her smocke she drew the shepheard nie But then the shepheard pyp'd a good That all his sheepe for sooke their foode to heare his melodie Thy sheepe quoth she cannot be leane That haue a iolly shepheards swayne the which can pipe so well Yea but sayth he their shepheard may If pyping thus he pine away in loue of Dowsabell Of loue fond boy take thou no keepe Quoth she looke well vnto thy sheepe lest they should hap to stray Quoth he so had I done full well Had I not seene fayre Dowsabell come forth to gather Maye VVith that she gan to vaile her head Her cheekes were like the Roses red but not a word she sayd VVith that the shepheard gan to frowne He threw his pretie pypes adowne and on the ground him layd Sayth she I may not stay till night And leaue my summer hall vndight and all for long of thee My Coate sayth he nor yet my foulde Shall neither sheepe nor shepheard hould except thou fauour me Sayth she yet leuer I were dead Then I should lose my maydenhead and all for loue of men Sayth he yet are you too vnkind If in your heart you cannot finde to loue vs now and then And I to thee will be as kinde As Colin was to Rosalinde of curtesie the flower Then will I be as true quoth she As euer mayden yet might be vnto her Paramour VVith that she bent her snow-white knee Downe by the shepheard kneeled shee and him she sweetely kist VVith that the shepheard whoop'd for ioy Quoth he ther's neuer shepheards boy that euer was so blist Gorbo Now by my sheep-hooke here's a tale alone Learne me the same and I will giue thee hier This were as good as curds for our Ione When at a night we sitten by the fire Motto Why gentle hodge I will not sticke for that when we two meeten here another day But see whilst we haue set vs downe to chat yon tikes of mine begin to steale away And if thou wilt but come vnto our greene on Lammas day when as we haue our feast Thou shalt sit next vnto our summer Queene and thou shalt be the onely welcome guest THE NINTH EGLOG. VVhen cole-blacke night with sable vaile eclipsd the gladsome light Rowland in darkesome shade alone bemoanes his wofull plight WHat time the wetherbeaten flockes forsooke the fields to shrowd them in the folde The groues dispoyl'd of their fayre summer lockes the leaueles branches nipt with frostie colde The drouping trees their gaynesse all agone In mossie mantles doe expresse their moane When Phoebus from his Lemmans louely bower throughout the sphere had ierckt his angry Iades His Carre now pass'd the heauens hie welked Tower gan dragge adowne the occidentall slades In silent shade of desart all alone Thus to the night Rowland bewrayes his moane Oh blessed starres which lend the darknes light the glorious paynting of that circled throane You eyes of heauen you lanthornes of the night to you bright starres to you I make my moane Or end my dayes or ease me of my griefe The earth is frayle and yeelds me no reliefe And thou fayre Phebe cleerer to my sight then Tytan is when brightest he hath shone Why shouldst thou now shut vp thy blessed light and sdayne to looke on thy Endymion Perhaps the heauens me thus despight haue done Because I durst compare thee with their sunne If drery sighes the tempests of my brest or streames of teares from floods of weeping eyes If downe-cast lookes with darksome cloudes opprest or words which with sad accents fall and rise If these nor her nor you to pittie moue There's neither helpe in you nor hope in loue Oh fayr'st that liues yet most vnkindest mayd ô whilome thou the ioy of all my flocke Why haue thine eyes these eyes of mine betrayd Vnto thy hart more hard then flintie rocke And lastly thus depriu'd me of their sight From whome my loue deriues both life and light Those dapper ditties pend vnto her prayse and those sweete straynes of tunefull pastorall She scorneth as the Lourdayns clownish layes and recketh as the rustick madrigall Her lippes prophane Ideas sacred name And sdayne to read the annals of her fame Those gorgeous garlands and those goodly flowers wherewith I crown'd her tresses in the prime She most abhors and shuns those pleasant bowers made to disport her in the summer time She hates the sports and pastimes I inuent And as the toade flies all my meriment With holy verses heryed I her gloue and dew'd her cheekes with fountaines of my teares And carold her full many a lay of loue twisting sweete Roses in her golden hayres Her wandring sheepe full safely haue I kept And watch'd her flocke full oft when she hath slept Oenon neuer vpon Ids hill so oft hath cald on Alexanders name As hath poore Rowland with an Angels quill erected trophies of Ideas fame Yet that false shepheard Oenon fled from thee I follow her that euer flies from me Ther's not a groue that wonders not my woe there's not a riuer weepes not at my tale I heare the ecchoes wandring too and froe resound my griefe in euery hill and dale The beasts in field with many a wosull groane The birds in ayre help to expresse my moane Where been those lines the heraulds of my heart my plaints my tears my vowes my sighes my prayers ô what auayleth fayth or what