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Heavenly lilies with lockerand toppis white
GAWAIN Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld. Burmckyn, barbican; pers, light blue; burnet, brownish: gules, scarlet ; fuuchcolour, fawn; celestial gre, sky-blue ; haw-waly, dark-waved; lite, little : flower. dumurs, damask rose ; rose-knobbis tetand, rose-buds peeping; kyth, show ; locherand, curling; redemite, crowned; croppis, heads.
ARRANGEMENTS OF A BOUQUET.
Here damask roses, white and red,
Out of my lap first take I,
My chiefest flower this make I.
Among these roses in a row,
Next place I pinks in plenty,
And will not this be dainty?
The pretty pansy then I'll tie
Like stones some chain enchasing;
The purple violet placing.
The curious choice clove July flower,
Whose kind hight the car
Shall help my wreath to fashion;
Whose sundry colors of one kind,
First from one root derived,
My garland so contrived.
A course of cowslips then I'll stick,
And here and there (so sparely)
Like pearls that will show rarely ;
Then with these marigolds I'll make
My garland somewhat swelling,
Whose sweets shall help their smelling.
For color much contending,
They are but poor in scenting ;
The daffodil most dainty is,
To match with these in meetness;
All much alike for sweetness.
These in their natures only are
Fit to emboss the border,
To place them in their order :
One by another neatly :
MICHAEL DRAYTON, 1563-1631.
Flying between the cold moon and the earth,
W. SHAKSPEARE, 1564-1616. THE GARLAND.
The pride of every grove I chose,
The violet sweet, the lily fair,
To deck my charming Chloe's hair.
Upon her brow the various wreath ;
The scent less fragrant than her breath.
The flowers she wore along the day;
And every nymph and shepherd said, That in her hair they look'd more gay
Than glowing in their native bed. Undress'd at evening, when she found
Their odors lost, their colors past, She changed her look, and on the ground
Her garland and her eye she cast. That eye dropp'd sense distinct and clear,
As any Muse's tongue could speak, When from its lid a pearly tear
Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek. Dissembling what I knew too well,
“ My love, my life,” said I, “explain This change of humor; pr’ythee tell :
That falling tear-what does it mean?" She sigh’d; she smiled : and to the flowers
Pointing, the lovely moralist said-
See yonder, what a change is made !"
And that of beauty, are but one: At morn both flourish bright and gay;
Both fade at evening, pale, and gone. At dawn poor Stella danced and sung,
The amorous youth around her bow'd : At night her fatal knell was rung;
I saw and kiss'd her in her shroud.