of them ashamed is And mustring all his men in Venus vew Denies them quite for seruitors of his And is loue then said Corylas once knowne In Court and his sweet lore professed there I weened sure he was our God alone And only woond in fields and forests here Not so quoth he loue most aboundeth there For all the walls and windows there are writ All full of loue and loue and loue my deare And all their talke and studie is of it Ne any there doth braue or valiant seeme Vnlesse that some gay Mistresse badge he beares Ne any one himselfe doth ought esteeme Vnlesse he swim in loue vp to the eares But they of loue and of his sacred lere As it should be all otherwise deuise Then we poore shepheards are accustomd here And him do sue and serue all otherwise For with lewd speeches and licentious deeds His mightie mysteries they do prophane And vse his ydle name to other needs But as a complement for courting vaine So him they do not serue as they professe But make him serue to them for sordid vses Ah my dread Lord that doest liege hearts possesse Auenge thy selfe on them for their abuses But we poore shepheards whether rightly so Or through our rudenesse into errour led Do make religion how we rashly go To serue that God that is so greatly dred For him the greatest of the Gods we deeme Borne without Syre or couples of one kynd For Venus selfe doth soly couples seeme Both male and female through commixture ioynd So pure and spotlesse Cupid forth she brought And in the gardens of Adonis nurst Where growing he his owne perfection wrought And shortly was of all the Gods the first Then got he bow and shafts of gold and lead In which so fell and puissant he grew That Ioue himselfe his powre began to dread And taking vp to heauen him godded new From thence he shootes his arrowes euery where Into the world at randon as he will On vs fraile men his wretched vassals here Like as himselfe vs pleaseth saue or spill So we him worship so we him adore With humble hearts to heauen vplifted hie That to true loues he may vs euermore Preferre and of their grace vs dignifie Ne is there shepheard ne yet shepheards swaine What euer feeds in forest or in field That dare with euil deed or leasing vaine Blaspheme his powre or termes vnworthie yield Shepheard it seemes that some celestiall rage Of loue quoth Cuddy is breath'd into thy brest That powreth forth these oracles so sage Of that high powre wherewith thou art possest But neuer wist I till this present day Albe of loue I alwayes humbly deemed That he was such an one as thou doest say And so religiously to be esteemed Well may it seeme by this thy deep insight That of that God the Priest thou shouldest bee So well thou wot'st the mysterie of his might As if his godhead thou didst present see Of loues perfection perfectly to speake Or of his nature rightly to define Indeed said Colin passeth reasons reach And needs his priest t' expresse his powre diuine For long before the world he was y'bore And bred aboue in Venus bosome deare For by his powre the world was made of yore And all that therein wondrous doth appeare For how should else things so far from attone And so great enemies as of them bee Be euer drawne together into one And taught in such accordance to agree Through him the cold began to couet heat And water fire the light to mount on hie And th'heauie downe to peize the hungry t'eat And voydnesse to seeke full satietie So being former foes they wexed friends And gan by litle learne to loue each other So being knit they brought forth other kynds Out of the fruitfull wombe of their great mother Then first gan heauen out of darknesse dread For to appeare and brought forth chearfull day Next gan the earth to shew her naked head Out of deep waters which her drownd alway And shortly after euerie liuing wight Crept forth like wormes out of her slimie nature Soone as on them the Suns like giuing light Had powred kindly heat and formall feature Thenceforth they gan each one his like to loue And like himselfe desire for to beget The Lyon chose his mate the Turtle Doue Her deare the Dolphin his owne Dolphinet But man that had the sparke of reasons might More then the rest to rule his passion Chose for his loue the fairest in his sight Like as himselfe was fairest by creation For beautie is the bayt which with delight Doth man allure for to enlarge his kynd Beautie the burning lamp of heauens light Darting her beames into each feeble mynd Against whose powre nor God nor man can fynd Defence ne ward the daunger of the wound But being hurt seeke to be medicynd Of her that first did stir that mortall stownd Then do they cry and call to loue apace With praiers lowd importuning the skie Whence he them heares whē he list shew grace