my Artes ô loue ô hope quite turn'd into despayres She stops her eares as Adder to the charmes And lets me lye and languish in my harmes All is agone such is my endles griefe And my mishaps amended naught with moane I see the heauens will yeeld me no reliefe what helpeth care when cure is past and gone And teares I see doe me auayle no good But as great showres increase the rising flood With folded armes thus hanging downe his head he gaue a groane as though his heart had broke Then looking pale and wan as he were dead he fetch'd a sigh but neuer a word he spoke For now his heart wax'd cold as any stone Was neuer man aliue so woe begone With that fayre Cinthya stoups her glittering vayle and diues adowne into the Ocean flood The easterne brow which erst was wan and pale now in the dawning blusheth red as blood The whistling Larke ymounted on her wings To the gray morrow her good morrow sings When this poore shepheard Rowland of the Rocke whose faynting legges his body scarse vpheld Each shepheard now returning to his flocke alone poore Rowland fled the pleasant field And in his Coate got to a vechie bed Was neuer man aliue so hard bested Imprinted at London for Thomas vvoodcock dwelling in Pauls Churchyarde at the signe of the black Beare 1593.
starry Crowne as Ariadne beares Make her a goodly Chapilet of azur'd Colombine And wreath about her Coronet with sweetest Eglentine Bedeck our Beta all with Lillies And the dayntie Daffadillies VVith Roses damask white and red and fairest flower delice VVith Cowslips of Jerusalem and cloues of Paradice O thou fayre torch of heauen the dayes most deerest light And thou bright-shyning Cinthya the glory of the night You starres the eyes of heauen And thou the glyding leuen And thou ô gorgeous Iris with all strange Colours dyed VVhen she streams foorth her rayes then dasht is all your pride See how the day stands still admiring of her face And time loe stretcheth foorth her armes thy Beta to imbrace The Syrens sing sweete layes The Trytons sound her prayse Goe passe on Thames and hie thee fast vnto the Ocean sea And let thy billowes there proclaime thy Betas holy-day And water thou the blessed roote of that greene Oliue tree VVith whose sweete shadow al thy bancks with peace preserued Lawrell for Poets and Conquerours be And mirtle for Loues Paramours That fame may be thy fruit the boughes preseru'd by peace And let the mournfist Cipres die now stormes tempests cease VVee'l straw the shore with pearle where Beta walks alone And we wil paue her princely Bower with richest Indian stone Perfume the ayre and make it sweete For such a Goddesse it is meete For if her eyes for purity contend with Tytans light No maruaile then although they so doe dazell humaine sight Sound out your trumpets then from Londons stately towres To beat the stormie windes a back calme the raging showres Set too the Cornet and the flute The Orpharyon and the Lute And tune the Taber and the pipe to the sweet violons And moue the thunder in the ayre with lowdest Clarions Beta long may thine Altars smoke with yeerely sacrifice And long thy sacred Temples may their Saboths solemnize Thy shepheards watch by day and night Thy Mayds attend the holy light And thy large empyre stretch her armes from east vnto the west And thou vnder thy feet mayst tread that soule seuen-headed beast Perken Thanks gentle Rowland for my Roundelay And bless'd be Beta burthen of thy song The shepheards Goddesse may she florish long ô happie she Her yeares and dayes thrice doubled may they bee Triumphing Albion clap thy hands for ioy And pray the heauens may shield her from anoy so will I pray Rowland So doe ānd when my milk-white eawes haue yeande Beta shall haue the firstling of the foulde I le burnish all his hornes with finest gould and paynt his fleece with purple grayne Perkin Beleeue me as I am true shepheards swayne Then for thy loue all other I forsake And vnto thee my selfe I will betake with fayth vnfayn'd Ipse ego thura dabo fumosis candidus aris Ipse feram ante tuos munera vota pedes THE FOVRTH EGLOG. Wynken be wayleth Elphinslosse the God of Poesie with Rowlands rime ecleepd the tears of the greene Hawthorne tree Gorbo WEll met good wynken whither doest thou wend How hast thou far'd sweet shepherd many a yeer May vvynken thus his daies in darkenes spend Who I haue knowne for piping had no peere Where been those fayre flocks thou wert wont to guide What been they dead or hap'd on some mischance Or mischiefe hath their master else betide Or Lordly Loue hath cast thee in a trance What man lets still be merie whilst we may And take a truce with sorrow for a time And let vs passe this wearie winters day In reading Riddles or in making rime VVynken Ah woe's me Gorbo mirth is farre away Mirth may not soiourne with black malcontent The lowring aspect of this dismall day The winter of my sorrow doth augment My song is now a swanne-like dying song And my conceipts the deepe conceipts of death My heart becom'n a very hell of wrong My breast the irksome prison of my breath I loth my life I loth the dearest light