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.
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A16274.0001.001
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 June 7, 2024.

Pages

¶Coridons Song.

A Blithe and bonny Country-Lasse, heigh hoe bonny-Lasse, Sate sighing on the tender grasse, and weeping said: will none come wooe me? A smicker Boy, a lither Swaine: heigh hoe a smicker Swaine: That in his loue was wanton faine, with smiling lookes straight came vnto her.
When as the wanton Wench espied, heigh hoe when she espied, The meanes to make her selfe a Bride, she simpred smooth like bonnie-bell:

Page [unnumbered]

The Swaine that saw her squint-eyed kinde, heigh hoe squint-eyed kinde, His armes about her body twin'd and said, Faire Lasse, how fare ye, well?
The Countrie-Kit said, well forsooth, heigh hoe well forsooth, But that I haue a longing tooth, a longing tooth that makes me crie: Alas (said he) what garres thy griefe, heigh hoe what garres thy griefe? A wound (quoth she) without reliefe, I feare a mayd that I shall die.
If that be all, the Shepheard sayd, heigh hoe the Shepheard sayd, He make thee wiue it gentle Mayde, and so recure thy maladie: Hereon they kist with many an oath, heigh hoe many an oath, And fore God Pan did plight their troath, so to the Church apace they hie.
And God send euery pretty peate, heigh hoe the pretty peate, That feares to die of this conceit, so kinde a friend to helpe at last: Then Maydes shall neuer long againe, heigh hoe to long againe. When they finde ease for such a paine. thus my Roundelay is past.
FINIS.

Thom. Lodge.

Do you have questions about this content? Need to report a problem? Please contact us.