Does graunt them grace that otherwise would die So loue is Lord of all the world by right And rules their creatures by his powrfull saw All being made the vassalls of his might Through secret sence which therto doth thē draw Thus ought all louers of their lord to deeme And with chaste heart to honor him alway But who so else doth otherwise esteeme Are outlawes and his lore do disobay For their desire is base and doth not merit The name of loue but of disloyall lust Ne mongst true louers they shall place inherit But as Exuls out of his court be thrust So hauing said Melissa spake at will Colin thou now full deeply hast divynd Of loue and beautie and with wondrous skill Hast Cupid selfe depainted in his kynd To thee are all true louers greatly bound That doest their cause so mightily defend But most all wemen are thy debtors found That doest their bountie still so much commend That ill said Hobbinol they him requite For hauing loued euer one most deare He is repayd with scorne and foule despite That yrkes each gentle heart which it doth heare Indeed said Lucid I haue often heard Faire Rosalind of diuers fowly blamed For being to that swaine too cruell hard That her bright glorie else hath much defamed But who can tell what cause had that faire Mayd To vse him so that vsed her so well Or who with blame can iustly her vpbrayd For louing not for who can loue compell And sooth to say it is foolhardie thing Rashly to wyten creatures so diuine For demigods they be and first did spring From heauen though graft in frailnesse feminine And well I wote that oft I heard it spoken How one that fairest Helene did reuile Through iudgement of the Gods to been ywroken Lost both his eyes and so remaynd long while Till he recanted had his wicked rimes And made amends to her with treble praise Beware therefore ye groomes I
damaske roses bud Cast from the stalke or like in field to purple flowre VVhich languisheth being shred by culter as it past A trembling chilly cold ran throgh their veines which were VVith eies brimfull of teares to see his fatall howre VVhose blustring sighes at first their sorrow did declare Next murmuring ensude at last they not forbeare Plaine outcries all against the heau's that enuiously Depriv'd vs of a spright so perfect and so rare The Sun his lightsom beames did shrowd and hide his face For griefe whereby the earth feard night eternally The mountaines each where shooke the riuers turn'd their streames And th' aire gan winterlike to rage and fret apace And grisly ghosts by night were seene and fierie gleames Amid the clouds with claps of thunder that did seeme To rent the skies and made both man and beast afeard The birds of ill presage this lucklesse chance foretold By dernfull noise and dogs with howling made man deeme Some mischief was at hand for such they do esteeme As tokens of mishap and so haue done of old Ah that thou hadst but heard his louely Stella plaine Her greeuous losse or seene her heauie mourning cheere While she with woe opprest her sorrowes did vnfold Her haire hung lose neglect about her shoulders twaine And from those two bright starres to him sometime so deere Her heart sent drops of pearle which fell in foyson downe Twixt lilly and the rose She wroong her hands with paine And piteously gan say My true and faithfull pheere Alas and woe is me why should my fortune frowne On me thus frowardly to rob me of my ioy What cruell enuious hand hath taken thee away And with thee my content my comfort and my stay Thou onelie wast the ease of trouble and annoy When they did me assaile in thee my hopes did rest Alas what now is left but grief that night and day Afflicts this wofull life and with continuall rage Torments ten thousand waies my mtserable brest O greedie enuious heau'n what needed thee to haue Enricht with such a Iewell this vnhappie age To take it back againe so soone Alas when shall Mine eies see ought that may content them since thy graue My onely treasure hides the ioyes of my poore hart As herewith thee on earth I liv'd euen so equall Me thinkes it were with thee in heau'n I did abide And as our troubles all we here on earth did part So reason would that there of thy most happie state I had my share Alas if thou my trustie guide Were wont to be how canst thou leaue me thus alone In darknesse and astray weake wearie desolate Plung d in a world of woe refusing for to take Me with thee to the place of rest where thou art gone This said she held her peace for sorrow tide her toong And insteed of more words seemd that her eies a lake Of teares had bene they flow'd so plenteously therefro And with her sobs and sighs th' aire round about her roong If Venus when she waild her deare Adonis slaine Ought moov'd in thy fiers