University of Virginia Library

The First Ecloges.

[—Fortune, Nature, Love, long have contended about me]

Dorus.
—Fortune, Nature, Love, long have contended about me,
Which should most miseries, cast on a worme that I am.
—Fortune thus gan say; misery and misfortune is all one,
And of misfortune, fortune hath only the gift.
—With strong foes on land, on seas with contrary tempests
Still doo I crosse this wretch, what so he taketh in hand.
—Tush, tush, said nature, this is all but a trifle, a mans selfe
Gives happs or mishapps, ev'n as he ordreth his hearte.
—But so his humor I frame, in a mould of choller adusted,
That the delights of life shall be to him dolorouse.
—Love smiled, and thus said; Want joynd to desire is unhappy.
But if he nought do desire, what can Heraclitus aile?
—None but I, workes by desire: by desire have I kindled in his soule
Infernall agonies unto a bewtye divine,
—Where thou poore nature left'st all thy due glory, to fortune
Her vertue is soveraine, fortune a vassal of hers.
—Nature abasht went back: fortune blusht: yet she replide thus:
And ev'n in that love, shall I reserve him a spite.
—Thus, thus, alas! wofull in nature, unhappy by fortune,
But most wretched I am, now love awakes my desire.

Dorus. Zelmane.
Dorus.
Lady reservd by the heav'ns to do pastors company honnor,
Joyning your sweete voice to the rurall muse of a deserte,
Here you fully do finde this strange operation of love,
How to the woods love runnes as well as rydes to the Pallace,
Neither he beares reverence to a Prince nor pittie to begger,
But (like a point in midst of a circle) is still of a neernesse,
All to a lesson he draw's, nether hills nor caves can avoide him.

Zelmane
Worthy shepeheard by my song to my selfe all favor is happned,
That to the sacred Muse my anoyes somewhat be revealed,
Sacred Muse, who in one contaynes what nine do in all them.
But ô happy be you, which safe from fyry reflection
Of Phœbus violence in shade of sweet Cyparissus,
Or pleasant mirtell, may teach th'unfortunate Echo
In these woods to resounde the renowmed name of a goddesse.
Happy be you that may to the saint, your onely Idea,
(Although simply atyrde) your manly affection utter.
Happy be those mishapps which justly proportion holding
Give right sound to the eares, and enter aright to the judgement,
But wretched be the soules, which vaild in a contrary subject:
How much more we do love, so the lesse our loves be beleeved.
What skill salveth a soare of a wrong infirmity judged?
What can justice availe, to a man that tells not his owne case?
You though feares do abash, in you still possible hopes be:
Nature against we do seeme to rebell, seeme fooles in a vaine sute.
But so unheard, condemn'd, kept thence we do seeke to abide in,
Selfe-lost in wandring, banished that place we doe come from,
What meane is there, alas, we can hope our losse to recover?
What place is there left, we may hope our woes to recomfort?
Unto the heav'ns? our wings be too short: earth thinks us a burden.
Aire we do still with sighes encrease, to the fire? we do want none.
And yet his outward heate our teares would quench, but an inward
Fire no liquor can coole: Neptunes realme would not availe us.
Happy shepheard, with thanks to the Gods, still thinke to be thankfull,
That to thy advauncement their wisdomes have thee abased.

Dorus.
Unto the Gods with a thanckfull heart all thankes I do render,
That to my advauncement their wisdomes have me abased.
But yet, alas! O but yet alas! our happs be but hard happs,
Which must frame contempt to the fittest purchase of honnour.
Well may a Pastor plaine, but alas his plaints be not esteem'de
Silly shepheards poore pype, when his harsh sound testifi's anguish,
Into the faire looker on, pastime, not passion, enters.
And to the woods or brookes, who do make such dreery recitall
What be the pangs they beare, and whence those pangs be derived,
Pleasd to receave that name by rebounding answere of Echo,
May hope therby to ease their inward horrible anguish,
When trees daunce to the pype, and swift streames stay by the musicke,
Or when an Echo begins unmov'd to sing them a love song.
Say then what vantage do we get, by the trade of a Pastor?
(Since no estates be so base, but love vouchsafeth his arrow,
Since no refuge doth serve from woundes we do carry about us,
Since outward pleasures be but halting helpes to decayd soules)
Save that dayly we may discerne what fire we do burne in.
Farre more happy be you, whose greatnes gets a free accesse,
Whose faire bodily gifts are fram'd most lovely to each ey.
