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"spent some months in Germany, to my great admiration "of that worthy country, I past over the Alps into Italy, "where I found the cities furnished with all good arts, "but especially music. What favour and estimation I "had in Venice, Padua, Genoa, Ferrara, Florence, and "divers other places, I willingly suppress, lest I should in any way seem partial in mine own endeavours. Yet can "I not dissemble the great content I found in the proffer'd amity of the most famous Luca Marenzio, whose sundry "letters I received from Rome; and one of them, because "it is but short, I have thought good to set down, not thinking it any disgrace to be proud of the judgment of so excellent a man.

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"Molto magnifico Signior mio osservandissimo,

“Per una lettera del Signior Alberigo Malvezi, ho inteso "quanto con cortese affetto si mostri desideroso di essermi "congionto d'amicitia, dove infinitamente la ringrazio di questo suo buon'animo, offerendo megli' all' incontro, se “in alcuna cosa la posso servire, poi che gli meriti delle sue infinite virtù, et qualità, meritano che ogni uno et l' ammirino et osservino, et per fine di questo le bascio "le mani. Di Roma á 13 di Juglio, 1595.

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me

"D. V. S. Affettionatissimo Servitore,

"LUCA MAREnzio.

"Not to stand too long upon my travels, I will only name that worthy Maister Giovanni Croce, Vicemaster "of the Chapel of St. Mark's in Venice, with whom I had "familiar conference. And thus what experience I could 'gather abroad, I am now ready to practise at home, if I may but find encouragement in my first essays.

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"There have been divers lute lessons of mine lately "printed without my knowledge, false and imperfect, but "I purpose shortly myself to set forth the choicest of all "my lessons in print, and also an introduction for finger

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'ing, with other books of songs, whereof this is the first; "and as this finds favour with you, so shall I be affected "to labour in the rest. Farewell.

The

"J. DOWLAND."

songs in this set are twenty-one in number.

CLVI.

Now, O now, I needs must part,
Parting tho' I absent mourn;

Absence can no joy impart,

Joy once fled cannot return.

While I live, I needs must love,
Love lives not when life is gone;

Now at last despair doth prove
Love divided loveth none.

Sad despair doth drive me hence,
This despair unkindness sends:

If that parting be offence,

It is she which then offends.

Dear, when I from thee am gone,
Gone are all my joys at once;

I loved thee and thee alone,
In whose love I joyed once.

And altho' your sight I leave,
Sight wherein my joys do lie;
Till that death do sense bereave,
Never shall affection die.

The above lines are rather over-laboured and sententious, and fatigue the ear. It is otherwise a pretty and tender conception for a parting sonnet. The music is sweetness

itself.

CLVII.

Unquiet thoughts, your cruel slaughter stint;
And wrap your wrongs within a pensive heart;
And you my tongue that makes my mouth a mint,
And stamps my thoughts to coin them words by art,
Be still-for if you ever do the like,

I'll cut the string that makes the hammer strike.

Yet while I gaze upon my mistress' eyes,

My thoughts must have some vent, else heart will break; My tongue would rust as in my mouth it lies,

If thoughts were free, and it forbid to speak.

Speak then-and tell the passions of desire,
Which turn mine eyes to floods, my thoughts to fire.

CLVIII.

Go, crystal tears, like to the morning showers,
And sweetly weep into my lady's breast:
And as the dews revive the drooping flowers,
So let your drops of pity be addrest,

To quicken up the thoughts of my desert,
Which sleep too sound, whilst I from her depart.

Haste, happy sighs, and let your burning breath
Dissolve the ice of her indurate heart,

Whose frozen rigour like forgetful death,
Feels never any touch of my desert.

My sighs and tears to her I sacrifice,
Both from a spotless heart and patient eyes.

CLIX.

All

ye

All

All

ye

whom love or fortune hath betray'd,

ye that dream of bliss, but live in grief;
whose hopes are evermore delay'd,

All ye whose sighs or sickness want relief;
Lend ears and tears to me, most hapless man,
That sing my sorrows like the dying swan*.
Care that consumes the heart with inward pain,
Pain that presents sad care in outward view,
Both tyrant like enforce me to complain;

But still in vain, for none my plaints will rue. Tears, sighs, and ceaseless cries alone I spend, My woe wants comfort, and my sorrow end.

* Vide No. CCXCVII.

I am inclined to think that this Madrigal and the two preceding ones are by the same author.

CLX.

Rest awhile, ye cruel cares;

Be not more severe than love;
Beauty kills and beauty spares,

And sweet smiles sad cares remove.

Laura, fair queen of my delight,

Come, grant me love in love's despite ;

And if I fail to honour thee,

Let this heavenly light I see

Be as dark as night to me.

If I speak-my words want weight;
Am I mute?-my heart doth break :
If I sigh-she fears deceit ;

Sorrow then for me doth speak.
Cruel, unkind, with favour view

The wound that first was made by you;
And if my torments feigned be,
Let this heavenly light I see

Be as dark as night to me.

CLXI.

Sleep, wayward thoughts, and rest you with my love;
Let not my love be with my love displeased;

Touch not, proud hands, lest you her anger move,
But pine you with my longings long dis-eased.
Thus while she sleeps, I sorrow for her sake;
So sleeps my love-and yet my love doth wake.