University of Virginia Library

The Fifth Song.

The Argvment.

In Noats that rocks to pittie moue,
Idya sings her buried Loue:
And from her horne of plentie giues
Comfort to Truth, whom none relieues.
Repentance house next cals me on,
With Riots true conuersion:
Leauing Amintas Loue to Truth,
To be the Theame the Muse ensu'th.
Here full of Aprill, vail'd with sorrowes wing,
For louely Layes, I dreary Dirges sing.
Who so hath seene yong Lads (to sport themselues)
Run in a low ebbe to the sandy shelues:
Where seriously they worke in digging wels,
Or building childish sorts of Cockle-shels:
Or liquid water each to other bandy;
Or with the Pibbles play at handy-dandy,
Till vnawares the Tyde hath clos'd them round,
And they must wade it through or else be drown'd,
May (if vnto my Pipe he listen well)
My Muse distresse with theirs soone paralell.
For where I whilome sung the loues of Swaines,
And woo'd the Crystall Currants of the Plaines,
Teaching the Birds to loue, whilst euery Tree
Gaue his attention to my Melodie:
Fate now (as enuying my too-happy Theame)
Hath round begirt my Song with Sorrowes streame,
Which till my Muse wade through and get on shore,
My griefe-swolne Soule can sing of Loue no more.
But turne we now (yet not without remorse)
To heauenly Aletheias sad discourse,
That did from Fida's eyes salt teares exhale,
When thus she shew'd the Solitarie Vale.
Iust in the midst this ioy-forsaken ground
A hillocke stood, with Springs embraced round:
(And with a Crystall Ring did seeme to marry
Themselues, to this small Ile sad-solitarie:)
Vpon whose brest (which trembled as it ran)
Rode the faire downie-siluer-coated Swan:
And on the bankes each Cypresse bow'd his head,
To heare the Swan sing her owne

