THOMAS LODGE,

1557?-1625?

CORIDON'S SONG.

From "Rosalynde: Euphues Golden Legacie, by T. L. Gent. London, 1592." It was this Pastoral Romance that afforded Shakspere the hints for his exquisite Comedy of "As You Like It."

AB

BLITHE and bonny country-lass,
Heigh ho, bonny lass;

Sate sighing on the tender grass,

And weeping said: Will none come woo me? A smicker boy, a lither swain,

Heigh ho, a smicker swain;

That in his love was wanton fain,

With smiling looks straight came unto her.

When as the wanton wench espied,

Heigh ho, when she espied

The means to make herself a bride,

She simpered smooth like bonny-bell.

The swain that saw her squint-eyed kind,
Heigh ho, squint-eyed kind;

His arms about her body twined,

And said: Fair lass, how fare ye, well?

The country kit said: Well, forsooth,
Heigh ho, well, forsooth;

But that I have a longing tooth,

A longing tooth that makes me cry; Alas (said he), what gars thy grief? Heigh ho, what gars thy grief ? A wound (quoth she) without relief, I fear a maid that I shall die.

If that be all, the Shepherd said,
Heigh ho, the Shepherd said;
I'll make thee wive it, gentle maid,
And so recure thy maladie :
Hereon they kiss'd with many an oath,
Heigh ho, many an oath;

And 'fore god Pan did plight their troth,
So to the church apace they hie.

And God send every pretty peate,
Heigh ho, the pretty peate,
That fears to die of this conceit,

So kind a friend to help at last:
Then maids shall never long again,
Heigh ho, to long again;

When they find ease for such a pain,
Thus my roundelay is past.

THE SHEPHERD'S DAFFODIL.

MICHAEL DRAYTON, 1563-1631.

The following stanzas, by Michael Drayton, are
found in one of his Pastorals, bearing the
whimsical title of "Idea. The Shepheard's
Garland, fashioned in nine Eclogs. Rowland's
Sacrifice to the Nine Muses," 1593.
This song
occurs in the Ninth Eclogue.

BATTE.

G

ORBO as thou cam'st this way
By yonder little hill,

Or as thou through the fields did'st stray,
Saw'st thou my Daffodil?

She's in a frock of Lincoln green,

Which colour likes her sight,
And never hath her beauty seen
But through a veil of white.

Than roses richer to behold

That trim up lovers' bowers,
The pansy and the marigold,
Though Phoebus' paramours.

GORBO.-Thou well describ'st the Daffodil;
It is not full an hour

Since by the spring near yonder hill
I saw that lovely flower.

BATTE.-Yet my fair flower thou did'st not meet
Nor news of her did'st bring,

And yet my Daffodil 's more sweet
Than that by yonder spring.

GORBO.I saw a shepherd that does keep
In yonder field of lilies,

Was making (as he fed his sheep)
A wreath of daffodillies.

BATTE.-Yet, Gorbo, thou delud'st me still;
My flower thou did❜st not see,
For, know, my pretty Daffodil

Is worn of none but me.

To show itself but near her feet

No lily is so bold,

Except to shade her from the heat
Or keep her from the cold.

GORBO.-Through yonder vale as I did pass,
Descending from the hill,
I met a smirking bonny lass;
They call her Daffodil.

Whose presence as along she went

The pretty flowers did greet,

As though their heads they downward bent
With homage to her feet.

And all the shepherds that were nigh,

From top of every hill

Unto the valleys loud did cry

"There goes sweet Daffodil."

BATTE.-Aye, gentle shepherd, now with joy
Thou all my flocks dost fill;

That's she alone, kind shepherd's boy;
Let us to Daffodil.