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ENGLANDS HELICON
Casta placent superis,
pura cum veste venite,
Et manibus puris
sumite fontis aquam.
pura cum veste venite,
Et manibus puris
sumite fontis aquam.
Olde Damons Pastorall.
From Fortunes frownes and change remou'd,
wend silly Flocks in blessed feeding:
None of Damon more belou'd,
feede gentle Lambs while I sit reading.
wend silly Flocks in blessed feeding:
None of Damon more belou'd,
feede gentle Lambs while I sit reading.
Carelesse vvorldlings outrage quelleth
all the pride and pompe of Cittie:
But true peace with Sheepheards dwelleth,
(Sheepheards who delight in pittie.)
Whether grace of heauen betideth,
on our humble minds such pleasure:
Perfect peace with Swaines abideth,
loue and faith is Sheepheards treasure.
On the lower Plaines the thunder
little thriues, and nought preuaileth:
Yet in Citties breedeth wonder,
and the highest hills assaileth.
all the pride and pompe of Cittie:
But true peace with Sheepheards dwelleth,
(Sheepheards who delight in pittie.)
Whether grace of heauen betideth,
on our humble minds such pleasure:
Perfect peace with Swaines abideth,
loue and faith is Sheepheards treasure.
On the lower Plaines the thunder
little thriues, and nought preuaileth:
Yet in Citties breedeth wonder,
and the highest hills assaileth.
Enuie of a forraigne Tyrant
threatneth Kings, not Sheepheards humble:
Age makes silly Swaines delirant,
thirst of rule garres great men stumble.
What to other seemeth sorrie,
abiect state and humble biding:
Is our ioy and Country glorie,
highest states haue worse betiding.
Golden cups doo harbour poyson,
and the greatest pompe, dissembling:
Court of seasoned words hath foyson,
treason haunts in most assembling.
threatneth Kings, not Sheepheards humble:
Age makes silly Swaines delirant,
thirst of rule garres great men stumble.
What to other seemeth sorrie,
abiect state and humble biding:
Is our ioy and Country glorie,
highest states haue worse betiding.
Golden cups doo harbour poyson,
and the greatest pompe, dissembling:
Court of seasoned words hath foyson,
treason haunts in most assembling.
Homely breasts doo harbour quiet,
little feare, and mickle solace:
States suspect their bed and diet,
feare and craft doo haunt the Pallace.
Little would I, little want I,
where the mind and store agreeth,
Smallest comfort is not scantie,
least he longs that little seeth.
Time hath beene that I haue longed,
foolish I, to like of follie:
To conuerse where honour thronged,
to my pleasures linked wholy.
little feare, and mickle solace:
States suspect their bed and diet,
feare and craft doo haunt the Pallace.
where the mind and store agreeth,
Smallest comfort is not scantie,
least he longs that little seeth.
Time hath beene that I haue longed,
foolish I, to like of follie:
To conuerse where honour thronged,
to my pleasures linked wholy.
Now I see, and seeing sorrow
that the day consum'd, returnes not:
Who dare trust vpon to morrow,
when nor time, nor life soiournes not?
that the day consum'd, returnes not:
Who dare trust vpon to morrow,
when nor time, nor life soiournes not?
FINIS.
Thom. Lodge.
The Barginet of Antimachus.
In pride of youth, in midst of May,When birds with many a merry Lay,
salute the Sunnes vp-rising:
I sate me downe fast by a Spring,
And while these merry Chaunters sing,
I fell vpon surmizing.
Amidst my doubt and minds debate,
Of change of time, of vvorlds estate,
I spyed a boy attired
In siluer plumes, yet naked quite,
Saue pretty feathers fit for flight,
A bowe he bare to worke mens wrack,
A little Quiuer at his back,
with many arrowes silled:
And in his soft and pretty hand,
He held a liuely burning brand,
where-with he Louers killed,
Fast by his side, in rich aray,
There sate a louely Lady gay,
his mother as I guessed:
That set the Lad vpon her knee,
And trimd his bowe, and taught him flee,
and mickle Loue professed.
