University of Virginia Library

The Second Song.

The Argvment.

What Shepheards on the Sea were seene
To entertaine the Oceans Queene,
Remond in search of Fida gone,
And for his loue yong Doridon,
Their meeting with a wofull Swaine,
Mute, and not able to complaine
His metamorphos'd Mistresse wrong;
Is all the subiect of this Song.
The Mvses friend (gray-eyde Aurora) yet
Held all the Meadowes in a cooling sweat,
The milke-white Gossamores not vpwards snow'd,
Nor was the sharpe and vsefull steering goad
Laid on the strong-neckt Oxe; no gentle bud
The Sun had dride; the cattle chew'd the cud
Low leuel'd on the grasse; no Flyes quicke sting
Inforc'd the Stonehorse in a furious ring
To teare the passiue earth, nor lash his taile
About his buttockes broad; the slimy Snaile
Might on the wainscot (by his many mazes
Winding Meanders and selfe-knitting traces)
Be follow'd, where he stucke, his glittering slime
Not yet wip't off. It was so early time,
The carefull Smith had in his sooty forge
Kindled no coale; nor did his hammers vrge
His neighbours patience: Owles abroad did flye,
And day as then might plead his infancy.
Yet of faire Albion all the westerne Swaines
Were long since vp, attending on the Plaines
When Nereus daughter with her mirthfull hoast
Should summon them, on their declining coast.
But since her stay was long: for feare the Sun
Should finde them idle, some of them begun
To leape and wrastle, others threw the barre;
Some from the company remoued are,
To meditate the songs they meant to play,
Or make a new Round for next Holiday:
Some tales of loue their loue-sicke fellowes told:
Others were seeking stakes to pitch their fold.
This, all alone was mending of his Pipe:
That, for his lasse sought fruits most sweet most ripe.
Here (from the rest) a louely shepherds boy
Sits piping on a hill, as if his ioy
Would still endure, or else that ages frost
Should neuer make him thinke what he had lost.
Yonder a shepherdesse knits by the springs,
Her hands still keeping time to what she sings:
Or seeming, by her song, those fairest hands
Were comforted in working. Neere the sands
Of some sweet Riuer sits a musing lad,
That moanes the losse of what he sometime had,
His Loue by death bereft: when fast by him
An aged Swaine takes place, as neere the brim
Of's graue as of the Riuer; shewing how
That as those floods, which passe along right now
Are follow'd still by others from their spring,
And in the Sea haue all their burying:
Right so our times are knowne, our ages found,
(Nothing is permanent within this Round:)
One age is now, another that succeeds,
Extirping all things which the former breeds:
Another followes that, doth new times raise,
New yeers, new months, new weeks, new houres, new daies,
Mankinde thus goes like Riuers from their spring,
And in the Earth haue all their burying.
Thus sate the old man counselling the young;
Whilst, vnderneath a tree which ouer-hung
The siluer streame (as some delight it tooke
To trim his thicke boughes in the Crystall Brooke)
Were set a iocund crew of youthfull Swaines,
Wooing their sweetings with delicious straines.
Sportiue Oreades the hils descended,
The Hamadryades their hunting ended,
And in the high woods left the long-liu'd Harts
To feed in peace, free from their winged Darts;
Floods, Mountains, Vallies, Woods, each vacant lies
Of Nimphs that by them danc'd their Haydigyes:
For all those Powers were ready to embrace
The present meanes, to giue our Shepherds grace.
And vnderneath this tree (till Thetis came)
Many resorted; where a Swaine, of name
Lesse, then of worth: (and we doe neuer owne
Nor apprehend him best, that most is knowne.)
Fame is vncertaine, who so swiftly flyes
By th' vnregarded shed where Vertue lies:
Shee (ill inform'd of Vertues worth) pursu'th
(In haste) Opinion for the simple Truth.
True Fame is euer likened to our shade,
He soonest misseth her, that most hath made
To ouer-take her; who so takes his wing,
Regardlesse of her, shee'll be following:
Her true proprietie she thus discouers,
“Loues her contemners, and contemnes her louers.
Th' applause of common people neuer yet
Pursu'd this Swaine; he knew't the counterfeit
Of setled praise, and therefore at his songs,
Though all the Shepherds and the gracefull throngs
Of Semigods compar'd him with the best
That euer touch'd a Reed, or was addrest
In shepherds coat, he neuer would approue
Their Attributes, giuen in sincerest loue;
Except he truly knew them as his merit.
Fame giues a second life to such a spirit.
This Swaine, intreated by the mirthfull rout,
That with intwined armes lay round about
The tree 'gainst which he lean'd. (So haue I seene
Tom Piper stand vpon our village greene,
Backt with the May-pole, whilst a iocund crew
In gentle motion circularly threw
Themselues about him.) To his fairest Ring
Thus 'gan in numbers well according sing:
Looke as a Traueller in Summers day
Nye choakt with dust, and molt with Titans ray,
Longs for a spring to coole his inward heat,
And to that end, with vowes, doth heauen intreat,
When going further, finds an Apple-tree,
(Standing as did old Hospitalitie,
With ready armes to succour any needs:)
Hence plucks an Apple, tastes it, and it breeds
So great a liking in him for his thirst,
That vp he climbs, and gathers to the first
A second, third; nay, will not cease to pull
Till he haue got his cap and pockets full.
“Things long desir'd so well esteemed are,
“That when they come we hold them better farre.
“There is no meane 'twixt what we loue and want,
“Desire, in men, is so predominant.
No lesse did all this quaint assembly long
Then doth the Traueller: this Shepherds Song
Had so ensnar'd each acceptable eare,
That but a second, nought could bring them cleare
From an affected snare; had Orpheus beene
Playing, some distance from them, he had seene
Not one to stirre a foot for his rare straine,
But left the Thracian for the English Swaine.
Or had suspicious Iuno (when her Ioue
Into a Cowe transform'd his fairest

