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 |  |
[Fields were ouer-spred with floures]
1
Fields were ouer-spred with floures,Fairest choyce of Floraes treasure:
Where they oft repos'd with pleasure:
Meadowes flourish'd fresh and gay,
Where the wanton heards did play.
2
Springs more cleare than chrystall streames,Seated were the Groues among.
Thus nor Titans scortching beames,
Nor earthes drouth could sheapheards wrong,
Faire Pomonaes fruitfull pride,
Did the budding branches hide.
3
Flockes of sheepe fed on the plaines,Harmelesse sheepe that rom'd at large:
Here and there sate pensiue Swaines,
Waiting on their wandring charge:
Pensiue while their Lasses smil'd,
Lasses which had them beguil'd.
4
Hils with Trees were richly dight,Valleis stor'd with Uestaes wealth:
Both did harbour sweet delight,
Nought was there to hinder health.
Thus did heauen grace the soile,
Not deform'd with workemens toile.
5
Purest plot of earthlie mould,Might that land be iustly named.
Art by Nature was controul'd,
Art which no such pleasures framed:
Fairer place was neuer seene,
Fittest place for beauties Queene.
[Within a Groue encompast round with trees]
Within a Groue encompast round with trees,
VVhose close set tops cleare sight of piercing eie,
Could scarce find passage through, by iust degrees
Proportioned in distance equally
As done hy skilfull Artists memorie,
A pensiue Shepheard stretch'd him on the ground,
VVhose wonted ioyes sad passions did confound.
VVhose close set tops cleare sight of piercing eie,
Could scarce find passage through, by iust degrees
Proportioned in distance equally
As done hy skilfull Artists memorie,
A pensiue Shepheard stretch'd him on the ground,
VVhose wonted ioyes sad passions did confound.
As when a blacke thicke Meteore doth ore-goe
Heau'ns light, whose vautie roofe bright orbs embosse,
The vapours late exhaled from belowe
Dimme that faire place with dregs of earth-bred drosse,
Which striuing winds doth rough the welkin tosse:
So this thicke shade, darke mansion of despaire,
Did scarce affoord an entrance to thinne aire.
Heau'ns light, whose vautie roofe bright orbs embosse,
The vapours late exhaled from belowe
Which striuing winds doth rough the welkin tosse:
So this thicke shade, darke mansion of despaire,
Did scarce affoord an entrance to thinne aire.
Vnder an Arboret embranched wide,
This fore-lorne swaine opprest with care did lie:
Vpon whose barke approching I espide,
And red engrau'd this dolefull Elegie,
As euery way I glaunc'd my rouling eie,
Sad Elegie which in few lines compriz'd:
Much care: and thus it was by him deuiz'd.
This fore-lorne swaine opprest with care did lie:
Vpon whose barke approching I espide,
And red engrau'd this dolefull Elegie,
As euery way I glaunc'd my rouling eie,
Sad Elegie which in few lines compriz'd:
Much care: and thus it was by him deuiz'd.
If I could carue on this thy tender rind,
Such deepe characters with my feeble arme,
Arme feeble through distresse of woefull mind,
As in my heart deepe cut, thicke-set doe swarme,
While earthes kind moisture fed thy blosomes pride,
These sorrow-seasond lines should firme abide.
Such deepe characters with my feeble arme,
Arme feeble through distresse of woefull mind,
As in my heart deepe cut, thicke-set doe swarme,
While earthes kind moisture fed thy blosomes pride,
These sorrow-seasond lines should firme abide.
UUhat ere thou be that passing by this way,
Readst this memoriall, search not curiouslie
My name, most haplesse name, but hast away,
Least heau'ns afflict thee with like miserie:
And gentle passenger let this remaine,
Long monument of vnknowne shepheards paine.
Readst this memoriall, search not curiouslie
My name, most haplesse name, but hast away,
Least heau'ns afflict thee with like miserie:
And gentle passenger let this remaine,
Long monument of vnknowne shepheards paine.
Hei mihi quam tardo mors pede lenta venit?
