By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses,
And 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;
Fair linéd 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,
Come 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.

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But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.

THE PILGRIM.

GIVE me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon;
My scrip of joy, immortal diet;
My bottle of salvation;

My gown of glory (hope's true gange),
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
Blood must be my body's 'balmer,
Whilst my soul, a quiet Palmer,
Travelleth towards the land of Heaven;
No other balm will there be given.

Over the silver mountains,
Where spring the nectar fountains,
There will I kiss the bowl of bliss,
And drink mine everlasting fill
Upon every milken hill;
My soul will be a-dry before,
But after, it will thirst no more.
Then, by that happy, blissful day,

More peaceful pilgrims I shall see, That have cast off their rags of clay, And walk apparelled fresh, like me.

THE SOUL'S ERRAND. Go, soul, the body's guest, Upon a thankless errand! Fear not to touch the best, The truth shall be thy warrant : Go, since I needs must die, And give the world the lie.

Go, tell the court it glows,

And shines like rotten wood; Go, tell the church it shows What's good, and doth no good: If church and court reply, Then give them both the lie.

Tell potentates they live

Acting by others' actions;
Not loved unless they give,
Not strong but by their factions:
If potentates reply,
Give potentates the lie.

Tell men of high condition
That rule affairs of state,

bed;

A chamber deaf to noise and blind to

A poet's brain with finer store.

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He wrote of love with high conceit And beauty reared above her height.

may

The sacred ceremonies there partake, The which do endless matrimony make; And let the roaring organs loudly play The praises of the Lord, in lively notes, The whiles with hollow throats

The choristers the joyous anthems sing, That all the woods may answer, and their echo ring.

Behold whiles she before the altar stands,
Hearing the holy priest that to her speaks,
And blesses her with his two happy hands,
How red the roses flush up in her cheeks!
And the pure snow, with goodly vermeil
stain,

Like crimson dyed in grain,
That even the angels, which continually
About the sacred altar do remain,

Forget their service, and about her fly, Oft peeping in her face, that seems more fair

The more they on it stare;
But her sad eyes, still fastened on the
ground,

Are governed with goodly modesty,
That suffers not one look to glance awry,
Which may let in a little thought un-
sound.

Why blush ye, Love! to give to me your hand,

Sing, ye sweet angels! Alleluia sing, That all the woods may answer, and your echo ring.

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 a shady place;
Did never mortal eye behold such heav-
enly grace.

It fortunéd, out of the thickest wood,
A ramping lion rushéd suddenly,
Hunting full greedy after savage 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 assuagéd 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

THE HOUSE OF RICHES.

THAT house's form within was rude and strong,

Like an huge cave hewn out of rocky clift, From whose rough vault the ragged breaches hung

Embossed with massy gold of glorious gift,

And with rich metal loaded every rift, That heavy ruin they did seem to threat; And over them Arachne high did lift Her cunning web, and spread her subtle net,

Enwrapped in foul smoke and clouds more black than jet.

Both roof, and floor, and walls, were all of gold,

But overgrown with dust and old decay,

And hid in darkness, that none could

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