Vertue you have, of vertue you have left proofe to the whole world.
And vertue is gratefull with bewty and richnes adorned,
Neither doubt you awhit, time will your passion utter.
Hardly remains fyer hid, where skill is bent to the hiding,
But in a minde that would his flames should not be repressed,
Nature worketh enough with a small help for the revealing.
Give therefore to the Muse great praise in whose very likenes
You doo approch to the fruite your onely desir's be to gather.

Zelmane.
First shall fertill grounds not yeeld increase of a good seed:
First the rivers shall ceasse to repay their fludds to the Occean:
First may a trusty Greyhounde transforme himselfe to a Tigre:
First shall vertue be vice, and bewty be counted a blemishe,
Ere that I leave with song of praise her praise to solemnize,
Her praise, whence to the world all praise hath his only beginning:
But yet well I doo finde each man most wise in his owne case.
None can speake of a wound with skill, if he have not a wound felt.
Great to thee my state seemes, thy state is blest by my judgement:
And yet neither of us great or blest deemeth his owne selfe.
For yet (weigh this alas!) great is not great to the greater.
What judge you doth a hillocke shew, by the lofty Olympus?
Such my minute greatnes, doth seeme compar'd to the greatest.
When Cedars to the ground fall downe by the weight of an emmott,
Or when a rich rubies just price be the worth of a walnut,
Or to the Sun for wonders seeme small sparks of a candle:
Then by my high Cedar, rich Ruby, and only shining Sunne,
Vertue, richesse, beawties of mine shall great be reputed.
Oh no, no, worthy shepeheard, worth can never enter a title,
Where proofes justly do teach, thus matcht, such worth to be nought worth,
Let not a puppet abuse thy sprite, Kings Crownes do not helpe them
From the cruell headache, nor shooes of golde doo the gowt heale,
And preciouse couches full oft are shak't with a feaver.
If then a boddily evill in a boddily gloze be not hidden,
Shall such morning deaws be an ease to the heate of a loves fire?

Dorus.
O glittring miseries of man, if this be the fortune
Of those fortune lulls? so small rest rests in a kingdome?
What marvaile tho a Prince transforme himselfe to a Pastor?
Come from marble bowres many times the gay harbor of anguish,
Unto a silly caban, though weake, yet stronger against woes.
Now by thy words I begin, most famous Lady, to gather
Comfort into my soule I do finde, I do find what a blessing
Is chaunced to my life, that from such muddy abundance
Of carking agonies (to states which still be adherent)
Desteny keepes me aloofe, for if all this state to thy vertue
Joyn'd, by thy beauty adorn'd be no meanes these greefes to abolish:
If neither by that helpe, thou canst clime up to thy fancie,
Nor yet fancy so drest do receive more plausible hearing:
Then do I thinke in deed, that better it is to be private
In sorrows torments, then, tyed to the pompes of a pallace,
Nurse inwarde maladyes, which have not scope to be breath'd out.
But perforce disgest, all bitter joyces of horror
In silence, from a mans owne selfe with company robbed.
Better yet do I live, that though by my thoughts I be plunged
Into my lives bondage, yet may disburden a passion
(Opprest with ruinouse conceites) by the helpe of an outcrye:
Not limited to a whispringe note, the Lament of a Courtier.
But sometimes to the woods somtimes to the heav'n do decyphire
With bolde clamor unheard, unmarckt, what I seeke what I suffer:
And when I meete these trees, in the earths faire livory clothed,
Ease I do feele (such ease as falls to one wholy diseased)
For that I finde in them parte of my state represented.
Lawrell shew's what I seeke, by the Mirre is show'd how I seeke it,
Olive paintes me the peace that I must aspire to by the conquest:
Mirtle makes my request, my request is crown'd with a willowe?
Cyprus promiseth helpe, but a helpe where comes no recomforte
Sweete Juniper, saith this, thoh I burne, yet I burne in a sweete fire.
Ewe doth make me thinke what kind of bow the boy holdeth
Which shootes strongly with out any noyse and deadly without smarte.
Firr trees great and greene, fixt on a hye hill but a barrein,
Lyke to my noble thoughtes, still new, well plac'd, to me fruteles.
Figge that yeeldes most pleasante fru'te, his shaddow is hurtefull
Thus be her giftes most sweet, thus more danger to be neere her,
Now in a palme when I marke, how he doth rise under a burden,
And may I not (say I then) gett up though griefs be so weightie?
