Melpomineput on thy mourning Gaberdine,And set thy song vnto the dolefull Base,And with thy sable vayle shadow thy face,with weeping verse,attend his hearse,Whose blessed soule the heauens doe now enshrine.Come Nymphs and with your Rebecks ring his knell,Warble forth your wamenting harmony,And at his drery fatall obsequie,10with Cypres bowes,maske your fayre Browes,And beat your breasts to chyme his burying peale.Thy birth-day was to all our ioye, the euen,And on thy death this dolefull song we sing,Sweet Child ofPan, and theCastalianspring,vnto our endless mone,from vs why art thou gone,To fill vp that sweete Angels quier in heauen.O whylome thou thy lasses dearest loue,20When with greene Lawrell she hath crowned thee,Immortal mirror of all Poesie:the Muses treasure,the Graces pleasure,Reigning with Angels now in heauen aboue.Our mirth is now depriu'd of all her glory,Our Taburins in dolefull dumps are drownd.Our viols want their sweet and pleasing sound,our melodie is mar'dand we of ioyes debard,30O wicked world so mutable and transitory.O dismall day, bereauer of delight,O stormy winter, sourse of all our sorrow,O most vntimely and eclipsed morrow,to rob us quite,of all delight,Darkening that starre which euer shone so bright.OhElphin,Elphin, Though thou hence be gone,In spight of death yet shalt thou liue for aye,Thy Poesie is garlanded with Baye:40and still shalt blazethy lasting prayse:Whose losse poore shepherds euer shall bemone.Come Girles, and with Carnations decke his graue,With damaske Roses and the hyacynt:Come with sweete Williams, Marioram and Mynt,with precious Balmes,with hymnes and psalmes,This funerall deserues no lesse at all to haue.But see whereElphinsits in fayre Elizia,50Feeding his flocke on yonder heauenly playne,Come and behold, you louely shepheards swayne,piping his fillon yonder hill,Tasting sweeteNectar, andAmbrosia.
Melpomineput on thy mourning Gaberdine,And set thy song vnto the dolefull Base,And with thy sable vayle shadow thy face,with weeping verse,attend his hearse,Whose blessed soule the heauens doe now enshrine.
Come Nymphs and with your Rebecks ring his knell,Warble forth your wamenting harmony,And at his drery fatall obsequie,10with Cypres bowes,maske your fayre Browes,And beat your breasts to chyme his burying peale.
Thy birth-day was to all our ioye, the euen,And on thy death this dolefull song we sing,Sweet Child ofPan, and theCastalianspring,vnto our endless mone,from vs why art thou gone,To fill vp that sweete Angels quier in heauen.
O whylome thou thy lasses dearest loue,20When with greene Lawrell she hath crowned thee,Immortal mirror of all Poesie:the Muses treasure,the Graces pleasure,Reigning with Angels now in heauen aboue.
Our mirth is now depriu'd of all her glory,Our Taburins in dolefull dumps are drownd.Our viols want their sweet and pleasing sound,our melodie is mar'dand we of ioyes debard,30O wicked world so mutable and transitory.
O dismall day, bereauer of delight,O stormy winter, sourse of all our sorrow,O most vntimely and eclipsed morrow,to rob us quite,of all delight,Darkening that starre which euer shone so bright.
OhElphin,Elphin, Though thou hence be gone,In spight of death yet shalt thou liue for aye,Thy Poesie is garlanded with Baye:40and still shalt blazethy lasting prayse:Whose losse poore shepherds euer shall bemone.
Come Girles, and with Carnations decke his graue,With damaske Roses and the hyacynt:Come with sweete Williams, Marioram and Mynt,with precious Balmes,with hymnes and psalmes,This funerall deserues no lesse at all to haue.
But see whereElphinsits in fayre Elizia,50Feeding his flocke on yonder heauenly playne,Come and behold, you louely shepheards swayne,piping his fillon yonder hill,Tasting sweeteNectar, andAmbrosia.
Borrill.Oh spightfull wayward wretched loue,Woe toVenuswhich did nurse thee,Heauens and earth thy plagues doe proue,Gods and men haue cause to curse thee.Thoughts griefe, hearts woe,Hopes paine, bodies languish,Enuies rage, sleepes foe,Fancies fraud, soules anguish,Desires dread, mindes madnes,10Secrets bewrayer, natures error,Sights deceit, sullens sadnes,Speeches expence, Cupids terror,Malcontents melancholly,Liues slaughter, deaths nurse,Cares slaue, dotard's folly,Fortunes bayte, world's curse,Lookes theft, eyes blindnes,Selfes will, tongues treason,Paynes pleasure, wrongs kindnes,20Furies frensie, follies reason:With cursing thee as I began,Neither God, neither man,Neither Fayrie, neither Feend.Batte.Loue is the heauens fayre aspect,loue is the glorie of the earth,Loue only doth our liues direct,loue is our guyder from our birth,Loue taught my thoughts at first to flie,loue taught mine eyes the way to loue,30Loue raysed my conceit so hie,loue framd my hand his arte to proue.Loue taught my Muse her perfect skill,loue gaue me first to Poesie:Loue is the Soueraigne of my will,loue bound me first to loyalty.Loue was the first that fram'd my speech,loue was the first that gaue me grace:Loue is my life and fortunes leech,loue made the vertuous giue me place.40Loue is the end of my desire,loue is the loadstarre of my loue,Loue makes my selfe, my selfe admire,loue seated my delights aboue.Loue placed honor in my brest,loue made me learnings fauoret,Loue made me liked of the best,loue first my minde on virtue set.Loue is my life, life is my loue,loue is my whole felicity,50Loue is my sweete, sweete is my loue,I am in loue, and loue in mee.
