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 Second Song.
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 | The Whole Works of William Browne |  |
55
The Second Song.
The Argvment.
Obliuions Spring, and Dory's loue,With faire Marina's rape, first moue
Mine Oaten Pipe, which after sings
The birth of two renowned Springs.
Now till the Sunne shall leave vs to our rest,
And Cynthia haue her Brothers place possest,
I shall goe on: and first in diffring stripe,
The floud-Gods speech thus tune on Oaten Pipe.
Or mortall, or a power aboue,
Inrag'd by Fury, or by Loue,
Or both, I know not; such a deed
Thou would'st effected, that I bleed
To thinke thereon: alas poore else,
What growne a traitour to thy selfe?
This face, this haire, this hand so pure
Were not ordain'd for nothing sure.
Nor was it meant so sweet a breath
Should be expos'd by such a death;
But rather in some louers brest
Be giuen vp, the place that best
Befits a louer yeeld his soule.
Nor should those mortals ere controule
The Gods, that in their wisdome sage
Appointed haue what Pilgrimage
Each one should runne: and why should men
Abridge the iourney set for them?
But much I wonder any wight
If he did turne his outward sight
Into his inward, dar'd to act
Her death, whose body is compact
Of all the beauties euer Nature
Laid vp in store for earthly creature.
No sauage beast can be so cruell
To rob the earth of such a Iewell.
Rather the stately Vnicorne
Would in his breast enraged scorne,
That Maids committed to his charge
By any beast in Forrest large
Should so be wronged. Satyres rude
Durst not attempt, or ere intrude
With such a minde the flowry balkes
Where harmlesse Virgins haue their walkes.
Would she be won with me to stay,
My waters should bring from the Sea
The Corrall red, as tribute due,
And roundest pearles of Orient hue:
Or in the richer veines of ground
Should seeke for her the Diamond.
And whereas now vnto my Spring
They nothing else but grauell bring,
They should within a Mine of Gold
In piercing manner long time hold,
And hauing it to dust well wrought,
By them it hither should be brought;
With which Ile paue and ouer-spread
My bottome, where her foot shall tread.
The best of Fishes in my flood
Shall giue themselues to be her food.
The Trout, the Dace, the Pike, the Breame,
The Eele, that loues the troubled streame,
The Millers thombe, the hiding Loach,
The Perch, the euer-nibbling Roach,
The Shoats with whom is Tauie fraught,
The foolish Gudgeon, quickly caught,
And last the little Minnow-fish,
Whose chiefe delight in grauell is.
And Cynthia haue her Brothers place possest,
I shall goe on: and first in diffring stripe,
The floud-Gods speech thus tune on Oaten Pipe.
Or mortall, or a power aboue,
Inrag'd by Fury, or by Loue,
Or both, I know not; such a deed
Thou would'st effected, that I bleed
To thinke thereon: alas poore else,
What growne a traitour to thy selfe?
This face, this haire, this hand so pure
Were not ordain'd for nothing sure.
Nor was it meant so sweet a breath
Should be expos'd by such a death;
56
Be giuen vp, the place that best
Befits a louer yeeld his soule.
Nor should those mortals ere controule
The Gods, that in their wisdome sage
Appointed haue what Pilgrimage
Each one should runne: and why should men
Abridge the iourney set for them?
But much I wonder any wight
If he did turne his outward sight
Into his inward, dar'd to act
Her death, whose body is compact
Of all the beauties euer Nature
Laid vp in store for earthly creature.
No sauage beast can be so cruell
To rob the earth of such a Iewell.
Rather the stately Vnicorne
Would in his breast enraged scorne,
That Maids committed to his charge
By any beast in Forrest large
Should so be wronged. Satyres rude
Durst not attempt, or ere intrude
With such a minde the flowry balkes
Where harmlesse Virgins haue their walkes.
Would she be won with me to stay,
My waters should bring from the Sea
The Corrall red, as tribute due,
And roundest pearles of Orient hue:
Or in the richer veines of ground
Should seeke for her the Diamond.
And whereas now vnto my Spring
They nothing else but grauell bring,
They should within a Mine of Gold
In piercing manner long time hold,
And hauing it to dust well wrought,
By them it hither should be brought;
57
My bottome, where her foot shall tread.
The best of Fishes in my flood
Shall giue themselues to be her food.
The Trout, the Dace, the Pike, the Breame,
The Eele, that loues the troubled streame,
The Millers thombe, the hiding Loach,
The Perch, the euer-nibbling Roach,
The Shoats with whom is Tauie fraught,
The foolish Gudgeon, quickly caught,
And last the little Minnow-fish,
Whose chiefe delight in grauell is.
In right she cannot me despise
Because so low mine Empire lies.
For I could tell how Natures store
Of Maiesty appeareth more
In waters, then in all the rest
Of Elements. It seem'd her best
To giue the waues most strength and power:
For they doe swallow and deuoure
The earth; the waters quench and kill
The flames of fire: and mounting still
Vp in the aire, are seene to be,
As challenging a Seignorie
Within the heauens, and to be one
That should haue like dominion.
They be a seeling and a floore
Of clouds, caus'd by the vapours store
Arising from them, vitall spirit
By which all things their life inherit
From them is stopped, kept asunder.
And what's the reason else of Thunder,
Of lightnings flashes all about,
That with such violence breake out,
Causing such troubles and such iarres,
As with it selfe the world had warres?
And can there any thing appeare
More wonderfull, then in the aire
Congealed waters oft to spie
Continuing pendant in the Skie?
Till falling downe in haile or snow,
They make those mortall wights below
To runne, and euer helpe desire
From his foe Element the fire,
Which fearing then to come abroad,
Within doores maketh his aboad.
Or falling downe oft time in raine,
Doth giue greene Liueries to the plaine,
Make[s] Shepheards Lambs fit for the dish,
And giueth nutriment to fish.
Which nourisheth all things of worth
The earth produceth and brings forth;
And therefore well considering
The nature of it in each thing:
As when the teeming earth doth grow
So hard, that none can plow nor sow,
Her breast it doth so mollifie,
That it not onely comes to be
More easie for the share and Oxe,
But that in Haruest times the shocks
Of Ceres hanging eared corne
Doth fill the Houell and the Barne.
To Trees and Plants I comfort giue,
By me they fructifie and liue:
For first ascending from beneath
Into the Skie, with liuely breath,
I thence am furnish'd, and bestow
The same on Herbs that are below.
So that by this each one may see
I cause them spring and multiply.
Who seeth this, can doe no lesse,
Then of his owne accord confesse,
That notwithstanding all the strength
The earth enioyes in breadth and length,
She is beholding to each streame,
And hath receiued all from them.
Her loue to him she then must giue
By whom her selfe doth chiefly liue.
This being spoken by this waters God,
He straight-way in his hand did take his rod,
And stroke it on his banke, wherewith the flood
Did such a roaring make within the wood,
That straight the Nimph who then sate on her shore,
Knew there was somewhat do be done in store:
And therefore hasting to her Brothers Spring
She spide what caus'd the waters ecchoing.
Saw where faire Marine fast asleepe did lie,
Whilst that the God still viewing her sate by:
Who when he saw his Sister Nymph draw neare,
He thus gane tune his voice vnto her eare.
My fairest Sister (for we come
Both from the swelling Thetis wombe)
The reason why of late I strooke
My ruling wand vpon my Brooke
Was for this purpose; Late this Maid
Which on my banke asleepe is laid,
Was by her selfe or other wight,
Cast in my spring, and did affright
With her late fall, the fish that take
Their chiefest pleasure in my Lake:
Of all the Fry within my deepe,
None durst out of their dwellings peepe.
The Trout within the weeds did scud,
The Eele him hid within the mud.
Yea, from this feare I was not free:
For as I musing sate to see
How that the prettie Pibbles round
Came with my Spring from vnder ground,
And how the waters issuing
Did make them dance about my Spring;
The noise thereof did me appall:
That starting vpward therewithall,
I in my armes her bodie caught,
And both to light and life her brought:
Then cast her in a sleepe you see.
But Brother, to the cause (quoth she)
Why by your raging waters wilde
Am I here called? Thetis childe,
Replide the God, for thee I sent,
That when her time of sleepe is spent,
I may commit her to thy gage,
Since women best know womens rage.
Meanewhile, faire Nymph, accompanie
My Spring with thy sweet harmonie;
And we will make her soule to take
Some pleasure, which is said to wake,
Although the body hath his rest.
She gaue consent, and each of them addrest
Vnto their part. The watrie Nymph did sing
In manner of a prettie questioning:
The God made answer to what she propounded,
Whilst from the Spring a pleasant musicke sounded,
(Making each shrub in silence to adore them)
Taking their subiect from what lay before them.
Nymph.
Because so low mine Empire lies.
For I could tell how Natures store
Of Maiesty appeareth more
In waters, then in all the rest
Of Elements. It seem'd her best
To giue the waues most strength and power:
For they doe swallow and deuoure
The earth; the waters quench and kill
The flames of fire: and mounting still
Vp in the aire, are seene to be,
As challenging a Seignorie
Within the heauens, and to be one
That should haue like dominion.
