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 |  |
His sorrowe this waye yet had further gone,
For now his soule, all in confusion,
Discharg'd her passions on all things she mett,
And (rather then on none) on counterfett.
For in her suff'rings she will sooner frame
Subjects fantasticall, formes without name,
Deceave ytselfe against her owne conceite,
Then want to worke on somwhat thought of weight.
Hence comes yt, those affections which are tyde
To an inforced bedd, a worthles bride,
(Wanting a lawfull hold) our loving parte
To subjects of lesse worth doth soone convert
Her exercise, which should be nobly free,
Rather on doggs, or dice, then idle be.
For now his soule, all in confusion,
Discharg'd her passions on all things she mett,
And (rather then on none) on counterfett.
For in her suff'rings she will sooner frame
Subjects fantasticall, formes without name,
Deceave ytselfe against her owne conceite,
Then want to worke on somwhat thought of weight.
Hence comes yt, those affections which are tyde
To an inforced bedd, a worthles bride,
(Wanting a lawfull hold) our loving parte
To subjects of lesse worth doth soone convert
Her exercise, which should be nobly free,
Rather on doggs, or dice, then idle be.
Thus on his memory, poor soule, he cast
His exclamations; and the daye had past
With him as sadly as his sighes were true,
And on this subject. When (as if he flewe)
Leap'd from a neere grove (as he thought) a man,
And to th' adjoyning wood as quickly ran;
This stayde his thoughts. And whilst the other fledd,
He rose, scarce knowing why, and followed.
His exclamations; and the daye had past
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And on this subject. When (as if he flewe)
Leap'd from a neere grove (as he thought) a man,
And to th' adjoyning wood as quickly ran;
This stayde his thoughts. And whilst the other fledd,
He rose, scarce knowing why, and followed.
It was a gentle swayne, on whose sweet youth
Fortune had throwne her worst, and all men's ruth;
Whoe, like a Satyre now, from men's aboade
The uncouth pathes of gloomy deserts trode;
Deepe, sullen vales, that never mercy wonne,
To have a kinde looke from the powrefull sun;
But mantled up in shades as fearefull night,
Could merry hearts with awfull terror smyte.
Sadd nookes and dreadfull clefts of mighty rocks
That knewe noe gueste within their careles locks,
But banefull serpents, hated beasts of prey,
And fatall fowle, that from the blessed daye
Hidd their abhorred heads; these, only these,
Were his companyons and his cottages.
Fortune had throwne her worst, and all men's ruth;
Whoe, like a Satyre now, from men's aboade
The uncouth pathes of gloomy deserts trode;
Deepe, sullen vales, that never mercy wonne,
To have a kinde looke from the powrefull sun;
But mantled up in shades as fearefull night,
Could merry hearts with awfull terror smyte.
Sadd nookes and dreadfull clefts of mighty rocks
That knewe noe gueste within their careles locks,
But banefull serpents, hated beasts of prey,
And fatall fowle, that from the blessed daye
Hidd their abhorred heads; these, only these,
Were his companyons and his cottages.
Wayfaring man, for aftertymes y-bore,
Who-ere thou be, that on the pleasant shore
Of my deare Tavy hapst to treade along,
When Willy sings noe more his rurall song,
But long dissolv'd to dust, shall hardly have
A teare or verse bestow'd upon his grave—
Thincke on that hapless ladd, for all his meed,
Whoe first this laye tun'd to an oaten reed;
Then aske the swaynes who, in the valleys deepe,
Sing layes of love and feed their harmles sheepe,
Aske them for Ramsham (late a gallant wood
Whose gaudye nymphes, tripping beside the floode,
Allur'd the sea gods from their brackish strands
To courte the beautyes of the upper lands).
And neere to yt, halfwaye, a high-brow'd hill,
Whose mayden sydes nere felt a coulter's ill,
Thou mayst beholde, and (if thou list) admire
An arched cave cutt in a rock intire,
Deepe, hollowe, hideous, overgrowne with grasse,
With thornes and bryers, and sadd mandragoras:
Poppy and henbane therby grewe so thicke,
That had the earth been thrice as lunaticke
As learn'd Copernicus in sport would frame her,
We there had sleepy simples founde to tame her.
Who-ere thou be, that on the pleasant shore
Of my deare Tavy hapst to treade along,
When Willy sings noe more his rurall song,
But long dissolv'd to dust, shall hardly have
A teare or verse bestow'd upon his grave—
Thincke on that hapless ladd, for all his meed,
Whoe first this laye tun'd to an oaten reed;
Then aske the swaynes who, in the valleys deepe,
Sing layes of love and feed their harmles sheepe,
Aske them for Ramsham (late a gallant wood
Whose gaudye nymphes, tripping beside the floode,
Allur'd the sea gods from their brackish strands
To courte the beautyes of the upper lands).
And neere to yt, halfwaye, a high-brow'd hill,
Whose mayden sydes nere felt a coulter's ill,
132
An arched cave cutt in a rock intire,
Deepe, hollowe, hideous, overgrowne with grasse,
With thornes and bryers, and sadd mandragoras:
Poppy and henbane therby grewe so thicke,
That had the earth been thrice as lunaticke
As learn'd Copernicus in sport would frame her,
We there had sleepy simples founde to tame her.
