Tudor and Stuart Love Songs — Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke

LOVE FOR LOVE.

Away with these self-loving lads Whom Cupid's arrow never glads!

Away, poor souls, that sigh and weep, In love of them that lie and sleep!

For Cupid is a merry god, And forceth none to kiss the rod.

Sweet Cupid's shafts, like Destiny, Do causeless good or ill decree;

Desert is borne out of his bow, Reward upon his wing doth go: What fools are they that have not known That Love likes no laws but his own!

My songs, they be of Cynthia's praise: I wear her rings on holy days;

On every tree I write her name, And every day I read the same: Where Honour Cupid's rival is, There miracles are seen of his.

If Cynthia crave her ring of me, I blot her name out of the tree;

If doubt do darken things held dear, Then "farewell nothing," once a year: For many run, but one must win;

Fools only hedge the cuckoo in.

The worth that worthiness should move Is love, which is the due of love;

And love as well the shepherd can As can the mighty nobleman:-- Sweet nymph, 'tis true, you worthy be;

Yet, without love, nought worth to me.

Fulke-Greville, Lord Brooke.