Light down, and bide wi' us a' night,
We'll choose for ye a bonnie lass,
Ye'll get your wield and pick o' them a'
And the time it soon awa' will pass.

Wha will ye gie, if I wi' ye bide,
To be my bonny bonny bride,
And lie down lovely by my side?

I'll gie thee Kate o' Dinglebell,
A bonny body like yersell.

I'll stick her high in yon pear-tree
Sweet and meek, and sae is she:

I lo'ed her ance, but she's no' for me,
Yet I thank ye for your courtesy.

I'll gie thee Rozie o' the Cleugh,

I'm sure she'll please thee weel eneugh.

Up wi' her on the bare bane dyke,

She'll be rotten or 1 I'll be ripe:

She's made for some ither, and no' me,
Yet I thank ye for your courtesy.

Then I'll gie ye Nell o' sweet Sprinkell,
Owre Galloway she bears the bell.

I'll set her up in my bed-head,

And feed her wi' new milk and bread;
She's for nae ither, but just for me,
Sae I thank ye for your courtesy.

Down in yonder meadow where the green grass grows, Pretty Pollie Pillicote bleaches her clothes.

She sang, she sang, she sang, oh, so sweet,

1. Ere

She sang, Oh, come over! across the street.

He kissed her, he kissed her, he bought her a gown,
A gown of rich cramasie out of the town.

He bought her a gown and a guinea gold ring,

A guinea, a guinea, a guinea gold ring;

Up street, and down, shine the windows made of glass,
Oh, isn't Pollie Pillicote a braw young lass?

Cherries in her cheeks, and ringlets her hair,
Hear her singing Handy, Dandy up and down the stair.

357

QUOTH JOHN TO JOAN

QUOTH John to Joan, Will thou have me:
I prithee now, wilt? and I'll marry thee,
My cow, my calf, my house, my rents,
And all my lands and tenements:

Oh, say, my Joan, will not that do?
I cannot come every day to woo.

I've corn and hay in the barn hard-by,
And three fat hogs pent up in the sty,
I have a mare and she is coal black,

I ride on her tail to save my back.

Then, say, my Joan, will not that do?
I cannot come every day to woo.

I have a cheese upon the shelf,

And I cannot eat it all myself;

I've three good marks that lie in a rag,
In a nook of the chimney, instead of a bag.
Then, say, my Joan, will not that do?
I cannot come every day to woo.

To marry I would have thy consent,
But faith I never could compliment;
I can say nought but "Hoy, gee ho!"
Words that belong to the cart and the plough.
Oh, say, My Joan, will not that do?

I cannot come every day to woo.

358

359

MY MISTRESS IS AS FAIR AS
FINE

My mistress is as fair as fine,

Milk-white fingers, cherry nose.
Like twinkling day-stars look her eyne,
Lightening all things where she goes.
Fair as Phoebe, though not so fickle,
Smooth as glass, though not so brickle.

My heart is like a ball of snow
Melting at her lukewarm sight;
Her fiery lips like night-worms glow,
Shining clear as candle-light.
Neat she is, no feather lighter;
Bright she is, no daisy whiter.

DIAPHENIA

DIAPHENIA, like the daffdowndilly,
White as the sun, fair as the lily,

Heigh ho, how I do love thee!

I do love thee as my lambs

Are beloved of their dams

How blest were I if thou wouldst prove me.

Diaphenia, like the spreading roses,

That in thy sweets all sweets encloses,
Fair sweet, how I do love thee!

I do love thee as each flower

Loves the sun's life-giving power,

For, dead, thy breath to life might move me.

Diaphenia, like to all things blessed,
When all thy praises are expressèd,
Dear joy, how I do love thee!

As the birds do love the Spring,

Or the bees their careful king.

Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me!

HENRY CONSTABLE

360

AEGLAMOUR'S LAMENT

HERE she was wont to go, and here, and here!
Just where those daisies, pinks, and violets grow:
The world may find the spring by following her;
For other print her airy steps ne'er left:
Her treading would not bend a blade of grass,
Or shake the downy blow-ball from his stalk;
But like the soft west-wind she shot along;
And where she went, the flowers took thickest root
As she had sowed them with her odourous foot.

BEN JONSON

361

MY TRUE-LOVE HATH MY

HEART

362

My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for the other given;

I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;
There never was a better bargain driven.

His heart in me keeps me and him in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;
He loves my heart, for once it was his own;

I cherish his because in me it bides.

His heart his wound receivèd from my sight,
My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;
For as from me on him his heart did light,

So still methought in me his heart did smart.

Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss,
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY

A BIRTHDAY

My heart is like a singing bird

Whose nest is in a watered shoot;

My heart is like an apple-tree

Whose boughs are bent with thickest fruit.

My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of silk and down;

Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,

In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.

CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

363

LIFE OF LIFE

"VOICE IN THE AIR, SINGING"

LIFE of Life! thy lips enkindle

With their love the breath between them

And thy smiles before they dwindle

Make the cold air flare; then screen them

In those looks, where whoso gazes

Faints, entangled in their mazes.

Child of Light! thy limbs are burning

Through the vest which seeks to hide them;

As the radiant lines of morning

Through the clouds ere they divide them;

And this atmosphere divinest

Shrouds thee wheresoe'er thou shinest.

Fair are others; none beholds thee,

But thy voice sounds low and tender

Like the fairest, for it folds thee

From the sight, that liquid splendour,