They be a seeling and a floore
Of clouds, caus'd by the vapours store
Arising from them, vitall spirit
By which all things their life inherit
From them is stopped, kept asunder.
And what's the reason else of Thunder,
Of lightnings flashes all about,
That with such violence breake out,
Causing such troubles and such iarres,
As with it selfe the world had warres?
58
More wonderfull, then in the aire
Congealed waters oft to spie
Continuing pendant in the Skie?
Till falling downe in haile or snow,
They make those mortall wights below
To runne, and euer helpe desire
From his foe Element the fire,
Which fearing then to come abroad,
Within doores maketh his aboad.
Or falling downe oft time in raine,
Doth giue greene Liueries to the plaine,
Make[s] Shepheards Lambs fit for the dish,
And giueth nutriment to fish.
Which nourisheth all things of worth
The earth produceth and brings forth;
And therefore well considering
The nature of it in each thing:
As when the teeming earth doth grow
So hard, that none can plow nor sow,
Her breast it doth so mollifie,
That it not onely comes to be
More easie for the share and Oxe,
But that in Haruest times the shocks
Of Ceres hanging eared corne
Doth fill the Houell and the Barne.
To Trees and Plants I comfort giue,
By me they fructifie and liue:
For first ascending from beneath
Into the Skie, with liuely breath,
I thence am furnish'd, and bestow
The same on Herbs that are below.
So that by this each one may see
I cause them spring and multiply.
Who seeth this, can doe no lesse,
Then of his owne accord confesse,
59
The earth enioyes in breadth and length,
She is beholding to each streame,
And hath receiued all from them.
Her loue to him she then must giue
By whom her selfe doth chiefly liue.
This being spoken by this waters God,
He straight-way in his hand did take his rod,
And stroke it on his banke, wherewith the flood
Did such a roaring make within the wood,
That straight the Nimph who then sate on her shore,
Knew there was somewhat do be done in store:
And therefore hasting to her Brothers Spring
She spide what caus'd the waters ecchoing.
Saw where faire Marine fast asleepe did lie,
Whilst that the God still viewing her sate by:
Who when he saw his Sister Nymph draw neare,
He thus gane tune his voice vnto her eare.
My fairest Sister (for we come
Both from the swelling Thetis wombe)
The reason why of late I strooke
My ruling wand vpon my Brooke
Was for this purpose; Late this Maid
Which on my banke asleepe is laid,
Was by her selfe or other wight,
Cast in my spring, and did affright
With her late fall, the fish that take
Their chiefest pleasure in my Lake:
Of all the Fry within my deepe,
None durst out of their dwellings peepe.
The Trout within the weeds did scud,
The Eele him hid within the mud.
Yea, from this feare I was not free:
For as I musing sate to see
How that the prettie Pibbles round
Came with my Spring from vnder ground,
60
Did make them dance about my Spring;
The noise thereof did me appall:
That starting vpward therewithall,
I in my armes her bodie caught,
And both to light and life her brought:
Then cast her in a sleepe you see.
But Brother, to the cause (quoth she)
Why by your raging waters wilde
Am I here called? Thetis childe,
Replide the God, for thee I sent,
That when her time of sleepe is spent,
I may commit her to thy gage,
Since women best know womens rage.
Meanewhile, faire Nymph, accompanie
My Spring with thy sweet harmonie;
And we will make her soule to take
Some pleasure, which is said to wake,
Although the body hath his rest.
She gaue consent, and each of them addrest
Vnto their part. The watrie Nymph did sing
In manner of a prettie questioning:
The God made answer to what she propounded,
Whilst from the Spring a pleasant musicke sounded,
(Making each shrub in silence to adore them)
Taking their subiect from what lay before them.
Whats
that, compact of earth, infus'd with aire;
A certaine, made full with vncertainties;
Sway'd by the motion of each seuerall Spheare;
Who's fed with nought but infelicities;
Endures nor heat nor cold; is like a Swan,
That this houre sings, next dies?
A certaine, made full with vncertainties;
Sway'd by the motion of each seuerall Spheare;
Who's fed with nought but infelicities;
Endures nor heat nor cold; is like a Swan,
That this houre sings, next dies?
God.
It is a Man.
61
Whats he, borne to be sicke, so alwaies dying,
That's guided by ineuitable Fate;
That comes in weeping, and that goes out crying;
Whose Kalender of woes is still in date;
Whose life's a bubble, and in length a span;
A consort still in discords?
That's guided by ineuitable Fate;
That comes in weeping, and that goes out crying;
Whose Kalender of woes is still in date;
Whose life's a bubble, and in length a span;
A consort still in discords?
God.
Tis a man.
Nymph.
What's hee, whose thoughts are still quell'd in th' euent,
Though ne'r so lawfull, by an opposite,
Hath all things fleeting, nothing permanent:
And at his eares weares still a Parasite:
Hath friends in wealth, or wealthie friends, who can
In want proue meere illusions?
Though ne'r so lawfull, by an opposite,
Hath all things fleeting, nothing permanent:
And at his eares weares still a Parasite:
Hath friends in wealth, or wealthie friends, who can
In want proue meere illusions?
God.
Tis a Man.
Nymph.
What's he, that what he is not, striues to seeme,
That doth support an Atlas-weight of care:
That of an outward good doth best esteeme:
And looketh not within how solid they are:
That doth not vertuous, but the richest scan;
Learning and worth by wealth?
That doth support an Atlas-weight of care:
That of an outward good doth best esteeme:
And looketh not within how solid they are:
That doth not vertuous, but the richest scan;
Learning and worth by wealth?
God.
It is a Man.
Nymph.
What's that possessor, which of good makes bad;
And what is worst, makes choice still for the best;
That grieueth most to thinke of what he had;
And of his chiefest losse accounteth least;
That doth not what he ought, but what he can;
Whose fancie's euer boundlesse?
And what is worst, makes choice still for the best;
That grieueth most to thinke of what he had;
And of his chiefest losse accounteth least;
That doth not what he ought, but what he can;
Whose fancie's euer boundlesse?
God.
Tis a man.
Nymph.
But what is it wherein Dame Nature wrought
The best of works, the onely frame of Heauen;
And hauing long to finde a present sought,
Wherein the worlds whole beautie might be giuen;
She did resolue in it all arts to summon,
To ioine with Natures framing?
The best of works, the onely frame of Heauen;
And hauing long to finde a present sought,
Wherein the worlds whole beautie might be giuen;
62
To ioine with Natures framing?
God.
Tis this Woman.
Nymph.
If beautie be a thing to be admired;
And if admiring draw to it affection;
And what we doe affect is most desired;
What wight is he to loue denies subiection?
And can his thoughts within himselfe confine?
And if admiring draw to it affection;
And what we doe affect is most desired;
What wight is he to loue denies subiection?
And can his thoughts within himselfe confine?
Marine that waking lay, said: Celandine.
He is the man that hates which some admire;
He is the wight that loathes whom most desire:
'Tis onely he to loue denies subiecting,
And but himselfe, thinkes none is worth affecting.
Vnhappy me the while, accurst my Fate,
That Nature giues no loue where she gaue hate.
The watrie Rulers then perceiued plaine,
Nipt with the Winter of loues frost, Disdaine;
This Non-par-el of beautie had beene led
To doe an act which Enuie pitied:
Therefore in pitie did conferre together,
What Physicke best might cure this burning Feuer.
At last found out that in a Groue below,
Where shadowing Sicamours past number grow,
A Fountaine takes his iourney to the Maine,
Whose liquors nature was so soueraigne,
(Like to the wondrous Well and famous Spring,
Which in Boe[o]tia hath his issuing)
That whoso of it doth but onely taste,
All former memorie from him doth waste.
Not changing any other worke of Nature,
But doth endow the drinker with a feature
More louely, faire Medea tooke from hence
Some of this water, by whose quintessence,
Æson from age came backe to youth. This knowne,
The God thus spake:
He is the man that hates which some admire;
He is the wight that loathes whom most desire:
'Tis onely he to loue denies subiecting,
And but himselfe, thinkes none is worth affecting.
Vnhappy me the while, accurst my Fate,
That Nature giues no loue where she gaue hate.
The watrie Rulers then perceiued plaine,
Nipt with the Winter of loues frost, Disdaine;
This Non-par-el of beautie had beene led
To doe an act which Enuie pitied:
Therefore in pitie did conferre together,
What Physicke best might cure this burning Feuer.
At last found out that in a Groue below,
Where shadowing Sicamours past number grow,
A Fountaine takes his iourney to the Maine,
Whose liquors nature was so soueraigne,
(Like to the wondrous Well and famous Spring,
Which in Boe[o]tia hath his issuing)
That whoso of it doth but onely taste,
All former memorie from him doth waste.
Not changing any other worke of Nature,
But doth endow the drinker with a feature
More louely, faire Medea tooke from hence
Some of this water, by whose quintessence,
Æson from age came backe to youth. This knowne,
63
Nymph, be thine owne,
And after mine. This Goddesse here
(For shees no lesse) will bring thee where
Thou shalt acknowledge Springs haue do[n]e
As much for thee as any one.
