Englands Helicon. Or The Muses harmony.

¶Coridon to his Phillis.

ALas my heart, mine eye hath wronged thee, Presumptuous eye, to gaze on Phillis face: Whose heauenly eye no mortall man may see, But he must die, or purchase Phillis grace. Poore Coridon, the Nimph whose eye doth moue thee: Doth loue to draw, but is not drawne to loue thee.

Her beautie, Natures pride, and Shepheards praise, Her eye, the heauenly Planet of my life: Her matchlesse wit and grace, her fame displaies, As if that Ioue had made her for his wise. Onely her eyes shoot fierie darts to kill: Yet is her hart as cold as Caucase hill.

My wings too weake to flye against the Sunne, Mine eyes vnable to sustaine her light: My hart doth yeeld that I am quite vndone, Thus hath faire Phillis slaine me with her sight. My bud is blasted, withred is my leafe: And all my Corne is rotted in the sheafe. Phillis, the golden fetter of my minde, My fancies Idoll, and my vitall power: Goddesse of Nimphs, and honour of thy kinde, This ages Phoenix, beauties richest bower. Poore Coridon for loue of thee must die: Thy beauties thrall, and conquest of thine eye.

Leaue Coridon to plough the barren field, Thy buds of hope are blasted with disgrace: For Phillis lookes no harty loue doe yeeld, Nor can she loue, for all her louely face. Die Coridon, the spoile of Phillis eye: She cannot loue, and therefore thou must die.

FINIS.

S. E. Dyer.

〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉

〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉

〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉

〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉

〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉

〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉

〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉

〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