On a time the amorous Silvy
With that, her fairest bosom showing,
Opening her lips, rich perfumes blowing,
She said, ‘Now kiss me and be going,
My sweetest dear!
Kiss me this once and then be going,
For now the morning draweth near.’
With that the shepherd waked from sleeping,
And, spying where the day was peeping,
He said, ‘Now take my soul in keeping,
My sweetest dear!
Kiss me, and take my soul in keeping,
Since I must go, now day is near.’
From Robert Jones’ First Book of Songs and Airs, 1601.
Once did I love and yet I live,
Hers be the blame that caused it so,
Mine be the grief though it be mickle;[12]
She shall have shame, I cause to know
What ’tis to love a dame so fickle.
Love her that list, I am content
For that chameleon-like she changeth,
Yielding such mists as may prevent
My sight to view her when she rangeth.
Let him not vaunt that gains my loss,
For when that he and time hath proved her,
She may him bring to Weeping-Cross:
I say no more, because I loved her.
[12] Old ed., “little”