University of Virginia Library

The first Booke of Enamoured Diana.

[Long haue I felt a silent paine of sorrow]

[That mighty Loue, though blinde of both his eies]

That mighty Loue, though blinde of both his eies,
Doth hit the Center of the wounded hart:
And though a boy yet Mars he foiles with dart,
Awaking him, where in his net he lies:
And that his flames doe freeze me in such wise,
That from my soule a feare doth neuer start
Most base and vile: yet to the highest part
(Strengthned by land and sea) of heauen it flies.
That he, whom Loue doth wound or prisoner take,
Liues in his greefes, and with his giues content:
This is his might that many woonder at.
And that the soule which greatest paine doth shake,
If that it doth but thinke of Loues torment,
The feare of such a thought forgetteth that.

[Loue is not blinde, but I, which fondly guide]

Loue is not blinde, but I, which fondly guide
My will to tread the path of amorous paine:
Loue is no childe, but I, which all in vaine,
Hope, feare, and laugh, and weepe on euery side:
Madnes to say, that flames are Cupids pride,
For my desire his fier doth containe,
His wings my thoughts most high and soueraine,
And that vaine hope, wherein my ioies abide:
Loue hath no chaines nor shaftes of such intent,
To take and wound the whole and freest minde,
Whose power (then we giue him) is no more,
For loue's a tale, that Poets did inuent,
A dreame of fooles, an idoll vaine and blinde:
See then how blacke a God doe we adore?

[He that in freedome iets it proude and braue]

Prouencall Rythmes.

Alcida.
While Titan in his Coach with burning beames
Ouer the world with such great force doth ride,
That Nymphes, and their chaste companies abide
In woods, and springs, and shallowe shadowed streames:
And while the prating grashopper replies
Her song in mourning wise,
Shepherdesse sing
So sweete a thing,
That th' heauens may bee
By hearing thee
Made gentle, on their owne accord to power
Vpon this meade a fresh and siluer shower.

Diana.
Whiles that the greatest of the Planets staies
Iust in the mids betweene the East and west,
And in the field vpon the mowers brest
With greater heate doth spread his scorching raies:
The silent noise this pleasant fountaine yeeldes,
That runs amids these fieldes,
Such musicke mooues,
As woonder prooues,
And makes so kinde
The furious winde,
That by delight thereof, their force they stay,
And come to blowe as gently as they may.

Alcida.
You running riuers pure and christalline,
That all the yeere doe make a liuely spring,
And beautifie your banks and euery thing,
With Cowslips, Lillies, and sweete Colombine,
The cruell heate of Phœbus come not neere
To beate this fountaine cleere,
Nor that such sweete
Liquour, with feete
Troubled be not
Of sheepe or goat:
Nor that the teares, which faithlesse iouers wast
In these fine waters neuer may be cast.

Diana.
Greene flowrie meade, where natures curious die
Hath showen her colours diuers in their kinde,
With trees, and flowers, whereto they are combinde,
Which paintes thee foorth so faire vnto the eie:
In thee thy boughes of verdure may not knowe
The blustring windes that blowe,
Prosper, and giue
Flowers, and liue:
Not to be lost
By heate or frost:
Nor angrie heauen in furie doe not stoile,
Nor hurt so faire a meade, and fertill soile.

Alcida.
Heere from the hurly burly, and the noise
Of stately courtes sequestred, euery one
Reposedly liues by himselfe alone,
In quiet peace, in harmlesse sportes and ioies:
In shades sometimes, laide downe on Floras pride
Neere to some riuers side,
Where birdes doe yeeld
Sweete notes in field,
And flowers fine
Odours diuine:
And alwaies with an order soueraine
The meadow laughes, the wood, the hill, and plaine.

Diana.
The noise made heere by silent gentle windes
In flowrie boughes, the leaues that softly shake,
Delighteth more, then that the people make
In great assemblies, where their sundrie kindes
Of proud demeanours, and high maiesties,
Are foolish vanities:
Their solemne feastes
Breede but vnrestes,
Their honours name
Blinde errours frame:
And all their holy wordes cleane different
From that, that in their harts was euer ment.

Alcida.
Ambition heere no snares nor nets regardes,
Nor auarice for crownes doth lay her bates:
The people heere aspire not to estates,
Nor hungers after fauours, nor rewardes:
From guile and fraude, and passion, as we see,
Their harts are euer free.
Their faith's not vaine,
But good and plaine:
Their malice small,
They iust to all,
Which makes them liue in ioy and quiet peace,
And in a meane sufficient for their ease.

