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 |  |
Alas that I haue done so great a wrong
Vnto the fairest Maiden of my Song,
Diuine Marina, who in Limos Caue
Lyes euer fearefull of a liuing graue,
And night and day vpon the hardned stones
Rests, if a rest can be amongst the mones
Of dying wretches; where each minute all
Stand still afraid to heare the Deaths-man call.
Thrice had the golden Sun his hot Steeds washt
In the West Maine, and thrice them smartly lasht
Out of the Baulmy East, since the sweet Maid
Had in that dismall Caue beene sadly laid.
Where hunger pinch'd her so, she need not stand
In feare of murdring by a second hand:
For through her tender sides such darts might passe
Gainst which strong wals of stone, thick gates of brasse
Deny no entrance, nor the Campes of Kings,
Since soonest there they bend their flaggy wings.
But heauen that stands still for the best's auaile,
Lendeth his hand when humane helpings faile;
For 'twere impossible that such as she
Should be forgotten of the Deitie;
Since in the spacious Orbe could no man finde
A fairer face match'd with a fairer minde.
A little Robin Red-brest, one cleare morne,
Sate sweetly singing on a well-leau'd Thorne:
Whereat Marina rose, and did admire
He durst approach from whence all else retire:
And pittying the sweet Bird what in her lay,
She fully stroue to fright him thence away.
Poore harmelesse wretch (quoth she) goe seeke some spring,
And to her sweet fall with thy fellowes sing;
Fly to the well-replenish'd Groues, and there
Doe entertaine each Swaines harmonious eare,
Trauerse the winding branches; chant so free,
That euery louer fall in loue with thee;
And if thou chance to see that louely Boy
(To looke on whom the Siluans count a ioy):
He whom I lou'd no sooner then I lost,
Whose body all the Graces hath ingrost,
To him vnfold (if that thou dar'st to be
So neare a neighbour to my Tragedie)
As farre as can thy voyce, (in plaints so sad,
And in so many mournefull accents clad,
That as thou sing'st vpon a tree there by
He may some small time weepe, yet know not why),
How I in death was his, though Powres diuine
Will not permit that he in life be mine.
Doe this, thou louing Bird; and haste away
Into the woods: but if so be thou stay
To doe a deed of charity on me,
When my pure soule shall leaue mortalitie,
By cou'ring this poore body with a sheet
Of greene leaues, gath'red from a vally sweet;
It is in vaine: these harmelesse lims must haue
Then in the Caitifes wombe no other graue.
Hence then, sweet Robin; lest in staying long
At once thou chance forgoe both life and song.
With this she husht him thence, he sung no more,
But (fraid the second time) flew tow'rds the shore.
Within as short time as the swiftest Swaine
Can to our May-pole run and come againe,
The little Redbrest to the prickled thorne
Return'd, and sung there as he had beforne:
And faire Marina to the loope-hole went,
Pittying the pretty Bird, whose punishment
Limos would not deferre if he were spide.
No sooner had the bird the Maiden eyde,
But leaping on the rocke, downe from a bough,
He takes a Cherry vp (which he but now
Had thither brought, and in that place had laid
Till to the cleft his song had drawne the Maid),
And flying with the small stem in his bill,
(A choiser fruit, then hangs on Bacchus hill)
In faire Marina's bosome tooke his rest,
A heauenly seat fit for so sweet a guest:
Where Citherea's Doues might billing sit,
And Gods and men with Enuie looke on it;
Where rose two mountaines, whose rare sweets to crop
Was harder then to reach Olympus top:
For those the Gods can; but to climbe these hils
Their powres no other were then mortall wils.
Here left the Bird the Cherry, and anone
Forsooke her bosome, and for more is gone,
Making such speedy flights into the Thicke,
That she admir'd he went and came so quicke.
Then lest his many Cherries should distast,
Some other fruit he brings then he brought last.
Sometime of Strawberries a little stem,
Oft changing colours as he gath'red them:
Some greene, some white, some red on them infus'd,
These lou'd, those fear'd, they blush'd to be so vs'd.
The Peascod greene oft with no little toyle
Hee'd seeke for in the fattest fertil'st soile,
And rend it from the stalke to bring it to her,
And in her bosome for acceptance wooe her.
No Berry in the Groue or Forrest grew,
That fit for nourishment the kinde Bird knew,
Nor any powrefull herbe in open field
To serue her brood the teeming earth did yeeld,
But with his vtmost industry he sought it,
And to the Caue for chaste Marina brought it.
So from one well-stor'd garden to another,
To gather Simples runs a carefull mother,
Whose onely childe lies on the shaking bed
Grip'd with a Feuer (sometime honoured
In Rome as if a God) nor is she bent
To other herbes then those for which she went.
The feathred houres fiue times were ouer-told,
And twice as many floods and ebbs had rold
The small sands out and in, since faire Marine
(For whose long losse a hundred Shepherds pine)
Was by the charitable Robin fed:
For whom (had she not so beene nourished)
A hundred Doues would search the Sun-burnt hils,
Or fruitfull Vallies lac'd with siluer rils,
To bring her Oliues. Th' Eagle strong of sight
To Countries farre remote would bend her flight,
And with vnwearied wing strip through the skie
To the choise plots of Gaule and Italy,
And neuer lin till home-ward she escape
With the Pomgranat, Lemmon, Oringe, Grape,
Or the lou'd Citron, and attain'd the Caue.
The well-plum'd Goshawke (by th' Egyptians graue
Vs'd in their mysticke Characters for speed)
Would not be wanting at so great a need,
But from the well-stor'd Orchards of the Land
Brought the sweet Peare (once by a cursed hand
At
Swinsted vs'd with poyson, for the fall
Of one who on these Plaines rul'd Lord of all.)
The sentfull Osprey by the Rocke had fish'd
And many a prettie Shrimp in Scallops dish'd,
Some way conuay'd her; no one of the shole
That haunt the waues, but from his lurking hole
Had pull'd the Cray-fish, and with much adoe
Brought that the Maid, and Perywinckles too.
But these for others might their labours spare,
And not with Robin for their merits share.
Yet as a Herdesse in a Summers day,
Heat with the glorious Suns all-purging ray,
In the calme Euening (leauing her faire flocke)
Betakes her selfe vnto a froth-girt Rocke,
On which the head-long Tauy throwes his waues,
(And foames to see the stones neglect his braues:)
Where sitting to vndoe her Buskins white,
And wash her neat legs, (as her vse each night)
Th' inamour'd flood, before she can vnlace them,
Rowles vp his waues as hast'ning to imbrace them,
And though to helpe them some small gale doe blow,
And one of twenty can but reach her so;
Yet will a many little surges be
Flashing vpon the rocke full busily,
And doe the best they can to kisse her feet,
But that their power and will not equall meet:
So as she for her Nurse look'd tow'rds the land,
(And now beholds the trees that grace the strand,
Then lookes vpon a hill whose sliding sides
A goodly flocke (like winters cou'ring) hides,
And higher on some stone that iutteth out,
Their carefull master guiding his trim rout
By sending forth his Dog (as Shepherds doe),
Or piping sate, or clowting of his shoe.)
Whence, nearer hand drawing her wandring sight
(So from the earth steales the all-quickning light)
Beneath the rocke, the waters high, but late,
(I know not by what sluce or empting gate)
Were at a low ebbe; on the sand she spies
A busie Bird that to and fro still flies,
Till pitching where a heatfull Oyster lay,
Opening his close iawes, (closer none then they
Vnlesse the griping fist, or cherry lips
Of happy Louers in their melting sips.)
Since the decreasing waues had left him there
Gaping for thirst, yet meets with nought but ayre,
And that so hot; ere the returning tyde,
He in his shell is likely to be fride;
The wary Bird a prittie pibble takes
And claps it twixt the two pearle-hiding flakes
Of the broad yawning Oyster, and she then
Securely pickes the fish out (as some men
A tricke of policie thrust tweene two friends,
Seuer their powres), and his intention ends.
