THE ELEVENTH IDILLION.

Argument.

Theocrituswrote this Idillion toNiciasa learned Physician: wherein he sheweth—by the example ofPolyphemusa giant in Sicily, of the race of theCyclops, who loved the Water NymphGalatea—that there is no medicine so sovereign against Love as is Poetry. Of whose Love Song, as this Idillion, is termedCyclops; so he was calledCyclops, because he had but one eye, that stood like a circle in the midst of his forehead.

ONicias, there is no other remedy for Love,With ointing, or with sprinkling on, that ever I could prove,Beside the Muses nine! This pleasant medicine of the mindGrows among men; and seems but light, yet very hard to find:As well I wote you know; who are in physic such a Leech,And of the Muses so beloved. The cause of this my speechACyclopsis, who lived here with us right wealthily;That ancientPolyphem, when first he lovedGalate(When, with a bristled beard, his chin and cheeks first clothed were):He loved her not with roses, apples, or with curlèd hair;But with the Furies' rage. All other things he little plied.Full often to their fold, from pastures green, without a guide,His sheep returnèd home: when all the while he singing layIn honour of his Love, and on the shore consumed awayFrom morning until night; sick of the wound, fast by the heart,Which mightyVenusgave, and in his liver stuck the dart.For which, this remedy he found, that sitting oftentimesUpon a rock and looking on the sea, he sang these rhymes:"O Galateafair, why dost thou shun thy lover true?More tender than a lamb, more white than cheese when it is new,More wanton than a calf, more sharp than grapes unripe, I find.You use to come when pleasant sleep, my senses all do bind:But you are gone again when pleasant sleep doth leave mine eye;And as a sheep you run, that on the plain a wolf doth spy."I then began to love thee,Galate, when first of allYou, with my mother, came to gather leaves of crowtoe [hyacinth] smallUpon our hill; when I, as Usher, squired you all the way.Nor when I saw thee first, nor afterwards, nor at this day,Since then could I refrain: but you, by Jove! nought set thereby!"But well I know, fair Nymph, the very cause why thus you fly.Because upon my front, one only brow, with bristles strongFrom one ear to the other ear is stretchèd all along:'Neath which, one eye; and on my lips, a hugy nose, there stands.Yet I, this such a one, a thousand sheep feed on these lands;And pleasant milk I drink, which from the strouting bags is presst.Nor want I cheese in summer, nor in autumn of the best,Nor yet in winter time. My cheese racks ever laden are;And better can I pipe than anyCyclopsmay compare.O apple sweet! of thee, and of myself I use to sing,And that at midnight oft. For thee! eleven fawns up I bring,All great with young: and four bears' whelps, I nourish up for thee!But come thou hither first, and thou shall have them all of me.And let the bluish coloured sea beat on the shore so nigh,The night with me in cave, thou shalt consume more pleasantly!There are the shady bays, and there tall cypress trees do sprout:And there is ivy black, and fertile vines are all about.Cool water there I have, distilled of the whitest snow,A drink divine, which out of woody Etna mount doth flow.In these respects, who in the sea and waves would rather be?"But if I seem as yet too rough and savage unto thee,Great store of oaken wood I have, and never-quenchèd fire;And I can well endure my soul to burn with thy desire,With this my only eye, than which I nothing think more trim:Now woe is me, my mother bore me not with fins to swim!That I might dive to thee; that I thy dainty hand might kiss,If lips thou wouldst not let. Then would I lilies bring iwis,And tender poppy-toe that bears a top like rattles red,And these in summer time: but others are in winter bred,So that I cannot bring them all at once. Now certainlyI'll learn to swim of some or other stranger passing by,That I may know what pleasure 'tis in waters deep to dwell."Come forth, fairGalate! and once got out, forget thee well}(As I do, sitting on this rock) home to return again!{But feed my sheep with me, and for to milk them take the pain!{And cheese to press, and in the milk the rennet sharp to strain!{My mother only wrongeth me; and her I blame, for sheSpake never yet to thee one good, or lovely, word of me:And that, although she daily sees how I away do pine.But I will say, 'My head and feet do ache,' that she may whine,And sorrow at the heart: because my heart with grief is swoll'n."OCyclops,Cyclops! whither is thy wit and reason flown?If thou would'st baskets make; and cut down brouzing from the tree,And bring it to thy lambs, a great deal wiser thou should'st be!Go, coy some present Nymph! Why dost thou follow flying wind?Perhaps anotherGalate, and fairer, thou shalt find!}For many Maidens in the evening tide with me will play,{And all do sweetly laugh, when I stand heark'ning what they say:{And I somebody seem, and in the earth do bear a sway."{ThusPolyphemussinging, fed his raging love of old;Wherein he sweeter did, than had he sent her sums of gold.

Nicias, there is no other remedy for Love,

With ointing, or with sprinkling on, that ever I could prove,

Beside the Muses nine! This pleasant medicine of the mind

Grows among men; and seems but light, yet very hard to find:

As well I wote you know; who are in physic such a Leech,

And of the Muses so beloved. The cause of this my speech

ACyclopsis, who lived here with us right wealthily;

That ancientPolyphem, when first he lovedGalate

(When, with a bristled beard, his chin and cheeks first clothed were):

He loved her not with roses, apples, or with curlèd hair;

But with the Furies' rage. All other things he little plied.

Full often to their fold, from pastures green, without a guide,

His sheep returnèd home: when all the while he singing lay

In honour of his Love, and on the shore consumed away

From morning until night; sick of the wound, fast by the heart,

Which mightyVenusgave, and in his liver stuck the dart.

For which, this remedy he found, that sitting oftentimes

Upon a rock and looking on the sea, he sang these rhymes:

"O Galateafair, why dost thou shun thy lover true?More tender than a lamb, more white than cheese when it is new,More wanton than a calf, more sharp than grapes unripe, I find.You use to come when pleasant sleep, my senses all do bind:But you are gone again when pleasant sleep doth leave mine eye;And as a sheep you run, that on the plain a wolf doth spy.

"O Galateafair, why dost thou shun thy lover true?

More tender than a lamb, more white than cheese when it is new,

More wanton than a calf, more sharp than grapes unripe, I find.

You use to come when pleasant sleep, my senses all do bind:

But you are gone again when pleasant sleep doth leave mine eye;

And as a sheep you run, that on the plain a wolf doth spy.