Com'n is my night when once appeeres the day The blessed sunne seemes odious in my sight No song may like me but the shreech-owles lay Gorbo What mayst thou be that old vvynkin de word Whose thred-bare wits o'rworne with melancholly Once so delightsome at the shepheards boord But now forlorne with thy selues self-wild folly I think thou dot'st in thy gray-bearded age Or brusd with sinne for thy youths sin art sory And vow'st for thy a solemne pilgrimage To holy Hayles or Patricks Purgatory Come sit we downe vnder this Hawthorne tree The morrowes light shall lend vs daie enough And tell a tale of Gawen or Sir Guy Of Robin Hood or of good Clema Clough Or else some Romant vnto vs areed Which good olde Godfrey taught thee in thy youth Of noble Lords and Ladies gentle deede Or of thy loue or of thy lasses truth VVinken Gorbo my Comfort is accloyd with care A new mishap my wonted ioyes hath crost Then meruaile not although my musicke iarre When she the Author of her mirth hath lost Elphin is dead and in his graue is laid Our liues delight whilst louely Elphin liued What cruell fate hath so the time berraid The widow world of all her ioyes depriued O cursed death Liues fearsull enemie Times poysned sickle Tyrants reuenging pride Thou blood-sucker Thou childe of infamie Deuouring Tiger slaughtering homicide Ill hast thou done and ill may thee betide Naught hast thou got the earth hath wonne the most Nature is payd the interest of her due Pan hath receau'd what him so dearly cost O heauens his vertues doe belong to you A heauenly clowded in a humaine shape Rare substance in so rough a barcke Iclad Of Pastorall the liuely springing sappe Though mortall thou thy fame immortall made Spel-charming Prophet sooth-diuining seer ô heauenly musicke of the highest spheare Sweet sounding trump soule-rauishing desire Thou stealer of mans heart inchanter of the eare God of Inuention Ioues deere Mercury Ioy of our Lawrell pride of all our ioy The essence of all Poets diuinitie Spirit of Orpheus Pallas louely boy But all my words shalbe dissolu'd to teares And my tears fountaines shall to riuers grow These Riuers to the floods of my dispaires And these shall make an Ocean of my woe His rare desarts shall kindle my desire With burning zeale the brands of mine vnrest My sighes in adding sulphure to this fire Shall frame another AEtna in my breast Planets reserue your playnts till dismall day The ruthles rockes but newly haue begonne And when in drops they be dissolu'd away Let heauens begin to weepe when earth hath done Then tune thy pipe and I will sing alaye Vpon his death by Rowland of the rocke Sitting with me this other stormy day In you sayre field attending on our flock Gorbo This shall content me VVynken wondrous well And in this mistie wether keepe vs waking To heare ofhim who whylome did excell In such a song of learned Rowlands making Melpomine put
IDEA THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND Fashioned in nine Eglogs ROWLANDS SACRIFICE to the nine Muses Effugiunt auidos Carmina sola roges Imprinted at London for Thomas Woodcocke dwelling in Pauls Churchyarde at the signe of the black Beare 1593. TO THE NOBLE AND VALEROVS GENTLEMAN MASTER ROBERT DUDLEY ENRICHED WITH ALL VERTVES OF THE MINDE AND WORTHY OF ALL HONORABLE DESERT Your most affectionate and deuoted Michael Drayton THE FIRST EGLOG. VVhen as the ioyfull spring brings in the Summers sweete reliefe Poore Rowland malcontent be wayles the winter of his griefe NOw Phoebus from the equinoctiall Zone Had task'd his teame vnto the higher spheare And from the brightnes of his glorious throne Sends forth his Beames to light the lower ayre The cheerfull welkin comen this long look'd hower Distils adowne full many a siluer shower Fayre Philomel night-musicke of the spring Sweetly recordes her tunefull harmony And with deepe sobbes and dolefull sorrowing Before fayre Cinthya actes her Tragedy The Throstle cock by breaking of the day Chants to his sweete full many a louely lay The crawling snake against the morning sunne Now streaks him in his rayn-bow coloured cote The darkesome shades as loathsome he doth shunne Inchanted with the Birds sweete siluan note The Buck forsakes the launds where he hath fed And scornes the hunt should view his veluet head Through all the partes dispersed is the blood The lustie spring in flower of all her pride Man bird and beast and fish in pleasant flood Reioycing all in this most ioyfull tide Saue Rowland leaning on a Ranpick tree O'r growne with age forlorne with woe was he Oh blessed Pan thou shepheards god sayth he O thou Creator of the starrie light Whose wonderous workes shew thy diuinitie Thou wise inuentor of the day and night Refreshing nature with the louely spring Quite blemisht erst with stormy winters sting O thou strong builder of the firmament Who placedst Phoebus in his fierie Carre And by thy mighty Godhead didst inuent The planets mansions that they should not iarre Ordeyning Phebe mistresse of the night From Tytans flame to steale her forked light Euen from the cleerest christall shining throne