The Bird thus getting that, for which she stroue,
Brought it to her: to whom the Queene of Loue
Seru'd as a foyle, and Cupid could no other,
But flie to her mistaken for his Mother.
Marina from the kinde Bird tooke the meat,
And (looking downe) she saw a number great
Of Birds, each one a pibble in his bill,
Would doe the like, but that they wanted skill:
Some threw it in too farre, and some too short;
This could not beare a stone fit for such sport,
But, harmelesse wretch, putting in one too small,
The Oyster shuts and takes his head withall.
Another bringing one too smooth and round,
(Vnhappy Bird that thine owne death hast found)
Layes it so little way in his hard lips,
That with their sodaine close, the pibble slips
So strongly forth (as when your little ones
Doe twixt their fingers slip their Cherry-stones),
That it in passage meets the brest or head
Of the poore wretch, and layes him there for dead.
A many striu'd, and gladly would haue done
As much or more then he which first begun,
But all in vaine: scarce one of twenty could
Performe the deed, which they full gladly would.
For this not quicke is to that act he go'th,
That wanteth skill, this cunning, and some both:
Yet none a will, for (from the caue) she sees
Not in all-louely May th' industrious Bees
More busie with the flowres could be, then these
Among the shell-fish of the working Seas.
Limos had all this while beene wanting thence,
And but iust heau'n preseru'd pure innocence
By the two Birds, her life to ayre had flit,
Ere the curst Caytife should haue forced it.
The first night that he left her in his den,
He got to shore, and neere th' abodes of men
That liue as we by tending of their flockes,
To enterchange for Ceres golden lockes,
Or with the Neat-herd for his milke and creame,
Things we respect more then the Diademe:
His choise made-dishes. O! the golden age
Met all contentment in no surplusage
Of dainty viands, but (as we doe still)
Dranke the pure water of the crystall rill,
Fed on no other meats then those they fed,
Labour the salad that their stomacks bred.
Nor sought they for the downe of siluer Swans,
Nor those Sow-thistle lockes each small gale fans,
But hydes of Beasts, which when they liu'd they kept,
Seru'd them for bed and cou'ring when they slept.
If any softer lay, 'twas (by the losse
Of some rocks warmth) on thicke and spungy mosse,
Or on the ground: some simple wall of clay
Parting their beds from where their cattle lay.
And on such pallats one man clipped then
More golden slumbers then this age agen.
That time Physitians thriu'd not: or, if any,
I dare say all: yet then were thrice as many
As now profess't, and more; for euery man
Was his owne Patient and Physitian.
None had a body then so weake and thin,
Bankrout of natures store, to feed the sinne
Of an insatiate female, in whose wombe
Could nature all hers past, and all to come
Infuse, with vertue of all drugs beside,
She might be tyr'd, but neuer satisfied.
To please which Orke her husbands weakned peece
Must haue his Cullis mixt with Amber-greece:
Phesant and Partridge into ielly turn'd,
Grated with gold, seuen times refin'd and burn'd
With dust of Orient Pearle, richer the East
Yet ne're beheld: (O Epicurian feast!)
This is his breakfast; and his meale at night
Possets no lesse prouoking appetite,
Whose deare ingredients valu'd are at more
Then all his Ancestors were worth before.
When such as we by poore and simple fare
More able liu'd, and di'd not without heire,
Sprung from our owne loines, and a spotlesse bed
Of any other powre vnseconded:
When th' others issue (like a man falne sicke,
Or through the Feuer, Gout, or Lunaticke,
Changing his Doctors oft, each as his notion
Prescribes a seu'rall dyet, seu'rall potion,
Meeting his friend (who meet we now adayes
That hath not some receit for each disease?)
He tels him of a plaister, which he takes;
And finding after that, his torment slakes,
(Whether because the humour is out-wrought,
Or by the skill which his Physitian brought,
It makes no matter:) for he surely thinkes
None of their purges nor their diet drinkes
Haue made him sound; but his beleefe is fast
That med'cine was his health which he tooke last.
So (by a mother) being taught to call
One for his Father, though a Sonne to all,
His mothers often scapes (though truly knowne)
Cannot diuert him; but will euer owne
For his begetter him, whose name and rents
He must inherit. Such are the descents
Of these men; to make vp whose limber heyre
As many as in him must haue a share;
When he that keepes the last yet least adoe,
Fathers the peoples childe, and gladly too.
Happier those times were, when the Flaxen clew
By faire Arachne's hand the Lydians knew,
And sought not to the worme for silken threds,
To rowle their bodies in, or dresse their heads.
When wise Minerua did th' Athenians learne
To draw their milke-white fleeces into yarne;
And knowing not the mixtures which began
(Of colours) from the Babylonian,
Nor wooll in Sardis dyde, more various knowne
By hues, then Iris to the world hath showne:
The bowels of our mother were not ript
For Mader-pits, nor the sweet meadowes stript
Of their choise beauties, nor for Ceres load
The fertile lands burd'ned with needlesse Woad.
Through the wide Seas no winged Pine did goe
To Lands vnknowne for staining Indico;
Nor men in scorching clymates moar'd their Keele
To traffique for the costly Coucheneele.
Vnknowne was then the Phrygian brodery,
The Tyrian purple, and the Scarlet dye,
Such as their sheepe clad, such they woue and wore,
Russet or white, or those mixt, and no more:
Except sometimes (to brauery inclinde)
They dide them yellow caps with Alder rinde.
The Græcian mantle, Tuscan robes of state,
Tissue, nor Cloth of gold of highest rate,
They neuer saw; onely in pleasant woods,
Or by th' embrodered margin of the floods,
The dainty Nymphs they often did behold
Clad in their light silke robes, stitcht oft with gold.
The Arras hangings round their comely Hals
Wanted the Cerites web and minerals:
Greene boughes of trees which fatning Acornes lade,
Hung full with flowres and Garlands quaintly made,
Their homely Cotes deck'd trim in low degree,
As now the Court with richest Tapistry.
In stead of Cushions wrought in windowes laine,
They pick'd the Cockle from their fields of Graine,
Sleepe-bringing Poppy, by the Plow-men late
Not without cause to Ceres consecrate,
For being round and full at his halfe birth
It signifi'd the perfect Orbe of earth;
And by his inequalities when blowne,
The earths low Vales and higher Hils were showne.
By multitude of graines it held within,
Of men and beasts the number noted bin;
And she since taking care all earth to please,
Had in her Thesmophoria offred these.
Or cause that seed our Elders vs'd to eat,
With honey mixt (and was their after meat)
Or since her Daughter that she lou'd so well
By him that in th' infernall shades doth dwell,
And on the Stygian bankes for euer raignes
(Troubled with horrid cries and noyse of chaines)
(Fairest Proserpina) was rapt away;
And she in plaints the night in teares the day
Had long time spent, when no high Power could giue her
Any redresse; the Poppy did releeue her:
For eating of the seeds they sleepe procur'd,
And so beguil'd those griefes she long endur'd.
Or rather since her Loue (then happy man)
Micon (ycleep'd) the braue Athenian,
Had beene transform'd into this gentle Flowre,
And his protection kept from Flora's powre.
The Daizy scattred on each Mead and Downe,
A golden tuft within a siluer Crowne:
(Faire fall that dainty flowre! and may there be
No Shepherd grac'd that doth not honour thee!)
The Primrose, when with six leaues gotten grace
Maids as a True-loue in their bosomes place:
The spotlesse Lilly, by whose pure leaues be
Noted the chaste thoughts of virginitie;
Carnations sweet with colour like the fire,
The fit Impresa's for imflam'd desire:
The Hare-bell for her stainlesse azur'd hue
Claimes to be worne of none but those are true:
The Rose, like ready youth, inticing stands,
And would be cropt if it might choose the hands.
The yealow King cup Flora them assign'd
To be the badges of a iealous minde;
The Oringe-tawny Marigold: the night
Hides not her colour from a searching sight.
