honour'd name These are the generous Spaniels that retrive Imperiall Crownes and swallow Kings alive The simpler sort maintain us plump and fat But these advance the Glory of our State The Eyas Faulcon's not so fierce in Game As th' high pitch'd Hagard whom our hands reclaime These are brave dayes and these brave dayes we live This is the trade that Roman Shepheards drive NULL But tell me Swaine what busie eyes attend Thy flocks the while What courses doe they bend PSEUD. Graze where they please if they will feed they may Our Musick twangs upon a higher kay They doe but meerely serve to draw mens eyes From spying where our greater profit lyes They are like Switches in a beggers hand To counterfeit a Calling No we stand On higher termes The habit of a Swaine Seemes holy gives advantage to obtaine Those glorious ends that we pursue so fast They must been chary Swaine that be not chast This russet thred-bare weed that now I weare Can startle Monarchs bow a Princes eare These very Hems be kist and skirts ador'd And every Button shall command a Lord NULL Farewell my Flocks Goe seek another Swain Farewell my Office and my glorious gain Of twenty Marks per annum I 'le goe wash More thriving cattel leave to haberdash In such small pedling wares come jolly Swain I 'le trade with thee and try another strain We 'l fish for Kingdomes and Imperiall powers Come gentle Swaine the Gold of Ophir's ours PSEUD. No more good Shepheard It growes dark and late At th' Popes-head-taverne there 's a posterne gate Will give us way where flowing cups of wine Shall re-confirme thy Brotherhood and mine EGLOGVE V. Vigilius Evangelus VIG WHat strange affrights are these that thus arrest My lab'ring soule and spoile me of my rest Before my meeting eyelids can conclude A long desired league the war 's renew'd I cannot rest sometimes me thinks I heare Loud whoopes of Triumphs sounding in mine eare Sometimes the musick of celestiall numbers Sweetens my thoughts and casts my soule in slumbers And then the discords of infernall cryes And horrid shreekes awake my closing eyes Me thinks my trembling Cot does not allow Such restfull ease as it was wont to doe Pray God my Flocks be safe My dreames foretell Some strange designes pray God that all be well I 'le up for sure the wasted night growes old And if that need require secure my Fold Lord how the heavens be spangled How each spark Contends for greater brightnes to undark The shades of night and in a silent story Declare the greatnesse of their Makers glory But hark am I deceiv'd or does mine eare Perceive a noise of footsteps drawing neare What midnight-wanderer is grown so bold At such a seas'n to ramble near my Fold Sure t is some Pilgrime burthen'd with the grief Of a lost way or else some nightly Thief Or else perchance some Shepheard that doth fly From his affrighted Rest as well as I No t is some Friend Or else my dog had nere Bin silent half so long Hoe who goes there EVANG. Vigilius Is the Swain I sought so nigh Fear not Vigilius it is none but I. VIG Evangelus What businesse has divided Thy steps this way Or bin thy steps misguided EVANG. O my Vigilius I am come to bring A true relation of the strangest thing The sweetest Tidings and the rarest wonder This night brought forth as ever broke in sunder The lips of panting Fame I had no power To keep it undisclos'd another hower VIG What is 't Speak speak Vigilius eares are mad To know the newes Say is it good or bad EVANG. O my Vigilius 't is as good as true True true as heaven it self and good to you 'T is good to wise and simple rich and poore 'T is good to me 't is good to thousands more The greatest good that ever fell to man Since earth had beeing since the world began VIG Speake welcome Shepheard let thy tongue proceed To make thy tydings sweeter by thy speed Breake ope thy lips and let thy tongue diffuse Her welcome errand Shepheard what 's the news EVANG. Thou know'st Vigilius Davids Bethlem now Swarmes with much people and does overflow With tides of strangers that attend the pleasure And soveraigne will of sole-commanding Cesar In this concourse there 's one among the rest A Galilean Maid a Virgin guest Whose radiant beauty if we may relye On Fames report strikes every gazing eye stark blind and keeps th' amaz'd beholder under The stupid tyranny of Love and wonder And what does more embellish so divine So rare a creature she drawes out the line Of princely David longer by her birth And keeps his blood alive upon the earth Nay what compleats both linage and complexion And heapes perfection more upon perfection Mounting her Glory to the upper staire She is as perfect chast as perfect faire So pure a soule inflames her Virgin brest That most conceive she is an Angel drest In flesh and blood at least some Saint reviv'd Some say if their report may passe believ'd She hath no sins at all at most so few That very Scriptures are but barely true Her name is Mary and if every one May owne their right right heire to Davids Throne