Io.

Loue)
Great Inachus sweet Stem in durance giuen
To this young Lad; the

Mercury.

Messenger of heauen
(Faire Maia's off-spring) with the depth of Art
That euer Ioue to Hermes might impart,
In fingring of a Reed, had neuer won
Poore Iö's freedome. And though Arctors son
(Hundred-ey'd Argus) might be lull'd by him,
And loose his pris'ner: yet in euery lym
That God of wit had felt this Shepherds skill,
And by his charmes brought from the Muses hill
Inforc'd to sleepe; then, rob'd of Pipe and Rod,
And vanquish'd so, turne Swaine, this Swaine a God.
Yet to this Lad not wanted Enuies sting,
(“He's not worth ought, that's not worth enuying)
Since many at his praise were seene to grutch.
For as a Miller in his boulting hutch
Driues out the pure meale neerly (as he can)
And in his sister leaues the courser bran:
So doth the canker of a Poets name
Let slip such lines as might inherit Fame,
And from a Volume culs some small amisse,
To fire such dogged spleenes as mate with his.
Yet, as a man that (by his Art) would bring
The ceaslesse current of a Crystall Spring
To ouer-looke the lowly flowing head,
Sinkes by degrees his soder'd Pipes of Lead,
Beneath the Fount, whereby the water goes
High, as a Well that on a mountaine flowes:
So when Detraction and a Cynnicks tongue
Haue sunke Desert vnto the depth of wrong,
By that, the eye of skill, True Worth shall see
To braue the Stars, though low his passage be.
But, here I much digresse, yet pardon, Swaines:
For as a Maiden gath'ring on the Plaines
A sentfull Nosegay (to set neere her pap,
Or as a fauour for her Shepherds cap)
Is seene farre off to stray, if she haue spide
A Flower that might increase her Posies pride:
So if to wander I am sometimes prest,
'Tis for a straine that might adorne the rest.
Requests, that with deniall could not meet,
Flew to our Shepherd, and the voices sweet
Of fairest Nymphes, intreating him to say
What wight he lou'd; he thus began his lay:

Eous, Pyroeis, Aethon, and Phlegon, were fained to be the horses of the Sunne.

Eous and his fellowes in the teame,
(Who, since their watring in the Westerne streame,
Had run a furious iourney to appease
The night-sicke eyes of our Antipodes.)
Now (sweating) were in our Horizon seene
To drinke the cold dew from each flowry greene:
When Tritons Trumpet (with a shrill command)
Told siluer-footed Thetis was at hand.
As I haue seene when on the brest of Thames
A heauenly beauty of sweet English Dames,
In some calme Eu'ning of delightfull May,
With Musicke giue a farewell to the day,
Or as they would (with an admired tone)
Greet Nights ascension to her Eben Throne,
Rapt with their melodie, a thousand more
Run to be wafted from the bounding shore:
So ran the Shepherds, and with hasty feet
Stroue which should first increase that happy fleet.
The true

Dolphins.

