My love was false, but I was firm 5 From my hour of birth. Upon my buried body lie Lightly, gentle earth! _Beaumont and Fletcher._ XXXIX _THE SHEPHERD’S PRAISE OF HIS SACRED DIANA._ Praised be Diana’s fair and harmless light, Praised be the dews, wherewith she moists the ground: Praised be her beams, the glory of the night, Praised be her power, by which all powers abound. Praised be her nymphs, with whom she decks the woods, Praised be her knights, in whom true honour lives: 6 Praised be that force by which she moves the floods, Let that Diana shine which all these gives. In heaven Queen she is among the spheres, She, mistress-like, makes all things to be pure; 10 Eternity in her oft change she bears, She beauty is, by her the fair endure. Time wears her not, she doth his chariot guide, Mortality below her orb is placed; By her the virtue of the stars down slide, 15 In her is Virtue’s perfect image cast. A knowledge pure it is her worth to know: With Circe let them dwell that think not so. _Anon._ XL _TRUE GROWTH._ It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make men better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere. A lily of a day 5 Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night; It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see, And in short measures life may perfect be. 10 _Ben Jonson._ XLI _THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT_ Fair stood the wind for France When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry; But putting to the main, 5 At Kaux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train, Landed King Harry. And taking many a fort, Furnished in warlike sort, 10 Marched towards Agincourt In happy hour; Skirmishing day by day With those that stopped his way, Where the French general lay 15 With all his power. Which in his height of pride, King Henry to deride, His ransom to provide To the King sending; 20 Which he neglects the while, As from a nation vile, Yet with an angry smile, Their fall portending.