She 's now at Bethlem where being newly come This very night her pregnant Virgin-womb Without the throwes of childbed or the grone Of the sick chaire has borne brought forth a Son VIG A Virgin beare a Son What busie tongue Has done thine eares and easie faith that wrong Borne without pain And of a Virgins womb Thou art befool'd where heard'st thou this of whom EVANG. Shepheard It is the common voic'd report Of every tongue and sent to Caesars Court I come from Bethlem where the dead of night Is wak'd in every Corner with th' affright Of sudden voices and the hasty feet Of wond'ring people trampling in the street Wind-blazing Tapours hurry to and fro And every Window 's turn'd a Lanthorn too The streets are fill'd Some ramble up and down To know the news and some to make it known Here one man trudges There another tramples Some whoop for joy and some by their Examples Some softly whisper Others stand and muse Some bawl aloud no need to aske the news One while the multitude is fallen at strife Some say she is a Virgin some a wife Some neither Others that best know aver She is espoused to a Carpenter Who finding her too great before her Day Brought her to Bethlem secretly to lay The Charge upon the Town and steal away VIG All this may be and yet no Virgin Swain Can Virgins bear Or births be freed from pain EVANG. Know faithlesse Shepheard then that there appear'd An Angel to me from whose lips I heard The news I tell thee Swain he did unfold Not onely this but what remains untold Nor was 't to me alone the news was brought For then my slow beleef might well have thought Mine ears had bin abus'd
The thing was told To many Shepheards more that dare be bold To call it Truth to Shepheards that were by That heard and saw and shook as well as I. His face was like the visage of a Childe Round smooth and plump and oftentimes it smil'd It glow'd like fier and his rowling eyes Cast flames like Lightning darted from the skyes His haire was long and curl'd and did infold Like knots of wire compos'd of burnisht Gold His body was uncloath'd His skin did show More white then Iv'ry or the new-faln snow Whose perfect whitenesse made a circling light That where it stood it silverd o're the night And as he spake his wings would now and then Spread as he meant to flye then close agen This news he brought 'T was neither Fame nor I That forg'd it Swain Good Angels cannot lye Canst thou beleeve it If thy faith be strong My greater Tidings shall enlarge my tongue VIG I doe Evangelus though for a season My faith was tyding on the streames of reason Yet now the gale of thy report shall drive Her sailes another course my thoughts shall strive Against that streame and what I cannot understand with my heart I will beleeve and wonder But tell me Swaine what happinesse accrews From this Or else relate thy better news EVANG. Then know Vigilius whilst the Angell spake My spirits trembled and my loines did ake Horror and heart-amazing feares possest The fainting powers of my troubled brest And struck my frighted soule into a swound That I lay senselesse prostrate on the ground With that he stretcht his life-restoring arme He rais'd me up and bid me feare no harme Feare not said he I come not to affright Thy gaster'd soule with terrours of the night My errand Shepheard is not to abuse Thine eyes with horrid shapes I bring thee news Tidings of joy and everlasting peace Stand up and let thy faithlesse trembling cease Collect thy scatter'd senses Swaine and heare The happiest newes that ever beg'd an eare Such news whereat th' harmonious quire of heaven Archangels Angels and the other seven Of those Celestiall Hierarchies the troop Of glorious Saints and soules of Prophets stoop Their joyfull eares and being fully freight With joyes sing forth Hosanna's to the height This night a Virgin hath brought forth a Son A perfect God though clad in flesh and bone Like mortall man th' eternall Prince of Rest And Peace in whom all nations shall be blest This night a Virgin hath brought forth a Child A perfect Man but pure and undefil'd With guilt of sin like you in shape and fashion And for your sakes as subject to your passion A perfect God whose selfe-subsisting nature Required not the help of a Creator A perfect man conceived by the power Of th' holy Ghost and borne this very hower A perfect God beyond the comprehending Of man and infinite without an ending A perfect man objected to the eye And touch of Flesh and Blood and borne to dye Like God eternall yet his life a span Like yours a perfect God a perfect man To you a Son is given the heire of glory Whose Kingdome 's endlesse and untransitory To you a child is borne that shall succeed That princely David and of Davids seed A Son is given whose name redeem'd the earth A world of daies before his mothers birth A Child is borne whose last expiring breath Shall give new dayes and dying conquer death A Son a Child compos'd of Earth and Heaven To you a Child is borne a Son is given We blessed Angels