Scarse had I read this sad record enrold,
On winding barke, when lifting vp his eies
To heau'n, though he no heauen could behold,
(For ouer-spreading trees did that disguise)
He fild the aire with oft repeated cries,
And gan prepare in stile Heroicall,
To waile his loues losse and his fancies thrall.
On winding barke, when lifting vp his eies
To heau'n, though he no heauen could behold,
(For ouer-spreading trees did that disguise)
He fild the aire with oft repeated cries,
And gan prepare in stile Heroicall,
To waile his loues losse and his fancies thrall.
Goddesse and mother of the learned nine,
Mnemosyne rich treasurie of Art,
Nourse of conceit, and mysteries diuine,
Infuse a powrfull influence to my heart,
That outward mones be wraying inward smart,
My mindfull penne making rehearsall true,
May register as thus they do ensue.
Nourse of conceit, and mysteries diuine,
Infuse a powrfull influence to my heart,
That outward mones be wraying inward smart,
My mindfull penne making rehearsall true,
May register as thus they do ensue.
If plaints could penetrate the sun-bright top of Olympus,
Whose lights sweet cōfort these eies, eies moist with abundance
Of down-streaming teares since wrong'd by Fancy, beheld not:
Or th' earth yeild passage to my voice, voice hoarse with a thousād
More then a thousand mones, sending them downe to the deepe vawts,
Where Pluto Lord of Acheron enioyeth his Empire,
Or some blustring blasts conuey by force of a whirle-wind,
These my sad laments to the wide world there to be talk'd of:
Gods that dwell on high, and Fiends that lurke in Auernus:
Men that liue on earth, or saile through watery Tethys.
Gods, whose diuine shapes loues force hath oft metamorphos'd,
Fiends, whose hellish hearts no remorse, no regard euer entred,
Men whom loues deepe wounds haue prostrate laid at his altars,
All these would pitie me, but vaine wish can litle helpe me:
Yet though wish be vaine, my sad complaints I will vtter:
Though to my selfe I repeat as oft ere now I repeated,
Mones mix'd with salt teares for th' ease of harts heauy burthen,
Heart prest with sorrow, heart with care heauily loaden.
When Fortunes doome was equall, and loues fury forcelesse,
Arcadian pastures tending my flocke I frequented
Chiefe mongst the shepheards for wit, for beauty, for all things.
Oft did I win both prize and palme, when our ioly meetings
And yearly feastings solemnisd were to the great God
Pan, the God of shepheards soueraigne defender of all flockes,
And Laurell garland hath crown'd me conqueror often.
Dametas pend sweet ditties, with comely Palæmon:
And with him Lycidas, and mongst Neat-heards many gallants:
But none of these durst, though each of these had a mistresse,
Striue in praise of them with me, fearing to be vanquish'd:
Yet Lycidas had a choyce, a faire choyce, louely Felisa.
Nymphes would sit in a round comming fro the chase to refresh them
Listning vnto my songs, & vnto the tunes that I gaue thē.
With the Satyres lightly skipping, where Flora reuested,
And with sommers pride, earthes faire greene mantle adorned,
And th' hornfeet halfe-gods, with all the progeny rurall:
The wind-wing'd Naiads spring-haunting Naiades, all these
Did me requite, whose pen with praise they gently rewarded.
Each faire shepheardesse was with my company gladded:
Me Galathea fauourd, yet was Galathea reiected:
Me faire Phillis lik'd, but Phillis could not I fancy.
Thestylis and Daphne, both faire, both woo'd me with offers:
Thestylis and Daphne, both faire, were fondly repulsed:
Kind girles, fit epithete for girles so kind, but vnhappy.
The snow-white Hyalus worlds wonder, faire as Adonis,
Scornd Nymphes allurements, and Heardmens gifts he refused:
But me the boy did loue, and in coole shade I remember,
With me reposing oft, Philomeles cleare notes he resembling,
With voyce Angelicall, my ditties sweetly recorded.
But nor he, nor they could my fond affection alter,
Whose care-cras'd hart, and loue-pierc'd thoughts fair Amaryllis,
Held in pleasing thrall: for then it seem'd so: but aie me,
Now I repent too late, too late I repent that I thought so.