Pine is a maste to a shippe, to my shippe shall hope for a maste serve,
Pine is hye, hope is as hie, sharpe leav'd, sharpe yet be my hopes budds.
Elme embraste by a vine, embracing fancy reviveth
Popler changeth his hew from a rising sunne to a setting:
Thus to my sonne do I yeeld, such lookes her beames do aforde me
Olde aged oke cutt downe, of newe works serves to the building:
So my desires by my feare, cutt downe, be the frames of her honour.
Ashe makes speares which shieldes do resist, her force no repulse takes.
Palmes do rejoyce to be joynd by the match of a male to a female,
And shall sensive things be so sencelesse as to resist sence?
Thus be my thoughts disperst, thus thinking nurseth a thinking,
Thus both trees and each thing ells, be the bookes of a fancy.
But to the Cedar Queene of woods when I lifte my beteard eyes,
Then do I shape to my selfe that forme which raign's so with in me,
And thinke ther she do dwell & heare what plants I do utter:
When that noble toppe doth nodd, I beleeve she salutes me;
When by the winde it maketh a noyse, I do thinke she doth answer.
Then kneling to the ground, oft thus do I speake to that Image:
Onely Juell, O only Juell, which only deservest
That mens harts be thy seate and endlesse fame be thy servant,
O descende for a while, from this greate height to behold me,
But nought els do, behold (else is nought worth the beholding)
Save what a worke, by thy selfe is wrought: & since I am altred
Thus by thy worke, disdaine not that which is by thy selfe done.
In meane caves oft treasure abides, to an hostry a king comes.
And so behinde foule clowdes full oft faire starres do ly hidden.

Zelmane.
Hardy shephearde, such as thy meritts, such may be her insight
Justely to graunt thee rewarde, such envie I beare to thy fortune.
But to my selfe what wish can I make for a salve to my sorrowes,
Whom both nature seemes to debarr from meanes to be helped,
And if a meane were found, fortune th'whole course of it hinders.
This plag'de how can I frame to my soare any hope of amendemente?
Whence may I show to my minde any light of possible escape?
Bownd & bownd by so noble bandes, as loth to be unbownd,
Jaylor I am to my selfe, prison & prisoner to myne owne selfe.
Yet be my hopes thus plast, here fix'd lives all my recomforte,
That that deare Dyamond, where wisdome holdeth a sure seate,
Whose force had such force so to transforme, nay to reforme me,
Will at length perceave these flames by her beames to be kindled,
And will pitty the wound festred so strangely within me.
O be it so, graunte such an event, O Gods, that event give.
And for a sure sacrifice I do dayly oblation offer
Of mine owne harte, where thoughts be the temple, sighte is a aultar.
But ceasse worthy shepheard, nowe ceasse we to weery the hearers
With monefull melodies, for enough our greefes be revealed,
If by the parties ment our meanings rightly be marked,
And sorrow's do require some respitt unto the sences.

[A shepheards tale no height of stile desires]

A shepheards tale no height of stile desires
To raise in words what in effect is lowe:
A plaining songe plaine-singing voice requires,
For warbling notes from inward chearing flow.
I then, whose burd'ned brest but thus aspires
Of shepheards two the seely case to show,
Nede not the stately Muses helpe invoke
For creeping rimes, which often sighings choke.
But you, ô you, that thinke not teares to deare
To spend for harms, although they touch you not:
And deigne to deeme your neighbors mischefe neare,
Although they be of meaner parents gott:
You I invite with easie eares to heare
The poore-clad truth of loves wrong-ordred lot.
Who may be glad, be glad you be not such:
Who share in woe, weygh others have as much.
Ther was (ô seldome blessed word of was!)
A paire of frends, or rather one cal'd two,
Train'd in the life which on short-bitten grasse
In shine or storme must sett the doubted shoe:
He, that the other in some yeares did passe,
And in those gifts that years distribute doe,
Was Klaius cald, (ah Klaius, wofull wight!)
The later borne, yet too soone, Strephon hight.
Epeirus high, was honest Klaius nest,
To Strephon Æoles land first breathing lent:
But East & West were join'd by frendships hest.
As Strephons eare & heart to Klaius bent:
So Klaius soule did in his Strephon rest.
Still both their flocks flocking togither went,
As if they would of owners humour be,
And eke their pipes did well, as frends agree.
