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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=468623" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Cradle Song, The Arbor of Amorous Devices, 1593-4</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">COME little babe, come silly soul, <br>Thy father's shame, thy mother's grief, <br>Born as I doubt to all our dole, <br>And to thyself unhappy chief: <br> Sing lullaby, and lap it warm, <br> Poor soul that thinks no creature harm. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou little think'st and less dost know <br>The cause of this thy mother's moan; <br>Thou want'st the wit to wail her woe, <br>And I myself am all alone: <br> Why dost thou weep? why dost thou wail? <br> And know'st not yet what thou dost ail. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come, little wretch--ah, silly heart! <br>Mine only joy, what can I more? <br>If there be any wrong thy smart, <br>That may the destinies implore: <br> 'Twas I, I say, against my will, <br> I wail the time, but be thou still. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And dost thou smile? O, thy sweet face! <br>Would God Himself He might thee see!-- <br>No doubt thou wouldst soon purchase grace, <br>I know right well, for thee and me: <br> But come to mother, babe, and play, <br> For father false is fled away. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sweet boy, if it by fortune chance <br>Thy father home again to send, <br>If death do strike me with his lance, <br>Yet mayst thou me to him commend: <br> If any ask thy mother's name, <br> Tell how by love she purchased blame. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then will his gentle heart soon yield: <br>I know him of a noble mind: <br>Although a lion in the field, <br>A lamb in town thou shalt him find: <br> Ask blessing, babe, be not afraid, <br> His sugar'd words hath me betray'd. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then mayst thou joy and be right glad; <br>Although in woe I seem to moan, <br>Thy father is no rascal lad, <br>A noble youth of blood and bone: <br> His glancing looks, if he once smile, <br> Right honest women may beguile. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come, little boy, and rock asleep; <br>Sing lullaby and be thou still; <br>I, that can do naught else but weep, <br>Will sit by thee and wail my fill: <br> God bless my babe, and lullaby <br> From this thy father's quality.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Nicholas+Breton">Nicholas Breton</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=468623" data-title="A Cradle Song, The Arbor of Amorous Devices, 1593-4 de Nicholas Breton" data-description="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: Sing lullaby, and lap it warm, Poor soul that thinks no creature har..."></div> </div> </div>
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