Borrill.
Oh spightfull wayward wretched loue,Woe toVenuswhich did nurse thee,Heauens and earth thy plagues doe proue,Gods and men haue cause to curse thee.Thoughts griefe, hearts woe,Hopes paine, bodies languish,Enuies rage, sleepes foe,Fancies fraud, soules anguish,Desires dread, mindes madnes,10Secrets bewrayer, natures error,Sights deceit, sullens sadnes,Speeches expence, Cupids terror,Malcontents melancholly,Liues slaughter, deaths nurse,Cares slaue, dotard's folly,Fortunes bayte, world's curse,Lookes theft, eyes blindnes,Selfes will, tongues treason,Paynes pleasure, wrongs kindnes,20Furies frensie, follies reason:With cursing thee as I began,Neither God, neither man,Neither Fayrie, neither Feend.
Batte.
Loue is the heauens fayre aspect,loue is the glorie of the earth,Loue only doth our liues direct,loue is our guyder from our birth,
Loue taught my thoughts at first to flie,loue taught mine eyes the way to loue,30Loue raysed my conceit so hie,loue framd my hand his arte to proue.
Loue taught my Muse her perfect skill,loue gaue me first to Poesie:Loue is the Soueraigne of my will,loue bound me first to loyalty.
Loue was the first that fram'd my speech,loue was the first that gaue me grace:Loue is my life and fortunes leech,loue made the vertuous giue me place.
40Loue is the end of my desire,loue is the loadstarre of my loue,Loue makes my selfe, my selfe admire,loue seated my delights aboue.
Loue placed honor in my brest,loue made me learnings fauoret,Loue made me liked of the best,loue first my minde on virtue set.
Loue is my life, life is my loue,loue is my whole felicity,50Loue is my sweete, sweete is my loue,I am in loue, and loue in mee.
Farre in the countrey ofArdenThere wond a knight hightCassemen,as bolde asIsenbras:Fell was he and eger bent,In battell and in Tournament,as was the good sirTopas.He had as antique stories tell,A daughter cleapedDowsabell,a mayden fayre and free:10And for she was her fathers heire,Full well she was ycond the leyre,of mickle curtesie.The silke wel couth she twist and twine,And make the fine Marchpine,and with the needle werke,And she couth helpe the priest to sayHis Mattens on a holyday,and sing a Psalme in Kirke.She ware a frocke of frolicke greene,20Might well beseeme a mayden Queene,which seemly was to see.A hood to that so neat and fine,In colour like the colombine,ywrought full featously.Her feature all as fresh aboue,As is the grasse that grows by Doue,as lyth as lasse of Kent:Her skin as soft as Lemster wooll,As white as snow on peakish hull,30or Swanne that swims in Trent.This mayden in a morne betime,Went forth when May was in her prime,to get sweet Cetywall,The hony-suckle, the Harlocke,The Lilly and the Lady-smocke,to decke her summer hall.Thus as she wandred here and there,Ypicking of the bloomed Breere,she chanced to espie40A shepheard sitting on a bancke,LikeChanteclerehe crowed crancke,and pip'd with merrie glee:He leard his sheepe as he him list,When he would whistle in his fist,to feede about him round:Whilst he full many a caroll sung,Vntill the fields and medowes rung,and that the woods did sound:In fauour this same shepheards swayne,50Was like the bedlamTamburlayne,which helde prowd Kings in awe:But meeke he was as Lamb mought be,Ylike that gentleAbelhe,whom his lewd brother slaw.This shepheard ware a sheepe gray cloke,Which was of the finest loke,that could be cut with sheere,His mittens were of Bauzens skinne,His cockers were of Cordiwin60his hood of Meniueere.His aule and lingell in a thong,His tar-boxe on his broad belt hong,his breech of Coyntrie blew:Full crispe and curled were his lockes,His browes as white asAlbionrockes,so like a louer true.And pyping still he spent the day,So mery as the Popingay:which likedDowsabell,70That would she ought or would she nought,This lad would neuer from her thought:she in loue-longing fell,At length she tucked vp her frocke,White as the Lilly was her smocke,she drew the shepheard nie,But then the shepheard pyp'd a good,That all his sheepe forsooke their foode,to heare his melodie.Thy sheepe quoth she cannot be leane,80That haue a iolly shepheards swayne,the which can pipe so well.Yea but (sayth he) their shepheard may,Jf pyping thus he pine away,in loue ofDowsabell.Of loue fond boy take thou no keepe,Quoth she, looke well vnto thy sheepe,lest they should hap to stray.Quoth he, so had I done full well,Had I not seene fayreDowsabell,90come forth to gather Maye.With that she gan to vaile her head,Her cheekes were like the Roses red,but not a word she sayd.With that the shepheard gan to frowne,He threw his pretie pypes adowne,and on the ground him layd.Sayth she, I may not stay till night,And leaue my summer hall vndight,and all for long of thee.100My Coate sayth he, nor yet my foulde,Shall neither sheepe nor shepheard hould,except thou fauour me.Sayth she yet leuer I were dead,Then I should lose my maydenhead,and all for loue of men:Sayth he yet are you too vnkind,If in your heart you cannot finde,to loue vs now and then:And J to thee will be as kinde,110AsColinwas toRosalinde,of curtesie the flower;Then will I be as true quoth she,As euer mayden yet might be,vnto her Paramour:With that she bent her snowe-white knee,Downe by the shepheard kneeled shee,and him she sweetely kist.With that the shepheard whoop'd for ioy,Quoth he, ther's neuer shepheards boy,120that euer was so blist.
