DOWN in a garden sits my dearest Love, | |
| Her skin more white than is the Down of Swan, | |
| More tender-hearted than the Turtle Dove, | |
| And far more kind than is the Pelican; | |
| I courted her, she blushing, rose and said, | 5 |
| “Why was I born to live and die a Maid?” | |
| |
| “If that be all your grief, my Sweet,” said I, | |
| “I soon shall ease you of your care and pain,— | |
| Yielding a mean to cure your misery, | |
| That you no more shall cause have to complain, | 10 |
| Then be content, Sweeting,” to her, I said; | |
| “Be ruled by me, thou shalt not die a Maid. | |
| |
| “A Medicine for thy grief I can procure, | |
| Then wail no more (my Sweet) in discontent; | |
| My love to thee for ever shall endure, | 15 |
| I’ll give no cause whereby thou shouldst repent | |
| The Match we make; for I will constant prove | |
| To thee my Sweeting, and my dearest Love. | |
| |
| “Then sigh no more, but wipe thy wat’ry eyes, | |
| Be not perplexed, my Honey, at the heart: | 20 |
| Thy beauty doth my heart and thoughts surprise; | |
| Then yield me love, to end my burning smart: | |
| Shrink not from me, my bonny Love,” I said; | |
| “For I have vowed, thou shall not die a Maid. | |
| |
| “Pity it were, so fair a one as you, | 25 |
| Adorned with Nature’s chiefest Ornaments, | |
| Should languish thus in pain, I tell you true: | |
| Yielding in love, all danger still prevents; | |
| Then seem not coy, nor, Love, be not afraid, | |
| But yield to me: thou shalt not die a Maid. | 30 |
| |
| “Yield me some comfort, Sweeting, I entreat, | |
| For I am now tormented at the heart, | |
| My affection’s pure, my love to thee is great, | |
| Which makes me thus my thoughts to thee impart: | |
| I love thee dear, and shall do evermore; | 35 |
| O pity me; for love I now implore!” | |
| |
| For her I plucked a pretty Marigold, | |
| Whose leaves shut up even with the Evening Sun, | |
| Saying, “Sweetheart, look now, and do behold | |
| A pretty Riddle in it to be shown: | 40 |
| This Leaf shut in, even like a Cloistered Nun, | |
| Yet will it open when it feels the Sun. | |
| |
| “What mean you by this Riddle, Sir?” she said; | |
| “I pray expound it.” Then he thus began: | |
| “Women were made for Men, and Men for Maids.” | 45 |
| With that she changed her colour, and looked wan. | |
| “Since you this Riddle to me so well have told, | |
| Be you my Sun, I’ll be your Marigold.” | |
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THE SECOND PART I GAVE consent, and thereto did agree | |
| To sport with her within that lovely Bower: | 50 |
| I pleasèd her, and she likewise pleased me— | |
| Jove found such pleasures in a Golden Shower. | |
| Our Sports being ended, then she, blushing, said, | |
| “I have my wish, for now I am no Maid. | |
| |
| “But, Sir,” (quoth she,) “from me you must not part, | 55 |
| Your company so well I do effect; | |
| My love you have, now you have won my heart, | |
| Your loving self for ever I respect: | |
| Then go not from me, gentle Sir,” quoth she, | |
| “’Tis death to part, my gentle Love, from thee. | 60 |
| |
| “The kindness you, good Sir, to me have shown, | |
| Shall never be forgot, whilst Life remains: | |
| Grant me thy love, and I will be thine own, | |
| Yield her relief, that now for love complains: | |
| O leave me not, to languish in despair, | 65 |
| But stay with me, to ease my heart of care. | |
| |
| “Your Marigold for ever I will be; | |
| Be you my Sun; ’tis all I do desire: | |
| Your heating Beams yield comfort unto me, | |
| My love to you is fervent and entire— | 70 |
| Let yours, good Sir, I pray be so to me, | |
| For I hold you my chief felicity. | |
| |
| “Content within your company I find, | |
| Yield me some comfort, gentle Sir, I pray, | |
| To ease my grief and my tormented mind: | 75 |
| My love is firm, and never shall decay: | |
| So constant still (my Sweet,) I’ll prove to you, | |
| Loyal in thoughts, my love shall still be true.” | |
| |
| “Content thyself,” (quoth he,) “my only Dear, | |
| In love to thee I will remain as pure | 80 |
| As Turtle to her Mate: to thee I swear | |
| My constant love for ever shall endure: | |
| Then weep no more, sweet comfort I’ll thee yield, | |
| Thy beauteous Face my heart hath filled.” | |
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| Comfort she found, and straight was made a Wife; | 85 |
| It was the only thing she did desire: | |
| And she enjoys a Man loves her as life, | |
| And will do ever, till his date expire. | |
| And this for truth, report hast to me told, | |
| He is her Sun, and she his Marigold. | 90 |
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