A. Funerall song before the corps be interred.

Epiced.
As when the gallant youth which liue vpon
The Westerne Downes of louely Albion;
Meeting, some festiuall to solemnize,
Choose out two, skil'd in wrastling exercise,
Who strongly, at the wrist or coller cling,
Whilst arme in arme the people make a Ring.
So did the water round this Ile inlinke,
And so the Trees grew on the waters brinke:
Waters their streames about the Iland scatter;
And Trees perform'd as much vnto the water:
Vnder whose shade the Nightingale would bring
Her chirping young, and teach them how to sing.
The woods most sad, Musitians thither hie,
As it had beene the Siluians Castalie,
And warbled forth such Elegyacke straines,
That strucke the windes dumbe; & the motly plaines
Were fill'd with enuy, that such shady places
Held all the worlds delights in their embraces.
O how (me thinkes) the impes of Mneme bring
Dewes of Inuention from their sacred Spring!
Here could I spend that spring of Poesie,
Which not twice ten Sunnes haue bestow'd on me;
And tell the world, the Muses loue appeares
In nonag'd youth, as in the length of yeares.
But ere my Muse erected haue the frame,
Wherein t'enshrine an vnknowne Shepherds name,
She many a Groue, and other woods must tread,
More Hils, more Dales, more Founts must be displaid,
More Meadowes, Rockes, and from them all elect
Matter befitting such an Architect.
As Children on a play-day leaue the Schooles,
And gladly runne vnto the swimming Pooles,
Or in the thickets, all with nettles stung,
Rush to dispoile some sweet Thrush of her young;
Or with their hats (for fish) lade in a Brooke
Withouten paine: but when the Morne doth looke
Out of the Easterne gates, a Snayle would faster
Glide to the Schooles, then they vnto their Master:
So when before I sung the Songs of Birds,
(Whilst euery moment sweetned lines affords)
I pip'd deuoid of paine, but now I come
Vnto my taske, my Muse is stricken dumbe.
My blubbring pen her sable teares lets fall,
In Characters right Hyrogliphicall,
And mixing with my teares are ready turning,
My late white paper to a weed of mourning;
Or Inke and Paper striue how to impart,
My words, the weeds they wore, within my hart:
Or else the blots vnwilling are my rimes
And their sad cause should liue till after-times;
Fearing if men their subiect should descry,
They forth-with would dissolue in teares and die.
Vpon the Ilands craggy rising hill,
A Quadrant ranne, wherein by Artlesse skill,
At euery corner Nature did erect
A Columne rude, yet void of all defect:
Whereon a Marble lay. The thick-growne Bryer,
And prickled Hawthorne (wouen all entyre)
Together clung, and barr'd the gladsome light
From any entrance, fitting onely night.
No way to it but one, steepe and obscure,
The staires of rugged stone, seldome in vre,
All ouer-growne with Mosse, as Nature sate
To entertaine Griefe with a cloth of State.
Hardly vnto the top I had ascended,
But that the Trees (siding the steps) befriended
My weary limbes, who bowing downe their armes,
Gaue hold vnto my hands to scape from harmes:
Which euermore are ready, still present
Our feet, in climbing places eminent.
Before the doore (to hinder Phœbus view)
A shady Box-tree grasped with an Eugh,
As in the place behalfe they menac'd warre
Against the radiance of each sparkling Star.
And on their barkes (which Time had nigh deprau'd)
These lines (it seem'd) had been of old engrau'd:
This place was fram'd of yore, to be possest
By one which sometime Hath Beene Happiest.
Louely Idya the most beautious
Of all the darlings of Occeanus,
Hesperia's enuy and the Westerne pride,
Whose party-coloured garment Nature dy'd
In more eye-pleasing hewes with richer graine,
Then Iris bow attending Aprils raine.
Whose Lilly white inshaded with the Rose
Had that man seene, who sung th' Eneidos,
Dido had in obliuion slept, and she
Had giu'n his Muse her best eternitie.
Had braue Atrides (who did erst imploy
His force to mix his dead with those of Troy)
Beene proffered for a truce her fained peece
Helen had staid, and that had gone to Greece:
The Phrygian soile had not been drunk with blood,
Achilles longer breath'd, and Troy yet stood:
The Prince of Poets had not sung his story,
My friend had lost his euer-liuing glory.
But as a snowy Swan, who many a day
On Thamar's swelling brests hath had his play,
For further pleasure doth assay to swim
My natiue Tauy, or the sandy Plim:
And on the panting billowes brauely rides,
Whilst Country-lasses walking on the sides,
Admire her beauty, and with clapping hands,
Would force her leaue the streame, and tread the sands,
When she regardlesse swims to th' other edge,
Vntill an enuious Bryer, or tangling Sedge
Dispoyles her Plumes; or else a sharpned Beame
Pierceth her brest, and on the bloudy streame
She pants for life: So whilome rode this Maid
On streames of worldly blisse, more rich arrayd,
With Earths delight, then thought could put in vre,
To glut the senses of an Epicure.
Whilst neighbring Kings vpon their frontires stood,
And offer'd for her dowre huge Seas of blood:
And periur'd Gerion to winne her, rent
The Indian Rockes for gold, and bootlesse spent
Almost his patrimony for her sake,
Yet nothing like respected as the Drake
That skowr'd her Channels, and destroyd the weede,
VVhich spoyld her sisters nets, and fishes breede.
At last her truest loue she threw vpon
A royall Youth, whose like, whose Paragon
Heauen neuer lent the Earth: so great a spirit
The VVorld could not containe, nor kingdomes merit:
And therefore Ioue did with the Saints inthrone him,
And left his Lady nought but teares to mone him.
Within this place (as wofull as my Verse)
She with her Crystall founts bedew'd his Herse,
Inuailed with a sable weed she sate,
Singing this song which stones dissolued at.
If you haue seene at foot of some braue hill,
Two Springs arise, and delicately trill,
In gentle chidings through an humble dale,
(Where tufty Daizies nod at euery gale)
And on the bankes a Swaine (with Lawrell crown'd)
Marying his sweet Notes with their siluer sound:
When as the spongy clouds swolne big with water,
Throw their conception on the worlds Theater:
Downe from the hils the rained waters roare,
Whilst euery leafe drops to augment their store:
Grumbling the stones fall o'er each others backe,
Rending the greene turfes with their

A fall of waters from a very high place.

Cataract,
And through the Meadowes run with such a noise,
That taking from the Swaine the fountaines voice,
Inforce him leaue their margent, and alone
Couple his base Pipe with their baser Tone.

Aletheia to Fida.