To thee then, dearest Friend (my songs chiefe mate),
This colour chiefly I appropriate,
That spight of all the mists Obliuion can
Or enuious frettings of a guilty man,
Retain'st thy worth; nay, mak'st it more in prise,
Like Tennis-bals, throwne downe hard, highest rise.
The Columbine in tawny often taken,
Is then ascrib'd to such as are forsaken;
Flora's choise buttons of a russet dye
Is Hope euen in the depth of misery.
The Pansie, Thistle, all with prickles set,
The Cowslip, Honisuckle, Violet,
And many hundreds more that grac'd the Meads,
Gardens and Groues, (where beautious Flora treads)
Were by the Shepherds Daughters (as yet are
Vs'd in our Cotes) brought home with speciall care:
For bruising them they not alone would quell
But rot the rest, and spoile their pleasing smell.
Much like a Lad, who in his tender prime
Sent from his friends to learne the vse of time,
As are his mates or good or bad, so he
Thriues to the world, and such his actions be.
As in the Rainbowes many coloured hew,
Here see we watchet deepned with a blew:
There a darke tawnie with a purple mixt,
Yealow and flame, with streakes of greene betwixt,
A bloudy streame into a blushing run,
And ends still with the colour which begun;
Drawing the deeper to a lighter staine,
Bringing the lightest to the deep'st againe,
With such rare Art each mingleth with his fellow,
The blew with watchet, greene and red with yealow;
Like to the changes which we daily see
About the Doues necke with varietie,
Where none can say (though he it strict attends)
Here one begins, and there the other ends:
So did the Maidens with their various flowres
Decke vp their windowes, and make neat their bowres:
Vsing such cunning as they did dispose
The ruddy Piny with the lighter Rose,
The Moncks-hood with the Buglosse, and intwine
The white, the blew, the flesh-like Columbine
With Pinckes, Sweet-Williams: that farre off the eye
Could not the manner of their mixtures spye.
Then with those flowres they most of all did prise,
(With all their skill, and in most curious wise
On tufts of Hearbs and Rushes) would they frame
A dainty border round their Shepherds name.
Or Poesies make, so quaint, so apt, so rare,
As if the Muses onely liued there:
And that the after world should striue in vaine
What they then did, to counterfeit againe.
Nor will the Needle nor the Loome e're be
So perfect in their best embroderie,
Nor such composures make of silke and gold,
As theirs, when Nature all her cunning told.
The word of Mine did no man then bewitch,
They thought none could be fortunate if rich.
And to the couetous did wish no wrong
But what himselfe desir'd: to liue here long.
As of their Songs, so of their liues they deem'd:
Not of the long'st, but best perform'd, esteem'd.
They thought that heauen to him no life did giue,
Who onely thought vpon the meanes to liue.
Nor wish'd they 'twere ordain'd to liue here euer,
But as life was ordain'd they might perseuer.
O happy men! you euer did possesse
No wisedome but was mixt with simplenesse;
So wanting malice and from folly free,
Since reason went with your simplicitie,
You search'd your selues if all within were faire,
And did not learne of others what you were.
Your liues the patternes of those vertues gaue,
Which adulation tels men now they haue.
With pouerty in loue we onely close,
Because our Louers it most truely showes:
When they who in that blessed age did moue,
Knew neither pouerty, nor want of loue.
The hatred which they bore was onely this,
That euery one did hate to doe amisse.
Their fortune still was subiect to their will:
Their want (ô happy!) was the want of ill.
Ye truest, fairest, louelyest Nymphes that can
Out of your eyes lend fire Promethian,
All-beautious Ladies, loue-alluring Dames,
That on the banckes of Isca, Humber, Thames,
By your encouragement can make a Swaine
Climbe by his Song where none but soules attaine:
And by the gracefull reading of our lines
Renew our heat to further braue designes.
(You, by whose meanes my Muse thus boldly sayes:
Though she doe sing of Shepherds loues and layes,
And flagging weakly low gets not on wing
To second that of Hellens rauishing:
Nor hath the loue nor beauty of a Queene
My subiect grac'd, as other workes haue beene;
Yet not to doe their age nor ours a wrong,
Though Queenes, nay Goddesses fam'd Homers song):
Mine hath beene tun'd and heard by beauties more
Then all the Poets that haue liu'd before.
Not cause it is more worth, but it doth fall
That Nature now is turn'd a prodigall,
And on this age so much perfection spends,
That to her last of treasure it extends;
For all the ages that are slid away
Had not so many beauties as this day.
O what a rapture haue I gotten now!
That age of gold, this of the louely brow
Haue drawne me from my Song! I onward run
Cleane from the end to which I first begun.
But ye, the heauenly creatures of the West
In whom the vertues and the graces rest,
Pardon! that I haue run astray so long,
And grow so tedious in so rude a song,
If you your selues should come to adde one grace
Vnto a pleasant Groue or such like place,
Where here the curious cutting of a hedge:
There, by a pond, the trimming of the sedge:
Here the fine setting of well shading trees:
The walkes there mounting vp by small degrees,
The grauell and the greene so equall lye,
It, with the rest, drawes on your lingring eye:
Here the sweet smels that doe perfume the ayre,
Arising from the infinite repaire
Of odoriferous buds and herbs of price,
(As if it were another Paradice)
So please the smelling sense, that you are faine
Where last you walk'd to turne and walke againe.
There the small Birds with their harmonious notes
Sing to a Spring that smileth as she floats:
For in her face a many dimples show,
And often skips as it did dancing goe:
Here further downe an ouer-arched Alley
That from a hill goes winding in a valley,
You spie at end thereof a standing Lake,
Where some ingenious Artist striues to make
The water (brought in turning pipes of Lead
Through Birds of earth most liuely fashioned)
To counterfeit and mocke the Siluans all,
In singing well their owne set Madrigall.
This with no small delight retaines your eare,
And makes you think none blest but who liue there.
Then in another place the fruits that be
In gallant clusters decking each good tree,
Inuite your hand to crop some from the stem,
And liking one, taste euery sort of them:
Then to the arbours walke, then to the bowres,
Thence to the walkes againe, thence to the flowres,
Then to the Birds, and to the cleare spring thence,
Now pleasing one, and then another sense.
Here one walkes oft, and yet anew begin'th,
As if it were some hidden Labyrinth;
So loath to part, and so content to stay,
That when the Gardner knocks for you away,
It grieues you so to leaue the pleasures in it,
That you could wish that you had neuer seene it:
Blame me not then, if while to you I told
The happinesse our fathers clipt of old,
The meere imagination of their blisse
So rapt my thoughts, and made me sing amisse.
And still the more they ran on those dayes worth,
The more vnwilling was I to come forth.
O! if the apprehension ioy vs so,
What would the action in a humane show?
Such were the Shepherds (to all goodnesse bent)
About whose Thorps that night curs'd Limos went.
Where he had learn'd that next day all the Swaines,
That any sheepe fed on the fertill plaines,
That feast of Pales Goddesse of their grounds
Did meane to celebrate. Fitly this sounds,
He thought, to what he formerly intended,
His stealth should by their absence be befriended:
For whilst they in their offrings busied were,
He 'mongst the flocks might range with lesser feare.
How to contriue his stealth he spent the night.
The Morning now in colours richly dight
Stept o're the Easterne thresholds, and no lad
That ioy'd to see his pastures freshly clad,
But for the holy rites himselfe addrest
With necessaries proper to that feast.
The Altars euery where now smoaking be
With Beane-stalkes, Sauine, Laurell, Rosemary,
Their Cakes of Grummell-seed they did preferre,
And Pailes of milke in sacrifice to her.
Then Hymnes of praise they all deuoutly sung
In those Palilia for increase of young.
But ere the ceremonies were halfe past
One of their Boyes came downe the hill in haste,
And told them Limos was among their sheepe;
That he, his fellowes, nor their dogs could keepe
The Rau'ner from their flocks; great store were kild,
Whose blood he suck'd, and yet his panch not fild.