presagers of a comming storme,
Teaching their fins to steere them to the forme
Of Thetis will, like Boats at Anchor stood,
As ready to conuay the Muses brood
Into the brackish Lake, that seem'd to swell,
As proud so rich a burden on it fell.
Ere their ariuall Astrophel had done
His shepherds lay, yet equaliz'd of none.
Th' admired mirrour, glory of our Isle,
Thou far-far-more then mortall man, whose stile
Strucke more men dumbe to hearken to thy song,
Then Orpheus Harpe, or Tuilies golden tongue.
To him (as right) for wits deepe quintessence,
For honour, valour, vertue, excellence,
Be all the Garlands, crowne his toombe with Bay,
Who spake as much as ere our tongue can say.
Happy Arcadia! while such louely straines
Sung of thy Vallies, Riuers, Hils and Plaines;
Yet most vnhappy other ioyes among,
That neuer heard'st his Musicke nor his Song.
Deafe men are happy so, whose Vertues praise
(Vnheard of them) are sung in tunefull layes.
And pardon me ye Sisters of the Mountaine,
Who waile his losse from the Pegasian Fountaine,
If (like a man for portraiture vnable)
I set my Pencill to Apelles table;
Or dare to draw his Curtaine, with a will
To show his true worth, when the Artists skill
Within that Curtaine fully doth expresse
His owne Arts-Mastry my vnablenesse.
He sweetly touched, what I harshly hit,
Yet thus I glory in what I haue writ;
Sidney began (and if a wit so meane
May taste with him the dewes of Hippocrene)
I sung the Past'rall next; his Muse, my mouer:
And on the Plaines full many a pensiue louer
Shall sing vs to their loues, and praising be
My humble lines: the more, for praising thee.
Thus we shall liue with them, by Rocks, by Springs,
As well as Homer by the death of Kings.
Then in a straine beyond an Oaten Quill
The learned