Which ended, and thou gotten free,
If thou wilt come and liue with me,
No Shepherds daughter, nor his wife,
Shall boast them of a better life.
Meane while I leaue thy thoughts at large,
Thy body to my sisters charge;
Whilst I into my Spring doe diue,
To see that they doe not depriue
The Meadowes neere, which much doe thirst,
Thus heated by the Sunne. May first
(Quoth Marine) Swaines giue Lambs to thee;
And may thy Floud haue seignorie
Of all Flouds else, and to thy fame
Meet greater Springs, yet keepe thy name.
May neuer Euet nor the Tode,
Within thy bankes make their abode!
Taking thy iourney from the Sea,
Maist thou ne'er happen in thy way
On Niter or on Brimstone Mine,
To spoile thy taste! this Spring of thine
Let it of nothing taste but earth,
And salt conceiued, in their birth
Be euer fresh! Let no man dare
To spoile thy Fish, make locke or ware,
But on thy Margent still let dwell
Those flowers which haue the sweetest smell.
And let the dust vpon thy strand
Become like Tagus golden sand.
Let as much good betide to thee,
As thou hast fauour shew'd to mee.
Thus said, in gentle paces they remoue,
And hastned onward to the shadie Groue:
Where both arriu'd; and hauing found the Rocke,
Saw how this precious water it did locke.
As he whom Auarice possesseth most,
Drawne by necessitie vnto his cost,
Doth drop by peece-meale downe his prison'd gold,
And seemes vnwilling to let goe his hold:
So the strong rocke the water long time stops,
And by degrees lets it fall downe in drops.
Like hoording huswiues that doe mold their food,
And keepe from others, what doth them no good.
And after mine. This Goddesse here
(For shees no lesse) will bring thee where
Thou shalt acknowledge Springs haue do[n]e
As much for thee as any one.
Which ended, and thou gotten free,
If thou wilt come and liue with me,
No Shepherds daughter, nor his wife,
Shall boast them of a better life.
Meane while I leaue thy thoughts at large,
Thy body to my sisters charge;
Whilst I into my Spring doe diue,
To see that they doe not depriue
The Meadowes neere, which much doe thirst,
Thus heated by the Sunne. May first
(Quoth Marine) Swaines giue Lambs to thee;
And may thy Floud haue seignorie
Of all Flouds else, and to thy fame
Meet greater Springs, yet keepe thy name.
May neuer Euet nor the Tode,
Within thy bankes make their abode!
Taking thy iourney from the Sea,
Maist thou ne'er happen in thy way
On Niter or on Brimstone Mine,
To spoile thy taste! this Spring of thine
Let it of nothing taste but earth,
And salt conceiued, in their birth
Be euer fresh! Let no man dare
To spoile thy Fish, make locke or ware,
But on thy Margent still let dwell
Those flowers which haue the sweetest smell.
And let the dust vpon thy strand
Become like Tagus golden sand.
Let as much good betide to thee,
As thou hast fauour shew'd to mee.
64
And hastned onward to the shadie Groue:
Where both arriu'd; and hauing found the Rocke,
Saw how this precious water it did locke.
As he whom Auarice possesseth most,
Drawne by necessitie vnto his cost,
Doth drop by peece-meale downe his prison'd gold,
And seemes vnwilling to let goe his hold:
So the strong rocke the water long time stops,
And by degrees lets it fall downe in drops.
Like hoording huswiues that doe mold their food,
And keepe from others, what doth them no good.
The drops within a Cesterne, fell of stone,
Which fram'd by Nature, Art had neuer one
Halfe part so curious. Many spells then vsing,
The waters Nymph twixt Marines lips infusing
Part of this water, she might straight perceiue
How soone her troubled thoughts began to leaue
Her Loue-swolne-breast; and that her inward flame
Was cleane asswaged, and the very name
Of Celandine forgotten; did scarce know
If there were such a thing as Loue or no.
And sighing, therewithall threw in the aire
All former loue, all sorrow, all despaire;
And all the former causes of her mone
Did therewith burie in obliuion.
Then mustring vp her thoughts, growne vagabonds
Prest to releeue her inward bleeding wounds,
She had as quickly all things past forgotten,
As men doe Monarchs that in earth lie rotten.
As one new borne she seem'd, so al discerning,
“Though things long learned are the longst vnlearning.
Then walk'd they to a Groue but neere at hand,
Where fierie Titan had but small command,
Because the leaues conspiring kept his beames,
For feare of hurting (when hee's in extreames)
The vnder-flowers, which did enrich the ground
With sweeter sents than in Arabia found.
The earth doth yeeld (which they through pores exhale)
Earths best of odours, th' Aromaticall:
Like to that smell which oft our sense descries
Within a field which long vnplowed lies,
Somewhat before the setting of the Sunne;
And where the Raine-bow in the Horizon
Doth pitch her tips: or as when in the prime,
The earth being troubled with a drought long time,
The hand of Heauen his spungie Clouds doth straine,
And throwes into her lap a showre of raine;
She sendeth vp (conceiued from the Sunne)
A sweet perfume and exhalation.
Not all the Ointments brought from Delos Ile;
Nor from the confines of seuen-headed Nile;
Nor that brought whence Phœnicians haue abodes;
Nor Cyprus wilde Vine-flowers, nor that of Rhodes,
Nor Roses-oile from Naples, Capua,
Saffron confected in Cilicia;
Nor that of Quinces, nor of Marioram,
That euer from the Ile of Coos came.
Nor these, nor any else, though ne'er so rare,
Could with this place for sweetest smels compare.
There stood the Elme, whose shade so mildly dim
Doth nourish all that groweth vnder him.
Cypresse that like Piramides runne topping,
And hurt the least of any by their dropping.
The Alder, whose fat shadow nourisheth,
Each Plant set neere to him long flourisheth.
The heauie-headed Plane-tree, by whose shade
The grasse growes thickest, men are fresher made.
The Oake, that best endures the Thunder-shocks
The euerlasting Ebene, Cedar, Box.
The Oliue that in Wainscot neuer cleaues.
The amorous Vine which in the Elme still weaues.
The Lotus, Iuniper, where wormes ne'er enter:
The Pyne, with whom men through the Ocean venter.
The warlike Yewgh, by which (more then the Lance)
The strong-arm'd English spirits conquer'd France.
Amongst the rest the Tamariske there stood,
For Huswiues bosomes onely knowne most good.
The cold-place-louing Birch, and Seruis tree:
The Walnut louing vales, and Mulbury.
The Maple, Ashe; that doe delight in Fountaines,
Which haue their currents by the sides of Mountains.
The Laurell, Mirtle, Iuy, Date, which hold
Their leaues all Winter, be it ne'er so cold.
The Firre, that oftentimes doth Rosin drop:
The Beech that scales the Welkin with his top:
All these, and thousand more within this Groue,
By all the industry of Nature stroue
To frame an Harbour that might keepe within it
The best of beauties that the world hath in it.
Which fram'd by Nature, Art had neuer one
Halfe part so curious. Many spells then vsing,
The waters Nymph twixt Marines lips infusing
Part of this water, she might straight perceiue
How soone her troubled thoughts began to leaue
Her Loue-swolne-breast; and that her inward flame
Was cleane asswaged, and the very name
Of Celandine forgotten; did scarce know
If there were such a thing as Loue or no.
And sighing, therewithall threw in the aire
All former loue, all sorrow, all despaire;
And all the former causes of her mone
Did therewith burie in obliuion.
Then mustring vp her thoughts, growne vagabonds
Prest to releeue her inward bleeding wounds,
She had as quickly all things past forgotten,
As men doe Monarchs that in earth lie rotten.
As one new borne she seem'd, so al discerning,
“Though things long learned are the longst vnlearning.
Then walk'd they to a Groue but neere at hand,
Where fierie Titan had but small command,
Because the leaues conspiring kept his beames,
For feare of hurting (when hee's in extreames)
65
With sweeter sents than in Arabia found.
The earth doth yeeld (which they through pores exhale)
Earths best of odours, th' Aromaticall:
Like to that smell which oft our sense descries
Within a field which long vnplowed lies,
Somewhat before the setting of the Sunne;
And where the Raine-bow in the Horizon
Doth pitch her tips: or as when in the prime,
The earth being troubled with a drought long time,
The hand of Heauen his spungie Clouds doth straine,
And throwes into her lap a showre of raine;
She sendeth vp (conceiued from the Sunne)
A sweet perfume and exhalation.
Not all the Ointments brought from Delos Ile;
Nor from the confines of seuen-headed Nile;
Nor that brought whence Phœnicians haue abodes;
Nor Cyprus wilde Vine-flowers, nor that of Rhodes,
Nor Roses-oile from Naples, Capua,
Saffron confected in Cilicia;
Nor that of Quinces, nor of Marioram,
That euer from the Ile of Coos came.
Nor these, nor any else, though ne'er so rare,
Could with this place for sweetest smels compare.
There stood the Elme, whose shade so mildly dim
Doth nourish all that groweth vnder him.
Cypresse that like Piramides runne topping,
And hurt the least of any by their dropping.
The Alder, whose fat shadow nourisheth,
Each Plant set neere to him long flourisheth.