Klaius for skill of hearb's & shepheards art
Among the wisest was accounted wise,
Yet not so wise, as of unstained harte:
Strephon was yonge, yet markt with humble eies
How elder rul'd their flocks, & cur'd their smart,
So that the grave did not his words despise.
Both free of minde, both did clear-dealing love,
And both had skill in verse their voice to move.
Their chearfull minds, till pois'ned was their cheare,
The honest sports of earthy lodging prove;
Now for a clod-like hare in fourm they peere,
Now bolt & cudgill squirrels leape do move.
Now the ambitiouse Larke with mirror cleare
They catch, while he (foole!) to himself makes love:
And now at keels they trie a harmles chaunce,
And now their curr they teach to fetch & daunce.
When mery May first early calls the morne,
With mery maids a mayeng they do go,
Then do they pull from sharpe & niggard thorne
The plenteous sweets, (can sweets so sharply grow?)
Then some grene gowns are by the lasses worne
In chastest plaies, till home they walke a rowe,
While daunce about the may-pole is begun,
When, if nede were, they could at quintain run:
While thus they ran a low, but leaveld race,
While thus they liv'd, (this was indede a life)
With nature pleas'd, content with present case.
Free of proud feares, brave begg'ry, smiling strife
Of clime-fall Court, the envy-hatching place:
While those restles desires in great men rife
To visite so low folkes did much disdaine,
This while, though poore, they in themselves did raigne.
One day (ô day, that shin'de to make them darke!)
While they did ward sun-beames with shady bay,
And Klaius taking for his yongling carke,
(Lest greedy eies to them might challenge lay)
Busy with oker did their shoulders marke,
(His marke a Piller was devoid of stay,
As bragging that free of all passions mone
Well might he others beare, but leane to none)
Strephon with leavy twiggs of Laurell tree
A garland made on temples for to weare,
For he then chosen was the dignitie
Of village-Lord that whitsontide to beare:
And full, poore foole of boyish bravery
With triumphs shews would shew he nought did feare.
But fore-accounting oft makes builders misse,
They found, they felt, they had no lease of blisse.
For ere that either had his purpose done,
Behold (beholding well it doth deserve)
They saw a maid who thitherward did runne,
To catch hir sparrow which from hir did swerve,
As she a black-silke cap on him begunne
To sett, for foile of his milke-white to serve.
She chirping ran, he peeping flew away,
Till hard by them both he & she did stay.
Well for to see they kept themselves unsene,
And saw this fairest maid of fairer minde,
By, fortune meare, in Nature borne a Queene,
How well apaid she was hir birde to finde:
How tenderly hir tender hands betweene
In ivory cage she did the micher binde:
How rosy moist'ned lipps about his beake
Moving, she seem'd at once to kisse, & speake.
Chastned but thus, & thus his lesson tought
The happy wretch she putt into hir breast,
Which to their eies the bowles of Venus brought,
For they seem'd made even of skie-mettall best,
And that the bias of hir bloud was wrought.
Betwixt them two the peeper tooke his nest,
Where snugging well he well appear'd content
So to have done amisse, so to be shent.
This done, but done with captive-killing grace,
Each motion seeming shott from beauties bow,
With length laid downe she deckt the lonely place.
Proud grew the grasse that under hir did growe,
The trees spred out their armes to shade hir face,
But she on elbow lean'd with sigh's did show
No grasse, no trees, nor yet hir sparrow might
To long-perplexed minde breed long delight.
She troubled was (alas that it mought be!)
With tedious brawlings of her parents deare,
Who would have hir in will & worde agree
To wedd Antaxius their neighbour neare.
A heardman rich of much account was he
In whome no evill did raigne, nor good appeare.
In some such one she lik'd not his desire,
Faine would be free, but dreadeth parents ire.
Kindly, sweete soule, she did unkindnes take
That bagged baggage of a misers mudd,
Should price of her, as in a market, make.
But golde can guild a rotten piece of wood,
To yeeld she found hir noble heart did ake:
To strive she fear'd how it with vertue stoode.
This doubting clouds ore-casting heav'nly braine,
At length in rowes of Kisse-cheeke teares they raine.
Cupid the wagg, that lately conquer'd had
Wise Counsellors, stout Captaines puissant Kings,
And ti'de them fast to leade his triumph badd,
Glutted with them now plaies with meanest things.
So oft in feasts with costly chaunges cladd
To crammed mawes a spratt new Stomake brings.