Farre in the countrey ofArdenThere wond a knight hightCassemen,as bolde asIsenbras:Fell was he and eger bent,In battell and in Tournament,as was the good sirTopas.He had as antique stories tell,A daughter cleapedDowsabell,a mayden fayre and free:10And for she was her fathers heire,Full well she was ycond the leyre,of mickle curtesie.The silke wel couth she twist and twine,And make the fine Marchpine,and with the needle werke,And she couth helpe the priest to sayHis Mattens on a holyday,and sing a Psalme in Kirke.She ware a frocke of frolicke greene,20Might well beseeme a mayden Queene,which seemly was to see.A hood to that so neat and fine,In colour like the colombine,ywrought full featously.Her feature all as fresh aboue,As is the grasse that grows by Doue,as lyth as lasse of Kent:Her skin as soft as Lemster wooll,As white as snow on peakish hull,30or Swanne that swims in Trent.This mayden in a morne betime,Went forth when May was in her prime,to get sweet Cetywall,The hony-suckle, the Harlocke,The Lilly and the Lady-smocke,to decke her summer hall.Thus as she wandred here and there,Ypicking of the bloomed Breere,she chanced to espie40A shepheard sitting on a bancke,LikeChanteclerehe crowed crancke,and pip'd with merrie glee:He leard his sheepe as he him list,When he would whistle in his fist,to feede about him round:Whilst he full many a caroll sung,Vntill the fields and medowes rung,and that the woods did sound:In fauour this same shepheards swayne,50Was like the bedlamTamburlayne,which helde prowd Kings in awe:But meeke he was as Lamb mought be,Ylike that gentleAbelhe,whom his lewd brother slaw.This shepheard ware a sheepe gray cloke,Which was of the finest loke,that could be cut with sheere,His mittens were of Bauzens skinne,His cockers were of Cordiwin60his hood of Meniueere.His aule and lingell in a thong,His tar-boxe on his broad belt hong,his breech of Coyntrie blew:Full crispe and curled were his lockes,His browes as white asAlbionrockes,so like a louer true.And pyping still he spent the day,So mery as the Popingay:which likedDowsabell,70That would she ought or would she nought,This lad would neuer from her thought:she in loue-longing fell,At length she tucked vp her frocke,White as the Lilly was her smocke,she drew the shepheard nie,But then the shepheard pyp'd a good,That all his sheepe forsooke their foode,to heare his melodie.Thy sheepe quoth she cannot be leane,80That haue a iolly shepheards swayne,the which can pipe so well.Yea but (sayth he) their shepheard may,Jf pyping thus he pine away,in loue ofDowsabell.Of loue fond boy take thou no keepe,Quoth she, looke well vnto thy sheepe,lest they should hap to stray.Quoth he, so had I done full well,Had I not seene fayreDowsabell,90come forth to gather Maye.With that she gan to vaile her head,Her cheekes were like the Roses red,but not a word she sayd.With that the shepheard gan to frowne,He threw his pretie pypes adowne,and on the ground him layd.Sayth she, I may not stay till night,And leaue my summer hall vndight,and all for long of thee.100My Coate sayth he, nor yet my foulde,Shall neither sheepe nor shepheard hould,except thou fauour me.Sayth she yet leuer I were dead,Then I should lose my maydenhead,and all for loue of men:Sayth he yet are you too vnkind,If in your heart you cannot finde,to loue vs now and then:And J to thee will be as kinde,110AsColinwas toRosalinde,of curtesie the flower;Then will I be as true quoth she,As euer mayden yet might be,vnto her Paramour:With that she bent her snowe-white knee,Downe by the shepheard kneeled shee,and him she sweetely kist.With that the shepheard whoop'd for ioy,Quoth he, ther's neuer shepheards boy,120that euer was so blist.
Then this great Vniuerse no lesse,Can serue her prayses to expresse:Betwixt her eies the poles of Loue,The host of heauenly beautyes moue,Depainted in their proper stories,As well the fixd as wandring glories,Which from their proper orbes not goe,Whether they gyre swift or slowe:Where from their lips, when she doth speake,10The musick of those sphears do breake,Which their harmonious motion breedeth:From whose cheerfull breath proceedeth:That balmy sweetnes that giues birthTo euery ofspring of the earth.Her shape and cariage of which frameIn forme how well shee beares the same,Is that proportion heauens best treasure,Whereby it doth all poyze and measure,So that alone her happy sight20Conteynes perfection and delight.
Then this great Vniuerse no lesse,Can serue her prayses to expresse:Betwixt her eies the poles of Loue,The host of heauenly beautyes moue,Depainted in their proper stories,As well the fixd as wandring glories,Which from their proper orbes not goe,Whether they gyre swift or slowe:Where from their lips, when she doth speake,10The musick of those sphears do breake,Which their harmonious motion breedeth:From whose cheerfull breath proceedeth:That balmy sweetnes that giues birthTo euery ofspring of the earth.Her shape and cariage of which frameIn forme how well shee beares the same,Is that proportion heauens best treasure,Whereby it doth all poyze and measure,So that alone her happy sight20Conteynes perfection and delight.