"I then began to love thee,Galate, when first of allYou, with my mother, came to gather leaves of crowtoe [hyacinth] smallUpon our hill; when I, as Usher, squired you all the way.Nor when I saw thee first, nor afterwards, nor at this day,Since then could I refrain: but you, by Jove! nought set thereby!

"I then began to love thee,Galate, when first of all

You, with my mother, came to gather leaves of crowtoe [hyacinth] small

Upon our hill; when I, as Usher, squired you all the way.

Nor when I saw thee first, nor afterwards, nor at this day,

Since then could I refrain: but you, by Jove! nought set thereby!

"But well I know, fair Nymph, the very cause why thus you fly.Because upon my front, one only brow, with bristles strongFrom one ear to the other ear is stretchèd all along:'Neath which, one eye; and on my lips, a hugy nose, there stands.Yet I, this such a one, a thousand sheep feed on these lands;And pleasant milk I drink, which from the strouting bags is presst.Nor want I cheese in summer, nor in autumn of the best,Nor yet in winter time. My cheese racks ever laden are;And better can I pipe than anyCyclopsmay compare.O apple sweet! of thee, and of myself I use to sing,And that at midnight oft. For thee! eleven fawns up I bring,All great with young: and four bears' whelps, I nourish up for thee!But come thou hither first, and thou shall have them all of me.And let the bluish coloured sea beat on the shore so nigh,The night with me in cave, thou shalt consume more pleasantly!There are the shady bays, and there tall cypress trees do sprout:And there is ivy black, and fertile vines are all about.Cool water there I have, distilled of the whitest snow,A drink divine, which out of woody Etna mount doth flow.In these respects, who in the sea and waves would rather be?

"But well I know, fair Nymph, the very cause why thus you fly.

Because upon my front, one only brow, with bristles strong

From one ear to the other ear is stretchèd all along:

'Neath which, one eye; and on my lips, a hugy nose, there stands.

Yet I, this such a one, a thousand sheep feed on these lands;

And pleasant milk I drink, which from the strouting bags is presst.

Nor want I cheese in summer, nor in autumn of the best,

Nor yet in winter time. My cheese racks ever laden are;

And better can I pipe than anyCyclopsmay compare.

O apple sweet! of thee, and of myself I use to sing,

And that at midnight oft. For thee! eleven fawns up I bring,

All great with young: and four bears' whelps, I nourish up for thee!

But come thou hither first, and thou shall have them all of me.

And let the bluish coloured sea beat on the shore so nigh,

The night with me in cave, thou shalt consume more pleasantly!

There are the shady bays, and there tall cypress trees do sprout:

And there is ivy black, and fertile vines are all about.

Cool water there I have, distilled of the whitest snow,

A drink divine, which out of woody Etna mount doth flow.

In these respects, who in the sea and waves would rather be?

"But if I seem as yet too rough and savage unto thee,Great store of oaken wood I have, and never-quenchèd fire;And I can well endure my soul to burn with thy desire,With this my only eye, than which I nothing think more trim:Now woe is me, my mother bore me not with fins to swim!That I might dive to thee; that I thy dainty hand might kiss,If lips thou wouldst not let. Then would I lilies bring iwis,And tender poppy-toe that bears a top like rattles red,And these in summer time: but others are in winter bred,So that I cannot bring them all at once. Now certainlyI'll learn to swim of some or other stranger passing by,That I may know what pleasure 'tis in waters deep to dwell.

"But if I seem as yet too rough and savage unto thee,

Great store of oaken wood I have, and never-quenchèd fire;

And I can well endure my soul to burn with thy desire,

With this my only eye, than which I nothing think more trim:

Now woe is me, my mother bore me not with fins to swim!

That I might dive to thee; that I thy dainty hand might kiss,

If lips thou wouldst not let. Then would I lilies bring iwis,

And tender poppy-toe that bears a top like rattles red,

And these in summer time: but others are in winter bred,

So that I cannot bring them all at once. Now certainly

I'll learn to swim of some or other stranger passing by,

That I may know what pleasure 'tis in waters deep to dwell.

"Come forth, fairGalate! and once got out, forget thee well}(As I do, sitting on this rock) home to return again!{But feed my sheep with me, and for to milk them take the pain!{And cheese to press, and in the milk the rennet sharp to strain!{My mother only wrongeth me; and her I blame, for sheSpake never yet to thee one good, or lovely, word of me:And that, although she daily sees how I away do pine.But I will say, 'My head and feet do ache,' that she may whine,And sorrow at the heart: because my heart with grief is swoll'n.

"Come forth, fairGalate! and once got out, forget thee well

}

(As I do, sitting on this rock) home to return again!{

But feed my sheep with me, and for to milk them take the pain!{

And cheese to press, and in the milk the rennet sharp to strain!{

My mother only wrongeth me; and her I blame, for she

Spake never yet to thee one good, or lovely, word of me:

And that, although she daily sees how I away do pine.

But I will say, 'My head and feet do ache,' that she may whine,

And sorrow at the heart: because my heart with grief is swoll'n.

"OCyclops,Cyclops! whither is thy wit and reason flown?If thou would'st baskets make; and cut down brouzing from the tree,And bring it to thy lambs, a great deal wiser thou should'st be!Go, coy some present Nymph! Why dost thou follow flying wind?Perhaps anotherGalate, and fairer, thou shalt find!}For many Maidens in the evening tide with me will play,{And all do sweetly laugh, when I stand heark'ning what they say:{And I somebody seem, and in the earth do bear a sway."{

"OCyclops,Cyclops! whither is thy wit and reason flown?

If thou would'st baskets make; and cut down brouzing from the tree,

And bring it to thy lambs, a great deal wiser thou should'st be!

Go, coy some present Nymph! Why dost thou follow flying wind?

Perhaps anotherGalate, and fairer, thou shalt find!

}

For many Maidens in the evening tide with me will play,{

And all do sweetly laugh, when I stand heark'ning what they say:{

And I somebody seem, and in the earth do bear a sway."{

ThusPolyphemussinging, fed his raging love of old;Wherein he sweeter did, than had he sent her sums of gold.

ThusPolyphemussinging, fed his raging love of old;

Wherein he sweeter did, than had he sent her sums of gold.

