The golden stars are whirl'd amid their race, The ugly bear now mindeth not the stake, 2. MISERY His face was lean, and some deal pined away, For on his carcase raiment had he none, His food for most was wild fruits of the tree, As on the which full daintily would he fare. His drink the running stream; his cup the bare Of his palm closed; his bed the hard cold ground. To this poor life was Misery ybound. 3. SLEEP. By him lay heavy sleep, the cousin of death, 4. OLD AGE. And next in order sad old age we found, His beard all hoar, his eyes hollow and blind, With drooping cheer still poring on the ground As on the place where nature him assigned To rest, when that the sisters had untwined His vital thread. and ended with their knife The fleeting course of fast declining life. Crook-backed he was, tooth-shaken, and blear-eyed, XII. ANONYMOUS. My mind to me a kingdom is; Such perfect joy therein I find, As far exceeds all earthly bliss, That God or nature hath assign'd. Though much I want that most would have, Content I live: this is my stay, I seek no more than may suffice: I press to bear no haughty sway; Content with that my mind doth bring. This celebrated song is printed in several collections of Poems published to the sixteenth century. There are many variations in each of the copies. The following version is that given by Ritson in his English Songs:' with the exception of the last stanza, which is from a manuscript in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. In that manuscript the poem is ascribed to Sir Edward Dyer, a friend of Sir Philip Sydney. I see how plenty surfeits oft, And hasty climbers soonest fall; I see that such as sit aloft Mishap doth threaten most of all: No princely pomp nor wealthy store, No wily wit to salve a sore, No shape to win a lover's eye: o none of these I yield as thrall; For why? my mind despiseth all. Some have too much, yet still they crave, They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; I grudge not at another's gain, I brook that is another's bane: My wealth is health and perfect ease, My conscience clear, my chief defence, I never seek by bribes to please, Nor by desert to give offence. Thus do I live, thus will I die— I joy not in no earthly bliss, I weigh not Croesus' wealth a straw For care, I care not what it is I fear not fortune's fatal law: My mind is such, as may not move 1. I wish but what I have at will, In greatest storms I sit on shore, I kiss not where I wish to kill, I feign not love where most I hate; I wait not at the mighty's gate, A cloaked craft their store of skill: But all the pleasure that I find, Is to maintain a quiet mind. XIII. MARLOWE. EDWARD II, LEICESTER, AND WINCHESTER. LEIC. Be patient, good my Lord, cease to lament, Imagine Killingworth castle were your court, And that you lay for pleasure here a space, Not for compulsion or necessity. ED. Leicester, if gentle words might comfort me, Thy speeches long ago had eas'd my sorrows; For kind and loving hast thou always been. The griefs of private men are soon allay'd, But not of kings. The forest deer, being struck, Runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds; But, when the imperial lion's flesh is gor'd, He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw, And highly scorning that the lowly earth Should drink his blood, mounts up into the air. And so it fares with me, whose dauntless mind Th' ambitious Mortimer would seek to curb, And that unnatural queen, false Isabel, That thus hath pent and mew'd me in a prison: WIN. Your grace mistakes, it is for England's good, But Edward's name survive though Edward dies. 2. EDWARD II AND LIGHTBORN. ED. Who's there? What light is that? Wherefore [com'st thou ? LIGHT. To comfort you, and bring you joyful news. ED. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks. Villain, I know thou com'st to murder me. LIGHT. To murder you, my most gracious lord! Far is it from my heart to do you harm. B |