Vppon a bank with roses set about,Where pretty turtles ioyning bil to bill,And gentle springs steale softly murmuring outWashing the foote of pleasures sacred hill:There little loue sore wounded lyes,His bowe and arowes broken,Bedewd with teares from Venus eyesOh greeuous to be spoken.Beare him my hart slaine with her scornefull eye10Where sticks the arrowe that poore hart did kill,With whose sharp pile request him ere he die,About the same to write his latest will,And bid him send it backe to mee,At instant of his dying,That cruell cruell shee may seeMy faith and her denying.His chappell be a mournefull Cypresse Shade,And for a chauntry Philomels sweet lay,Where prayers shall continually be made20By pilgrim louers passing by that way.With Nymphes and shepheards yearly moaneHis timeles death beweeping,In telling that my hart aloneHath his last will in keeping.
Vppon a bank with roses set about,Where pretty turtles ioyning bil to bill,And gentle springs steale softly murmuring outWashing the foote of pleasures sacred hill:There little loue sore wounded lyes,His bowe and arowes broken,Bedewd with teares from Venus eyesOh greeuous to be spoken.
Beare him my hart slaine with her scornefull eye10Where sticks the arrowe that poore hart did kill,With whose sharp pile request him ere he die,About the same to write his latest will,And bid him send it backe to mee,At instant of his dying,That cruell cruell shee may seeMy faith and her denying.
His chappell be a mournefull Cypresse Shade,And for a chauntry Philomels sweet lay,Where prayers shall continually be made20By pilgrim louers passing by that way.With Nymphes and shepheards yearly moaneHis timeles death beweeping,In telling that my hart aloneHath his last will in keeping.
Now fye vpon thee wayward loue,Woe toVenuswhich did nurse thee,Heauen and earth thy plagues doe proue,Gods and men haue cause to curse thee.What art thou but th' extreamst madnesse,Natures first and only errorThat consum'st our daies in sadnesse,By the minds Continuall terror:Walking in Cymerian blindnesse,10In thy courses voy'd of reason.Sharp reproofe thy only kindnesse,In thy trust the highest treason?Both the Nymph and ruder swaine,Vexing with continuall anguish,Which dost make the ould complaineAnd the young to pyne and languishe,Who thee keepes his care doth nurse,That seducest all to folly,Blessing, bitterly doest curse,20Tending to destruction wholly:Thus of thee as I began,So againe I make an end,Neither god neither man,Neither faiery, neither feend.Batte.What is Loue but the desireOf the thing that fancy pleaseth?A holy and resistlesse fier,Weake and strong alike that ceaseth,Which not heauen hath power to let,30Nor wise nature cannot smother,WherebyPhoebusdoth begetteOn the vniuersall mother.That the euerlasting Chaine,Which together al things tied,And vnmooued them retayneAnd by which they shall abide:That concent we cleerely find,All things doth together drawe,And so strong in euery kinde,40Subiects them to natures law.Whose hie virtue number teachesIn which euery thing dooth mooue,From the lowest depth that reachesTo the height of heauen aboue:Harmony that wisely found,When the cunning hand doth strikeWhereas euery amorous sound,Sweetly marryes with his like.The tender cattell scarcely take50From their damm's the feelds to proue,But ech seeketh out a make,Nothing liues that doth not loue:Not soe much as but the plantAs nature euery thing doth payre,By it if the male it wantDoth dislike and will not beare:Nothing then is like to loueIn the which all creatures be.From it nere let me remooue60Nor let it remooue from me.
Now fye vpon thee wayward loue,Woe toVenuswhich did nurse thee,Heauen and earth thy plagues doe proue,Gods and men haue cause to curse thee.What art thou but th' extreamst madnesse,Natures first and only errorThat consum'st our daies in sadnesse,By the minds Continuall terror:Walking in Cymerian blindnesse,10In thy courses voy'd of reason.Sharp reproofe thy only kindnesse,In thy trust the highest treason?Both the Nymph and ruder swaine,Vexing with continuall anguish,Which dost make the ould complaineAnd the young to pyne and languishe,Who thee keepes his care doth nurse,That seducest all to folly,Blessing, bitterly doest curse,20Tending to destruction wholly:Thus of thee as I began,So againe I make an end,Neither god neither man,Neither faiery, neither feend.
Batte.
What is Loue but the desireOf the thing that fancy pleaseth?A holy and resistlesse fier,Weake and strong alike that ceaseth,Which not heauen hath power to let,30Nor wise nature cannot smother,WherebyPhoebusdoth begetteOn the vniuersall mother.That the euerlasting Chaine,Which together al things tied,And vnmooued them retayneAnd by which they shall abide:That concent we cleerely find,All things doth together drawe,And so strong in euery kinde,40Subiects them to natures law.Whose hie virtue number teachesIn which euery thing dooth mooue,From the lowest depth that reachesTo the height of heauen aboue:Harmony that wisely found,When the cunning hand doth strikeWhereas euery amorous sound,Sweetly marryes with his like.The tender cattell scarcely take50From their damm's the feelds to proue,But ech seeketh out a make,Nothing liues that doth not loue:Not soe much as but the plantAs nature euery thing doth payre,By it if the male it wantDoth dislike and will not beare:Nothing then is like to loueIn the which all creatures be.From it nere let me remooue60Nor let it remooue from me.
