ANONYMOUS (SCOTTISH) 16th Cent. so. When Flora had O'erfret the Firth UHEN Flora had o'erfret the firth Qu In May of every moneth queen ; Quhen merle and mavis singis with mirth "I luve, but I dare nocht assay !' Strong are the pains I daily prove, Only of my lady sheen, Quhilk for her beauty micht be queen, Has done depaint that sweet serene: 'She is so bricht of hyd and hue, Than ever of Greece did fair Helene: hyd] skin. o'erfret] adorned. shawis] woods. sheen] beautiful. mourn. amene] gentle and pleasant one. blinkis] gets a glimpse. mae] more. mene] dulce 51. 52. Y Lusty May O LUSTY May, with Flora queen! 16th Cent. The balmy dropis from Phoebus sheen Through gladness of this lusty May. Then Esperus, that is so bricht, With bankis that bloomis on every brae; Birdis on bewis of every birth, All luvaris that are in care In fresh morningis before the day, My Heart is High Above 16th Cent. My heart is high above, my body is full of bliss, For I am set in luve as well as I would wiss I luve my lady pure and she luvis me again, I am her serviture, she is my soverane; til] into. birth] kind. 51. sheen] bright. boughs. schouris] showers. 52. wiss] wish. bewis] She is my very heart, I am her howp and heill, I am her bond and thrall, she is at my command; We mourn when licht day dawis, we plain the nicht is short, And they will on you rue as mine has done on me. heill] health. blink on awaking. invart] inward. oxter] armpit. venust] delightful. glowffin] NUMBERS FROM ELIZABETHAN MISCELLANIES & SONG-BOOKS BY UNNAMED OR UNCERTAIN AUTHORS 53. A Praise of His Lady G Tottel's Miscellany, 1557 IVE place, you ladies, and begone! The virtue of her lively looks I wish to have none other books In each of her two crystal eyes It would you all in heart suffice I think Nature hath lost the mould She may be well compared Unto the Phoenix kind, Whose like was never seen or heard, In life she is Diana chaste, In word and eke in deed steadfast. If all the world were sought so far, Her rosial colour comes and goes More ruddier, too, than doth the rose, Within her lively face. At Bacchus' feast none shall her meet, Ne at no wanton play, Nor gazing in an open street, Nor gadding as a stray. The modest mirth that she doth use O Lord! it is a world to see Truly she doth so far exceed Our women nowadays, |