Know (Shepherdesse) that so I lent an eare
To those sad wights whose plaints I told whileare:
But when this goodly Lady gan addresse
Her heauenly voyce to sweeten heauinesse,
It drown'd the rest, as torrents little Springs;
And strucken mute at her great sorrowings,
Lay still and wondred at her pitious mone,
Wept at her griefes, and did forget their owne,
Whilst I attentiue sate, and did impart,
Teares when they wanted drops, and from a hart,
As hie in sorrow as e'er creature wore,
Lent thrilling grones to such as had no more.
Had wise Vlysses (who regardlesse flung
Along the Ocean when the Syrens sung)
Pass'd by and seene her on the sea-torne cleeues,
Waile her lost Loue (while Neptunes watry Theeues
Durst not approach for Rockes:) to see her face
He would haue hazarded his Grecian race,
Thrust head-long to the shore, and to her eyes
Offer'd his Vessell as a Sacrifice.
Or had the Syrens on a neighbour shore
Heard in what raping Notes she did deplore
Her buried Glory, they had left their shelues,
And to come neere her would haue drown'd themselues.
Now silence lock'd the organs of that voyce;

Aletheia commeth to Idya.

Whereat each merry Syluan wont reioyce,
When with a bended knee to her I came,
And did impart my griefe and hated name:
But first a pardon begg'd, if that my cause
So much constrain'd me as to breake the Lawes
Of her wish'd sequestration, or ask'd Bread
(To saue a life) from her, whose life was dead:
But lawlesse famine, selfe-consuming hunger,
Alas! compel'd me: had I stayed longer,
My weakned limmes had beene my wants forc'd meed,
And I had fed, on that I could not feed.
When she (compassionate) to my sad mone
Did lend a sigh, and stole it from her owne;
And (wofull Lady wrackt on haplesse shelfe)
Yeelded me comfort, yet had none her selfe:
Told how she knew me well since I had beene,
As chiefest consort of the Fairy Queene;
O happy Queene! for euer, euer praise
Dwell on thy Tombe; the period of all dayes
Onely seale vp thy fame; and as thy Birth
Inrich'd thy Temples on the fading earth,
So haue thy Vertues crown'd thy blessed soule,
Where the first Mouer with his words controule;
As with a girdle the huge Ocean bindes;
Gathers into his fist the nimble Windes;
Stops the bright Courser in his hot careere;
Commands the Moone twelue courses in a yeere:
Liue thou with him in endlesse blisse, while we
Admire all vertues in admiring thee.
Thou, thou, the fautresse of the learned Well,
Thou nursing Mother of Gods Israel;
Thou, for whose louing Truth, the heauens raines
Sweet Mel and Manna on our flowry plaines:
Thou, by whose hand the sacred Trine did bring
Vs out of bonds, from bloody Bonnering.
Ye suckling Babes, for euer blesse that Name
Releas'd your burning in your Mothers flame!
Thrice blessed Maiden, by whose hand was giuen
Free liberty to taste the food of Heauen.
Neuer forget her (Albions louely Daughters)
Which led you to the Springs of liuing Waters!
And if my Muse her glory faile to sing,
May to my mouth my tongue for euer cling!
Herewith (at hand) taking her Horne of Plentie

Idya cherisheth Aletheia.

