But one must be refused, more mickle was the pain,

That nothing could be used, to turn them both to gain,
For of the two the trufty knight was wounded with difdain:
Alas fhe could not help it!

Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day,
Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away;
Then lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay;.
For now my fong is ended.

On a day (alack the day!)

XV.

Love, whose month was ever May,
Spy'd a bloffom paffing fair,
Playing in the wanton air,

Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unfeen, 'gan paffage find;
That the lover, fick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath:
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph fo!
But alas! my hand hath fworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet,
Youth, fo apt to pluck a fweet.

Do not call it fin in me,

That I am forfworn for thee;

Thou for whom even Jove would fwear
Juno but an Ethiope were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.

P

XVI.

My flocks feed not,
My ewes breed not,
My rams speed not,
All is amifs:

Love's denying,

Faith's defying,
Heart's renying,

Caufer of this.

All my merry jigs are quite forgot,
All my lady's love is loft, God wot:
Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love,

There a nay is plac'd without remove.
One filly cross

O frowning fortune, curfed, fickle dame ! For now I fee,

Inconftancy

More in women than in men remain.

In black mourn I,

All fears fcorn I,

Love hath forlorn me,
Living in thrall:
Heart is bleeding,
All help needing,

(O cruel fpeeding !)

Fraughted with gall.

My fhepherd's pipe can found no deal,

My wethers' bell rings doleful knell ;

My curtail dog that wont to have play'd,
Plays not at all, but feems afraid;

With fighs fo deep,

Procures to weep,

In howling-wife, to fee my doleful plight.

How fighs refound

Through heartless ground,

Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody fight!

Clear wells Ipring not,

Sweet birds fing not,

Green plants bring not
Forth; they die :
Herds ftand weeping,

Flocks all fleeping,

Nymphs back peeping

Fearfully.

All our pleasure known to us poor swains,
All our merry meetings on the plains,

All our evening sport from us is fled,
All our love is loft, for love is dead.
Farewel, fweet love,

Thy like ne'er was

For fweet content, the cause of all my moan: Poor Coridon

Muft live alone,

Other help for him I fee that there is none.

XVII.

When as thine eye hath chose the dame,

And ftall'd the deer that thou should'st strike,

Let reafon rule things worthy blame,

As well as fancy, partial might:
Take counsel of fome wiser head,

Neither too young, nor yet unwed.

And when thou com'ft thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,
Left she some subtle practice fmell;
(A cripple foon can find a halt :)
But plainly fay thou lov'st her well,
And set her person forth to fale.

What though her frowning brows be bent,
Her cloudy looks will calm ere night;
And then too late fhe will repent,
That thus diffembled her delight;

And twice defire, ere it be day,
That which with fcorn she put away,

What though she strive to try her strength,
And ban and brawl, and say thee nay,
Her feeble force will yield at length,
When craft hath taught her thus to say:
"Had women been fo ftrong as men,
In faith you had not had it then."

And to her will frame all thy ways;
Spare not to spend,—and chiefly there
Where thy defert may merit praise,
By ringing in thy lady's ear:

The strongest castle, tower, and town,
The golden bullet beats it down.

Serve always with affured truft,
And in thy fuit be humble, true;
Unless thy lady prove unjust,

Prefs never thou to choose anew:

When time shall serve, be thou not flack

To proffer, though she put thee back.

The wiles and guiles that women work,
Diffembled with an outward show,

The tricks and toys that in them lurk,
The cock that treads them fhall not know.
Have you not heard it faid full oft,
A woman's nay doth stand for nought?

Think women still to thrive with men,
To fin, and never for to faint:

There is no heaven, by holy then,
When time with age shall them attaint.
Were kiffes all the joys in bed,
One woman would another wed.

But foft; enough,-too much I fear,
Left that my mistress hear my fong;
She'll not stick to round me i' th' ear,
To teach my tongue to be fo long:
Yet will she blush, here be it said,.
To hear her fecrets fo bewray'd.

XVIII.

As it fell upon a day,

In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade

Which a grove of myrtles made,

Beasts did leap, and birds did fing,

Trees did grow, and plants did fpring:.
Every thing did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone:

She, poor bird, as all forlorn,

Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn,