ECLOGUES.
i. Eclogue.
[Damon and Moeris by a christal spring]
Damon and Moeris by a christal spring
Vher a greene sicamour did make a schade,
And fairest floures the banckes all couering,
Theer oft to stay the vandring Nymphes had made,
Vhile voods musicians from the trees aboue
On eurye branche did varble furth ther loue,
On grassie bed all tyrd them selues did lay
To schune suns heat and passe the tedious houres
Delyting now to see theer lambkins play
Then to veaue garlands for theer paramours.
Damon tormentet vas with Amarillis
And Moeris brunt in loue of farest Phillis.
Phillis the louliest lasse that flockes ere fed
By Tanais siluer streames, vhos heaunlie eie
In chaines of gold this shephard captiue led,
Or he knew vhat vas loue or libertie.
Sweet Amarillis far aboue the rest
Of Askloua maids estimed the best.
In curious knotes vhile thay theer vorke adorne,
Mixing pyed dezies with sad violets,
Vhit lilies with that flour vhich like the morne
Doth blush and beautie to the garland sets,
Damon, vhom loue and voes had sore dismaid,
Thus gan to say or Loue thus for him said.
Faire Tanais Nymphes & ye Nymphes of the voods
Vhich usse in schadie groues to dance and sing,
Ye Montaine sisters sisters of the floods
On softest sand vhich oft ar carroling,
Heere bring your flours and this garland make faire
To set vpon my Phillis amber haire.
Do not disdaine to be a schade, sweet flours,
To fairest tresses vnder vhich doth grow
The rose and lilie far excelling yours,
The red cinabre and the milke vhit snow.
About her temples vhen I sal yow place
Them you can not (sweet flowres) they shall yow grace.
Suouft vinged archers & ye sea-borne queene,
In Mirrhas child if yee tooke ere delight,
If ere vith flames your hart hath touched beene,
Enambushd lie you by this red & vhit,
That vhen her lockes this coronet anademe sal part,
A hundred cupids may steal to her hart.
Her hart then coldest Alpine yce more cold,
Mor hard yet precious as the diamond,
The noblest conquest that vith dart of gold
Loue euer made since he culd shoot or vound.
But he that fort not darring to essay
Contents you vith her eies & ther doth play.
Nou Ceres tuise hath cut her yellow lockes,
The swellow tuise the spring about hath brocht,
Tuise hath ve vaind the yonglins of our flockes
Since I alas vas forc't, & al for naught,
Be cruel her to cry, veep & complaine
Vnto this montaine, forrest, riuer, plaine.
My flockes sem'd partneres of ther masters voe:
The Bell-bearer the troupes that vsd to lead
His vsuall feading places did forgoe,
And lothing three-leu'd grasse hold vp his head;
The valkes, the groues which I did hant of yore
My fate and Phillis hardnesse seemd deplore.
The goate-foote syluans vnder schadie trees
Did solemnize the accents of my plent
Vith grones, the vatrie Nymphes with veeping eies
And vide spred lockes I oft haue seen lament.
Among the rest a Nymphe sueet, vanton, gay,
Rising aboue the streames thus hard I say.
Phillis sueet honor of these suetest voods,
Vert thou but pitiful as thow art faire,
The vorthiest gem of al our Tanais floods;
But as in beautie so in hardness rare
To al these graces that so do grace the;
Ah, learne to loue, & no mor cruel be!
The flowres, the gemmes, the mettales, all behold,
The lambes, the doues, the gold spangl'd bremes in streames,
Al thes be vorkes of loue; the Tygresse bold
Made mild by loue her in-bred furie teames;
In heauen, earth, aire, since all vhere loue we see,
O, learne to loue, and no more cruel be!
In toilesome paines to vast our virgin yeares
And louelesse liue, is not to liue but breath;
Loue is the tree vhich most contentment beares,
Vhose fruits euen makes vs liue beyond our death;
Sweet loue did make thy Mother bring forth thee;
Ah, learne to loue, and no more cruel be!
Earths best perfections doth but last short time,
Riche Aprils treasure pleaseth much the eie,
But as it grows it passeth in its prime.
Thinke, & vel thinke, thy beautie thus must dye;
Vhen vith van face thow sal loke in thy glasse
Then sal thow sigh: vould I had lou'd, alas!
Looke but to Cloris louing lou'd againe,
How glad, how merrillie, sche spends each daye,
Like cherful vine vhom chaste elme doth sustaine,
Vhile her sweet yonglings doe about her play;
Vhen thow the vant sal find of such a grace
Then sal thow sigh: vould I had lou'd, alas!