O hasten then away! for in an houre
He will the chiefest of your fold deuoure.
With this most ran (leauing behinde some few
To finish what was to faire Pales due),
And as they had ascended vp the hill,
Limos they met, with no meane pace and skill
Following a well-fed Lambe; with many a shout
They then pursu'd him all the plaine about.
And either with fore-laying of his way,
Or he full gorg'd ran not so swift as they,
Before he could recouer downe the strand,
No Swaine but on him had a fastned hand.
Reioycing then (the worst Wolfe to their flocke
Lay in their powres), they bound him to a Rocke
With chaines tane from the plow, and leauing him
Return'd backe to their Feast. His eyes late dim
Now sparkle forth in flames, he grindes his teeth,
And striues to catch at euery thing he seeth;
But to no purpose: all the hope of food
Was tane away; his little flesh, lesse bloud,
He suck'd and tore at last, and that denide,
With fearefull shrikes most miserably dyde.
Vnfortunate Marina, thou art free
From his iawes now, though not from misery.
Within the Caue thou likely art to pine,
If (ô may neuer) faile a helpe diuine,
And though such aid thy wants doe still supply,
Yet in a prison thou must euer lye.
But heau'n that fed thee, will not long defer
To send thee thither some deliuerer:
For then to spend thy sighes there to the maine
Thou fitter wert to honour Thetis traine:
Who so farre now with her harmonious crew
Scour'd through the Seas (ô who yet euer knew
So rare a consort?) she had left behinde
The Kentish, Sussex shores, the Isle assignde
To braue Vespasians conquest, and was come
Where the shrill Trumpet and the ratling Drum
Made the waues tremble (ere befell this chance)
And to no softer Musicke vs'd to dance.
Haile, thou my natiue soile! thou blessed plot
Whose equall all the world affordeth not!
Shew me who can so many crystall Rils,
Such sweet-cloath'd Vallies or aspiring Hils:
Such Wood-groūd, Pastures, Quarries, welthy Mines:
Such Rocks in whom the Diamond fairely shines:
And if the earth can shew the like agen,
Yet will she faile in her Sea-ruling men.
Time neuer can produce men to ore-take
The fames of Greenuil, Dauies, Gilbert, Drake,
Or worthy Hawkins, or of thousands more
That by their powre made the Deuonian shore
Mocke the proud Tagus; for whose richest spoyle
The boasting Spaniard left the Indian soyle
Banckrupt of store, knowing it would quit cost
By winning this, though all the rest were lost.
As oft the Sea-Nymphs on her strand haue set
Learning of Fisher-men to knit a net,
Wherein to winde vp their disheuel'd haires,
They haue beheld the frolicke Mariners
For exercise (got early from their beds)
Pitche bars of siluer, and cast golden sleds.
At Ex a louely Nymph with Thetis met:
She singing came, and was all round beset
With other watry powres, which by her song
She had allur'd to float with her along.
The Lay she chanted she had learn'd of yore,
Taught by a
skilfull Swaine, who on her shore
Fed his faire flocke: a worke renown'd as farre
As His braue subiect of the Troian warre.
To take the kinde ayre of a wistfull morne
Neere Tauies voicefull streame (to whom I owe
More straines then from my Pipe can euer flowe):
Here haue I heard a sweet Bird neuer lin
To chide the Riuer for his clam'rous din;
There seem'd another in his song to tell,
That what the faire streame did he liked well;
And going further heard another too,
All varying still in what the others doe;
A little thence, a fourth with little paine
Con'd all their lessons, and them sung againe;
So numberlesse the Songsters are that sing
In the sweet Groues of the too-carelesse Spring,
That I no sooner could the hearing lose
Of one of them, but straight another rose,
And perching deftly on a quaking spray,
Nye tyr'd her selfe to make her hearer stay,
Whilst in a bush two Nightingales together
Shew'd the best skill they had to draw me thither:
So (as bright Thetis past our cleeues along)
This shepherds lay pursu'd the others song,
And scarce one ended had his skilfull stripe,
But streight another tooke him to his Pipe.
By that the younger Swaine had fully done,
Thetis with her braue company had won
The mouth of Dert, and whilst the Tritons charme
The dancing waues, passing the crystall Arme
Sweet Yalme and Plim; ariu'd where Thamar payes
Her daily tribute to the westerne Seas.
Here sent she vp her Dolphins, and they plide
So busily their fares on euery side,
They made a quicke returne, and brought her downe
A many Homagers to Thamars crowne,
Who in themselues were of as great command
As any meaner Riuers of the Land.
With euery Nymph the Swaine of most account
That fed his white sheepe by her clearer fount:
And euery one to Thetis sweetly sung.
Among the rest a Shepherd (though but young,
Yet hartned to his Pipe) with all the skill
His few yeeres could, began to fit his quill.
By Tauies speedy streame he fed his flocke,
Where when he sate to sport him on a rocke,
The Water-nymphs would often come vnto him,
And for a dance with many gay gifts wooe him.
Now posies of this flowre, and then of that;
Now with fine shels, then with a rushie hat,
With Corrall or red stones brought from the deepe
To make him bracelets, or to marke his sheepe:
Willy he hight. Who by the Oceans Queene
More cheer'd to sing then such young Lads had beene,
Tooke his best framed Pipe, and thus gan moue
His voyce of Walla, Tauy's fairest Loue.
Vnto the fairest Maiden of my Song,
Diuine Marina, who in Limos Caue
Lyes euer fearefull of a liuing graue,
And night and day vpon the hardned stones
Rests, if a rest can be amongst the mones
Of dying wretches; where each minute all
Stand still afraid to heare the Deaths-man call.
Thrice had the golden Sun his hot Steeds washt
In the West Maine, and thrice them smartly lasht
Out of the Baulmy East, since the sweet Maid
Had in that dismall Caue beene sadly laid.
Where hunger pinch'd her so, she need not stand
In feare of murdring by a second hand:
For through her tender sides such darts might passe
Gainst which strong wals of stone, thick gates of brasse
27
Since soonest there they bend their flaggy wings.
But heauen that stands still for the best's auaile,
Lendeth his hand when humane helpings faile;
For 'twere impossible that such as she
Should be forgotten of the Deitie;
Since in the spacious Orbe could no man finde
A fairer face match'd with a fairer minde.
A little Robin Red-brest, one cleare morne,
Sate sweetly singing on a well-leau'd Thorne:
Whereat Marina rose, and did admire
He durst approach from whence all else retire:
And pittying the sweet Bird what in her lay,
She fully stroue to fright him thence away.
Poore harmelesse wretch (quoth she) goe seeke some spring,
And to her sweet fall with thy fellowes sing;
Fly to the well-replenish'd Groues, and there
Doe entertaine each Swaines harmonious eare,
Trauerse the winding branches; chant so free,
That euery louer fall in loue with thee;
And if thou chance to see that louely Boy
(To looke on whom the Siluans count a ioy):
He whom I lou'd no sooner then I lost,
Whose body all the Graces hath ingrost,
To him vnfold (if that thou dar'st to be
So neare a neighbour to my Tragedie)
As farre as can thy voyce, (in plaints so sad,
And in so many mournefull accents clad,
That as thou sing'st vpon a tree there by
He may some small time weepe, yet know not why),
How I in death was his, though Powres diuine
Will not permit that he in life be mine.
Doe this, thou louing Bird; and haste away
Into the woods: but if so be thou stay
To doe a deed of charity on me,
When my pure soule shall leaue mortalitie,
28
Of greene leaues, gath'red from a vally sweet;
It is in vaine: these harmelesse lims must haue
Then in the Caitifes wombe no other graue.
Hence then, sweet Robin; lest in staying long
At once thou chance forgoe both life and song.
With this she husht him thence, he sung no more,
But (fraid the second time) flew tow'rds the shore.
Within as short time as the swiftest Swaine
Can to our May-pole run and come againe,
The little Redbrest to the prickled thorne
Return'd, and sung there as he had beforne:
And faire Marina to the loope-hole went,
Pittying the pretty Bird, whose punishment
Limos would not deferre if he were spide.
