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A True Love

WHAT sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see:

   What dear delight the blooms to bees: my true Love is to me.

   As fresh and lusty vere foul winter doth exceed:

As morning bright, with scarlet sky, doth pass the evening's weed*:            [garment]

   As mellow pears above the crabs* esteemed be:           [crab apples]

So doth my Love surmount them all, whom yet I hap to see.

   The oak shall olives bear: the lamb, the lion fray*:            [frighten]

The owl shall match the nightingale, in tuning of her lay:

   Or I my Love let slip out of mine entire heart:

So deep reposed in my breast is she, for her desert.

   For many blessed gifts, O happy, happy land:

Where Mars and Pallas strive to make their glory most to stand

   Yet, land, more is thy bliss: that, in this cruel age,

A Venus imp, thou hast brought forth, so steadfast and so sage.

   Among the Muses nine, a tenth if Jove would make:

And to the Graces three, a fourth: her would Apollo take.

   Let some for honour hunt, and hoard the massy gold:

With her so I may live and die, my weal* can not be told.            [happiness]

Nicholas Grimald

Man's Life After Posidonius, or Crates

WHAT path list* you to tread? What trade will you assay?            [like, wish, want]

The courts of plea, by brawl & bat, drive gentle peace away.

In house, for wife and child, there is but cark, and care:

With travail, and with toil enough, in fields we used to fare.

Upon the seas lieth dread, the rich, in foreign land,

Do fear the loss: and there, the poor, like misers poorly stand.

Strife, with a wife, without, your thrift full hard to see:

Young brats, a trouble: none at all, a maim it seems to be:

Youth, fond*: age hath no heart, and pincheth all to nigh.            [foolish]

Choose then the liefer* of these two, no life, or soon to die.            [more desirable]

Nicholas Grimald

The Garden

THE issue of great Jove, draw near you, Muses nine:

Help us to praise the blissful plot of garden ground so fine.

The garden gives good food, and aid for leech's* cure:            [doctor]

The garden, full of great delight, his master doth allure.

Sweet sallet* herbs be here, and herbs of every kind;             [salad]

The ruddy grapes, the seemly fruits be here at hand to find.

Here pleasance* wanteth not, to make a man full fain**:             [pleasure : willing]

Here marvelous the mixture is of solace, and of gain.

To water sundry seeds, the furrow by the way

A running river, trilling down with liquor, can convey.

Behold, with lively hue, fair flowers that shine so bright:

With riches, like the orient gems, they paint the mould* in sight.             [soil]

Bees, humming with soft sound, (their murmur is so small),

Of blooms and blossoms suck the tops, on dewed leaves they fall

The creeping vine holds down her own bewedded elms:

And, wandering out with branches thick, reeds folded overwhelms.

Trees spread their coverts wide, with shadows fresh and gay:

Full well their branched boughs defend the fervent sun away.

Birds chatter, and some chirp, and some sweet tunes do yield:

All mirthful, with their songs so blithe, they make both air and field.

The garden it allures, it feeds, it glads the sprite*:             [spirit]

From heavy hearts all doleful dumps the garden chaseth quite.

Strength it restores to limbs, draws, and fulfills the sight:

with cheer revives the senses all, and maketh labour light.

O, what deights to us the garden ground doth bring?

Seed, leaf, flower, fruit, herb, bee, and tree & more than I may sing.

Nicholas Grimald

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