Vnder whose feete the heauens are low abased Commaunding in thy maiestie alone Whereas the fiery Cherubines are placed Receiue my vowes as incense vnto thee My tribute due to thy eternitie O shepheards soueraigne yea receiue in gree The gushing teares from neuer-resting eyes And let those prayers vvhich I shall make to thee Be in thy sight perfumed sacrifice Let smokie sighes be pledges of contrition For follies past to make my soules submission Submission makes amends for all my misse Contrition a refined life begins Then sacred sighes what thing more precious is And prayers be oblations for my sinnes Repentant teares from heauen-beholding eyes Ascend the ayre and penetrate the skies My sorowes waxe my ioyes are in the wayning My hope decayes and my despayre is springing My loue hath losse and my disgrace hath gayning Wrong rules desert with teares her hands sits wringing Sorrow despayre disgrace and wrong doe thwart My Ioy my loue my hope and my desert Deuouring time shall swallow vp my sorrowes And strong beliefe shall torture black despaire Death shall orewhelme disgrace in deepest furrowes And Iustice laie my wrongs vpon the Beere Thus Iustice death beleefe and time ere long Shall end my woes despayre disgrace and wrong Yet time shall be expir'd and lose his date And full assurance cancell strongest trust Eternitie shall trample on deathes pate And Iustice shall surcease when all be iust Thus time beleefe death Iustice shall surcease By date assurance eternity and peace Thus breathing from the Center of his soule The tragick accents of his extasie His sun-set eyes gan here and there to roule Like one surprisde with sodaine lunacie And being rouzde out of melancholly Flye whirle-winde thoughts vnto the heauens quoth he Now in the Ocean Tytan quencht his flame And summond Cinthya to set vp her light The heauens with their glorious starry frame Preparde to crowne the sable-vayled night When Rowland from this time consumed stock With stone-colde hart now stalketh towards his flock Quid queror toto facio conuicia coelo Di quoque habent oculos di quoque pectus habent THE SECOND EGLOG. Wynken of mans frayle wayning age declares the simple truth And doth by Rowlands harmes reprooue Mottos vnbrideled youth Motto MIght my youths mirth delight thy aged yeeres My gentle shepheard father of vs all Wherewith I why lome Ioy'd my louely feeres Chanting sweete straines of heauenly pastorall Now would I tune my miskins on this Greene And frame my muse those vertues to vnfold Of that sole Phenix Bird my liues sole Queene Whose locks done staine the three times burnisht gold But melancholie grafted in thy Braine My Rimes seeme harsh to thy vnrelisht taste Thy droughthy wits not long refresht with raigne Parched with heat done wither now and waste Wynken Indeed my Boy my wits been all forlorne My flowers decayd with winter-withered frost My clowdy set eclips'd my cherefull morne That Iewell gone wherein I ioyed most My dreadful thoughts been drawen vpon my face In blotted lines with ages iron pen The lothlie morpheu saffroned the place Where beuties damaske daz'd the eies of men A cumber-world yet in the world am left A fruitles plot with brambles ouergrowne Misliued man of my vvorlds ioy bereft Hart-breaking cares the ofspring of my mone Those daintie straines of my vvell tuned reed Which manie a time haue pleasd my vvanton eares Nor svveet nor pleasing thoughts in me done breed But tell the follies of my vvandring yeares Those poysned pils been biding at my hart Those loathsome drugs of my youths vanitie Svveete seem'd they once ful bitter novv and tart Ay me consuming corosiues they be Motto Euen so I vveene for thy olde ages feuer Deemes svveetest potions bitter as the gall And thy colde Pallat hauing lost her sauour Receiues no comfort in a cordiall VVynken As thou art novv vvas I a gamesome boy Though staru'd vvith vvintred eld as thou do'st see And vvell I knovv thy svvallovv-vvinged ioy Shalbe forgotten as it is in me When on the Arche of thine eclipsed eies Time hath ingrau'd deepe characters of death And sun-burnt age thy kindlie moisture dries Thy vvearied lungs be niggards of thy breath Thy bravvne-falne armes thy camock-bended backe The time-plovv d furrovves in thy fairest field The Southsaiers of natures vvofull vvrack When blooming age must stoupe to starued eld When Lillie vvhite is of a tavvnie die Thy fragrant crimson turn'd ash-coloured pale Thy skin orecast vvith rough embroderie And cares rude pencell quite disgrac'd thy sale When dovvne-beds heat must thavve thy frozen cold And luke-vvarme brothes recure Phlebotomie And vvhen the bell is readie to be tol'd To call the vvormes to thine Anatomie Remember then my boy vvhat once I said to thee Now am I like the knurrie-bulked Oke Whome wasting eld hath made a toombe of dust Whose
