by Henry Howard
Whoso enjoys it most,
A thousand troubles grow,
To vex his wearied ghost.
And last it may not long;
The truest thing of all: 30
And sure the greatest wrong,
That is within this thrall.
But since thou, desert place,
Canst give me no account
Of my desired grace, 35
That I to have was wont;
Farewell! thou hast me taught,
To think me not the first
That love hath set aloft,
And casten in the dust. 40
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The Lover describeth his restless State
AS oft as I behold, and see
The sovereign beauty that me bound;
The nigher my comfort is to me,
Alas! the fresher is my wound.
As flame doth quench by rage of fire, 5
And running streams consume by rain;
So doth the sight that I desire
Appease my grief, and deadly pain.
Like as the fly that see’th the flame,
And thinks to play her in the fire; 10
That found her woe, and sought her game
Where grief did grow by her desire.
First when I saw those crystal streams,
Whose beauty made my mortal wound;
I little thought within their beams 15
So sweet a venom to have found.
But wilful will did prick me forth,
Blind Cupid did me whip and guide;
Force made me take my grief in worth;
My fruitless hope my harm did hide; 20
Wherein is hid the cruel bit,
Whose sharp repulse none can resist;
And eke the spur that strains each wit
To run the race against his list.
As cruel waves full oft be found 25
Against the rocks to roar and cry;
So doth my heart full oft rebound
Against my breast full bitterly.
And as the spider draws her line,
With labour lost I frame my suit; 30
The fault is her’s, the loss is mine:
Of ill sown seed, such is the fruit.
I fall, and see mine own decay;
As he that bears flame in his breast,
Forgets for pain to cast away 35
The thing that breedeth his unrest.
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The Lover excuseth himself of suspected Change
THOUGH I regarded not
The promise made by me;
Or passed not to spot
My faith and honesty:
Yet were my fancy strange, 5
And wilful will to wite,
If I sought now to change
A falcon for a kite.
All men might well dispraise
My wit and enterprise, 10
If I esteemed a pese
Above a pearl in price:
Or judged the owl in sight
The sparhawk to excel;
Which flieth but in the night, 15
As all men know right well.
Or if I sought to sail
Into the brittle port,
Where anchor hold doth fail
To such as do resort; 20
And leave the haven sure,
Where blows no blustering wind;
No fickleness in ure,
So far-forth as I find.
No! think me not so light, 25
Nor of so churlish kind,
Though it lay in my might
My bondage to unbind,
That I would leave the hind
To hunt the gander’s foe. 30
No! no! I have no mind
To make exchanges so.
Nor yet to change at all;
For think, it may not be
That I should seek to fall 35
From my felicity.
Desirous for to win,
And loth for to forego;
Or new change to begin;
How may all this be so? 40
The fire it cannot freeze,
For it is not his kind;
Nor true love cannot lese
The constance of the mind.
Yet as soon shall the fire 45
Want heat to blaze and burn;
As I, in such desire,
Have once a thought to turn.
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A careless Man scorning and describing the subtle Usage of Women toward their Lovers
WRAPT in my careless cloak, as I walk to and fro,
I see how love can shew what force there reigneth in his bow:
And how he shooteth eke a hardy heart to wound;
And where he glanceth by again, that little hurt is found.
For seldom is it seen he woundeth hearts alike; 5
The one may rage, when t’other’s love is often far to seek.
All this I see, with more; and wonder thinketh me
How he can strike the one so sore, and leave the other free.
I see that wounded wight that suff’reth all this wrong,
How he is fed with yeas and nays, and liveth all too long. 10
In silence though I keep such secrets to myself,
Yet do I see how she sometime doth yield a look by stealth,
As though it seem’d; ‘I wis, I will not lose thee so:’
When in her heart so sweet a thought did never truly grow.
Then say I thus: ‘Alas! that man is far from bliss, 15
That doth receive for his relief none other gain but this.’
And she that feeds him so, I feel and find it plain,
Is but to glory in her power, that over such can reign.
Nor are such graces spent, but when she thinks that he,
A wearied man, is fully bent such fancies to let flee. 20
Then to retain him still, she wrasteth new her grace,
And smileth, lo! as though she would forthwith the man embrace.
But when the proof is made, to try such looks withal,
He findeth then the place all void, and freighted full of gall.
