Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
Parthenophil and ParthenopheOde 11. Lovely Maya! Hermes’ mother
Barnabe Barnes (1569?–1609)L
Of fair F
To whom this sweet month is commended,
This month more sweet than any other,
By thy sweet sovereignty defended.
Fragrant violets, and sweet mynthe,
Matched with purple hyacinth:
Of these, each where, Nymphs make trim posies,
Praising their mother B
Go flocking up and down the mead!
A troup of lovely Nymphs do tread!
And dearnly dancing on yon plains:
Each doth, in course, her hornpipe lead!
They bring in hawthorn and sweet briar:
And damask roses, they would bear;
But them, they leave till they be riper.
The rest, round Morrises dance there!
Unto the lovely Nymphs they haste!
Who, there, in decent order placed,
Expect who shall Queen F
And with the May Crown, chiefly graced?
One leads his wench a Country Round;
Another sits upon the ground;
And doth his beard from drivel wipe,
Because he would be handsome found.
To hear the herdgrooms wooing speeches!
Whiles one to dance, his girl beseeches.
The lead-heeled lazy luskins louping,
Fling out, in their new motley breeches!
The batch’lor Swains, and young Nymphs met;
Where in an arbour, they were set.
Thither, to choose a Queen, they came,
And soon concluded her to fet.
P
Whose beauty all the Nymphs above,
Did put the lovely Graces down.
The Swains, with shouts, rocks’ echoes move!
The leaden galliards, for her sake!
To hear those songs, the Shepherds make!
One with his hobby horse still prances!
Whiles some, with flowers, an highway make!
(Reserved, by custom, for that day)
P
And did create her, Summer’s Queen!
And Ruler of their merry May!