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 |  |
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.
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).
25
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.
| The Whole Works of William Browne | |