Her did I greet, and fairly salute each morne with a present:
But proud girle, coy girle, though presents some she receiued,
Yet she refus'd the most, and better not be receiued,
Then be receiued so: with feigned smiles she rewarded,
My not feind good-will: and when by chance I beheld her,
Walking on the plaines, if I did draw neere to salute her:
Then wing'd with desdaine, more swift in pace she returned,
Then light-foot Daphne shunning the sight of Apollo,
Flying his pursute and bootlesse chase, with a stubborne
And peruerse conceit: like her was coy Amaryllis.
Forme she loath'd, although her I lou'd, and in many ditties,
(Few such ditties were) her beauties praise I recounted.
Fames shrill eternall trumpet through Arcadie, sounded
Her matchlesse vertues, and gentle fame the reuenger
Of my causelesse wrongs, her coynes hath so recorded.
(Fame which from my penne large matterfully receiued)
That sea-bred Dolphins, and misform'd waterie Monsters,
Shall in the welkin sport them with loftie Laualtos,
And saile-bearing pine glide through thin aire with a Syren,
Swimming neere the sterne, and Ioues bird lodg'd in Olympus,
The royall Eagle chiefe Lord and lordly regarder
Of the featherd brood with his wing'd army repairing.
Downe to the late-left boure of Nereus and Thetis and all,
That lodge in watrie cabinets, shall sooner abide there,
And for euer dwell there then fames sound which memorised,
Her desdainefull pride be cleane forgot by the shepheards,
Or mongst th' Arcadians my sorrowes not be remembred.
Yet vaine was my labour small comfort thence I receiued,
For she lou'd an other though farre vnfit to be riuall
With me which did surpasse him that nor very witty,
Nor verie comely was: all Arcadie knowes that I feine not,
Nor fond boasting vse, yet was he receiu'd, I reiected.
Pardon faire, fairer then any fairest Amaryllis,
Pardon sweet, more sweet then any most sweet Amaryllis,
Though thou absent be, yet craue I pardon O pardon,
Those my wrathfull lookes ore-cast with frownes neuer vsed,
Till thy misdeeming censure did wrong so the shepheard,
Whose match for loyall seruice wide world neuer harbourd:
Except loues martyr, loues wonder gentle Amintas.
O pardon those impatient thoughts which I did vtter
In blasphemous words, blaspheming thee Amaryllis,
Cursing those graces wherewith nature did adorne thee,
And on thy pride exclaiming fond passion vrg'd me,
Then when I saw my riual speed, my selfe so reiected,
Then did it vrge me so, that mou'd with more then a wonted
Griefe of mind, I vowd to renounce the state of a shepheard,
State too good for me which vow too well I remembred.
For leauing all the pleasures which Arcadie yeelded,
Cleare springs, faire fountaines, greene meadows, & shady valleis
Where, while flocke did graze, sometimes I sweetly reposing,
Did meditate on loue, when loue was friend to my fancy,
Leauing these, loathing my selfe, looking for a speedy
End of care, I remaind alone, all companie shunning,
To grace thassemblies of Shepheards oft I refused,
Sheep were left a pray to the wolfe, sheep which me beholding,
Droupt in deepe sorrow, with bleating seemd to bemone me,
Gentle sheepe, kinde beasts, more kinde then coye Amaryllis,
Thus I resolu'd to seeeke a place, fitte place for an abiect,
Found this darksome groue, since when still heere I remained,
Heer to the woods I waild: woods seemd to grone whē I wailed,
Heer to the trees I mon'd, trees seemd to bend when I mon'd me,
Heer to the winds I mournd, winds sent calme blasts to releiue me
Thus to the woods, to the winds, to the trees, to the flouds, to the fountains
& to the thinnest aire, to the valleis & to the moūtains,
Framing sad laments, more comfort haue I receiued,
From these, then from the coye lookes of proud Amaryllis,
Kinde Eccho was mou'd, her like mishap she remembring,
Ioyn'd her mones to mine, my last words gently repeating:
And the chirping birds attentiue vnto my sorrowes,
Chang'd their pleasant notes for mournfull tunes to bewaile me.
But why talke I thus? all these could smally relieue me,
Slowe death when com'st thou? slow death can wholy release me.