M. Chapman

Shepherd of faire Hitching hill
Sung the heroicke deeds of Greece and Troy,
In lines so worthy life, that I imploy
My Reed in vaine to ouertake his fame.
All praiseful tongues doe wait vpon that name.
Our second Ouid, the most pleasing Muse
That heau'n did e're in mortals braine infuse,
All-loued Draiton, in soule-raping straines,
A genuine noat, of all the Nimphish traines
Began to tune; on it all eares were hung
As sometime Dido's on Æneas tongue.
Iohnson whose full of merit to reherse
Too copious is to be confinde in verse;
Yet therein onely fittest to be knowne,
Could any write a line which he might owne.
One, so iudicious; so well knowing; and
A man whose least worth is to vnderstand;
One so exact in all he doth preferre
To able censure; for the Theater
Not Seneca transcends his worth of praise;
Who writes him well shall well deserue the Bayes.
Well-languag'd Danyel: Brooke, whose polisht lines
Are fittest to accomplish high designes,
Whose pen (it seemes) still young Apollo guides;
Worthy the forked Hill, for euer glides
Streames from thy braine, so faire, that time shall see
Thee honour'd by thy Verse, and it by thee.
And when thy Temples well-deseruing Bayes,
Might impe a pride in thee to reach thy praise,
As in a Crystall glasse, fill'd to the ring
With the cleare water of as cleare a spring,
A steady hand may very safely drop
Some quantity of gold, yet o're the top
Not force the liquor run: although before
The Glasse (of water) could containe no more:
Yet so, all-worthy Brooke, though all men sound
With plummets of iust praise thy skill profound,
Thou in thy verse those attributes canst take,
And not apparent ostentation make,
That any second can thy vertues raise,
Striuing as much to hide as merit praise.
Davies and Wither, by whose Muses power
A naturall day to me seemes but an houre,
And could I euer heare their learned layes,
Ages would turne to artificiall dayes.
These sweetly chanted to the Queene of Waues,
She prais'd, and what she prais'd, no tongue depraues.
Then base contempt (vnworthy our report)
Fly from the Muses and their faire resort,
And exercise thy spleene on men like thee:
Such are more fit to be contemn'd then wee.
'Tis not the rancour of a cankred heart
That can debase the excellence of Art;
Nor great in titles make our worth obey,
Since we haue lines farre more esteem'd then they.
For there is hidden in a Poets name
A Spell that can command the wings of Fame,
And maugre all Obliuions hated birth,
Begin their immortalitie on earth;
When he that gainst a Muse with hate combines,
May raise his Tombe in vaine to reach our lines.
Thus Thetis rides along the narrow seas
Encompast round with lovely Naides,
With gaudy Nymphs, and many a skilfull Swaine,
Whose equals earth cannot produce againe,
But leaue the times and men that shall succeed them
Enough to praise that age which so did breed them.
Two of the quaintest Swaines that yet haue beene,
Fail'd their attendance on the Oceans Queene:
Remond and Doridon, whose haplesse Fates
Late seuer'd them from their more happy mates.
For (gentle Swaines) if you remember well,
When last I sung on brim of yonder dell,
And as I ghesse it was that sunny morne,
When in the groue thereby my sheepe were shorne,
I weene I told you, while the Shepherds yong
Were at their Past'rall and their rurall Song,
The shrikes of some poore Maid, fallen in mischance,
Inuok't their aid, and drew them from their dance:
Each ran a seuerall way to helpe the Maid;
Some tow'rds the Vallie, some the green wood straid:
Here one the thicket beats, and there a Swaine
Enters the hidden Caues; but all in vaine.
Nor could they finde the wight whose shrikes and cry
Flew through the gentle ayre so heauily,
Nor see or man or beast, whose cruell teene
Would wrong a Maiden or in graue or greene.
Backe then return'd they all to end their sport
But Doridon and Remond, who resort
Backe to those places which they erst had sought,
Nor could a thicket be by Nature wrought
In such a web, so intricate, and knit
So strong with Bryers, but they would enter it.
Remond his Fida cals; Fida the woods
Resound againe, and Fida speake the floods,
As if the Riuers and the Hils did frame
Themselues no small delight, to heare her name.
Yet she appeares not. Doridon would now
Haue call'd his Loue too, but he knew not how:
Much like a man who, dreaming in his sleepe
That he is falling from some Mountaine steepe
Into a soundlesse Lake, about whose brim
A thousand Crocodiles doe wait for him,
And hangs but by one bough, and should that breake
His life goes with it, yet to cry or speake,
Though faine he would, can moue nor voyce nor tongue:
So when he Remond heard the woods among
Call for his Fida, he would gladly too
Haue call'd his fairest Loue, but knew not who,
Or what to call; poore Lad, that canst not tell,
Nor speake the name of her thou lou'st so well.
Remond by hap neere to the Arbour found,
Where late the Hynd was slaine, the hurtlesse ground
Besmear'd with blood; to Doridon he cride,
And tearing then his haire, ô haplesse tide
(Quoth he), behold! some cursed hand hath tane
From Fida this; ô what infernall bane,
Or more then hellish fiend inforced this!
Pure as the streame of aged Symois,
And as the spotlesse Lilly was her soule!
Yee sacred Powers that round about the Pole
Turne in your Spheares! ô could you see this deed,
And keep your motion? If the eldest seed
Of chained Saturne hath so often beene
In Hunters and in Shepherds habit seene
To trace our Woods, and on our fertile Plaines
Wooe Shepherds Daughters with melodious strains,
Where was he now, or any other Powre?
So many seu'rall Lambes haue I each howre
And crooked horned Rams brought to your Shrines,
And with Perfumes clouded the Sun that shines,
Yet now forsaken? to an vncouth state
Must all things run, if such will be ingrate.
Cease Remond (quoth the Boy) no more complaine,
Thy fairest Fida liues; nor doe thou staine
With vile reproaches any power aboue,
They all as much as thee haue beene in loue:
Saturne his Rhea; Jupiter had store,
As Iö, Leda, Eurŏpa, and more;
Mars entred Vulcans bed; pertooke his ioy:
Phœbus had Daphne, and the

Hyacinth.

