第4章 FIRST BOOK(1)
SUMMARY
The Elizabethan Poetry， as it is rather vaguely termed， forms the substance of this Book， which contains pieces from Wyat under Henry VIII. to Shakespeare midway through the reign of James I.， and Drummond who carried on the early manner to a still later period.There is here a wide range of style； —from simplicity expressed in a language hardly yet broken in to verse， —through the pastoral fancies and Italian conceits of the strictly Elizabethan time， —to the passionate reality of Shakespeare： yet a general uniformity of tone prevails.Few readers can fail to observe the natural sweetness of the verse， the single-hearted straightforwardness of the thoughts： —nor less， the limitation of subject to the many phases of one passion， which then characterised our lyrical poetry， —unless when， as with Drummond and Shakespeare， the "purple light of Love" is tempered by a spirit of sterner reflection.
It should be observed that this and the following Summaries apply in the main to the Collection here presented， in which (besides its restriction to Lyrical Poetry) a strictly representative or historical Anthology has not been aimed at. Great Excellence， in human art as in human character， has from the beginning of things been even more uniform than Mediocrity， by virtue of the closeness of its approach to Nature： —and so far as the standard of Excellence kept in view has been attained in this volume， a comparative absence of extreme or temporary phases in style， a similarity of tone and manner， will be found throughout： —something neither modern nor ancient but true in all ages， and like the works of Creation perfect as on the first day.
01◆SPRING
Spring， the sweet Spring， is the year's pleasant king；
Then blooms each thing， then maids dance in a ring，
Cold doth not sting， the pretty birds do sing，
Cuckoo， jug-jug， pu-we， to-witta-woo！
The palm and may make country houses gay，
Lambs frisk and play， the shepherds pipe all day，
And we hear aye birds tune their merry lay，
Cuckoo， jug-jug， pu-we， to-witta-woo！
The felds breathe sweet， the daisies kiss our feet，
Young lovers meet， old wives a-sunning sit，
In every street these tunes our ears do greet，
Cuckoo， jug-jug， pu-we， to-witta-woo！
Spring， the sweet Spring！
T. NASH
02◆SUMMONS TO LOVE
Phoebus， arise！
And paint the sable skies
With azure， white， and red：
Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed
That she may thy càreer with roses spread：
The nightingales thy coming eachwhere sing：
Make an eternal spring，
Give life to this dark world which lieth dead；
Spread forth thy golden hair
In larger locks than thou wast wont before，
And emperor-like decore
With diadem of pearl thy temples fair：
Chase hence the ugly night
Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light.
—This is that happy morn，
That day， long-wishéd day
Of all my life so dark，
(If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn
And fates my hopes betray) ，
Which， purely white， deserves
An everlasting diamond should it mark.
This is the morn should bring unto this grove
My Love， to hear and recompense my love.
Fair King， who all preserves，
But show thy blushing beams，
And thou two sweeter eyes
Shalt see than those which by Peneüs'streams
Did once thy heart surprize.
Now， Flora， deck thyself in fairest guise：
If that ye， winds， would hear
A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre，
Your furious chiding stay；
Let Zephyr only breathe，
And with her tresses play.
—The winds all silent are，
And Phoebus in his chair
Ensafroning sea and air
Makes vanish every star：
Night like a drunkard reels
Beyond the hills， to shun his faming wheels：
The felds with fowers are deck'd in every hue，
The clouds with orient gold spangle their blue；
Here is the pleasant place—
And nothing wanting is， save She， alas！
WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN
03◆TIME AND LOVE
When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced
The rich proud cost of out-worn buried age；
When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed，
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage；
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore，
And the frm soil win of the watery main，
Increasing store with loss， and loss with store；
When I have seen such interchange of state，
Or state itself confounded to decay，
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate—
That Time will come and take my Love away：
—This thought is as a death， which cannot choose
But weep to have that which it fears to lose.
W. SHAKESPEARE
04◆SINCE BRASS
Since brass， nor stone， nor earth， nor boundless sea，
But sad mortality o'ersways their power，
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea，
Whose action is no stronger than a fower？
O how shall summer's honey breath hold out
Against the wreckful siege of battering days，
When rocks impregnable are not so stout
Nor gates of steel so strong， but time decays？
O fearful meditation！ where， alack！
Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid？
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back，
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid？
O！ none， unless this miracle have might，
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.
W. SHAKESPEARE
05◆THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
Come live with me and be my Love，
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys， dale and feld，
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks
And see the shepherds feed their focks，
By shallow rivers， to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
There will I make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies，
A cap of fowers， and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.
A gown made of the fnest wool，
Which from our pretty lambs we pull，
Fairlinéd 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.
Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat，
Shall on an ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning：
If these delights thy mind may move，