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The fresh Aurora springeth;

And wanton Flora flingeth

Amorous odours unto the winds delightsome.
Ah! for pity and anguish

Only my heart doth languish!

This is perhaps the prettiest specimen of poetry to be found amongst Morley's Madrigals. The music for lightness and elegance is also pre-eminent.

XCII.

My Nymph the dear, and her my dear I follow:
Truss'd is her hair in gold than gold more yellow.
Say, did you see her; the divinest creature

That ever was of feature?

O Love, the world's sweet maker,

Change her mood, and more human-minded make her.

XCIII.

I follow, lo! the footing still of my lovely cruel:
Proud of herself, that she is beauty's jewel:

And fast away she flieth, love's sweet delight deriding,
In woods and groves sweet, sweet nature's treasure hiding.
Yet cease I not pursuing; but since I thus have sought her,
Will run me out of breath, till I have caught her.

This is one of Morley's master-pieces. The adaptation of the music to the concluding line is very ingenious, the

parts being so contrived as that the voices seem to be pursuing each other up and down the gamut, and it requires good lungs not to be out of breath in the pursuit.

XCIV.

Stay, heart, run not so fast from him that loves thee,

To her that deadly hates thee.

Her sharp disdain reproves thee,

And worse than ill still rates thee.

Then let her go, and spare not;

Hold thou thyself contented and I care not.

Up, gentle swains, we'll have a round this morrow,

My love is gone, and with her go my sorrow.
O vile wretch! that so base a mind can carry ;

Thou lov❜dst her once, and why now dost thou vary?

Then straight away I haste me,

And after her will run while life shall last me.

Ah! death his force now trieth;

Flora, farewell, for, lo! thy shepherd dieth.

A good picture of the conflicting passions in a lover's breast. One minute he is all proud disdain ;—let her go, I care not! the next sees him at his mistress's feet, vowing to expire by reason of her cruelty.

The eighth line reminds me of Lockit's song in the Beggar's Opera:

"I hang your husband, child, 't is true,
“But with him hang your care.”

XCV.

Hark! Hallelujah! cheerly

With angels now he singeth,
That here loved music dearly:

Whose echo Heaven ringeth,

Where thousand Cherubs hover
About th' eternal Mover.

This is entitled "A reverend memorial of that honor"able true gentleman, Henry Noel, Esquier," one of the Court gallants of those times, who died in 1596, and upon whose name Queen Elizabeth made the following rebus: "The word of denial, and letter of fifty,

"Is that gentleman's name that will never be thrifty." Walpole's Royal and Noble Authors.

Of the two following works Morley was merely the Editor.

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"Canzonets, or little short Songs to four voices, selected "out of the best and approved Italian Authors, by Thomas Morley, Gent. of Her Majesty's Chapel. Imprinted at "London, by Peter Short, dwelling on Bread Street Hill, "at the sign of the Star, and are there to be sold, 1597.”

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Madrigals to five voices, selected out of the best ap"proved Italian Authors, by Thomas Morley, Gent. of Her "Majesty's Royal Chapel. At London, printed by Thomas 66 Este, 1598."

The first of these publications is dedicated to "The "Worshipful Maister Henrie Tapsfield, Citizen and Grocer

"of the Cittie of London," and contains twenty Madrigals; the last, to "The Worshipful Sir Gervis Clifton, Knight," and contains twenty-four. The poetry (probably by Morley himself,) is so wretched, that I only insert a few that are in use at the Madrigal Society.

XCVI.

Lo! Ladies, where my love comes,

All clad in green, and youthfully he shows it.

Heart's grief none feels, but she that soundly knows it.
My heart will break asunder,

And daunt my senses more than bolts of thunder;

Rest sweetly in his keeping,

Which causeth me to wake, when he lies sleeping.

Music by Rugiero Giovanelli, 1580.

XCVII.

My Lady still abhors me,
Supposing by her flying
Some time to breed my dying.
Slay me, slay me; fly me, fly me:
Yet your flight shall not destroy me.

Music by Giov. Ferretti, 1575.

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XCVIII.

Delay breeds danger, and how may that be wrested;

By slaight to shun delaying.

Very vile is that vice, ever detested ;

Each lover's suit bewraying.

Thrice happy men do say, is that sweet wooing,

Where love may still be noted swift in doing.

Music by Rugiero Giovanelli, 1580.

The old proverb is,

"Blessed is the wooing

"That is not long a doing.”

"What needs," quoth Burton, "such scrupulosity, so 66 many circumstances? Dido and Æneas were accidentally "driven by a storm both into one cave, and made a match upon it. A certain Lacedæmonian gentleman had a many daughters to bestow, and means enough for them "all: he never stood enquiring after great matches, as "others used to do, but sent for a company of brave young 'gallants home to his house, and bid his daughters choose 66 every one, one whom she liked best, and take him for her “husband without more ado; which act of his was much "approved in those times."

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XCIX.

Hark and give ear, you lovers so besotted;
No life, no breath; and yet no death allotted.
Phillis fair gave me a flower

Wherein my heart was lodged in a strong tower;

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