So Lords with sport of Stagg & Hearon full
Sometimes we use small birds from nests do pull.
So now for pray these shepheards two he tooke
Whose mettall stiff he knew he could not bende
With hear-say, pictures, or a window looke,
With one good dawnce, or letter finely pend,
That were in Court a well proportion'd hooke,
Where piercing witts do quickly apprehend,
Their sences rude plaine objects only move,
And so must see great cause before they love.
Therfore Love arm'd in hir now takes the fielde,
Making hir beames his bravery & might:
Hir hands which pierc'd the soules seav'n-double shield,
Were now his darts leaving his wonted fight.
Brave crest to him hir scorn-gold haire did yeeld,
His compleat harneis was hir purest white.
But fearing lest all white might seeme too good,
In cheeks & lipps the Tyran threatens bloud.
Besides this force within hir eies he kept
A fire, to burne the prisoners he gaines,
Whose boiling heat encreased as she wept:
For ev'n in forge colde water fire maintaines.
Thus proud & fierce unto the hearts he stept
Of them poore soules: & cutting Reasons raines,
Made them his owne before they had it wist.
But if they had, could shephookes this resist?
Klaius streight felt, & groned at the blowe,
And cal'd, now wounded, purpose to his aide:
Strephon, fond boy, delighted did not knowe,
That it was Love that shin'de in shining maid:
But lickrous, Poison'd, faine to her would goe,
If him new-learned manners had not stai'd.
For then Urania homeward did arise,
Leaving in paine their wel-fed hungry eies.
She went, they staid; or rightly for to say,
She staid in them, they went in thought with hyr:
Klaius in deede would faine have puld a way
This mote from out his eye, this inward burre,
And now, proud Rebell gan for to gainsay
The lesson which but late he learn'd too furre:
Meaning with absence to refresh the thought
To which hir presence such a feaver brought.
Strephon did leape with joy & jolitie,
Thinking it just more therein to delight
Then in good Dog, faire field, or shading tree.
So have I sene trim bookes in velvet dight
With golden leaves, & painted babery
Of seely boies please unacquainted sight:
But when the rod began to play his part,
Faine would, but could not fly from golden smart.
He quickly learn'd Urania was her name,
And streight for failing, grav'd it in his heart:
He knew hir haunt, & haunted in the same,
And taught his shepe hir shepe in food to thwart.
Which soone as it did batefull question frame,
He might on knees confesse his faulty part,
And yeeld himselfe unto hir punishment,
While nought but game, the selfe-hurt wanton ment.
Nay ev'n unto hir home he oft would go,
Where bold and hurtles many play he tries,
Her parents liking well it should be so,
For simple goodnes shined in his eyes.
There did he make hir laugh in spite of woe,
So as good thoughts of him in all arise,
While into none doubt of his love did sinke,
For not himselfe to be in love did thinke.
But glad Desire, his late embosom'd guest,
Yet but a babe, with milke of Sight he nurst:
Desire the more he suckt, more sought the brest,
Like dropsy folke still drinke to be a thyrst.
Till one faire eav'n an howr ere Sun did rest,
Who then in Lions cave did enter fyrst,
By neighbors prai'd she went abroad therby.
At Barly brake hir swete swift foot to trie.
Never the earth on his round shoulders bare
A maid train'd up from high or low degree,
That in her doings better could compare
Mirth with respect, few words with curtesy,
A careles comelines with comely care,
Self-gard with mildnes, Sport with Majesty:
Which made hir yeeld to deck this shepheards band,
And still, beleve me, Strephon was at hand.
A field they goe, where many lookers be,
And thou seke-sorow Klaius them among:
In dede thou said'st it was thy frend to see
Strephon, whose absence seem'd unto thee long,
While most with hir he lesse did kepe with thee.
No, no, it was in spite of wisdomes song
Which absence wisht: love plai'd a victors part:
The heav'n-love lodestone drew thy iron hart.
Then couples three be streight allotted there,
They of both ends the middle two doe flie,
The two that in mid place, Hell called were,
Must strive with waiting foot, and watching eye
To catch of them, and them to hell to beare,
That they, as well as they, Hell may supplie:
Like some which seeke to salve their blotted name
With others blott, till all do tast of shame.
There may you see, soone as the middle two
Do coupled towards either couple make,
They false and fearfull do their hands undoe,
Brother his brother, frend doth frend forsake,
Heeding himselfe, cares not how fellow doe,
But of a straunger mutuall help doth take:
As perjur'd cowards in adversity
With sight of feare from frends to fremb'd do flie.