Whose lights sweet cōfort these eies, eies moist with abundance
Of down-streaming teares since wrong'd by Fancy, beheld not:
Or th' earth yeild passage to my voice, voice hoarse with a thousād
More then a thousand mones, sending them downe to the deepe vawts,
Where Pluto Lord of Acheron enioyeth his Empire,
Or some blustring blasts conuey by force of a whirle-wind,
These my sad laments to the wide world there to be talk'd of:
Gods that dwell on high, and Fiends that lurke in Auernus:
Men that liue on earth, or saile through watery Tethys.
Gods, whose diuine shapes loues force hath oft metamorphos'd,
Fiends, whose hellish hearts no remorse, no regard euer entred,
Men whom loues deepe wounds haue prostrate laid at his altars,
All these would pitie me, but vaine wish can litle helpe me:
Yet though wish be vaine, my sad complaints I will vtter:
Though to my selfe I repeat as oft ere now I repeated,
Mones mix'd with salt teares for th' ease of harts heauy burthen,
Heart prest with sorrow, heart with care heauily loaden.
When Fortunes doome was equall, and loues fury forcelesse,
Arcadian pastures tending my flocke I frequented
Chiefe mongst the shepheards for wit, for beauty, for all things.
Oft did I win both prize and palme, when our ioly meetings
And yearly feastings solemnisd were to the great God
Pan, the God of shepheards soueraigne defender of all flockes,
And Laurell garland hath crown'd me conqueror often.
Dametas pend sweet ditties, with comely Palæmon:
And with him Lycidas, and mongst Neat-heards many gallants:
But none of these durst, though each of these had a mistresse,
Striue in praise of them with me, fearing to be vanquish'd:
Yet Lycidas had a choyce, a faire choyce, louely Felisa.
Listning vnto my songs, & vnto the tunes that I gaue thē.
With the Satyres lightly skipping, where Flora reuested,
And with sommers pride, earthes faire greene mantle adorned,
And th' hornfeet halfe-gods, with all the progeny rurall:
The wind-wing'd Naiads spring-haunting Naiades, all these
Did me requite, whose pen with praise they gently rewarded.
Each faire shepheardesse was with my company gladded:
Me Galathea fauourd, yet was Galathea reiected:
Me faire Phillis lik'd, but Phillis could not I fancy.
Thestylis and Daphne, both faire, both woo'd me with offers:
Thestylis and Daphne, both faire, were fondly repulsed:
Kind girles, fit epithete for girles so kind, but vnhappy.
The snow-white Hyalus worlds wonder, faire as Adonis,
Scornd Nymphes allurements, and Heardmens gifts he refused:
But me the boy did loue, and in coole shade I remember,
With me reposing oft, Philomeles cleare notes he resembling,
With voyce Angelicall, my ditties sweetly recorded.
But nor he, nor they could my fond affection alter,
Whose care-cras'd hart, and loue-pierc'd thoughts fair Amaryllis,
Held in pleasing thrall: for then it seem'd so: but aie me,
Now I repent too late, too late I repent that I thought so.
Her did I greet, and fairly salute each morne with a present:
But proud girle, coy girle, though presents some she receiued,
Yet she refus'd the most, and better not be receiued,
Then be receiued so: with feigned smiles she rewarded,
My not feind good-will: and when by chance I beheld her,
Walking on the plaines, if I did draw neere to salute her:
Then wing'd with desdaine, more swift in pace she returned,
Then light-foot Daphne shunning the sight of Apollo,
Flying his pursute and bootlesse chase, with a stubborne
And peruerse conceit: like her was coy Amaryllis.
Forme she loath'd, although her I lou'd, and in many ditties,
(Few such ditties were) her beauties praise I recounted.
Fames shrill eternall trumpet through Arcadie, sounded
Her matchlesse vertues, and gentle fame the reuenger
Of my causelesse wrongs, her coynes hath so recorded.
That sea-bred Dolphins, and misform'd waterie Monsters,
Shall in the welkin sport them with loftie Laualtos,
And saile-bearing pine glide through thin aire with a Syren,
Swimming neere the sterne, and Ioues bird lodg'd in Olympus,
The royall Eagle chiefe Lord and lordly regarder
Of the featherd brood with his wing'd army repairing.