Oft from her lap at sundry stoures,
He leapt, and gathered Sommer flowres,
both Violets and Roses:
But see the chaunce that followed fast,
As he the pompe of prime dooth wast,
before that he supposes:
A Bee that harbour'd hard thereby,
Did sting his hand, and made him crye
Oh Mother, I am wounded:
Faire Uenus that beheld her Sonne,
Cryed out alas, I am vndone,
and there-vpon she swounded.
My little Lad the Goddesse sayd,
Who hath my Cupid so dismayd?
he aunswered: Gentle Mother
The hony-worker in the Hiue,
My greefe and mischiefe dooth contriue,
alas it is none other.
Shee kist the Lad: Now marke the chaunce,
And straite she fell into a traunce,
and crying, thus concluded:
Ah wanton boy, like to the Bee,
Thou with a kisse hast wounded me,
and haplesse Loue included.
A little Bee dooth thee affright,
and cannot be recured:
The boy that kist his Mothers paine,
Gan smile, and kist her whole againe,
and made her hope assured.
She suckt the wound, and swag'd the sting,
And little Loue ycurde did sing,
then let no Louer sorrow:
To day though greefe attaint his hart,
Let him with courage bide the smart,
amends will come to morrow.
FINIS.
Thom. Lodge.
Montanus praise of his faire Phæbe.
Phæbe sate,Sweete she sate,
sweete sate Phæbe when I saw her,
White her brow
Coy her eye,
brow and eye, how much you please me?
Words I spent,
Sighs I sent,
sighs and words could neuer draw her,
Oh my Loue,
Thou art lost,
since no sight could euer ease thee.
Phæbe sate
By a Fount,
sitting by a Fount I spide her,
Sweete her touch,
Rare her voyce,
touch and voyce, what may distaine you?
I did sigh,
And by sighs whilst that I tride her,
Oh mine eyes
You did loose,
her first sight whose want did paine you
Phæbes flocks
White as wooll,
yet were Phæbes lookes more whiter,
Phæbes eyes
Doue-like mild,
Doue-like eyes both mild and cruell,
Montane sweares
In your Lamps,
he will die for to delight her,
Phæbe yeeld
Or I die,
shall true harts be fancies fuell?
FINIS.
Thom. Lodge.
Montanus Sonnet to his faire Phæbe.
A Turtle sate vpon a leauelesse tree,
Mourning her absent pheare,
With sad and sorrie cheare.
About her wondring stood,
The Cittizens of vvood.
And whilst her plumes she rents,
And for her Loue laments:
The stately trees complaine them,
The birds with sorrow paine them.
Each one that dooth her view,
Her paines and sorrowes rue.
But were the sorrowes knowne,
That me hath ouer-throwne:
Oh how would Phæbe sigh, if she did looke on mee?
Mourning her absent pheare,
With sad and sorrie cheare.
About her wondring stood,
The Cittizens of vvood.
And for her Loue laments:
The stately trees complaine them,
The birds with sorrow paine them.
Each one that dooth her view,
Her paines and sorrowes rue.
But were the sorrowes knowne,
That me hath ouer-throwne:
Oh how would Phæbe sigh, if she did looke on mee?
The loue-sicke Polipheme that could not see,
Who on the barren shoare,
His fortunes did deplore:
And melteth all in mone,
For Galatea gone,
And with his cries
Afflicts both earth and skies,
And to his woe betooke,
Dooth breake both pipe and hooke.
For whom complaines the morne,
For whom the Sea-Nimphs mourne.
Alas his paine is nought,
For were my woe but thought:
Oh how would Phæbe sigh, if she did looke on me?
Who on the barren shoare,
His fortunes did deplore:
And melteth all in mone,
For Galatea gone,
And with his cries
Afflicts both earth and skies,
And to his woe betooke,
Dooth breake both pipe and hooke.