sweet-fac'd Boy;
Venus, Adonis; and the God of Wit
In chastest bonds was to the Muses knit,
And yet remaines so, nor can any seuer
His loue, but brother-like affects them euer;
Pale-changefull Cinthia her Endimion had,
And oft on Latmus sported with that Lad:
If these were subiect (as all mortall men)
Vnto the golden shafts, they could not then
But by their owne affections rightly ghesse
Her death would draw on thine; thy wretchednesse
Charge them respectlesse; since no Swaine then thee
Hath offred more vnto each Deitie.
But feare not, Remond, for those sacred Powres
Tread on obliuion; no desert of ours
Can be intoomb'd in their celestiall brests;
They weigh our offrings, and our solemne feasts,
And they forget thee not: Fida (thy deere)
Treads on the earth, the blood that's sprinkled here
Ne're fill'd her veynes, the Hynd possest this gore,
See where the Coller lyes she whilome wore;
Some Dog hath slaine her, or the griping Carle
That spoiles our Plaines in digging them for Marle.
Looke, as two little Brothers who, addrest
To searche the hedges for a Thrushes nest,
And haue no sooner got the leauy Spring,
When mad in lust with fearefull bellowing
A strong-neckt Bull pursues throughout the field,
One climbes a tree, and takes that for his shield,
Whence looking from one pasture to another,
What might betide to his much-loued Brother,
Further then can his ouer-drowned eyes
Aright perceiue, the furious beast he spies
Tosse something on his hornes, he knowes not what,
But one thing feares, and therefore thinkes it that;
When comming nigher he doth well discerne
It of the wondrous-one-night-seeding Ferne
Some bundle was: yet thence he home-ward goes
Pensiue and sad, nor can abridge the throes
His feare began, but still his minde doth moue
Vnto the worst: Mistrust goes still with Loue.
So far'd it with our Shepherd: though he saw
Not ought of Fida's rayment, which might draw
A more suspicion; though the Coller lay
There on the grasse, yet goes he thence away
Full of mistrust, and vowes to leaue that Plaine,
Till he embrace his chastest Loue againe.
Loue-wounded Doridon intreats him then
That he might be his partner, since no men
Had cases liker; he with him would goe,
Weepe when he wept, and sigh when he did so:
I (quoth the Boy) will sing thee songs of loue,
And as we sit in some all-shady groue,
Where Philomela and such sweetned throats
Are for the mastry tuning various notes,
I'le striue with them, and tune so sad a Verse,
That whilst to thee my fortunes I rehearse,
No Bird but shall be mute, her note decline,
And cease her woe, to lend an eare to mine.
I'le tell thee tales of loue, and shew thee how
The Gods haue wandred as we Shepherds now,
And when thou plain'st thy Fida's losse, will I
Eccho the same, and with mine owne supply
Know, Remond, I doe loue, but, well-a-day!
I know not whom; but as the gladsome May
Shee's faire and louely, as a Goddesse she
(If such as hers a Goddesse beauty be)
First stood before me, and inquiring was
How to the Marish she might soonest passe,
When rusht a Villaine in, hell be his lot,
And drew her thence, since when I saw her not,
Nor know I where to search; but if thou please
'Tis not a Forrest, Mountaine, Rockes, or Seas
Can in thy iourney stop my going on.
Fate so may smile on haplesse Doridon,
That he reblest may be with her faire sight,
Though thence his eyes possesse eternall night.
Remond agreed, and many weary dayes
They now had spent in vnfrequented wayes:
About the Riuers, Vallies, Holts and Crags,
Among the Ozyers and the wauing Flags
They neerly pry, if any dens there be,
Where from the Sun might harbour crueltie:
Or if they could the bones of any spy,
Or torne by beasts, or humane tyranny.
They close inquiry make in cauernes blinde,
Yet what they looke for would be death to finde.
Right as a curious man that would descrie
(Lead by the trembling hand of Iealousie),
If his faire wife haue wrong'd his bed or no,
Meeteth his torment if he finde her so.
One Eu'n, e're Phœbus (neere the golden shore
Of Tagus streame) his iourney gan giue o're;
They had ascended vp a woody hill,
(Where oft the Fauni with their Bugles shrill
Wakened the Eccho, and with many a shout
Follow'd the fearefull Deere the woods about,
Or through the Brakes that hide the craggy rockes,
Digd to the hole where lyes the wily Fox.)
Thence they beheld an vnder-lying Vale,
Where Flora set her rarest flowres at sale,
Whither the thriuing Bee came oft to sucke them,
And fairest Nymphes to decke their haire did plucke them.
Where oft the Goddesses did run at base,
And on white Harts begun the Wilde-goose-chase:
Here various Nature seem'd adorning this,
In imitation of the fields of blisse;
Or as she would intice the soules of men
To leaue Elizium, and liue here agen.
Not Hybla mountaine in the iocund prime
Vpon her many bushes of sweet Thyme
Shewes greater number of industrious Bees,
Then were the Birds that sung there on the trees.
Like the trim windings of a wanton Lake,
That doth his passage through a Meadow make,
Ran the delightfull Vally 'tweene two Hils:
From whose rare trees the precious Balme distils,
And hence Apollo had his simples good
That cur'd the Gods, hurt by the Earths ill brood.
A Crystall Riuer on her bosome slid,
And (passing) seem'd in sullen muttrings chid
The artlesse Songsters, that their Musicke still
Should charme the sweet Dale and the wistfull Hill:
Not suffering her shrill waters, as they run
Tun'd with a whistling gale in Vnison
To tell as high they priz'd the brodred Vale
As the quicke Lennet or sweet Nightingale.
Downe from a steepe Rocke came the water first,
(Where lusty Satyres often quench'd their thirst)
And with no little speed seem'd all in haste,
Till it the louely bottome had embrac'd:
Then as intranc'd to heare the sweet Birds sing,
In curled whirlpooles she her course doth bring,
As loth to leaue the songs that lull'd the Dale,
Or waiting time, when she and some soft gale
Should speake what true delight they did possesse
Among the rare flowres which the Vally dresse.
But since those quaint Musitians would not stay,
Nor suffer any to be heard but they:
Much like a little Lad who gotten new
To play his part amongst a skilfull crew
Of choise Musitians on some softer string
That is not heard, the others fingering
Drowning his Art, the Boy would gladly get
Applause with others that are of his Set,
And therefore strikes a stroke loud as the best,
And often descants when his fellowes rest;
That to be heard (as vsuall singers doe)
Spoiles his owne Musicke and his partners too:
So at the further end the waters fell
From off an high bancke downe a lowly Dell,
As they had vow'd, ere passing from that ground,
The Birds should be inforc'd to heare their sound.
No small delight the Shepherds tooke to see
A