hart compassion of her woe His noble sisters plaints her sighes and teares emong Would sure haue made thee milde and inly rue her paine Aurora halfe so faire her selfe did neuer show When from old Tithons bed shee weeping did arise The blinded archer-boy like larke in showre of raine Sat bathing of his wings and glad the time did spend Vnder those cristall drops which fell from her faire eies And at their brightest beames him proynd in louely wise Yet sorie for her grief which he could not amend The geÌ„tle boy gaÌ„ wipe her eies clear those lights Those lights through which his glory and his conquests shine The Graces tuckt her hair which hung like threds of gold Along her yuorie brest the treasure of delights All things with her to weep it seemed did encline The trees the hills the dales the caues the stones so cold The aire did help them mourne with dark clouds raine and mist Forbearing many a day to cleare it selfe againe Which made them eftsoones feare the daies of Pirrha shold Of creatures spoile the earth their fatall threds vntwist For Phoebus gladsome raies were wished for in vaine And with her quiuering light Latonas daughter faire And Charles-waine eke refus'd to be the shipmans guide On Neptune warre was made by Aeolus and his traine Who letting loose the winds tost and tormented th' aire So that on eu'ry coast men shipwrack did abide Or else were swallowed vp in open sea with waues And such as came to shoare were beaten with despaire The Medwaies siluer streames that wont so still to slide Were troubled now wrothe whose hiddeÌ„ hollow caues Along his banks with fog then shrowded from mans eye Ay Phillip did resownd aie Phillip they did crie His Nimphs were seen no more thogh custom stil it craues With haire spred to the wynd themselues to bath or sport Or with the hooke or net barefooted wantonly The pleasant daintie fish to entangle or deceiue The shepheards left their wonted places of resort Their bagpipes now were still their louing mery layes Were quite forgot and now their flocks meÌ„ might perceiue To wander and to straie all carelesly neglect And in the stead of mirth and pleasure nights and dayes Nought els was to be heard but woes complaints mone But thou O blessed soule doest haply not respect These teares we shead though full of louing pure affect Hauing affixt thine eyes on that most glorious throne Where full of maiestie the high creator reignes In whose bright shining face thy ioyes are all complete Whose loue kindles thy spright where happie alwaies one Thou liu'st in blis that earthly passion neuer staines Where from the purest spring the sacred Nectar sweete Is thy continuall drinke where thou doest gather now Of well emploied life th'inestimable gaines There Venus on thee smiles Apollo giues thee place And Mars in reuerent wise doth to thy vertue bow And decks his fiery sphere to do thee honour most In highest part whereof thy valour for to grace A chaire of gold he setts to thee and there doth tell Thy noble acts arew whereby euen they that boast Themselues of auncient fame as Pirrhus Hanniball Scipio and Caesar with the rest that did excell In martiall prowesse high thy glorie do admire All haile therefore O worthie Phillip immortall The flowre of Sydneyes race the honour of thy name Whose worthie praise to sing my Muses not aspire But sorrowfull and sad these teares to thee let fall Yet wish their verses might so farre and wide thy fame Extend that enuies rage nor time might end the same A pastorall Aeglogue vpon the death of Sir Phillip Sidney Knight c. Lycon Colin Colin well â—its thy sad cheare this sad stownd This wofull stownd wherein all things complaine This great mishap this greeuous losse of owres Hear'st thou the Orown how with hollow sownd He slides away and murmuring doth plaine And
COLIN CLOVTS Come home againe By Ed. Spencer LONDON Printed for VVilliam Ponsonbie 1595. TO THE RIGHT worthy and noble Knight Sir VValter Raleigh Captaine of her Maiesties Guard Lord Wardein of the Stanneries and Lieutenant of the Countie of Cornwall SIR that you may see that I am not alwaies ydle as yee thinke though not greatly well occupied nor altogither vndutifull though not precisely officious I make you present of this simple pastorall vnworthie of your higher conceipt for the meanesse of the stile but agreeing with the truth in circumstance and matter The which I humbly beseech you to accept in part of paiment of the infinite debt in which I acknowledge my selfe bounden vnto you for your singular fauours and sundrie good turnes shewed to me at my late being in England and with your good countenance protect against the malice of euill mouthes which are alwaies wide open to carpe at and misconstrue my simple meaning