The Whole Works of William Browne of Tavistock ... Now first collected and edited, with a memoir of the poet, and notes, by W. Carew Hazlitt, of the Inner Temple |
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The Whole Works of William Browne | ||
But let vs leaue (faire Muse) the bankes of Po,
Thetis forsooke his braue streame long agoe,
And we must after. See in haste she sweepes
Along the Celticke shores, th' Armorick deepes
She now is entring: beare vp then a head,
And by that time she hath discouered
Our Alablaster rocks, we may descry
And ken with her, the coasts of Britany.
There will she Anchor cast, to heare the Songs
Of English Shepherds, whose all-tunefull tongues
So pleas'd the Nayades, they did report
Their songs perfection in great Nereus Court:
Which Thetis hearing, did appoint a day
When she would meet them in the Brittish Sea,
And thither for each Swaine a Dolphin bring
To ride with her, whilst she would heare him sing.
The time prefixt was come; and now the Starre
Of blissefull light appear'd, when she her Carre
Staid in the narrow Seas. At Thames faire port
The Nymphes and Shepherds of the Isle resort.
And thence did put to Sea with mirthfull rounds,
Whereat the billowes dance aboue their bounds,
And bearded Goats, that on the clouded head
Of any sea-suruaying Mountaine fed,
Leauing to crop the Iuy, listning stood
At those sweet ayres which did intrance the flood
In iocund sort the Goddesse thus they met.
And after reu'rence done, all being set
Vpon their finny Coursers, round her throne,
And she prepar'd to cut the watry Zone
Ingirting Albion; all their pipes were still,
And Colin Clout began to tune his quill
With such deepe Art, that euery one was giuen
To thinke Apollo (newly slid from heau'n)
Had tane a humane shape to win his loue,
Or with the Westerne Swaines for glory stroue.
He sung th' heroicke Knights of Faiery land
In lines so elegant, of such command,
That had the Thracian plaid but halfe so well,
He had not left Eurydice in hell.
But e're he ended his melodious song
An host of Angels flew the clouds among,
And rapt this Swan from his attentiue mates,
To make him one of their associates
In heauens faire Quire: where now he sings the praise
Of him that is the first and last of dayes.
Diuinest Spencer heau'n-bred, happy Muse!
Would any power into my braine infuse
Thy worth, or all that Poets had before,
I could not praise till thou deseru'st no more.
Thetis forsooke his braue streame long agoe,
And we must after. See in haste she sweepes
Along the Celticke shores, th' Armorick deepes
She now is entring: beare vp then a head,
And by that time she hath discouered
Our Alablaster rocks, we may descry
And ken with her, the coasts of Britany.
There will she Anchor cast, to heare the Songs
Of English Shepherds, whose all-tunefull tongues
So pleas'd the Nayades, they did report
Their songs perfection in great Nereus Court:
Which Thetis hearing, did appoint a day
When she would meet them in the Brittish Sea,
And thither for each Swaine a Dolphin bring
To ride with her, whilst she would heare him sing.
The time prefixt was come; and now the Starre
Of blissefull light appear'd, when she her Carre
Staid in the narrow Seas. At Thames faire port
The Nymphes and Shepherds of the Isle resort.
And thence did put to Sea with mirthfull rounds,
Whereat the billowes dance aboue their bounds,
193
Of any sea-suruaying Mountaine fed,
Leauing to crop the Iuy, listning stood
At those sweet ayres which did intrance the flood
In iocund sort the Goddesse thus they met.
And after reu'rence done, all being set
Vpon their finny Coursers, round her throne,
And she prepar'd to cut the watry Zone
Ingirting Albion; all their pipes were still,
And Colin Clout began to tune his quill
With such deepe Art, that euery one was giuen
To thinke Apollo (newly slid from heau'n)
Had tane a humane shape to win his loue,
Or with the Westerne Swaines for glory stroue.
He sung th' heroicke Knights of Faiery land
In lines so elegant, of such command,
That had the Thracian plaid but halfe so well,
He had not left Eurydice in hell.
But e're he ended his melodious song
An host of Angels flew the clouds among,
And rapt this Swan from his attentiue mates,
To make him one of their associates
In heauens faire Quire: where now he sings the praise
Of him that is the first and last of dayes.
Diuinest Spencer heau'n-bred, happy Muse!
Would any power into my braine infuse
Thy worth, or all that Poets had before,
I could not praise till thou deseru'st no more.
The Whole Works of William Browne | ||