Pandora The Musyque of the beautie of his Mistresse Diana. Composed by John Soowthern ... and dedicated to the right Honorable, Edward Deuer, Earle of Oxenford, &c |
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Elegia. 1. To the Echon.
O dolefull voice, that doost aunswer,The weepings of my care:
And that heere in these mozie groues,
Hast pittie on my dolance,
(At least) dooth make a semblaunce,
To feele my wounds that proceede of
Two eyes, to greene, and fayre.
O speake since thou canst not liue ex-
cept I shall giue the brethe:
And since my greeuous voice, is one-
lie the nurce of thy steme:
I crying Dian, why makest thou
Dye Iohn, aunswer agen:
Wouldst thou I lou'de no more,
Or doost thou Prophesie my death.
O noble Nymph tell mee, or doost
Thou now inflame againe,
With the antiqueus amor, that
Thou louedst so in vaine.
Or is it that remembring my
Loue, I should pittie thine.
For the like dollor that thou hadst,
Euen the like doo I suffer:
And the like amore that thou hadst,
The like to mee dooth offer:
Saue that thy loue was not so fayre,
Nor so cruelly as mine.
Elegia. 2. To the Gods.
When the eye of the world dooth washe,his golden shining heaire,
In the large Occean seas: and that
They haue couerd the lyght:
Amurmuring repose, and a
Restfull and sleepy night,
Is spreded both ouer the earth,
The waters and the ayre.
Dooth my brightest Aurôr,
In a sweete dreame present her selfe,
O dreame, no dreame: but well,
The Ambrozie, the Nectar, and
The Manna, Eternell.
And to be breefe, a vision that
I lyke a God adore.
Wherefore farewell, day of nights, and
Welcome night waking daye:
And farewell waking, of my sleepe,
Welcome sleepe, lyuing ioye.
But what say I, my wealth is false,
And my euill verita-ble:
And I plaine of them both, for I
Haue in neither delight:
Except ye Gods will short these dayes,
And eternishe this night:
And that God that will doo it, shall
be a God charita-ble.
Elegia. 3. To his Diana.
If the secretnesse of my thoughtes,Were opened to you,
Or if else my dolorous heart,
Had of speaking the vsage:
Or (warrier) if my constancie,
Were painted in my visage:
Or that if ye knewe my torment,
How it is great and true.
Or, or if any golden wordes,
In well composed verse,
Could liuelelie shewe the picture,
Of an amourous rage:
lishe a Tigers courage.
And moue to pittie (warrier) if
it were the vniuerce.
But since wordes, neither can prescribe
My amore, nor my paine:
Tyme shall it selfe, witnesse how much
Both are in me certaine:
And that of my passioned soule,
The Diuine great loyalties:
Doo the sacrednesse of all o-
thers, I of the Gods passe:
And more then the syluer maie-
sties, of your Christall face,
Underneath, tother Phebes, doo
Excell all other Beutæs.
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