The Golden Aphroditis A pleasant discourse, penned by John Grange ... Whereunto be annexed by the same Authour asvvell certayne Metres upon sundry poyntes, as also divers Pamphlets in prose, which he entituleth His Garden: pleasant to the eare, and delightful to the Reader, if he abuse not the scente of the floures |
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His Farewell to the same.
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 | The Golden Aphroditis |  |
His Farewell to the same.
A greater
griefe can hardly be,
Then faythfull friendes for to departe,
Thy tryed friendship biddes me say,
That absence thyne will cut my harte.
Then faythfull friendes for to departe,
Thy tryed friendship biddes me say,
That absence thyne will cut my harte.
Thou arte my gem of all my ioye,
The Fountayne eke of my delight.
Thou arte the staffe whereto I leane,
How might I misse thee fro my sight?
The Fountayne eke of my delight.
Thou arte the staffe whereto I leane,
How might I misse thee fro my sight?
Though space is great and myles are long
Whiche seemes to parte our corpse in twayne:
Yet distaunce shall not parte our loue,
Our hartes alike shall still remayne.
Whiche seemes to parte our corpse in twayne:
Yet distaunce shall not parte our loue,
Our hartes alike shall still remayne.
O Titus true, O Phenix kynde,
How lothe am I to bidde farewell?
It grieues me that suche faithfull friendes
For aye togither may not dwell.
How lothe am I to bidde farewell?
It grieues me that suche faithfull friendes
For aye togither may not dwell.
Shall we asunder parted be,
Who thus haue livde in tryed troth?
If needes we must, then fare you well,
Yet to departe I am full lothe.
Who thus haue livde in tryed troth?
If needes we must, then fare you well,
Yet to departe I am full lothe.
No greater ioye on earth is founde
Than faythfull friendes to liue in one.
No greater griefe can likewise chaunce,
Than when the one must needes be gone.
Than faythfull friendes to liue in one.
No greater griefe can likewise chaunce,
Than when the one must needes be gone.
Ten thousand times I rather had
A grisly ghost to ende my lyfe:
Come Atropos therefore in haste
On me to vse thy shredding knyfe.
A grisly ghost to ende my lyfe:
Come Atropos therefore in haste
On me to vse thy shredding knyfe.
Come lothsome death with fearefull mace,
Spare not to worke my latter dome.
Make haste, make haste, I liue to long,
Breath yeelded hath, bryng me my tome.
Spare not to worke my latter dome.
Make haste, make haste, I liue to long,
Breath yeelded hath, bryng me my tome.
When thou arte dead, then all the worlde
With me is gone, thou arte so kynde:
Who would then willyng let thee goe?
Suche faithfull friendes are harde to finde.
With me is gone, thou arte so kynde:
Who would then willyng let thee goe?
Suche faithfull friendes are harde to finde.
My lingring feete no power haue
Fro thee at all for to departe.
Eache stone becomes a Mountayne huge
My feete to stoppe, O faythfull harte.
Fro thee at all for to departe.
Eache stone becomes a Mountayne huge
My feete to stoppe, O faythfull harte.
Loue it hath made mine eyes so blinde
I can not see to finde the way
No maruell then if so I seeke
A bad excuse to make delay.
I can not see to finde the way
No maruell then if so I seeke
A bad excuse to make delay.
Eache howre I know will seeme a yeare
Untill thou doest returne againe.
Wherefore agaynst my will adewe,
The want of thee doth breede my payne.
Untill thou doest returne againe.
Wherefore agaynst my will adewe,
The want of thee doth breede my payne.
Returne in haste, omitte no tyme,
Thy absence spinnes a webbe of woe.
Lothe to departe come let vs daunce,
And make no haste away to goe.
Thy absence spinnes a webbe of woe.
Lothe to departe come let vs daunce,
And make no haste away to goe.
The time and tyde it tarieth none,
Wherefore this suyte is but in vayne.
Of force I see away you must,
But yet make haste to come agayne.
Wherefore this suyte is but in vayne.
Of force I see away you must,
But yet make haste to come agayne.
Adewe, farewell my faithfull friende,
As deare to me as is my harte.
Now griefe, now care, now endelesse woe
Drawes on bycause thou must departe.
As deare to me as is my harte.
Now griefe, now care, now endelesse woe
But why seeme I thy steppes to stay?
The longer stay the greater griefe:
As good at first as at the laste
Hope of returne will yeelde reliefe.
The longer stay the greater griefe:
As good at first as at the laste
Hope of returne will yeelde reliefe.
No worse to thee than to my selfe,
Adewe therefore God be thy speede.
With faythfull harte and moning minde
I wishe the Lorde to be thy guyde.
Adewe therefore God be thy speede.
With faythfull harte and moning minde
I wishe the Lorde to be thy guyde.
Farewell.
| The Golden Aphroditis | |