Englands Helicon. Or The Muses harmony.

About this Item

Title: Englands Helicon. Or The Muses harmony.
Publication: London :: Printed [by Thomas Snodham] for Richard More, and are to be sould at his shop in S. Dunstanes Church-yard,; 1614.
Rights/Permissions: This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. Searching, reading, printing, or downloading EEBO-TCP texts is reserved for the authorized users of these project partner institutions. Permission must be granted for subsequent distribution, in print or electronically, of this text, in whole or in part. Please contact project staff at eebotcp-info@umich.edu for further information or permissions.
Subject terms: Pastoral poetry, English.
Cite this Item: "Englands Helicon. Or The Muses harmony." In the digital collection Early English Books Online 2. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A16274.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 2, 2024.

GOrbo, as thou cam'st this way
By yonder little hill,
Or as thou through the fields didst stray,
Saw'st thou my Daffadill?

She's in a frock of Lincolne-greene,
The colour Maydes delight,
And neuer hath her Beauty seene
But through a vayle of white.

Then Roses richer to behold,
That dresse vp Louers Bowers,
The Pansie and the Marigold
Are Phoebus Paramours.

Thou well describ'st the Daffadill,
It is not full an hower
Since by the Spring neere yonder hill
I saw that louely flower.

Yet with my flower thou did'st not meete,
Nor newes of her doest bring,
Yet is my Daffadill more sweete
Then that by yonder Spring.

I saw a Shepheard that doth keepe
In yonder field of Lillies,
Was making (as he fed his sheepe)
A wreath of Daffadillies.

Yet Gorbo: thou delud'st me still,
My hower thou did'st not see.
For know; my pretty Daffadill
Is worne of none but mee.

To shew itselfe but neere her seate
No Lilly is so bold,

Except to shade her from the heate, Or keepe her from the cold.

Through yonder vale as I did passe
Descending from the hill,
I met a smerking Bonny-lasse,
They call her Daffadill.

Whose presence as a-long she went
The pretty flower did greete
As though their heads they downe-ward bent,
With homage to her feete.

And all the Shepheards that were nie,
From top of euery hill;
Vnto the Vallies loud did crie,
There goes sweet Daffadill.

I gentle Shepheard now with ioy
Thou all my Flock doest fill:
Come goe with me thou Shepheards Boy,
Let vs to Daffadill.

FINIS.

Michaell Drayton.