Lord! what abuse is this; who can such women praise? 25
That for their glory do devise to use such crafty ways.
I that among the rest do sit and mark the row,
Find that in her is greater craft, than is in twenty mo’:
Whose tender years, alas! with wiles so well are sped,
What will she do when hoary hairs are powder’d in her head? 30
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An Answer in the behalf of a Woman. Of an uncertain Author
GIRT in my guiltless gown, as I sit here and sow,
I see that things are not in deed, as to the outward show.
And who so list to look and note things somewhat near,
Shall find where plainness seems to haunt, nothing but craft appear.
For with indifferent eyes, myself can well discern, 5
How some to guide a ship in storms stick not to take the stern;
Whose skill and courage tried in calm to steer a barge,
They would soon shew, you should foresee, it were too great a charge.
And some I see again sit still and say but small,
That can do ten times more than they that say they can do all. 10
Whose goodly gifts are such, the more they understand,
The more they seek to learn and know, and take less charge in hand.
And to declare more plain, the time flits not so fast,
But I can bear right well in mind the song now sung, and past;
The author whereof came, wrapt in a crafty cloak, 15
If power and will had met, as it appeareth plain,
The truth nor right had ta’en no place; their virtues had been vain.
So that you may perceive, and I may safely see,
The innocent that guiltless is, condemned should have be. 20
Much like untruth to this the story doth declare,
Where the Elders laid to Susan’s charge meet matter to compare.
They did her both accuse, and eke condemn her too,
And yet no reason, right, nor truth, did lead them so to do!
And she thus judg’d to die, toward her death went forth, 25
Fraughted with faith, a patient pace, taking her wrong in worth.
But he that doth defend all those that in him trust,
Did raise a child for her defence to shield her from th’ unjust.
And Daniel chosen was then of this wrong to weet,
How, in what place, and eke with whom she did this crime commit. 30
He caused the Elders part the one from th’ other’s sight,
And did examine one by one, and charg’d them both say right.
‘Under a mulberry tree it was;’ first said the one.
The next named a pomegranate tree, whereby the truth was known.
Then Susan was discharg’d, and they condemn’d to die, 35
As right requir’d, and they deserv’d, that fram’d so foul a lie.
And He that her preserv’d, and lett them of their lust,
Hath me defended hitherto, and will do still I trust.
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The constant Lover lamenteth
SINCE fortune’s wrath envieth the wealth
Wherein I reigned, by the sight
Of that, that fed mine eyes by stealth
With sour, sweet, dread, and delight;
Let not my grief move you to moan, 5
For I will weep and wail alone.
Spite drave me into Boreas’ reign,
Where hoary frosts the fruits do bite,
When hills were spread, and every plain
With stormy winter’s mantle white; 10
And yet, my dear, such was my heat,
When others froze, then did I sweat.
And now, though on the sun I drive,
Whose fervent flame all things decays;
His beams in brightness may not strive 15
With light of your sweet golden rays;
Nor from my breast his heat remove
The frozen thoughts, graven by Love.
Ne may the waves of the salt flood
Quench that your beauty set on fire; 20
For though mine eyes forbear the food,
That did relieve the hot desire;
Such as I was, such will I be;
Your own; what would ye more of me?
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A Song written by the Earl of Surrey of a Lady that refused to dance with him
EACH beast can choose his fere according to his mind,
And eke can shew a friendly chere, like to their beastly kind.
A Lion saw I late, as white as any snow,
Which seemed well to lead the race, his port the same did show.
Upon the gentle beast to gaze it pleased me, 5
For still me thought he seemed well of noble blood to be.
And as he pranced before, still seeking for a make,
As who would say, ‘There is none here, I trow, will me forsake’
I might perceive a Wolf as white as whalèsbone;
A fairer beast of fresher hue, beheld I never none; 10
Save that her looks were coy, and froward eke her grace:
Unto the which this gentle beast ‘gan him advance apace.
And with a beck full low he bowed at her feet,
In humble wise, as who would say, ‘I am too far unmeet.’
But such a scornful chere, wherewith she him rewarded! 15
Was never seen, I trow, the like, to such as well deserved.
