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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
Browne, William (1590- ca. 1645)

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THE FIRST VOLUME, THE SECOND VOLUME.
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Britannia's PASTORALS.
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The first Booke.
  
TO THE NO LESSE ENOBLED BY VERTVE, THEN ANCIENT In Nobilitie, the Right Honorable Edvvard Lord Zouch, Saint-Maure, and Cantelupe, and one of his Maiesties most Honourable Privie Covncell.
  
To the Reader.
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[Commendatory Verses.]
  
By the Same.
  
To his Friend the Avthor.
  
To his Ingenious and worthy Friend the Avthor.
  
On him; a Pastorall Ode to his fairest Shepheardesse.
  
To his Friend the Avthor vpon his Poem.
  
To his Friend the Author.
  
To the Avthor.
  
To the Avthor.
  
[Euterpe to her deerest Darling W. B.
  
Carmina amo, mihi Wille placet tua fistula: fælix! En re sonant laudes illa, vel illa tuas.
  
On the Author of Britannias Peerlesse Pastoralls.
  
On the Same.
  
On the Author of Britannias Peerlesse Pastoralls.
  
Uppon the occasion of Readinge this compleet Poem.
  
To the now unparelleled Sydney of his time, W. B., the ingenuous Author of Brittannia's Pastorals.
  
An Ode entreating him to proceed in the continuation of his Brittannias Pastorals.
  
To the Authour, W. B.
  
On the Author, W. B.
  
To the unparalleled Author of the sequent Poems, W. B.
  
Idem ad Eundem.
  
On the Author of Brittanias Matchlesse (though unfinisht) Pastorals.
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The First Song.
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The Second Song.
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The Third Song.
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The Fovrth Song.
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The Fifth Song.
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The second Booke.
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The third Booke.
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THE SHEPHEARDS PIPE.
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THE INNER TEMPLE MASQUE.
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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS

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Hither Marinda all in haste came running,
And with her teares desir'd the old mans cunning.
When this good man (as goodnesse still is prest
At all assayes to helpe a wight distrest)
As glad and willing was to ease her sonne,
As she would euer ioy to see it done.
And giuing her a salue in leaues vp bound;
And she directed how to cure the wound,
With thanks, made home-wards, (longing still to see
Th' effect of this good Hermits Surgerie)
There carefully, her sonne laid on a bed,
(Enriched with the bloud he on it shed)
She washes, dresses, bindes his wound (yet sore)
That grieu'd, it could weepe bloud for him no more.
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