These sports shepheards deviz'd such faults to show.
Geron, though olde yet gamesome, kept one ende
With Cosma, for whose love Pas past in woe.
Faire Nous with Pas the lott to hell did sende:
Pas thought it hell, while he was Cosma fro.
At other end Uran did Strephon lend
Her happy-making hand, of whome one looke
From Nous and Cosma all their beauty tooke.
The play began: Pas durst not Cosma chace,
But did entend next bout with her to meete,
So he with Nous to Geron turn'd their race,
With whome to joyne fast ran Urania sweet:
But light-legd Pas had gott the middle space.
Geron strave hard, but aged were his feet,
And therfore finding force now faint to be,
He thought gray haires afforded subtletie.
And so when Pas hand reached him to take,
The fox on knees and elbowes tombled downe:
Pas could not stay, but over him did rake,
And crown'd the earth with his first touching crowne:
His heels grow'n proud did seme at heav'n to shake.
But Nous that slipt from Pas, did catch the clowne.
So laughing all, yet Pas to ease some dell
Geron with Uran were condemn'd to hell.
Cosma this while to Strephon safely came,
And all to second barly-brake are bent:
The two in hell did toward Cosma frame,
Who should to Pas, but they would her prevent.
Pas mad with fall, and madder with the shame,
Most mad with beames which he thought Cosma sent,
With such mad haste he did to Cosma goe,
That to hir breast he gave a noysome blowe.
She quick, and proud, and who did Pas despise,
Up with hir fist, and tooke him on the face,
Another time, quoth she, become more wise.
Thus Pas did kisse hir hand with little grace,
And each way luckles, yet in humble guise
Did hold hir fast for feare of more disgrace,
While Strephon might with preatie Nous have met,
But all this while another course he fet.
For as Urania after Cosma ran,
He ravished with sight how gracefully
She mov'd hir lims, and drew the aged man,
Left Nous to coast the loved beauty ny.
Nous cri'de, and chafd, but he no other can.
Till Uran seing Pas to Cosma fly,
And Strephon single, turned after him.
Strephon so chas'd did seme in milke to swimme.
He ran, but ran with eye ore shoulder cast,
More marking hir, then how himselfe did goe,
Like Numid Lions by the hunters chas'd,
Though they do fly, yet backwardly do glowe
With proud aspect, disdaining greater hast.
What rage in them, that love in him did show.
But God gives them instinct the man to shun,
And he by law of Barly-brake must run.
But as his heate with running did augment,
Much more his sight encreast his hote desire:
So is in her the best of Nature spent,
The aire hir swete race mov'd doth blow the fire.
Hir feet be Pursevants from Cupid sent,
With whose fine stepps all loves and joyes conspire.
The hidden beauties seem'd in waite to lye,
To downe proud hearts that would not willing dye.
Thus, fast he fled from her he follow'd sore,
Still shunning Nous to lengthen pleasing race,
Till that he spied old Geron could no more,
Then did he slack his love-enstructed pace.
So that Urán, whose arme old Geron bore,
Laid hold on him with most lay-holding grace.
So caught, him seem'd he caught of joyes the bell,
And thought it heav'n so to be drawn to hell.
To hell he goes, and Nous with him must dwell.
Nous sware it was no right; for his default
Who would be caught, that she should go to hell:
But so she must. And now the third assault
Of Barly-brake among the six befell.
Pas Cosma matcht, yet angry with his fault,
The other end Geron with Urán garde.
I thinke you thinke Strephon bent thitherward.
Nous counseld Strephon Geron to pursue,
For he was olde, and easly would be cought:
But he drew hir as love his fancy drew,
And so to take the gemme Urania sought.
While Geron olde came safe to Cosma true,
Though him to meete at all she sturred nought.
For Pas, whither it were for feare, or love,
Mov'd not himselfe, nor suffred hir to move.
So they three did togither idly stay,
While deare Urán, whose course was Pas to meet,
(He staying thus) was faine abroad to stray
With larger round, to shun the folowing feet.
Strephon, whose eies on hir back-parts did play,
With love drawne on, so fast with pace unmeet
Drew dainty Nous, that she not able so
To runne, brake from his hands, and let him goe.
He single thus, hop'd soone with hir to be,
Who nothing earthly, but of fire and aire,
Though with soft leggs, did run as fast as he.