I pray continually for your happinesse From my house of Kilcolman the 27. of December 1591. Yours euer humbly Ed. Sp. COLIN CLOVTS come home againe THe shepheards boy best knowne by that name That after Tityrus first sung his lay Laies of sweet loue without rebuke or blame Sate as his custome was vpon a day Charming his oaten pipe vnto his peres The shepheard swaines that did about him play Who all the while with greedie listfull eares Did stand astonisht at his curious skill Like hartlesse deare dismayd with thunders sound At last when as he piped had his fill He rested him and sitting then around One of those groomes a iolly groome was he As euer piped on an oaten reed And lou'd this shepheard dearest in degree Hight Hobbinol gan thus to him areed Colin my liefe my life how great a losse Had all the shepheards nation by thy lacke And I poore swaine of many greatest crosse That sith thy Muse first since thy turning backe Was heard to sound as she was wont on hye Hast made vs all so blessed and so blythe Whilest thou wast hence all dead in dole did lie The woods were heard to waile full many a sythe And all their birds with silence to complaine The fields with faded flowers did seem to mourne And all their flocks from feeding to refraine The running waters wept for thy returne And all their fish with languour did lament But now both woods and fields and floods reviue Sith thou art come their cause of meriment That vs late dead hast made againe aliue But were it not too painfull to repeat The passed fortunes which to thee befell In thy late voyage we thee would entreat Now at thy leisure them to vs to tell To whom the shepheard gently answered thus Hobbin thou temptest me to that I couet For of good passed newly to discus By dubble vsurie doth twise renew it And since I saw that Angels blessed eie Her worlds bright sun her heauens fairest light My mind full of my thoughts satietie Doth feed on sweet contentment of that sight Since that same day in nought I take delight Ne feeling haue in any earthly pleasure But in remembrance of that glorious bright My life 's sole blisse my hearts eternall threasure Wake then my pipe my sleepie Muse awake Till I haue told her praises lasting long Hobbin desires thou maist it not forsake Harke then ye iolly shepheards to my song With that they all gan throng about him neare With hungrie eares to heare his harmonie The whiles their flocks deuoyd of dangers feare Did round about them feed at libertie One day quoth he I sat as was my trade Vnder the foote of Mole that mountaine hore Keeping my sheepe amongst the cooly shade Of the greene alders by the Mullaes shore There a straunge shepheard chaunst to find me out Whether allured with my pipes delight Whose pleasing sound yshrilled far about Or thither led by chaunce I know not right VVhom when I asked from what place he came And how he hight himselfe he did ycleepe The shepheard of the Ocean by name And said he came far from the main-sea deepe He sitting me beside in that same shade Prouoked me to plaie some pleasant fit And when he heard the musicke which I made He found himselfe full greatly pleasd at it Yet aemuling my pipe he tooke in hond My pipe before that aemuled of many And plaid theron for well that skill he cond Himselfe as skilfull in that art as any He pip'd I sung and when he sung I piped By chaunge of turnes each making other mery Neither enuying other nor enuied So piped we vntill we both were weary There interrupting him a bonie swaine That Cuddy hight him thus atweene bespake And should it not thy readie course restraine I would request thee Colin for my sake To tell what thou didst sing when he did plaie For well I weene it worth recounting was VVhether it were some hymne or morall laie Or carol made to praise thy loued lasse Nor of my loue nor of my losse quoth he I then did sing as then occasion fell For loue had me forlorne forlorne of me That made me in that desart chose to dwell But of my riuer Bregogs loue I soong VVhich to the shiny Mulla he did beare And yet doth beare and euer will so long As water doth within his bancks appeare Of fellowship said then that bony Boy Record to vs that louely lay againe The staie whereof shall nought these eares annoy VVho all that Colin makes do couet faine Heare then quoth he the tenor of my tale In sort as I it to that shepheard told No leasing new nor Grandams fable stale But auncient truth confirm'd with credence old Old father Mole Mole hight that mountain gray That walls the Northside of Armulla dale He had a daughter fresh as floure of May VVhich gaue that name vnto that pleasant vale Mulla the daughter of old Mole so hight The Nimph which of that water course has charge That springing out of Mole