Vally.

coombe so dight in Flora's liuery,
Where faire Feronia

According to that of Silius lib. 13. Punicor.—Itur in agros Diues vbi ante omnes colitur Feronia luco.

honour'd in the Woods,
And all the Deities that haunt the floods,
With powrefull Nature stroue to frame a plot,
Whose like the sweet Arcadia yeelded not.
Downe through the arched wood the Shepherds wend,
And seeke all places that might helpe their end,
When comming neere the bottome of the hill,
A deepe fetch'd sigh (which seem'd of power to kill
The brest that held it) pierc'd the listning wood,
Whereat the carefull Swaines no longer stood
Where they were looking on a tree, whose rinde
A Loue-knot held, which two ioyn'd hearts intwinde;
But searching round, vpon an aged root
Thicke linde with mosse which (though to little boot)
Seem'd as a shelter it had lending beene
Against cold Winters stormes and wreakfull teene:
Or clad the stocke in Summer with that hue
His withered branches not a long time knew:
For in his hollow truncke and perish'd graine
The Cuckow now had many a Winter laine,
And thriuing Pismires laid their egges in store:
The Dormouse slept there, and a many more.
Here sate the Lad, of whom I thinke of old
Virgils prophetique spirit had foretold,
Who whilst Dame Nature for her cunnings sake
A male or female doubted which to make,
And to adorne him more than all assaid
This pritty youth was almost made a Maid.
Sadly he sate, and (as would griefe) alone,
As if the Boy and Tree had beene but one,
Whilst downe neere boughs did drops of Amber creepe,
As if his sorrow made the trees to weepe.
If euer this were true in Ouids Verse
That teares haue powre an Adamant to pierce,
Or moue things void of sense, 'twas here approu'd:
Things, vegetatiue once, his teares haue mou'd.
Surely the stones might well be drawne in pitty
To burst that he should mone, as for a Ditty
To come and range themselues in order all,
And of their owne accord raise Thebes a wall.
Or else his teares (as did the others song)
Might haue th' attractiue power to moue the throng
Of all the Forrests Citizens and Woods,
With eu'ry Denizon of Ayre and Floods,
To sit by him and grieue: to leaue their iarres,
Their strifes, dissentions, and all ciuill warres;
And though else disagreeing, in this one
Mourning for him should make an Vnion.
For whom the heauens would weare a sable sute,
If men, beasts, fishes, birds, trees, stones were mute.
His eyes were fixed (rather fixed Starres)
With whom it seem'd his teares had beene in warres,
The diff'rence this (a hard thing to descry)
Whether the drops were clearest, or his eye.
Teares fearing conquest to the eye might fall,
An inundation brought and drowned all.
Yet like true Vertue from the top of State
(Whose hopes vile Enuie hath seene ruinate),
Being lowly cast, her goodnesse doth appeare
(Vncloath'd of greatnesse) more apparant cleere:
So though deiected, yet remain'd a feature,
Made sorrow sweet plac'd in so sweet a creature.
“The test of misery the truest is,
“In that none hath but what is surely his.
His armes a crosse, his sheepe-hooke lay beside him:
Had Venus pass'd this way, and chanc'd t'haue spide him,
With open brest, locks on his shoulders spred,
She would haue sworne (had she not seene him dead)
It was Adonis; or if e're there was
Held transmigration by Pithagoras
Of soules, that certaine then, her lost-loues spirit
A fairer body neuer could inherit.
His Pipe which often wont vpon the Plaine
To sound the Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian straine,
Lay from his Hooke and Bagge cleane cast apart,
And almost broken like his Masters heart.
Yet till the two kinde Shepherds neere him stept,
I finde he nothing spake but that he wept.
Cease gentle Lad (quoth Remond), let no teare
Cloud those sweet beauties in thy face appeare;