have no need at all Of such a Saviour for we cannnot fall The damned spirits of th' Infernall Throne Receive no profit by this Childe this Son To you the glory of so great a gain Belongs To you these tidings appertain To you thrice happy sons of men we bring This welcome errand from th' eternall King Of endlesse mercy the great Lord of Heaven To you this Childe is born this Son is given Goe Shepheards goe to Bethlem and your eyes Shall see the Babe The blessed Infant lyes In a poor Stable swadled in a Manger Goe Swains and entertain this heavenly Stranger Upon your bended knees See yonder Starre Shall be your Pilot where these wonders are And as he spake that word not fully ended Ten thousand Angels in a Troop descended But here my tongue must fail not having might To tell the glory of that glorious sight Nay had I power thine ears would prove as weak To apprehend as my poor tongue 's to speak They joyn'd their warbling notes and in a height Beyond the curious frailty of conceit Their voices sweetned our delighted fears And with this Caroll blest our ravisht ears GLory to God on high and jolly mirth Twixt man and man and peace on earth This night a childe is born This night a Son is given This Son this Childe Hath reconcil'd Poor man that was forlorne And th' angry God of heaven Hosanna sing Hosanna Now now that joyfull Day That blessed howre is come That was foretold In dayes of old Wherein all nations may Blesse blesse the Virgins wombe Hosanna sing Hosanna Let heaven triumph above Let earth rejoyce below Let heaven and earth Be fill'd with mirth For peace and lasting love Atones your God and you Hosanna sing Hosanna With that their Air-dividing plumes they spred And with Hosanna in their mouths they fled But Shepheard ah how far does my report Ah how extreamly my poor words come short To blaze such glory How have I transgrest T' expresse such Raptures not to be exprest VIG O Swain how could I lose my self to hear Thy blest discourse O how my greedy ear Clings to thy cordiall lips whose soveraign breath Brings Antidotes against the fangs of death How happy are these times How blest are wee Above all ages that are born to see This joyfull day whose glory was deny'd To Kings and holy Prophets that rely'd Upon the self-same hopes How more then they Are we poor Shepheards blest to see this day EVANG. O Shepheard had our Princely David seen This happy how'r how had his spirit been Inflam'd with Joy and Zeal What heavenly skill Had passion lent to his diviner Quill What Odes what Lyrick Raptures had inspir'd His ravisht soul that was already fir'd With hopes alone that these rare things should bee In after days which now his eyes should see VIG No question but an infinite delight Had easily sprung from so divine a sight It had bin Joy sufficient that a Sonne Was born to sit upon his Princely Throne O but that Son to be a Saviour too Able to conquer death and overthrow The very Gates of Hell and by his breath To drag his soul from the deep Jaile of death Had bin a Joy too high to be exprest By tongues or trusted to a common brest But hold whilst we endevour to make known Anothers Joy we o're neglect our own The day is broke The Eastern Lamps begin To fail and draw
the bright eye of day That in twelve measur'd howers does survay The moity of this earth did ne'er behold More glorious Pastures Nay I dare be bold With awefull reverence to our great God Pan To say that heaven could not devise on man A Good we had not nor augment our store If earth makes happy with one blessing more Our flocks were faire and fruitfull and stood sound Our grounds enricht them they enricht the ground The Alpine mountaines could not boast nor show So pure a whitenesse white surpassing snow Our ub'rous Ewes were evermore supply'd With twins attending upon either side Whose milk-abounding bags did overflow They fed our Lambs and fill'd our dayry too In those past daies our Shepheards knew not what Red-water meant that common language Rott Was neither fear'd nor knowne nor did they feare That heart-confounding name of Massacre There was no putrid Scabbe to exercise The malice of the maggot-blowing flies Whose Prince Belzebub if report be true Breath'd forth his loud Retreat and raging drew His buzzing Army thence and for a time Led them to forage in another Clime And to conclude no Shepheard ere did keep More thriving grounds nor grounds more dainty sheep O my Britannus in those halcyon daies Our jolly Shepheards thirsted after praise Not servil wages They were then ambitious Of Fame whose flocks should be the most auspicious Who by most care should most encrease their fold They hunted after faire report not Gold They were good Shepheards and they lov'd their sheep Watch'd day and night One eye would never sleep Small Cottages would serve their turnes That day Knew no such things as Robes A Shepheards gray Would cloath their backs for being homly drest Their sheep whose fleece they wore would know them best They were good Shepheards