For whom complaines the morne,
For whom the Sea-Nimphs mourne.
Alas his paine is nought,
For were my woe but thought:
Oh how would Phæbe sigh, if she did looke on me?
Beyond compare my paine,
yet glad am I:
If gentle Phæbe daine,
to see her Montan die.
yet glad am I:
If gentle Phæbe daine,
to see her Montan die.
FINIS.
Thom. Lodge.
Phæbes Sonnet, a replie to Montanus passion.
Downe a downe,
Thus Phillis sung,
By fancie once distressed:
Who so by foolish Loue are stung
are worthily oppressed.
And so sing I, with downe a downe, &c.
Thus Phillis sung,
By fancie once distressed:
Who so by foolish Loue are stung
are worthily oppressed.
And so sing I, with downe a downe, &c.
VVhen Loue was first begot,
And by the mothers will:
Did fall to humane lot,
His solace to fulfill.
Deuoide of all deceite,
A chast and holy fire:
Did quicken mans conceite,
And vvomens breasts inspire.
The Gods that saw the good,
That mortalls did approoue:
With kind and holy moode,
Began to talke of Loue.
And by the mothers will:
Did fall to humane lot,
His solace to fulfill.
Deuoide of all deceite,
A chast and holy fire:
Did quicken mans conceite,
And vvomens breasts inspire.
The Gods that saw the good,
That mortalls did approoue:
With kind and holy moode,
Began to talke of Loue.
Downe a downe,
Thus Phillis sung
By fancie once distressed, &c.
Thus Phillis sung
By fancie once distressed, &c.
But during this accord,
A wonder strange to heare:
Whilst Loue in deede and word,
Most faithfull did appeare;
False semblance came in place,
By Iealousie attended:
And with a double face,
Both loue and fancie blended.
Which made the Gods forsake,
And men from fancie flie:
And Maydens scorne a make,
Forsooth and so will I.
A wonder strange to heare:
Whilst Loue in deede and word,
Most faithfull did appeare;
False semblance came in place,
By Iealousie attended:
And with a double face,
Both loue and fancie blended.
Which made the Gods forsake,
And men from fancie flie:
And Maydens scorne a make,
Forsooth and so will I.
Downe a downe,
Thus Phillis sung,
By fancie once distressed:
Who so by foolish Loue are stung,
Are worthily oppressed.
And so sing I, with downe a downe, &c.
Thus Phillis sung,
By fancie once distressed:
Who so by foolish Loue are stung,
Are worthily oppressed.
And so sing I, with downe a downe, &c.
FINIS.
Thom. Lodge.
The solitarie Sheepheards Song.
O shadie Vales, ô faire enriched Meades,
O sacred vvoods, sweet fields, and rising mountaines.
O painted flowers, greene hearbs where Flora treads,
Refresht by wanton winds and watry fountaines.
O sacred vvoods, sweet fields, and rising mountaines.
O painted flowers, greene hearbs where Flora treads,
Refresht by wanton winds and watry fountaines.
O all you winged Queristers of vvood,
that pearcht aloft, your former paines report:
And straite againe recount with pleasant moode,
your present ioyes in sweete and seemely sort.
that pearcht aloft, your former paines report:
And straite againe recount with pleasant moode,
your present ioyes in sweete and seemely sort.
O all you creatures whosoeuer thriue
on mother earth, in Seas, by ayre, by fire:
More blest are you then I heere vnder Sunne,
loue dies in me, when as he dooth reuiue
In you, I perish vnder beauties ire,
where after stormes, winds, frosts, your life is wunne.
on mother earth, in Seas, by ayre, by fire:
More blest are you then I heere vnder Sunne,
loue dies in me, when as he dooth reuiue
In you, I perish vnder beauties ire,
where after stormes, winds, frosts, your life is wunne.
FINIS.
Thom. Lodge.
The Sheepheard Damons passion.