doth run downe right To Butteuant where spreading forth at large It giueth name vnto that auncient Cittie VVhich Kilnemullah cleped is of old VVhose ragged ruines breed great ruth and pittie To trauailers which it from far behold Full faine she lou'd and was belou'd full faine Of her owne brother riuer Bregog hight So hight because of this deceitfull traine VVhich he with Mulla wrought to win delight But her old sire more carefull of her good And meaning her much better to preferre Did thinke to match her with the neighbour flood VVhich Allo hight Broad water called farre And wrought so well with his continuall paine That he that riuer for his daughter wonne The dowre agreed the day assigned plaine The place appointed where it should be doone Nath lesâ—e the Nymph her former liking held For loue will not be drawne but must be ledde And Bregog did so well her fancie weld That her good will he got her first to wedde But for her father sitting still
did beare There did our ship her fruitfull wombe vnlade And put vs all a shore on Cynthias land What land is that thou meanst then Cuddy sayd And is there other then whereon we stand Ah Cuddy then quoth Colin thous a fon That hast not seene least part of natures worke Much more there is vnkend then thou doest kon And much more that does from mens knowledge lurke For that same land much larger is then this And other men and beasts and birds doth feed There fruitfull corne faire trees fresh herbage is And all things else that liuing creatures need Besides most goodly riuers there appeare No whit inferiour to thy Funchins praise Or vnto Allo or to Mulla cleare Nought hast thou foolish boy seene in thy daies But if that land be there quoth he as here And is theyr heauen likewise there all one And if like heauen be heauenly graces there Like as in this same world where we do wone Both heauen and heauenly graces do much more Quoth he abound in that same land then this For there all happie peace and plenteous store Conspire in one to make contented blisse No wayling there nor wretchednesse is heard No bloodie issues nor no leprosies No griesly famine nor no raging sweard No nightly bodrags nor no hue and cries The shepheards there abroad may safely lie On hills and downes withouten dread or daunger No rauenous wolues the good mans hope destroy Nor outlawes fell affray the forest raunger There learned arts do florish in great honor And Poets wits are had in peerlesse price Religion hath lay powre to rest vpon her Aduancing vertue and suppressing vice For end all good all grace there freely growes Had people grace it gratefully to vse For God his gifts there plenteously bestowes But gracelesse men them greatly do abuse But say on further then said Corylas The rest of thine aduentures that betyded Foorth on our voyage we by land did passe Quoth he as that same shepheard still vs guyded Vntill that we to Cynthiaes presence came Whose glorie greater then my simple thought I found much greater then the former fame Such greatnes I cannot compare to ought But if I her like ought on earth might read I would her lyken to a crowne of lillies Vpon a virgin brydes adorned head With Roses light and Goolds and Daffadillies Or like the circlet of a Turtle true In which all colours of the rainbow bee Or like faire Phebes garlond shining new In which all pure perfection one may see But vaine it is to thinke by paragone Of earthly things to iudge of things diuine Her power her mercy and her wisedome none Can deeme bu◠who the Godhead can define Why then do I base shepheard bold and blind Presume the things so sacred to prophane More fit it is t' adore with humble mind The image of the heauens in shape humane With that Alexis broke his tale asunder Saying By wondring at thy Cynthiaes praise Colin thy selfe thou makest vs more to wonder And her vpraising doest thy selfe vpraise But let vs heare what grace she shewed thee And how that shepheard strange thy cause aduanced The shepheard of the Ocean quoth he Vnto that Goddesse grace me first enhanced And to mine oaten pipe enclin'd her eare That she thenceforth therein gan take delight And it desir'd at timely houres to heare All were my notes but rude and roughly dight For not by measure of her owne great mynd And wondrous worth she mott my simple song But ioyd that country shepheard ought could fynd Worth harkening to emongst that learned throng Why said Alexis then what needeth shee That is so great a shepheardesse her selfe And hath so many shepheards in her fee To heare thee sing a simple silly Elfe Or be the shepheards which do serue her laesie That they list not their mery pipes applie Or be their pipes vntunable and craesie That they cannot her honour worthilie Ah nay said