The heauie-headed Plane-tree, by whose shade
The grasse growes thickest, men are fresher made.
The Oake, that best endures the Thunder-shocks
The euerlasting Ebene, Cedar, Box.
The Oliue that in Wainscot neuer cleaues.
The amorous Vine which in the Elme still weaues.
66
The Pyne, with whom men through the Ocean venter.
The warlike Yewgh, by which (more then the Lance)
The strong-arm'd English spirits conquer'd France.
Amongst the rest the Tamariske there stood,
For Huswiues bosomes onely knowne most good.
The cold-place-louing Birch, and Seruis tree:
The Walnut louing vales, and Mulbury.
The Maple, Ashe; that doe delight in Fountaines,
Which haue their currents by the sides of Mountains.
The Laurell, Mirtle, Iuy, Date, which hold
Their leaues all Winter, be it ne'er so cold.
The Firre, that oftentimes doth Rosin drop:
The Beech that scales the Welkin with his top:
All these, and thousand more within this Groue,
By all the industry of Nature stroue
To frame an Harbour that might keepe within it
The best of beauties that the world hath in it.
Here entring, at the entrance of which shroud,
The Sunne halfe angry hid him in a cloud,
As raging that a Groue should from his sight
Locke vp a beauty whence himselfe had light.
The flowers pull'd in their heads as being sham'd
Their beauties by the others were defam'd.
The Sunne halfe angry hid him in a cloud,
As raging that a Groue should from his sight
Locke vp a beauty whence himselfe had light.
The flowers pull'd in their heads as being sham'd
Their beauties by the others were defam'd.
Neere to this Wood there lay a pleasant Mead,
Where Fairies often did their Measures tread,
Which in the Meadow made such circles g[r]eene,
As if with Garlands it had crowned beene,
Or like the Circle where the Signes we tracke,
And learned Shepherds call't the Zodiacke:
Within one of these rounds was to be seene
A Hillocke rise, where oft the Fairy-Queene
At twy-light sate, and did command her Elues,
To pinch those Maids that had not swept their shelues:
And further if by Maidens ouer-sight,
Within doores water were not brought at night:
Or if they spread no Table, set no Bread,
They should haue nips from toe vnto the head:
And for the Maid that had perform'd each thing,
She in the Water-paile bade leaue a Ring.
Where Fairies often did their Measures tread,
Which in the Meadow made such circles g[r]eene,
As if with Garlands it had crowned beene,
Or like the Circle where the Signes we tracke,
And learned Shepherds call't the Zodiacke:
Within one of these rounds was to be seene
A Hillocke rise, where oft the Fairy-Queene
At twy-light sate, and did command her Elues,
To pinch those Maids that had not swept their shelues:
And further if by Maidens ouer-sight,
Within doores water were not brought at night:
67
They should haue nips from toe vnto the head:
And for the Maid that had perform'd each thing,
She in the Water-paile bade leaue a Ring.
Vpon this Hill there sat a louely Swaine,
As if that Nature thought it great disdaine
That he should (so through her his Genius told him)
Take equall place with Swaines, since she did hold him
Her chiefest worke, and therefore thought it fit,
That with inferiours he should neuer sit.
Narcissus change, sure Ouid cleane mistooke,
He dy'd not looking in a Crystall brooke,
But (as those which in emulation gaze)
He pinde to death by looking on this face.
When he stood fishing by some Riuers brim,
The fish would leape, more for a sight of him
Then for the flie. The Eagle highest bred,
Was taking him once vp for Ganimed.
The shag-haird Satyres, and the tripping Fawnes,
With all the troope that frolicke on the Lawnes,
Would come and gaze on him, as who should say
They had not seene his like this many a day.
Yea Venus knew no difference twixt these twaine,
Saue Adon was a Hunter, this a Swaine.
The woods sweet Queristers from spray to spray
Would hop them neerer him, and then there stay:
Each ioying greatly from his little hart,
That they with his sweet Reed might beare a part:
This was the Boy, (the Poets did mistake)
To whom bright Cynthia so much loue did make;
And promis'd for his loue no scornfull eyes
Should euer see her more in horned guize:
But she at his command would as of dutie
Become as full of light as he of beautie.
Lucina at his birth for Mid-wife stucke:
And Citherea nurc'd and gaue him sucke,
Who to that end, once Doue-drawne from the Sea,
Her full Paps dropt, whence came the Milkie-way.
And as when Plato did i'th' Cradle thriue,
Bees to his lips brought honey from their Hiue:
So to this Boy they came, I know not whether
They brought, or from his lips did honey gather.
The Wood-Nymphs oftentimes would busied be,
And plucke for him the blushing Strawberie:
Making of them a Bracelet on a Bent,
Which for a fauour to this Swaine they sent.
Sitting in shades, the Sunne would oft by skips
Steale through the boughes, and seize vpon his lips.
The chiefest cause the Sunne did condescend
To Phaetons request, was to this end,
That whilst the other did his Horses reyne,
He might slide from his Spheare, & court this Swaine;
Whose sparkling eyes vi'd lustre with the Starres,
The truest Center of all Circulars.
In briefe, if any man in skill were able
To finish vp Apelles halfe-done Table,
This Boy (the man left out) were fittest sure
To be the patterne of that portraiture.
As if that Nature thought it great disdaine
That he should (so through her his Genius told him)
Take equall place with Swaines, since she did hold him
Her chiefest worke, and therefore thought it fit,
That with inferiours he should neuer sit.
Narcissus change, sure Ouid cleane mistooke,
He dy'd not looking in a Crystall brooke,
But (as those which in emulation gaze)
He pinde to death by looking on this face.
When he stood fishing by some Riuers brim,
The fish would leape, more for a sight of him
Then for the flie. The Eagle highest bred,
Was taking him once vp for Ganimed.
The shag-haird Satyres, and the tripping Fawnes,
With all the troope that frolicke on the Lawnes,
Would come and gaze on him, as who should say
They had not seene his like this many a day.
Yea Venus knew no difference twixt these twaine,
Saue Adon was a Hunter, this a Swaine.
The woods sweet Queristers from spray to spray
Would hop them neerer him, and then there stay:
Each ioying greatly from his little hart,
That they with his sweet Reed might beare a part:
This was the Boy, (the Poets did mistake)
To whom bright Cynthia so much loue did make;
And promis'd for his loue no scornfull eyes
Should euer see her more in horned guize:
But she at his command would as of dutie
Become as full of light as he of beautie.
Lucina at his birth for Mid-wife stucke:
And Citherea nurc'd and gaue him sucke,
68
Her full Paps dropt, whence came the Milkie-way.
And as when Plato did i'th' Cradle thriue,
Bees to his lips brought honey from their Hiue:
So to this Boy they came, I know not whether
They brought, or from his lips did honey gather.
The Wood-Nymphs oftentimes would busied be,
And plucke for him the blushing Strawberie:
Making of them a Bracelet on a Bent,
Which for a fauour to this Swaine they sent.
Sitting in shades, the Sunne would oft by skips
Steale through the boughes, and seize vpon his lips.
The chiefest cause the Sunne did condescend
To Phaetons request, was to this end,
That whilst the other did his Horses reyne,
He might slide from his Spheare, & court this Swaine;
Whose sparkling eyes vi'd lustre with the Starres,
The truest Center of all Circulars.
In briefe, if any man in skill were able
To finish vp Apelles halfe-done Table,
This Boy (the man left out) were fittest sure
To be the patterne of that portraiture.
Piping he sate, as merry as his looke,
And by him lay his Bottle and his Hooke.
His buskins (edg'd with siluer) were of silke,
Which held a legge more white then mornings milk.
Those Buskins he had got and brought away
For dancing best vpon the Reuell day:
His Oaten Reede did yeeld forth such sweet Notes,
Ioyned in consort with the Birds shrill throtes,
That equaliz'd the Harmony of Spheares,
A Musicke that would rauish choicest eares.
Long look'd they on (who would not long looke on,
That such an obiect had to looke vpon?)
Till at the last the Nymph did Marine send,
To aske the neerest way, whereby to wend
To those faire walkes where sprung Marina's ill
Whilst she would stay: Marine obey'd her will,
And hastned towards him (who would not doe so,
That such a pretty iourney had to goe?)
Sweetly she came, and with a modest blush,
Gaue him the day, and then accosted thus:
And by him lay his Bottle and his Hooke.
His buskins (edg'd with siluer) were of silke,
Which held a legge more white then mornings milk.
Those Buskins he had got and brought away
For dancing best vpon the Reuell day:
His Oaten Reede did yeeld forth such sweet Notes,
Ioyned in consort with the Birds shrill throtes,
That equaliz'd the Harmony of Spheares,
A Musicke that would rauish choicest eares.
Long look'd they on (who would not long looke on,
That such an obiect had to looke vpon?)
Till at the last the Nymph did Marine send,
To aske the neerest way, whereby to wend
69
Whilst she would stay: Marine obey'd her will,
And hastned towards him (who would not doe so,
That such a pretty iourney had to goe?)