Polyphem's Emblem.Ubi Dictamum inventiam?

Polyphems Emblem

Argument.

The style of this Poem is more lofty than any of the rest, andTheocrituswrote it toHiero, King of Syracuse in Sicily. Wherein he reproveth the nigardise of Princes and Great Men towards the Learned, and namely [especially] Poets: in whose power it is to make men famous to all posterity. Towards the end, he praisethHiero; and prayeth that Sicily may be delivered by his prowess from the invasions of the Carthaginians. This Idillion is namedHieroin respect of the person to whom it was written; orCharites, that is, "Graces," in respect of the matter whereof it treateth.

POetshave still this care, and still the Muses have this care;To magnify the gods with Songs, and men that worthy are.The Muses they are goddesses, and gods with praise they crown;But we are mortal men, and mortal men let us renown!But who, of all the men under the cope of heaven that dwell,By opening of his doors, our Graces entertains so wellThat unrewarded quite he doth not send them back again?They in a chafe, all barefoot, home to me return with pain:And me they greatly blame, and that they went for nought they grudge;And all too weary, in the bottom of an empty hutch,Laying their heads upon their knees full cold, they still remain:Where they do poorly dwell, because they home returned in vain.Of all that living are, who loves a man that speaketh well?I know not one. For now a days for deeds that do excel}Men care not to be praised: but all are overcome with gain.{For every man looks round, with hand in bosom, whence amain{Coin he may get: whose rust rubbed off, he will not give again.{But straightway thus he says, "The leg is further than the knee,Let me have gold enough; the gods to Poets pay their fee!"Who would another hear, "Enough for all, oneHomeris;Of poets he is Prince: yet gets he nought of me iwis!"Madmen, what gain is this, to hoard up bags of gold within?This is not money's use, nor hath to wise men ever been!But part is due unto ourselves, part to the Poet's pen;And many kinsfolk must be pleasured, and many men:And often to the gods thou must do solemn sacrifice.Nor must thou keep a sparing house: but when, in friendly wise,Thou hast receivèd strangers at thy board; when they will thence,Let them depart! But chiefly Poets must thou reverence!That after thou art hidden in thy grave, thou mayest hear well!Nor basely mayest thou mourn when thou in Acheron dost dwell!Like to some ditcher vile, whose hands with work are hard and dry;Who from his parents poor, bewails his life in beggary.In KingAntiochushis Court, and KingAlevas'tooTo distribute the monthly bread a many had to do.The Scopedans had many droves of calves, which in their stalls'Mong oxen lowed; and shepherds kept, in the Cranonian dales,}Infinite flocks to bear the hospital [hospitable]Creondan's charge.{No pleasure should these men enjoy of their expenses large,{When once their souls they had embarked in the Infernal Barge;{But leaving all this wealth behind, in wretched miseryAmong the dead, without renown, for ever they should lie:Had notSimonidesthe Chian Poet, with his penAnd with his lute of many strings so famous made these menTo all posterity. The very horses were renowned;Which, from their races swift returned, with olive garlands crowned.Whoever should have known the Lycian Princes and their race,Or them of Troy, ofCignus[Cycnus] with his woman's coloured face:Had not the Poets sung the famous Wars of them of old?Nor yetUlysses(who, for ten years space on seas was rolled,By sundry sorts of men; and who at last went down to HellAs yet alive; and from theCyclops'den escapèd well)Had got such lasting fame: and drowned should lie in silence deepSwineherdEumæus, andPhilætuswho had to keepA herd of neat;Laerteseke himself had been unknown—If far and wide their names, greatHomer's verses had not blown.Immortal fame to mortal men, the Muses nine do give:But dead men's wealth is spent and quite consumed of them that live.But all one pain[s] it is, to number waves upon the banks,Whereof great store, the wind from sea doth blow to land in ranks;Or for to wash a brick with water clear till it be white:As for to move a man whom avarice doth once delight.Therefore "Adieu!" to such a one for me! and let him haveHuge silver heaps at will, and more and more still let him crave!But I, Goodwill of Men, and Honour, will prefer beforeA many mules of price, or many horses kept in store.Therefore I ask, To whom shall I be welcome with my trainOf Muses nine? whose ways are hard, ifJoveguides not the rein.The heavens yet have not left to roll both months and years on reels;And many horses yet shall turn about the Chariot's wheels:The man shall rise that shall have need of me to set him out;Doing such deeds of arms asAjax, orAchillesstout,Did in the field of Simois, whereIlus'bones do restAnd now the Carthaginians, inhabiting the West,Who in the utmost end of Liby' dwell, in arms are prest:And now the Syracuseans their spears do carry in the rest;Whose left arms laden are with targets made of willow tree.'Mongst whom KingHiero, the ancient Worthies' match, I seeIn armour shine; whose plume doth overshade his helmet bright.OJupiter, and thouMinervafierce in fight,And thouProserpina(who, with thy mother, has renownBy Lysimelia streams, in Ephyra that wealthy town),Out of our island drive our enemies, our bitter fate,Along the Sardine sea! that death of friends they may relateUnto their children and their wives! and that the town opprestBy enemies, of th' old inhabitants may be possesst!That they may till the fields! and sheep upon the downs may bleatBy thousands infinite, and fat! and that the herds of neatAs to their stalls they go, may press the ling'ring traveller!Let grounds be broken up for seed, what time the grasshopperWatching the shepherds by their flocks, in boughs close singing lies!And let the spiders spread their slender webs in armories;So that of War, the very name may not be heard again!But let the Poets strive, KingHiero's glory for to strainBeyond the Scythean sea; and far beyond those places whereSemiramisdid build those stately walls, and rule did bear.'Mongst whom, I will be one: for many other men beside,Jove's daughters love; whose study still shall be, both far and wide,Sicilian Arethusa, with the people, to advance;And warlikeHiero. Ye Graces! (who keep resiance [residence]In the Thessalian Mount Orchomenus; to Thebes of oldSo hateful, though of you beloved) to stay I will be bold,Where I am bid to come: and I with them will still remain,That shall invite me to their house, with all my Muses' train.Nor you, will I forsake! For what to men can lovely beWithout your company? The Graces always be with me!

Oetshave still this care, and still the Muses have this care;

To magnify the gods with Songs, and men that worthy are.