by their legacie When on their death-bed life was them berest And as on earth together they remayne Together so in heauen they both shall raigne Oh thou Pandora through the world renoun'd The glorious light and load starre of our West With all the vertues of the heauens possest With mighty groues of holy Lavvrell cround Erecting learnings long decayed fame Heryed and hallowed be thy sacred name The flood of Helicon forspent and drie Her sourse decayd with foule obliuion The fountaine flovves againe in thee alone VVhere Muses now their thirst may satisfie And old Apollo from Pernassus hill May in this spring refresh his droughty quill The Graces twisting garlands for thy head Thy Iuorie temples deckt with rarest flowers Their rootes refreshed with diuinest showers Thy browes with mirtle all inueloped shepheards erecting trophies to thy praise lauding thy name in songs and heauenly laies Sapphos sweete vaine in thy rare quill is seene Minerua was a figure of thy worth Mnemosine who brought the Muses forth Wonder of Britaine learnings famous Queene Apollo was thy Syer Pallas her selfe thy mother Pandora thou our Phoebus was thy brother Delicious Larke sweete musick of the morrow Cleere bell of Rhetoricke ringing peales of loue Ioy of the Angels sent vs from aboue Enchanting Syren charmer of all sorrow the loftie subiect a heauenly tale Thames fairest Swanne our summers Nightingale Arabian Phenix wonder of thy sexe Louely chaste holy Myracle admired With spirit from the highest heauen inspired Oh thou alone whome fame alone respects Natures chiefe glory learnings richest prize hie Ioues Empresa vertues Paradize Oh glorie of thy nation beauty of thy name Ioy of thy countrey blesser of thy birth Thou blazing Comet Angel of the earth Oh Poets Goddesse sun-beame of their fame vvhome time through many worlds hath sought to thou peerles Paragon of woman kinde find Thy glorious Image gilded with the sunne Thy lockes adorn'd with an immortall crowne Mounted aloft vpon a Chrystal throne When by thy death thy life shalbe begun the blessed Angels tuning to the spheares with Gods sweete musick charme thy sacred eares From Fayrie Ile deuided from the mayne To vtmost Thuly fame transports thy name To Garamant shall thence conuey the same Where taking wing and mounting vp againe from parched banckes on sun-burnt Affricks shore shall flie as farre as erst she came of yore And gentle Zephire from his pleasant bower Whistling sweete musick to the shepheards rime The Ocean billowes duely keeping time Playing vpon Neptunus brazen tower louers of learning shouting out their cries shaking the Center with th'applaudities Whilst that great engine on her axeltree Doth role about the vaultie circled Globe Whilst morning mantleth in her purple Robe Or Tytan poste his sea Queenes bower to see whilst Phoebus crowne adornes the starrie skie Pandoras fame so long shall neuer die When all our siluer swans shall cease to sing And when our groues shall want their Nightingales When hils shall heare no more our shepheards tales Nor ecchoes with our Roundelayes shall ring the little birdes long listning to thy fame shall teach their ofspring to record thy name Ages shall tell such wonders of thy name And thou in death thy due desert shalt haue That thou shalt be immortall in thy graue Thy vertues adding force vnto thy fame so that vertue with thy fames wings shall flie and by thy fame shall vertue neuer die Vpon thy toombe shall spring a Lawrell tree Whose sacred shade shall serue thee for an hearse Vpon whose leaues in golde ingrau'd this verse Dying she liues whose like shall neuer be a spring of Nectar flowing from this tree the fountayne of eternali memorie To adorne the trrumph of eternitie Drawne with the steedes which dragge the golden sunne Thy wagon through the milken way shall runne Millions of Angels still attending thee Millions of Saints shall thy liues prayses sing pend with the quill of an Archangels wing Gorbo Long may Pandora weare the Lawrell crowne The ancient glory of her noble Peers And as the Egle Lord renew her yeeres Long to vpholde the proppe of our renowne long may she be as she hath euer beene the lowly handmaide of the Fayrie Queene Non mihi mille placent non sum desertor Amoris Tu mihi si quafides curaperennis eris THE SEVENTH EGLOG. Borrill an aged shepheard swaine with reasons doth reprooue Batte a foolish want on boy but lately falne in loue Batte BOrill why sit'st thou musing in thy coate like dreaming Merlyn in his drowsie Cell What may it be with learning thou doest doate or art inchanted with some Magick spell Or wilt thou an Hermites life professe And bid thy beades heare like an Ancoresse See how faire Flora decks our fields with flowers and clothes our groues in gaudie summers greene And wanton Uer distils rose-water showers to welcome Ceres haruests hallowed Queene Who layes abroad her louely sun-shine haires Crown'd with great garlands of her golden eares Now shepheards layne their blankets all awaie and in their lackets minsen on the plaines And at the riuers fishen daie by daie now none so frolicke as the shepheards swaines Why liest thou here then in thy loathsome caue As though a man were buried quicke in graue Borrill Batte my coate from tempest standeth free when stately towers been often shakt with wind And wilt thou Batte come and sit with me