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Home  »  Elizabethan Sonnets  »  Ode 6. O fair sweet glove!

Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.

Parthenophil and Parthenophe

Ode 6. O fair sweet glove!

Barnabe Barnes (1569?–1609)

O FAIR sweet glove!

Divine token

Of her sweet love,

Sweetly broken!

By words, sweet loves She durst not move!

These gifts, her love to me do prove!

Though never spoken.

On her fair hand,

This glove once was!

None in this land

Did ever ’pass

Her hands’ fair white! Come Loves! here stand!

Let Graces’ with yours, match her hand!

Hide! hide, alas!

Graces would smile

If you should match!

Hers, yours beguile!

Hers, garlands catch

From all the Nymphs! which blush the while

To see their white outmatched a mile!

Which praise did watch.

This glove, I kiss!

And, for thy sake,

I will not miss,

But ballads make!

And every shepherd shall know this;

PARTHENOPHIL in such grace is!

Muses, awake!

For I will sing

Thy matchless praises!

And my pipes bring,

Which floods amazes!

Wild Satyrs, friskins shall outfling!

The rocks shall this day’s glory ring!

Whiles Nymphs bring daisies.

Some, woodbines bear!

Some, damask roses!

The Muses were

A-binding posies.

My goddess’ glove to herrye here

Great PAN comes in, with flowers sear,

And crowns composes!

I note this day

Once every year!

An holiday

For Her kept dear!

A hundred Swains, on pipes shall play!

And for the Glove, masque in array

With jolly cheer!

A Glove of Gold,

I will bring in!

For which Swains bold,

Shall strife begin!

And he, which loves can best unfold;

And hath in Songs, his mind best told;

The Glove shall win!

Nymphs shall resort!

And they, with flowers,

Shall deck a Fort

For paramours,

Which for this Glove, shall there contend!

Impartial Nymphs shall judgement end!

And in those bowers,

Pronounce who best

Deserved, of all!

Then by the rest

A Coronal

Of Roses, freshly shall be dresst!

And he, with that rich Glove possesst,

As Principal!