Batte.Gorbo, as thou cam'st this wayeBy yonder little hill,Or as thou through the fields didst strayeSawst thou myDaffadill?Shee's in a frock of Lincolne greeneThe colour maides delightAnd neuer hath her beauty seenBut through a vale of white.Then Roses richer to behold10That trim vp louers bowers,The Pansy and the MarigouldThoPhœbusParamours.Gorbo.Thou well describ'st the DaffadillIt is not full an howerSince by the spring neare yonder hillI saw that louely flower.Batte.Yet my faire flower thou didst not meet,Nor news of her didst bring,And yet my Daffadill more sweete,20Then that by yonder spring.Gorbo.I saw a shepheard that doth keepeIn yonder field of Lillies,Was making (as he fed his sheepe)A wreathe of Daffadillies.Batte.YetGorbothou delud'st me stilMy flower thou didst not see,For know my pretieDaffadillIs worne of none but me.To shew it selfe but neare her seate,30No Lilly is so bould,Except to shade her from the heate,Or keepe her from the colde:Gorbo.Through yonder vale as I did passe,Descending from the hill,I met a smerking bony lasse,They call herDaffadill:Whose presence as along she went,The prety flowers did greet,As though their heads they downward bent,40With homage to her feete.And all the shepheards that were nie,From toppe of euery hill,Vnto the vallies lowe did crie,There goes sweetDaffadill.Gorbo.I gentle shepheard, now with ioyThou all my flockes dost fill,That's she alone kind shepheards boy,Let vs toDaffadill.
Batte.
Gorbo, as thou cam'st this wayeBy yonder little hill,Or as thou through the fields didst strayeSawst thou myDaffadill?
Shee's in a frock of Lincolne greeneThe colour maides delightAnd neuer hath her beauty seenBut through a vale of white.
Then Roses richer to behold10That trim vp louers bowers,The Pansy and the MarigouldThoPhœbusParamours.
Gorbo.Thou well describ'st the DaffadillIt is not full an howerSince by the spring neare yonder hillI saw that louely flower.
Batte.Yet my faire flower thou didst not meet,Nor news of her didst bring,And yet my Daffadill more sweete,20Then that by yonder spring.
Gorbo.I saw a shepheard that doth keepeIn yonder field of Lillies,Was making (as he fed his sheepe)A wreathe of Daffadillies.
Batte.YetGorbothou delud'st me stilMy flower thou didst not see,For know my pretieDaffadillIs worne of none but me.
To shew it selfe but neare her seate,30No Lilly is so bould,Except to shade her from the heate,Or keepe her from the colde:
Gorbo.Through yonder vale as I did passe,Descending from the hill,I met a smerking bony lasse,They call herDaffadill:
Whose presence as along she went,The prety flowers did greet,As though their heads they downward bent,40With homage to her feete.
And all the shepheards that were nie,From toppe of euery hill,Vnto the vallies lowe did crie,There goes sweetDaffadill.
Gorbo.I gentle shepheard, now with ioyThou all my flockes dost fill,That's she alone kind shepheards boy,Let vs toDaffadill.
Motto.Tell me thou skilfull shepheards swayne,Who's yonder in the vally set?Perkin.O it is she whose sweets do stayne,The Lilly, Rose, or violet.Motto.Why doth the Sunne against his kind,Stay his bright Chariot in the skies,Perkin.He pawseth almost stroken blind,With gazing on her heauenly eies:Motto.Why doe thy flocks forbeare their foode,10Which somtyme was their chiefe delight,Perkin.Because they neede no other good,That liue in presence of her sight:Motto.How com those flowers to florish still,Not withering with sharpe winters breath?Perkin.She hath robd nature of her skill,And comforts all things with her breath:Motto.Why slide these brookes so slow away,As swift as the wild Roe that were,Perkin.O muse not shepheard that they stay,20When they her heauenly voice do heare.Motto.From whence com all these goodly swaynsAnd lonely nimphs attir'd in greene,Perkin.From gathering garlands on the playnes,To crowne thySiluiashepheards queen.Motto.The sun that lights this world below,Flocks, Brooks and flowers, can witnesse bear,Perkin.These shepheards, and these nymphs do know,ThySyluiais as chast, as fayre.
Motto.Tell me thou skilfull shepheards swayne,Who's yonder in the vally set?Perkin.O it is she whose sweets do stayne,The Lilly, Rose, or violet.
Motto.Why doth the Sunne against his kind,Stay his bright Chariot in the skies,Perkin.He pawseth almost stroken blind,With gazing on her heauenly eies:
Motto.Why doe thy flocks forbeare their foode,10Which somtyme was their chiefe delight,Perkin.Because they neede no other good,That liue in presence of her sight:
Motto.How com those flowers to florish still,Not withering with sharpe winters breath?Perkin.She hath robd nature of her skill,And comforts all things with her breath:
Motto.Why slide these brookes so slow away,As swift as the wild Roe that were,Perkin.O muse not shepheard that they stay,20When they her heauenly voice do heare.
Motto.From whence com all these goodly swaynsAnd lonely nimphs attir'd in greene,Perkin.From gathering garlands on the playnes,To crowne thySiluiashepheards queen.
Motto.The sun that lights this world below,Flocks, Brooks and flowers, can witnesse bear,Perkin.These shepheards, and these nymphs do know,ThySyluiais as chast, as fayre.