Downe to the late-left boure of Nereus and Thetis and all,
That lodge in watrie cabinets, shall sooner abide there,
And for euer dwell there then fames sound which memorised,
Her desdainefull pride be cleane forgot by the shepheards,
Or mongst th' Arcadians my sorrowes not be remembred.
Yet vaine was my labour small comfort thence I receiued,
For she lou'd an other though farre vnfit to be riuall
With me which did surpasse him that nor very witty,
Nor verie comely was: all Arcadie knowes that I feine not,
Nor fond boasting vse, yet was he receiu'd, I reiected.
Pardon faire, fairer then any fairest Amaryllis,
Pardon sweet, more sweet then any most sweet Amaryllis,
Though thou absent be, yet craue I pardon O pardon,
Those my wrathfull lookes ore-cast with frownes neuer vsed,
Till thy misdeeming censure did wrong so the shepheard,
Whose match for loyall seruice wide world neuer harbourd:
Except loues martyr, loues wonder gentle Amintas.
O pardon those impatient thoughts which I did vtter
In blasphemous words, blaspheming thee Amaryllis,
Cursing those graces wherewith nature did adorne thee,
And on thy pride exclaiming fond passion vrg'd me,
Then when I saw my riual speed, my selfe so reiected,
Then did it vrge me so, that mou'd with more then a wonted
Griefe of mind, I vowd to renounce the state of a shepheard,
State too good for me which vow too well I remembred.
For leauing all the pleasures which Arcadie yeelded,
Cleare springs, faire fountaines, greene meadows, & shady valleis
Where, while flocke did graze, sometimes I sweetly reposing,
Did meditate on loue, when loue was friend to my fancy,
Leauing these, loathing my selfe, looking for a speedy
To grace thassemblies of Shepheards oft I refused,
Sheep were left a pray to the wolfe, sheep which me beholding,
Droupt in deepe sorrow, with bleating seemd to bemone me,
Gentle sheepe, kinde beasts, more kinde then coye Amaryllis,
Thus I resolu'd to seeeke a place, fitte place for an abiect,
Found this darksome groue, since when still heere I remained,
Heer to the woods I waild: woods seemd to grone whē I wailed,
Heer to the trees I mon'd, trees seemd to bend when I mon'd me,
Heer to the winds I mournd, winds sent calme blasts to releiue me
Thus to the woods, to the winds, to the trees, to the flouds, to the fountains
& to the thinnest aire, to the valleis & to the moūtains,
Framing sad laments, more comfort haue I receiued,
From these, then from the coye lookes of proud Amaryllis,
Kinde Eccho was mou'd, her like mishap she remembring,
Ioyn'd her mones to mine, my last words gently repeating:
And the chirping birds attentiue vnto my sorrowes,
Chang'd their pleasant notes for mournfull tunes to bewaile me.
But why talke I thus? all these could smally relieue me,
Slowe death when com'st thou? slow death can wholy release me.
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.
[Faire mistresse, when the Heifar plaide with pleasure]
[Shepherd.]
Faire mistresse, when the Heifar plaide with pleasure,
You smild, I sobd, for smiles could not relieue me:
His fearelesse life, your freedomes worth did measure:
Which causd you smile, and with your smiles to grieue me.
But though you smiling seemed to deny me,
Yet this kinde fauour proues twas but to trie me.
You smild, I sobd, for smiles could not relieue me:
His fearelesse life, your freedomes worth did measure:
Which causd you smile, and with your smiles to grieue me.
But though you smiling seemed to deny me,
Yet this kinde fauour proues twas but to trie me.
More faithfull Swaine was neuer tryde of any,
More true, more trustie, to his dearest loue:
A rare example, and vnknowne of manie,
Which doe their seruants lightnesse oft reproue.
Henceforth bold thoughts: despaire shall not confound me,
Eyes gald, smiles kild, but gentle hands haue crownd me.
More true, more trustie, to his dearest loue:
A rare example, and vnknowne of manie,
Which doe their seruants lightnesse oft reproue.
Eyes gald, smiles kild, but gentle hands haue crownd me.
