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 |  |
Once (yet that once too often) heretofore
The siluer Ladon on his sandy shore
Heard my complaints, and those coole groues that be
Shading the brest of louely Arcady
Witnesse the teares which I for Syrinx spent:
Syrinx the faire, from whom the instrument
That fils your feasts with ioy (which when I blow
Drawes to the sagging dug milke white as snow),
Had his beginning. This enough had beene
To shew the Fates (my deemed sisters) teene.
Here had they staid, this Adage had beene none:
“That our disasters neuer come alone.
What boot is it though I am said to be
The worthy sonne of winged Mercury?
That I with gentle Nymphs in Forrests high
Kist out the sweet time of my infancie?
And when more yeeres had made me able growne,
Was through the Mountains for their leader known?
That high-brow'd Mænalus where I was bred,
And stony hils not few haue honoured
Me as protector by the hands of Swaines,
Whose sheepe retire there from the open plaines?
That I in Shepherds cups ( reiecting gold)
Of milke and honie measures eight times told
Haue offred to me, and the ruddy wine
Fresh and new pressed from the bleeding Vine?
That gleesome Hunters pleased with their sport
With sacrifices due haue thank'd me for't?
That patient Anglers standing all the day
Neere to some shallow stickle or deepe bay,
And Fishermen whose nets haue drawne to land
A shoale so great it well-nye hides the sand,
For such successe some Promontories head
Thrust at by waues, hath knowne me worshipped?
But to increase my griefe, what profits this,
“Since still the losse is as the looser is?”
The siluer Ladon on his sandy shore
Heard my complaints, and those coole groues that be
Shading the brest of louely Arcady
Witnesse the teares which I for Syrinx spent:
Syrinx the faire, from whom the instrument
That fils your feasts with ioy (which when I blow
Drawes to the sagging dug milke white as snow),
Had his beginning. This enough had beene
To shew the Fates (my deemed sisters) teene.
Here had they staid, this Adage had beene none:
“That our disasters neuer come alone.
What boot is it though I am said to be
The worthy sonne of winged Mercury?
That I with gentle Nymphs in Forrests high
Kist out the sweet time of my infancie?
And when more yeeres had made me able growne,
Was through the Mountains for their leader known?
That high-brow'd Mænalus where I was bred,
And stony hils not few haue honoured
Me as protector by the hands of Swaines,
Whose sheepe retire there from the open plaines?
That I in Shepherds cups ( reiecting gold)
Of milke and honie measures eight times told
Haue offred to me, and the ruddy wine
Fresh and new pressed from the bleeding Vine?
That gleesome Hunters pleased with their sport
With sacrifices due haue thank'd me for't?
That patient Anglers standing all the day
Neere to some shallow stickle or deepe bay,
89
A shoale so great it well-nye hides the sand,
For such successe some Promontories head
Thrust at by waues, hath knowne me worshipped?
But to increase my griefe, what profits this,
“Since still the losse is as the looser is?”
| The Whole Works of William Browne | |