Fil'd with the choyse of euery Orchards daintie,
As Peares, Plums, Apples, the sweet Raspis-berry,
The Quince, the Apricocke, the blushing Cherry;
The Mulberry (his blacke from Thisbie taking)
The cluster'd Filberd, Grapes oft merry-making.
(This fruitfull Horne th' immortall Ladies fill'd
With all the pleasures that rough Forrests yeeld,
And gaue Idya, with a further blessing,
That thence (as from a Garden) without dressing,
She these should euer haue; and neuer want
Store, from an Orchard without tree or plant.)
With a right willing hand she gaue me, hence,
The Stomackes comforter, the pleasing Quince;
And for the chiefest cherisher she lent
The Royall Thistles milkie nourishment.
Here staid I long: but when to see Aurora
Kisse the perfumed cheekes of dainty Flora,
Without the vale I trod one louely Morne,
With true intention of a quicke returne,
An vnexpected chance stroue to deferre
My going backe, and all the loue of her.
But Maiden see the day is waxen old,
And gins to shut in with the Marigold:
The Neat-herds Kine doe bellow in the yard;
And Dairy Maidens for the milke prepar'd,
Are drawing at the Vdder, long ere now
The Plow-man hath vnyoak't his Teame from plow:
My transformation to a fearefull Hinde
Shall to vnfold a fitter season finde;
Meane while yond Pallace, whose braue Turrets tops,
Ouer the stately Wood suruay the cops,
Promis'th (if sought) a wished place of rest,
Till Sol our Hemisphere haue repossest.
Now must my Muse afford a straine to Riot,
Who almost kild with his luxurious diet,
Lay eating grasse (as dogges) within a wood,
So to disgorge the vndisgested food:
By whom faire Aletheia past along
With Fida Queene of euery shepherds song,
By them vnseene (for he securely lay
Vnder the thicke of many a leauied spray)
And through the leueld Meadowes gently threw
Their neatest feet, washt with refreshing dew,
Where he durst not approach, but on the edge
Of th' hilly wood, in couert of a hedge,
VVent onward with them, trode with them in paces,
And farre off much admir'd their formes and graces.
Into the Plaines at last he headlong venter'd:
But they the hill had got and pallace enter'd.
VVhen, like a valiant well resolued man
Seeking new paths i' th' pathlesse Ocean,
Vnto the shores of monster-breeding Nyle,
Or through the North to the vnpeopled Thyle,
VVhere from the Equinoctiall of the Spring,
To that of Autumne, Titans golden Ring
Is neuer off; and till the Spring againe
In gloomy darknesse all the shoares remaine.
Or if he furrow vp the brynie Sea,
To cast his Ancors in the frozen bay
Of woody Norway; (who hath euer fed
Her people more with scaly fish then bread)
Though ratling mounts of Ice thrust at his Helme,
And by their fall still threaten to o'rewhelme
His little Vessell: and though Winter throw
(What age should on their heads) white caps of Snow;
Striues to congeale his bloud; he cares not for't,
But arm'd in minde, gets his intended port:
So Ryot, though full many doubts arise,
VVhose vnknowne ends might graspe his enterprise,
Climbes towards the Palace, and with gate demure,
VVith hanging head, a voice as faining pure,
With torne and ragged coat, his hairy legs
Bloudy, as scratch'd with Bryers, he entrance begs.
Remembrance sate as Portresse of this gate:
A Lady alwayes musing as she sate,
Except when sometime suddainly she rose,
And with a back-bent eye, at length, she throwes
Her hands to heauen: and in a wondring guize,
Star'd on each obiect with her fixed eyes:
As some way-faring man passing a wood,
(Whose wauing top hath long a Sea-marke stood)
Goes iogging on, and in his minde nought hath,
But how the Primrose finely strew the path,
Or sweetest Violets lay downe their heads
At some trees root on mossie feather-beds,
Vntill his heele receiues an Adders sting,
Whereat he starts, and backe his head doth fling.
She neuer mark'd the sute he did preferre,
But (carelesse) let him passe along by her.
So on he went into a spatious court,
All trodden bare with multitudes resort:
At th' end whereof a second gate appeares,
The Fabricke shew'd full many thousand yeares:
Whose Posterne-key that time a Lady kept,
Her eyes all swolne as if she seldome slept;
And would by fits her golden tresses teare,
And striue to stop her breath with her owne haire:
Her lilly hand (not to be lik'd by Art)
A paire of Pincers held; wherewith her heart
Was hardly grasped, while the piled stones
Re-eccoed her lamentable grones.
Here at this gate the custome long had bin
When any sought to be admitted in,
Remorce thus vs'd them, ere they had the key,
