Scillaes Metamorphosis: Enterlaced with the vnfortunate loue of Glaucus VVhereunto is annexed the delectable discourse of the discontented Satyre: with sundrie other most absolute Poems and Sonnets. Contayning the detestable tyrannie of Disdaine, and Comicall triumph of Constancie: Verie fit for young Courtiers to peruse, and coy Dames to remember. By Thomas Lodge |
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The Discontented Satyre written by Thomas Lodge Gent.
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 | Scillaes Metamorphosis: Enterlaced with the vnfortunate loue of Glaucus |  |
The Discontented Satyre written by Thomas Lodge Gent.
Such time as from her Mothers tender lapThe night arose, guarded with gentle winds:
And with her precious dew refresht the sap
Of bloome and barke (whilst that her mantle blinds
The vaile of heauen) and euery bird was still
Saue Philomele, that did bemoane her ill.
When in the West Orion lift aloft
His starrie crest, and smil'd vpon the Twins;
And Cynthia seemely bright (whose eie full oft
Had watcht her loue) with radient light begins
To pierce the vaile of silence with her beames,
Sporting with wanton cleere on Ocean streames.
When little winds in beating of their wings,
Did wooe the eies to leaue their wonted wake,
And all was husht saue Zephyrus, that sings
With louely breathings for the Sea-nimphs sake:
My watchfull griefes perplext my minde so sore,
That foorth I walkt my sorrowes to deplore.
The doaly season that resembled well
My drooping heart, gaue life to my lament:
Each twinckling lamp that in the heauens did dwell
Gan rest his course to hearken mine entent:
Foorth went I still deuising on my feare
Distinguishing each footestep with a teare.
My working thought deluding of my pace,
At last did bring me to a desart dale,
(By enuious mountaines robd of Phœbus face)
Where growes no hearb to taste of deaws auaile,
In midst thereof, vpon a bed of mosse
A Satyre did his restles bodie tosse.
That were in view; his bushie lockes vndrest
With terror hang, his hauiour horror yeelds,
And with the sight my sorrowes were supprest;
So, neere I drewe, when sodenly he roase,
And thus in tearmes his purpose did disclose.
Blush daies eternall lampe to see thy lot,
Since that thy cleere with cloudy darkes is scard;
Lowre on faire Cinthia for I like thee not;
For borrowed beauties, merit no regard:
Boast Discontent, naught may depresse thy powre,
Since in thy selfe all griefe thou doost deuoure.
Thou art the God whome I alone adore
Whose powre includeth discords all in one,
Confusions are thy foode and fatall store,
Thy name is feard where thou art most vnknowne;
Thy grace is great, for fortunes laugh and lowre
Assailes them not, that glorie in thy powre.
The minde through thee diuines on endlesse things,
And formes a Heauen through others fond mislikes;
Time loathes thy haunt, yet lends thee many wings:
Refined wits against thy bulwarke strikes;
And when their curious thoughts are ouerpast,
They scorne their bookes, and like thy bent at last.
For who but thou can yeeld them any gaine?
Depriue the world of perfect Discontent;
All glories end, true honor straight is slaine,
And life it selfe in errors course is spent,
All toile dooth sort but to a sorrie end,
For through mislikes, each learnes for to commend.
What made fierce Phillips sonne to manage armes,
To vaile the pride of Persia by his sword,
But thou my God, that he by others harmes
Might raise his seate: and thereby still afford
A cause of discontent to them that lost,
And hate in him that by their powre was crost.
How deere he loues his best esteemed friends:
For were not some of purpose ouerthrowne,
Who may discerne whereto true fauor tends:
Thus Princes discontent dooth honor some,
And others through their hates to credit come.
Without thy helpe the Soldier shunnes the feeld:
You studeous Arts how fatall haps had you,
If discontents did not some succors yeeld?
Oh fleeting Fame who could thy grace pursue:
Did not my God send emulations out
To whet the wits and pens of Pallas rout,
How could the Heauens haue retrograde aspects
Without thy helpe? How might the Plannets finde
Their oppositions, and their strange effects,
Unlesse thy powre assisted euerie kinde?
The aire by thee at first inuented voice,
Which once reuerberate, straight yeelds a noice.
The pencile man that with a careles hand
Hath shaddowed Venus, hates his slack regard;
And all amaz'd doth discontented stand,
And mends the same that he before had mard:
Who sees not then that it was Discontent,
That sight to eie, and perfect iudgement lent?
The schooleman that with heedlesse florish writes,
Refines his fault, if thou direct his eie:
And then againe with wonder he endites
Such sweete sententious lines, as neuer die:
Lost in my selfe in praising of thy might,
My speech yeelds vp his office to delight.
This said he smil'd, and on his restles bed
Reposde and tost his indisposed lims:
A world of thoughts still hammerd in his head,
Now would he sleepe, and straight his couch he trims:
And then he walkes, and therewith sits him downe:
And faines to sing, yet endeth with a frowne.
And sought to suck the soule from out his lips,
His rare discourse such wondrous ioye affords:
But vnawares, like lightfoote Fawne he trips
Along the lawnes: and I with watch forespent,
Drew home and vowde to honor Discontent.
Thomas Lodge.
FINIS.
| Scillaes Metamorphosis: Enterlaced with the vnfortunate loue of Glaucus | |