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C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Down the Valley

By Robert Greene (1558–1592)

From ‘Never Too Late’

DOWN the valley ’gan he track,

Bag and bottle at his back,

In a surcoat all of gray;

Such wear palmers on the way.

When with scrip and staff they see

Jesus’s grave on Calvary.

A hat of straw, like a swain,

Shelter for the sun and rain,

With a scallop-shell before;

Sandals on his feet he wore;

Legs were bare, arms unclad;

Such attire this Palmer had.

His face fair like Titan’s shine;

Gray and buxom were his eyne,

Whereout dropt pearls of sorrow;

Such sweet tears love doth borrow,

When in outward dews she plains

Heart’s distress that lovers pains;

Ruby lips, cherry cheeks;

Such rare mixture Venus seeks,

When to keep her damsels quiet

Beauty sets them down their diet.

Adon was not thought more fair:

Curlèd locks of amber hair,

Locks where love did sit and twine

Nets to snare the gazer’s eyne.

Such a Palmer ne’er was seen,

’Less Love himself had palmer been.

Yet, for all he was so quaint,

Sorrow did his visage taint:

Midst the riches of his face,

Grief decyphered high disgrace.

Every step strained a tear;

Sudden sighs showed his fear;

And yet his fear by his sight

Ended in a strange delight;

That his passions did approve,

Weeds and sorrow were for love.