University of Virginia Library

The shepheards Hollidaie.

[In statelie Romance of the worthie liues]

In statelie Romance of the worthie liues,
Of mightie princes free from fortunes grieues,
An such as whilom in their kingly raygne,
Of vertues selfe were deemed soueraigne,
From out the stocke of euery princely line,
A choyce was made of noble worthies nine.
Of these and such as these a manie moe,
Haue diuers Poets written long agoe.
In skilfull verse and to the world made knewne,
The sondrie vertues in their liues that shone.
For kingdomes well we know and statelie ruls,
Possessions large and chaire of honours stoole,
Gold pearle and stones with iewels rich of ptice,
Large pallaces built by deintie rare deuice.
Yea all the pompe that worlde can here afford,
Or maste of treasure laide in manie a hoorde
Ne are each one but for the roome they beare,
A mortall shewe that earthly honors reare
But when we come to talke of worthines
Of kinglie actes and Princely noblenes,
Of right renowne each where that spredeth farre
Of honored titles both in peace and warre,
Of their decease that euer liue by fame.
Tis vertue then that yeeldes a glorious name,
The welth of Crœsus quickelie was forgot
Darius eke his rule by death did blot
And Philips sonne the Macedonian king,
His latest powre in shrowde of graue did bring
King Dauids sonne the tipe of sapience
That whilome liud in greatest excellence
His gloryous state in life wherein he was,
Is sheuered all like to a broken glas
His rich attire his pompe and dailie charge
His rarest buildings, chambers wide and large
His temple huge with pillers stately built
Sweet smelling roofe with rafters ouer guilt
The plated walles of brightest golde vpon,
And costlie siluer fret with manie a stone.
His pallace and the numbred square degrees,
That from his throne a deepe discent contriues,
With equal numbers matcht of lions strong,
Of massie golde vpholding pillers long
Of marble white, with veines by nature wrought
In precious wise, as rich as may be thought:
His costly throne bright shining to the eie,
That in it selfe reteind a dignitie,
His many pleasures thousands moe than one,
In walkes, in fruits, in fountaines wrought of stone,
In musike strange, in sugred harmonie,
By sound stroke and voices melodie,
In quicke solucions made of strange demands,
In sundrie artes wrought foorth by diuers handes
In womens pleasures and their sugred smiles
In all the giftes of fortune and her wiles
In what by nature could for sweete delight
Befit the mind or please the outward sight
What each conceipt imagine could or scan
That might contenting be to any man
All this and more by all that may be thought
On earth to please or liking breede in ought
Were it in skill, in word, or power to frame
The same in him did breede a glorious name
Yet perisht is his rich and fine aray
So that as erst I may conclude to saye
These gifts of fortune, sounds of earthly glorie,
Are of themselues but meerely transitorie,
The greatest Prince, but while he liues in powre
Renowmed is, and after in one howre
If vertue be not then to him more kinde,
His death him reaues full quickly out of minde.
Then not for nought the woorthies heeretofore,
That praised were in elder times of yore,
And named chiefe of many Princes erst
On honors palme to reare a stately crest,
Did studie stil for vertue by their names,
To be renowmed with sundry kinde of fames,
As some for zeale and some for pietie,
Some for their warres and noted cheualrie,
Some of their triumphs had by lands subdued,
Some of their acts by labours eft renued,
And each for bountie bright in them that shone,
For which therebe that haue bene famde alone,
And so of right ought euery noble minde,
To vaunt himselfe by verie natures kinde,
Who for they were put forth of finest mould,
As by instinct of neate and purest golde
That cleansed is from worst of natures drosse,
Or tallest timber growing free from mosse,
So is in truth eche stately noble wight,
Of very kinde, and so should proue aright,
So Alcibiades to his endles praise
The stately lauds of mighty Greece did raise:
So did with Galles the worthie Charlemaine,
So sundry kings in Britaine that did raigne,
So Albion had hir mightie Edwardes, peeres
(And Henries eke) to greatest conquerers,
So hath our isle (and euer praies to gaine
The ioy it hath) a peerelesse soueraigne,
So Brutus land inuicted euer liues,
By selfe instinct it proper vertue giues,
Yet guided stil (what vertue else could vaile)
By grace diuine which neuer shall it faile,
Such is the cause that prict with former praise,
Of worthie wightes that liud in auntient daies
The seedes long since of all their vertues sowen,
From time to time are stil sprong vp and growen.
And springes and buds with ripest fruites are seene,
Of elder stalkes that erst before haue bene,
