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Hidden behind her target's boss they crept.
New gripes of dread then pierce our trembling breasts.
They said Lacoon's deserts had dearly bought
His heinous deed, that pierced had with steel
The sacred bulk, and thrown the wicked lance.
The people cried, with sundry greeing shouts,
To bring the horse to Pallas' temple blive,
In hope thereby the goddess' wrath t'appease.
We cleft the walls and closures of the town,
Whereto all help, and underset the feet
With sliding rolls and bound his neck with ropes.
This fatal gin thus overclamb our walls,
Stuffed with armed men; about the which there ran
Children and maids that holy carols sang,

And well were they whose hands might touch the cords.
With threatening cheer thus slided through our town
The subtle tree, to Pallas' temple-ward.
O native land! Ilion! And of the gods
The mansion place! O warlike walls of Troy!
Four times it stopped in th' entry of our gate;
Four times the harness clattered in the womb.
But we go on, unsound of memory,
And, blinded eke by rage, perséver still.
This fatal monster in the fane we place.

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THOMAS, LORD VAUX

The Introduction and Notes are at page 918

FROM RICHARD TOTTEL's Songs and Sonnets, 1557

The aged lover renounceth

love

I loathe that I did love;
In youth that I thought sweet,
As time requires for my behove,
Me thinks they are not meet.

My lusts they do me leave,
My fancies all be fled,
And tract of time begins to weave
Gray hairs upon my head.

For age, with stealing steps,

Hath clawed me with his

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FROM RICHARD EDWARDs's Paradise of Dainty Devices, 1576
A lover, disdained, complaineth

If ever man had love too dearly bought,
Lo, I am he, that plays within her maze,
And finds no way to get the same I sought;
But as the deer are driven unto the gaze.
And to augment the grief of my desire,
Myself to burn, I blow the fire.
But shall I come nigh you,

Of force I must fly you.

What death, alas, may be compared to this?

I play within the maze of my sweet foe,

And when I would of her but crave a kiss,

Disdain enforceth her away to go.

Myself I check, yet do I twist the twine;

The pleasure hers, the pain is mine.

But shall I come nigh you,

Of force I must fly you.

You courtly wights that wants your pleasant choice,
Lend me a flood of tears to wail my chance!

Happy are they in love that can rejoice,

10

To their great pains, where fortune doth advance.
For sith my suit, alas, can not prevail,
Full fraught with care in grief still will I wail,
Sith you will needs fly me,
I may not come nigh you.

No pleasure without some pain

How can the tree but waste and wither away
That hath not some time comfort of the sun?
How can that flower but fade and soon decay
That always is with dark clouds over-run?
Is this a life? Nay, death you may it call,
That feels each pain and knoweth no joy at all.

What foodless beast can live long in good plight?
Or is it life where senses there be none?
Or what availeth eyes without their light?
Or else a tongue to him that is alone?
Is this a life? Nay, death you may it call,
That feels each pain and knows no joy at all.

Whereto serve ears if that there be no sound?
Or such a head where no device doth grow?
But all of plaints, since sorrow is the ground,
Whereby the heart doth pine in deadly woe.
Is this a life? Nay, death you may it call,
That feels each pain and knows no joy at all.

Of a contented mind

When all is done and said, in the end thus shall you find,
He most of all doth bathe in bliss that hath a quiet mind;
And, clear from worldly cares, to deem can be content
The sweetest time in all his life in thinking to be spent.

The body subject is to fickle fortune's power,
And to a million of mishaps is casual every hour.
And death in time doth change it to a clod of clay,
Whenas the mind, which is divine, runs never to decay.

Companion none is like unto the mind alone,

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10

For many have been harmed by speech, through thinking few or

10

none.

Few oftentimes restraineth words, but makes not thoughts to cease, And he speaks best that hath the skill when for to hold his peace.

Our wealth leaves us at death, our kinsmen at the grave,
But virtues of the mind unto the heavens with us we have:
Wherefore, for virtue's sake, I can be well content
The sweetest time in all my life to deem in thinking spent.

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Oft to me with her goodly face
She was wont to cast an eye,
And now absence to me in place-
Alas, for woe I die, I die!

I was wont her to behold,

And taken in armës twain; And now with sighës manifold,

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Unto my heart, to make it light.

[William Cornish]

[Western wind]

Western wind, when will thou
blow?

The small rain down can rain,-
Christ, if my love were in my

arms

And I in my bed again!

[My little fool]

My little fool

Is gone to play,

She will tarry no longer with me.

Hey ho, frisk-a jolly,

Under the greenwood tree!

Hey ho, frisk-a jolly,
Under the greenwood tree!
Hey ho, frisk-a jolly.

FROM Additional Ms. 31922

[England, be glad]

England, be glad, pluck up thy lusty heart!

Help now the king, the king, and take his part.

Against the Frenchmen in the field to fight

In the quarrel of the church, and in the right,

With spears and shields on goodly horses light,

Bows and arrows to put them all to flight,

Farewell, my joy, and wel- To put them all to flight. Help come, pain.

now the king!

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