"At court I'm tolde is beauty's throne, "Then, earle, why didft thou leave the bedds. “Mong rural beauties I was one, Among the fields wild flow'rs are faire; "Some countrye fwayne might mee have won, "And thought my beautie paffing rare. "But, Leicester, (or I much am wronge) "Ortis not beautye lures thy vowes; "Rather ambition's gilded crowne "Makes thee forget thy humble spouse. “Then, Leicester, why, again I pleade, "(The injur'd furelye may repyne,) “ Why didft thou wed a countrye mayde, "When fome fayre princeffe might be thyne? "Why didst thou praise my humble charmes, And, oh! then leave them to decaye? "Why didft thou win me to thy armes, "Then leave me to mourne the live-long daye? "The village maidens of the plaine "The fimple nymphs! they little knowe, "How farre more happy's their eftate"To fmile for joye--than sigh for woe"To be contente--than to be greate. "Howe farre leffe blefle am I than them? "Nor (cruel earl!) can I enjoye "The humble charmes of folitude; "Your minions proude my peace destroye, "By fullen frownes or pratings rude. "Lafle nyghte, as fad I chanc'd to flraye, "The village deathe-bell fmote my care; "They wink'dafyde, and seem'd to faye, "Counteffe, prepare-thy end is neare. "And nowe, while happye peasantes fleepe, "Here I fet lonelye and forlorne; "No one to foothe mee as I weepe, "Save phylomel on yonder thorne, "My fpirits flag-my hopes decaye "Still that dreade deathe-bell fmites my eare; "And many a boding feemes to faye, Countefs, prepare-thy end is neare." Thus fore and fad that ladie griev'd, And ere the dawne of daye appear'd, The death-belle thrice was hearde to ring, The mafliffe howl'd at village doore, And in that manor now no more Is chearful feafte and fprightly balle; The village maides, with fearful glance, Among the groves of Cumnor Halle. Full manye a travellor oft hath figh'd, The haunted tow'rs of Cumnor Halle. THE BITTER FRUITES OF JEALOUSIE. G OE, shutte the doore, my Edwarde deere, "Shutte clofe the doore, I praye; "Lette nae keene fearche my treadinge trace, "Ne liftene what I faie; "Lette nane my fubtle entraunce knowe, "My troubled motion fpie, "Ne fmalleft funne-beame penetrate "The tell-tale of mine eye." So Alleyne fpake, as guilt-beftain'd When instincte ledde his pathlesse foote 'Tween horrid dreede, and confcious fhame, Fu' mighte was the ftrife, While from his now-enfeebled hands Downe dropp'd a reekinge knife. What means that steele? What means that glow, Wherewith thy visage burnes? Now ghafllie pale, alack, fucceeds, And now the redde returnes. "Saye, will yee plighte your promise deere, "And wille yee plighte your faye, "That what I now entrufte to yee Yea, I wille plight my promise deere, "Ah! was fhee not the faireft faire, "More deare than life to mee? "Yet ne'er fhall I againe beholde "My Lucie fweete to fee." Yea, fhee was faireft of the faire, And haft thou scath'd with deadlie ftroke Thy Lucie fweete to fee? 5 |