No sooner had the bird the Maiden eyde,
But leaping on the rocke, downe from a bough,
He takes a Cherry vp (which he but now
Had thither brought, and in that place had laid
Till to the cleft his song had drawne the Maid),
And flying with the small stem in his bill,
(A choiser fruit, then hangs on Bacchus hill)
In faire Marina's bosome tooke his rest,
A heauenly seat fit for so sweet a guest:
Where Citherea's Doues might billing sit,
And Gods and men with Enuie looke on it;
Where rose two mountaines, whose rare sweets to crop
Was harder then to reach Olympus top:
For those the Gods can; but to climbe these hils
Their powres no other were then mortall wils.
Here left the Bird the Cherry, and anone
Forsooke her bosome, and for more is gone,
Making such speedy flights into the Thicke,
That she admir'd he went and came so quicke.
Then lest his many Cherries should distast,
Some other fruit he brings then he brought last.
29
Oft changing colours as he gath'red them:
Some greene, some white, some red on them infus'd,
These lou'd, those fear'd, they blush'd to be so vs'd.
The Peascod greene oft with no little toyle
Hee'd seeke for in the fattest fertil'st soile,
And rend it from the stalke to bring it to her,
And in her bosome for acceptance wooe her.
No Berry in the Groue or Forrest grew,
That fit for nourishment the kinde Bird knew,
Nor any powrefull herbe in open field
To serue her brood the teeming earth did yeeld,
But with his vtmost industry he sought it,
And to the Caue for chaste Marina brought it.
So from one well-stor'd garden to another,
To gather Simples runs a carefull mother,
Whose onely childe lies on the shaking bed
Grip'd with a Feuer (sometime honoured
In Rome as if a God) nor is she bent
To other herbes then those for which she went.
The feathred houres fiue times were ouer-told,
And twice as many floods and ebbs had rold
The small sands out and in, since faire Marine
(For whose long losse a hundred Shepherds pine)
Was by the charitable Robin fed:
For whom (had she not so beene nourished)
A hundred Doues would search the Sun-burnt hils,
Or fruitfull Vallies lac'd with siluer rils,
To bring her Oliues. Th' Eagle strong of sight
To Countries farre remote would bend her flight,
And with vnwearied wing strip through the skie
To the choise plots of Gaule and Italy,
And neuer lin till home-ward she escape
With the Pomgranat, Lemmon, Oringe, Grape,
Or the lou'd Citron, and attain'd the Caue.
The well-plum'd Goshawke (by th' Egyptians graue
30
Would not be wanting at so great a need,
But from the well-stor'd Orchards of the Land
Brought the sweet Peare (once by a cursed hand
At
One writes that K. Iohn was poison'd at Swinsted, with a dish of peares: Others, there, in a cup of wine: Some that he died at Newark of the Flux. A fourth by the distemperature of Peaches eaten in his fit of an Ague. Among so many doubts, I leaue you to beleeue the Author most in credit with our best of Antiquaries.
Of one who on these Plaines rul'd Lord of all.)
The sentfull Osprey by the Rocke had fish'd
And many a prettie Shrimp in Scallops dish'd,
Some way conuay'd her; no one of the shole
That haunt the waues, but from his lurking hole
Had pull'd the Cray-fish, and with much adoe
Brought that the Maid, and Perywinckles too.
But these for others might their labours spare,
And not with Robin for their merits share.
Yet as a Herdesse in a Summers day,
Heat with the glorious Suns all-purging ray,
In the calme Euening (leauing her faire flocke)
Betakes her selfe vnto a froth-girt Rocke,
On which the head-long Tauy throwes his waues,
(And foames to see the stones neglect his braues:)
Where sitting to vndoe her Buskins white,
And wash her neat legs, (as her vse each night)
Th' inamour'd flood, before she can vnlace them,
Rowles vp his waues as hast'ning to imbrace them,
And though to helpe them some small gale doe blow,
And one of twenty can but reach her so;
Yet will a many little surges be
Flashing vpon the rocke full busily,
And doe the best they can to kisse her feet,
But that their power and will not equall meet:
So as she for her Nurse look'd tow'rds the land,
(And now beholds the trees that grace the strand,
Then lookes vpon a hill whose sliding sides
A goodly flocke (like winters cou'ring) hides,
And higher on some stone that iutteth out,
Their carefull master guiding his trim rout
31
Or piping sate, or clowting of his shoe.)
Whence, nearer hand drawing her wandring sight
(So from the earth steales the all-quickning light)
Beneath the rocke, the waters high, but late,
(I know not by what sluce or empting gate)
Were at a low ebbe; on the sand she spies
A busie Bird that to and fro still flies,
Till pitching where a heatfull Oyster lay,
Opening his close iawes, (closer none then they
Vnlesse the griping fist, or cherry lips
Of happy Louers in their melting sips.)
Since the decreasing waues had left him there
Gaping for thirst, yet meets with nought but ayre,
And that so hot; ere the returning tyde,
He in his shell is likely to be fride;
The wary Bird a prittie pibble takes
And claps it twixt the two pearle-hiding flakes
Of the broad yawning Oyster, and she then
Securely pickes the fish out (as some men
A tricke of policie thrust tweene two friends,
Seuer their powres), and his intention ends.
The Bird thus getting that, for which she stroue,
Brought it to her: to whom the Queene of Loue
Seru'd as a foyle, and Cupid could no other,
But flie to her mistaken for his Mother.
Marina from the kinde Bird tooke the meat,
And (looking downe) she saw a number great
Of Birds, each one a pibble in his bill,
Would doe the like, but that they wanted skill:
Some threw it in too farre, and some too short;
This could not beare a stone fit for such sport,
But, harmelesse wretch, putting in one too small,
The Oyster shuts and takes his head withall.
Another bringing one too smooth and round,
(Vnhappy Bird that thine owne death hast found)
32
That with their sodaine close, the pibble slips
So strongly forth (as when your little ones
Doe twixt their fingers slip their Cherry-stones),
That it in passage meets the brest or head
Of the poore wretch, and layes him there for dead.
A many striu'd, and gladly would haue done
As much or more then he which first begun,
But all in vaine: scarce one of twenty could
Performe the deed, which they full gladly would.
For this not quicke is to that act he go'th,
That wanteth skill, this cunning, and some both:
Yet none a will, for (from the caue) she sees
Not in all-louely May th' industrious Bees
More busie with the flowres could be, then these
Among the shell-fish of the working Seas.
Limos had all this while beene wanting thence,
And but iust heau'n preseru'd pure innocence
By the two Birds, her life to ayre had flit,
Ere the curst Caytife should haue forced it.
The first night that he left her in his den,
He got to shore, and neere th' abodes of men
That liue as we by tending of their flockes,
To enterchange for Ceres golden lockes,
Or with the Neat-herd for his milke and creame,
Things we respect more then the Diademe:
His choise made-dishes. O! the golden age
Met all contentment in no surplusage
Of dainty viands, but (as we doe still)
Dranke the pure water of the crystall rill,
Fed on no other meats then those they fed,
Labour the salad that their stomacks bred.
Nor sought they for the downe of siluer Swans,
Nor those Sow-thistle lockes each small gale fans,
But hydes of Beasts, which when they liu'd they kept,
Seru'd them for bed and cou'ring when they slept.
33
Of some rocks warmth) on thicke and spungy mosse,
Or on the ground: some simple wall of clay
Parting their beds from where their cattle lay.
And on such pallats one man clipped then
More golden slumbers then this age agen.
That time Physitians thriu'd not: or, if any,
I dare say all: yet then were thrice as many
As now profess't, and more; for euery man
Was his owne Patient and Physitian.
None had a body then so weake and thin,
Bankrout of natures store, to feed the sinne
Of an insatiate female, in whose wombe
Could nature all hers past, and all to come
Infuse, with vertue of all drugs beside,
She might be tyr'd, but neuer satisfied.
