ANONYMOUS

Of womenkind such indeed is the love,

Or the word love abused, Under which many childish desires

And conceits are excused.

But true love is a durable fire,

In the mind ever burning, Never sick, never dead, never cold,

From itself never turning.

��27. The Lover in Winter Tlaineth for the Spring

i6th Cent. (?)

O WESTERN wind, when wilt thou blow That the small rain down can rain? Christ, that my love were in my arms And I in my bed again !

��28. It a low

1 6th Cent.

E>ALOW, my babe, lie still and sleep!

• ~* It grieves me sore to see thee weep.

Wouldst thou be quiet Fse be glad, Thy mourning makes my sorrow sad: Balow my boy, thy mother's joy, Thy father breeds me great annoy Balow, la-low !

When he began to court my love, And with his sugred words me move, His faynings false and flattering cheer To me that time did not appear:

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