The Muses they are goddesses, and gods with praise they crown;

But we are mortal men, and mortal men let us renown!

But who, of all the men under the cope of heaven that dwell,

By opening of his doors, our Graces entertains so well

That unrewarded quite he doth not send them back again?

They in a chafe, all barefoot, home to me return with pain:

And me they greatly blame, and that they went for nought they grudge;

And all too weary, in the bottom of an empty hutch,

Laying their heads upon their knees full cold, they still remain:

Where they do poorly dwell, because they home returned in vain.

Of all that living are, who loves a man that speaketh well?I know not one. For now a days for deeds that do excel}Men care not to be praised: but all are overcome with gain.{For every man looks round, with hand in bosom, whence amain{Coin he may get: whose rust rubbed off, he will not give again.{But straightway thus he says, "The leg is further than the knee,Let me have gold enough; the gods to Poets pay their fee!"Who would another hear, "Enough for all, oneHomeris;Of poets he is Prince: yet gets he nought of me iwis!"

Of all that living are, who loves a man that speaketh well?

I know not one. For now a days for deeds that do excel

}

Men care not to be praised: but all are overcome with gain.{

For every man looks round, with hand in bosom, whence amain{

Coin he may get: whose rust rubbed off, he will not give again.{

But straightway thus he says, "The leg is further than the knee,

Let me have gold enough; the gods to Poets pay their fee!"

Who would another hear, "Enough for all, oneHomeris;

Of poets he is Prince: yet gets he nought of me iwis!"

Madmen, what gain is this, to hoard up bags of gold within?This is not money's use, nor hath to wise men ever been!But part is due unto ourselves, part to the Poet's pen;And many kinsfolk must be pleasured, and many men:And often to the gods thou must do solemn sacrifice.Nor must thou keep a sparing house: but when, in friendly wise,Thou hast receivèd strangers at thy board; when they will thence,Let them depart! But chiefly Poets must thou reverence!That after thou art hidden in thy grave, thou mayest hear well!Nor basely mayest thou mourn when thou in Acheron dost dwell!Like to some ditcher vile, whose hands with work are hard and dry;Who from his parents poor, bewails his life in beggary.

Madmen, what gain is this, to hoard up bags of gold within?

This is not money's use, nor hath to wise men ever been!

But part is due unto ourselves, part to the Poet's pen;

And many kinsfolk must be pleasured, and many men:

And often to the gods thou must do solemn sacrifice.

Nor must thou keep a sparing house: but when, in friendly wise,

Thou hast receivèd strangers at thy board; when they will thence,

Let them depart! But chiefly Poets must thou reverence!

That after thou art hidden in thy grave, thou mayest hear well!

Nor basely mayest thou mourn when thou in Acheron dost dwell!

Like to some ditcher vile, whose hands with work are hard and dry;

Who from his parents poor, bewails his life in beggary.

In KingAntiochushis Court, and KingAlevas'tooTo distribute the monthly bread a many had to do.The Scopedans had many droves of calves, which in their stalls'Mong oxen lowed; and shepherds kept, in the Cranonian dales,}Infinite flocks to bear the hospital [hospitable]Creondan's charge.{No pleasure should these men enjoy of their expenses large,{When once their souls they had embarked in the Infernal Barge;{But leaving all this wealth behind, in wretched miseryAmong the dead, without renown, for ever they should lie:Had notSimonidesthe Chian Poet, with his penAnd with his lute of many strings so famous made these menTo all posterity. The very horses were renowned;Which, from their races swift returned, with olive garlands crowned.Whoever should have known the Lycian Princes and their race,Or them of Troy, ofCignus[Cycnus] with his woman's coloured face:Had not the Poets sung the famous Wars of them of old?Nor yetUlysses(who, for ten years space on seas was rolled,By sundry sorts of men; and who at last went down to HellAs yet alive; and from theCyclops'den escapèd well)Had got such lasting fame: and drowned should lie in silence deepSwineherdEumæus, andPhilætuswho had to keepA herd of neat;Laerteseke himself had been unknown—If far and wide their names, greatHomer's verses had not blown.

In KingAntiochushis Court, and KingAlevas'too

To distribute the monthly bread a many had to do.

The Scopedans had many droves of calves, which in their stalls

'Mong oxen lowed; and shepherds kept, in the Cranonian dales,

}

Infinite flocks to bear the hospital [hospitable]Creondan's charge.{

No pleasure should these men enjoy of their expenses large,{

When once their souls they had embarked in the Infernal Barge;{

But leaving all this wealth behind, in wretched misery

Among the dead, without renown, for ever they should lie:

Had notSimonidesthe Chian Poet, with his pen

And with his lute of many strings so famous made these men

To all posterity. The very horses were renowned;

Which, from their races swift returned, with olive garlands crowned.

Whoever should have known the Lycian Princes and their race,

Or them of Troy, ofCignus[Cycnus] with his woman's coloured face:

Had not the Poets sung the famous Wars of them of old?

Nor yetUlysses(who, for ten years space on seas was rolled,

By sundry sorts of men; and who at last went down to Hell

As yet alive; and from theCyclops'den escapèd well)

Had got such lasting fame: and drowned should lie in silence deep

SwineherdEumæus, andPhilætuswho had to keep

A herd of neat;Laerteseke himself had been unknown—

If far and wide their names, greatHomer's verses had not blown.

Immortal fame to mortal men, the Muses nine do give:But dead men's wealth is spent and quite consumed of them that live.But all one pain[s] it is, to number waves upon the banks,Whereof great store, the wind from sea doth blow to land in ranks;Or for to wash a brick with water clear till it be white:As for to move a man whom avarice doth once delight.Therefore "Adieu!" to such a one for me! and let him haveHuge silver heaps at will, and more and more still let him crave!But I, Goodwill of Men, and Honour, will prefer beforeA many mules of price, or many horses kept in store.Therefore I ask, To whom shall I be welcome with my trainOf Muses nine? whose ways are hard, ifJoveguides not the rein.

Immortal fame to mortal men, the Muses nine do give:

But dead men's wealth is spent and quite consumed of them that live.

But all one pain[s] it is, to number waves upon the banks,

Whereof great store, the wind from sea doth blow to land in ranks;

Or for to wash a brick with water clear till it be white:

As for to move a man whom avarice doth once delight.