Diana.
To new found worlds, nor seas, that rage and swell,
The simple Shepherd neuer sailes in vaine:
Nor to the furdest Indias, for his gaine,
Thousandes of leagues, and duckates there to tell:
Vnto the field he comes as well content,
With that that God hath sent;
As he that spendes
Rents without endes:
And liues (perdie)
As merily
As he that hath great flockes vpon his hils,
And of good ground a thousand acres tils.

[I cannot be by Loues wrath more tormented]

I cannot be by Loues wrath more tormented,
Nor Fortune can to me be more vnstable:
There is no soule in hope so little able,
Nor hart that is with paine so much contented:
Loue doth inforce my fainting breath, that striueth
The better to endure my hard reiection,
And yet with hope my suffrance, and affection,
And life will not consume, that yet reuiueth:
O vainest hart, sad eies, whose teares haue spent me,
Why in so long a time, and with such anguish,
End not my plaints, and spirits deadly languish?
O woes, sufficeth it not what you haue sent me?
O Loue, why dost thou thus my torments nourish,
And let Alcida in her freedome flourish?

Marcelius his letter to Alcida.

That maiestie so princely, graue, and sweete,
That modest blush, that gentle seemely grace,
Those lookes so chaste, and hauiour so discreete,
Those golden vertues, that thou dost imbrace
(Besides thy beautie, which the world resoundes
With famous name) from heauen that brought their race,
In such a narrow streight, with bleeding woundes
Haue set my hart (Alcida heauenly faire)
That euery thing my woonted rest confoundes;
For that which breedes my loue, is my despaire,
And so restraines my soule, that faine it would
Say nought, although it cost my vitall aire.
What man of flint, that euer did behold
The burning beames that thy faire eies doe cast,
But waxed dumbe, and died with mortall cold?
Who euer sawe those beauties rare and chaste,
More perfect then the starrie skie aboue,
Or any liuing now or gone or past,
That presently felt not a feruent loue?
The cause whereof his senses so would vse,
As not to let him speake for his behoue:
So much I passe by silence, that I muse
That sad complaintes my hart doe neuer kill,
Nor breake my brest with anguish so confuse:
My ioies are none, my woes continue still,
My paine is firme, and all my hope is vaine,
I liue alas, and die in greeuous ill:
And take reuenge vpon my selfe againe,
That which I most eschew, doth take me straight:
And what I most desire, I lest obtaine:
For that, that lest behooues me, I awaite,
Not comfort for my greefe, that neuer endes,
Ioying in paine, wherewith my soule I fraight:
Yet my delight and life so far extendes,
As thought of that great distance doth abide,
That twixt thy beautie, grace, and me dependes:
For in my soule I doe conceiue a pride,
That I haue put it in so high a place:
Where constancie and hope my hart doe guide.
But yet thy gentle, and sweete Angels face
Against my soule such mortall war doe threate,
That thousand liues dare not abide the chace.
To feare me yet the passage's not so great,
Nor way so steepe, nor craggie, that shall stay
My forward steps with danger, or deceate:
I follow then my ruine and decay,
The path of paine, and seeke not to decline
From greeuous plaints, that force me eueryday.
Yet endlesse ioy my heauie hart doth shrine,
And glads my life, by wished paine opprest:
That glories strangely in these greefes of mine.
Paine's my delight, my plaints my sport and iest,
My sighes sweete soundes, my death my glory makes,
My woundes my health, my flames my happy rest,
Nothing I see, which stirs not, and awakes
My furious torment and her endlesse wheele;
But happy fortune by the same it takes:
These ils (sweete Mistresse) for thy sake I feele,
And in these passions liue, and die tormented
With equall paine, and suffrance, well contented.
Let then a man despairing of releefe,
Who to thy loue his doubtfull life assignes,
Mooue thee to some compassion of his greefe,
By reading of these hart-breake written lines,
Since that he craues no helpe for all his mone,
But onely that his torment may be knowne.

[O Sandie desart and drie barren meade]

O Sandie desart and drie barren meade,
Thou that hast heard the sound of my lament,
O swelling seas fierce winde to changing bent,
Chang'd with my sighes, that are in sorrow bread
Hard recke, wherein for euer may be read
My torment heerein grauen, and permanent:
Truly report my paines which you present.
For that Marcelius heere hath left me dead,
My sister stolne, he hath forgotten mee
His faith, his sailes, and then my hope forlorne
Commend I to the windes, and witnes yee
That loue I will not any man that's borne,
To scape those seas where calmes are neuer any,
Nor combat foes, that are so fierce and many.

