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 |
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| V. | V. Visions. |
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 | The Whole Works of William Browne |  |
329
V. Visions.
1.
[Sitting one day beside the bankes of Mole]
Sitting one day beside the bankes of Mole,Whose sleepy streame by passages vnknowne
Conuayes the fry of all her finny shole;
(As of the fisher she were feareful growne;)
I thought vpon the various turnes of Time,
And suddaine changes of all humane state;
The Feare-mixt pleasvres of all such as clyme
To Fortunes merely by the hand of Fate,
Without desert. Then weighing inly deepe
The griefes of some whose neernes makes him myne;
(Wearyed with thoughts) the leaden god of sleepe
With silken armes of rest did me entwyne:
While such strange apparitions girt me round,
As need another Joseph to expovnd.
330
3.
[I saw a silver swan swim downe the Lee]
I saw a silver swan swim downe the Lee,Singing a sad Farwell vnto the Vale,
While fishes leapt to hear her melodie,
And on each thorne a gentle Nightingale;
And many other Birds forbore their notes,
Leaping from tree to tree, as she along
The panting bosome of the torrent floates,
Rapt with the musick of her dyeing Song:
When from a thick & all-entangled spring
A neatheard rude came with noe small adoe,
(Dreading an ill presage to heare her sing,)
And quickly strooke her slender neck in t[w]oo;
Whereat the Birds (me thought) flew thence with speed,
And inly griev'd for such a cruell deed.
4.
[Within the compasse of a shadye grove]
Within the compasse of a shadye groveI long time sawe a loving Turtle flye,
And lastlye pitching by her gentle Love,
Sit kindelie billing in his company:
Till (haples soules) a faulcon sharply bent,
Flew towards the place where these kind wretches stood,
And sev'ring them, a fatall accident,
She from her mate flung speedie through the wood;
And scapeing from the hawke, a fowler sett
Close & with cunning vnderneath the shade,
Entrapt the harmles creature in his net,
And nothing moved with the plaint she made,
Restraynde her from the groves & deserts wide,
Where overgone with griefe, poore Bird, she dyde.
331
5.
[A rose, as faire as euer saw the North]
A rose, as faire as euer saw the North,Grew in a little Garden all alone;
A sweeter flowre did Nature ne're put forth,
Nor fairer Garden yet was never knowne:
The Maydens danc't about it more & more,
And learned Bards of it their ditties made;
The Nimble Fairyes, by the palefac'd moone,
Wattr'd the roote, & kiss'd her pretty shade.
But welladaye, the Gardner careles grewe;
The maids & Fairyes both were kept awaye,
And in a drought the caterpillers threw
Themselues vpon the Bird & euery spraye.
God shield the stock! if heaven send noe supplyes,
The fairest Blossom of the Garden dyes.
6.
[Downe in a vallye, by a Forestt side]
Downe in a vallye, by a Forestt side,Neere where the christall Thames roules on her waves,
I saw a Mushrome stand in haughty pride,
As if the Lillyes grew to be his slaves;
The gentle daisye, with her silver crowne,
Worne in the brest of many a shepheards lasse;
The humble violett, that lowly downe
Salutes the gaye Nimphes as they trimly passe:
Those, with a many more, me thoughte complaind
That Nature should those needles things produce,
Which not alone the Sun from others gain'd,
But turne it wholy to their proper vse:
I could not chuse but grieve, that Nature made
So glorious flowers to live in such a shade.
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7.
[A gentle shepherd, borne in Arcadye]
A gentle shepherd, borne in Arcadye,That well could tune his pipe, and deftly playe
The Nimphs asleepe with rurall minstralsye,
Me thought I saw, vpon a summer's daye,
Take up a little Satyre in a wood,
All masterlesse forlorne as none did know him,
And nursing him with those of his owne blood,
On mightye Pan he lastlie did bestowe him;
But with the god he long time had not been,
Ere he the shepherd and himselfe forgott,
And most ingratefull, ever stept between
Pan and all good befell the poore mans lott:
Whereat all good men griev'd, [and] strongly swore,
They never would be fosterfathers more.
| The Whole Works of William Browne | |