Therefore "Adieu!" to such a one for me! and let him have

Huge silver heaps at will, and more and more still let him crave!

But I, Goodwill of Men, and Honour, will prefer before

A many mules of price, or many horses kept in store.

Therefore I ask, To whom shall I be welcome with my train

Of Muses nine? whose ways are hard, ifJoveguides not the rein.

The heavens yet have not left to roll both months and years on reels;And many horses yet shall turn about the Chariot's wheels:The man shall rise that shall have need of me to set him out;Doing such deeds of arms asAjax, orAchillesstout,Did in the field of Simois, whereIlus'bones do restAnd now the Carthaginians, inhabiting the West,Who in the utmost end of Liby' dwell, in arms are prest:And now the Syracuseans their spears do carry in the rest;Whose left arms laden are with targets made of willow tree.'Mongst whom KingHiero, the ancient Worthies' match, I seeIn armour shine; whose plume doth overshade his helmet bright.

The heavens yet have not left to roll both months and years on reels;

And many horses yet shall turn about the Chariot's wheels:

The man shall rise that shall have need of me to set him out;

Doing such deeds of arms asAjax, orAchillesstout,

Did in the field of Simois, whereIlus'bones do rest

And now the Carthaginians, inhabiting the West,

Who in the utmost end of Liby' dwell, in arms are prest:

And now the Syracuseans their spears do carry in the rest;

Whose left arms laden are with targets made of willow tree.

'Mongst whom KingHiero, the ancient Worthies' match, I see

In armour shine; whose plume doth overshade his helmet bright.

OJupiter, and thouMinervafierce in fight,And thouProserpina(who, with thy mother, has renownBy Lysimelia streams, in Ephyra that wealthy town),Out of our island drive our enemies, our bitter fate,Along the Sardine sea! that death of friends they may relateUnto their children and their wives! and that the town opprestBy enemies, of th' old inhabitants may be possesst!That they may till the fields! and sheep upon the downs may bleatBy thousands infinite, and fat! and that the herds of neatAs to their stalls they go, may press the ling'ring traveller!Let grounds be broken up for seed, what time the grasshopperWatching the shepherds by their flocks, in boughs close singing lies!And let the spiders spread their slender webs in armories;So that of War, the very name may not be heard again!

OJupiter, and thouMinervafierce in fight,

And thouProserpina(who, with thy mother, has renown

By Lysimelia streams, in Ephyra that wealthy town),

Out of our island drive our enemies, our bitter fate,

Along the Sardine sea! that death of friends they may relate

Unto their children and their wives! and that the town opprest

By enemies, of th' old inhabitants may be possesst!

That they may till the fields! and sheep upon the downs may bleat

By thousands infinite, and fat! and that the herds of neat

As to their stalls they go, may press the ling'ring traveller!

Let grounds be broken up for seed, what time the grasshopper

Watching the shepherds by their flocks, in boughs close singing lies!

And let the spiders spread their slender webs in armories;

So that of War, the very name may not be heard again!

But let the Poets strive, KingHiero's glory for to strainBeyond the Scythean sea; and far beyond those places whereSemiramisdid build those stately walls, and rule did bear.'Mongst whom, I will be one: for many other men beside,Jove's daughters love; whose study still shall be, both far and wide,Sicilian Arethusa, with the people, to advance;And warlikeHiero. Ye Graces! (who keep resiance [residence]In the Thessalian Mount Orchomenus; to Thebes of oldSo hateful, though of you beloved) to stay I will be bold,Where I am bid to come: and I with them will still remain,That shall invite me to their house, with all my Muses' train.Nor you, will I forsake! For what to men can lovely beWithout your company? The Graces always be with me!

But let the Poets strive, KingHiero's glory for to strain

Beyond the Scythean sea; and far beyond those places where

Semiramisdid build those stately walls, and rule did bear.

'Mongst whom, I will be one: for many other men beside,

Jove's daughters love; whose study still shall be, both far and wide,

Sicilian Arethusa, with the people, to advance;

And warlikeHiero. Ye Graces! (who keep resiance [residence]

In the Thessalian Mount Orchomenus; to Thebes of old

So hateful, though of you beloved) to stay I will be bold,

Where I am bid to come: and I with them will still remain,

That shall invite me to their house, with all my Muses' train.

Nor you, will I forsake! For what to men can lovely be

Without your company? The Graces always be with me!

Emblem.

Si nihil attuleris, ibisHomereforas.

Argument.

Twelve noble Spartan Virgins are brought in singing, in the evening, at the chamber door ofMenelausandHelenaon their Wedding Day. And first they prettily jest with the Bridegroom, then they praiseHelena, last they wish them both joy of their marriage. Therefore this Idillion is entitledHelen's Epithalamionthat is "Helen's Wedding Song."

IN Sparta, long ago, whereMenelauswore the crown,Twelve noble Virgins, daughters to the greatest in the town,All dight upon their hair in crowtoe [hyacinth] garlands fresh and green,Danced at the chamber door ofHelenathe Queen:What time thisMenelaus, the younger son ofAtreus,Did marry with this lovely daughter of PrinceTyndarus;And therewithal, at eve, a Wedding Song they jointly sang,With such a shuffling of their feet that all the palace rang."Fair Bridegroom, do you sleep? Hath slumber all your limbs}possesst?{What, are you drowsy? or hath wine your body so oppresst{That you are gone to bed? For if you needs would take your rest,{You should have ta'en a season meet. Mean time, till it be daySuffer the Bride with us, and with her mother dear, to play!For,Menelaus, She, at evening and at morning tide.From day to day, and year to year, shall be thy loving Bride."O happy Bridegroom, sure some honest man did sneeze to thee,When thou to Sparta came, to meet with such a one as She!}Among the demi-gods thou only art accounted meet{To be the Son-in-law toJove! for underneath one sheet{His daughter lies with thee! Of all that tread on ground with feet{There is not such a one in Greece! Now sure some goodly thingShe will thee bear; if it be like the mother that she bring.For we, her peers in age, whose course of life is e'en the same;Who, at Eurotas' streams, like men, are oilèd to the game:And four times sixty Maids, of all the women youth we are;Of these none wants a fault, if her withHelenwe compare.Like as the rising morn shews a grateful lightening,When sacred night is past; and Winter now lets loose the Spring:So glitteringHelenshined among her Maids, lusty and tall.As is the furrow in a field that far outstretcheth all;Or in a garden is a cypress tree; or in a trace,A steed of Thessaly; so She to Sparta was a grace.No damsel with such works as She, her baskets used to fill;Nor in a divers coloured web, a woof of greater skillDoth cut off from the loom; nor any hath such Songs and LaysUnto her dainty harp, inDian's andMinerva's praise,AsHelenhath: in whose bright eyes all Loves and Graces be."O fair, O lovely Maid! a Matron is now made of thee!But we will, every Spring, unto the leaves in meadow goTo gather garlands sweet; and there, not with a little woe,Will often think of thee, OHelen! as the suckling lambsDesire the strouting bags and presence of their tender dams.We all betimes for thee, a wreath of melitoe will knit;And on a shady plane for thee will safely fasten it.And all betimes for thee, under a shady plane below,Out of a silver box the sweetest ointment will bestow.And letters shall be written in the bark that men may see,And read, DO HUMBLE REVERENCE, FOR I AM HELEN'S TREE!"Sweet Bride, good night! and thou, O happy Bridegroom, now good night!Latonasend your happy issue! who is most of mightIn helping youth; and blissfulVenussend you equal loveBetwixt you both! andJovegive lasting riches from above,Which from your noble selves, unto your noble imps may fall!Sleep on, and breathe into your breasts desires mutual!But in the morning, wake! Forget it not in any wise!And we will then return; as soon as any one shall riseAnd in the chamber stir, and first of all lift up the head!Hymen! O Hymen!now be gladsome at this marriage bed!"