And all these torments felt, pass'd on their way.
When Riot came, the Ladies paines nigh done,
She past the gate; and then Remorce begun
To fetter Riot in strong iron chaines;
And doubting much his patience in the paines.
As when a Smith and's Man (lame Vulcans fellowes)
Call'd from the Anuile or the puffing Bellowes,
To clap a well-wrought shooe (for more then pay)
Vpon a stubborne Nagge of Galloway;
Or vnback'd Iennet, or a Flaunders Mare,
That at the Forge stand snuffing of the ayre;
The swarty Smith spits in his Buckhorne fist,
And bids his Man bring out the fiue-fold twist,
His shackles, shacklocks, hampers, gyues and chaines,
His linked bolts; and with no little paines
These make him fast: and least all these should faulter,
Vnto a poste with some six doubled halter
He bindes his head; yet all are of the least
To curbe the fury of the head-strong beast:
When if a Carriers Iade be brought vnto him,
His Man can hold his foot whilst he can shoe him:
Remorce was so inforc'd to binde him stronger,
Because his faults requir'd infliction longer
Then any sin-prest wight which many a day
Since Iudas hung himselfe had past that way.
When all the cruell torments he had borne,
Galled with chaines, and on the racke nigh torne,
Pinching with glowing pincers his owne heart;
All lame and restlesse, full of wounds and smart,
He to the Posterne creepes, so inward hies,
And from the gate a two-fold path descries,
One leading vp a hill, Repentance way;
And (as more worthy) on the right hand lay:
The other head-long, steepe, and lik'ned well
Vnto the path which tendeth downe to hell:
All steps that thither went shew'd no returning,
The port to paines, and to eternall mourning;
Where certaine Death liu'd, in an Ebon chaire,
The soules blacke homicide meager Despaire
Had his abode: there gainst the craggie rocks
Some dasht their braines out, with relentlesse knocks,
Others on trees (ô most accursed elues)
Are fastening knots, so to vndoe themselues.
Here one in sinne not daring to appeare
At Mercies seat with one repentant teare,
Within his brest was launcing of an eye,
That vnto God it might for vengeance cry:
There from a Rocke a wretch but newly fell,
All torne in pieces, to goe whole to Hell.
Here with a sleepie Potion one thinkes fit
To graspe with death, but would not know of it:
There in a poole two men their liues expire,
And die in water to reuiue in fire.
Here hangs the bloud vpon the guiltlesse stones:
There wormes consume the flesh of humane bones.
Here lyes an arme: a legge there: here a head,
Without other lims of men vnburied,
Scattring the ground, and as regardlesse hurl'd,
As they at vertue spurned in the world.
Fye haplesse wretch, ô thou! whose graces steruing,
Measur'st Gods mercy by thine owne deseruing;
Which cry'st (distrustfull of the power of Heauen)
My sinnes are greater then can be forgiuen:
Which still are ready to curse God and die,
At euery stripe of worldly miserie;
O learne (thou in whose brests the Dragon lurkes)
Gods mercy (euer) is o'er all his workes.
Know he is pitifull, apt to forgiue;
Would not a sinners death, but that he liue.
O euer, euer rest vpon that word
Which doth assure thee, though his two edg'd Sword
Be drawne in Iustice gainst thy sinfull soule,
To separate the rotten from the whole;
Yet if a sacrifice of prayer be sent him,
He will not strike; or if he strike repent him.
Let none despaire: for cursed Iudas sinne
Was not so much in yeelding vp the King
Of life, to death, as when he thereupon
Wholy dispair'd of Gods remission.
Riot, long doubting stood which way were best
To leade his steps: at last preferring rest
(As foolishly he thought) before the paine
Was to be past ere he could well attaine
The high-built Palace; gan aduenture on
That path, which led to all confusion,
When sodainly a voice as sweet as cleere,
With words diuine began entice his eare:
Whereat as in a rapture, on the ground
He prostrate lay, and all his senses found
A time of rest; onely that facultie
Which neuer can be seene, nor euer dye,
That in the essence of an endlesse Nature
Doth sympathize with the All-good Creator,
That onely wak'd which cannot be interr'd
And from a heauenly Quire this ditty heard.
Herewith on leaden wings Sleepe from him flew,
When on his arme he rose, and sadly threw
Shrill acclamations; while an hollow caue,
Or hanging hill, or heauen an answer gaue.
O sacred Essence lightning me this houre!
How may I lightly stile thy great Power?
Ecch.
Power.
Power? but of whence? vnder the green-wood spray.
Or liu'st in heau'n? say.

