Lyrics from the Song-Books of the Elizabethan Age Part 26

Hope by disdain grows cheerless, Fear doth love, love doth fear; Beauty peerless, Farewell!

If no delays can move thee, Life shall die, death shall live Still to love thee.

Farewell!

Yet be thou mindful ever!

Heat from fire, fire from heat, None can sever.

Farewell!

True love cannot be changed, Though delight from desert Be estranged.

Farewell!

From THOMAS CAMPION's _Two Books of Airs_ (circ. 1613).

Wise men patience never want, Good men pity cannot hide; Feeble spirits only vaunt Of revenge, the poorest pride: He alone forgive that can Bears the true soul of a man.

Some there are debate that seek, Making trouble their content; Happy if they wrong the meek, Vex them that to peace are bent: Such undo the common tie Of mankind, Society.

Kindness grown is lately cold, Conscience hath forgot her part; Blessed times were known of old Long ere Law became an art: Shame deterred, not statutes then; Honest love was law to men.

Deeds from love, and words, that flow, Foster like kind April showers; In the warm sun all things grow, Wholesome fruits and pleasant flowers: All so thrives his gentle rays Whereon human love displays.

From JOHN DOWLAND's _Second Book of Songs or Airs_, 1600.

Woeful Heart, with grief oppressed!

Since my fortunes most distressed From my joys hath me removed, Follow those sweet eyes adored!

Those sweet eyes wherein are stored All my pleasures best beloved.

Fly my breast--leave me forsaken-- Wherein Grief his seat hath taken, All his arrows through me darting!

Thou mayst live by her sunshining: I shall suffer no more pining By thy loss than by her parting.

From THOMAS GREAVES' _Songs of Sundry Kinds_, 1604.

Ye bubbling springs that gentle music makes To lovers' plaints with heart-sore throbs immixed, When as my dear this way her pleasure takes, Tell her with tears how firm my love is fixed; And, Philomel, report my timerous fears, And, echo, sound my heigh-ho's in her ears: But if she asks if I for love will die, Tell her, Good faith, good faith, good faith,--not I.

From FARMER's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1599.

You blessed bowers whose green leaves now are spreading, Shadow the sunshine from my mistress' face, And you, sweet roses, only for her bedding When weary she doth take her resting-place; You fair white lilies and pretty flowers all, Give your attendance at my mistress' call.

From THOMAS MORLEY's _First Book of Ballets_, 1595.

You that wont to my pipe's sound Daintily to tread your ground, Jolly shepherds and nymphs sweet, (Lirum, lirum.)

Here met together Under the weather, Hand in hand uniting, The lovely G.o.d come greet.

(Lirum, lirum)

Lo, triumphing, brave comes he, All in pomp and majesty, Monarch of the world and king.

(Lirum, lirum.)

Let whoso list him Dare to resist him, We our voices uniting, Of his high acts will sing.

(Lirum, lirum.)

From THOMAS BATESON's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1604.

Your shining eyes and golden hair, Your lily-rosed lips so fair; Your various beauties which excel, Men cannot choose but like them well: Yet when for them they say they'll die, Believe them not,--they do but lie.

NOTES.

_Page_ 3.

Thomas Weelkes was organist of Winchester College in 1600, and of Chichester Cathedral in 1608. His first collection, "Madrigals to three, four, five, or six voices," was published in 1597. Here first appeared the verses (fraudulently ascribed, in "The Pa.s.sionate Pilgrim," 1599, to Shakespeare), "My flocks feed not." In 1598 Weelkes published "Ballets and Madrigals to five voices," which was followed in 1600 by "Madrigals of five and six parts." Prefixed to the last-named work is the following dedicatory epistle:--

"To the truly n.o.ble, virtuous, and honorable, my very good Lord Henry, Lord Winsor, Baron of Bradenham.

My Lord, in the College at Winchester, where I live, I have heard learned men say that some philosophers have mistaken the soul of man for an harmony: let the precedent of their error be a privilege for mine. I see not, if souls do not partly consist of music, how it should come to pa.s.s that so n.o.ble a spirit as your's, so perfectly tuned to so perpetual a _tenor_ of excellence as it is, should descend to the notice of a quality lying single in so low a personage as myself. But in music the _base_ part is no disgrace to the best ears' attendancy. I confess my conscience is untoucht with any other arts, and I hope my confession is unsuspected; many of us musicians think it as much praise to be somewhat more than musicians as it is for gold to be somewhat more than gold, and if _Jack Cade_ were alive, yet some of us might live, unless we should think, as the artisans in the Universities of Poland and Germany think, that the Latin tongue comes by reflection. I hope your Lordship will pardon this presumption of mine; the rather, because I know before n.o.bility I am to deal sincerely; and this small faculty of mine, because it is alone in me, and without the a.s.sistance of other more confident sciences, is the more to be favoured and the rather to be received into your honour's protection; so shall I observe you with as humble and as true an heart, as he whose knowledge is as large as the world's creation, and as earnestly pray for you to the world's Creator.

Your Honor's in all humble service, THOMAS WEELKES."

In 1608 appeared Weelkes' last work, "Airs or Fantastic Spirits for three voices," a collection of lively and humorous ditties. Oliphant writes:--"For originality of ideas, and ingenuity of construction in part writing, (I allude more especially to his ballets,) Weelkes in my opinion leaves all other composers of his time far behind." The verses in Weelkes' song-books are never heavy or laboured; they are always bright, cheerful, and arch.

_Page_ 3. Robert Jones was a famous performer on the lute. He had a share in the management of the theatre in the Whitefriars (Collier's "Annals of the Stage," i. 395). His works are of the highest rarity. The delightful lyrics in Jones' song-books have escaped the notice of all the editors of anthologies.

_Page_ 4. Thomas Morley, who was a pupil of William Byrd, was the author of the first systematic treatise on music published in this country--"A plain and easy Introduction to practical Music," 1597, quaintly set down in form of a dialogue. The verses in his collections are mere airy trifles, and hardly bear to be separated from the music.

"About the maypole new," &c., is a translation of some Italian lines, beginning--

"Al suon d'una sampogn' e d'una citera, Sopra l'herbette floride Dansava Tirsi con l'amata Cloride," &c.

In Morley's "Canzonets to three Voices," 1593, we have the following pleasant description of the preparations for a country wedding:--

"Arise, get up, my dear, make haste, begone thee: Lo! where the bride, fair Daphne, tarries on thee.

Hark! O hark! yon merry maidens squealing Spice-cakes, sops-in-wine are a-dealing.

Run, then run apace And get a bride-lace And gilt rosemary branch the while there yet is catching And then hold fast for fear of old s.n.a.t.c.hing.

Alas! my dear, why weep ye?

O fear not that, dear love, the next day keep we.

List, yon minstrels! hark how fine they firk it, And how the maidens jerk it!

With Kate and Will, Tom and Gill, Now a skip, Then a trip, Finely fet aloft, There again as oft; Hey ho! blessed holiday!

All for Daphne's wedding day!"