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.
Ignoto (which has been followed in the subsequent editions) being, rather awkwardly, pasted over it. (See Ellis' Specimens of the Early English Poets.') To enable the reader to judge better of the merit of the Reply and imitation, I here subjoin Marlowe's original :
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.
'Come live with me, and be my love;
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, and hills, 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;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle,
Embroider'd 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;
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
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.
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."
‹ Shall I, like a hermit, dwell
On a rock or in a cell;
Calling home the smallest part
That is missing of my heart,
To bestow it where I may
Meet a rival every day?
If she undervalue me,
What care I how fair she be?
Were her tresses angel gold—
If a stranger may be bold,
Unrebuked, unafraid,
To convert them to a braid,
And with little more ado
Work them into bracelets too;
If the mine be grown so free,
What care I how rich it be?
Were her hand as rich a prize
As her pair of precious eyes-
If she lay them out to take
Kisses for good manner's sake,
And let every lover skip
From her hand unto her lip;
If she seem not chaste to me,
What care I how chaste she be?
No: she must be perfect snow
In effect, as well as show;
Warming, but as snow-balls do,
Not like fire by burning too:
But when she by change hath got
To her heart a second lot;
Then, if others share with me,
Farewell her--whate'er she be."
A VISION UPON THE FAIRY QUEEN.
(Prefixed to the First Edition of that Work.) *
Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay,
Within that temple where the vestal flame
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 sprite did tremble all for grief,
And cursed th' access of that celestial thief.
THE FAREWELL.t
Go Soul, the Body's guest,
Upon a thankless errand:
Fear not to touch the best;
The truth shall be thy warrant.
* The letter, by way of argument to explain Spenser's Poem, is addressed To the Right Noble and Valorous Sir Walter Ralegh.'
This very beautiful poem, glowing with moral pathos, is
Go, since I needs must die,
And give them all the lie.
Go tell the Court, it glows,
And shines like painted wood;
Go tell the Church, it shows
What's good, but does no good:
If Court and Church reply,
Give Court and Church the lie.
Tell Potentates, they live
Acting-but oh! their actions
Not loved, unless they give;
Nor strong, but by their factions.
If Potentates reply,
Give Potentates the lie.
Tell men of high condition,
That rule affairs of state,
Their purpose is ambition;
Their practice only hate:
And, if they do reply,
Then give them all the lie.
Tell those that have it most,
They beg for more by spending;
Who, in their greatest cost,
Seek nothing but commending:
And, if they make reply,
Spare not to give the lie.
Tell Zeal, it lacks devotion:
Tell Love, it is but lust:
Tell Time, it is but motion;
Tell Flesh, it is but dust:
usually stated to have been written by Ralegh the night before his execution: it had appeared, however, ten years before that event (somewhat differently expressed) in 'Davison's Rhapsody;' and is also to be found in a MS. Collection of Poems in the British Museum, dated 1596. It is printed, it may be added, among the works of Joshua Sylvester, fol. 1641.
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