Sweetly she came, and with a modest blush,
Gaue him the day, and then accosted thus:
Fairest of men, that (whilst thy flocke doth feed)
Sitt'st sweetly piping on thine Oaten Reed
Vpon this Little berry (some ycleep
A Hillocke) void of care, as are thy sheepe
Deuoid of spots, and sure on all this greene
A fairer flocke as yet was neuer seene:
Doe me this fauour (men should fauour Maids)
That whatsoeuer path directly leads,
And void of danger, thou to me doe show,
That by it to the Marish I might goe.
Mariage! (quoth he) mistaking what she said,
Natures perfection: thou most fairest Maid,
(If any fairer then the fairest may be)
Come sit thee downe by me; know louely Ladie,
Loue is the readiest way: if tane aright
You may attaine thereto full long ere night.
The Maiden thinking he of Marish spoke,
And not of Mariage, straight-way did inuoke,
And praid the Shepheards God might alwaies keepe
Him from all danger, and from Wolues his sheepe.
Wishing withall that in the prime of Spring
Each sheepe he had, two Lambs might yeerely bring.
But yet (quoth she) arede good gentle Swaine,
If in the Dale below, or on yond Plaine;
Or is the Village situate in a Groue,
Through which my way lies, and ycleeped loue?
Nor on yond Plaine, nor in this neighbouring wood;
Nor in the Dale where glides the siluer flood;
But like a Beacon on a hill so hie,
That euery one may see't which passeth by,
Is Loue yplac'd: ther's nothing can it hide,
Although of you as yet 'tis vnespide.
But on which hill (quoth she) pray tell me true?
Why here (quoth he) it sits and talkes to you.
And are you Loue (quoth she?) fond Swaine adue,
You guide me wrong, my way lies not by you.
Though not your way, yet you may lye by me:
Nymph, with a Shepherd thou as merrily
Maist loue and liue, as with the greatest Lord.
“Greatnesse doth neuer most content afford.
I loue thee onely, not affect worlds pelfe,
“She is not lou'd, that's lou'd not for her selfe.
How many Shepherds daughters, who in dutie
To griping fathers haue inthral'd their beautie,
To wait vpon the Gout, to walke when pleases
Old Ianuary halt. O that diseases
Should linke with youth: She that hath such a mate
Is like two twins borne both incorporate:
Th' one liuing, th' other dead: the liuing twin
Must needs be slaine through noysomnesse of him
He carrieth with him: such are their estates,
Who meerely marry wealth and not their mates.
Sitt'st sweetly piping on thine Oaten Reed
Vpon this Little berry (some ycleep
A Hillocke) void of care, as are thy sheepe
Deuoid of spots, and sure on all this greene
A fairer flocke as yet was neuer seene:
Doe me this fauour (men should fauour Maids)
That whatsoeuer path directly leads,
And void of danger, thou to me doe show,
That by it to the Marish I might goe.
Mariage! (quoth he) mistaking what she said,
Natures perfection: thou most fairest Maid,
(If any fairer then the fairest may be)
Come sit thee downe by me; know louely Ladie,
Loue is the readiest way: if tane aright
You may attaine thereto full long ere night.
The Maiden thinking he of Marish spoke,
And not of Mariage, straight-way did inuoke,
And praid the Shepheards God might alwaies keepe
Him from all danger, and from Wolues his sheepe.
Wishing withall that in the prime of Spring
Each sheepe he had, two Lambs might yeerely bring.
But yet (quoth she) arede good gentle Swaine,
If in the Dale below, or on yond Plaine;
Or is the Village situate in a Groue,
Through which my way lies, and ycleeped loue?
Nor on yond Plaine, nor in this neighbouring wood;
Nor in the Dale where glides the siluer flood;
But like a Beacon on a hill so hie,
That euery one may see't which passeth by,
70
Although of you as yet 'tis vnespide.
But on which hill (quoth she) pray tell me true?
Why here (quoth he) it sits and talkes to you.
And are you Loue (quoth she?) fond Swaine adue,
You guide me wrong, my way lies not by you.
Though not your way, yet you may lye by me:
Nymph, with a Shepherd thou as merrily
Maist loue and liue, as with the greatest Lord.
“Greatnesse doth neuer most content afford.
I loue thee onely, not affect worlds pelfe,
“She is not lou'd, that's lou'd not for her selfe.
How many Shepherds daughters, who in dutie
To griping fathers haue inthral'd their beautie,
To wait vpon the Gout, to walke when pleases
Old Ianuary halt. O that diseases
Should linke with youth: She that hath such a mate
Is like two twins borne both incorporate:
Th' one liuing, th' other dead: the liuing twin
Must needs be slaine through noysomnesse of him
He carrieth with him: such are their estates,
Who meerely marry wealth and not their mates.
As ebbing waters freely slide away,
To pay their tribute to the raging Sea;
When meeting with the floud they iustle stout,
Whether the one shall in, or th' other out:
Till the strong floud new power of waues doth bring,
And driues the Riuer backe into his Spring:
So Marine's words offring to take their course,
By Loue then entring, were kept backe, and force
To it, his sweet face, eyes, and tongue assign'd,
And threw them backe againe into her minde.
“How hard it is to leaue and not to do
“That which by nature we are prone vnto?
“We hardly can (alas why not?) discusse,
“When Nature hath decreed it must be thus.
“It is a Maxime held of all, knowne plaine,
“Thrust Nature off with forkes, she'll turne againe.
To pay their tribute to the raging Sea;
When meeting with the floud they iustle stout,
Whether the one shall in, or th' other out:
Till the strong floud new power of waues doth bring,
And driues the Riuer backe into his Spring:
So Marine's words offring to take their course,
By Loue then entring, were kept backe, and force
To it, his sweet face, eyes, and tongue assign'd,
And threw them backe againe into her minde.
“How hard it is to leaue and not to do
“That which by nature we are prone vnto?
“We hardly can (alas why not?) discusse,
“When Nature hath decreed it must be thus.
“It is a Maxime held of all, knowne plaine,
71
Blithe Doridon (so men this Shepherd hight)
Seeing his Goddesse in a silent plight,
(“Loue often makes the speeches organs mute,)
Began againe thus to renue his sute:
Seeing his Goddesse in a silent plight,
(“Loue often makes the speeches organs mute,)
Began againe thus to renue his sute:
If by my words your silence hath beene such,
Faith I am sorry I haue spoke so much.
Barre I those lips? fit to be th' vttrers, when
The heauens would parly with the chiefe of men.
Fit to direct (a tongue all hearts conuinces)
When best of Scribes writes to the best of Princes,
Were mine like yours, of choicest words compleatest,
“Ide shew how grief's a thing weighs down the greatest
“The best of formes (who knows not) grief doth taint it,
“The skilfull'st Pēcil neuer yet could paint it.
And reason good, since no man yet could finde
What figure represents a grieued minde.
Me thinkes a troubled thought is thus exprest,
To be a Chaos rude and indigest:
Where all doe rule, and yet none beares chiefe sway:
Checkt onely by a power that's more then they.
This doe I speake, since to this euery louer
That thus doth loue, is thus still giuen ouer.
If that you say you will not, cannot loue:
Oh Heauens! for what cause then do you here moue?
Are you not fram'd of that expertest mold,
For whom all in this Round concordance hold?
Or are you framed of some other fashion,
And haue a forme and heart, but yet no passion?
It cannot be: for then vnto what end
Did the best worke-man this great worke intend?
Not that by minds commerce, and ioynt estate,
The worlds continuers still should propagate?
Yea, if that Reason (Regent of the Senses)
Haue but a part amongst your excellences,
Shee'll tell you what you call Virginitie,
Is fitly lik'ned to a barren tree;
Which when the Gardner on it paines bestowes,
To graffe an Impe thereon, in time it growes
To such perfection, that it yeerely brings
As goodly fruit, as any tree that springs.
Beleeue me Maiden, vow no chastitie:
For maidens but imperfect creatures be.
Faith I am sorry I haue spoke so much.
Barre I those lips? fit to be th' vttrers, when
The heauens would parly with the chiefe of men.
Fit to direct (a tongue all hearts conuinces)
When best of Scribes writes to the best of Princes,
Were mine like yours, of choicest words compleatest,
“Ide shew how grief's a thing weighs down the greatest
“The best of formes (who knows not) grief doth taint it,
“The skilfull'st Pēcil neuer yet could paint it.
And reason good, since no man yet could finde
What figure represents a grieued minde.
Me thinkes a troubled thought is thus exprest,
To be a Chaos rude and indigest:
Where all doe rule, and yet none beares chiefe sway:
Checkt onely by a power that's more then they.
This doe I speake, since to this euery louer
That thus doth loue, is thus still giuen ouer.
If that you say you will not, cannot loue:
Oh Heauens! for what cause then do you here moue?
Are you not fram'd of that expertest mold,
For whom all in this Round concordance hold?
Or are you framed of some other fashion,
And haue a forme and heart, but yet no passion?
It cannot be: for then vnto what end
Did the best worke-man this great worke intend?
Not that by minds commerce, and ioynt estate,
The worlds continuers still should propagate?
