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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
Browne, William (1590- ca. 1645)

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THE FIRST VOLUME, THE SECOND VOLUME.
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Britannia's PASTORALS.
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The first Booke.
  
TO THE NO LESSE ENOBLED BY VERTVE, THEN ANCIENT In Nobilitie, the Right Honorable Edvvard Lord Zouch, Saint-Maure, and Cantelupe, and one of his Maiesties most Honourable Privie Covncell.
  
To the Reader.
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[Commendatory Verses.]
  
By the Same.
  
To his Friend the Avthor.
  
To his Ingenious and worthy Friend the Avthor.
  
On him; a Pastorall Ode to his fairest Shepheardesse.
  
To his Friend the Avthor vpon his Poem.
  
To his Friend the Author.
  
To the Avthor.
  
To the Avthor.
  
[Euterpe to her deerest Darling W. B.
  
Carmina amo, mihi Wille placet tua fistula: fælix! En re sonant laudes illa, vel illa tuas.
  
On the Author of Britannias Peerlesse Pastoralls.
  
On the Same.
  
On the Author of Britannias Peerlesse Pastoralls.
  
Uppon the occasion of Readinge this compleet Poem.
  
To the now unparelleled Sydney of his time, W. B., the ingenuous Author of Brittannia's Pastorals.
  
An Ode entreating him to proceed in the continuation of his Brittannias Pastorals.
  
To the Authour, W. B.
  
On the Author, W. B.
  
To the unparalleled Author of the sequent Poems, W. B.
  
Idem ad Eundem.
  
On the Author of Brittanias Matchlesse (though unfinisht) Pastorals.
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The First Song.
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The Second Song.
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The Third Song.
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The Fovrth Song.
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The Fifth Song.
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The second Booke.
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The third Booke.
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THE SHEPHEARDS PIPE.
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THE INNER TEMPLE MASQUE.
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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS

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On the Author of Britannias Peerlesse Pastoralls.

Cease skilfull Orpheus, whose mellifluous straynes
Have earst made stones and trees skip ore the playnes,
A sweeter harmonye invites our eares
Than ere was sent from the celestiall spheeres:
Cleare Tavy now his silver head may rayse,
A shephearde of his owne can singe his prayse.
Sweet toung'd Arion strive not with such odds,
Thy song moved but the dolphins: his the godds.
O hadst thou daignd to move thy sweeter toung,
The wolfe had stayd to hearken to thy songe;
Had Pans eares suckt the nectar of thy breath,
For thy sake Cælia had beene free from death,
But that the Fates denyde, as who should say
By Willys pen her fame shall live for aye:
Walla a garland will compose noe more,
To crowne her Tavyes temples as before;
But as to them that best deserve the prayse,
She'll give to thee the garland and the bayes,
And if a verse thy glorye may confine,
Thou sing'st Brittannias prayse, Brittannia thine.
Jo. Dynham, e Coll. Exon.
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