University of Virginia Library

[Yee goteheard Gods that love the grassy Mounteynes?]

Strephon. Klaius.
Strephon.
Yee goteheard Gods that love the grassy Mounteynes?
Yee Nymphes wch haunte the springes in pleasaunt valleys,
Yee Satyres joyed with free and quyet Forestes,
Vouchesafe youre sylent eares to playing Musick,
Whiche to my woes gives still an earely Morninge,
And Drawes the Dolor on till weary Eevening.

Klaius.
O Mercury, foregoer to the Eevening,
O heavenly Huntress of the Savage Mountaynes,
O Lovely Starr, entytled of the Morning,
(While that my voyce dothe fill these wofull valleys)
Vouchsafe youre silent eares to playing Musick,
Wch ofte hathe Echo tyred in secrett Forestes.

Strephon.
I that was once free Burgess of the Forestes
(Where shade from Sunn̄ and sporte I sought in Eevening)
I that was once esteemd for pleasaunt Musick,
And banisht now amongst the Monsterus Mountaynes,
Of huge Dispayre and fowle afflictions valleyes,
Am growne a Scriche Owle to my self eche morning.

Klaius.
I that was once delighted every morning,
Hunting the wylde Inhabiters of the Forestes,
I that was once the Musick of the valleyes,
So Darckened am, that all my day ys Eevening,
Hart broken so, that Mole hilles seeme hye Mounteynes,
And fill the valleyes wth Cryes in steade of Musick.

Strephon.
Longe synce, alas, my Deadly Swannish Musick,
Hathe made yt self a Cryer of the Morning,
And hathe with wayling strengthe clymed hyest Mountaynes,
Longe synce my thoughtes more Dezert bee then Forestes,
Longe synce I see my Joyes come to theyre Eevening,
And State throwne downe to every trodden valleys.

Klaius.
Longe synce the happy dwellers of these valleyes,
Have prayde mee leave my straunge exclaming Musick,
Whiche trubles theyre dayes worcke and Joyes of Eevening,
Longe since I hate the Nighte, more hate the Morning,
Longe synce my thoughtes chase mee like Beastes in Forestes
And make mee wish my self layde under Mountaynes.

Strephon.
Mee seemes I see the hye and stately Mountaynes,
Transforme them selves to Lowe dejected valleys,
Mee seemes I heare in these yll chaunged Forestes
The Nightingales do learne of Owles theyre Musick,
Mee seemes I feele ye Comfort of the Morning,
Turne to the Mortall Siren of an Eevening.

Klaius.
Mee seemes I see a filthy Clowdy Eevening,
Assoone as Sunn̄ begyns to clyme the Mountaynes,
Mee seemes I feele a Noysome sent the Morninge,
When I do smell the Flowers of the valleyes,
Mee seemes I heare (when I do heare sweete Musick)
The Dreadfull Cryes of Murdered men in Forestes.

Strephon.
I wish to fyre the trees of all these Forestes,
I give the Sunne a Last farewell eche eevening,
I Curse the fidling fynders oute of Musick,
With Envy I do hate the lofty Mountaynes,
And with Despyte do spyte the humble valleyes.
I Do detest Nighte, Eevening day and Morning.

Klaius.
Curse to myself my Prayer ys the Morninge,
My fyer ys more then can bee made with Forestes,
My estate more base, then ys the basest valleyes,
I wish no Eevening, more, to see eche eevening.
Shamed, I hate my self in sighte of Mountaynes,
And stopp myne Eares lest I growe Madd wth Musik.

Strephon.
For shee whose partes meyntayne a perfect Musick,
Whose bewtyes shyne more then the blusshing morninge,
Who muche did pass in state, the Stately Mountaynes,
In streightnes past the Caedars of the forrestes,
Hathe cast mee wretche into Eternall Eevening,
By taking her twoo Sunnes from these darck valleyes.

Klaius.
For shee with whome Comparde the Alpes are valleyes,
Shee whose Least worde bringes from the Spheares theyre Musick,
At whose approche the Sunne rase in the Eevening,
Who where shee went bare in her forehead Morning,
Ys gon̄ ys gon̄ from these oure spoyled Forestes,
Turning to Dezartes oure best pastured Mountaynes.

Strephon.
These Mountaynes witnes shall, so shall these valleyes,

Klaius.
These Forestes eeke made wretched by oure Musick,
Oure Morning Hymne this ys and Songe at Eevening.

Strephon.
I joy in greef and do detest all Joyes,
Despyse Delighte, and tyer with thoughtes of ease,
I turne my mynde to all Formes of Annoyes,
And with the Chaunge of them, my fancy please,
I Study that wch moste may mee displease,
And in Despite of that Displeasure mighte,
Embrace, that moste that moste my Sowle destroyes,
Blynded with Beames, fell Darcknes ys my sighte,
Dwell in my Ruyns, fedd with sucking smarte,
I thincke from mee, not from my woes to parte.