Colin neither so nor so For better shepheards be not vnder skie Nor better hable when they list to blow Their pipes aloud her name to glorifie There is good Harpalus now woxen aged In faithfull seruice of faire Cynthia And there is a Corydon though meanly waged Yet hablest wit of most I know this day And there is sad Aleyon bent to mourne Though fit to frame an euerlasting dittie Whose gentle spright for Daphnes death doth tourn Sweet layes of loue to endlesse plaints of pittie Ah pensiue boy pursue that braue conceipt In thy sweet Eglantine of Meriflure Lift vp thy notes vnto their wonted height That may thy Muse and mates to mirth allure There eke is Palin worthie of great praise Albe he enuie at my rustick quill And there is pleasing Alcon could he raise His tunes from laies to matter of more skill And there is old Palemon free from spight Whose carefull pipe may make the hearer rew Yet he himselfe may rewed be more right That sung so long vntill quite hoarse he grew And there is Alabaster throughly taught In all this skill though knowen yet to few Yet were he knowne to Cynthia as he ought His Eliseïs would be redde anew Who liues that can match that heroick song Which he hath of that mightie Princesse made O dreaded Dread do not thy selfe that wrong To let thy fame lie so in hidden shade But call it forth O call him forth to thee To end thy glorie which he hath begun That when he finisht hath as it should be No brauer Poeme can be vnder Sun Nor Po nor Tyburs swans so much renowned Nor all the brood of Greece so highly praised Can match that Muse whē it with bayes is crowned And to the pitch of her perfection raised And there is a new shepheard late vp sprong The which doth all afore him far surpasse Appearing well in that well tuned song Which late he sung vnto a scornfull lasse Yet doth his trembling Muse but lowly flie As daring not too rashly mount on hight And doth her tender plumes as yet but trie In loues soft laies and looser thoughts delight Then rouze thy feathers quickly Daniell And to what course thou please thy selfe aduance But most me seemes thy accent will excell In Tragick plaints and passionate mischance And there that shepheard of the Ocean is That spends his wit in loues consuming smart Full sweetly tempred is that Muse of his That can empierce a Princes mightie hart There also is ah no he is not now But since I said he is he quite is gone Amyntas quite is gone and lies full low Hauing his Amaryllis left to mone Helpe O ye shepheards helpe ye all in this Helpe Amaryllis this her losse to mourne Her losse is yours your losse Amyntas is Amyntas floure of shepheards pride forlorne He whilest he liued was the noblest swaine That euer piped in an oaten quill Both did he other which could pipe maintaine And eke could pipe himselfe with passing skill And there though last not least is Action A
notes annext a phill The Turtle doue with tunes of ruthe Shewd feeling passion of his death Me thought she said I tell thee truthe Was neuer he that drew in breath Vnto his loue more trustie found Than he for whom our griefs abound The swan that was in presence heere Began his funerall dirge to sing Good things quoth he may scarce appeere But passe away with speedie wing This mortall life as death is tride And death giues life and so he di'de The generall sorrow that was made Among the creatures of kinde Fired the Phoenix where she laide Her ashes flying with the winde So as I might with reason see That such a Phoenix nere should bee Haply the cinders driuen about May breede an offspring neere that kinde But hardly a peere to that I doubt It cannot sinke into my minde Than vnder branches ere can bee Of worth and value as the tree The Egle markt with pearcing sight The mournfull habite of the place And parted thence with mounting flight To signifie to Ioue the the case What sorrow nature doth sustaine For Astrophill by enuie slaine And while I followed with mine eie The flight the Egle vpward tooke All things did vanish by and by And disappeared from my looke The trees beasts birds and groue was gone So was the friend that made this mone This spectacle had firmly wrought A deepe compassion in my spright My molting hart issude me thought In streames forth at mine eies aright And here my pen is forst to shrinke My teares discollors so mine inke An Epitaph vpon the right Honourable sir Phillip Sidney knight Lord gouernor of Flushing TO praise thy life or waile thy worthie death And want thy wit thy wit high pure diuine Is far beyond the powre of mortall line Nor any one hath worth that draweth breath Yet rich in zeale though poore in learnings lore And friendly care obscurde in secret brest And loue that enuie in thy life supprest Thy deere life