To please which Orke her husbands weakned peece
Must haue his Cullis mixt with Amber-greece:
Phesant and Partridge into ielly turn'd,
Grated with gold, seuen times refin'd and burn'd
With dust of Orient Pearle, richer the East
Yet ne're beheld: (O Epicurian feast!)
This is his breakfast; and his meale at night
Possets no lesse prouoking appetite,
Whose deare ingredients valu'd are at more
Then all his Ancestors were worth before.
When such as we by poore and simple fare
More able liu'd, and di'd not without heire,
Sprung from our owne loines, and a spotlesse bed
Of any other powre vnseconded:
When th' others issue (like a man falne sicke,
Or through the Feuer, Gout, or Lunaticke,
Changing his Doctors oft, each as his notion
Prescribes a seu'rall dyet, seu'rall potion,
Meeting his friend (who meet we now adayes
That hath not some receit for each disease?)
34
And finding after that, his torment slakes,
(Whether because the humour is out-wrought,
Or by the skill which his Physitian brought,
It makes no matter:) for he surely thinkes
None of their purges nor their diet drinkes
Haue made him sound; but his beleefe is fast
That med'cine was his health which he tooke last.
So (by a mother) being taught to call
One for his Father, though a Sonne to all,
His mothers often scapes (though truly knowne)
Cannot diuert him; but will euer owne
For his begetter him, whose name and rents
He must inherit. Such are the descents
Of these men; to make vp whose limber heyre
As many as in him must haue a share;
When he that keepes the last yet least adoe,
Fathers the peoples childe, and gladly too.
Happier those times were, when the Flaxen clew
By faire Arachne's hand the Lydians knew,
And sought not to the worme for silken threds,
To rowle their bodies in, or dresse their heads.
When wise Minerua did th' Athenians learne
To draw their milke-white fleeces into yarne;
And knowing not the mixtures which began
(Of colours) from the Babylonian,
Nor wooll in Sardis dyde, more various knowne
By hues, then Iris to the world hath showne:
The bowels of our mother were not ript
For Mader-pits, nor the sweet meadowes stript
Of their choise beauties, nor for Ceres load
The fertile lands burd'ned with needlesse Woad.
Through the wide Seas no winged Pine did goe
To Lands vnknowne for staining Indico;
Nor men in scorching clymates moar'd their Keele
To traffique for the costly Coucheneele.
35
The Tyrian purple, and the Scarlet dye,
Such as their sheepe clad, such they woue and wore,
Russet or white, or those mixt, and no more:
Except sometimes (to brauery inclinde)
They dide them yellow caps with Alder rinde.
The Græcian mantle, Tuscan robes of state,
Tissue, nor Cloth of gold of highest rate,
They neuer saw; onely in pleasant woods,
Or by th' embrodered margin of the floods,
The dainty Nymphs they often did behold
Clad in their light silke robes, stitcht oft with gold.
The Arras hangings round their comely Hals
Wanted the Cerites web and minerals:
Greene boughes of trees which fatning Acornes lade,
Hung full with flowres and Garlands quaintly made,
Their homely Cotes deck'd trim in low degree,
As now the Court with richest Tapistry.
In stead of Cushions wrought in windowes laine,
They pick'd the Cockle from their fields of Graine,
Sleepe-bringing Poppy, by the Plow-men late
Not without cause to Ceres consecrate,
For being round and full at his halfe birth
It signifi'd the perfect Orbe of earth;
And by his inequalities when blowne,
The earths low Vales and higher Hils were showne.
By multitude of graines it held within,
Of men and beasts the number noted bin;
And she since taking care all earth to please,
Had in her Thesmophoria offred these.
Or cause that seed our Elders vs'd to eat,
With honey mixt (and was their after meat)
Or since her Daughter that she lou'd so well
By him that in th' infernall shades doth dwell,
And on the Stygian bankes for euer raignes
(Troubled with horrid cries and noyse of chaines)
36
And she in plaints the night in teares the day
Had long time spent, when no high Power could giue her
Any redresse; the Poppy did releeue her:
For eating of the seeds they sleepe procur'd,
And so beguil'd those griefes she long endur'd.
Or rather since her Loue (then happy man)
Micon (ycleep'd) the braue Athenian,
Had beene transform'd into this gentle Flowre,
And his protection kept from Flora's powre.
The Daizy scattred on each Mead and Downe,
A golden tuft within a siluer Crowne:
(Faire fall that dainty flowre! and may there be
No Shepherd grac'd that doth not honour thee!)
The Primrose, when with six leaues gotten grace
Maids as a True-loue in their bosomes place:
The spotlesse Lilly, by whose pure leaues be
Noted the chaste thoughts of virginitie;
Carnations sweet with colour like the fire,
The fit Impresa's for imflam'd desire:
The Hare-bell for her stainlesse azur'd hue
Claimes to be worne of none but those are true:
The Rose, like ready youth, inticing stands,
And would be cropt if it might choose the hands.
The yealow King cup Flora them assign'd
To be the badges of a iealous minde;
The Oringe-tawny Marigold: the night
Hides not her colour from a searching sight.
To thee then, dearest Friend (my songs chiefe mate),
This colour chiefly I appropriate,
That spight of all the mists Obliuion can
Or enuious frettings of a guilty man,
Retain'st thy worth; nay, mak'st it more in prise,
Like Tennis-bals, throwne downe hard, highest rise.
The Columbine in tawny often taken,
37
Flora's choise buttons of a russet dye
Is Hope euen in the depth of misery.
The Pansie, Thistle, all with prickles set,
The Cowslip, Honisuckle, Violet,
And many hundreds more that grac'd the Meads,
Gardens and Groues, (where beautious Flora treads)
Were by the Shepherds Daughters (as yet are
Vs'd in our Cotes) brought home with speciall care:
For bruising them they not alone would quell
But rot the rest, and spoile their pleasing smell.
Much like a Lad, who in his tender prime
Sent from his friends to learne the vse of time,
As are his mates or good or bad, so he
Thriues to the world, and such his actions be.
As in the Rainbowes many coloured hew,
Here see we watchet deepned with a blew:
There a darke tawnie with a purple mixt,
Yealow and flame, with streakes of greene betwixt,
A bloudy streame into a blushing run,
And ends still with the colour which begun;
Drawing the deeper to a lighter staine,
Bringing the lightest to the deep'st againe,
With such rare Art each mingleth with his fellow,
The blew with watchet, greene and red with yealow;
Like to the changes which we daily see
About the Doues necke with varietie,
Where none can say (though he it strict attends)
Here one begins, and there the other ends:
So did the Maidens with their various flowres
Decke vp their windowes, and make neat their bowres:
Vsing such cunning as they did dispose
The ruddy Piny with the lighter Rose,
The Moncks-hood with the Buglosse, and intwine
The white, the blew, the flesh-like Columbine
With Pinckes, Sweet-Williams: that farre off the eye
38
Then with those flowres they most of all did prise,
(With all their skill, and in most curious wise
On tufts of Hearbs and Rushes) would they frame
A dainty border round their Shepherds name.
Or Poesies make, so quaint, so apt, so rare,
As if the Muses onely liued there:
And that the after world should striue in vaine
What they then did, to counterfeit againe.
Nor will the Needle nor the Loome e're be
So perfect in their best embroderie,
Nor such composures make of silke and gold,
As theirs, when Nature all her cunning told.
The word of Mine did no man then bewitch,
They thought none could be fortunate if rich.
And to the couetous did wish no wrong
But what himselfe desir'd: to liue here long.
As of their Songs, so of their liues they deem'd:
Not of the long'st, but best perform'd, esteem'd.
They thought that heauen to him no life did giue,
Who onely thought vpon the meanes to liue.
Nor wish'd they 'twere ordain'd to liue here euer,
But as life was ordain'd they might perseuer.