Rowland.Of her pure eyes (that now is seen)Chorus.Help vs to sing that be her faithful swainsRow:O she alone the shepheards Queen,Cho:Her Flocke that leades,The goddesse of these medes,These mountaines and these plaines.Row:Those eyes of hers that are more cleere,Cho:Then silly shepheards can in song expresse,Row:Then be his beams that rule the yeare,10Cho:Fy on that prayse,In striuing things to rayse:That doth but make them lesse.Row:That doe the flowery spring prolong,Cho:So much the earth doth in her presence ioy,Row:And keeps the plenteous summer young:Cho:And doth asswageThe wrathfull winters rageThat would our flocks destroy.Row:Iouesaw her brest that naked lay,20Cho:A sight alone was fit forIoueto see:Row:And swore it was the milkie way,Cho:Of all most pure,The path (we vs assure)VntoIouescourt to be.Row:He saw her tresses hanging downe.Cho:That too and fro were mooued with the ayre,Row:And sayd thatAriadnescrowne,Cho:With those compar'd:The gods should not regard30NorBereniceshayre.Row:When she hath watch'd my flockes by night,Cho:O happie were the flockes that she did keepe:Row:They neuer neededCynthia'slight,Cho:That soone gaue place,Amazed with her grace,That did attend thy sheepe.Row:Aboue where heauens hie glories are,Cho:When as she shall be placed in the skies,Row:She shall be calld the shepheards starre,40Cho:And euermore,We shepheards will adore,Her setting and her rise.
Rowland.Of her pure eyes (that now is seen)Chorus.Help vs to sing that be her faithful swainsRow:O she alone the shepheards Queen,Cho:Her Flocke that leades,The goddesse of these medes,These mountaines and these plaines.
Row:Those eyes of hers that are more cleere,Cho:Then silly shepheards can in song expresse,Row:Then be his beams that rule the yeare,10Cho:Fy on that prayse,In striuing things to rayse:That doth but make them lesse.
Row:That doe the flowery spring prolong,Cho:So much the earth doth in her presence ioy,Row:And keeps the plenteous summer young:Cho:And doth asswageThe wrathfull winters rageThat would our flocks destroy.
Row:Iouesaw her brest that naked lay,20Cho:A sight alone was fit forIoueto see:Row:And swore it was the milkie way,Cho:Of all most pure,The path (we vs assure)VntoIouescourt to be.
Row:He saw her tresses hanging downe.Cho:That too and fro were mooued with the ayre,Row:And sayd thatAriadnescrowne,Cho:With those compar'd:The gods should not regard30NorBereniceshayre.
Row:When she hath watch'd my flockes by night,Cho:O happie were the flockes that she did keepe:Row:They neuer neededCynthia'slight,Cho:That soone gaue place,Amazed with her grace,That did attend thy sheepe.
Row:Aboue where heauens hie glories are,Cho:When as she shall be placed in the skies,Row:She shall be calld the shepheards starre,40Cho:And euermore,We shepheards will adore,Her setting and her rise.
Decorative
In this Appendix, I have collected certain fugitive pieces of Drayton's; chiefly commendatory verses prefixed to various friends' books. The first song is fromEngland's Helicon, and is, I think, too pretty to be lost. Three of the commendatory poems are in sonnet-form, and their inclusion brings us nearer the whole number published by Drayton; of which there are doubtless a few still lacking. But I have tried to make the collection of sonnets as complete as possible.
Faire Loue rest thee heere,Neuer yet was morne so cleere,Sweete be not vnkinde,Let me thy fauour finde,Or else for loue I die.Harke this pretty bubling spring,How it makes the Meadowes ring,Loue now stand my friend,Heere let all sorrow end,10And I will honour thee.See where littleCupidlyes,Looking babies in her eyes.Cupidhelpe me now,Lend to me thy bowe,To wound her that wounded me.Heere is none to see or tell,All our flocks are feeding by,This Banke with Roses spred,Oh it is a dainty bed,20Fit for my Loue and me.Harke the birds in yonder Groaue,How they chaunt vnto my Loue,Loue be kind to me,As I haue beene to thee,For thou hast wonne my hart.Calme windes blow you faire,Rock her thou gentle ayre,O the morne is noone,The euening comes too soone,30To part my Loue and me.The Roses and thy lips doo meete,Oh that life were halfe so sweete,Who would respect his breath,That might die such a death,Oh that life thus might die.All the bushes that be neere,With sweet Nightingales beset,Hush sweete and be still,Let them sing their fill,40There's none our ioyes to let.Sunne why doo'st thou goe so fast?Oh why doo'st thou make such hast?It is too early yet,So soone from ioyes to flitWhy art thou so vnkind?See my little Lambkins runne,Looke on them till I haue done,Hast not on the night,To rob me of her light,50That liue but by her eyes.Alas, sweete Loue, we must depart,Harke, my dogge begins to barke,Some bodie's comming neere,They shall not find vs heere,For feare of being chid.Take my Garland and my Gloue,Weare it for my sake my Loue,To morrow on the greene,Thou shalt be our Sheepheards Queene,60Crowned with Roses gay.Mich. Drayton.
Faire Loue rest thee heere,Neuer yet was morne so cleere,Sweete be not vnkinde,Let me thy fauour finde,Or else for loue I die.
Harke this pretty bubling spring,How it makes the Meadowes ring,Loue now stand my friend,Heere let all sorrow end,10And I will honour thee.