N Sparta, long ago, whereMenelauswore the crown,

Twelve noble Virgins, daughters to the greatest in the town,

All dight upon their hair in crowtoe [hyacinth] garlands fresh and green,

Danced at the chamber door ofHelenathe Queen:

What time thisMenelaus, the younger son ofAtreus,

Did marry with this lovely daughter of PrinceTyndarus;

And therewithal, at eve, a Wedding Song they jointly sang,

With such a shuffling of their feet that all the palace rang.

"Fair Bridegroom, do you sleep? Hath slumber all your limbs}possesst?{What, are you drowsy? or hath wine your body so oppresst{That you are gone to bed? For if you needs would take your rest,{You should have ta'en a season meet. Mean time, till it be daySuffer the Bride with us, and with her mother dear, to play!For,Menelaus, She, at evening and at morning tide.From day to day, and year to year, shall be thy loving Bride.

"Fair Bridegroom, do you sleep? Hath slumber all your limbs

}

possesst?{

What, are you drowsy? or hath wine your body so oppresst{

That you are gone to bed? For if you needs would take your rest,{

You should have ta'en a season meet. Mean time, till it be day

Suffer the Bride with us, and with her mother dear, to play!

For,Menelaus, She, at evening and at morning tide.

From day to day, and year to year, shall be thy loving Bride.

"O happy Bridegroom, sure some honest man did sneeze to thee,When thou to Sparta came, to meet with such a one as She!}Among the demi-gods thou only art accounted meet{To be the Son-in-law toJove! for underneath one sheet{His daughter lies with thee! Of all that tread on ground with feet{There is not such a one in Greece! Now sure some goodly thingShe will thee bear; if it be like the mother that she bring.

"O happy Bridegroom, sure some honest man did sneeze to thee,

When thou to Sparta came, to meet with such a one as She!

}

Among the demi-gods thou only art accounted meet{

To be the Son-in-law toJove! for underneath one sheet{

His daughter lies with thee! Of all that tread on ground with feet{

There is not such a one in Greece! Now sure some goodly thing

She will thee bear; if it be like the mother that she bring.

For we, her peers in age, whose course of life is e'en the same;Who, at Eurotas' streams, like men, are oilèd to the game:And four times sixty Maids, of all the women youth we are;Of these none wants a fault, if her withHelenwe compare.Like as the rising morn shews a grateful lightening,When sacred night is past; and Winter now lets loose the Spring:So glitteringHelenshined among her Maids, lusty and tall.As is the furrow in a field that far outstretcheth all;Or in a garden is a cypress tree; or in a trace,A steed of Thessaly; so She to Sparta was a grace.No damsel with such works as She, her baskets used to fill;Nor in a divers coloured web, a woof of greater skillDoth cut off from the loom; nor any hath such Songs and LaysUnto her dainty harp, inDian's andMinerva's praise,AsHelenhath: in whose bright eyes all Loves and Graces be.

For we, her peers in age, whose course of life is e'en the same;

Who, at Eurotas' streams, like men, are oilèd to the game:

And four times sixty Maids, of all the women youth we are;

Of these none wants a fault, if her withHelenwe compare.

Like as the rising morn shews a grateful lightening,

When sacred night is past; and Winter now lets loose the Spring:

So glitteringHelenshined among her Maids, lusty and tall.

As is the furrow in a field that far outstretcheth all;

Or in a garden is a cypress tree; or in a trace,

A steed of Thessaly; so She to Sparta was a grace.

No damsel with such works as She, her baskets used to fill;

Nor in a divers coloured web, a woof of greater skill

Doth cut off from the loom; nor any hath such Songs and Lays

Unto her dainty harp, inDian's andMinerva's praise,

AsHelenhath: in whose bright eyes all Loves and Graces be.

"O fair, O lovely Maid! a Matron is now made of thee!But we will, every Spring, unto the leaves in meadow goTo gather garlands sweet; and there, not with a little woe,Will often think of thee, OHelen! as the suckling lambsDesire the strouting bags and presence of their tender dams.We all betimes for thee, a wreath of melitoe will knit;And on a shady plane for thee will safely fasten it.And all betimes for thee, under a shady plane below,Out of a silver box the sweetest ointment will bestow.And letters shall be written in the bark that men may see,And read, DO HUMBLE REVERENCE, FOR I AM HELEN'S TREE!

"O fair, O lovely Maid! a Matron is now made of thee!

But we will, every Spring, unto the leaves in meadow go

To gather garlands sweet; and there, not with a little woe,

Will often think of thee, OHelen! as the suckling lambs

Desire the strouting bags and presence of their tender dams.

We all betimes for thee, a wreath of melitoe will knit;

And on a shady plane for thee will safely fasten it.

And all betimes for thee, under a shady plane below,

Out of a silver box the sweetest ointment will bestow.

