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 calmed 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,

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poem by Robert Greene
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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.

Ah! when she sings, all music else be still,
For none must be compared to her note;
Ne'er breathed such glee from Philomela's bill,
Nor from the morning-singer's swelling throat.
Ah! when she riseth from her blissful bed

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poem by Robert Greene
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Menaphon: Sephesta's Song to her Child

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Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
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When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
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Mother's wag, pretty boy,
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Father's sorrow, father's joy;
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When thy father first did see
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Such a boy by him and me,
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He was glad, I was woe,
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Fortune changed made him so,
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When he left his pretty boy
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poem by Robert Greene
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The Shepherd's Wife's Song

Ah, what is love? It is a pretty thing,
As sweet unto a shepherd as a king,
And sweeter, too:
For kings have cares that wait upon a crown,
And cares can make the sweetest love to frown:
Ah then, ah then,
If country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

His flocks are folded; he comes home at night
As merry as a king in his delight,
And merrier, too:
For kings bethink them what the state require,
Where shepherds, careless, carol by the fire:

He kisseth first, then sits at blithe to eat
His cream and curds, as doth a king his meat,
And blither, too:
For kings have often fears when they do sup,
Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup:

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poem by Robert Greene
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Sephestia's Lullaby

WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;
When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee.
   Mother's wag, pretty boy,
   Father's sorrow, father's joy;
   When thy father first did see
   Such a boy by him and me,
   He was glad, I was woe;
   Fortune changed made him so,
   When he left his pretty boy,
   Last his sorrow, first his joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;
When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee.
   Streaming tears that never stint,
   Like pearl-drops from a flint,
   Fell by course from his eyes,
   That one another's place supplies;
   Thus he grieved in every part,
   Tears of blood fell from his heart,
   When he left his pretty boy,
   Father's sorrow, father's joy.

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poem by Robert Greene
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