University of Virginia Library

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47

THE FIRST EGLOG. When as the joyfull spring

Now Phœbus from the equinoctiall Zone,
Had task'd his teame unto the higher spheare,
And from the brightnes of his glorious throne,
Sends forth his Beames to light the lower ayre,
The cheerfull welkin, comen this long look'd hower,
Distils adowne full many a silver shower.

Fayre Philomel night-musicke of the spring,
Sweetly recordes her tunefull harmony,
And with deepe sobbes, and dolefull sorrowing,
Before fayre Cinthya actes her Tragedy:
The Throstlecock, by breaking of the day,
Chants to his sweete, full many a lovely lay.

The crawling snake, against the morning sunne,
Now streaks him in his rayn-bow coloured cote:
The darkesome shades, as loathsome he doth shunne,
Inchanted with the Birds sweete silvan note:
The Buck forsakes the launds where he hath fed,
And scornes the hunt should view his velvet head.

Through all the partes, dispersed is the blood,
The lustie spring, in flower of all her pride,
Man, bird, and beast, and fish, in pleasant flood,
Rejoycing all in this most joyfull tide:
Save Rowland leaning on a Ranpick tree,
O'r growne with age, forlorne with woe was he.

Oh blessed Pan, thou shepheards god sayth he,
O thou Creator of the starrie light,
Whose wonderous workes shew thy divinitie,
Thou wise inventor of the day and night,
Refreshing nature with the lovely spring,
Quite blemisht erst, with stormy winters sting.

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48

O thou strong builder of the firmament,
Who placedst Phœbus in his fierie Carre,
And by thy mighty Godhead didst invent,
The planets mansions that they should not jarre,
Ordeyning Phebe, mistresse of the night,
From Tytans flame to steale her forked light.

Even from the cleerest christall shining throne,
Under whose feete the heavens are low abased,
Commaunding in thy majestie alone,
Whereas the fiery Cherubines are placed:
Receive my vowes as incense unto thee,
My tribute due to thy eternitie.

O shepheards soveraigne, yea receive in gree,
The gushing teares, from never-resting eyes,
And let those prayers which I shall make to thee,
Be in thy sight perfumed sacrifice:
Let smokie sighes be pledges of contrition,
For follies past to make my soules submission.

Submission makes amends for all my misse,
Contrition a refined life begins,
Then sacred sighes, what thing more precious is?
And prayers be oblations for my sinnes,
Repentant teares, from heaven-beholding eyes,
Ascend the ayre, and penetrate the skies.

My sorowes waxe, my joyes are in the wayning,
My hope decayes, and my despayre is springing,
My love hath losse, and my disgrace hath gayning,
Wrong rules, desert with teares her hands sits wringing:
Sorrow, despayre, disgrace, and wrong, doe thwart
My Joy, my love, my hope, and my desert.

Devouring time shall swallow up my sorrowes,
And strong beliefe shall torture black despaire,
Death shall orewhelme disgrace, in deepest furrowes,
And Justice laie my wrongs upon the Beere:
Thus Justice, death, beleefe, and time, ere long,
Shall end my woes, despayre, disgrace, and wrong.

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Yet time shall be expir'd and lose his date,
And full assurance cancell strongest trust,
Eternitie shall trample on deathes pate,
And Justice shall surcease when all be just:
Thus time, beleefe, death, Justice, shall surcease,
By date, assurance, eternity, and peace.

Thus breathing from the Center of his soule,
The tragick accents of his extasie,
His sun-set eyes gan here and there to roule,
Like one surprisde with sodaine lunacie:
And being rouzde out of melancholly,
Flye whirle-winde thoughts unto the heavens quoth he.

Now in the Ocean Tytan quencht his flame,
And summond Cinthya to set up her light,
The heavens with their glorious starry frame,
Preparde to crowne the sable-vayled night:
When Rowland from this time-consumed stock,
With stone-colde hart now stalketh towards his flock.