seldome durst they feed On Cates or drink the Juice that does proceed From dangerous vines for feare the fumes should steep Their braines too much and they neglect their sheep They were good Shepheards these would every day Twise tell their flocks and then at night convay A secret blessing got by fervent prayer Into their peacefull bosomes unaware They were good Shepheards They would even lay downe Their dearest lives nay more the eternall Crowne Of promis'd Immortality to keep Their lambs from danger and preserve their sheep But now ah now those precious daies are done With us poore Shepheards ah those times are gone Gone like our joyes and never to returne Our joyes are gone and we left here to mourne Let this relation of those times of old Suffice the rest were better be untold BRIT My dearest Gallio had it pleased heaven I wish no further matter had been given To thy discourse it would have pleas'd mine eare And eas'd thy tongue t' have pitch'd thy period here But since our God that can doe nothing ill Hath sent a Change we must submit our will What he hath made the subject of thy story Feare not to tell his ends are his own glory There 's nothing constant here the States of Kings As well as Shepheards are but tickle things Good daies on earth continue but a while We must have vinegar as well as oyle There must be rubs can earth admit all levell The hist'ry of a State is good and evill Speake then my Gallio this attentive eare Can not heare worse then 't is prepar'd to heare GALL Know'st thou Britannus what in daies of old Our great God Pan by Oracle foretold Of that brave City whose proud buildings stood As firme as earth till stain'd with Shepheards blood That there 's a time should come wherein not one Should live to see a stone upon a stone And is not now that prophecy made good Growes not grasse there where these proud buildings stood Nay my Britannus what concernes us more Did not that Oracle in times of yore Threaten to send his Foxes from their Holds Into our Vines and Wolves into our Folds To breake our Fences and to make a way For the wilde Boare to ramble and to prey Where ere he pleas'd O gentle Shepheard thus Thus that prophetick evill 's made good in us Our Hedge is broken and our Pastures yeeld But slender profit All 's turn'd Common-field Our Trenches are fill'd up our crystall Springs Are choak'd with Earth and Trash and baser things Our Shepheards are growne Plough-men all and now Our generous Crooke is turn'd a crooked Plough Shepheards build Halls and carry Princely ports Their woolls are chang'd to silks their Cotts to Courts They must have hospitable Barnes to keep Riot on foot no matter now for Sheep Turne them to graze upon the common Fallowes Whilst the luxurious Shepheard swills and wallowes In his own vomit Having swallowed downe Goblets of wine he snorts in beds of Doun Whilst his poore Lambs his poore neglected Lambs Bend fruitless knees before their milkless Dams Nay my Britannus now these pamper'd Swaines Are grown so idle that they think it paines To sheare their fleeces No they must be pickt And rins'd in holy-water they are strict To touch defiled things must be presented Upon the knee as if they had repented Their service and for which they must deserve But what A Dispensation now to sterve BRIT But stay my Gallio let not my attention Too farre exceed my slower apprehension 'T is better manners t' interrupt then heare Things serious with an ill-instructed eare Make me conceive your forain acceptation Of that ambiguous word of Dispensation GALL It is a tearm that forain Shepheards use Too much I was about to say abuse In elder times when Pastors tooke delight To feed their flocks and not their appetite It was a word exprest now faln asleep To that true sense A feeding of the sheep But now 't is alter'd and it does appeare Diffring as much as they from what they were And if your gentle patience will excuse it A word too much shall tell you how they use it In times of yore the pious minded Swaine Finding base Sodomy and Incest raigne In looser brests taught their obedient Sheep T' observe those laws that Goats refus'd to keep Forbidding Twins to couple and the Rams To take a â—arnall knowledge of their Dams To which intent it was their studious care To severall such flocks as might not paire So much those holy Swaines abominated Unnaturall Incest as we finde related That even among their sheep they thought it good To punish such enormous crimes with bloud Not to be us'd for sacrifice nor food But now Britannus times are growne more course Declin'd from good to bad from bad to worse Those rules are broke by these licentious times Lawes are esteem'd no lawes and crimes no crimes 'T is true our Rascall-sheep whose fly-blown skin Hath lost her fleece and brings no profit in To such the law continues firm and strict On such the hand of justice does inflict The height of law But those whose fleecy loines Beare thriving burdens there th' Edict injoines An easie