Yea, if that Reason (Regent of the Senses)
Haue but a part amongst your excellences,
72
Is fitly lik'ned to a barren tree;
Which when the Gardner on it paines bestowes,
To graffe an Impe thereon, in time it growes
To such perfection, that it yeerely brings
As goodly fruit, as any tree that springs.
Beleeue me Maiden, vow no chastitie:
For maidens but imperfect creatures be.
Alas poore Boy (quoth Marine) haue the Fates
Exempted no degrees? are no estates
Free from Loues rage? Be rul'd: vnhappy Swaine,
Call backe thy spirits, and recollect againe
Thy vagrant wits. I tell thee for a truth
“Loue is a Syren that doth shipwracke youth.
Be well aduis'd, thou entertainst a guest
That is the Harbinger of all vnrest:
VVhich like the Vipers young, that licke the earth,
Eat out the breeders wombe to get a birth.
Exempted no degrees? are no estates
Free from Loues rage? Be rul'd: vnhappy Swaine,
Call backe thy spirits, and recollect againe
Thy vagrant wits. I tell thee for a truth
“Loue is a Syren that doth shipwracke youth.
Be well aduis'd, thou entertainst a guest
That is the Harbinger of all vnrest:
VVhich like the Vipers young, that licke the earth,
Eat out the breeders wombe to get a birth.
Faith (quoth the Boy) I know there cannot be,
Danger in louing or inioying thee.
For what cause were things made and called good,
But to be loued? If you vnderstood
The Birds that prattle here, you would know then,
As birds wooe birds, maids should be woo'd of men.
But I want power to wooe, since what was mine
Is fled, and lye as vassals at your shrine:
And since what's mine is yours, let that same moue,
Although in me you see nought worthy Loue.
Marine about to speake, forth of a sling
(Fortune to all misfortunes plyes her wing
More quicke and speedy) came a sharpned flint,
VVhich in the faire boyes necke made such a dint,
That crimson bloud came streaming from the wound,
And he fell downe into a deadly swound.
The bloud ran all along where it did fall,
And could not finde a place of buriall:
But where it came, it there congealed stood,
As if the Earth loath'd to drinke guiltlesse blood.
Danger in louing or inioying thee.
For what cause were things made and called good,
But to be loued? If you vnderstood
The Birds that prattle here, you would know then,
As birds wooe birds, maids should be woo'd of men.
But I want power to wooe, since what was mine
Is fled, and lye as vassals at your shrine:
And since what's mine is yours, let that same moue,
Although in me you see nought worthy Loue.
Marine about to speake, forth of a sling
(Fortune to all misfortunes plyes her wing
More quicke and speedy) came a sharpned flint,
VVhich in the faire boyes necke made such a dint,
That crimson bloud came streaming from the wound,
And he fell downe into a deadly swound.
The bloud ran all along where it did fall,
And could not finde a place of buriall:
73
As if the Earth loath'd to drinke guiltlesse blood.
Gold-haird Apollo, Muses sacred King,
VVhose praise in Delphos He doth euer ring:
Physickes first founder, whose Arts excellence
Extracted Natures chiefest quintessence,
Vnwilling that a thing of such a worth
Should so be lost; straight sent a Dragon forth
To fetch his bloud, and he perform'd the same:
And now Apothecaries giue it name,
From him that fetcht it: (Doctors know it good
In Physicks vse) and call it Dragons bloud.
Some of the bloud by chance did down-ward fall,
And by a veine got to a Minerall,
VVhence came a Red, decayed Dames infuse it
VVith Venice Ceruse, and for painting vse it.
Marine astonisht (most vnhappy Maid)
O'er-come with feare, and at the view afraid,
Fell downe into a trance, eyes lost their sight,
VVhich being open, made all darknesse light.
Her bloud ran to her heart, of life to feed,
Or lothing to behold so vile a deed.
VVhose praise in Delphos He doth euer ring:
Physickes first founder, whose Arts excellence
Extracted Natures chiefest quintessence,
Vnwilling that a thing of such a worth
Should so be lost; straight sent a Dragon forth
To fetch his bloud, and he perform'd the same:
And now Apothecaries giue it name,
From him that fetcht it: (Doctors know it good
In Physicks vse) and call it Dragons bloud.
Some of the bloud by chance did down-ward fall,
And by a veine got to a Minerall,
VVhence came a Red, decayed Dames infuse it
VVith Venice Ceruse, and for painting vse it.
Marine astonisht (most vnhappy Maid)
O'er-come with feare, and at the view afraid,
Fell downe into a trance, eyes lost their sight,
VVhich being open, made all darknesse light.
Her bloud ran to her heart, of life to feed,
Or lothing to behold so vile a deed.
And as when VVinter doth the Earth array
In siluer sute, and when the night and day
Are in dissention, Night locks vp the ground,
VVhich by the helpe of day is oft vnbound:
A shepherds boy with bow and shafts addrest,
Ranging the fields, hauing once pierc'd the brest
Of some poore fowle, doth with the blow straight rush
To catch the Bird lyes panting in the Bush:
So rusht this striker in, vp Marine tooke,
And hastned with her to a neare-hand Brooke.
Old Shepherds saine (old shepherds sooth haue saine)
Two Riuers tooke their issue from the Maine,
Both neere together, and each bent his race,
VVhich of them both should first behold the face
Of Radiant Phœbus: One of them in gliding
Chanc'd on a Veine where Niter had abiding:
The other loathing that her purer Waue
Should be defil'd with that the Niter gaue,
Fled fast away, the other follow'd fast,
Till both beene in a Rocke ymet at last.
As seemed best, the Rocke did first deliuer
Out of his hollow sides the purer Riuer:
(As if it taught those men in honour clad,
To helpe the vertuous and suppresse the bad.)
Which gotten loose, did softly glide away.
As men from earth, to earth; from sea to sea;
So Riuers run: and that from whence both came
Takes what she gaue: Waues, Earth: but leaues a name.
As waters haue their course, & in their place
Succeeding streames will out, so is mans race:
The Name doth still suruiue, and cannot die,
Vntill the Channels stop, or Spring grow dry.
In siluer sute, and when the night and day
Are in dissention, Night locks vp the ground,
VVhich by the helpe of day is oft vnbound:
A shepherds boy with bow and shafts addrest,
Ranging the fields, hauing once pierc'd the brest
Of some poore fowle, doth with the blow straight rush
To catch the Bird lyes panting in the Bush:
So rusht this striker in, vp Marine tooke,
And hastned with her to a neare-hand Brooke.
Old Shepherds saine (old shepherds sooth haue saine)
Two Riuers tooke their issue from the Maine,
Both neere together, and each bent his race,
VVhich of them both should first behold the face
74
Chanc'd on a Veine where Niter had abiding:
The other loathing that her purer Waue
Should be defil'd with that the Niter gaue,
Fled fast away, the other follow'd fast,
Till both beene in a Rocke ymet at last.
As seemed best, the Rocke did first deliuer
Out of his hollow sides the purer Riuer:
(As if it taught those men in honour clad,
To helpe the vertuous and suppresse the bad.)
Which gotten loose, did softly glide away.
As men from earth, to earth; from sea to sea;
So Riuers run: and that from whence both came
Takes what she gaue: Waues, Earth: but leaues a name.
As waters haue their course, & in their place
Succeeding streames will out, so is mans race:
The Name doth still suruiue, and cannot die,
Vntill the Channels stop, or Spring grow dry.
As I haue seene vpon a Bridall day
Full many Maids clad in their best array,
In honour of the Bride come with their Flaskets
Fill'd full with flowers: others in wicker-baskets
Bring from the Marish Rushes, to o'er-spread
The ground, whereon to Church the Louers tread;
Whilst that the quaintest youth of all the Plaine
Vshers their way with many a piping straine:
So, as in ioy, at this faire Riuers birth,
Triton came vp a Channell with his mirth,
And call'd the neighb'ring Nymphs each in her turne
To poure their pretty Riuilets from their Vrne;
To wait vpon this new-deliuered Spring.
Some running through the Meadowes, with them bring
Cowslip and Mint: and 'tis anothers lot
To light vpon some Gardeners curious knot,
Whence she vpon her brest (loues sweet repose)
Doth bring the Queene of flowers, the English Rose.
Some from the Fenne bring Reeds, Wilde-tyme from Downs;
Some frō a Groue the Bay that Poets crowns;
Some from an aged Rocke the Mosse hath torne,
And leaues him naked vnto winters storme:
Another from her bankes (in meere good will)
Brings nutriment for fish, the Camomill.
Thus all bring somewhat, and doe ouer-spread
The way the Spring vnto the Sea doth tread.
Full many Maids clad in their best array,
In honour of the Bride come with their Flaskets
Fill'd full with flowers: others in wicker-baskets
Bring from the Marish Rushes, to o'er-spread
The ground, whereon to Church the Louers tread;
Whilst that the quaintest youth of all the Plaine
Vshers their way with many a piping straine:
So, as in ioy, at this faire Riuers birth,
Triton came vp a Channell with his mirth,
And call'd the neighb'ring Nymphs each in her turne
To poure their pretty Riuilets from their Vrne;
To wait vpon this new-deliuered Spring.
