47.

GEORGE GASCOIGNE

A Lover's Lullaby

ING lullaby, as women do,

SING

1525?-77

Wherewith they bring their babes to rest;
And lullaby can I sing too,

As womanly as can the best.
With lullaby they still the child;
And if I be not much beguiled,
Full many a wanton babe have I,
Which must be still'd with lullaby.

First lullaby my youthful years,

It is now time to go to bed:
For crooked age and hoary hairs

Have won the haven within my head.
With lullaby, then, youth be still;
With lullaby content thy will;

Since courage quails and comes behind,
Go sleep, and so beguile thy mind!

Next lullaby my gazing eyes,

Which wonted were to glance apace;

For every glass may now suffice

To show the furrows in thy face.
With lullaby then wink awhile;
With lullaby your looks beguile;
Let no fair face, nor beauty bright,
Entice you eft with vain delight.

And lullaby my wanton will;

Let reason's rule now reign thy thought;

Since all too late I find by skill

How dear I have thy fancies bought;

With lullaby now take thine ease,
With lullaby thy doubts appease;
For trust to this, if thou be still,
My body shall obey thy will.

Thus lullaby my youth, mine eyes,
My will, my ware, and all that was:
I can no more delays devise;

But welcome pain, let pleasure pass.
With lullaby now take your leave ;
With lullaby your dreams deceive;
And when you rise with waking eye,
Remember then this lullaby.

48.

ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE

The Night is Near Gone

EY! now the day dawis;

HEY

The jolly cock crawis;

Now shroudis the shawis

Thro' Nature anon.
The thissel-cock cryis

On lovers wha lyis:
Now skaillis the skyis;

The nicht is neir gone.

The fieldis ouerflowis
With gowans that growis,
Quhair lilies like low is

As red as the rone.

48. shroudis] dress themselves. shawis] woods.

clears.

gowans] daisies.

low] flame.

1540?-1610?

skaillis]

rone] rowan.

The turtle that true is,
With notes that renewis,
Her pairty pursuis:

The nicht is neir gone.

Now hairtis with hindis
Conform to their kindis,
Hie tursis their tyndis

On ground quhair they grone.
Now hurchonis, with hairis,

Aye passis in pairis ;

Quhilk duly declaris

The nicht is ǹeir gone.

The season excellis

Through sweetness that smellis;
Now Cupid compellis

Our hairtis echone
On Venus wha waikis,
To muse on our maikis,
Syne sing, for their saikis-
'The nicht is neir gone!'

All courageous knichtis
Aganis the day dichtis

The breist-plate that bright is
To fight with their fone.
The stoned steed stampis

Through courage, and crampis,
Syne on the land lampis:

The nicht is neir gone.

pairty] partner, mate.

grone] groan, bell. mates. fone] foes. lampis] gallops.

tursis] carry.

tyndis] antlers. maikis]

crampis] prances.

hurchonis] hedgehogs, 'urchins.'
stoned steed] stallion.

49.

The freikis on feildis
That wight wapins weildis
With shyning bright shieldis
At Titan in trone;
Stiff speiris in reistis.
Ouer corseris crestis

Are broke on their breistis :
The nicht is neir gone.

So hard are their hittis,
Some sweyis, some sittis,
And some perforce flittis

On ground quhile they grone.
Syne groomis that gay is
On blonkis that brayis
With swordis assayis :—

The nicht is neir gone.

WILLIAM STEVENSON

Folly Good Ale and Old

I CANNOT eat but little meat,

My stomach is not good;

But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I nothing am a-cold;

I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.

Back and side go bare, go bare ;
Both foot and hand go cold;

48. freikis] men, warriors.

1530?-1575

wight wapins] stout weapons. flittis] are

at Titan] over against Titan (the sun), or read 'as.'

But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

I love no roast but a nut-brown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire;

A little bread shall do me stead ;.
Much bread I not desire.

No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if I wold;

I am so wrapp'd and thoroughly lapp'd
Of jolly good ale and old.

Back and side go bare, go bare, &c.
And Tib, my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she till ye may see
The tears run down her cheek:
Then doth she trowl to me the bowl
Even as a maltworm should,

And saith, Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old.'

Back and side go bare, go bare, &c.

Now let them drink till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do;

They shall not miss to have the bliss

Good ale doth bring men to;

And all poor souls that have scour'd bowls
Or have them lustily troll'd,

God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old.

Back and side go bare, go bare;

Both foot and hand go cold;

But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.