penance sisters with their brothers And budding Rams may tup with their own mothers O! where the sacred bell of profit rings Murthers are merits Rapes are veniall things Such may transgresse their pleasures such may doe Their lists be ' incestuous with their Shepheard too Such may have Pardons for elapsed crimes And cheape Indulgences for present times Nay more then that a Twin-producing suitor Shall finde a Dispensation for the future A liberty to sinne for yeares or life our Nation In a more shadow'd tearm tearms Dispensation BRIT Monsters of monsters ô prodigious shame To all mankind and staine to Shepheards name I thought our Shepheards had deserv'd the stile Of bad till now and to speake truth a while Vpon the entrance of thy sad complaint I fear'd thy gamesome wit began to paint In shadow'd Scopticks some that beare the Crook In our blest Island to which end I took Vngranted leave to hinder your relation With a forc'd ignorance of Dispensation To feele thy bent But now my jealous eares Are made unhappy losers by their feares But tell me Gallio for the eye of heaven Is yet unclos'd and hath not quite made even With earth where graze thy flocks and to whose keep Hast thou committed thy absented sheep GALL Nor dare nor can I tell unlesse thine eares Will give me leave to mingle words with teares And teares with blood blood with saddest moanes And moanes with sobs and sobs with deepest groanes O my Britannus 't is not yet two yeares Twise fully told since my abundant teares Began to flow I had I had till than The fairest flock that ever eye of man Beheld with envy ah I had but few My deare Britannus if compar'd with you But 't was a thriving flock for bone and fleece Arcadia no nor all the plaines in Greece Could show the like it was my onely griefe That my report exceeding all beliefe Was counted fictious when I made my boast 'T was thought but my affections voice at most Ah gentle Swaine the poorest Lamb I had Did beare a fleece nay such a fleece as clad A naked brother and the meanest Ewe In all my flock did suckle ne'er so few As Twins besides the surplusage that fed A leash of Orphans in their mothers stead Nay as these eyes can witnesse on a day One of my weaker yeanlings hapt to stray Where being fast upon a crooked Bryer The rest came in and gently did supply her With all the strength they could I could not choose But smile to see while some assaid to loose The prisoners bands they hung as fast as shee But in the end they set my yeanling free O my Britannus when they heard my voyce How my poore Lambs would frisk and even rejoyce To see their Shepheard They would come and stand About me and take Ivy from my hand But ô my God what patience shall I crave To tell the rest what patience shall I have Vpon a night It was a night as dark As was the deed there was no glimm'ring spark That would vouchsafe to shoot his feeble rayes From heaven alas why did no Comet blaze Against such hideous things upon that night Rusht in a rout of Wolves no Jesuite Was sharper bent to kill Into my Fold They rusht they slue they spar'd nor young nor old O! the next morning all my flock lay dead All but some few that being wounded fled My self that held ten thousand lifes not deare To save my dearer flock they wounded there Upon the rescue Ah! they grip'd me sore Yet let me live to wound my soule the more But gentle Shepheard I am lately told Some of my scatter'd sheep have been so bold To seek for refuge in the British Fold Long have I sought like one that knowes not whither To guide his wandring steps I hapned hither O canst thou tell me tidings Canst thou give me At least some hopes of comfort to relieve me BRIT Towards bright Titans evening Court there lyes From hence ten miles not fully measur'd thrice A glorious Citie called by the name Of Troynovant a place of noted fame Throughout the Christian world of great renowne For charitable deeds a place well knowne For good and gratious Government in briefe A place for common Refuge and reliefe To banisht Shepheards and their scatter'd Sheep There our great Pans Vice-gerent now does keep His royall Court whose gracious hand hath store Of soverain Balsames apt for every sore In that brave City there be folds provided For Sheep of diverse Quarters all divided One from the other ready to receive Affrighed flocks and bounteous to releive Their severall wants Hast Gallio hast thee thither And if thou misse thy ends returne thee hither And make Britannus happy to enjoy thee Vntill thy pleased God shall re-imploy thee GALL Thankes gentle Shepheard let that God encrease Thy flocks and give thy soule eternall peace EGLOGVE II. Brito Luscus BRI. GRaze on my Lambs here 's nothing to disquiet Your gentle peace or interupt your diet Why croud ye thus so neer your frighted dams Here 's neither Wolf nor Fox Graze on my Lambs Graze on my Sheep why gaze ye to and fro As if ye fear'd some evill Why gaze ye so What serves your Shepheard for if not to keep Your hearts secure from feares Graze