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 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.
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:
3
(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,
4
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.
| The Whole Works of William Browne | |