Why dost thou call on that which comes alone,
And will not leaue thee till thy selfe art gone?
Thou maist haue griefe, when other things are reft thee:
All else may slide away, this still is left thee;
And when thou wantest other company,
Sorrow will euer be embracing thee.
But fairest Swaine what cause hast thou of woe?
Thou hast a well-fleec'd flocke feed to and fro
(His sheepe along the Vally that time fed
Not farre from him, although vnfollowed).
What, doe thy Ewes abortiues bring? or Lambs
For want of milke seeke to their fellowes Dams?
No gryping Land-lord hath inclos'd thy walkes,
Nor toyling Plowman furrow'd them in balkes.
Ver hath adorn'd thy Pastures all in greene
With Clouer-grasse as fresh as may be seene:
Cleare gliding Springs refresh thy Meadowes heat,
Meads promise to thy charge their winter-meat,
And yet thou grieu'st. O! had some Swains thy store,
Their Pipes should tell the Woods they ask'd no more.
Or haue the Parcæ with vnpartiall knife
Left some friends body tenantlesse of life,
And thou bemoan'st that Fate in his youths morne
Ore-cast with clouds his light but newly borne?
“Count not how many yeares he is bereau'd,
“But those which he possest and had receiu'd;
“If I may tread no longer on this stage,
“Though others thinke me young; it is mine age:
“For who so hath his Fates full period told,
“He full of yeeres departs, and dyeth old.
May be that Auarice thy minde hath crost,
And so thy sighes are for some trifle lost.
Why shouldst thou hold that deare the world throwes on thee?
“Thinke nothing good which may be taken from thee.
Look as some pondrous weight or massie pack,
Laid to be carried on a Porters back,
Doth make his strong ioynts cracke, and forceth him
(Maugre the helpe of euery nerue and lim)
To straggle in his gate, and goeth double,
Bending to earth, such is his burdens trouble:
So any one by Auarice ingirt,
And prest with wealth, lyes groueling in the dirt.
His wretched minde bends to no point but this,
That who hath most of wealth hath most of blisse.
Hence comes the world to seeke such traffique forth
And passages through the congealed North,
Who when their haires with Isicles are hung,
And that their chatt'ring teeth confound their tongue,
Shew them a glitt'ring stone, will streightwaies say,
If paines thus prosper, oh, what fooles would play?
Yet I could tell them (as I now doe thee)
“In getting wealth we lose our libertie.
“Besides, it robs vs of our better powres,
“And we should be our selues, were these not ours.
“He is not poorest that hath least in store,
“But he which hath enough, yet asketh more:
“Nor is he rich by whom are all possest,
“But he which nothing hath, yet asketh least.
“If thou a life by Natures leading pitch,
“Thou neuer shalt be poore, nor euer rich
“Led by Opinion; for their states are such,
“Nature but little seekes, Opinion much.
Amongst the many buds proclaiming May,
(Decking the fields in holy-dayes aray,
Striuing who shall surpasse in brauery)
Marke the faire blooming of the Hawthorne-tree
Who, finely clothed in a robe of white,
Feeds full the wanton eye with May's delight;
Yet for the brauery that she is in
Doth neither handle Card nor Wheele to spin,
Nor changeth robes but twice: is neuer seene
In other colours then in white or greene.
Learne then content, young Shepherd, from this tree,
Whose greatest wealth is Natures liuery;
And richest ingots neuer toyle to finde,
Nor care for pouerty but of the minde,
This spoke young Remond: yet the mournfull Lad
Not once replyde; but with a smile, though sad,
He shooke his head, then crost his armes againe,
And from his eyes did showres of salt teares raine;
Which wrought so on the Swains, they could not smother
Their sighes, but spent them freely as the other.
Tell vs (quoth Doridon) thou fairer farre
Then

Hippolitus.