Ecch.
In Heauens aye.

In heauens aye I tell, may I it obtaine
By almes; by fasting, prayer, by paine.
Ecch.
By paine.

Shew me the paine, 't shall be vndergone:
I to mine end will still goe on.
Ecch.
Goe on.

But whither? On! Shew me the place, the time:
What if the Mountain I do climbe?
Ecch.
Doe; climbe.

Is that the way to ioyes which still endure?
O bid my soule of it be sure!
Ecch.
Be sure.

Then thus assured, doe I climbe the hill,
Heauen be my guide in this thy will.
Ecch.
I will.

As when a maid taught from her mother wing,
To tune her voyce vnto a siluer string,
When she should run, she rests; rests when should run,
And ends her lesson hauing now begun:
Now misseth she her stop, then in her song,
And doing of her best she still is wrong,
Begins againe, and yet againe strikes false,
Then in a chafe forsakes her Virginals,
And yet within an houre she tries anew,
That with her daily paines (Arts chiefest due)
She gaines that charming skill: and can no lesse
Tame the fierce walkers of the wildernesse,
Then that Oeagrin Harpist, for whose lay,
Tigers with hunger pinde and left their pray.
So Riot, when he gan to climbe the hill,
Here maketh haste and there long standeth still,
Now getteth vp a step, then fals againe,
Yet not despairing all his nerues doth straine,
To clamber vp a new, then slide his feet,
And downe he comes: but giues not ouer yet,
For (with the maid) he hopes, a time will be
When merit shall be linkt with industry.
Now as an Angler melancholy standing
Vpon a greene banke yeelding roome for landing,
A wrigling yellow worme thrust on his hooke,
Now in the midst he throwes, then in a nooke:
Here puls his line, there throwes it in againe,
Mendeth his Corke and Bait, but all in vaine,
He long stands viewing of the curled streame;
At last a hungry Pike, or well-growne Breame
Snatch at the worme, and hasting fast away,
He knowing it, a Fish of stubborne sway,
Puls vp his rod, but soft: (as hauing skill)
Wherewith the hooke fast holds the Fishes gill,
Then all his line he freely yeeldeth him,
Whilst furiously all vp and downe doth swim
Th' insnared Fish, here on the top doth scud,
There vnderneath the banks, then in the mud;
And with his franticke fits so scares the shole,
That each one takes his hyde, or starting hole:
By this the Pike cleane wearied vnderneath
A Willow lyes, and pants (if Fishes breath)
Wherewith the Angler gently puls him to him,
And least his haste might happen to vndoe him,
Layes downe his rod, then takes his line in hand,
And by degrees getting the Fish to land,
Walkes to another Poole: at length is winner
Of such a dish as serues him for his dinner:
So when the Climber halfe the way had got,
Musing he stood, and busily gan plot,
How (since the mount did alwaies steeper tend)
He might with steps secure his iourney end.
At last (as wandring Boyes to gather Nuts)
A hooked Pole he from a Hasell cuts;
Now throwes it here, then there to take some hold,
But bootlesse and in vaine, the rockie mold,
Admits no cranny, where his Hasell-hooke
Might promise him a step, till in a nooke
Somewhat aboue his reach he hath espide
A little Oake, and hauing often tride
To catch a bough with standing on his toe,
Or leaping vp, yet not preuailing so;
He rols a stone towards the little tree,
Then gets vpon it, fastens warily
His Pole vnto a bough, and at his drawing
The early rising Crow with clam'rous kawing,
Leauing the greene bough, flyes about the Rocke,
Whilst twenty twenty couples to him flocke:
And now within his reach the thin leaues waue,
With one hand onely then he holds his staue,
And with the other grasping first the leaues,
A pretty bough he in his fist receiues;
Then to his girdle making fast the hooke,
His other hand another bough hath tooke;
His first, a third, and that, another giues,
To bring him to the place where his root liues.
Then, as a nimble Squirrill from the wood,
Ranging the hedges for his Filberd-food,
Sits peartly on a bough his browne Nuts cracking,
And from the shell the sweet white kernell taking,
Till (with their crookes and bags) a sort of Boyes,
(To share with him) come with so great a noyse,
That he is forc'd to leaue a Nut nigh broke,
And for his life leape to a neighbour Oake,
Thence to a Beech, thence to a row of Ashes;
Whilst th' row the Quagmires, and red water plashes,
The Boyes run dabling thorow thicke and thin,
One teares his hose, another breakes his shin,
This, torne and tatter'd, hath with much adoe
Got by the Bryers; and that hath lost his shooe:
This drops his band; that head-long fals for haste;
Another cries behinde for being last:
With sticks and stones, and many a sounding hollow,
The little foole, with no small sport, they follow,
Whilst he, from tree to tree, from spray to spray,
Gets to the wood, and hides him in his Dray:
Such shift made Ryot, ere he could get vp,
And so from bough to bough he won the top,
Though hindrances, for euer comming there,
Were often thrust vpon him by Dispaire.
Now at his feet the stately mountaine lay,
And with a gladsome eye he gan suruay
What perils he had trod on since the time
His weary feet and armes assaid to climbe.
When with a humble voyce (withouten feare,
Though he look'd wilde and ouer-grown with haire)
A gentle Nymph in russet course array,
Comes and directs him onward in his way.
First, brings she him into a goodly Hall,

Description of the house of Repentance.