Ah trees, why fall your leaues so fast?
Ah Rocks, where are your roabes of mosse?
Ah Flocks, why stand you all agast?
Trees, Rocks, and Flocks, what, are ye pensiue for my loste?
Ah Rocks, where are your roabes of mosse?
Ah Flocks, why stand you all agast?
Trees, Rocks, and Flocks, what, are ye pensiue for my loste?
The birds me thinks tune naught but moane,
The winds breath naught but bitter plaint:
The beasts forsake their dennes to groane,
Birds, winds, and beasts, what, dooth my losse your powers attaint?
The winds breath naught but bitter plaint:
The beasts forsake their dennes to groane,
Birds, winds, and beasts, what, dooth my losse your powers attaint?
Floods weepe their springs aboue their bounds,
And Eccho wailes to see my woe:
The roabe of ruthe dooth cloath the grounds,
Floods, Eccho, grounds, why doo ye all these teares bestow?
And Eccho wailes to see my woe:
The roabe of ruthe dooth cloath the grounds,
Floods, Eccho, grounds, why doo ye all these teares bestow?
The trees, the Rocks and Flocks replie,
The birds, the winds, the beasts report:
Floods, Eccho, grounds for sorrow crie,
We greeue since Phillis nill kinde Damons loue consort.
The birds, the winds, the beasts report:
Floods, Eccho, grounds for sorrow crie,
We greeue since Phillis nill kinde Damons loue consort.
FINIS.
Thom. Lodge.
Coridons Song.
A blithe and bonny Country-Lasse,
heigh hoe bonny-Lasse,
Sate sighing on the tender grasse,
and weeping sayd: will none come woo me?
A smicker Boy a lither Swaine,
heigh hoe a snacker Swaine:
That in his loue was wanton fame,
with smiling lookes straite came vnto her.
heigh hoe bonny-Lasse,
Sate sighing on the tender grasse,
and weeping sayd: will none come woo me?
A smicker Boy a lither Swaine,
heigh hoe a snacker Swaine:
That in his loue was wanton fame,
with smiling lookes straite came vnto her.
When as the wanton Wench espied,
heigh hoe when she espied,
The meanes to make her selfe a Bride,
she simpred smooth like bonnie-bell:
The Swaine that sawe her squint-eyed kinde,
heigh hoe squint-eyed kinde,
His armes about her body twin'd
and sayd, Faire Lasse, how fare ye, well?
heigh hoe when she espied,
The meanes to make her selfe a Bride,
she simpred smooth like bonnie-bell:
The Swaine that sawe her squint-eyed kinde,
heigh hoe squint-eyed kinde,
His armes about her body twin'd
and sayd, Faire Lasse, how fare ye, well?
The Country-Kit sayd, well forsooth,
heigh hoe well forsooth,
But that I haue a longing tooth,
a longing tooth that makes me crie:
Alas (said he) what ganes thy greefe,
heigh hoe what ganes thy greefe?
A wound (quoth she) without releefe,
I feare a mayde that I shall die.
heigh hoe well forsooth,
But that I haue a longing tooth,
a longing tooth that makes me crie:
Alas (said he) what ganes thy greefe,
heigh hoe what ganes thy greefe?
A wound (quoth she) without releefe,
I feare a mayde that I shall die.
If that be all, the Sheepheard sayd,
heigh hoe the Sheepheard sayd,
Ile make thee wiue it gentle Mayde,
and so recure thy maladie:
Heereon they kist with many an oath,
heigh hoe many an oath,
And fore God Pan did plight their troath,
so to the Church apace they hie.
heigh hoe the Sheepheard sayd,
and so recure thy maladie:
Heereon they kist with many an oath,
heigh hoe many an oath,
And fore God Pan did plight their troath,
so to the Church apace they hie.