And letters shall be written in the bark that men may see,

And read, DO HUMBLE REVERENCE, FOR I AM HELEN'S TREE!

"Sweet Bride, good night! and thou, O happy Bridegroom, now good night!Latonasend your happy issue! who is most of mightIn helping youth; and blissfulVenussend you equal loveBetwixt you both! andJovegive lasting riches from above,Which from your noble selves, unto your noble imps may fall!Sleep on, and breathe into your breasts desires mutual!But in the morning, wake! Forget it not in any wise!And we will then return; as soon as any one shall riseAnd in the chamber stir, and first of all lift up the head!Hymen! O Hymen!now be gladsome at this marriage bed!"

"Sweet Bride, good night! and thou, O happy Bridegroom, now good night!

Latonasend your happy issue! who is most of might

In helping youth; and blissfulVenussend you equal love

Betwixt you both! andJovegive lasting riches from above,

Which from your noble selves, unto your noble imps may fall!

Sleep on, and breathe into your breasts desires mutual!

But in the morning, wake! Forget it not in any wise!

And we will then return; as soon as any one shall rise

And in the chamber stir, and first of all lift up the head!

Hymen! O Hymen!now be gladsome at this marriage bed!"

Emblem.

Usque adeo latet utilitas.

Argument.

A Neatherd is brought chafing thatEunica, a Maid of the city, disdained to kiss him. Whereby it is thought thatTheocritusseemeth to check them that think this kind of writing in Poetry to be too base and rustical. And therefore this Poem is termedNeatherd.

EUnicascorned me, when her I would have sweetly kistAnd railing at me said, "Go with a mischief, where thou list!Thinkest thou, a wretched Neatherd, me to kiss! I have no willAfter the country guise to smouch! Of city lips I skill!My lovely mouth, so much as in thy dream, thou shalt not touch!How dost thou look! How dost thou talk! How play'st thou the slouch!How daintily thou speak'st! What Courting words thou bringest out!How soft a beard thou hast! How fair thy locks hang round about!Thy lips are like a sick man's lips! thy hands, so black they be!And rankly thou dost smell! Away, lest thou defilest me!"Having thus said, she spattered on her bosom twice or thrice;And, still beholding me from top to toe in scornful wise,She muttered with her lips; and with her eyes she looked aside,And of her beauty wondrous coy she was; her mouth she wryed,And proudly mocked me to my face. My blood boiled in each vein,And red I wox for grief as doth the rose with dewy rain.Thus leaving me, away she flang! Since when, it vexeth meThat I should be so scorned of such a filthy drab as She."Ye shepherds, tell me true, am not I as fair as any swan?Hath of a sudden any god made me another man?For well I wot, before a comely grace in me did shine,Like ivy round about a tree, and decked this beard of mine.My crispèd locks, like parsley, on my temples wont to spread;And on my eyebrows black a milk white forehead glisterèd:More seemly were mine eyes than areMinerva's eyes, I know.My mouth for sweetness passèd cheese; and from my mouth did flowA voice more sweet than honeycombs. Sweet is my RoundelayWhen on the whistle, flute, or pipe, or cornet I do play.And all the women on our hills do say that I am fair,And all do love me well: but these that breathe the city airDid never love me yet. And why? The cause is this I know.That I a Neatherd am. They hear not how in vales below,FairBacchuskept a herd of beasts. Nor can these nice ones tellHowVenus, raving for a Neatherd's love, with him did dwellUpon the hills of Phrygia; and how she loved againAdonisin the woods, and mourned in woods when he was slain.Who wasEndymion? Was he not a Neatherd? Yet the MoonDid love this Neatherd so, that, from the heavens descending soon,She came to Latmos grove where with the dainty lad she lay.AndRhea, thou a Neatherd dost bewail! and thou, all day,O mightyJupiter! but for a shepherd's boy didst stray!Eunicaonly, deigned not a Neatherd for to love:Better, forsooth, thanCybel,Venus, or the Moon above!AndVenus, thou hereafter must not love thy fairAdoneIn city, nor on hill! but all the night must sleep alone!"Emblem.Habitarunt Dii quoque sylvas.

Unicascorned me, when her I would have sweetly kist

And railing at me said, "Go with a mischief, where thou list!

Thinkest thou, a wretched Neatherd, me to kiss! I have no will

After the country guise to smouch! Of city lips I skill!

My lovely mouth, so much as in thy dream, thou shalt not touch!

How dost thou look! How dost thou talk! How play'st thou the slouch!

How daintily thou speak'st! What Courting words thou bringest out!

How soft a beard thou hast! How fair thy locks hang round about!

Thy lips are like a sick man's lips! thy hands, so black they be!

And rankly thou dost smell! Away, lest thou defilest me!"

Having thus said, she spattered on her bosom twice or thrice;

And, still beholding me from top to toe in scornful wise,

She muttered with her lips; and with her eyes she looked aside,

And of her beauty wondrous coy she was; her mouth she wryed,

And proudly mocked me to my face. My blood boiled in each vein,

And red I wox for grief as doth the rose with dewy rain.

Thus leaving me, away she flang! Since when, it vexeth me

That I should be so scorned of such a filthy drab as She.

"Ye shepherds, tell me true, am not I as fair as any swan?

Hath of a sudden any god made me another man?

For well I wot, before a comely grace in me did shine,

Like ivy round about a tree, and decked this beard of mine.

My crispèd locks, like parsley, on my temples wont to spread;

And on my eyebrows black a milk white forehead glisterèd:

More seemly were mine eyes than areMinerva's eyes, I know.

My mouth for sweetness passèd cheese; and from my mouth did flow

A voice more sweet than honeycombs. Sweet is my Roundelay

When on the whistle, flute, or pipe, or cornet I do play.

And all the women on our hills do say that I am fair,

And all do love me well: but these that breathe the city air

Did never love me yet. And why? The cause is this I know.

That I a Neatherd am. They hear not how in vales below,

FairBacchuskept a herd of beasts. Nor can these nice ones tell

HowVenus, raving for a Neatherd's love, with him did dwell

Upon the hills of Phrygia; and how she loved again

Adonisin the woods, and mourned in woods when he was slain.

Who wasEndymion? Was he not a Neatherd? Yet the Moon

Did love this Neatherd so, that, from the heavens descending soon,

She came to Latmos grove where with the dainty lad she lay.