O happy men! you euer did possesse
No wisedome but was mixt with simplenesse;
So wanting malice and from folly free,
Since reason went with your simplicitie,
You search'd your selues if all within were faire,
And did not learne of others what you were.
Your liues the patternes of those vertues gaue,
Which adulation tels men now they haue.
With pouerty in loue we onely close,
Because our Louers it most truely showes:
When they who in that blessed age did moue,
Knew neither pouerty, nor want of loue.
The hatred which they bore was onely this,
39
Their fortune still was subiect to their will:
Their want (ô happy!) was the want of ill.
Ye truest, fairest, louelyest Nymphes that can
Out of your eyes lend fire Promethian,
All-beautious Ladies, loue-alluring Dames,
That on the banckes of Isca, Humber, Thames,
By your encouragement can make a Swaine
Climbe by his Song where none but soules attaine:
And by the gracefull reading of our lines
Renew our heat to further braue designes.
(You, by whose meanes my Muse thus boldly sayes:
Though she doe sing of Shepherds loues and layes,
And flagging weakly low gets not on wing
To second that of Hellens rauishing:
Nor hath the loue nor beauty of a Queene
My subiect grac'd, as other workes haue beene;
Yet not to doe their age nor ours a wrong,
Though Queenes, nay Goddesses fam'd Homers song):
Mine hath beene tun'd and heard by beauties more
Then all the Poets that haue liu'd before.
Not cause it is more worth, but it doth fall
That Nature now is turn'd a prodigall,
And on this age so much perfection spends,
That to her last of treasure it extends;
For all the ages that are slid away
Had not so many beauties as this day.
O what a rapture haue I gotten now!
That age of gold, this of the louely brow
Haue drawne me from my Song! I onward run
Cleane from the end to which I first begun.
But ye, the heauenly creatures of the West
In whom the vertues and the graces rest,
Pardon! that I haue run astray so long,
And grow so tedious in so rude a song,
If you your selues should come to adde one grace
40
Where here the curious cutting of a hedge:
There, by a pond, the trimming of the sedge:
Here the fine setting of well shading trees:
The walkes there mounting vp by small degrees,
The grauell and the greene so equall lye,
It, with the rest, drawes on your lingring eye:
Here the sweet smels that doe perfume the ayre,
Arising from the infinite repaire
Of odoriferous buds and herbs of price,
(As if it were another Paradice)
So please the smelling sense, that you are faine
Where last you walk'd to turne and walke againe.
There the small Birds with their harmonious notes
Sing to a Spring that smileth as she floats:
For in her face a many dimples show,
And often skips as it did dancing goe:
Here further downe an ouer-arched Alley
That from a hill goes winding in a valley,
You spie at end thereof a standing Lake,
Where some ingenious Artist striues to make
The water (brought in turning pipes of Lead
Through Birds of earth most liuely fashioned)
To counterfeit and mocke the Siluans all,
In singing well their owne set Madrigall.
This with no small delight retaines your eare,
And makes you think none blest but who liue there.
Then in another place the fruits that be
In gallant clusters decking each good tree,
Inuite your hand to crop some from the stem,
And liking one, taste euery sort of them:
Then to the arbours walke, then to the bowres,
Thence to the walkes againe, thence to the flowres,
Then to the Birds, and to the cleare spring thence,
Now pleasing one, and then another sense.
Here one walkes oft, and yet anew begin'th,
41
So loath to part, and so content to stay,
That when the Gardner knocks for you away,
It grieues you so to leaue the pleasures in it,
That you could wish that you had neuer seene it:
Blame me not then, if while to you I told
The happinesse our fathers clipt of old,
The meere imagination of their blisse
So rapt my thoughts, and made me sing amisse.
And still the more they ran on those dayes worth,
The more vnwilling was I to come forth.
O! if the apprehension ioy vs so,
What would the action in a humane show?
Such were the Shepherds (to all goodnesse bent)
About whose Thorps that night curs'd Limos went.
Where he had learn'd that next day all the Swaines,
That any sheepe fed on the fertill plaines,
That feast of Pales Goddesse of their grounds
Did meane to celebrate. Fitly this sounds,
He thought, to what he formerly intended,
His stealth should by their absence be befriended:
For whilst they in their offrings busied were,
He 'mongst the flocks might range with lesser feare.
How to contriue his stealth he spent the night.
The Morning now in colours richly dight
Stept o're the Easterne thresholds, and no lad
That ioy'd to see his pastures freshly clad,
But for the holy rites himselfe addrest
With necessaries proper to that feast.
The Altars euery where now smoaking be
With Beane-stalkes, Sauine, Laurell, Rosemary,
Their Cakes of Grummell-seed they did preferre,
And Pailes of milke in sacrifice to her.
Then Hymnes of praise they all deuoutly sung
In those Palilia for increase of young.
But ere the ceremonies were halfe past
42
And told them Limos was among their sheepe;
That he, his fellowes, nor their dogs could keepe
The Rau'ner from their flocks; great store were kild,
Whose blood he suck'd, and yet his panch not fild.
O hasten then away! for in an houre
He will the chiefest of your fold deuoure.
With this most ran (leauing behinde some few
To finish what was to faire Pales due),
And as they had ascended vp the hill,
Limos they met, with no meane pace and skill
Following a well-fed Lambe; with many a shout
They then pursu'd him all the plaine about.
And either with fore-laying of his way,
Or he full gorg'd ran not so swift as they,
Before he could recouer downe the strand,
No Swaine but on him had a fastned hand.
Reioycing then (the worst Wolfe to their flocke
Lay in their powres), they bound him to a Rocke
With chaines tane from the plow, and leauing him
Return'd backe to their Feast. His eyes late dim
Now sparkle forth in flames, he grindes his teeth,
And striues to catch at euery thing he seeth;
But to no purpose: all the hope of food
Was tane away; his little flesh, lesse bloud,
He suck'd and tore at last, and that denide,
With fearefull shrikes most miserably dyde.
Vnfortunate Marina, thou art free
From his iawes now, though not from misery.
Within the Caue thou likely art to pine,
If (ô may neuer) faile a helpe diuine,
And though such aid thy wants doe still supply,
Yet in a prison thou must euer lye.
But heau'n that fed thee, will not long defer
To send thee thither some deliuerer:
For then to spend thy sighes there to the maine
43
Who so farre now with her harmonious crew
Scour'd through the Seas (ô who yet euer knew
So rare a consort?) she had left behinde
The Kentish, Sussex shores, the Isle assignde
To braue Vespasians conquest, and was come
Where the shrill Trumpet and the ratling Drum
Made the waues tremble (ere befell this chance)
And to no softer Musicke vs'd to dance.
Haile, thou my natiue soile! thou blessed plot
Whose equall all the world affordeth not!
Shew me who can so many crystall Rils,
Such sweet-cloath'd Vallies or aspiring Hils:
Such Wood-groūd, Pastures, Quarries, welthy Mines:
Such Rocks in whom the Diamond fairely shines:
And if the earth can shew the like agen,
Yet will she faile in her Sea-ruling men.
Time neuer can produce men to ore-take
The fames of Greenuil, Dauies, Gilbert, Drake,
Or worthy Hawkins, or of thousands more
That by their powre made the Deuonian shore
Mocke the proud Tagus; for whose richest spoyle
The boasting Spaniard left the Indian soyle
Banckrupt of store, knowing it would quit cost
By winning this, though all the rest were lost.
As oft the Sea-Nymphs on her strand haue set
Learning of Fisher-men to knit a net,
Wherein to winde vp their disheuel'd haires,
They haue beheld the frolicke Mariners
For exercise (got early from their beds)
Pitche bars of siluer, and cast golden sleds.
At Ex a louely Nymph with Thetis met:
She singing came, and was all round beset
With other watry powres, which by her song
She had allur'd to float with her along.
The Lay she chanted she had learn'd of yore,
44
Fed his faire flocke: a worke renown'd as farre
As His braue subiect of the Troian warre.