So vertue swaies (what end of vertues raigne
So long vpheld by Peres and Soueraigne)
O pierles vertue knit with endles fame,
Do guide my skil and shrowde my Muse from blame,
Thy praise it is, thy mightie praises I
In royall race do seeke to magnifie
Immortall fawtors sacred sisters nine,
Of sugre dartes shew forth your powers deuine,
Let not your Poet blemish with his vaine,
The honored steps of her that sues your traine
Yet blemish must he or vnshadowed fittes
Set forth of her, who daunts the finest wittes,
Can earthly eies geue in sight to the sonne,
Or reach the course that Phœbe faire doth ronne,
Can men the waters in a measure holde,
Or thinke on all that may on earth be tolde,
Is it in powre the skies to comprehende
Or witte of man the starres to bring to ende.
With reuerence yet though vertue seeme deuine,
Men may proceede to touch her sacred shrine.
All haue not treft he skill to speake aright,
Nor may they aime thereat if so they might,
Immortal Phœbus radiant in his beames
Yeelds dazled sight, for gazing on his gleames,
More stately graces mighty powres do shend,
Than meanest wits are apt to comprehend,
Yet feedes Apollo fresh Auroras raies,
And fluttring fowles that chirp with pleasant laies,
So Philomene in shade of gloomy night,
When Dian faire shewes foorth hir siluer whight,
Recordes the comfort of hir sorrows past,
By change of times releeued from winters blast,
And as the graces of these beauties sheene,
Enuirond haue thee peerelesse noble Queene
So peereles, for thou art a stately iem,
O care of skies whome God and men esteeme
By all thy bountie shed in princely line,
By all thy vertues which are saide diuine,
By all the fauours that thou hast from skies,
And euery blisse that on thy safegard lies,
Assent I pray, and lowlie I beseech
Vnto my muse thy gratious hands to streteh,
Of Shepheards ioy, so boldely dare I sing,
And happy sway thy gladsome yeares do bring,
Of faire Eliza then shal I be prest,
To chaunt the praise that in hir vertues rest.
No other sound shal be to me so deere,
As in my song to praise this goddesse peere,
Hir noble worthies and hir stately knights,
Whose honored acts in sundry valiant fights,
Whose councell graue, whose sage aduise at home,
Resembling much the flowring state of Rome
Commend the titles of their endlesse praise:
But first (O Queene) of thee shall be my laies,
Thou stately Nymph, that in the shadie groues
The fayrest art, of all whome Dian loues:
With quiuer deckt in glittering rayes of golde
Thy maydens bowe full seemely dost thou holde.
Thy garments are of siluer shining white,
Thy feature rare, and filde with sweete delight.
Thy golden tresse like Phœbus burnisht chaire
Whom sweete Zephyrus puffes with pleasant ayre:
Like Venus selfe (or if but one then she,
Of all the Nymphes may more surpasing be)
Then like to hir, or hir excelling farre,
Thy seemely hue all other features barre.
Thy gestures are on honors placed hie,
Thy lookes doe beare a princely Maiestie.
Thy honored minde with dignitie is clad,
Thy bountie rare the like but seldome seene.
And port-like shewe beseeming such a Queene,
Thy nurse was Skill, Minerua gaue thee sucke,
And Iuno prest to yeelde thee happie lucke:
Thy cradle was on Tempe placed hie,
Within the walkes of pleasant Thessalie,
Full oft within those virgine yeares of thine,
Both Jda woods and bankes of Muses nine,
Both Pegase spring and forked mountayne top,
Hast thou possest, and euerie roote and crop.
That Science yeeldes with all the sweete delights,
Where Poets wont refresh their dulled sprights:
Thy skilfull eye by choyce hath marked eft,
And from thy thoughts they neuer were bereft:
At morning walkes when forth thou list to go,
A crue of Nymphs attend thee too and fro,
Like fragrant smell of sweete Auroras dew,
When as the twinnes in Titan gin to shew,
The freshest prime of all the pleasant yeare,
When lustie greene the brauest hue doth beare,
Or like the blossomes hie on branches sweete,
That stilled liquor of the morne hath weete.
Or as the beames of Thetis louer true,
When from hir bed he is but risen nue,
In easterne skies to cast his cheerefull raies,
Fore-dulled mindes in spring from dumps to raies.
So comst thou forth in royall vestures dight,
Fresh as the Rose, of colour red and whight:
The glorie great of Brutus great renowne,
Distilling fauors each where drophing downe
The rurall gods, about my chariot flocke,
That milke-white steeds of Pegase heauenly stocke,
With breathing nosthrils spatling fire amaine,
Do trampling drawe, and fomie bits constraine.
Thy virgin sway the gastly impes admire,
And seeke by flight to shunne their deepe desire,
Which wish to see, and cannot gaze their fill
Vpon hir shape whom yet they honor still,
Of youthfull peeres eke issue foorth a route
That fiercely mounted hie thy chayre about,
