And is't not brave when summer's robes
Have all the fields encowled
To have a green gown on the grass
And wear it uncontroul'd?
From Henry Lawes' Airs and Dialogues, 1653.
A[67]Caution to Fair Ladies.
LADIES, you that seem so nice,
And as cold in show as ice,
And perhaps have held out thrice;
Do not think but in a trice
One or other may entice,
And at last by some device
Set your honours at a price.
You whose smooth and dainty skin,
Rosy lips, or cheeks, or chin,
All that gaze upon you win,
Yet insult not: sparks within
Slowly burn ere flames begin,
And presumption still hath been
Held a most notorious sin.
From Thomas Campion's Fourth Book of Airs (circ. 1617).
IF any hath the heart to kill,
Come rid me of this woeful pain,
For while I live I suffer still
This cruel torment all in vain;
Yet none alive but one can guess
What is the cause of my distress.
Thanks be to heaven, no grievous smart,
No maladies my limbs annoy:
I bear a sound and sprightful heart
Yet live I quite deprived of joy;
Since what I had in vain I crave,
And what I had not now I have.
A love I had so fair, so sweet,
As ever wanton eye did see;
Once by appointment we did meet:
She would, but ah! it would not be.
She gave her heart, her hand she gave:
All did I give, she naught could have.
What hag did then my powers forespeak,
That never yet such taint did feel?
Now she rejects me as one weak,
Yet am I all composed of steel.
Ah! this is it my heart doth grieve:
Now, though she sees, she'll not believe.