And God send euery pretty peate,
heigh hoe the pretty peate,
That feares to die of this conceite,
so kind a friend to helpe at last:
Then Maydes shall neuer long againe,
heigh hoe to long-againe,
When they finde ease for such a paine,
thus my Roundelay is past.
heigh hoe the pretty peate,
That feares to die of this conceite,
so kind a friend to helpe at last:
Then Maydes shall neuer long againe,
heigh hoe to long-againe,
When they finde ease for such a paine,
thus my Roundelay is past.
FINIS.
Thom. Lodge.
Rosalindes Madrigall.
Loue in my bosome like a Bee,
dooth suck his sweete:
Now with his wings he playes with me,
now with his feete.
Within mine eyes he makes his nest,
His bed amidst my tender brest,
My kisses are his daily feast,
And yet he robs me of my rest.
Ah wanton will ye?
dooth suck his sweete:
Now with his wings he playes with me,
now with his feete.
Within mine eyes he makes his nest,
His bed amidst my tender brest,
My kisses are his daily feast,
And yet he robs me of my rest.
Ah wanton will ye?
And if I sleepe, then pierceth he,
with prettie slight:
And makes his pillow of my knee,
the liue-long night.
Strike I my Lute, he tunes the string,
He musique playes if I but sing,
He lends me euery louely thing,
Yet cruell he my hart dooth sting.
Whist wanton, still ye.
with prettie slight:
And makes his pillow of my knee,
the liue-long night.
Strike I my Lute, he tunes the string,
He lends me euery louely thing,
Yet cruell he my hart dooth sting.
Whist wanton, still ye.
Life I with Roses euery day
will whip ye hence:
And binde ye when ye long to play,
for your offence.
Ile shut mine eyes to keepe ye in,
Ile make you fast it for your sinne,
Ile count your power not woorth a pin.
Alas, what heereby shall I winne
If he gaine-say me?
will whip ye hence:
And binde ye when ye long to play,
for your offence.
Ile shut mine eyes to keepe ye in,
Ile make you fast it for your sinne,
Ile count your power not woorth a pin.
Alas, what heereby shall I winne
If he gaine-say me?
What if I beate the wanton boy
with many a rod?
He will repay me with annoy,
because a God.
Then sit thou safely on my knee,
And let thy bower my bosome be:
Lurke in mine eyes, I like of thee.
O Cupid, so thou pitty me,
Spare not, but play thee.
with many a rod?
He will repay me with annoy,
because a God.
Then sit thou safely on my knee,
And let thy bower my bosome be:
Lurke in mine eyes, I like of thee.
O Cupid, so thou pitty me,
Spare not, but play thee.
FINIS.
Thom. Lodge.
The Sheepheards sorrow, being disdained in loue.
Mvses helpe me, sorrow swarmeth,
Eyes are fraught with Seas of languish:
Haplesse hope my solace harmeth,
Mindes repast is bitter anguish.
Eyes are fraught with Seas of languish:
Haplesse hope my solace harmeth,
Mindes repast is bitter anguish.
Eye of day regarded neuer,
Certaine trost in vvorld vntrustie:
Flattering hope beguileth euer,
Wearie old, and wanton lustie.
Certaine trost in vvorld vntrustie:
Flattering hope beguileth euer,
Wearie old, and wanton lustie.
Dawne of day beholds enthroned,
Fortunes darling proud and dreadlesse:
Darksome night dooth heare him moaned,
Who before was rich and needelesle.
Fortunes darling proud and dreadlesse:
Darksome night dooth heare him moaned,
Who before was rich and needelesle.
Rob the Spheare of lines vnited,
Make a suddaine voide in nature:
Force the day to be benighted,
Reaue the cause of time and creature.
Make a suddaine voide in nature:
Force the day to be benighted,
Reaue the cause of time and creature.
Ere the world will cease to varie,
This I weepe for, this I sorrow:
Muses, if you please to tarie,
Further helpe I meane to borrow.
This I weepe for, this I sorrow:
Muses, if you please to tarie,
Further helpe I meane to borrow.