With that she start aside well near a foot or twain,
And unto him thus ‘gan she say, with spite and great disdain:
‘Lion,’ she said, ‘if thou hadst known my mind before,
Thou hadst not spent thy travail thus, nor all thy pain for-lore. 20
Do way! I let thee weet, thou shalt not play with me:
Go range about, where thou mayst find some meeter fere for thee.’
With that he beat his tail, his eyes began to flame;
I might perceive his noble heart much moved by the same.
Yet saw I him refrain, and eke his wrath assuage, 25
And unto her thus ‘gan he say, when he was past his rage:
‘Cruel! you do me wrong, to set me thus so light;
Without desert for my good will to shew me such despite.
How can ye thus intreat a Lion of the race,
That with his paws a crowned king devoured in the place. 30
Whose nature is to prey upon no simple food,
As long as he may suck the flesh, and drink of noble blood.
If you be fair and fresh, am I not of your hue?
And for my vaunt I dare well say, my blood is not untrue.
For you yourself have heard, it is not long ago, 35
Sith that for love one of the race did end his life in woe,
In tower both strong and high, for his assured truth,
Whereas in tears he spent his breath, alas! the more the ruth.
This gentle beast so died, whom nothing could remove,
But willingly to lese his life for loss of his true love. 40
Other there be whose lives do linger still in pain,
Against their will preserved are, that would have died right fain.
But now I do perceive that nought it moveth you,
My good intent, my gentle heart, nor yet my kind so true.
But that your will is such to lure me to the trade, 45
As other some full many years trace by the craft ye made.
And thus behold my kinds, how that we differ far;
I seek my foes; and you your friends do threaten still with war.
I fawn where I am fled; you slay, that seeks to you;
I can devour no yielding prey; you kill where you subdue. 50
My kind is to desire the honour of the field;
And you with blood to slake your thirst on such as to you yield.
Wherefore I would you wist, that for your coyed looks,
I am no man that will be trapp’d, nor tangled with such hooks.
And though some lust to love, where blame full well they might; 55
And to such beasts of current sought, that should have travail bright;
I will observe the law that Nature gave to me,
To conquer such as will resist, and let the rest go free.
And as a falcon free, that soareth in the air,
Which never fed on hand nor lure; nor for no stale doth care; 60
While that I live and breathe, such shall my custom be
In wildness of the woods to seek my prey, where pleaseth me;
Where many one shall rue, that never made offence:
Thus your refuse against my power shall boot them no defence.
And for revenge thereof I vow and swear thereto, 65
A thousand spoils I shall commit I never thought to do.
And if to light on you my luck so good shall be,
I shall be glad to feed on that, that would have fed on me.
And thus farewell, Unkind, to whom I bent and bow;
I would you wist, the ship is safe that bare his sails so low. 70
Sith that a Lion’s heart is for a Wolf no prey,
With bloody mouth go slake your thirst on simple sheep, I say,
With more de
spite and ire than I can now express;
Which to my pain, though I refrain, the cause you may well guess.
As for because myself was author of the game, 75
It boots me not that for my wrath I should disturb the same.’
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The faithful Lover declareth his Pains and his uncertain Joys, and with only Hope recomforteth somewhat his woful Heart
IF care do cause men cry, why do not I complain?
If each man do bewail his woe, why shew not I my pain?
Since that amongst them all, I dare well say is none
So far from weal, so full of woe, or hath more cause to moan.
For all things having life, sometime hath quiet rest; 5
The bearing ass, the drawing ox, and every other beast;
The peasant, and the post, that serves at all assays;
The ship-boy, and the galley-slave, have time to take their ease;
Save I, alas! whom care, of force doth so constrain,
To wail the day, and wake the night, continually in pain. 10
From pensiveness to plaint, from plaint to bitter tears,
From tears to painful plaint again; and thus my life it wears.
No thing under the sun, that I can hear or see,
But moveth me for to bewail my cruel destiny.
For where men do rejoice, since that I cannot so, 15
I take no pleasure in that place, it doubleth but my woe.
And when I hear the sound of song or instrument,
Methink each tune there doleful is, and helps me to lament.
And if I see some have their most desired sight,
‘Alas!’ think I, ‘each man hath weal save I, most woful wight.’ 20
Then as the stricken deer withdraws himself alone,
So do I seek some secret place, where I may make my moan.
There do my flowing eyes shew forth my melting heart;
So that the streams of those two wells right well declare my smart.
And in those cares so cold, I force myself a heat 25