And when he saddest sits in homely cell,
He’ll teach his swains this carol for a song,—
‘Blest be the hearts that wish my sovereign well,
Curst be the souls that think her any wrong.’
Goddess, allow this agèd man his right
To be your beadsman now that was your knight.
ROBERT GREENE
1560-92
Samela
LIKE to Diana in her summer weed,
Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye,
Goes fair Samela.
Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed
When wash’d by Arethusa faint they lie,
Is fair Samela.
As fair Aurora in her morning grey,
Deck’d with the ruddy glister of her love
Is fair Samela;
Like lovely Thetis on a calmèd day
Whenas her brightness Neptune’s fancy move,
Shines fair Samela.
Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassy streams,
Her teeth are pearl, the breasts are ivory
Of fair Samela;
Her cheeks like rose and lily yield forth gleams;
Her brows bright arches framed of ebony.
Thus fair Samela
Passeth fair Venus in her bravest hue,
And Juno in the show of majesty
(For she’s Samela!),
Pallas in wit,—all three, if you well view,
For beauty, wit, and matchless dignity,
Yield to Samela.
Fawnia
AH! were she pitiful as she is fair,
Or but as mild as she is seeming so,
Then were my hopes greater than my despair,
Then all the world were heaven, nothing woe.
Ah! were her heart relenting as her hand,
That seems to melt even with the mildest touch,
Then knew I where to seat me in a land
Under wide heavens, but yet there is not such.
So as she shows she seems the budding rose,
Yet sweeter far than is an earthly flower;
Sovran of beauty, like the spray she grows;
Compass’d she is with thorns and canker’d flower.
Yet were she willing to be pluck’d and worn,
She would be gather’d, though she grew on thorn.