Courted once by Fortunes fauour,
Compast now with Enuies curses:
All my thoughts of sorrowes sauour,
Hopes runne fleeting like the Sourses.
Compast now with Enuies curses:
Hopes runne fleeting like the Sourses.
Aye me, wanton scorne hath maimed
All the ioyes my hart enioyed:
Thoughts their thinking haue disclaimed,
Hate my hopes haue quite annoyed.
All the ioyes my hart enioyed:
Thoughts their thinking haue disclaimed,
Hate my hopes haue quite annoyed.
Scant regard my yveale hath scanted,
Looking coy, hath forc'd my lowring:
Nothing lik'd, where nothing wanted,
Weds mine eyes to ceaselesse showring.
Looking coy, hath forc'd my lowring:
Nothing lik'd, where nothing wanted,
Weds mine eyes to ceaselesse showring.
Former loue was once admired,
Present fauour is estraunged:
Loath'd the pleasure long desired,
Thus both men and thoughts are chaunged.
Present fauour is estraunged:
Loath'd the pleasure long desired,
Thus both men and thoughts are chaunged.
Louely Swaine with luckie speeding,
Once, but now no more so friended:
You my Flocks haue had in feeding,
From the morne, till day was ended.
Once, but now no more so friended:
You my Flocks haue had in feeding,
From the morne, till day was ended.
Drink and fodder, foode and folding,
Had my Lambs and Ewes together:
I with them was still beholding,
Both in warmth and Winter weather.
Had my Lambs and Ewes together:
I with them was still beholding,
Both in warmth and Winter weather.
Now they languish, since refused,
Ewes and Lambs are pain'd with pining:
I with Ewes and Lambs confused,
All vnto our deaths declining.
Ewes and Lambs are pain'd with pining:
I with Ewes and Lambs confused,
All vnto our deaths declining.
Silence, leaue thy Caue obscured,
Daigne a dolefull Swaine to tender:
Though disdaines I haue endured,
Yet I am no deepe offender.
Daigne a dolefull Swaine to tender:
Though disdaines I haue endured,
Yet I am no deepe offender.
Phillips Sonne can with his finger
Hide his scarre, it is so little:
Little sinne a day to linger,
Wise men wander in a tittle.
Hide his scarre, it is so little:
Little sinne a day to linger,
Wise men wander in a tittle.
Trifles yet my Swaine have turned,
Though my Sunne he neuer showeth:
Though I weep, I am not mourned,
Though I want, no pity groweth.
Though my Sunne he neuer showeth:
Though I weep, I am not mourned,
Though I want, no pity groweth.
Yet for pittie, loue my Muses,
Gentle silence be their couer:
They must leaue their unwanted vses,
Since I leaue to be a Louer.
Gentle silence be their couer:
They must leaue their unwanted vses,
Since I leaue to be a Louer.
They shall liue with thee enclosed,
I will loath my pen and paper:
Art shall neuer be supposed,
Sloth shall quench the watching Taper.
I will loath my pen and paper:
Art shall neuer be supposed,
Sloth shall quench the watching Taper.
Kisse them silence, kisse them kindly,
Though I leaue them, yet I loue them:
Though my wit haue led them blindly,
Yet a Swaine did once approue them.
Though I leaue them, yet I loue them:
Though my wit haue led them blindly,
Yet a Swaine did once approue them.
I will trauaile soiles remoued,
Night and morning neuer merrie:
Thou shalt harbour that I loued,
I will loue that makes me wearie.
Night and morning neuer merrie:
Thou shalt harbour that I loued,
I will loue that makes me wearie.
If perchaunce the Sheepheard strayeth,
In thy walks and shades vnhaunted:
Tell the teene my hart betrayeth,
How neglect my ioyes have daunted.
In thy walks and shades vnhaunted:
Tell the teene my hart betrayeth,
How neglect my ioyes have daunted.
FINIS.
Thom. Lodge.
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