Like to the traine that once Bellona led,
When on her altars prowde they incense shed
Triumphant on the honor and the spoile,
That fell to Rome by mightie Affrickes foile,
They stately stride, and beating earth and skies,
With nighing sound of horses lowd that flies
Now here now there, this one, and that amayne,
Doth ioy himselfe to shew in formost trayne,
With curled lockes like to the blooming spring.
And colours deckt that secret sauours bring,
In costly robes of Pallas curious wrought,
Bedect with gold and pearles from Pastole brought,
Then Phœbe like thou gladsome mornings starre,
To them appearst, or like the gleames afarre
That issue foorth before the glittering chayre,
When Phœbus first him busseth in the ayre,
And salued is with fauours bright and sheene,
Of hir that called in the Mornings Queene,
Who vailing of her hue that is so white,
The darkened shadowe of the glomie night,
Distressed hartes that long the day to see,
Forthwith doth lade with euerie kinde of glee
Such (gracious Nimphe) so pleasing is thy face,
Like comfort yeeldes thy hie distilling grace,
A heauens repose to seelie shepheards is,
To vewe the shadoe of thy heauenly blis,
And when thy pleasures be to rest thee downe
Or neere the fountaine spring at after noone,
Amidst the shades of hiest toppes to straie,
To fore the euening in a sommers daie,
Where coolest blastes of sweete Zephyrus straines,
His gentle breath throughout his pleasant vaines
Each chirping birde his notes wel tuned hie,
Yeeldes forth to thee their sweetest harmonie,
The fairest then of al the gallant crue
Of water Nymphs, that fields and fountaines sue,
And such as haunt with siluer bowe the chace,
Thy virgin steppes ful meekely do embrace,
The Satyres and of shepheardes mightie Pan,
Commandes the fields to thy obedience than.
Since Ceres first these thickie groues pursued,
And countrie soile with sacred walkes endued.
Since that Apollos curled lockes of gold,
For Daphnis loue in tresses gan to fold,
Since that Actæon by the water side,
Transformed was in forest large and wide.
There neuer Nymphe so chairie was to viewe,
That did the walkes of Phœbe chaste pursue
Nor of such honor blasing in each eie,
Nor crowned so with stately dignitie,
Nor to her Peeres and vassalls also deere,
Nor of such port and euer louing cheere,
Ne middest so manie that right famous beene,
In grounded Science was so throughly seene:
Nor better could with Muses al accorde,
Nor vnto whom the gods could more afforde,
Nor yet of Uirtue held so hie a prize,
Nor in all knowledge deemed was so wize,
Nor kept by peace, more quiet all her daies,
Ne happy stood so many diuers waies,
As faire Eliza thou of heauens the care,
The elder times ne may with thee compare,
For if I should thy soueraignetie descriue,
These 29. yeares for to contriue,
Thy royall state and glory passing great,
Thy wondrous acts if here I should repeat,
Th' unspotted honor of thy princely race,
And how thou rulest now with kingly mace,
The riches that by this thy rule abound,
The happie daies that we for thee haue found,
Thy bountie shining as the christall skie,
Thy yeares replenisht with all clemencie,
The load star of thy gracious sweete conceipt,
Yea when it was surprizd by deepe deceipt,
It were a world to thinke vpon the same,
So honored is each where thy Princely fame,
Not English shore alone but farther coasts,
Both of thy name and of thy honour boasts,
In vncouth seas, in soile till then vnknowne,
Thy worthy Captaines haue thy praises blowne,
And pillers set and markes of signorie,
Aduauncing there thy mightie Monarchie,
And lands subdued tofore by forraigne states,
That heare report of these thy blisful fates,
And of thy peereles name so mightly borne,
And how thy Uirtues do thy seat adorne,
The glorie of thy stately swaie and power,
That springeth vp as doth the lillie flower,
They sue and seeke and humblie make request,
To yeeld them-selues vnto thy hie behest,
So sacred Queene so fittes the noble name,
Of this our Island stil to rule with fame,
So fits that she who others doth excell,
Be deemd from all to beare away the bell,
Eft haue the shepeheards song thy sweetest praise,
And them ychaunted on their holidaies,
Eft in their feasts they doe record thy deedes,
And regall mind whence all thine acts proceedes,
And with halfe sounding voice of shiuering dread,
As men amazed at thy seemely head,
They with whispering sound as eft thou passest by,
They praie to Ioue to keepe thy Maiestie,
Lo thus can shepeheards of thine honour sing,
That of their ioies, art verie root and spring,
Thus Melibœus of thy honored name,
That from the line of mightiest Princes came,
Of all thy virtues and thy statelines,
Which art the crop of verie gentlenes,
Reioyceth are his tunes thereon to frame,
And meekely praies thou shend his Muse from blame.

