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XI

TELL me, my dear, what moves thy ruthless mind
To be so cruel, seeing thou art so fair?
Did nature frame thy beauty so unkind?
Or dost thou scorn to pity my despair?
O no, it was not nature's ornament,

But winged love's unpartial cruel wound,
Which in my heart is ever permanent,

Until my Chloris make me whole and sound. O glorious love-god, think on my heart's grief; Let not thy vassal pine through deep disdain ; By wounding Chloris I shall find relief,

If thou impart to her some of my pain.
She doth thy temples and thy shrines abject;
They with Amintas' flowers by me are decked.

XII

CEASE, eyes, to weep sith none bemoans your weeping;

Leave off, good muse, to sound the cruel name Of my love's queen which hath my heart in keeping,

Yet of my love doth make a jesting game! Long hath my sufferance laboured to inforce One pearl of pity from her pretty eyes, Whilst I with restless oceans of remorse Bedew the banks where my fair Chloris lies, Where my fair Chloris bathes her tender skin, And doth triumph to see such rivers fall

From those moist springs, which never dry have been

Since she their honour hath detained in thrall; And still she scorns one favouring smile to show Unto those waves proceeding from my woe.

XIII

A Dream

WHAT time fair Titan in the zenith sat,
And equally the fixed poles did heat,
When to my flock my daily woes I chat,

And underneath a broad beech took my seat, The dreaming god which Morpheus poets call, Augmenting fuel to my Aetna's fire,

With sleep possessing my weak senses all,
In apparitions makes my hopes aspire.
Methought I saw the nymph I would imbrace,
With arms abroad coming to me for help,
A lust-led satyr having her in chase
Which after her about the fields did yelp.
I seeing my love in perplexed plight,
A sturdy bat from off an oak I reft,
And with the ravisher continue fight

Till breathless I upon the earth him left.

Then when my coy nymph saw her breathless

foe,

With kisses kind she gratifies my pain, Protesting never rigour more to show. Happy was I this good hap to obtain; But drowsy slumbers flying to their cell, My sudden joy converted was to bale; My wonted sorrows still with me do dwell. I looked round about on hill and dale, But I could neither my fair Chloris view, Nor yet the satyr which erstwhile I slew.

L

XIV

MOURNFUL Amintas, thou didst pine with care,
Because the fates by their untimely doom
Of life bereft thy loving Phillis fair,

When thy love's spring did first begin to bloom.
My care doth countervail that care of thine,
And yet my Chloris draws her angry breath;
My hopes still hoping hopeless now repine,
For living she doth add to me but death.
Thy Phinis, dying, loved thee full dear;

My Chloris, living, hates poor Corin's love, Thus doth my woe as great as thine appear, Though sundry accents both our sorrows move. Thy swan-like songs did show thy dying anguish ; These weeping truce-men show I living languish.

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