contented life here shalt thou onely finde Here mai'st thou caroll Hymnes and sacred Psalmes And hery Pan with orizons and almes And scorne the crowde of such as cogge for pence and waste their wealth in sinfull brauerie Whose gaine is losse whose thrift is levvd expence and liuen still in golden slauery Wondring at toyes as foolish worldlings doone Like to the dogge which barked at the moone Here maist thou range the goodly pleasant field and search out simples to procure thy heale What sundry vertues hearbs and flovvres doe yeeld gainst griefe vvhich may thy sheepe or thee assaile Here mayst thou hunt the little harmeles Hare Or else entrap false Raynard in a snare Or if thou vvilt in antique Romants reede of gentle Lords and ladies that of yore In forraine lands atchieu'd their noble deede and been renovvnd from East to Westerne shore Or learne the shepheards nice astrolobie To knovv the Planets moouing in the skie Batte Shepheard these things been all too coy for mee vvhose lustie dayes should still be spent in mirth These mister artes been better fitting thee earth vvhose drouping dayes are dravving tovvards the VVhat thinkest thou my iolly peacocks trayne Shall be acoyd and brooke so foule a stayne These been for such as make them votarie and take them to the mantle and the ring And spenden day and night in dotarie hammering their heads musing on heauenly thing And vvhisper still of sorrovv in their bed And done despise all loue and lustie head Like to the curre vvith anger vvell neere vvoode vvho makes his kennel in the Oxes stall And snarleth
on thy mourning Gaberdine And set thy song vnto the dolefull Base And with thy sable vayle shadow thy face with weeping verse attend his hearse VVhose blessed soule the heauens doe now enshrine Come Nymphs and with your Rebecks ring his knell VVarble forth your wamenting harmony And at his drery fat all obsequie with Cypres bowes maske your fayre Browes And beat your breasts to chyme his burying peale Thy birth-day was to all our ioye the euen And on thy death this dolefull song we sing Sweet Child of Pan and the Castalian spring vnto our endles mone from vs why art thou gone To fill vp that sweete Angels quier in heauen O whylome thou thy lasses dearest loue VVhen with greene Lawrell she hath crowned thee Immortall mirror of all Poesie the Muses treasure the Graces pleasure Reigning with Angels now in heauen aboue Our mirth is now depriu'd of all her glory Our Taburins in dolefull dumps are drownd Our viols want their sweet and pleasing sound our melodie is mar'd and we of ioyes debard Oh wicked world so mutable and transitory O dismall day bereauer of delight O stormy winter sourse of all our sorrow ô most vntimely and eclipsed morrow to rob vs quite of all delight Darkening that starre which euer shone so bright Oh Elphin Elphin Though thou hence be gone In spight of death yet shalt thou liue for aye Thy Poesie is garlanded with Baye and still shall blaze thy lasting prayse VVhose losse poore shepherds euer shall bemone Come Girles and with Carnations decke his graue VVith damaske Roses and the hyacynt Come with sweete VVilliams Marioram and Mynt with precious Balmes with hymnes and psalmes His funerall deserues no lesse at all to haue But see where Elphin sits in fayre Elizia Feeding his flocke on yonder heauenly playne Come and behold yon louely shepheards swayne piping his fill on yonder hill Tasting sweete Nectar and Ambrosia Gorbo Oh how thy plaints sweete friend renew my payne In listning thus to thy lamenting cries That from the tempest of my troubled brayne See how the floods been risen in mine eyes And being now a full tide of our teares It is full time to stop the streame of griefe Lest drowning in the floods of our despaires We want our liues wanting our soules reliefe But now the sunne beginneth to decline And whilest our woes been in repeating here Yon little eluish moping Lamb of mine Is all betangled in yon crawling Brier Optima prima ferè manibus rapiuntur auaris Implentur numer is deteriora suis. THE FIFTH EGLOG. This lustie swayne bis lowly quill to higher notes doth rayse And in Ideas person paynts his louely lasses prayse Motto COme frolick it a while my lustie swayne Let's see if time haue yet reuiu'd in thee Or if there be remayning but a grayne Of the olde stocke of famous poesie Or but one slip yet left of this same sacred tree Or if reseru'd from elds deuouring rage Recordes of vertue Aye memoriall Left to the world as learnings lasting gage Or if the prayse of worthy pastorall May tempt thee now or mooue thee once at all To Fortunes Orphanes Nature hath bequeath'd That mighty Monarchs seldome haue possest From highest Heauen this influence is breath'd A most diuine impression in the breast feast And those whom Fortune pines doth Nature often Ti's not the troupes of paynted Imagerie Nor these worlds Idols our worlds Idiots gazes Our forgers of suppos'd Gentillitie When he his great great Grand-sires glory blases And paints out fictions in base coyned Phrases For honour naught regards nor followeth fame These silken