Faire, yet not beautified with Minerall:
But in a carelesse Art, and artlesse care,
Made, loose neglect, more louely farre then rare.
Vpon the floore (ypau'd with Marble slate)
(With Sack-cloth cloth'd) many in ashes sate:
And round about the wals for many yeares,
Hung Crystall Vials of repentant teares:
And Books of vowes, and many a heauenly deed,
Lay ready open for each one to read,
Some were immured vp in little sheads,
There to contemplate Heauen, and bid their Beads.
Others with garments thin of Cammels-haire,
With head, and armes, and legs, and feet all bare,
Were singing Hymnes to the Eternall Sage,
For safe returning from their Pilgrimage,
Some with a whip their pamper'd bodies beat;
Others in fasting liue, and seldome eat:
But as those Trees which doe in India grow
And call'd of elder Swaines full long agoe
The Sun and Moones faire Trees (full goodly deight)
And ten times ten feet challenging their height:
Hauing no helpe (to ouer-looke braue Towers)
From coole refreshing dew, or drisling showers;
When as the Earth (as oftentimes is seene)
Is interpos'd twixt Sol and Nights pale Queene;
Or when the Moone ecclipseth Titans light,
The Trees (all comfortlesse) rob'd of their sight
Weepe liquid drops, which plentifully shoot
Along the outward barke downe to the root:
And by their owne shed teares they euer flourish;
So their own sorrowes, their owne ioyes doe nourish:
And so within this place full many a wight,
Did make his teares his food both day and night.
And had it g[r]anted (from th' Almighty great)
To swim th' row them vnto his Mercy-seat.
Faire Metanoia in a chaire of earth,
With count'nance sad, yet sadnesse promis'd mirth,
Sate vail'd in coursest weeds of Cammels hayre,
Inriching pouertie; yet neuer faire
Was like to her, nor since the world begun
A louelier Lady kist the glorious Sun.
For her the God of Thunder, mighty, great,
Whose Foot-stoole is the Earth, and Heauen his Seat,
Vnto a man who from his crying birth
Went on still, shunning what he carried, earth:
VVhen he could walke no further for his graue,
Nor could step ouer, but he there must haue
A seat to rest, when he would faine goe on;
But age in euery nerue, in euery bone
Forbad his passage: for her sake hath heauen
Fill'd vp the graue, and made his path so euen,
That fifteene courses had the bright Steeds run,
(And he was weary) ere his course was done.
For scorning her, the Courts of Kings which throw
A proud rais'd pinnacle to rest the Crow;
And on a Plaine out-braue a neighbour Rocke,
In stout resistance of a Tempests shocke,
For her contempt heauen (reining his disasters)
Haue made those Towers but piles to burne their masters.
To her the lowly Nymph (Humblessa hight)
Brought (as her office) this deformed wight;
To whom the Lady courteous semblance shewes,
And pittying his estate in sacred thewes,
And Letters (worthily ycleep'd diuine)
Resolu'd t'instruct him: but her discipline
She knew of true effect, would surely misse,
Except the first his Metamorphosis
Should cleane exile: and knowing that his birth
VVas to inherit reason, though on earth
Some VVitch had thus transform'd him, by her skill,
Expert in changing, euen the very will,
In few dayes labours with continuall prayer,
(A sacrifice transcends the buxome ayre)
His grisly shape, his foule deformed feature,
His horrid lookes, worse then a sauage creature,
By Metanoia's hand from heauen, began
Receiue their sentence of diuorce from man.
And as a louely Maiden, pure and chaste,
VVith naked Iu'rie necke, and gowne vnlac'd,
VVithin her chamher, when the day is fled,
Makes poore her garments to enrich her bed:
First, puts she off her lilly-silken gowne,
That shrikes for sorrow as she layes it downe;
And with her armes graceth a VVast-coat fine,
Imbracing her as it would ne'er vntwine.
Her flexen haire insnaring [the] beholders,
She next permits to waue about her shoulders,
And though she cast it backe, the silken slips.
Still forward steale, and hang vpon her lips:
VVhereat she sweetly angry, with her laces
Bindes vp the wanton locks in curious traces,
VVhilst (twisting with her ioynts) each haire long lingers,
As loth to be inchain'd, but with her fingers.
Then on her head a dressing like a Crowne;
Her breasts all bare, her Kirtle slipping downe,
