University of Virginia Library

ii. Eclogue.

[Vhile dayes bright coachman makes our schadows schort]

Syrenus. Montanus.
Sy.
Vhile dayes bright coachman makes our schadows schort,
And panting rests him in his halff dayes course,
Vhile gladder shephards giue them selues to sport,
Let vs deare Montane rest vs by this source,
Vher ve may stanche our thrist vith coldest streames,
And vnder schade be fred of Phebus beames.

M.
Content am I; but since Syluanus left
This earthlie round I neuer like that spring,
The vearie place from me my ioyes hath reft,
Vhen I behold vher he vas vont to sing,
Syluane vell knowne, the honor of our voods,
Vho made the rocks to heare & stayed the floods.

Sy.
Bevaile not Syluane, since he is releu'd
Of flesclie bonds and these our mortal toiles,
Vith sad misfortunes now he is not grieuet.
This earth is framd for deaths triumphing spoiles;
The pleasant leaues, the suetest floures decayes,
And fairest things doth last the fewest dayes.

M.
Th'enuyous heauens, befor the course of time
Stole the from earth for to enrich theer spheares,
Vhile scars thow flourish't in thy youthful prime,
Filling our harts vith voe, our eies vith teares.
Syren, for these deare dayes that heer thow spent,
Stay not my grief but help me to lament.

Sy.
If floods of teares from the elysian plaine
Culd call a happie gost, if sights culd giue
A sparke of lyff, then Phillis schoures of raine
And lasting grones might make him yet to liue.
Yet in remembrance of this orphane place,
And her Il murne, Il sing vith the a space.

M.
A streame of teares, poore riuer christalline,
Len these mine eies; so may along thy banks
Sueet roses, lilies, & the columbine,
In pleasant flourish keep theer statlie ranks,
To vash Syluanus Tombe, that of my sorrow
The floods, the hils, the mids, a part may borrow.

Sy.
Len me the voice that Boreas hath the giuen,
Stracht reachet pin, vhen he his blows redoubles;
So may thy loftie head mont vp to heauen,
& neare heareefter feare his angry troubles,
That my sad accents may surpasse the skies,
& make heuens echoes answer to my cries.

M.
Forests since your best darling now is gone,
Vho your darke schadows suetnet vith his layes,
Teache al your nightingales at once to grone,
Cut your greene lockes, let fal your palmes & bayes,
Let not a mirtil tree be in yow found,
But eurie vher vith cypress sad abound.

Sy.
Faire Midows from vhose tender bosome springs
The vhite Narcissus, Venus deare delight,
The Hyacinth, & others vho var kings
And ladies faire vhen thay enioyd this light,
In mourning blake your princely coulours die,
Bow downe your heads, vhile sighing zephires flee.

M.
Vhat now is left vnto this plane but veeping?
This litil flood that sometime did inuite
Our vearied bodies to sueet rest and sleeping,
Vith his soft murmur semes to vaile our plight,
Telling the rocks, the banks, vheer ere he goes,
& the vyde ocean, our remedlesse voes.

Sy.
As Philomela sight vpon a tree,
Me thocht (for vhat thinks not a troublet mynd?)
Vith her old grieues, amids her harmonie,
Syluanus death, our losse, sche oft combind,
Vherto tuo vidow turtles lent theer eares,
Syne planed that Nature had not giuen them teares.

M.
The earth althocht cold vinter kil her flowres,
And al her beautie eurie vher deface,
Vhen Phebus turnes into his hoter boures,
Made ful of lyff smiles vith her former grace;
But so soone as, alas, mans giuen to death,
No sunne againe doth euer make him breath.

Sy.
The Moone that sadlie cheers the gloomie night,
Vhen sche in deaths blake armes a vhile remaines,
New borne doth soone recev her siluer light
And queenlike glances or the silent plaines;
The stars sunke in the vest again doth rise;
But man, forgot, in vglie horror lies.

M.
Ah souueraine poures, vhen ye did first deuise
To make poore man, vhy brak ye not the molde?
Vith fleschie maskes vhy did ye sprits disguyse?
Caussing a glasse so foole that liquor hold,
Vith cryes & paine him bringing to the light,
Happie t'haue sleepe in a eternal night.

Sy.
Happie t'haue sleepe in a eternal night
& neuer interrup that silent rest,
He felt no voes if he had no delight,
He did not know vhat's euil, of nocht vhat's best;
If he vsd not th'vnperfyt piece of reason,
He feard not voes to come at eurie season.

M.
If that I var againe for to be framd,
& that the heuens vald freelie to me giue
Vhat of the things below I suld be made,
A hart, a doue, I rather choose to liue,
Then be a man, my losses stil lamenting,
Tost first with passion, then vith sore repenting.

Sy.
If I var one of yow my sille lambes,
I suld not beene oprest vith th'vncuth caire
That mankind hath, nor felt the cruel flames
Of Phillis eies, nor knowne vhat vas despaire:
Sueet harmlesse flocke, vhen as ye stray alone,
Ar ye affraid of Styx or Phlegeton?

M.
The mids ar not embled vith so manie floures,
So many hews heuens doth neuer borrow,
So many drops hath not the april schoures,
As ve poore vretchet men hath vorlds of sorrow:
For these, o glorious gifts of noble skies,
Vith bitter teares ye fillet hath our eies.

Sy.
Vith bitter teares ye fillet hath our eies,
And fostreth vith beguiling hope our mind
Vith promist good that doth vs stil intice:
Lo, seeke ve ve vot not vhat, and so mad blind
Ve follow lies and change to taste of ioyes,
But hauing changd ve find but new annoyes.

M.
If lies bred ioyes and vertue bring voe,
Fals thochts be ful of comfort, trewth of sadnesse,
Velcome braue lies of that I neuer know!
Vnhappie trewth to take from me my gladnesse;
For thocht ve veep our voes ve cannot mend them,
& ve may end our selues befor ve end them.