When she had done, a prettie Shepherds boy
That from the neare Downs came (though he smal ioy
Tooke in his tunefull Reed, since dire neglect
Crept to the brest of her he did affect,
And that an euer-busie-watchfull eye
Stood as a barre to his felicitie,)
Being with great intreaties of the Swaines,
And by the faire Queene of the liquid plaines
Woo'd to his Pipe, and bade to lay aside
All troubled thoughts, as others at that tyde,
And that he now some merry note should raise,
To equall others which had sung their laies:
He shooke his head, and knowing that his tongue
Could not belye his heart, thus sadly sung:
The fitting accent of His mournfull lay
So pleas'd the pow'rfull Lady of the Sea,
That she intreated him to sing againe;
And he obeying tun'd this second straine:
As (woo'd by Mayes delights) I haue beene borne
That from the neare Downs came (though he smal ioy
Tooke in his tunefull Reed, since dire neglect
Crept to the brest of her he did affect,
And that an euer-busie-watchfull eye
Stood as a barre to his felicitie,)
Being with great intreaties of the Swaines,
And by the faire Queene of the liquid plaines
Woo'd to his Pipe, and bade to lay aside
All troubled thoughts, as others at that tyde,
And that he now some merry note should raise,
To equall others which had sung their laies:
He shooke his head, and knowing that his tongue
Could not belye his heart, thus sadly sung:
As
new-borne babes salute their ages morne
With cries vnto their wofull mother hurld:
My infant Muse that was but lately borne
Began with watry eyes to wooe the world.
She knowes not how to speake, and therefore weepes
Her woes excesse,
And striues to moue the heart that senslesse sleepes,
To heauinesse;
Her eyes inuail'd with sorrowes clouds
Scarce see the light,
Disdaine hath wrapt her in the shrowds
Of loathed night.
How should she moue then her grief-laden wing,
Or leaue my sad complaints, and Pæans sing?
Six Pleyads liue in light, in darknesse one.
Sing mirthfull Swaines, but let me sigh alone.
With cries vnto their wofull mother hurld:
My infant Muse that was but lately borne
Began with watry eyes to wooe the world.
She knowes not how to speake, and therefore weepes
Her woes excesse,
And striues to moue the heart that senslesse sleepes,
To heauinesse;
Her eyes inuail'd with sorrowes clouds
Scarce see the light,
Disdaine hath wrapt her in the shrowds
Of loathed night.
How should she moue then her grief-laden wing,
Or leaue my sad complaints, and Pæans sing?
Six Pleyads liue in light, in darknesse one.
Sing mirthfull Swaines, but let me sigh alone.
It is enough that I in silence sit,
And bend my skill to learne your laies aright;
Nor striue with you in ready straines of wit,
Nor moue my hearers with so true delight.
But if for heauy plaints and notes of woe
Your eares are prest;
No Shepherd liues that can my Pipe out-goe
In such vnrest.
I haue not knowne so many yeeres
As chances wrong,
Nor haue they knowne more floods of teares
From one so yong.
Faine would I tune to please as others doe,
Wert not for faining Song and numbers too.
Then (since not fitting now are songs of mone)
Sing mirthfull Swaines, but let me sigh alone.
45
Nor striue with you in ready straines of wit,
Nor moue my hearers with so true delight.
But if for heauy plaints and notes of woe
Your eares are prest;
No Shepherd liues that can my Pipe out-goe
In such vnrest.
I haue not knowne so many yeeres
As chances wrong,
Nor haue they knowne more floods of teares
From one so yong.
Faine would I tune to please as others doe,
Wert not for faining Song and numbers too.
Then (since not fitting now are songs of mone)
Sing mirthfull Swaines, but let me sigh alone.
The Nymphs that float vpon these watry plaines
Haue oft beene drawne to listen to my Song,
And Sirens left to tune dissembling straines
In true bewailing of my sorrowes long.
Vpon the waues of late a siluer Swan
By me did ride;
And thrilled with my woes forthwith began
To sing, and dide.
Yet where they should, they cannot moue.
O haplesse Verse!
That fitter then to win a Loue
Art for a Herse.
Hence-forward silent be; and ye my cares
Be knowne but to my selfe, or who despaires;
Since pittie now lyes turned to a stone.
Sing mirthfull Swaines; but let me sigh alone.
Haue oft beene drawne to listen to my Song,
And Sirens left to tune dissembling straines
In true bewailing of my sorrowes long.
Vpon the waues of late a siluer Swan
By me did ride;
And thrilled with my woes forthwith began
To sing, and dide.
Yet where they should, they cannot moue.
O haplesse Verse!
That fitter then to win a Loue
Art for a Herse.
Hence-forward silent be; and ye my cares
Be knowne but to my selfe, or who despaires;
Since pittie now lyes turned to a stone.
Sing mirthfull Swaines; but let me sigh alone.
So pleas'd the pow'rfull Lady of the Sea,
That she intreated him to sing againe;
And he obeying tun'd this second straine:
46
Borne
to no other comfort then my teares,
Yet rob'd of them by griefes too inly deepe,
I cannot rightly waile my haplesse yeeres,
Nor moue a passion that for me might weepe.
Nature alas too short hath knit
My tongue to reach my woe:
Nor haue I skill sad notes to fit
That might my sorrow show.
And to increase my torments ceaselesse sting,
There's no way left to shew my paines,
But by my pen in mournfull straines,
Which others may perhaps take ioy to sing.
Yet rob'd of them by griefes too inly deepe,
I cannot rightly waile my haplesse yeeres,
Nor moue a passion that for me might weepe.
Nature alas too short hath knit
My tongue to reach my woe:
Nor haue I skill sad notes to fit
That might my sorrow show.
And to increase my torments ceaselesse sting,
There's no way left to shew my paines,
But by my pen in mournfull straines,
Which others may perhaps take ioy to sing.
To take the kinde ayre of a wistfull morne
Neere Tauies voicefull streame (to whom I owe
More straines then from my Pipe can euer flowe):
Here haue I heard a sweet Bird neuer lin
To chide the Riuer for his clam'rous din;
There seem'd another in his song to tell,
That what the faire streame did he liked well;
And going further heard another too,
All varying still in what the others doe;
A little thence, a fourth with little paine
Con'd all their lessons, and them sung againe;
So numberlesse the Songsters are that sing
In the sweet Groues of the too-carelesse Spring,
That I no sooner could the hearing lose
Of one of them, but straight another rose,
And perching deftly on a quaking spray,
Nye tyr'd her selfe to make her hearer stay,
Whilst in a bush two Nightingales together
Shew'd the best skill they had to draw me thither:
So (as bright Thetis past our cleeues along)
This shepherds lay pursu'd the others song,
And scarce one ended had his skilfull stripe,
47
By that the younger Swaine had fully done,
Thetis with her braue company had won
The mouth of Dert, and whilst the Tritons charme
The dancing waues, passing the crystall Arme
Sweet Yalme and Plim; ariu'd where Thamar payes
Her daily tribute to the westerne Seas.
Here sent she vp her Dolphins, and they plide
So busily their fares on euery side,
They made a quicke returne, and brought her downe
A many Homagers to Thamars crowne,
Who in themselues were of as great command
As any meaner Riuers of the Land.
With euery Nymph the Swaine of most account
That fed his white sheepe by her clearer fount:
And euery one to Thetis sweetly sung.
Among the rest a Shepherd (though but young,
Yet hartned to his Pipe) with all the skill
His few yeeres could, began to fit his quill.
By Tauies speedy streame he fed his flocke,
Where when he sate to sport him on a rocke,
The Water-nymphs would often come vnto him,
And for a dance with many gay gifts wooe him.
Now posies of this flowre, and then of that;
Now with fine shels, then with a rushie hat,
With Corrall or red stones brought from the deepe
To make him bracelets, or to marke his sheepe:
Willy he hight. Who by the Oceans Queene
More cheer'd to sing then such young Lads had beene,
Tooke his best framed Pipe, and thus gan moue
His voyce of Walla, Tauy's fairest Loue.
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