Analys'd in Leander! O black change! Trumpets, do you, with thunder of your clange, Drive out this change's horror! My voice faints: Where all joy was, now shriek out all complaints!" Thus cried she; for her mixed soul could tell Her love was dead: and when the Morning fell Prostrate upon the weeping earth for woe, Blushes, that bled out of her cheeks, did show Leander brought by Neptune, bruis'd and torn With cities' ruins he to rocks had worn, To filthy usuring rocks, that would have blood, Though they could get of him no other good. She saw him, and the sight was much-much more Than might have serv'd to kill her: should her store Of giant sorrows speak?--Burst,--die,--bleed, And leave poor plaints to us that shall succeed. She fell on her love's bosom, hugg'd it fast, And with Leander's name she breath'd her last. Neptune for pity in his arms did take them, Flung them into the air, and did awake them Like two sweet birds, surnam'd th' Acanthides, Which we call Thistle-warps, that near no seas Dare ever come, but still in couples fly, And feed on thistle-tops, to testify The hardness of their first life in their last; The first, in thorns of love, that sorrows past: And so most beautiful their colours show As none (so little) like them; her sad brow A sable velvet feather covers quite, Even like the forehead-cloth that, in the night, Or when they sorrow, ladies use to wear: Their wings, blue, red, and yellow, mix'd appear; Colours that, as we construe colours, paint Their states to life;--the yellow shows their saint, The dainty Venus, left them; blue, their truth; The red and black, ensigns of death and ruth. And this true honour from their love-death sprung,-- They were the first that ever poet sung. MINOR POEMS BY CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE COME live with me, and be my love; And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Woods or steepy mountain yields. And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies; A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair-lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold; A belt of straw and ivy-buds, With coral clasps and amber studs: An if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love. The shepherd-swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me, and be my love. FRAGMENT _First printed in "England's Parnassus,"_ 1600 I WALK'D along a stream, for pureness rare, Brighter than sun-shine; for it did acquaint The dullest sight with all the glorious prey That in the pebble-paved channel lay.