A Pastoral of Phyllis and Corydon

On a hill there grows a flower,
    Fair befall the dainty sweet!
By that flower there is a bower,
    Where the heavenly Muses meet.

In that bower there is a chair,
    Fringèd all about with gold,
Where doth sit the fairest fair
    That did ever eye behold.

It is Phyllis, fair and bright,
    She that is the shepherds' joy,
She that Venus did despite,
    And did blind her little boy.

This is she, the wise, the rich,
    That the world desires to see:
This is ipsa quæ, the which
    There is none but only she.

Who would not this face admire?
    Who would not this saint adore?
Who would not this sight desire,
    Though he thought to see no more?

O, fair eyes, yet let me see,
    One good look, and I am gone:
Look on me, for I am he,
    Thy poor silly Corydon.

Thou that art the shepherds' queen,
    Look upon thy silly swain;
By thy comfort have been seen
    Dead men brought to life again.

Nicholas Breton

Nicholas Breton was an English poet and novelist. He became notable in his time for his wide range of works, from pastoral poetry to satire. Over the years, Breton developed a distinctive style marked by its versatility and lyrical beauty. Some of his more famous works include 'The Pilgrimage to Paradise' and 'A Floorish Upon Fancie.' His contribution to the literary landscape of his era remains impactful.

Nicholas Breton

The Passionate Shepherd.

Nicholas Breton, Simple Poetry

Another of the Same (A Report Song in a Dream)

Nicholas Breton, Simple Poetry

Corydon's Supplication to Phyllis

Nicholas Breton, Simple Poetry

Love

Nicholas Breton, Simple Poetry

English

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Astrophel's Song of Phyllida and Corydon

Fair in a morn (O fairest morn!),
    Was never morn so fair,
There shone a sun, though not the sun
    That shineth in the air.
For the earth, and from the earth,
    (Was never such a creature!)
Did come this face (was never face
    That carried such a feature).
Upon a hill (O blessèd hill!
    Was never hill so blessèd),
There stood a man (was never man
    For woman so distressed):
This man beheld a heavenly view,
    Which did such virtue give
As clears the blind, and helps the lame,
    And makes the dead man live.
This man had hap (O happy man!
    More happy none than he);
For he had hap to see the hap
    That none had hap to see.
This silly swain (and silly swains
    Are men of meanest grace):
Had yet the grace (O grac...

Nicholas Breton

Corydon's Supplication to Phyllis

Sweet Phyllis, if a silly swain
    May sue to thee for grace,
See not thy loving shepherd slain
    With looking on thy face;
But think what power thou hast got
    Upon my flock and me;
Thou seest they now regard me not,
    But all do follow thee.
And if I have so far presumed,
    With prying in thine eyes,
Yet let not comfort be consumed
    That in thy pity lies;
But as thou art that Phyllis fair,
    That fortune favour gives,
So let not love die in despair
    That in thy favour lives.
The deer do browse upon the briar,
    The birds do pick the cherries;
And will not Beauty grant Desire
    One handful of her berries?
If it be so that thou hast sworn
    That none shall look on thee,
Yet let me know thou dost not scorn

Nicholas Breton

Phyllida And Corydon

In the merry month of May,
In a morn by break of day,
With a troop of damsels playing
Forth I rode, forsooth, a-maying,
When anon by a woodside,
Where as May was in his pride,
I espied, all alone,
Phyllida and Corydon.

Much ado there was, God wot!
He would love, and she would not:
She said, never man was true;
He says, none was false to you.
He said, he had loved her long:
She says, Love should have no wrong.

Corydon would kiss her then,
She says, maids must kiss no men,
Till they do for good and all.
Then she made the shepherd call
All the heavens to witness, truth
Never loved a truer youth.
Thus with many a pretty oath,
Yea, and nay, and faith and troth! -
Such as silly shepherds use
When they will not love abus...

Nicholas Breton

Bagatelle

CORYDON

A PASTORAL

SCENE: A roadside in Arcady

SHEPHERD.

Good sir, have you seen pass this way
A mischief straight from market-day?
You'd know her at a glance, I think;
Her eyes are blue, her lips are pink;
She has a way of looking back
Over her shoulder, and, alack!
Who gets that look one time, good sir,
Has naught to do but follow her.


PILGRIM.

I have not seen this maid, methinks,
Though she that passed had lips like pinks.


SHEPHERD.

Or like two strawberries made one
By some sly trick of dew and sun.


PILGRIM.

A poet!


SHEPHERD.

Nay, a simple swain
That tends his flock on yonder plain,
Naught else, I swear by book and bell.
Bu...

Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Phillida And Corydon

In the merrie moneth of Maye,
In a morne by break of daye,
With a troope of damselles playing
Forthe 'I yode' forsooth a maying;

When anon by a wood side,
Where that Maye was in his pride,
I espied all alone
Phillida and Corydon.

Much adoe there was, God wot:
He wold love, and she wold not.
She sayde, "Never man was trewe;"
He sayes, "None was false to you."

He sayde, hee had lovde her longe;
She sayes, love should have no wronge.
Corydon wold kisse her then;
She sayes, "Maydes must kisse no men,

"Tyll they doe for good and all."
When she made the shepperde call
All the heavens to wytnes truthe,
Never loved a truer youthe.

Then with manie a prettie othe,
Yea and nay, and faithe and trothe,
Suche as se...

George Wharton Edwards

A Sweet Pastoral

Good Muse, rock me asleep
    With some sweet harmony:
The weary eye is not to keep
    Thy wary company.

Sweet Love, begone awhile,
    Thou knowest my heaviness:
Beauty is born but to beguile
    My heart of happiness.

See how my little flock,
    That loved to feed on high,
Do headlong tumble down the rock,
    And in the valley die.

The bushes and the trees
    That were so fresh and green,
Do all their dainty colour leese,
    And not a leaf is seen.

The blackbird and the thrush,
    That made the woods to ring,
With all the rest, are now at hush,
    And not a note they sing.

Sweet Philomel, the bird
    That hath the heavenly throat,
Doth now alas! not once afford
    Recording of a note.<...

Nicholas Breton