he whose chastity made him a Starre,
More fit to throw the wounding shafts of Loue,
Then follow sheepe, and pine here in a Groue.
O doe not hide thy sorrowes, shew them briefe;
“He oft findes ayde that doth disclose his griefe.
If thou wouldst it continue, thou dost wrong;
“No man can sorrow very much and long:
For thus much louing Nature hath dispos'd,
That 'mongst the woes that haue vs round inclos'd,
This comfort's left (and we should blesse her for't)
That we may make our griefes be borne, or short.
Beleeue me, Shepherd, we are men no lesse
Free from the killing throes of heauinesse
Then thou art here, and but this diff'rence sure,
That vse hath made vs apter to endure.
More he had spoke, but that a Bugle shrill
Rung through the Vally from the higher Hill,
And as they turn'd them tow'rds the hartning sound,
A gallant Stag, as if he scorn'd the ground,
Came running with the winde, and bore his head
As he had beene the King of forrests bred.
Not swifter comes the Messenger of Heauen,
Or winged vessell with a full gale driuen,
Nor the swift Swallow flying neere the ground,
By which the ayres distemp'rature is found:
Nor Mirrha's course, nor Daphne's speedy flight,
Shunning the daliance of the God of light,
Thus seem'd the Stag, that had no sooner crost them,
But in a trice their eyes as quickly lost him.
The weeping Swaine ne're mou'd, but as his eyes
Were onely giuen to shew his miseries,
Attended those; and could not once be won
To leaue that obiect whence his teares begun.
O had that

Phiton.

man, who (by a Tyrants hand)
Seeing his childrens bodies strew the sand,
And he next morne for torments prest to goe,
Yet from his eyes let no one small teare flow,
But being ask'd how well he bore their losse,
Like to a man affliction could not crosse,
He stoutly answer'd: Happier sure are they
Then I shall be by space of one short day.
No more his griefe was. But had he beene here,
He had beene flint, had he not spent a teare.
For still that man the perfecter is knowne,
Who others sorrowes feeles more then his owne.
Remond and Doridon were turning then
Vnto the most disconsolate of men,
But that a gallant Dame, faire as the morne
Or louely bloomes the Peach-tree that adorne,
Clad in a changing silke, whose lustre shone
Like yellow flowres and grasse farre off in one:
Or like the mixture Nature doth display
Vpon the quaint wings of the Popiniay,
Her horne about her necke with siluer tip,
Too hard a metall for so soft a lip:
Which it no oftner kist, then Ioue did frowne,
And in a mortals shape would faine come downe
To feed vpon those dainties, had not hee
Beene still kept back by Iuno's iealousie.
An Iuory dart she held of good command,
White was the bone, but whiter was her hand;
Of many peeces was it neatly fram'd,
But more the hearts were that her eyes inflam'd.
Vpon her head a greene light silken cap:
A peece of white Lawne shadow'd either pap,
Betweene which hillocks many Cupids lay,
Where with her necke or with her teats they play,
Whilst her quicke heart will not with them dispence,
But heaues her brests as it would beat them thence:
Who, fearing much to lose so sweet repaire,
Take faster hold by her disheuell'd haire.
Swiftly she ran; the sweet Bryers to receiue her
Slipt their embracements, and (as loth to leaue her)
Stretch'd themselues to their length; yet on she goes.
So great Diana frayes a heard of Roes
And speedy followes: Arethusa fled
So from the

Alpheus.

Riuer, that her rauished.
When this braue Huntresse neere the Shepherds drew.
Her Lilly arme in full extent she threw,
To plucke a little bough (to fan her face)
From off a thicke-leau'd Ash (no tree did grace
The low Groue as did this, the branches spred
Like Neptune's Trident vpwards from the head).
No sooner did the grieued Shepherd see
The Nimphs white hand extended tow'rds the tree,
But rose and to her ran, yet she had done
Ere he came neere, and to the wood was gone;
Yet now approach'd the bough the Huntresse tore,
He suckt it with his mouth, and kist it o're
A hundred times, and softly gan it binde
With Dock-leaues, and a slip of Willow rinde.
Then roūd the trunke he wreaths his weakned armes,
And with his scalding teares the smooth bark warms,
Sighing and groaning, that the Shepherds by
Forgot to helpe him, and lay downe to cry:
“For 'tis impossible a man should be
“Grieu'd to himselfe, or faile of company.
Much the two Swaines admir'd, but pitti'd more
That he no powre of words had, to deplore
Or shew what sad misfortune 'twas befell
To him, whom Nature (seem'd) regarded well.
As thus they lay, and while the speechlesse Swaine
His teares and sighes spent to the woods in vaine,
One like a wilde man ouer-growne with haire,
His nailes long growne, and all his body bare,
Saue that a wreath of Iuy twist did hide
Those parts which Nature would not haue discride,
And the long haire that curled from his head
A grassie garland rudely couered.
But Shepherds I haue wrong'd you, 'tis now late,
For see our Maid stands hollowing on yond gate,
'Tis supper-time, withall, and we had need
Make haste away, vnlesse we meane to speed
With those that kisse the Hares foot: Rhumes are bred,
Some say, by going supperlesse to bed,
And those I loue not; therefore cease my rime,
And put my Pipes vp till another time.