And all things off (which rightly euer be
Call'd the foule-faire markes of our miserie)
Except her last, which enuiously doth seize her,
Least any eye partake with it in pleasure,
Prepares for sweetest rest, while Siluans greet her,
And (longingly) the down-bed swels to meet her:
So by degrees his shape all brutish vilde,
Fell from him (as loose skin from some yong childe)
In lieu whereof a man-like shape appeares,
And gallant youth scarce skill'd in twenty yeares,
So faire, so fresh, so young, so admirable
In euery part, that since I am not able
In words to shew his picture, gentle Swaines,
Recall the praises in my former straines;
And know if they haue graced any lim,
I onely lent it those, but stole't from him.
Had that chaste Roman Dame beheld his face,
Ere the proud King possest her Husbands place,
Her thoughts had beene adulterate, and this staine
Had won her greater fame, had she beene slaine.
The Larke that many mornes her selfe makes merry
With the shrill chanting of her teery-lerry,
(Before he was transform'd) would leaue the skyes,
And houer o'er him to behold his eyes.
Vpon an Oten-pipe well could he play,
For when he fed his flocke vpon the lay
Maidens to heare him from the Plaines came tripping
And Birds frō bough to bough full nimbly skipping;
His flocke (then happy flocke) would leaue to feed,
And stand amaz'd to listen to his Reed:
Lyons and Tygers, with each beast of game;
With hearing him were many times made tame:
Braue trees & flowers would towards him be bending
And none that heard him wisht his Song an ending:
Maids, Lyons, birds, flocks, trees, each flowre, each spring,
Were wrapt with wōder, whē he vs'd to sing
So faire a person to describe to men
Requires a curious Pencill, not a Pen.
Him Metanoia clad in seemly wise
(Not after our corrupted ages guise,
Where gaudy weeds lend splendor to the lim,
While that his cloaths receiu'd their grace from him,)
Then to a garden set with rarest flowres,
With pleasant fountains stor'd, and shady bowres:
She leads him by the hand, and in the groues,
Where thousand pretty Birds sung to their Loues,
And thousand thousand blossomes (from their stalks)
Milde Zephyrus threw downe to paint the walkes:
Where yet the wilde Boare neuer durst appeare:
Here Fida (euer to kinde Raymond deare)
Met them, and shew'd where Aletheia lay,
(The fairest Maid that euer blest the day.)
Sweetly she lay, and cool'd her lilly-hands
Within a Spring that threw vp golden sands:
As if it would intice her to perseuer
In liuing there, and grace the banks for euer.
To her Amintas (Riot now no more)
Came, and saluted: neuer man before
More blest, nor like this kisse hath beene another
But when two dangling Cherries kist each other:
Nor euer beauties, like, met at such closes;
But in the kisses of two Damaske-Roses.
O, how the flowres (prest with their treadings on thē)
Stroue to cast vp their heads to looke vpon them!
How iealously the buds that so had seene them,
Sent forth the sweetest smels to step betweene them,
As fearing the perfume lodg'd in their powers
Once known of them, they might neglect the flowres,
How often wisht Amintas with his heart,
His ruddy lips from hers might neuer part;
And that the heauens this gift were thē bequeathing,
To feed on nothing but each others breathing!
A truer loue the Muses neuer sung,
Nor happyer names ere grac'd a golden tongue:
O! they are better fitting his sweet stripe,
Who on the bankes of Ancor tun'd his Pipe:
Or rather for that learned Swaine whose layes
Diuinest Homer crown'd with deathlesse Bayes:
Or any one sent from the sacred Well
Inheriting the soule of Astrophell:
These, these in golden lines might write this Story,
And make these loues their owne eternall glory:
Whilst I a Swaine as weake in yeeres as skill,
Should in the valley heare them on the hill,
Yet (when my Sheepe haue at their Cesterne beene,
And I haue brought them backe to sheare the greene)
To misse an idle houre, and not for meed,
VVith choicest relish shall mine Oaten Reed
Record their worths: and though in accents rare
I misse the glory of a charming ayre,
My Muse may one day make the Courtly Swaines
Enamour'd on the Musicke of the Plaines,
And as vpon a hill she brauely sings,
Teach humble Dales to weepe in Crystall Springs.