But vho is Damon vhom thow suld disdaine:
The heauens on him some gifts hath euen let fal;
Gay is hee; vealth his cabane doth containe;
He loues the much, & that is more then al.
If crueltie thy loue in him deface
Then sal thow say: that I had lou'd, alas!
Flora him lou'd, if ere in clearest brooke
Narcissus like thy face thow did admire,
As faire as thow, yet Flora he forsooke
Vith al her gifts, & foole did the desire.
If he his thochts againe on Flora place
Then sal thow sigh: vould I had lou'd, alas!
This said the Nymphe, & ther vith al sche sanke
The clearest streame beneath, vho al dismaid
At her depart come playning to the banke,
And on his face a hundred frownes bevrayed.
I lay as on vhom some strange dreame makes vake,
Then homvard to my cabane did me take.
The floods sal backvard to ther fontaines rune,
The spring shall vant its floures, the pleasant floures
On barren rockes sal grow depriu'd of sune,
The sune sal leaue the heuens tuelue shining boures;
Heuens vithout starres sal be, starres cease to moue,
Ere euer I my Phillis leaue to loue.
Pant my hart doth vhen I thinke on that day,
That fatal day, vhen sche vith looshung haire
And vhitest petticot in new borne may,
To gather floures did to our meeds repaire,
Vhile I did rest beneath an ancient oke,
Caring for nocht but how to fead my flocke.
I saw her rune and as sche ran me thocht
The feilds about did smyle; beside the streames
Then sat schee down, vhere sune to kisse her sought;
But schee with vaile eclipsd his vanton beames.
I hard her breath few vords, vith loue & feare
To vhich vinds, mountaines, voods, did leane their eare.
Deceu'd perchance vith that most liulie hew,
A bee did hurt her lip that mad her veep,
And moisten cheeke & chin with sweetest due,
Vhich semed to fal, but Cupid did it keep;
For vhen rebellious harts ganstands his dart
He steeps it in these teares, & then thay smart.
Vithal sche rose, & in vatrie floods glasse
Angerlie mild the litil vound to looke,
Her selff sche drest, but Kala com̄ing vas
Vho made her stay, & so her mande sche tooke,
Of golden vonderes to make poore the Mead,
Vhile on her face my hungry eyes did feed.
At sight of her plump lips blush did the rose,
To see her vaines the violets grew paile,
The Marigold her precious leaues did close,
Amazd to find her haire so farre preuaile;
The lilies in her hand apeard not vhit.
Thus dazel'd vas my sight vith sueet delight.
Ourchargd at last sche to her village vent,
Leauing a thousand diuerse thoughts in mee
Like ciuill foes tumultuouslie which vent
All their best strenhtes till all enuasseld be.
Then tyrd vith vo I laid me in my bed,
Vher al the Nyt the Hyacynthe I red.
Vhat vonder her sueet eies culd me beguile
Vhich kendle desire then vhen thay vtter breath,
And euen vhen sche vald froune yet seme to smile,
Life promising vhen most thay threaten death!
For these faire tuines I rather stil be sad
Then by an others loue euen be made glad.
ii. Eclogue.
[Vhile dayes bright coachman makes our schadows schort]
Syrenus. Montanus.
Sy.
Vhile dayes bright coachman makes our schadows schort,
And panting rests him in his halff dayes course,
Vhile gladder shephards giue them selues to sport,
Let vs deare Montane rest vs by this source,
Vher ve may stanche our thrist vith coldest streames,
And vnder schade be fred of Phebus beames.
M.
Content am I; but since Syluanus left
This earthlie round I neuer like that spring,
The vearie place from me my ioyes hath reft,
Vhen I behold vher he vas vont to sing,
Syluane vell knowne, the honor of our voods,
Vho made the rocks to heare & stayed the floods.
Sy.
Bevaile not Syluane, since he is releu'd
Of flesclie bonds and these our mortal toiles,
Vith sad misfortunes now he is not grieuet.
This earth is framd for deaths triumphing spoiles;
The pleasant leaues, the suetest floures decayes,
And fairest things doth last the fewest dayes.
M.
Th'enuyous heauens, befor the course of time
Stole the from earth for to enrich theer spheares,
Vhile scars thow flourish't in thy youthful prime,
Filling our harts vith voe, our eies vith teares.
Syren, for these deare dayes that heer thow spent,
Stay not my grief but help me to lament.
Sy.