He thrise reacht, thrise deceiv'd, when hir to beare
He hopes, with dainty turns she doth him flee.
So on the down's we see, neere Wilton faire,
A hast'ned Hare from greedy Grayhound goe,
And past all hope his chapps to frustrate so.
But this straunge race more straunge conceits did yeeld:
Who victor seem'd, was to his ruine brought:
Who seem'd orethrown was mistresse of the field:
She fled, and tooke: he folow'd, and was cought.
So have I heard to pierce pursuing shield
By Parents train'd the Tartars wilde are tought,
With shafts shott out from their back-turned bow.
But, ah! hir darts did farre more depely goe.
As Venus bird the white, swift, lovely Dove
(O happy Dove that art compar'd to hir!)
Doth on hir wings hir utmost swiftnes prove,
Finding the gripe of Falcon fierce not furr:
So did Uran, the narr the swifter move,
(Yet beauty still as fast as she did sturre)
Till with long race deare she was breathles brought,
And then the Phœnix feared to be cought.
Among the rest that there did take delight
To see the sportes of double-shining day,
And did the tribute of their wondring sight
To Natures heir, the faire Urania, pay,
I tolde you Klaius was the haples wight
Who earnest found what they accounted play.
He did not there doe homage of his eies,
But on his eies his heart did sacrifise.
With gazing looks, short sighs, unsettled feet,
He stood, but turn'd, as Girosol, to Sun:
His fancies still did hir in half-way meet,
His soule did fly as she was seen to run.
In sum proud Boreas never ruled fleet
(Who Neptunes webb on daungers distaff spun)
With greater powr, then she did make them wend
Each way, as she, that ages praise, did bend.
Till spieng well she welnigh weary was,
And surely taught by his love-open eye,
His eye, that ev'n did marke hir troden grasse,
That she would faine the catch of Strephon flie,
Giving his reason pasport for to passe
Whither it would, so it would let him dy,
He that before shund hir to shun such harmes,
Now runnes, and takes hir in his clipping armes.
For with pretence from Strephon hir to garde,
He met hir full, but full of warefulnes,
With inbow'd bosome well for hir prepar'd,
When Strephon cursing his owne backwardnes
Came to hir back, and so with double warde
Emprison hir, who both them did possesse
As heart-bound slaves: and happy then embrace
Vertues proofe, fortunes victor, beauties place.
Hir race did not hir beauties beames augment,
For they were ever in the best degree,
But yet a setting foorth it some way lent:
As rubies lustre, when they rubbed be.
The dainty dew on face and body went
As on sweet flowrs when mornings drops we see.
Her breath then short seem'd loth from home to pas,
Which more it mov'd, the more it sweeter was.
Happy, ô happy! if they so might bide,
To see hir eies, with how true humblenes
They looked down to triumph over pride:
With how sweet sawes she blam'd their sawcines:
To feele the panting heart, which through hir syde
Did beate their hands, which durst so neere to presse.
To see, to feele, to heare, to tast, to know
More then, besides hir, all the earth could show.
But never did Medeas golden weed
On Creons child his poison sooner throw,
Then those delights through all their sinews breed
A creeping serpentlike of mortall woe.
Till she brake from their armes (although indeed
Going from them, from them she could not go)
And fare-welling the flocke did homeward wend,
And so that even the barly-brake did end.
It ended, but the others woe began,
Began at least to be conceiv'd as woe,
For then wise Klaius found no absence can
Help him, who can no more hir sight foregoe.
He found mans vertue is but part of man,
And part must folowe where whole man doth goe.
He found that Reasons self now reasons found
To fasten knotts, which fancy first had bound.
So doth he yeeld, so takes he on his yoke,
Not knowing who did draw with him therin;
Strephon, poore youth, because he saw no smoke
Did not conceive what fire he had within.
But after this to greater rage it broke,
Till of his life it did full conquest win,
First killing mirth, then banishing all rest,
Filling his eies with teares, with sighs his brest.
Then sports grew paines, all talking tediouse,
On thoughts he feeds, his lookes their figure chaunge,
The day seemes long, but night is odious,
No sleeps, but dream's, no dream's, but visions straunge,
Till finding still his evill encreasing thus,
One day he with his flock abroad did raunge:
And comming where he hop'd to be alone,
Thus on a hillock set, he made his mone.
Alas! what weights are these that lode my heart!