pictures shewed in euery streete Of Idlenes comes euill of pride ensueth shame And blacke obliuion is their winding sheete And all their glory troden vnder feete Though Enuie sute her seuen-times poysned dartes Yet purest golde is seuen times try'd in fier True valeur lodgeth in the lowlest harts Vertue is in the minde not in th'attyre Nor stares at starres nor stoups at filthy myre Rowland I may not sing of such as fall nor clyme Nor chaunt of armes nor of heroique deedes It fitteth not poore shepheards rurall rime Nor is agreeing with my oaten reedes Nor from my quill grosse flatterie proceedes Vnsitting tearmes nor false dissembling smiles Shall in my lines nor in my stile appeare Worlds fawning fraud nor like deceitfull guiles No no my muse none such shall soiourne here Nor any bragges of hope nor signes of base despaire No fatall dreades nor fruitles vaine desires Nor caps nor curtsies to a paynted wall Nor heaping rotten sticks on needles fires Ambitious thoughts to clime nor fearcs to fall A minde voyd of mistrust and free from seruile thral Foule slander thou suspitions Bastard Child Selfe-eating Impe from vipers poysned wombe Foule swelling to ade with lothly spots defil'd Vile Aspis bred within the ruinde tombe Eternall death for euer be thy doombe Still be thou shrouded in blacke pitchie night Luld with the horror of night-rauens song Let foggie mistes clowd and eclipse thy light Thy wooluish teeth chew out thy venomd tongue With Snakes and adders be thy body stong Motto Nor these nor these may like thy lowlie quill As of too hie or of too base a straine Vnfitting thee and sdeyned ofthy skill Nor yet according with a shepheards vayne Nor no such subiect may beseeme a swayne Then tune thy reede vnto Ideas prayse And teach the woods to wonder at her name Thy lowlie notes here mayst thou learne to rayse And make the ecchoes blazen out her name The lasting trumpe of Phebes lasting fame Thy Temples then shall with greene bayes be dight Thy Egle-soring muse vpon her wing With her fayre siluer wings shall take her flight To that hie welked tower where Angels sing From thence to fetch the tutch of her sweete string Rowland Oh hie inthronized Ioue in thy Olympicke raigne Oh battel-waging Marte oh sage-saw'd Mercury Oh Golden shrined Sol Uenus loues soueraigne Oh dreadfull Saturne flaming aye with furie Moyst-humord Cinthya Author of Lunacie Conioyne helpe to erect our faire Ideas trophie Oh Tresses of faire Phoebus stremed die Oh blessed load-starre lending purest light Oh Paradice of heauenly tapistrie Angels sweete musick ô my soules delight ô fayrest Phebe passing euery other light Whose presence ioyes the earths decayed state Whose counsels are registred in the sphere Whose sweete reflecting clearenes doth amate The starrie lights and makes the Sunne more fayre Whose breathing sweete perfumeth all the ayre Thy snowish necke fayre Natures tresurie Thy swannish breast the hauen of lasting blisse Thy cheekes the bancks of Beauties vsurie Thy heart the myne where goodnes gotten is Thy lips those lips which Cupid ioyes to kisse And those fayre hands within whose louely palmes Fortune diuineth happie Augurie Those straightest fingers dealing heauenly almes Pointed with pur'st of Natures Alcumie Where loue sits looking in loues palmistrie And those fayre Iuorie columnes which vpreare That Temple built by heauens Geometrie And holiest Flamynes sacrifizen theare Vnto that
heauenly Queene of Chastitie Where vertues burning lamps can neuer quenched be Thence see the fairest light that euer shone That cleare which doth worlds cleerenes quite surpasse Braue Phoebus chayred in his golden throane Beholding him in this pure Christall glasse See here the fayrest fayre that euer was Delicious fountaine liquid christalline Mornings vermilion verdant spring-times pride Purest of purest most refined fine With crimson tincture curiously Idy'd Mother of Muses great Apollos bride Earths heauen worlds wonder hiest house of fame Reuiuer of the dead eye-killer of the liue Belou'd of Angels Vertues greatest name Fauors rar'st feature beauties prospectiue Oh that my verse thy vertues could contriue That stately Theater on whose fayre stage Each morall vertue actes a princely part Where euery scene pronounced by a Sage Eternizeth diuinest Poets Arte Ioyes the beholders eyes and glads the hearers hart The worlds memorials that sententious booke Where euery Comma points a curious phrase Vpon whose method Angels ioye to looke At euery Colon Wisdomes selfe doth pause And euery Period hath his hie applause Read in her eyes a Romant of delights Read in her words the prouerbs of the wise Read in her life the holy vestall rites Which loue and vertue sweetly moralize And she the Academ of vertues exercise But on thy volumes who is there may comment When as thy selfe hath Arts selfe vndermined Or vndertake to coate thy learned margent When learnings lines are euer enterlined And purest words are in thy mouth refined Knewest thou thy vertues oh thou fayr'st of fayrest Thou earths sole Phenix of the world admired Vertue in thee