HARPALUS' COMPLAINT OF PHILLIDA'S LOVE BESTOWED ON

CORIN, WHO LOVED HER NOT, AND DENIED HIM THAT LOVED
HER.

1 Phillida was a fair maid,
As fresh as any flower;

Whom Harpalus the herdman pray'd
To be his paramour.

2 Harpalus, and eke Corin,

Were herdmen both yfere:1
And Phillida would twist and spin,
And thereto sing full clear.

3 But Phillida was all too coy
For Harpalus to win;
For Corin was her only joy,
Who forced her not a pin.

4 How often would she flowers twine,
How often garlands make
Of cowslips and of columbine,
And all for Corin's sake!

5 But Corin he had hawks to lure,
And forced more the field:
Of lovers' law he took no cure;
For once he was beguiled.

6 Harpalus prevailed nought,

His labour all was lost;

For he was furthest from her thought,
And yet he loved her most.

1Yfere:' together.-Forced :' cared for.

7 Therefore was he both pale and lean,
And dry as clod of clay:

His flesh it was consumed clean;

His colour gone away.

8 His beard it not long be shave;
His hair hung all unkempt:
A man most fit even for the grave,
Whom spiteful love had shent.1

9 His eyes were red, and all forwacht; 2
His face besprent with tears:

It seem'd unhap had him long hatcht,
In midst of his despairs.

10 His clothes were black, and also bare;
As one forlorn was he;
Upon his head always he ware
A wreath of willow tree.

11 His beasts he kept upon the hill,
And he sat in the dale;

And thus with sighs and sorrows shrill
He 'gan to tell his tale.

12 O Harpalus!' thus would he say;
'Unhappiest under sun!

The cause of thine unhappy day
By love was first begun.

13 For thou went'st first by suit to seek
A tiger to make tame,

VOL. I.

That sets not by thy love a leek,
But makes thy grief a game.

1 'Shent:' spoiled.-2 Forwacht:' from much watching.

14 As easy it were for to convert The frost into the flame;

As for to turn a froward hert,

Whom thou so fain wouldst frame.

15 Ccrin he liveth careless:

He leaps among the leaves:

He eats the fruits of thy redress:

Thou reap'st, he takes the sheaves.

16 My beasts, a while your food refrain, And hark your herdman's sound; Whom spiteful love, alas! hath slain, Through girt with many a wound.

17 O happy be ye, beastës wild,
That here your pasture takes:
I see that ye be not beguiled
Of these your faithful makes.1

18 The hart he feedeth by the hind:
The buck hard by the doe:

The turtle-dove is not unkind
To him that loves her so.

19 The ewe she hath by her the ram:
The young cow hath the bull:
The calf with many a lusty lamb
Do feed their hunger full.

20 'But, well-a-way! that nature wrought Thee, Phillida, so fair:

For I may say that I have bought
Thy beauty all too dear.

1 Makes:' mates.

21 What reason is that cruelty With beauty should have part? Or else that such great tyranny

Should dwell in woman's heart?

22 'I see therefore to shape my death She cruelly is prest,1

To the end that I may want my breath:
My days be at the best.

23 O Cupid, grant this my request,
And do not stop thine ears:
That she may feel within her breast
The pains of my despairs:

24 Of Corin that is careless,

That she may crave her fee:
As I have done in great distress,
That loved her faithfully.

25 'But since that I shall die her slave,
Her slave, and eke her thrall,
Write you, my friends, upon my grave
This chance that is befall:

26"Here lieth unhappy Harpalus,
By cruel love now slain:
Whom Phillida unjustly thus
Hath murder'd with disdain.”

1 Prest:' ready.

A PRAISE OF HIS LADY.

1 Give place, you ladies, and begone,
Boast not yourselves at all,
For here at hand approacheth one
Whose face will stain you all.

2 The virtue of her lively looks
Excels the precious stone;

I wish to have none other books
To read or look upon.

3 In each of her two crystal eyes
Smileth a naked boy;

It would you all in heart suffice
To see that lamp of joy.

4 I think Nature hath lost the mould
Where she her shape did take;
Or else I doubt if Nature could
So fair a creature make.

5 She may be well compared
Unto the phoenix kind,

Whose like was never seen nor heard,
That any man can find.

6 In life she is Diana chaste,
In truth Penelope;

In word, and eke in deed, steadfast;
What will you more we say?

7 If all the world were sought so far,
Who could find such a wight?
Her beauty twinkleth like a star
Within the frosty night.