Klaius.
I thincke from mee, not from my woes to parte,
And lo this tyme calde Lyfe may thinck that lyfe,
Nature to mee, for Tormentes did imparte,
Thinck my hard happes have blunted Deathes sharp knyfe,
Not sparing mee in whome his worcke bee ryfe,
And thincking this thincke Nature lyfe and deathe,
Place, sorowes tryumphe, on my Conquerd hart,
Whereto I yeelde, and seeke no other breathe,
But from the sent of some infectious grave,
Nor of my fortune, oughte but mischeef crave.

Strephon.
Nor of my Fortune oughte but myscheef Crave,
And seeke to nourish that wch now contaynes,
All what I am, yf I my self will save,
Then must I save what in mee cheefly raynes,
Whiche ys the hatefull webb of sorowes paynes
Sorow then Cherish mee for I am Sorowe,
No beeyng now but Sorow I can have,
Then deck mee as thyne owne, thy help I borowe,
Synce thow Joy reckles arte, and that thow haste,
Inoughe to make a fertyle mynde lye waste.

Klaius.
Inoughe to make a fertile mynde lye waste,
Ys that huge storme wch powers yt self on mee,
Hayle stones of teares, of Sighes a Monsterus blast,
Thunders of Cryes, Lightninges my wylde Lookes bee.
The Darckened Heaven my Sowle wch nought can see,
The Flying spirites wch Trees by Rootes up teares,
Be those Dispayres wch have my hopes quite raste,
The Difference ys all Folckes those stormes forbeare,
But I can not, who then my self shoulde flee
So close unto my self my wrackes do lye.

Strephon.
So close unto my self my wrackes do lye,
Bothe Cause, Effect beginning and the ende,
All are in mee, what help then can I trye
My Shipp my self whose Course to Love dothe bend,
Sore beaten dothe her mast of Comfort spend
Her Cable Reason, breakes from Ancker Hope,
Fancy her Tackling, Torne away dothe flye,
Rwyn the wynde hathe blowne mee from her scope,
Brused with waves of Care, but broken ys
On Rock Dispayre the Buryall of my Blisse.

Klaius.
On Rock Dispayre, the Buryall of my Blisse,
I longe do plowe with plowe of Depe Desyer,
The seede fast meanyng ys no truthe to misse,
I harrowe yt with thoughtes wch all Conspyre,
Favoure to make my Cheef and onely hyer,
But woe ys mee the yeare ys gon̄ aboute,
And now I fayne woulde reape, I reape but this,
Hate fully growne, absence new spronge oute,
So that I see allthoughe my sighte empayre,
Vayne ys theyre payne, who Laboure in Dispayre.

Strephon.
Vayne ys theyre payne, who Laboure in Dispayre
For so did I when with myne Angle will,
I sought to catche the Fish Torpedo fayre
Even then Dispayre did hope all redy kill,
Yet Fancy wolde perforce employ his skill,
And this hathe gott the Catcher now hathe caught
Lamed with the Angle wch yt self did beare,
And unto Deathe, quite Drownde in Doloures brought,
To Deathe as then Disguysde in her fayre face,
Thus, thus, alas I had my Losse in Chace.

Klaius.
Thus, thus alas, I had my Losse in Chace,
When first that Crowned Basilik I knewe,
Whose Footsteppes I with kisses ofte did trace,
Till (by suche happ, as I must ever Rue)
Myne eyes did lighte uppon her shyning Hue,
And thus on mee astonisht with her sight,
Synce then my hart did Lose hys wonted place,
Infected so with her sweete poysons mighte
That Leaving mee for Deade to her yt went
But ah her flight hathe my Dead Reliques spent.

Strephon.
But ah her flight hathe my Deade Reliques spent,
Her flight from mee, from mee, though Dead to mee,
Yet Living still in her while her beames lent,
Suche vitall sparck, that her myne eyes might see,
But nowe these Living lightes absented bee,
(Full Deade before) I nowe to dust should falle
But that eternall paynes my sowle have hent,
And keepe yt still within this Body thralle.
That thus I must while in this Deathe I dwell,
In earthly fetters feele a Lasting hell.

Klaius.
In earthely fetters feele a Lasting hell,
Alas, I doo, from wch to fynde release,
I woulde the Earthe, I woulde the Heavens fell,
But vayne yt ys, to thincke those paynes shoulde Cease,
Wheare lyfe ys Deathe, and Deathe can not bringe peace,
O fayre, O onely fayre from thee alas,
These fowle moste fowle Desasters to my falle,
Since thow from mee, (O mee) O Sunn̄ didst pass.
Therefore esteeming all good blessinges Toyes,
I joyed in greef and do Detest all Joyes.

Strephon.
I joy in greef and do Detest all Joyes,
But now an ende, O Klaius now an ende,
For even the herbes oure hatefull Musick stroyes,
And from oure burning Breath the Trees doo bend.