repurify'd and rarest Whose endles fame by time is not expired Then of thy selfe would thy selfe be admired But arte wants arte to frame so pure a Myrror VVhere humaine eyes may view thy vertues beautie VVhen fame is so surprised with the terror wanting to pay the tribute of her duetie with colours who can paint out vertues beautie But since vnperfect are the perfects colours And skill is so vnskilfull how to blaze thee Now will I make a myrror of my dolours and in my teares then looke thy selfe and prayse thee oh happy I if such a glasse might please thee Goe gentle windes and whisper in her eare and tell Idea how much I adore her And thou my flock reporte vnto my fayre How she excelleth all that went before her Tell her the very foules in ayre adore her And thou cleare Brooke by whose fayre siluer streame Grow those tall Okes where I haue caru'd her name Conuay her praise to Neptunes watery Realme refresh the rootes of her still growing fame and teach the Dolphins to resound her name Motto Cease shepheard cease reserue thy Muses store Till after time shall teach thy Oaten reede Aloft in ayre with Egles wings to sore and sing in honor of some worthies deede to serue Idea in some better steede She sees not shepheard no she will not see her rarest vertues blazond by thy quill Nor knowes the effect the same hath wrought in thee The very tuch and anuile of thy skill and this is that which bodeth all thy ill Yet if her vertues glorie shall decay Or if her beauties flower shall hap to fall Or any cloud eclipse her sun-shine day Then looke Idea in thy pastorall And thou thy vertues vnto minde shalt call Rowland Shepheard farewell the skies begin to lowre Yon pitchie clowd which hangeth in the West I feare me doth presage some sodaine showre Come let vs home for so I think it best For all our flocks been laid them downe to rest Motto And if thou list to come vnto my Coate Although God knowes my cheere be to too small And wealth with me was neuer yet afloate Yet take in gree what euer doe befall And wee will sit and sing a mery madrigall Rowland Per superos iuro testes pampamque Deorum Te Dominam nobis tempus in omne fore Motto Nos quoque per totum pariter cantabimur orbem Iunctáque semper erunt nomina nostratuis THE SIXT EGLOG. Good Gorbo cals to mind the fame of our old Ancestrie And Perkin sings Pandoras prayse The Muse of Britanye Perkin ALL haile good Gorbo yet return'd at last What tell me man how goes the world with thee What is it worse then it was wont to be Or been thy youthfull dayes already past Haue patience man for wealth will come and goe And to the end the world shall ebbe and flowe The valiant man whose thoughts on hie been placed And sees sometime how fortune list to rage With wisdome still his actions so doth gage As with her frownes he no whit is disgraced And when she fawnes and turnes her squinting eye Bethinks him then of her inconstancie When as the Cullian and the viler Clowne Who with the swine on draffe sets his desire And thinks no life to wallowing in the myre In stormie tempest dying layes him downe Yet tasting weale the asse begins to bray And feeling woe the beast consumes away Gorbo So said the Sage in his Philofophie The Lordly hart inspir'd with noblesse VVith courage doth his crosses still suppresse His patience doth his passions mortifie vvhen other folke this paine cannot endure because they vvant this med'cine for their cure Perkin And yet oft times the vvorld I doe admire VVhen as the vvise and vertuous men I see Be hard beset vvith neede and pouertie And lewdest fooles to highest things aspire vvhat should I say that fortune is to blame or vnto vvhome should I impute this shame Gorbo Vertue and Fortune neuer could agree Foule Fortune euer vvas faire vertues foe Blinde Fortune blindly doth her gifts bestovve But vertue wise and vvisely doth foresee they tall vvhich trust to fortunes fickle vvheele but staied by vertue men shall neuer reele Perkin If so vvhy should she not be more regarded Why should men cherish vice and villanie And maintaine sinne and basest rogerie And vertue thus so slightly be revvarded this shevves that vve full deepe dissemblers be and all vve doe but meere hypocrisie Gorbo Where been those Nobles Perkin vvhere been they Where been those vvorthies Perkin vvhich of yore This gentle Ladie did so much adore And for her Impes did vvith such care puruey they been ysvvadled in their vvinding sheete and she I thinke is buried at their feete Oh vvorthy vvorld vvherein those vvorthies liued Vnvvorthy vvorld of such men so vnvvorthy Vnvvorthy age of all the most vnvvorthy Which art of these so vvorthy men depriued and invvardly in vs is nothing lesse Than outvvardly that vvhich vve most professe Perkin Nay stay good Gorbo Vertue is not dead Nor all her friends be gone which wonned here She liues with one who euer held her deere And to her lappe for succour she is fled In her sweete bosome she hath built her nest And from the world euen there she liues at rest Vnto this sacred Ladie she was left To be an heire-loome by her ancestrie And so bequeathed