Biography of Nicholas Breton
Nicholas Brenton gives a new twist to the story of Eve; since she was a part of Adam, "was she any other than himself that deceived himself?"
Between 1575 and his death he published over 30 individual collections of verse, three prose fictions and at least 25 pamphlets and miscellaneous works.
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Nicholas Breton Poems
Aglaia: A Pastoral
Sylvan Muses, can ye sing Of the beauty of the Spring? Have ye seen on earth that sun That a heavenly course hath run?
A Shepherd's Dream
A silly shepherd lately sat Among a flock of sheep; Where musing long on this and that,
An Odd Conceit
Lovely kind, and kindly loving, Such a mind were worth the moving; Truly fair, and fairly true-
Pretty Twinkling Starry Eyes
Pretty twinkling starry eyes! How did Nature first devise Such a sparkling in your sight As to give Love such delight
The worldly prince doth in his sceptre hold A kind of heaven in his authorities; The wealthy miser, in his mass of gold,
Phillida And Coridon
IN the merry month of May, In a morn by break of day, Forth I walk'd by the wood-side When as May was in his pride:
A Sweet Pastoral
Good Muse, rock me asleep With some sweet harmony; The weary eye is not to keep Thy wary company.
A Quarrel With Love
Oh that I could write a story Of love's dealing with affection! How he makes the spirit sorry
On a hill there grows a flower, Fair befall the dainty sweet! By that flower there is a bower Where the heavenly Muses meet.
Say that I should say I love ye, Would you say 'tis but a saying? But if love in prayers move ye, Will ye not be moved with praying?
A Cradle Song, The Arbor Of Amorous Devi...
COME little babe, come silly soul, Thy father's shame, thy mother's grief, Born as I doubt to all our dole, And to thyself unhappy chief:
Another Of The Same (A Report Song In A ...
Say that I should say I love ye, Would you say 'tis but a saying? But if Love in prayers move ye, Will ye not be moved with praying?
Corydon's Supplication To Phyllis
Sweet Phyllis, if a silly swain May sue to thee for grace, See not thy loving shepherd slain With looking on thy face;
The Passionate Shepherd
Who can live in heart so glad As the merry country lad? Who upon a fair green balk May at pleasure sit and walk,
On a hill there grows a flower,
Fair befall the dainty sweet!
By that flower there is a bower
Where the heavenly Muses meet.
In the bower there is a chair,
Fringed all about with gold,
Where doth sit the fairest fair
That did ever eye behold.