In complete contrast to this conceited and euphuistic style of composition stands a slight snatch of rustic melody, consisting of little but reiteration and refrain.

A BIRD’S SONG OF LOVE.

No. 31.

    Come to me, come, O come! 
    Let me not die, but come! 
                Hyria hysria nazaza
                    Trillirivos.

    Fair is thy face, O fair! 
    Fair thine eyes, O how fair! 
                Hyria hysria nazaza
                    Trillirivos.

    Fair is thy flowing hair! 
    O fair, O fair, how fair! 
                Hyria hysria nazaza
                    Trillirivos.

    Redder than rose art thou,
    Whiter than lily thou! 
                Hyria hysria nazaza
                    Trillirivos.

    Fairer than all, I vow,
    Ever my pride art thou! 
                Hyria hysria nazaza
                    Trillirivos.

The following displays an almost classical intensity of voluptuous passion, and belongs in all probability to a period later than the Carmina Burana.  I have ventured, in translating it, to borrow the structure of a song which occurs in Fletcher’s Rollo (act v. scene 2), the first stanza of which is also found in Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure (act iv. scene 1), and to insert one or two phrases from Fletcher’s version.  Whether the composer of that song had ever met with the Latin lyric to Lydia can scarcely form the subject of critical conjecture.  Yet there is a faint evanescent resemblance between the two poems.

TO LYDIA.

No. 32.

Lydia bright, thou girl more white
Than the milk of morning new,
Or young lilies in the light! 
Matched with thy rose-whiteness, hue
Of red rose or white rose pales,
And the polished ivory fails,
Ivory fails.

Spread, O spread, my girl, thy hair,
Amber-hued and heavenly bright,
As fine gold or golden air! 
Show, O show thy throat so white,
Throat and neck that marble fine
Over thy white breasts incline,
Breasts incline.

Lift, O lift thine eyes that are
Underneath those eyelids dark,
Lustrous as the evening star
’Neath the dark heaven’s purple arc! 
Bare, O bare thy cheeks of rose,
Dyed with Tyrian red that glows,
Red that glows.

Give, O give those lips of love
That the coral boughs eclipse;
Give sweet kisses, dove by dove,
Soft descending on my lips. 
See my soul how forth she flies! 
’Neath each kiss my pierced heart dies,
Pierced heart dies.

Wherefore dost thou draw my life,
Drain my heart’s blood with thy kiss? 
Scarce can I endure the strife
Of this ecstasy of bliss! 
Set, O set my poor heart free,
Bound in icy chains by thee,
Chains by thee.