[Phœbus vouchsafe thy sacred Muse to lend]

[Lul pleasant fancie, bring my thoughts to rest]

Phænicia.
Lul pleasant fancie, bring my thoughts to rest

Licoria.
O delicate Fancie,

Phœn.
The Muses on Ida sweete Phœbus be prest,
That whilest I admire hir whō heau'ns do loue best,

Lic.
This most sugred Fancie,

Phæ.
Wherewith my delightes are fully possest,
With musicall harmonie, with songs of delight,

Both
All haile noble Princesse may sound in her sight.

Phæ.
Faire Phæbe thou knowest my muze doth not lie

Lico.
In chaunting this fancie,

Phæ.
If pearlesse I vaunt her whom precious in skie
Thou praizedst for perfect to blaze in our eie,

Lico.
Extolling my fancie,

Phæ.
O deintie surpassing sweete Goddesse say I,
Enhaunsing thine honors whence all our ioyes spring,

Both
Thrise blisfull Eliza thy handmaids doe sing.

[Since first thy soile O countrie Pan I knewe]

Since first thy soile O countrie Pan I knewe,
Since on the dales my sheepe long time I fed,
Since in my heart the sweete remembrance grewe,
Of all these valleis where the Nymphes do tread.
Since first thy groues and pleasant shadie topps,
Thy christall springs and scituate hie prospects,
The sacred dewes which from the braunches drops.
That fresh Pomonæ on thy groundes erects:
Since all these pleasures thousands mo then one
My auntient yeares partaked haue ere this
The mightie Ioue doth know wherein alone,
I haue repozd the somme of all my blis.
To Tytirus not all the yeaned lammes,
Nor of his flock a rich encrease to gaine,
Ne sporting hops of young kiddes by their dams,
Are halfe so pleasing or to him so faine
As are (Eliza blisfull maiden Queene)
The sweete recorde of all thy happie daies,
Those thoughts to me, full oft haue gladsome beene,
And on these ioies consist my shepheards laies,
O happie soile long happie maiest thou stand
So sacred be thy mountaines and thy groues
So be the walkes of that thy pleasant land,
Frequented eft with store of fatted droues,
Let be thy glorie like the shining sonne
That glides as far as doth the whirling sphere,
And as the course from whence the riuers ronne
That through the earth a compasse round do beare.
First faile the skies first Phœbus cease to raunge
First christal dewes back to your springs returne
First heate and cold desist your daily chaunge,
And let the fire leaue of his force to burne,
Let Phœbe first by night her wandring staie
And darkened be to vs the starrie pole,
Let Phaeton lose againe the milkie waie
And fishes leaue to swimme within the poole,
Cease birdes to flie cease Philomene thy song
And yearely spring that yeldes of fruites encrease,
And ycie drops that dangling vnder song,
Thy frozen chin let (Saturne) euer cease,
Ere Brutus soile, thou seate of mightie kings,
The antient race of haughtie princes peeres,
Ere from thy lappe the slippe whence honor springs,
By this default do loose the sway it beares,
Ere thou the glorie of the present rule,
And honor tied long since to thy desert,
Thy stately conquests neere that didst recule
With cloked guile doost seeke for to insert,
But waste thy glory with the mightiest powres
And stay thine honor on the greatest fame,
And selfe-same time that al things els deuoures,
Renue thy faith, and yeeld thee glorious name,
As faire thy fate as are thy happie yeares,
As firme thy seate as euer Princes was,
Great be thy sway as any strength that reares
The mightiest force that euer man did pas:
And fairest thou of al the Nymphs that haunt
These sacred walkes, in which we shepheards wone,
So Ioue vouchsafe our springs of thee may vaunt,
As erst before our fertile fieldes haue done.

[Geue me thy Syrinx, Pan, giue me thy flute]

Geue me thy Syrinx, Pan, giue me thy flute,
(A worthier musike farre, beseemes my laies)
In speach of her I tel, the best are mute,
And may not weld the greatnes of her praise,
If any Muse of all the Nymphs that staies
About these walkes and louely pleasant springs
Haue greater gift then others, let them raies,
The sweetned lawdes that faire Eliza, brings,
And sharpened be my wits, O God of Loue,
(Loue hath men saie a furie tha'ts deuine)
Yelde me the scope of thy delights to proue
And in my brest thy sweetned fancies shrine,
O would my pipe had such proportions fine,
Or that deriu'd from greatest excellence,
My endles skil her fewtures could define,
Whom gods and men admire with reuerence,
Vouchsafe my Goddesse yet vouchsafe to see,
The wil I haue to weld so hie aspects,
Yet shall it be hence-forth a grace to mee,
That Loue thy name within my Muse erects,
Much gratious Soueraigne t'is that Loue effects,
Wherein if skilful Pan and Nymphes me faile,
My actiue forces shall with large respects,
Compence the rest, and yeeld me more auaile,
Let be as yet for this not all in vaine,
My sacrifice, my vowes, and praiers eke,
Wherein O Nymphe, thy fame shall aie remaine,
Enhaunst by those that to thy Bountie seeke.