on my sheep Forbeare my Lambs to feare ye know not what And feed your feeding makes your shepheard fat But who comes yonder ' Seemes farre off to be Our creeping Shepheard Luscus and 't is he I thought my Lambs had something in the wind They left to graze and lookt so oft behind They love that Luscus on the selfe same manner As dogs by instinct of nature love the Tanner See here he comes Lord how my lambs divide Their eching paces to the farther side LUSC. The blessed Virgin and S. Francis keep The joviall Shepheard and his jolly sheep BRI. Would not the blessed Virgins blessing doe Without the blessing of S. Francis too LUSC. Why captious Brito Store is held no Sore And two Saints blessings make us blest the more BRI. Is Luscus then my soule two blessings deep Or am I joyn'd in Patent with my sheep But tell me now my Saint-imploring brother One Cypher being added to another What makes the totall summe LUSC. No summe at all BRI. Such were the blessings thy late tongue let fall But 't was thy blinded love and to repend thee That blessed Virgins blessed Son amend thee But say what ayl'st thou Luscus that thy skin Appeares so course and thy pale cheekes so thin Me thinks thine eyes are dim those eyes of thine That lately were so radiant and did shine Like blazing starres which oftentimes foreshow The fall of some great Prince or overthrow Of prosperous States how dull how dead they look As if the style of some new-answer'd Book Had overwatch'd them or thy hollow cheek Had been at buffets with an Ember week LUSC. Plump faces Brito are esteem'd the least Of Shepheards care Good
Shepheards may not feast They must bin sober keep their bodies chast A Shepheards calling is to watch and fast Their lips must tast no Cates their eyes no sleep Such diet Brito Roman Shepheards keep BRI. Or should good Luscus Shepheards love their ease Too well to make a dye of that disease Their faces are not alwayes faithfull signes Of hide-bound Ribs and narrow wasted loynes Shepheards can make Good-friday on their Cheeke When their full hearts at home keep Easter weeke LUSC. Curse on those Shepheards that bin so untrue BRI. That Curse I feare belongs to some of you Your Roman faces can look thin by art Their eye can weep teares strangers to their heart LUS Rash are those censures and those words misguided Where Hearts and Charity are so farre divided But tell me Brito what have we misdone To earne so sharp a censure Whereupon Ground'st thou thy harsh conceit what has our nation Committed worthy of so foul taxation BRI. I 'le tell thee if thy patience will but lend A quiet eare Plain dealing speakes a friend LUS Speake freely then Luscus shall find an eare Thou shalt not speake what Luscus will not heare BRI. When our great Master-shepheard under whom We serve being substituted in his roome Forsooke this vale and tooke his journey on To take possession of his fathers Throne He cal'd his under Shepheards to whose care He lent his flocks those flocks he priz'd more deare Then his owne life to them he recommended The highest trust that ever yet depended On care of man To them he did enlarge His strict Commands to execute that charge With greatest faith and loyalty to keep His Lambs from danger and to feed his Sheep Nay Luscus the more fully to declare His gracious pleasure and his tender care In that behalfe what his desire did move His zeale did quicken on the Bands of love Nay more that word whose accent had the power To ruine Heaven and Earth and in one hower To build a thousand more whose very breath At the first motion could blow life or death He thrice repeated O my Shepheards keep My Flocks O feed my Lambs O fold my Sheep Yet did our bounteous Master not regard His good alone our Pan was not so hard Although our lifes and all that we enjoy Lye prostrate at his pleasure to imploy The busie hands of us poore Shepheard swaines Or to require our unrewarded paines He gives us peace and freedome He sustaines us With full and wholsome diet He maintaines us In needfull raiment keeps us sound in health Gives us content the very height of wealth Besides at every Shearing he allowes A golden Girland to adorne our browes And when our faithfull hands shall give account Of our improv'd endeavours we shall mount Into our Masters joy where being drest In Robes and Crownes we shall enjoy that rest Prepar'd for faithfull Shepheards and there sing Perpetuall Past'rals to our Shepheard-King But they whose slumbring eyes have misattended Their wandring flocks whose hands have not defended Their worried lambs those Shepheards shal make good Their owne defaults with their owne dearest blood LUSC. Brito this night the Moone begins to gain Her wanedlight I feare she threatens rain These busie Gnats I doubt conspire together To bring us tidings of some change of weather BRI. Luscus 't were much for faithlesse Shepheards ease If no worse Gnats might suck their blood then these LUSC. The Sun shines hot the Southern wind blows warme But kindly showers