Some running through the Meadowes, with them bring
Cowslip and Mint: and 'tis anothers lot
To light vpon some Gardeners curious knot,
Whence she vpon her brest (loues sweet repose)
Doth bring the Queene of flowers, the English Rose.
75
Some frō a Groue the Bay that Poets crowns;
Some from an aged Rocke the Mosse hath torne,
And leaues him naked vnto winters storme:
Another from her bankes (in meere good will)
Brings nutriment for fish, the Camomill.
Thus all bring somewhat, and doe ouer-spread
The way the Spring vnto the Sea doth tread.
This while the Floud which yet the Rocke vp pent,
And suffered not with iocund merriment
To tread rounds in his Spring, came rushing forth,
As angry that his waues (he thought) of worth
Should not haue libertie, nor helpe the pryme.
And as some ruder Swaine composing ryme,
Spends many a gray Goose quill vnto the handle,
Buries within his socket many a Candle;
Blots Paper by the quire, and dries vp Inke,
As Xerxes Armie did whole Riuers drinke,
Hoping thereby his name his worke should raise
That it should liue vntill the last of dayes:
Which finished, he boldly doth addresse
Him and his workes to vnder-goe the Presse;
When loe (O Fate!) his worke not seeming fit
To walke in equipage with better wit,
Is kept from light, there gnawne by Moathes and wormes,
At which he frets: Right so this Riuer stormes:
But broken forth; As Tauy creepes vpon
The Westerne vales of fertile Albion,
Here dashes roughly on an aged Rocke,
That his entended passage doth vp locke;
There intricately mongst the Woods doth wander,
Losing himselfe in many a wry Meander:
Here amorously bent, clips some faire Mead;
And then disperst in rils, doth measures tread
Vpon her bosome 'mongst her flowry ranks:
There in another place beares downe the banks,
Of some day-labouring wretch: here meets a rill,
And with their forces ioyn'd cuts out a Mill
Into an Iland, then in iocund guise
Suruayes his conquest, lauds his enterprise:
Here digs a Caue at some high Mountaines foot:
There vndermines an Oake, teares vp his root:
Thence rushing to some Country-farme at hand,
Breaks o'er the Yeomans mounds, sweepes from his land
His Haruest hope of Wheat, of Rye, or Pease:
And makes that channell which was Shepherds lease:
Here, as our wicked age doth sacriledge,
Helpes downe an Abbey, then a naturall bridge
By creeping vnder ground he frameth out,
As who should say he either went about
To right the wrong he did, or hid his face,
For hauing done a deed so vile and base:
So ran this Riuer on, and did bestirre
Himselfe, to finde his fellow-Traueller.
And suffered not with iocund merriment
To tread rounds in his Spring, came rushing forth,
As angry that his waues (he thought) of worth
Should not haue libertie, nor helpe the pryme.
And as some ruder Swaine composing ryme,
Spends many a gray Goose quill vnto the handle,
Buries within his socket many a Candle;
Blots Paper by the quire, and dries vp Inke,
As Xerxes Armie did whole Riuers drinke,
Hoping thereby his name his worke should raise
That it should liue vntill the last of dayes:
Which finished, he boldly doth addresse
Him and his workes to vnder-goe the Presse;
When loe (O Fate!) his worke not seeming fit
To walke in equipage with better wit,
Is kept from light, there gnawne by Moathes and wormes,
At which he frets: Right so this Riuer stormes:
But broken forth; As Tauy creepes vpon
The Westerne vales of fertile Albion,
Here dashes roughly on an aged Rocke,
That his entended passage doth vp locke;
There intricately mongst the Woods doth wander,
Losing himselfe in many a wry Meander:
Here amorously bent, clips some faire Mead;
And then disperst in rils, doth measures tread
Vpon her bosome 'mongst her flowry ranks:
There in another place beares downe the banks,
76
And with their forces ioyn'd cuts out a Mill
Into an Iland, then in iocund guise
Suruayes his conquest, lauds his enterprise:
Here digs a Caue at some high Mountaines foot:
There vndermines an Oake, teares vp his root:
Thence rushing to some Country-farme at hand,
Breaks o'er the Yeomans mounds, sweepes from his land
His Haruest hope of Wheat, of Rye, or Pease:
And makes that channell which was Shepherds lease:
Here, as our wicked age doth sacriledge,
Helpes downe an Abbey, then a naturall bridge
By creeping vnder ground he frameth out,
As who should say he either went about
To right the wrong he did, or hid his face,
For hauing done a deed so vile and base:
So ran this Riuer on, and did bestirre
Himselfe, to finde his fellow-Traueller.
But th' other fearing least her noyse might show
What path she took, which way her streams did flow:
As some way-faring man strayes th' row a wood,
Where beasts of prey thirsting for humane bloud
Lurke in their dens, he softly listning goes,
Not trusting to his heeles, treads on his toes:
Dreads euery noise he heares, thinks each small bush
To be a beast that would vpon him rush:
Feareth to dye, and yet his winde doth smother;
Now leaues this path, takes that, then to another:
Such was her course. This feared to be found,
The other not to finde, swels o'er each mound,
Roares, rages, foames, against a mountaine dashes,
And in recoile, makes Meadowes standing plashes:
Yet findes not what he seekes in all his way,
But in despaire runs headlong to the Sea.
This was the cause them by tradition taught,
Why one floud ran so fast, th' other so soft,
Both from one head. Vnto the rougher streame,
(Crown'd by that Meadowes flowry Diadem,
Where Doridon lay hurt) the cruell Swaine
Hurries the Shepherdesse, where hauing laine
Her in a Boat like the Cannowes of Inde,
Some silly trough of wood, or some trees rinde;
Puts from the shoare, and leaues the weeping strand,
Intends an act by water, which the land
Abhorr'd to boulster; yea, the guiltlesse earth
Loath'd to be Mid-wife to so vile a birth.
Which to relate I am inforc'd to wrong
The modest blushes of my Maiden-song.
Then each faire Nymph whom Nature doth endow
With beauties cheeke, crown'd with a shamefast brow;
Whose well-tun'd eares, chast-obiect-louing eyne
Ne'er heard nor saw the workes of Aretine;
Who ne'er came on the Citherean shelfe,
But is as true as Chastitie it selfe;
Where hated Impudence ne'er set her seed;
Where lust lies not vail'd in a virgins weed:
Let her with-draw. Let each young Shepherdling
Walke by, or stop his eare, the whilst I sing.
What path she took, which way her streams did flow:
As some way-faring man strayes th' row a wood,
Where beasts of prey thirsting for humane bloud
Lurke in their dens, he softly listning goes,
Not trusting to his heeles, treads on his toes:
Dreads euery noise he heares, thinks each small bush
To be a beast that would vpon him rush:
Feareth to dye, and yet his winde doth smother;
Now leaues this path, takes that, then to another:
Such was her course. This feared to be found,
The other not to finde, swels o'er each mound,
Roares, rages, foames, against a mountaine dashes,
And in recoile, makes Meadowes standing plashes:
Yet findes not what he seekes in all his way,
But in despaire runs headlong to the Sea.
This was the cause them by tradition taught,
Why one floud ran so fast, th' other so soft,
77
(Crown'd by that Meadowes flowry Diadem,
Where Doridon lay hurt) the cruell Swaine
Hurries the Shepherdesse, where hauing laine
Her in a Boat like the Cannowes of Inde,
Some silly trough of wood, or some trees rinde;
Puts from the shoare, and leaues the weeping strand,
Intends an act by water, which the land
Abhorr'd to boulster; yea, the guiltlesse earth
Loath'd to be Mid-wife to so vile a birth.
Which to relate I am inforc'd to wrong
The modest blushes of my Maiden-song.
Then each faire Nymph whom Nature doth endow
With beauties cheeke, crown'd with a shamefast brow;
Whose well-tun'd eares, chast-obiect-louing eyne
Ne'er heard nor saw the workes of Aretine;
Who ne'er came on the Citherean shelfe,
But is as true as Chastitie it selfe;
Where hated Impudence ne'er set her seed;
Where lust lies not vail'd in a virgins weed:
Let her with-draw. Let each young Shepherdling
Walke by, or stop his eare, the whilst I sing.
But yee, whose bloud, like Kids vpon a plaine,
Doth skip, and dance Lauoltoes in each veine;
Whose brests are swolne with the Venerean game,
And warme your selues at lusts alluring flame;
Who dare to act as much as men dare thinke,
And wallowing lye within a sensuall sinke;
Whose fained gestures doe entrap our youth
With an apparancie of simple truth;
Insatiate gulphs, in your defectiue part
By Art helpe Nature, and by Nature, Art:
Lend me your eares, and I will touch a string
Shall lull your sense asleepe the while I sing.
Doth skip, and dance Lauoltoes in each veine;
Whose brests are swolne with the Venerean game,
And warme your selues at lusts alluring flame;
Who dare to act as much as men dare thinke,
And wallowing lye within a sensuall sinke;
Whose fained gestures doe entrap our youth
With an apparancie of simple truth;
Insatiate gulphs, in your defectiue part
By Art helpe Nature, and by Nature, Art:
Lend me your eares, and I will touch a string
Shall lull your sense asleepe the while I sing.