[Now that the sunne doth hide his golden beames]

Taurisus.
Now that the sunne doth hide his golden beames
Behinde the hils, whose shadowes doe increase:
And labouring men vnyoke their wearie teames
And leaue of worke, their wearied lims to ease:
My sheepe forsake your pastures, and attend
Vnto my fainting voice and hollow cries,
Which without stint or pause of time, I send
Disorderly vnto the carelesse skies:
Harke how my poore and miserable hart
Is in the deepest of a burning flame,
And how my bowels and euery inward part
Are melted with the scorching of the same:
That flame I meane and heate, wherewith my sencelesse soule doth trace
Th' Angelicall and peerelesse beautie of Dianas face.

Berardus.
Before the sunne in radiant Coche doth glide
Downe to the West, to leaue our Hemisphere,
And suffers not the deaw of euening tide
To fall vpon the meadowes any where,
Thou simple Sheepe that oft hast heard my voice,
And gentle lambes which all the sommer long
With merrie glee doe in these meades reioice,
Now lend a gentle eare vnto my song:
My ruthfull song and verse shall not intreate
(Though all the same within my brest I beare)
Of any flames, or coles, or burning heate:
But of that mortall cold and frozen feare,
Wherewith doth bridle and correct the sencelesse soule apace
Th' Angelicall and peerelesse beautie of Dianas face.

Taurisus.
When that my painefull thoughts and pensiue minde
Doe but imagine of her comely graces,
Then burnes my soule so strangely, that I finde
My vitall spirits to leaue their proper places:
Loue doth inforce this suffrance, weake by kinde,
And hope, that's flowne away with feathered paces,
To make my flames still burning in my brest,
Which giues me not one hower of wished rest.

Berardus.
When I consider of my base estate,
And high perfections of my Shepherdesse,
Then doth my hart retire with fearefull gate,
And pinching frost my timorous soule possesse:
Loue will I liue in hope of happinesse,
And so I doe sometimes, but fortunes hate
To quaking feare subiecteth euery power,
Which makes me not enioy one happy hower.

Taurisus.
In such ill time, I sawe the burning light
Of those cleere stars, whose like was neuer seene,
That face, that grace, those vertues infinite,
With which Diana raignes as fairest Queene:
That my desires are kindled by those bright
And shining beames, that I doe neuer weene
To hope for ease of these excessiue flames
That burnes my soule, and breedes a thousand blames.

Berardus.
In such ill time I sawe those daintie handes
Of whitest Iuorie, fram'd for thousand smartes,
And those two eies, where little Cupid standes
Wounding the freest mindes with mortall dartes:
That my small forces with his mighty bandes
Confounded, foiled, and fearfully departes,
And then remaines so weakned with his ire,
That shiuering feare doth conquer my desire.

Taurisus.
Didst euer see a lightning from the skies
With mightie force to rend an aged Oke?
So strong is that and terrible, which lies
Within my brest, all smoothered in the smoke:
Didst euer see the violent force of brookes,
That from the highest rocks fall headlong downe?
So proud, so fierce, and angrie in her lookes
Diana seemes, when she begins to frowne:
But her pretences are too far
To make me sad by base and seruile feare,
For greater that the dangers are,
The greater is the firmenes which I beare.

Berardus.
Didst euer see the snowe in any hill
To lie, and melt before the sunnie beames?
So doe I waste with sighes and teares distill
Before those lights that from her beautie streames:
Didst euer see in any bloodie broile
Some simple Shepherd put to fearefull flight?
With no lesse feare (poore man) I doe recoile,
Leauing my sheepe (whilome my best delight)
And in this cold and frozen feare
I merit more, and in my trembling brest
More comfort and content doe beare,
Then in that heate so bold and manifest.

Taurisus.
My greefe (Berardus) which I feele, is of such suttell Art,
That it doth trouble still my soule and euery part consume
Thereof, which neuer to resist, durst once presume for feare,
But euen as gently as it may, and must with meare consent
Yeeld vp her life into the hands of him that's bent to tame
The proudest harts: And ioyfull in his burning flame I liue:
And as they doe of comfort giue me store
For more content, so would I wish for more.

Berardus.
The Gods (Taurisus) and the heauens haue made so passing faire
This star Diana, whose golden gleames of glittring haire and face
Doe with their lights illuminate my life, and chace away
The darkest cloudes, restoring to mine eies a day so bright,
That if I am beholding her the shining light and blaze
Of those two stars, mine eies and senses doe amaze and blinde,
That casting them vnto the ground, my hopes I finde so bare,
That, though I would, not once I dare complaine
Or see, or sue, or tell her of my paine.