[Shepherdess.]
When wanton Heifar sported heere and there,
I smild as soueraigne of mine owne desires:
When thou didst sob, my smiles renewed were,
To see thee scorch'd with loues enflaming fires:
Yet loth to wrong the truth of thy intent
I gaue thee hope, and staide thy sad lament.
I smild as soueraigne of mine owne desires:
When thou didst sob, my smiles renewed were,
To see thee scorch'd with loues enflaming fires:
Yet loth to wrong the truth of thy intent
I gaue thee hope, and staide thy sad lament.
I smild though not as mou'd with coy desdeigne;
But with a garland crownd thy head to please thee:
Smiles were renewd, not to deride thy peine,
But to reioyce that I alone could ease thee.
Sob then no more, but if thou loue at all,
Esteeme no freedome like this pleasing thrall.
But with a garland crownd thy head to please thee:
Smiles were renewd, not to deride thy peine,
But to reioyce that I alone could ease thee.
Sob then no more, but if thou loue at all,
Esteeme no freedome like this pleasing thrall.
Shepheard.
Sweet thrall first step to loues felicitie,
Shepheardesse.
Sweete thrall no stop to perfect libertie.
Shep.
O life.
Shee.
What life?
He.
Sweete life.
Shee.
No life more sweete.
He.
O loue.
Shee.
What loue.
He.
Sweete love.
Shee.
No loue more meete.
Amor melle & felle fœcundissimus
Loues sweete is oft mixed with sowre.
What life, what loue, dooth rest in Womens lookes?
What hap, what hope, haue they whom beauty snares?
Coye dame no bold conceit in seruant brookes,
But for her captiue still new thrall prepares,
And loades his heart with new enforced cares.
Thus hopes he still for that he nere shall finde,
Such are the trophæs of proud womankinde.
What hap, what hope, haue they whom beauty snares?
Coye dame no bold conceit in seruant brookes,
But for her captiue still new thrall prepares,
And loades his heart with new enforced cares.
Thus hopes he still for that he nere shall finde,
Such are the trophæs of proud womankinde.
What life, what loue, if not in womens lookes?
What hap, what hope, like theirs whom beauty snares?
Faire dame no fond despaire in seruant brookes,
But for her captiue still new ioy prepares,
Easing his heart of vnbeseeming cares.
Thus what he hopes, he shalbe sure to finde,
Such is the sexe of glorious womankinde.
What hap, what hope, like theirs whom beauty snares?
Faire dame no fond despaire in seruant brookes,
But for her captiue still new ioy prepares,
Thus what he hopes, he shalbe sure to finde,
Such is the sexe of glorious womankinde.
[Vnder this tree faire Phyllis did relent]
Vnder this tree faire Phyllis did relent,
And Tityrus receiud his first content.
And Tityrus receiud his first content.
Faire Queene of loue to whom this tree belongs,
Next Phyllis, thou shalt grace the shepheards songs.
Next Phyllis, thou shalt grace the shepheards songs.
Apolloes laurel to this tree shall yeeld,
For Phillis deems the Myrtle cheefe in Field.
For Phillis deems the Myrtle cheefe in Field.
The sillie Swaine whose loue breedes discontent,
Thinks death a trifle, life a lothsome thing:
Sad he lookes, sad he lyes:
But when his fortunes malice doth relent,
Then of loues sweetnesse, he will sweetly sing:
Thus he liues, thus he dyes:
Then Tityrus whom Loue hath happie made,
Will rest thrise happie in this myrtle shade,
For though loue at first did grieue him,
Yet did loue at last relieue him.
Thinks death a trifle, life a lothsome thing:
Sad he lookes, sad he lyes:
But when his fortunes malice doth relent,
Then of loues sweetnesse, he will sweetly sing:
Thus he liues, thus he dyes:
Then Tityrus whom Loue hath happie made,
Will rest thrise happie in this myrtle shade,
For though loue at first did grieue him,
Yet did loue at last relieue him.
[Heere beauties wonder lately slaine doth lie]
Heere beauties wonder lately slaine doth lie,Whome angrie Cinthiaes wrath did doome to die.
| The Shepheardes Complaint | |