See where littleCupidlyes,Looking babies in her eyes.Cupidhelpe me now,Lend to me thy bowe,To wound her that wounded me.
Heere is none to see or tell,All our flocks are feeding by,This Banke with Roses spred,Oh it is a dainty bed,20Fit for my Loue and me.
Harke the birds in yonder Groaue,How they chaunt vnto my Loue,Loue be kind to me,As I haue beene to thee,For thou hast wonne my hart.
Calme windes blow you faire,Rock her thou gentle ayre,O the morne is noone,The euening comes too soone,30To part my Loue and me.
The Roses and thy lips doo meete,Oh that life were halfe so sweete,Who would respect his breath,That might die such a death,Oh that life thus might die.
All the bushes that be neere,With sweet Nightingales beset,Hush sweete and be still,Let them sing their fill,40There's none our ioyes to let.
Sunne why doo'st thou goe so fast?Oh why doo'st thou make such hast?It is too early yet,So soone from ioyes to flitWhy art thou so vnkind?
See my little Lambkins runne,Looke on them till I haue done,Hast not on the night,To rob me of her light,50That liue but by her eyes.
Alas, sweete Loue, we must depart,Harke, my dogge begins to barke,Some bodie's comming neere,They shall not find vs heere,For feare of being chid.
Take my Garland and my Gloue,Weare it for my sake my Loue,To morrow on the greene,Thou shalt be our Sheepheards Queene,60Crowned with Roses gay.
Mich. Drayton.
Such was oldOrpheuscunning,That sencelesse things drew neere him,And heards of beasts to heare him,The stock, the stone, the Oxe, the Asse came running,Morley! but this enchauntingTo thee, to be the Musick-God is wanting.And yet thou needst not feare him;Draw thou the Shepherds still and Bonny lasses,And enuie him not stocks, stones, Oxen, Asses.
Such was oldOrpheuscunning,That sencelesse things drew neere him,And heards of beasts to heare him,The stock, the stone, the Oxe, the Asse came running,Morley! but this enchauntingTo thee, to be the Musick-God is wanting.And yet thou needst not feare him;Draw thou the Shepherds still and Bonny lasses,And enuie him not stocks, stones, Oxen, Asses.
Like as a man, on some aduenture boundHis honest friendes, their kindnes to expresse,T'incourage him of whome the maine is own'd;Some venture more, and some aduenture lesse,That if the voyage (happily) be good:They his good fortune freely may pertake;If otherwise it perrish in the flood,Yet like good friends theirs perish'd for his sake.On thy returne I put this little forth,My chaunce with thine indifferently to proue,Which though (I know) not fitting with thy worth,Accept it yet since it proceedes from loue;And if thy fortune prosper, I may seeI haue some share, though most returne to thee.Mich. Drayton.
Like as a man, on some aduenture boundHis honest friendes, their kindnes to expresse,T'incourage him of whome the maine is own'd;Some venture more, and some aduenture lesse,That if the voyage (happily) be good:They his good fortune freely may pertake;If otherwise it perrish in the flood,Yet like good friends theirs perish'd for his sake.On thy returne I put this little forth,My chaunce with thine indifferently to proue,Which though (I know) not fitting with thy worth,Accept it yet since it proceedes from loue;And if thy fortune prosper, I may seeI haue some share, though most returne to thee.
Mich. Drayton.
Such men as hold intelligence with Letters,And in that nice and Narrow way of Verse,As oft they lend, so oft they must be Debters,If with theMusesthey will haue commerce:Seldome atStawles, me, this way men rehearse,To mineInferiours, not unto myBetters:He stales hisLinesthat so doeth them disperse;I am so free, I loue notGolden-fetters.And manyLinesforeWriters, be but SettersTo them which cheate withPapers;which doth pierse,Our Credits: when we shew our selues Abetters:To those that wrong our knowledge: we rehearseOften (my goodIohn; and I loue) thyLetters;Which lend me Credit, as I lend myVerse.Michael Drayton.
Such men as hold intelligence with Letters,And in that nice and Narrow way of Verse,As oft they lend, so oft they must be Debters,If with theMusesthey will haue commerce:Seldome atStawles, me, this way men rehearse,To mineInferiours, not unto myBetters:He stales hisLinesthat so doeth them disperse;I am so free, I loue notGolden-fetters.And manyLinesforeWriters, be but SettersTo them which cheate withPapers;which doth pierse,Our Credits: when we shew our selues Abetters:To those that wrong our knowledge: we rehearseOften (my goodIohn; and I loue) thyLetters;Which lend me Credit, as I lend myVerse.
Michael Drayton.
In new attire (and put most neatly on)ThouMurraymak'st thy passionate Queene apeare,As when she sat on the Numidian throne,Deck'd with those Gems that most refulgent were.So thy stronge muse her maker like repaires,That from the ruins of her wasted vrne,Into a body of delicious ayres:Againe her spirit doth transmigrated turne,That scortching soile which thy great subiect bore,Bred those that coldly but exprest her merit,But breathing now vpon our colder shore,Here shee hath found a noble fiery spirit,Both there, and here, so fortunate for Fame,That what she was, she's euery where the same.M. Drayton.
In new attire (and put most neatly on)ThouMurraymak'st thy passionate Queene apeare,As when she sat on the Numidian throne,Deck'd with those Gems that most refulgent were.So thy stronge muse her maker like repaires,That from the ruins of her wasted vrne,Into a body of delicious ayres:Againe her spirit doth transmigrated turne,That scortching soile which thy great subiect bore,Bred those that coldly but exprest her merit,But breathing now vpon our colder shore,Here shee hath found a noble fiery spirit,Both there, and here, so fortunate for Fame,That what she was, she's euery where the same.
