While the wretch, with mournful dole,
Wrings his hands in agony,
Praying for his brother's soul,
Whom he pierced suddenly,-

Shrinks to hear thy boding cry,
Owl, that lov'st the cloudy sky,
To him it is not harmony.

66

INCONSTANCY REPROVED.

[Vide a choice Collection of comic and serious Scots "Poems, both ancient and modern, in three parts," Edinburgh.Watson. 1709-1711. And" the Hive," (4 small volumes of songs) frequently printed before the middle of the last century. I can at present produce no earlier authorities, though the copy given in the former edition of this work was taken, I believe, from some more ancient miscellany. However, from the internal evidence of style and sentiment, I have no difficulty in referring this poem to the reign of Charles I.]

I DO Confess thou'rt smooth and fair,

And I might have gone near to love thee;

Had I not found the slightest prayer

That lips could speak, had power to move thee;

But I can let thee now alone

As worthy to be lov'd by none.

I do confess thou 'rt sweet, yet find
Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,
Thy favours are but like the wind

That kisseth every thing it meets.
And since thou canst with more than one,
Thou 'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none.

The morning rose, that untouch'd stands,

Arm'd with her briars, how sweetly smells! But pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands, Her sweet no longer with her dwells; But scent and beauty both are gone, And leaves fall from her, one by one.

Such fate, ere long, will thee betide,
When thou hast handled been a while!
Like sere-flowers to be thrown aside,

And I shall sigh, while some will smile,
To see thy love to every one

Hath brought thee to be lov'd by none!

The following piece properly belongs to the reign of Queen Elizabeth, but was not received till the present volume was nearly printed.

It is extracted from a very small and extremely scarce miscellany called "a Handful of Pleasant Delites, containing "sundrie new sonets and delectable histories in divers "kinds of meeter, &c. &c. by Clement Robinson and divers "others." London, printed by Richard Jhones, &c. 1584. It is inserted because the tune at least appears to have acquired an extraordinary degree of popularity in the time of Shakspeare, (see Merry Wives of Windsor, Act ii. Sc. 1, and Act v. Sc. 5,) and because the ballad contains some particulars respecting female dress and manners during the sixteenth century, which may appear curious to the poetical antiquary.

A new courtly Sonet, of the Lady Greensleeves, to the new tune of "Greensleeves."

GREENSLEEVES was all my joy,
Greensleeves was my delight:
Greensleeves was my hart of gold,
And who but Lady Greensleeves.

Alas, my love, ye do me wrong,
To cast me off discourteously:
And I have loved you so long,

Delighting in your company!
Greensleeves, &c,

I have been ready at your hand,
To grant whatever you would crave:
I have both waged life and land,

Your love and good-will for to have. Greensleeves, &c.

I bought thee kerchers to thy head,
That were wrought fine and gallantly:
I kept thee, both at board and bed,
Which cost my purse well-favour'dly.
Greensleeves, &c.

I bought thee petticoats of the best,
The cloth so fine as fine might be:
I gave thee jewels for thy chest ;
And all this cost I spent on thee.
Greensleeves, &c.

Thy smock of silk both fair and white,

With gold embroider'd gorgeously:

Thy petticoat of sendall' right;

And this I bought thee gladly.

Greensleeves, &c. ~

Thy girdle of gold so red,

With pearls bedecked sumptuously,

A thin silk. See Du Cange, voce cendalum.

The like no other lasses had:

And yet thou wouldest not love me! Greensleeves, &c.

Thy purse, and eke thy gay gilt knives,
Thy pin-case, gallant to the eye:
No better wore the burgess' wives :
And yet thou wouldest not love me!
Greensleeves, &c.

Thy crimson stockings, all of silk,

With gold all wrought above the knee; Thy pumps, as white as was the milk: And yet thou wouldest not love me! Greensleeves, &c.

Thy gown was of the grassy green,
Thy sleeves of satin hanging by;
Which made thee be our harvest queen:

And yet thou wouldest not love me! Greensleeves, &c.

Thy garters fringed with the gold,
And silver aglets1 hanging by;

Which made thee blithe for to behold:

And yet thou wouldest not love me! Greensleeves, &c.

1

Aiglets; aiguillette, a lace with tags.