COMPLETE ANGLER. 



277 



COME, SHEPHERDS, DECK YOUR HEADS.* 

 (From a MS. in the collection of 

 MrT, 



the late Mr Heber, communicated by 

 Rodd.) 



Come, Shepheards, deck your heads 

 No more with bayes but willowes, 

 Forsake your downie beds 

 And make the downes your pillowes, 

 And mourne with me, since crost 

 As never yet was no man, 

 For shepheard neaver lost 

 So plain a dealing woman. 



All yee forsaken wooers 

 That ever were distressed. 

 And all ye lusty doe'rs 

 That ever wenches pressed. 

 That losses can condole 

 And altogeather summon 

 To mourne for the poor soule 

 Of my plaine-dealinge woman. 



Faire Venus made her chast, 

 And Ceres beauty gave her, 

 Pan wept when shee was lost, 

 The Satyrs strove to have her ; 

 Yet seem'd she to theire view 

 So coy, so nice, that no man 

 Could judge but he that knew 

 Shee was plaine-dealinge woman. 

 At all her pretty parts 

 I nere enough can wonder ; 

 She overcame all hearts, 

 Yet shee all hearts came under ; 

 Her inward parts were sweete. 

 Yet not so sweete as common, 

 Shepheard shall neaver meet 

 So plaine a dealinge woman. 



'AS AT NOON DULCINA RESTED. 



(Printed in Ellis's Specimens of Early English Poetry, 2d ed. p. 189.) 



As at noon Dulcina rested 



In her sweet and shady bower. 

 Came a shepherd, and requested 

 In her lap to sleep an hour. 



But from her look 



A wound he took 

 So deeo, that for a further boon 



The nymph he prays, 



Whereto she says. 

 Forego me now, come to me soon. 



But in vain she did conjure him, 



To depart her presence so, 

 Having a thousand tongues t' allure him, 

 And but one to bid him go. 



When lips invite, 



And eyes delight. 

 And cheeks as fresh as rose in June, 



Persuade delay — 



What boots to say, 

 Forego me now, come to me soon? 



He demands, what time for pleasure 

 Can there be more fit than now ? 



She says, night gives love that leisure 

 Which the day doth not allow. 

 He says, the sight 



Improves delight : 

 Which she denies : night's murky noon. 



In Venus' plays. 



Makes bold (she says] ; 

 Forego me now, come to me soon. 



But what promise or profession 



From his hands could purchase scope ? 

 Who would sell the sweet possession 

 Of such beauty for a hope ? 



Or for the sight 



Of lingering night 

 Forego the present joys of noon ? 



Tho' ne'er so fair 



Her speeches were, 

 Forego me now, come to me soon. 



How at last agreed these lovers? 



She was fair and he was young ; 

 The tongue may tell what th' eye discovers, 

 Joys unseen are never sung. 



Did she consent 



Or he relent. 

 Accepts he night, or grants she noon, 



Left he her a maid 



Or not, she said, 

 Forego me now, come to me soon. 



*'PHILLIDA FLOUTS ME." i 



(Printed in Ritson's "Ancient Songs," ed. 1790, p. 236, from the "Theatre 

 of Compliments/' in 1689.) 



Oh ! what a plague is love, 



I cannot bear it; 

 She will inconstant prove, 



I greatly fear it ; 

 It so torments my mindj 



That mv heart faileth ; 



She wavers with the wind, 



As a ship saileth : 

 Please her the best I may. 

 She loves still to gainsay, 

 Alack, and well-a-day ! 



Phillida flouts me. 



* In the third, fourth, and fifth, as well as in the present edition of ' 

 Angler," this word is erroneously printed ^^ herds." 



The Complete 