I am as dull as winter-sterved sheep,
Tir'de as a jade in overloden carte,
Yet thoughts do flie, though I can scarcely creep.
All visions seeme, at every bush I start:
Drowsy am I, and yet can rarely slepe.
Sure I bewitched am, it is even that:
Late neere a crosse I met an ougly Cat.
For, but by charms, how fall these things on me,
That from those eies where heav'nly apples bene,
Those eies, which nothing like themselves can see,
Of faire Urania, fairer then a greene,
Proudly bedeckt in Aprills livory,
A shot unheard gave me a wound unseene?
He was invisible that hurt me so,
And none unvisible, but Spirites, can goe.
When I see her, my sinewes shake for feare,
And yet, deare soule, I know she hurteth none:
Amid my flock with woe my voice I teare,
And, but bewitch'd, who to his flock would mone?
Her chery lipps, milke hands, and golden haire
I still do see, though I be still alone.
Now make me thinke that there is not a fende,
Who hid in Angels shape my life would ende.
The sportes wherin I wonted to do well,
Come she, and sweet the aire with open brest,
Then so I faile, when most I would do well,
That at me so amaz'd my fellowes jest:
Sometimes to her newes of my selfe to tell
I go about, but then is all my best
Wry words, and stam'ring, or els doltish dombe,
Say then, can this but of enchantment come?
Nay each thing is bewitcht to know my case:
The Nightingales for woe their songs refraine:
In river as I look'd my pining face,
As pin'd a face as mine I saw againe.
The courteous mountaines griev'd at my disgrace
Their snowy haire teare of in melting paine.
And now the dropping trees do wepe for me,
And now faire evenings blush my shame to see.
But you my pipe, whilome my chief delight,
Till straunge delight, delight to nothing ware;
And you my flock, care of my carefull sight,
While I was I, & so had cause to care;
And thou my dogg, whose truth & valiant might
Made wolves (not inward wolves) my ewes to spare;
Go you not from your master in his woe:
Let it suffise that he himselfe forgoe.
For though like waxe, this magique makes me waste,
Or like a lambe whose dam away is fet,
(Stolne from her yoong by theeves unchoosing hast)
He treble beas for helpe, but none can get:
Though thus, and worse, though now I am at last,
Of all the games that here ere now I met:
Do you remember still you once were mine,
Till my eies had their curse from blessed eine.
Be you with me while I unheard do cry,
While I do score my losses on the winde,
While I in heart my will write ere I die.
In which by will, my will and wits I binde:
Still to be hers, about her aye to flie,
As this same sprite about my fancies blinde,
Doth daily haunt: but so, that mine become
As much more loving, as lesse combersome.
Alas! a cloud hath overcast mine eies:
And yet I see her shine amid the cloud.
Alas! of ghostes I heare the gastly cries:
Yet there, me seemes, I heare her singing loud.
This song she singes in most commaunding wise:
Come shepheards boy, let now thy heart be bowd
To make it selfe to my least looke a slave:
Leave sheepe, leave all, I will no piecing have.
I will, I will, alas! alas! I will:
Wilt thou have more? more have, if more I be.
Away ragg'd rams, care I what murraine kill?
Out shreaking pipe made of some witched tree.
Go bawling curre, thy hungry maw go fill,
On yond foule flocke belonging not to me.
With that his dogge he henst his flocke he curst:
With that (yet kissed first) his pipe he burst.
This said, this done, he rase even tir'd with rest,
With heart as carefull, as with carelesse grace,
With shrinking legges, but with a swelling brest,
With eyes which threatned they would drowne his face,
Fearing the worst, not knowing what were best,
And giving to his sight a wandring race,
He saw behind a bush where Klaius sate:
His well know'ne friend, but yet his unknowne mate,
Klaius the wretch, who lately yelden was
To beare the bondes which Time nor wit could breake,
(With blushing soule at sight of judgements glasse,
While guilty thoughts accus'd his Reason weake)
This morne alone to lonely walke did passe,
Within himselfe of hir deare selfe to speake,
Till Strephons planing voice him nearer drew,
Where by his words his self-like cause he knew.
For hearing him so oft with wordes of woe
Urania name, whose force he knew so well,
He quickly knew what witchcraft gave the blow
Which made his Strephon think himselfe in hell.
Which when he did in perfect image show,
To his owne witt, thought upon thought did swell,
Breeding huge stormes within his inward parte,
Which thus breath'd out with earthquake of his hart.