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 |  |
13
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.
| The Whole Works of William Browne | |