Taurisus.
This louely Nymph would neuer list
Vnto my wofull cries,
But in her rigour doth persist
And from my succour flies:
And pitilesse to see my death would neuer turne her eies.
O cruell eies, O cruell paine,
O beautie, cruell foe:
Yet doth my faith so firme remaine,
That all my cares and woe
It doth encourage in such sort, and feares doth ouerthrowe,
That like a sturdie rocke it standes
Against the cruell raues
(Though fencelesse in the naked sandes)
Of beating windes and waues.
And how much more with conquering hand my hart she doth controule,
By so much doe I adde more heate vnto my burning soule.

Berardus.
The woods and mountaines doe not beare
Woolues of such crueltie;
Whose howling threats I feare not theare,
And yet aiealousie
Doth make my hart to quake for feare,
And yeeld most cowardly.
I am not able to defend
My weake and feeble brest
From thousand feares, where they pretend
To build their strongest nest:
And with their entrance driue away my hopes, my ioy and rest.
There they commaund and gouerne all,
And proudly tyrannize,
And there my soule to endlesse thrall
And bodie sacrifice.
O cruell Loue, whom cruell death must needes at last succeede,
O why with such consuming tortures die I not in deede?

Taurisus.
Neere to this Christall fountaine on a day
I sawe Diana sitting with her spouse,
And as by chaunce I crost the woods that way,
Espied them behinde these hasell bowes:
Dying with greefe impatience, and despite
To see (which I would not haue seene) that sight.
Nothing he spake, but with his clownish hand
Did rudely touch, and claspe her round about:
(Her tender corpes, the smallest in this land,
Too daintie and fine for such a homely lout.)
And so he sat, and did not stir
In this vnseemely sort with her.
But when my iealous eies so base a thing espied
With mortall rage I burn'd and cruell enuie died.

Berardus.
To walke the woods in sweetest moneth of May
When winter hides his hoarie head for shame,
Diana with her husband on a day
The glorie of the farest women came.
A vaile of Lawne vpon her golden haire
With siluer pins enfolded euery where,
A thousand sportes and pastimes did I see
How she found out, his minde to recreate:
And as I lurk'd behinde a Poplar tree,
How louingly she dallied with her mate:
Whom I did see reach foorth his hand
Vnto her necke as white as swan,
Wherewith he did vndoe her vaile and loose her shining haire,
Which sight did kill my hart with feare enwrapped in despaire.

[The cause why that thou dost denie]

Taurisus.
The cause why that thou dost denie
To looke on me, sweete foe impart?

Diana.
Bicause that doth not please the eie,
Which doth offend and greeue the hart.

Taurisus.
What woman is, or euer was,
That when she looketh, could be mou'd?

Diana.
She that resolues her life to passe,
Neither to loue nor to be lou'd.

Taurisus.
There is no hart so fierce nor hard,
That can so much torment a soule.

Diana.
Nor Shepherd of so small regard,
That reason will so much controule.

Taurisus.
How fals it out Loue doth not kill
Thy crueltie with some remorce?

Diana.
Bicause that Loue is but a will,
And free will doth admit no force.

Taurisus.
Behold what reason now thou hast;
To remedie my louing smart?

Diana.
The very same bindes me as fast,
To keepe such danger from my hart.

Taurisus.
Why dost thou thus torment my minde,
And to what end thy beautie keepe?

Diana.
Bicause thou call'st me still vnkinde,
And pitilesse when thou dost weepe.

Taurisus.
It is bicause thy crueltie
In killing me doth neuer end:

Diana.
Nay for bicause I meane thereby
My hart from sorrowes to defend.

Taurisus.
Behold so foule I am no way
As thou dost thinke, falre Shepherdesse:

Diana.
With this content thee, that I say,
That I beleeue the same no lesse.

Taurisus.
What after giuing me such store
Of passions, dost thou mocke me too?

Diana.
If answers thou wilt anymore
Goe seeke them without more adoo.

[End now my life, with daily paines affrighted]

End now my life, with daily paines affrighted,
Since that for all that I haue wept and greeued,
My teares are not required,
And trustie faith not any whit beleeued.
I am in such a haplesse state of sorrowe,
That I would be content (and so releeue me)
Vniust rewardes and scornes of her to borrow,
Onely that she would credit and beleeue me.
But though my life is thus with woes despired,
And though to be most constant, neuer greeued,
My paines are not requited,
And trustie faith not any whit beleeued.

[Ah such an one I euer was, since that]