_Row:_ Those eyes of hers that are more cleere, _Cho:_ Then silly shepheards can in song expresse, _Row:_ Then be his beams that rule the yeare, _Cho:_ Fy on that prayse, 10 In striuing things to rayse: That doth but make them lesse. _Row:_ That doe the flowery spring prolong, _Cho:_ So much the earth doth in her presence ioy, _Row:_ And keeps the plenteous summer young: _Cho:_ And doth asswage The wrathfull winters rage That would our flocks destroy. _Row:_ _Ioue_ saw her brest that naked lay, _Cho:_ A sight alone was fit for _Ioue_ to see: 20 _Row:_ And swore it was the milkie way, _Cho:_ Of all most pure, The path (we vs assure) Vnto _Ioues_ court to be. _Row:_ He saw her tresses hanging downe. _Cho:_ That too and fro were mooued with the ayre, _Row:_ And sayd that _Ariadnes_ crowne, _Cho:_ With those compar'd: The gods should not regard Nor _Berenices_ hayre. 30 _Row:_ When she hath watch'd my flockes by night, _Cho:_ O happie were the flockes that she did keepe: _Row:_ They neuer needed _Cynthia's_ light, _Cho:_ That soone gaue place, Amazed with her grace, That did attend thy sheepe. _Row:_ Aboue where heauens hie glories are, _Cho:_ When as she shall be placed in the skies, _Row:_ She shall be calld the shepheards starre, _Cho:_ And euermore, 40 We shepheards will adore, Her setting and her rise. APPENDIX In this Appendix, I have collected certain fugitive pieces of Drayton's; chiefly commendatory verses prefixed to various friends' books. The first song is from _England's Helicon_, and is, I think, too pretty to be lost. Three of the commendatory poems are in sonnet-form, and their inclusion brings us nearer the whole number published by Drayton; of which there are doubtless a few still lacking. But I have tried to make the collection of sonnets as complete as possible. From _England's Helicon_ (1600) p. 97. Rowlands _Madrigall._ Faire Loue rest thee heere, Neuer yet was morne so cleere, Sweete be not vnkinde, Let me thy fauour finde, Or else for loue I die. Harke this pretty bubling spring, How it makes the Meadowes ring, Loue now stand my friend, Heere let all sorrow end, And I will honour thee. 10 See where little _Cupid_ lyes, Looking babies in her eyes. _Cupid_ helpe me now, Lend to me thy bowe, To wound her that wounded me.