sit, As one for knightly guists and fierce encounters fit.

And on his breast a bloody cross he bore, The dear remembrance of his dying Lord, For whose sweet sake that glorious badge

he wore,

Right, faithful, true he was in deed and word:

But of his cheer did seem too solemn sad:

THE SEASONS.

So forth issued the Seasons of the year; First lusty Spring, all dight in leaves and flowers

That freshly budded, and new blossoms did bear,

In which a thousand birds had built their bowers,

That sweetly sung to call forth paramours; And in his hand a javelin he did bear, And on his head (as fit for warlike stours)

A gilt engraven morion he did wear, That as some did him love, so others did him fear.

Then came the jolly Summer, being dight

In a thin silken cassock coloured green That was unlined all, to be more light, And on his head a garland well beseen He wore, from which, as he had chafed been,

The sweat did drop, and in his hand he bore

Upon a great adventure he was bond,
That greatest Gloriana to him gave,
That greatest glorious Queen of Faery
Lond)

To win him worship, and her grace to have,

Which of all earthly things he most did

crave.

Then came the Autumn, all in yellow clad,

As though he joyed in his plenteous store, Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad

That he had banished Hunger, which to. fore

THE HERMITAGE.

A LITTLE lowly hermitage it was,
Down in a dale, hard by a forest's side,
Far from resort of people that did pass
In travel to and fro: a little wide
There was an holy chapel edifyde,
Wherein the hermit duly wont to say
His holy things each morn and eventide,
Thereby a crystal stream did gently play,
Which from a sacred fountain welled forth
alway.

With ears of corn of every sort, he bore,
And in his hand a sickle he did hold,
To reap the ripened fruits the which the
earth had yold.

With which his feeble steps he stayed still,

For he was faint with cold and weak with eld

That scarce his loosed limbs he able was to weld.

THE TRUE WOMAN. THRICE happy she that is so well assur'd Unto herself, and settled so in heart, That neither will for better be allur'd, Ne fears to worse with any chance to start,

But like a steady ship doth strongly part The raging waves, and keeps her course aright;

Ne ought for tempest doth from it depart, Ne ought for fairer weather's false delight. Such self-assurance need not fear the spight

Of grudging foes, ne favour seek of friends;

But in the stay of her own stedfast might, Neither to one herself or other bends. Most happy she that most assur'd doth rest,

But he most happy who such one loves best.