If floods of teares from the elysian plaine
Culd call a happie gost, if sights culd giue
A sparke of lyff, then Phillis schoures of raine
And lasting grones might make him yet to liue.
Yet in remembrance of this orphane place,
And her Il murne, Il sing vith the a space.
M.
A streame of teares, poore riuer christalline,
Len these mine eies; so may along thy banks
Sueet roses, lilies, & the columbine,
In pleasant flourish keep theer statlie ranks,
To vash Syluanus Tombe, that of my sorrow
The floods, the hils, the mids, a part may borrow.
Sy.
Len me the voice that Boreas hath the giuen,
Stracht reachet pin, vhen he his blows redoubles;
So may thy loftie head mont vp to heauen,
& neare heareefter feare his angry troubles,
That my sad accents may surpasse the skies,
& make heuens echoes answer to my cries.
M.
Forests since your best darling now is gone,
Vho your darke schadows suetnet vith his layes,
Teache al your nightingales at once to grone,
Cut your greene lockes, let fal your palmes & bayes,
Let not a mirtil tree be in yow found,
But eurie vher vith cypress sad abound.
Sy.
Faire Midows from vhose tender bosome springs
The vhite Narcissus, Venus deare delight,
The Hyacinth, & others vho var kings
And ladies faire vhen thay enioyd this light,
In mourning blake your princely coulours die,
Bow downe your heads, vhile sighing zephires flee.
M.
Vhat now is left vnto this plane but veeping?
This litil flood that sometime did inuite
Our vearied bodies to sueet rest and sleeping,
Vith his soft murmur semes to vaile our plight,
Telling the rocks, the banks, vheer ere he goes,
& the vyde ocean, our remedlesse voes.
Sy.
As Philomela sight vpon a tree,
Me thocht (for vhat thinks not a troublet mynd?)
Vith her old grieues, amids her harmonie,
Syluanus death, our losse, sche oft combind,
Vherto tuo vidow turtles lent theer eares,
Syne planed that Nature had not giuen them teares.
M.
The earth althocht cold vinter kil her flowres,
And al her beautie eurie vher deface,
Vhen Phebus turnes into his hoter boures,
Made ful of lyff smiles vith her former grace;
But so soone as, alas, mans giuen to death,
No sunne againe doth euer make him breath.
Sy.
The Moone that sadlie cheers the gloomie night,
Vhen sche in deaths blake armes a vhile remaines,
New borne doth soone recev her siluer light
And queenlike glances or the silent plaines;
The stars sunke in the vest again doth rise;
But man, forgot, in vglie horror lies.
M.
Ah souueraine poures, vhen ye did first deuise
To make poore man, vhy brak ye not the molde?
Vith fleschie maskes vhy did ye sprits disguyse?
Caussing a glasse so foole that liquor hold,
Vith cryes & paine him bringing to the light,
Happie t'haue sleepe in a eternal night.
Sy.
Happie t'haue sleepe in a eternal night
& neuer interrup that silent rest,
He felt no voes if he had no delight,
He did not know vhat's euil, of nocht vhat's best;
If he vsd not th'vnperfyt piece of reason,
He feard not voes to come at eurie season.
M.
If that I var againe for to be framd,
& that the heuens vald freelie to me giue
Vhat of the things below I suld be made,
A hart, a doue, I rather choose to liue,
Then be a man, my losses stil lamenting,
Tost first with passion, then vith sore repenting.
Sy.
If I var one of yow my sille lambes,
I suld not beene oprest vith th'vncuth caire
That mankind hath, nor felt the cruel flames
Of Phillis eies, nor knowne vhat vas despaire:
Sueet harmlesse flocke, vhen as ye stray alone,
Ar ye affraid of Styx or Phlegeton?
M.
The mids ar not embled vith so manie floures,
So many hews heuens doth neuer borrow,
So many drops hath not the april schoures,
As ve poore vretchet men hath vorlds of sorrow:
For these, o glorious gifts of noble skies,
Vith bitter teares ye fillet hath our eies.
Sy.
Vith bitter teares ye fillet hath our eies,
And fostreth vith beguiling hope our mind
Vith promist good that doth vs stil intice:
Lo, seeke ve ve vot not vhat, and so mad blind
Ve follow lies and change to taste of ioyes,
But hauing changd ve find but new annoyes.
M.
If lies bred ioyes and vertue bring voe,
Fals thochts be ful of comfort, trewth of sadnesse,
Velcome braue lies of that I neuer know!
Vnhappie trewth to take from me my gladnesse;
For thocht ve veep our voes ve cannot mend them,
& ve may end our selues befor ve end them.
