Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Phyllida. | CORYDON, arise, my Corydon! | |
Titan shineth clear. | |
Corydon. | Who is it that calleth Corydon? | |
Who is it that I hear? | |
Phyl. | Phyllida, thy true love, calleth thee, | 5 |
Arise then, arise then, | |
Arise and keep thy flock with me! | |
Cor. | Phyllida, my true love, is it she? | |
I come then, I come then, | |
I come and keep my flock with thee. | 10 |
|
Phyl. | Here are cherries ripe for my Corydon; | |
Eat them for my sake. | |
Cor. | Here ‘s my oaten pipe, my lovely one, | |
Sport for thee to make. | |
Phyl. | Here are threads, my true love, fine as silk, | 15 |
To knit thee, to knit thee, | |
A pair of stockings white as milk. | |
Cor. | Here are reeds, my true love, fine and neat, | |
To make thee, to make thee, | |
A bonnet to withstand the heat. | 20 |
|
Phyl. | I will gather flowers, my Corydon, | |
To set in thy cap. | |
Cor. | I will gather pears, my lovely one, | |
To put in thy lap. | |
Phyl. | I will buy my true love garters gay, | 25 |
For Sundays, for Sundays, | |
To wear about his legs so tall. | |
Cor. | I will buy my true love yellow say, | |
For Sundays, for Sundays, | |
To wear about her middle small. | 30 |
|
Phyl. | When my Corydon sits on a hill | |
Making melody— | |
Cor. | When my lovely one goes to her wheel, | |
Singing cheerily— | |
Phyl. | Sure methinks my true love doth excel | 35 |
For sweetness, for sweetness, | |
Our Pan, that old Arcadian knight. | |
Cor. | And methinks my true love bears the bell | |
For clearness, for clearness, | |
Beyond the nymphs that be so bright. | 40 |
|
Phyl. | Had my Corydon, my Corydon, | |
Been, alack! her swain— | |
Cor. | Had my lovely one, my lovely one, | |
Been in Ida plain— | |
Phyl. | Cynthia Endymion had refused, | 45 |
Preferring, preferring, | |
My Corydon to play withal. | |
Cor. | The Queen of Love had been excused | |
Bequeathing, bequeathing, | |
My Phyllida the golden ball. | 50 |
|
Phyl. | Yonder comes my mother, Corydon! | |
Whither shall I fly? | |
Cor. | Under yonder beech, my lovely one, | |
While she passeth by. | |
Phyl. | Say to her thy true love was not here; | 55 |
Remember, remember, | |
To-morrow is another day. | |
Cor. | Doubt me not, my true love, do not fear; | |
Farewell then, farewell then! | |
Heaven keep our loves alway! | 60 |