would do these grounds no harme BRI. Lesse harme good Luscus if my thoughts bin true Then this discourse which you so baulk does you We talk of Shepheards our discourse relates Of thriving flocks and you of Showres and Gnats A pleasing subject may command your eare But what you like not you are slow to heare A Roman Swain can heare and yet can choose His eares like Jugglers can play fast and loose For his advantage nay and what appeares More strange he can be deaf to what he heares LUSC. What ayles this peevish Shepheard I attended Till I was tyred and his Tale was ended What would'st thou more with my obtunded eare BRI. That Shepheard which thou seem'st so loth to heare That which observed with attentive heed Will make thy heart-strings crack and thy heart bleed LUSC. Speake Shepheard then whilst I renew my eare A Roman spirit scornes a childish Feare BRI. I Luscus 't is the want of Childish feare That makes thee lend a fear-disdaining eare Thou art a Shepheard else the fouler shame T' usurp the honour of so high a name A Roman Shepheard too that does professe To feed the flock and yet does nothing lesse You take the croppe your flocks alas but gleane And what makes you so fat makes them so leane God knows you feed your selves by what Commission Plough you those Pastures for your owne provision Which our good Shepheard sever'd out to keep And to maintaine his poore deceived sheep Who gave you licence thus bold Swaines to pinch Your Masters gracious bounty and to inch His bounteous favours that can but allow The Headlands but the margents of your Plough To feed so faire a flock Nay more then so They are forbid those slender Headlands too Vntill the slow-pac'd sythe has shorne them downe So late that winter flouds have overflowne Their saplesse swaths and fill'd them so with sand And earthy trash brought downe from th' upper land By th' unresisted current of the flood That 't is but flatter'd with the name of food Nay more then that poore flocks they are forbid To feed at large as heretofore they did They must betether'd now must be bereaven Of the sweet moysture of the dew of heaven Nor must their slender food be simply such As heaven had made it no ' tmust have a touch Of new Invention which our wise God Pan Ne're thought on since devis'd by wiser man It must be mingled with fast growing Flagges Mire-rooted rushes sweet'ned with the Bragges Of pious Thrift nor must the hungry flocks Take what they please it must be serv'd in Locks And Ostry Bottles neither when they would They must be fed nor yet with what they should To day they must be dieted and fast From common food no lesse then death to tast To morrow pamper'd with excesse and nurst With a full hand may ravin till they burst Brave Shepheards Luscus fit to serve such flocks Where you command Lambs need not feare the Fox LUS No wonder Brito that your Censures be So sharpe to us that so much disagree Among your selves you Britain Shepheards are So strangely factious that you would even jarre With your owne shadowes had no substance been Subjected to the venome of your spleen Look first at home and seek to reconcile Your selves that mixe like Vineger with Oyle Then snarle Till heaven shall send you such a season It is your Faction speakes and not your Reason BRI. We have our factions Swaine you speake but true They
glorious Heavens Champion must prevail must be victorious But O what hap what happinesse have wee The last and dregs of Ages thus to see These hopefull Times nay more of sit beneath Beneath our quiet Vines and think of death By leisure when Spring-tides of blood o'rewhelms The interrupted peace of forain Realms Our painfull Oxen plough our peacefull grounds Our quiet streets nere startle at the sounds Of Drums or Trumpets neither Wolf nor Fox Disturb the Folds of our encreasing Flocks Our Kids and sweet-fac'd Lambs can frisk and feed In our fresh Pastures whilst our Oaten Reed Can breath her merry strains and voice can sing Her frolick Past'rals to our Shepheard-King ORTH. 'T is not for our deserts or that our ways Are more upright then theirs of former days We lay the Pelion of our new Transgressions Upon our Fathers Ossa The Confessions Of our offences nay our very pray'rs Are more corrupt then the worst sins of theirs Sure Swain the streams of Mercy run more clear Then they were wont Her smiling eyes appear More gracious now in these our Borean climes Then other Nations or in former times CATH Shepheard Perchance some fifty righteous men Perchance but thirty Peradventure ten Have made our peace Perchance th' Almighties eare Has found a Moses or some Phineas here ORTH. Vengeance that threatned sinfull Israels crime For Davids sake nere stirr'd all Davids time 'T was Davids piety did suspend the blow Of Vengeance Have not we a David too A Prince whose worth what our poor tongues can scatter May rather wrong for want of height then flatter A pious Prince whose very Actions preach Rare Doctrines does what others doe but teach A Prince