Description and Praise of his Love
Geraldine

FROM Tuscane came my lady's worthy race;
Fair Florence was sometime their ancient seat.
The western isle whose pleasant shore doth face
Wild Camber's cliffs, did give her lively heat.
Fostered she was with milk of Irish breast:
Her sire an earl; her dame of Prince's blood.
From tender years, in Britain doth she rest,
With kinges child; where she tasteth costly food.
Hunsdon did first present her to mine eyen:
Bright is her hue, and Geraldine she hight.
Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine;
And Windsor, alas! doth chase me from her sight.
Her beauty of kind; her virtues from above;
Happy is he that can obtain her love!

A Praise of his Love

WHEREIN HE REPROVETH THEM THAT COMPARE THEIR LADIES WITH HIS

GIVE place, ye lovers, here before

Than spent your boasts and brags in vain ;

My lady's beauty passeth more

The best of yours, I dare well sayen,

Than doth the sun the candle light,

Or brightest day the darkest night.

benry boward

And thereto hath a troth as just
As had Penelope the fair;

For what she saith, ye may it trust,
As it by writing sealed were:
And virtues hath she many mo'
Than I with pen have skill to show.

I could rehearse, if that I would,
The whole effect of Nature's plaint,
When she had lost the perfect mould,
The like to whom she could not paint :
With wringing hands, how she did cry,
And what she said, I know it, aye.

I know she swore with raging mind,
Her kingdom only set apart,

There was no loss by law of kind

That could have gone so near her heart;

And this was chiefly all her pain;

'She could not make the like again.

Sith Nature thus gave her the praise,
To be the chiefest work she wrought;
In faith, methink! some better ways
On your behalf might well be sought,
Than to compare, as ye have done,
To match the candle with the sun.

Micbolas Grimald

There is some reason to believe that Nicholas Grimald (Grimoald or Grimaold) was the editor of the miscellany published by Tottel (Songes and Sonnettes, written by the ryght honorable Lorde Henry Haward, late Earle of Surrey, and other. Apud Richardum Tottel, 1557. Cum privilegio) in which the poems of Surrey and Wyatt were first printed. He contributed to the collection, and two of his pieces were in blank verse. The dates of his birth and death are given as 1519 and 1563, but there is no proof of the accuracy of either. He was a Huntingdonshire man, a Fellow of Merton, and a lecturer on rhetoric at Christ Church.

A True Love

WHAT sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see, What dear delight the blooms to bees, my true Love is

to me;

As fresh and lusty Ver foul Winter doth exceed,

As morning bright with scarlet sky doth pass the evening's

weed,

As mellow pears above the crabs esteemed be,

So doth my Love surmount them all, whom yet I hap to

see.

The oak shall olives bear, the lamb the lion fray,

The owl shall match the nightingale in tuning of her lay,

Or I my Love let slip out of mine entire heart:

So deep reposed in my breast is She for her desert.

For many blessed gifts, O happy, happy land!

Nicholas Grimald

Where Mars and Pallas strive to make their glory most to

stand;

Yet, land! more is thy bliss that in this cruel age

A Venus imp thou hast brought forth, so steadfast and so

sage.

Among the Muses nine a tenth if Jove would make,

And to the Graces three a fourth, Her would Apollo take.
Let some for honour hunt, or hoard the massy gold:
With Her so I may live and die, my weal can not be told.

John Barrington

was held in favour by Queen Elizabeth on account of his early attachment to her cause. The following poem, which has often been attributed to his son, Sir John, was written 'on Isabella Markham, when I first thought her Fair; as she stood at the Princess's Window, in goodly Attire, and talked to Divers in

the Courtyard.' He died in 1582.

Whence comes my Love

WHENCE Comes my love? O heart! disclose :
'Twas from her cheeks that shame the rose,
From lips that spoil the ruby's praise,
From eyes that mock the diamond's blaze.
Whence comes my woe? as freely own:
Ah me! 'twas from a heart like stone.

The blushing cheek speaks modest mind,
The lips befitting words most kind;

The eye does tempt to love's desire,
And seems to say-'tis Cupid's fire:
Yet all so fair but speak my moan,
Sith nought doth say the heart of stone.

Why thus, my love, so kind bespeak

Sweet eye, sweet lip, sweet blushing cheek;
Yet not a heart to save my pain?

O Venus! take thy gifts again :

Make not so fair, to cause our moan,
Or make a heart that's like our own.