As ye came from the holy land
Of blessed Walsingham,
O met you not with my true love
As by the way ye came?
"How should I know your true love, 5
That have met many a one,
As I came from the holy land,
That have both come and gone?"
My love is neither white[466], nor browne,
But as the heavens faire; 10
There is none hath her form divine,
Either in earth, or ayre.
"Such an one did I meet, good sir,
With an angelicke face;
Who like a nymphe, a queene appeard 15
Both in her gait, her grace."
Yes: she hath cleane forsaken me,
And left me all alone;
Who some time loved me as her life,
And called me her owne. 20
"What is the cause she leaves thee thus,
And a new way doth take,
That some times loved thee as her life,
And thee her joy did make?"
I that loved her all my youth, 25
Growe old now as you see;
Love liketh not the falling fruite,
Nor yet the withered tree.
For love is like a carelesse childe,
Forgetting promise past: 30
He is blind, or deaf, whenere he list;
His faith is never fast.
His fond desire is fickle found,
And yieldes a trustlesse joye;
Wonne with a world of toil and care, 35
And lost ev'n with a toye.
Such is the love of womankinde,
Or Loves faire name abusde,
Beneathe which many vaine desires,
And follyes are excusde. 40