Bosworth-field With a Taste of the Variety of Other Poems, Left by Sir John Beaumont ... Set Forth by his Sonne, Sir Iohn Beaumont |
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The Shepherdesse.
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The Shepherdesse.
A Shepherdesse, who long had kept her flocksOn stony Charnwoods dry and barren rocks,
In heate of Summer to the vales declin'd,
To seeke fresh pasture for her Lambes halfe pin'd.
She (while her charge was feeding) spent the houres
To gaze on sliding Brookes, and smiling flowres.
Thus hauing largely stray'd, she lifts her sight,
And viewes a Palace full of glorious light.
She finds the entrance open, and as bold
As Countrey Maids, that would the Court behold,
She makes an offer, yet againe she stayes,
And dares not dally with those Sunny rayes.
Here lay a Nymph, of beauty most diuine,
Whose happy presence caus'd the house to shine;
Who much conuerst with mortals, and could know
No honour truly high, that scornes the low:
For she had oft been present, though vnseene,
Among the Shepherds daughters on the Greene,
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His Oaten Pipe, and Feet before his Loue,
And crownes the eu'ning, when the daies are long,
With some plaine Dance, or with a Rurall song.
Nor were the women nice to hold this sport,
And please their Louers in a modest sort.
There that sweet Nymph had seene this Country Dame
For singing crown'd, whence grew a world of fame
Among the Sheepecotes, which in her reioyce,
And know no better pleasure then her voyce.
The glitt'ring Ladies gather'd in a ring,
Intreate the silly Shepherdesse to sing:
She blusht and sung, while they with words of praise,
Contend her songs aboue their worth to raise.
Thus being chear'd with many courteous signes,
She takes her leaue, for now the Sunne declines,
And hauing driuen home her flocks againe,
She meets her Loue, a simple Shepherd Swaine;
Yet in the Plaines he had a Poets name:
For he could Roundelayes and Carols frame,
Which, when his Mistresse sung along the Downes,
Was thought celestiall Musick by the Clownes.
Of him she begs, that he would raise his mind
To paint this Lady, whom she found so kind:
You oft (saith she) haue in our homely Bow'rs
Discours'd of Demi-gods and greater pow'rs:
For you with Hesiode sleeping learnt to know
The race diuine from heau'n to earth below.
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Most happy is of all that liue betweene
This Globe and Cynthia, and in high estate,
Of wealth and beauty hath an equall mate,
Whose loue hath drawne vncessant teares in floods,
From Nymphs, that haunt the waters and the woods.
Of Iris to the ground hath bent her bow
To steale a kisse, and then a way to goe:
Yet all in vaine, he no affection knowes
But to this Goddesse, whom at first he chose:
Him she enioyes in mutuall bonds of loue:
Two hearts are taught in one small point to moue.
Her Father high in honour and descent,
Commands the Syluans on the Northside Trent.
He at this time for pleasure and retreate,
Comes downe from Beluoir his ascending seate,
To which great Pan had lately honour done:
For there he lay, so did his hopefull Sonne.
But when this Lord by his accesse desires
To grace our Dales, he to a house retires,
Whose walles are water'd with our siluer Brookes,
And makes the Shepherds proud to view his lookes,
There in that blessed house you also saw
His Lady, whose admired vertues draw
All hearts to loue her, and all tongues inuite
To praise that ayre where she vouchsafes her light.
And for thy further ioy thine eyes were blest,
To see another Lady, in whose brest
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As Modesty with Beauty in her face.
She found me singing Floraes natiue dowres,
And made me sing before the heau'nly pow'rs:
For which great fauour, till my voice be done,
I sing of her, and her thrice-noble sonne.
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