M. Drayton.
DeareTom, thy booke was like to come to light,Ere I could gaine but one halfe howre to write;They go before whose wits are at their noones,And I come after bringing Salt and Spoones.Many there be that write before thy Booke,For whom (except here) who could euer looke?Thrice happy are all wee that had the GraceTo haue our names set in this liuing place.Most worthy man, with thee it is euen thus,As men takeDottrels, so hast thou ta'n vs.Which as a man his arme or leg doth set,So this fond Bird will likewise counterfeit:Thou art the Fowler, and doest shew vs shapes10And we are all thyZanies, thy trueApes.I saw this age (from what it was at first)Swolne, and so bigge, that it was like to burst,Growne so prodigious, so quite out of fashion,That who will thriue, must hazard his damnation:Sweating in panges, sent such a horrid mist,As to dim heauen: I looked for AntichristOr some new set of Diuels to sway hell,Worser then those, that in theChaosfell:Wondring what fruit it to the world would bring,20At length it brought forth this: O most strange thing;And with sore throwes, for that the greatest headEuer is hard'st to be deliuered.By thee wiseCoryatewe are taught to know,Great, with great men which is the way to grow.For in a new straine thou com'st finely in,Making thy selfe like those thou mean'st to winne:Greatnesse to me seem'd euer full of feare,Which thou found'st false at thy arriuing there,Of theBermudas, the example such,30Where not a ship vntill this time durst touch;Kep't as suppos'd by hels infernall dogs,Our Fleet found their most honest wyld courteous hogs.Liue vertuousCoryate, and for euer beLik'd of such wise men, as are most like thee.Explicit Michael Drayton.
DeareTom, thy booke was like to come to light,Ere I could gaine but one halfe howre to write;They go before whose wits are at their noones,And I come after bringing Salt and Spoones.
Many there be that write before thy Booke,For whom (except here) who could euer looke?Thrice happy are all wee that had the GraceTo haue our names set in this liuing place.Most worthy man, with thee it is euen thus,As men takeDottrels, so hast thou ta'n vs.Which as a man his arme or leg doth set,So this fond Bird will likewise counterfeit:Thou art the Fowler, and doest shew vs shapes10And we are all thyZanies, thy trueApes.I saw this age (from what it was at first)Swolne, and so bigge, that it was like to burst,Growne so prodigious, so quite out of fashion,That who will thriue, must hazard his damnation:Sweating in panges, sent such a horrid mist,As to dim heauen: I looked for AntichristOr some new set of Diuels to sway hell,Worser then those, that in theChaosfell:Wondring what fruit it to the world would bring,20At length it brought forth this: O most strange thing;And with sore throwes, for that the greatest headEuer is hard'st to be deliuered.By thee wiseCoryatewe are taught to know,Great, with great men which is the way to grow.For in a new straine thou com'st finely in,Making thy selfe like those thou mean'st to winne:Greatnesse to me seem'd euer full of feare,Which thou found'st false at thy arriuing there,Of theBermudas, the example such,30Where not a ship vntill this time durst touch;Kep't as suppos'd by hels infernall dogs,Our Fleet found their most honest wyld courteous hogs.Liue vertuousCoryate, and for euer beLik'd of such wise men, as are most like thee.
Explicit Michael Drayton.
Driue forth thy Flocke, young Pastor, to that Plaine,Where our old Shepheards wont their flocks to feed;To those cleare walkes, where many a skilfull SwaineTo'ards the calme eu'ning, tun'd his pleasant Reede,Those, to theMusesonce so sacred, Downes,As no rude foote might there presume to stand:(Now made the way of the vnworthiest Clownes,Dig'd and plow'd vp with each vnhallowed hand)If possible thou canst, redeeme those places,10Where, by the brim of many a siluer Spring,The learned Maydens, and delightfull GracesOften haue sate to heare our Shepheards sing:Where on thosePinesthe neighb'ring Groues among,(Now vtterly neglected in these dayes)Our Garlands, Pipes, and Cornamutes were hongThe monuments of our deserued praise.So may thy Sheepe like, so thy Lambes increase,And from the Wolfe feede euer safe and free!So maist thou thriue, among the learned prease,20As thou young Shepheard art belou'd of mee!
Driue forth thy Flocke, young Pastor, to that Plaine,Where our old Shepheards wont their flocks to feed;To those cleare walkes, where many a skilfull SwaineTo'ards the calme eu'ning, tun'd his pleasant Reede,Those, to theMusesonce so sacred, Downes,As no rude foote might there presume to stand:(Now made the way of the vnworthiest Clownes,Dig'd and plow'd vp with each vnhallowed hand)If possible thou canst, redeeme those places,10Where, by the brim of many a siluer Spring,The learned Maydens, and delightfull GracesOften haue sate to heare our Shepheards sing:Where on thosePinesthe neighb'ring Groues among,(Now vtterly neglected in these dayes)Our Garlands, Pipes, and Cornamutes were hongThe monuments of our deserued praise.So may thy Sheepe like, so thy Lambes increase,And from the Wolfe feede euer safe and free!So maist thou thriue, among the learned prease,20As thou young Shepheard art belou'd of mee!