done and death hath doubled more And I that in thy time and liuing state Did onely praise thy vertues in my thought As one that seeld the rising sun hath sought With words and teares now waile thy timelesse fate Drawne was thy race aright from princely line Nor lesse than such by gifts that nature gaue The common mother that all creatures haue Doth vertue shew and princely linage shine A king gaue thee thy name a kingly minde That God thee gaue who found it now too deere For this base world and hath resumde it neere To sit in skies and sort with powres diuine Kent thy birth daies and Oxford held thy youth The heauens made hast staid nor yeers nor time The fruits of age grew ripe in thy first prime Thy will thy words thy words the seales of truth Great gifts and wisedom rare imployd thee thence To treat frō kings with those more great thā kings Such hope men had to lay the highest things On thy wise youth to be transported hence Whence to sharpe wars sweet honor did thee call Thy countries loue religion and thy friends Of worthy men the marks the liues and ends And her defence for whom we labor all There didst thou vanquish shame and tedious age Griefe sorrow sicknes and base fortunes might Thy rising day saw neuer wofull night But past with praise from of this worldly stage Back to the campe by thee that day was brought First thine owne death and after thy long fame Teares to the soldiers the proud Castilians shame Vertue exprest and honor truly taught What hath he lost that such great grace hath woon Yoong yeeres for endles yeeres and hope vnsure Of fortunes gifts for wealth that still shall dure Oh happie race with so great praises run England doth hold thy lims that bred the same Flaunders thy valure where it last was tried The Campe thy sorrow where thy bodie died Thy friends thy want the world thy vertues fame Nations thy wit our mindes lay vp thy loue Letters thy learning thy losse yeeres long to come In worthy harts sorrow hath made thy tombe Thy soule and spright enrich the heauens aboue Thy liberall hart imbalmd in gratefull teares Yoong sighs sweet sighes sage sighes bewaile thy fall Enuie her sting and spite hath left her gall Malice her selfe a mourning garment weares That day their Hanniball died our Scipio fell Scipio Cicero and Petrarch of our time Whose vertues wounded by my worthlesse rime Let Angels speake and heauen thy praises tell Another of the same SIlence augmenteth grief writing encreaseth rage Stald are my thoughts which lou'd lost the wonder of our age Yet quickned now with fire though dead with frost ere now Enrag'de I write I know not what dead quick I know not how Hard harted mindes relent and rigors teares abound And enuie strangely rues his end in whom no fault she found Knowledge her light hath lost valor hath slaine her knight Sidney is dead dead is my friend dead is the worlds delight Place pensiue wailes his fall whose presence was her pride Time crieth out my ebbe is come his life was my spring tide Fame mournes in that she lost the ground of her reports Ech liuing wight laments his lacke and all in sundry sorts He was wo worth that word to ech well thinking minde A spotlesse friend a matchles man whose vertue euer shinde Declaring in his thoughts his life and that he writ Highest conceits longest foresights and deepest works of wit He onely like himselfe was second vnto none Whose deth though life we rue wrong al in vain do mone Their losse not him waile they that fill the world with cries Death slue not him but he made death his ladder to the skies Now sinke of sorrow I who liue the more the wrong Who wishing death whom deth denies whose thred is al to lōg Who tied to wretched life who lookes for no reliefe Must spend my euer dying daies in neuer ending griefe Harts ease and onely I like parables run on Whose equall length keep equall bredth and neuer meet in one Yet for not wronging him my thoughts my sorrowes cell Shall not run out though leake they will for liking him so well Farewell to you my hopes my wonted waking dreames Farewell sometimes enioyed ioy eclipsed are thy beames Farewell selfe pleasing thoughts which quietnes brings foorth And farewel friendships sacred league vniting minds of woorth And farewell mery hart the gift of guiltlesse mindes And all sports which for liues restore varietie assignes Let all that sweete is voyd in me no mirth may dwell Phillip the cause of all this woe my liues content farewell Now rime the sonne of rage which art no kin to skill And endles griefe which deads my life yet knowes not how to kill Go seekes that haples tombe which if ye hap to finde Salute the stones that keep the lims that held so good a minde FINIS LONDON Printed by T. C. for William Ponsonbie 1595.