Whose hidden virtues are not so unknown,
But lively dooms1 might gather at the first
Where beauty so her perfect seed hath sown
Of other graces follow needs there must.
Now certes, Garret,2 since all this is true,

That from above thy gifts are thus elect,
Do not deface them then with fancies new ;

Nor change of minds, let not the mind infect: But mercy 3 him, thy friend that doth thee serve, Who seeks alway thine honour to preserve.

PRISONED IN WINDSOR, HE RECOUNTETH HIS PLEASURE THERE PASSED.

So cruel prison how could betide, alas,

As proud Windsor, where I in lust and joy, With a king's son, my childish 5 years did pass, In greater feast than Priam's sons of Troy`: Where each sweet place returns a taste full sour: The large green courts, where we were wont to hove,6

With eyes cast up into the maidens' tower,

And easy sighs, such as folk draw in love; The stately seats, the ladies bright of hue ;

The dances short, long tales of great delight; With words and looks that tigers could but rue; Where each of us did plead the other's right; The palm-play, where, despoilèd for the game,

With dazed eyes oft we by gleams of love

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''Lively dooms :' persons of quick judgment.—2 Garret :' the Fitz-Geralds usually wrote their name Garret, and it seems that Geraldine was so called when in attendance on the Princess Mary. Mercy' used as a verb.— ''King's son:' the young Duke of Richmond, natural son to Henry VIII., see 'Life.'-5 Childish: ' in the sense of childe.'- Hove:' hover.-Rue: ' melt, cause to pity.- Palm-play :' ball, or tennis.

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Have miss'd the ball, and got sight of our dame,
To bait her eyes, which kept the leads above;
The gravell❜d ground, with sleeves tied on the helm,
On foaming horse, with swords and friendly hearts,
With chere,2 as though one should another whelm,
Where we have fought, and chasèd oft with darts; 20
With silver drops the mead yet spread for ruth;
In active games of nimbleness and strength,
Where we did strain, trained with swarms of youth,
Our tender limbs, that yet shot up in length;
The secret groves, which oft we made resound
Of pleasant plaint, and of our ladies' praise;
Recording oft what grace each one had found,
What hope of speed, what dread of long delays;
The wild forest, the clothed holts with green;

With reins availed, and swift ybreathed horse,
With cry of hounds, and merry blasts between,
Where we did chase the fearful hart of force;
The void walls eke, that harbour'd us each night:
Wherewith, alas! reviveth in my breast
The sweet accord, such sleeps as yet delight;

The pleasant dreams, the quiet bed of rest;
The secret thoughts, imparted with such trust;
The wanton 5 talk, the divers change of play;
The friendship sworn, each promise kept so just,

Wherewith we pass'd the winter night away.
And with this thought the blood forsakes the face;
The tears berain my cheeks of deadly hue:
The which, as soon as sobbing sighs, alas!

Up-suppèd have, thus I my plaint renew:

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The leads the ladies were ranged on the leads or battlements of the castle to see the play. Chere:' mien. — 3 'Availed:' lowered or slackened.-Force: The chase in which the game was run down, not stalked and shot, was called the chasse à forcer.—5' Wanton:' idle.

'Oh place of bliss! renewer of my woes!
Give me account, where is my noble fere?
Whom in thy walls thou dost each night enclose;
To other lief; but unto me most dear.'
Echo, alas! that doth my sorrow rue,

Returns thereto a hollow sound of plaint.
Thus I alone, where all my freedom grew,

In prison pine, with bondage and restraint : And, with remembrance of the greater grief To banish the less, I find my chief relief.

THE LOVER COMFORTETH HIMSELF WITH
THE WORTHINESS OF HIS LOVE.

1 WHEN raging love with extreme pain
Most cruelly distrains my heart;
When that my tears, as floods of rain,
Bear witness of my woful smart;
When sighs have wasted so my breath
That I lie at the point of death:

2 I call to mind the navy great

That the Greeks brought to Troy town:
And how the boisterous winds did beat

Their ships, and rent their sails adown ;
Till Agamemnon's daughter's blood
Appeased the gods that them withstood:

3 And how that in those ten years' war
Full many a bloody deed was done;
And many a lord that came full far,
There caught his bane, alas! too soon;

And many a good knight overrun,

Before the Greeks had Helen won.

Lief:' dear.

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4 Then think I thus: 'Sith such repair,
So long time war of valiant men,
Was all to win a lady fair,

Shall I not learn to suffer then?
And think my life well spent to be,
Serving a worthier wight than she?'

5 Therefore I never will repent,

But pains contented still endure;
For like as when, rough winter spent,

The pleasant spring straight draweth in ure,1

So after raging storms of care,

Joyful at length may be my fare.

COMPLAINT OF THE ABSENCE OF HER LOVER, BEING UPON THE SEA.

SUPPOSED TO REFER TO HIS LADY'S FEELINGS IN SURREY'S ABSENCE.

1 Он happy dames that may embrace
The fruit of your delight,

Help to bewail the woful case,

And eke the heavy plight,

Of me that wonted to rejoice

The fortune of my pleasant choice :

Good ladies help to fill my mourning voice.

2 In ship freight with remembrance

Of thoughts and pleasures past,
He sails that hath in governance

My life while it will last;

Ure:' supposed to come from the French heure. It means favourable fortune.

With scalding sighs, for lack of gale,
Furthering his hope, that is his sail,
Toward me, the sweet port of his availe.1

3 Alas! how oft in dreams I see
Those eyes that were my food;
Which sometime so delighted me
That yet they do me good:
Wherewith I wake with his return,

Whose absent flame did make me burn:
But when I find the lack, Lord! how I mourn.

4 When other lovers in arms across,

Rejoice their chief delight;
Drowned in tears to mourn my loss,
I stand the bitter night

In my window, where I may see
Before the winds how the clouds flee:
Lo! what mariner love hath made of me.

5 And in green waves when the salt flood
Doth rise by rage of wind,

A thousand fancies in that mood
Assail my restless mind.

Alas! now drencheth 2 my sweet foe,
That with the spoil of my heart did go,
And left me; but, alas! why did he so?

6 And when the seas wax calm again,
To chase from me annoy,

My doubtful hope doth cause me plain;
So dread cuts off my joy.

''Port of his availe :' port where he intends to lower his sails.—2 6 eth drowneth.

'Drench