The entrance to yt was of brick and stone,
Brought from the ruyn'd towre of Babilon.
On either syde the doore a pillar stood,
Whereon of yore, before the generall flood,
Industrious Seth in characters did score
The mathematicks soule-inticing lore.
Brought from the ruyn'd towre of Babilon.
On either syde the doore a pillar stood,
Whereon of yore, before the generall flood,
Industrious Seth in characters did score
The mathematicks soule-inticing lore.
Cheeke-swolne Lyœus neere one pillar stoode,
And from each hand a bunche, full with the blood
Of the care-killing vyne, he crushed out,
Like to an artificial water-spout;
But of what kinde yt was, the writers vary:
Some say 'twas clarett, others sweare canary.
On th' other syde, a statue strangely fram'd,
And never till Columbus voyage nam'd,
The genius of America blewe forth
A fume that hath bewitched all the north.
And from each hand a bunche, full with the blood
Of the care-killing vyne, he crushed out,
Like to an artificial water-spout;
But of what kinde yt was, the writers vary:
Some say 'twas clarett, others sweare canary.
On th' other syde, a statue strangely fram'd,
And never till Columbus voyage nam'd,
The genius of America blewe forth
A fume that hath bewitched all the north.
A noyse of ballad makers, rymers, drinckers,
Like a madd crewe of uncontrolled tinkers,
Laye there, and druncke, and sung, and suck'd, and writt
Verse without measure, volumes without witt;
Complaints and sonnetts, vowes to yong Cupido,
May be in such a manner as now I doe.
Like a madd crewe of uncontrolled tinkers,
Laye there, and druncke, and sung, and suck'd, and writt
Verse without measure, volumes without witt;
Complaints and sonnetts, vowes to yong Cupido,
May be in such a manner as now I doe.
He that in some faire daye of sommer sees
A little comonwealth of thrifty bees
Send out a pritty colony, to thrive
Another where, from their too-peopled hyve,
And markes the yong adventurers with payne
Fly off and on, and forth, and backe againe,
Maye well conceave with how much labour these
Druncke, writt, and wrongd the learnde Pierides;
Yet tyme, as soone as ere their workes were done,
Threwe them and yt into oblivion.
A little comonwealth of thrifty bees
Send out a pritty colony, to thrive
Another where, from their too-peopled hyve,
And markes the yong adventurers with payne
Fly off and on, and forth, and backe againe,
133
Druncke, writt, and wrongd the learnde Pierides;
Yet tyme, as soone as ere their workes were done,
Threwe them and yt into oblivion.
Into this cave the forlorne shepheard enters,
And Celadyn pursues; yet ere he venters
On such an obscure place, knowing the danger
Which ofte betided there the careles stranger,
Moly or such preservative he takes,
And thus assur'd, breakes through the tangling brakes;
Searcheth each nooke to fynde the haples swayne,
And calls him ofte, yet seekes and calls in vayne.
And Celadyn pursues; yet ere he venters
On such an obscure place, knowing the danger
Which ofte betided there the careles stranger,
Moly or such preservative he takes,
And thus assur'd, breakes through the tangling brakes;
Searcheth each nooke to fynde the haples swayne,
And calls him ofte, yet seekes and calls in vayne.
At last, by glimring of some glowormes there,
He findes a darke hole and a wynding stayre;
Uncouth and hideous the descent appeares,
Yet (unappalld with future chance or feares)
Essays the first stepp, and goes boldly on;
Peeces of rotten wood on each side shone,
Which, rather then to guide his vent'rous pace,
With a more dreadfull horror fill'd the place.
Still he descends. And many a stepp doth make,
As one whose naked foote treads on a snake:
The stayres so worne, he feareth in a trice
To meet some deepe and deadly precipice.
He findes a darke hole and a wynding stayre;
Uncouth and hideous the descent appeares,
Yet (unappalld with future chance or feares)
Essays the first stepp, and goes boldly on;
Peeces of rotten wood on each side shone,
Which, rather then to guide his vent'rous pace,
With a more dreadfull horror fill'd the place.
Still he descends. And many a stepp doth make,
As one whose naked foote treads on a snake:
The stayres so worne, he feareth in a trice
To meet some deepe and deadly precipice.
Thus came he downe into a narrow vaulte,
Whose rocky sides (free from the smallest faulte,
Inforc'd by age or weather) and the roofe
Stood firmely strong and almost thunder-proofe.
'Twas long; and at the farre-off further end
A little lampe he spyes, as he had kend
One of the fixed starres; the light was small,
And distance made yt almost nought at all.
Tow'rds it he came, and (from the swayne which fledd)
These verses falne tooke up, went neere and read:
Whose rocky sides (free from the smallest faulte,
Inforc'd by age or weather) and the roofe
Stood firmely strong and almost thunder-proofe.
'Twas long; and at the farre-off further end
A little lampe he spyes, as he had kend
One of the fixed starres; the light was small,
And distance made yt almost nought at all.
Tow'rds it he came, and (from the swayne which fledd)
These verses falne tooke up, went neere and read:
| The Whole Works of William Browne | |