The Shepheardes Complaint A passionate Eclogue, written in English Hexameters: Where vnto are annexed other canceits, brieflie expressing the effects of Loues impressions, and the iust punishment of aspiring beautie. By J. D. [i.e. John Dickenson] |
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 | The Shepheardes Complaint |  |
This said, he sighd, as though his heart would riue,
Had she that wrongd the sweet-tongud shepheard so,
Whose high thoughts fortunes malice did depriue
Of sweete delight, matter more fitte then woe,
O would his fates had preordaind it so:
Had she beene there to heare him thus lament,
Her eyes some teares, her heart some sighes had lent.
Had she that wrongd the sweet-tongud shepheard so,
Whose high thoughts fortunes malice did depriue
Of sweete delight, matter more fitte then woe,
O would his fates had preordaind it so:
Had she beene there to heare him thus lament,
Her eyes some teares, her heart some sighes had lent.
O how diuinely would the swaine haue sung
In Laureate lines of beauteous Ladies praise?
Her fame emblason'd, farre abroad had rung,
Where worlds bright eye his farthest beames displayes,
If Loue had deignd his drouping quill to raise,
Whose heau'nly Muse midst sorrow tun'd so high,
Her Swan-like notes, as loath that all should die.
In Laureate lines of beauteous Ladies praise?
Her fame emblason'd, farre abroad had rung,
Where worlds bright eye his farthest beames displayes,
If Loue had deignd his drouping quill to raise,
Whose heau'nly Muse midst sorrow tun'd so high,
Her Swan-like notes, as loath that all should die.
When I beheld the shepheard grieued so,
I did compassionate his heauinesse,
And with sad sighes accorded to his woe,
Which in those former plaints he did expresse.
Yet loath to trouble him in his distresse,
As vnespi'd I thether did repaire,
So vnespi'd I left him in despaire.
I did compassionate his heauinesse,
And with sad sighes accorded to his woe,
Which in those former plaints he did expresse.
Yet loath to trouble him in his distresse,
As vnespi'd I thether did repaire,
So vnespi'd I left him in despaire.
Most sweete Amintas, if the heau'nly Pen
That wrote the loyall issue of thy loue,
Whose golden lines are mongst conceitfull men,
Esteem'd as doth his labours best behooue
Whose stile th' applauding Muses did approoue,
If that had written sillie swaines vnrest,
Poore shepheards griefe had sweetly beene exprest.
That wrote the loyall issue of thy loue,
Whose golden lines are mongst conceitfull men,
Esteem'd as doth his labours best behooue
Whose stile th' applauding Muses did approoue,
If that had written sillie swaines vnrest,
Poore shepheards griefe had sweetly beene exprest.
But death that seasd on matchlesse Astrophel,
Bereauing still the world of worlds delight,
Hath stop'd his hopefull course that did excell,
Sweete Poet that diuinely did indite.
Arcadians doe him his deserued right,
And on his Tombe greene Laurel-branches spread,
Which while he breath'd on earth, ador'nd his head.
Bereauing still the world of worlds delight,
Hath stop'd his hopefull course that did excell,
Sweete Poet that diuinely did indite.
Arcadians doe him his deserued right,
And on his Tombe greene Laurel-branches spread,
Which while he breath'd on earth, ador'nd his head.
Dead though thou bee, faire floure of Poetrie,
Yet gratefull Loue hath memorizd thy name,
A monument of lasting memorie,
Enrold in endlesse registers of Fame,
Thou for thy selfe didst in sweete Poems frame.
But what meane I in harsh ill-sounding verse,
Thy rare perfections rudely to rehearse?
Yet gratefull Loue hath memorizd thy name,
A monument of lasting memorie,
Enrold in endlesse registers of Fame,
Thou for thy selfe didst in sweete Poems frame.
But what meane I in harsh ill-sounding verse,
Thy rare perfections rudely to rehearse?
Soli quid sit amor sciunt amantes.
| The Shepheardes Complaint | |