whom neither flames of youth can fire Nor beauty adde the least to his desire Whose eyes are like the eyes of Turtles chast Can view ten thousand dainties and yet tast But one but in that dainty can digest The perfect Quintessence of all the rest A Prince that briefly to characterize him Wants nothing but a People how to prize him Evill Princes oft draw plagues upon the Times Whereas good Princes salve their peoples Crimes CATH Thou hast not spoken many things but much Such is our People and our Prince is such Such fierce temptations still attend upon The glitt'ring Pompe of the Imperiall Throne I either wonder Princes should be good Or else conceive them not of Flesh and Blood What change of pleasure can his soul command And not obtain being Lord of all the Land What bold what ventrous spirit dare enquire Into the lawfulnesse of his desire What Crown-controlling Nathan dare begin To question Vice or call his sin a sin Who is 't that will not undertake to be His sins Attorney Nay what man is he That will not temporize and fan the fire T' encrease the flames of his unblown desire What place may not be secret or what eye Dare under pain of putting out once pry Into his Closet or what season will Not wait upon his pleasure to fulfill His royall lust what chast Sophronia would Wound her own heart for fear her Soverain should O Shepheard what a Prince have we that can Continue just and yet continue Man No doubt but vengeance would confound these times Were not his Goodnesse far above our crimes Alas Our happy Age that has enjoy'd The best the best of Princes and is cloy'd With prosp'rous Plenty and the sweet increase Of right-hand Blessings in this glut of peace Loaths very Quails and Manna we are strangers To those hard evils to those continuall dangers That cleave to States wherein poor subjects grone Beneath the Vices of th' Imperiall Throne They cannot prize good Princes that nere had The too too dear experience of a bad Who knows not Pharoh Or the plagues that brake Upon the people for hard Pharohs sake ORTH. The Acts of Princes mount with Eagle-wings Few know th' Alliance between God and Kings CATH Look Shepheard look Whose hasty feet are they That trace the Plains so quick They bend this way ORTH. His steps divide apace Pray God his hast Be good Good tidings seldome come so fast CATH I think 't is Nuncius ORTH. Nuncius never uses To come unnews'd CATH I wonder what the news is ORTH. See how he strikes his breast CATH Good Lord how sad His countenance seems ORTH. What Nuncius good or bad CAâ—H Bad Worse The worst of worsts The heaviest news That lips ere broach'd or language can diffuse O earths bright Sun 's eclips'd Ah me is drench'd In blood His flames are quench'd for ever quench'd That light which wondring Shepheards did adore Is out will never shine on Shepheard more Expect no Sunshine from the beams of Suede Sueden the glory of the world is dead Our strength is broke and all our hopes are vain Sueden the glory of the world is slain Our Sun is set and earth now wants a Sun Sueden the glory of the earth is gone Gone gone for ever to eternall night Earth wants her Sueden and the world her light CATH Fond hopes why damp ye not my dull belief To lend a little respite to my grief What ailes my passion to beleeve so soon The Evill it feares Can Phoebus in the noon Of his Meridian glory cease to shine Before his Solstice leaves him to decline The least degree Can brave Adolphus fall And heaven not give us warning none at all There was no Comet blaz'd no apparition Of kindled Meteors lent the least suspition Me thinks the heavens should flame and earths foundation Should shake against so great an alteration ORTH. But is it certain Nuncius NUN I too sure The wounds of death admit no hopes of cure ORTH. God knows his own designs His sacred brest Knows where to propagate his glory best His hidden ways agree not with our eyes His wars must prosper though his Champion dyes We must not question Fate where heaven thinks fit To doe we must be silent and submit We must not look too near we must not prye Perhaps young Joshuah lives though Moses dye Give Suede his honour and enroll his name Among the Worthies in the book of Fame Give him the honour of his double story Begun in Grace and perfected in Glory But let our fond Indulgence be adviz'd In hon'ring Sueden heaven be not dispriz'd We must not languish in a morall thirst T' advance the second Cause and sleight the first We must not droop for want of Suedes Alarm As if that heaven were bound to Suedens Arm That God that hath recall'd our Sueden can Make a new Sueden of a common Man CATH But see The drooping day begins to do'n His mourning weeds The sullen night draws on 'T is time to fold our sheep They little know Or feel those sorrows their poor Shepheards do Shepheards farewell Perchance the morrow light May shine forth better news ORTH. God night NUN God night FINIS EGLOGVE XI Philarchus Philorthus Anarchus PHILAR. SHepheard ah Shepheard what sad days