But stay: me thinkes I heare something in me
That bids me keepe the bounds of modestie;
Sayes, “Each mans voice to that is quickly moued
“Which of himselfe is best of all beloued;
“By vttring what thou knowst lesse glory's got,
“Then by concealing what thou knowest not.
If so, I yeeld to it, and set my rest
Rather to lose the bad, then wrong the best.
My Maiden-Muse flies the lasciuious Swaines,
And scornes to soyle her lines with lustfull straines:
Will not dilate (nor on her fore-head beare
Immodesties abhorred Character)
His shamelesse pryings, his vndecent doings;
His curious searches, his respectlesse wooings:
How that he saw. But what? I dare not breake it,
You safer may conceiue then I dare speake it.
Yet verily had he not thought her dead,
Sh'ad lost, ne'er to be found, her Maiden-head.
That bids me keepe the bounds of modestie;
78
“Which of himselfe is best of all beloued;
“By vttring what thou knowst lesse glory's got,
“Then by concealing what thou knowest not.
If so, I yeeld to it, and set my rest
Rather to lose the bad, then wrong the best.
My Maiden-Muse flies the lasciuious Swaines,
And scornes to soyle her lines with lustfull straines:
Will not dilate (nor on her fore-head beare
Immodesties abhorred Character)
His shamelesse pryings, his vndecent doings;
His curious searches, his respectlesse wooings:
How that he saw. But what? I dare not breake it,
You safer may conceiue then I dare speake it.
Yet verily had he not thought her dead,
Sh'ad lost, ne'er to be found, her Maiden-head.
The rougher streame loathing a thing compacted
Of so great shame, should on his Floud be acted;
(According to our times not well allow'd
In others, what he in himselfe auow'd)
Bent hard his fore-head, furrow'd vp his face,
And danger led the way the boat did trace.
And as within a Landskip that doth stand
Wrought by the Pencill of some curious hand,
We may discry, here meadow, there a wood:
Here standing ponds, and there a running floud:
Here on some mount a house of pleasure vanted,
Where once the roaring Cannon had beene planted:
There on a hill a Swaine pipes out the day,
Out-brauing all the Quiristers of May.
A Hunts-man here followes his cry of hounds,
Driuing the Hare along the fallow grounds:
Whilst one at hand seeming the sport t'allow,
Followes the hounds, and carelesse leaues the Plow.
There in another place some high-rais'd land,
In pride beares out her breasts vnto the strand.
Here stands a bridge, and there a conduit head:
Here round a May-pole some the measures tread:
There boyes the truant play and leaue their booke:
Here stands an Angler with a baited hooke.
There for a Stagge one lurkes within a bough:
Here sits a Maiden milking of her Cow.
There on a goodly plaine (by time throwne downe)
Lies buried in his dust some ancient Towne;
Who now inuillaged, there's onely seene
In his vaste ruines what his state had beene:
And all of these in shadowes so exprest
Make the beholders eyes to take no rest.
So for the Swaine the Floud did meane to him
To shew in Nature (not by Art to limbe)
A Tempests rage, his furious waters threat,
Some on this shoare, some on the other beat.
Here stands a Mountaine, where was once a Dale;
There where a Mountaine stood is now a Vale.
Here flowes a billow, there another meets:
Each, on each side the skiffe, vnkindly greets.
The waters vnderneath gan vpward moue,
Wondring what stratagems were wrought aboue:
Billowes that mist the boat, still onward thrust,
And on the Cliffes, as swolne with anger, burst.
All these, and more, in substance so exprest,
Made the beholders thoughts to take no rest.
Horror in triumph rid vpon the waues;
And all the Furies from their gloomy caues
Came houering o're the Boat, summond each sence
Before the fearefull barre of Conscience;
Were guilty all, and all condemned were
To vnder-goe their horrors with despaire.
Of so great shame, should on his Floud be acted;
(According to our times not well allow'd
In others, what he in himselfe auow'd)
Bent hard his fore-head, furrow'd vp his face,
And danger led the way the boat did trace.
And as within a Landskip that doth stand
Wrought by the Pencill of some curious hand,
We may discry, here meadow, there a wood:
Here standing ponds, and there a running floud:
Here on some mount a house of pleasure vanted,
Where once the roaring Cannon had beene planted:
There on a hill a Swaine pipes out the day,
Out-brauing all the Quiristers of May.
A Hunts-man here followes his cry of hounds,
Driuing the Hare along the fallow grounds:
Whilst one at hand seeming the sport t'allow,
Followes the hounds, and carelesse leaues the Plow.
There in another place some high-rais'd land,
In pride beares out her breasts vnto the strand.
79
Here round a May-pole some the measures tread:
There boyes the truant play and leaue their booke:
Here stands an Angler with a baited hooke.
There for a Stagge one lurkes within a bough:
Here sits a Maiden milking of her Cow.
There on a goodly plaine (by time throwne downe)
Lies buried in his dust some ancient Towne;
Who now inuillaged, there's onely seene
In his vaste ruines what his state had beene:
And all of these in shadowes so exprest
Make the beholders eyes to take no rest.
So for the Swaine the Floud did meane to him
To shew in Nature (not by Art to limbe)
A Tempests rage, his furious waters threat,
Some on this shoare, some on the other beat.
Here stands a Mountaine, where was once a Dale;
There where a Mountaine stood is now a Vale.
Here flowes a billow, there another meets:
Each, on each side the skiffe, vnkindly greets.
The waters vnderneath gan vpward moue,
Wondring what stratagems were wrought aboue:
Billowes that mist the boat, still onward thrust,
And on the Cliffes, as swolne with anger, burst.
All these, and more, in substance so exprest,
Made the beholders thoughts to take no rest.
Horror in triumph rid vpon the waues;
And all the Furies from their gloomy caues
Came houering o're the Boat, summond each sence
Before the fearefull barre of Conscience;
Were guilty all, and all condemned were
To vnder-goe their horrors with despaire.
What Muse? what Powre? or what thrice sacred Herse,
That liues immortall in a well-tun'd Verse,
Can lend me such a sight that I might see
A guilty conscience true Anatomie;
That well-kept Register wherein is writ
All ils men doe, all goodnesse they omit?
His pallid feares, his sorrowes, his affrightings;
His late wisht had-I-wists, remorcefull bitings:
His many tortures, his heart-renting paine:
How were his griefes composed in one chaine,
And he by it let downe into the Seas,
Or th' row the Center to th' Antipodes?
He might change Climates, or be barr'd Heauens face;
Yet finde no salue, nor euer change his case.
Feares, sorrowes, tortures, sad affrights, nor any,
Like to the Conscience sting, though thrice as many;
Yet all these torments by the Swaine were borne.
Whilst Deaths grim visage lay vpon the storme.
That liues immortall in a well-tun'd Verse,
Can lend me such a sight that I might see
A guilty conscience true Anatomie;
80
All ils men doe, all goodnesse they omit?
His pallid feares, his sorrowes, his affrightings;
His late wisht had-I-wists, remorcefull bitings:
His many tortures, his heart-renting paine:
How were his griefes composed in one chaine,
And he by it let downe into the Seas,
Or th' row the Center to th' Antipodes?
He might change Climates, or be barr'd Heauens face;
Yet finde no salue, nor euer change his case.
Feares, sorrowes, tortures, sad affrights, nor any,
Like to the Conscience sting, though thrice as many;
Yet all these torments by the Swaine were borne.
Whilst Deaths grim visage lay vpon the storme.
But as when some kinde Nurse doth long time keep
Her pretty babe at sucke, whom falne asleepe
She layes downe in his Cradle, stints his cry
With many a sweet and pleasing Lullaby;
Whilst the sweet childe, not troubled with the shock,
As sweetly slumbers, as his Nurse doth rocke:
So lay the Maid, th' amazed Swaine sate weeping,
And death in her was dispossest by sleeping.
The roaring voyce of winds, the billowes raues;
Nor all the muttring of the sullen waues
Could once disquiet, or her slumber stirre:
But lull'd her more asleepe then wakened her.
Such are their states, whose soules from foule offence
Enthroned sit in spotlesse Innocence.
Where rest my Muse; till (iolly Shepheards Swaines)
Next morne with Pearles of dew bedecks our plaines
Wee'll fold our flockes, then in fit time goe on
To tune mine Oaten pipe for Doridon.
Her pretty babe at sucke, whom falne asleepe
She layes downe in his Cradle, stints his cry
With many a sweet and pleasing Lullaby;
Whilst the sweet childe, not troubled with the shock,
As sweetly slumbers, as his Nurse doth rocke:
So lay the Maid, th' amazed Swaine sate weeping,
And death in her was dispossest by sleeping.
The roaring voyce of winds, the billowes raues;
Nor all the muttring of the sullen waues
Could once disquiet, or her slumber stirre:
But lull'd her more asleepe then wakened her.
Such are their states, whose soules from foule offence
Enthroned sit in spotlesse Innocence.
Where rest my Muse; till (iolly Shepheards Swaines)
Next morne with Pearles of dew bedecks our plaines
Wee'll fold our flockes, then in fit time goe on
To tune mine Oaten pipe for Doridon.
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