AndRhea, thou a Neatherd dost bewail! and thou, all day,

O mightyJupiter! but for a shepherd's boy didst stray!

Eunicaonly, deigned not a Neatherd for to love:

Better, forsooth, thanCybel,Venus, or the Moon above!

AndVenus, thou hereafter must not love thy fairAdone

In city, nor on hill! but all the night must sleep alone!"

Emblem.

Habitarunt Dii quoque sylvas.

Argument

The conceit of this Idillion is very delicate. Wherein it is imagined howVenusdid send for the Boar who in hunting slewAdonis, a dainty youth whom she loved: and how the Boar answering for himself that he slew him against his will, as being enamoured on him, and thinking only to kiss his naked thigh; she forgave him. The Poet's drift is to shew the power of Love, not only in men, but also in brute beasts: although in the last two verses, by the burning of the Boar's amorous teeth, he intimateth that extravagant and unorderly passions are to be restrained by reason.

WHen Venusfirst did seeAdonisdead to be;With woeful tattered hairAnd cheeks so wan and sear,The wingèd Loves she bade,The Boar should straight be had.Forthwith like birds they fly,And through the wood they hie;The woeful beast they find,And him with cords they bind.One with a rope beforeDoth lead the captive Boar:Another on his backDoth make his bow to crack.The beast went wretchedly,ForVenushorriblyHe feared; who thus him curst:"Of all the beasts the worst,Didst thou this thigh so wound?Didst thou my Love confound?"The beast thus spake in fear"Venus, to thee I swear!By thee, and husband thine,And by these bands of mine,And by these hunters all,Thy husband fair and tall,I mindèd not to kill!But, as an image still,I him beheld for love:Which made me forward shoveHis thigh, that naked was;Thinking to kiss, alas,And that hath hurt me thus."Wherefore these teeth,Venus!Or punish, or cut out:Why bear I in my snoutThese needless teeth about!If these may not suffice;Cut off my chaps likewise!"To ruth heVenusmoves,And she commands the Loves,His bands for to untie.After he came not nighThe wood; but at her willHe followedVenusstill.And coming to the fire,He burnt up his desire.Emblem.Raris forma viris, secula prospiceImpunita fuit.

Hen Venusfirst did see

Adonisdead to be;

With woeful tattered hair

And cheeks so wan and sear,

The wingèd Loves she bade,

The Boar should straight be had.

Forthwith like birds they fly,

And through the wood they hie;

The woeful beast they find,

And him with cords they bind.

One with a rope before

Doth lead the captive Boar:

Another on his back

Doth make his bow to crack.

The beast went wretchedly,

ForVenushorribly

He feared; who thus him curst:

"Of all the beasts the worst,

Didst thou this thigh so wound?

Didst thou my Love confound?"

The beast thus spake in fear

"Venus, to thee I swear!

By thee, and husband thine,

And by these bands of mine,

And by these hunters all,

Thy husband fair and tall,

I mindèd not to kill!

But, as an image still,

I him beheld for love:

Which made me forward shove

His thigh, that naked was;

Thinking to kiss, alas,

And that hath hurt me thus.

"Wherefore these teeth,Venus!

Or punish, or cut out:

Why bear I in my snout

These needless teeth about!

If these may not suffice;

Cut off my chaps likewise!"

To ruth heVenusmoves,

And she commands the Loves,

His bands for to untie.

After he came not nigh

The wood; but at her will

He followedVenusstill.

And coming to the fire,

He burnt up his desire.

Emblem.

Raris forma viris, secula prospiceImpunita fuit.

Raris forma viris, secula prospice

Impunita fuit.

FINIS.

The AffectionateShepheard.Containing the Complaint ofDaphnisforthe loue ofGanymede.Amor plus mellis, quam fellis, est.LONDON,Printed by Iohn Danter for T.G. and E.N.and are to bee sold in Saint DunstonesChurch-yeard in Fleetstreet,1594.

Containing the Complaint ofDaphnisforthe loue ofGanymede.

Amor plus mellis, quam fellis, est.

LONDON,Printed by Iohn Danter for T.G. and E.N.and are to bee sold in Saint DunstonesChurch-yeard in Fleetstreet,1594.

To the Right Excellentand most beautifull Lady, the LadiePENELOPE RITCH.FAyre louely Ladie, vvhose Angelique eyesAre Vestall Candles of sweet Beauties Treasure,Whose speech is able to inchaunt the wise,Conuerting Ioy to Paine, and Paine to Pleasure;Accept this simple Toy of my Soules Dutie,Which I present vnto thy matchles Beautie.And albeit the gift be all too meane,Too meane an Offring for thine Iuorie Shrine;Yet must thy Beautie my iust blame susteane,Since it is mortall, but thy selfe diuine.Then(Noble Ladie)take in gentle vvorth,This new-borne Babe which here my Muse brings forth.Your Honours most affectionateand perpetually deuoted Shepheard:DAPHNIS.

FAyre louely Ladie, vvhose Angelique eyesAre Vestall Candles of sweet Beauties Treasure,Whose speech is able to inchaunt the wise,Conuerting Ioy to Paine, and Paine to Pleasure;Accept this simple Toy of my Soules Dutie,Which I present vnto thy matchles Beautie.And albeit the gift be all too meane,Too meane an Offring for thine Iuorie Shrine;Yet must thy Beautie my iust blame susteane,Since it is mortall, but thy selfe diuine.Then(Noble Ladie)take in gentle vvorth,This new-borne Babe which here my Muse brings forth.Your Honours most affectionateand perpetually deuoted Shepheard:DAPHNIS.

Ayre louely Ladie, vvhose Angelique eyes

Are Vestall Candles of sweet Beauties Treasure,

Whose speech is able to inchaunt the wise,

Conuerting Ioy to Paine, and Paine to Pleasure;

Accept this simple Toy of my Soules Dutie,

Which I present vnto thy matchles Beautie.

And albeit the gift be all too meane,Too meane an Offring for thine Iuorie Shrine;Yet must thy Beautie my iust blame susteane,Since it is mortall, but thy selfe diuine.Then(Noble Ladie)take in gentle vvorth,This new-borne Babe which here my Muse brings forth.

And albeit the gift be all too meane,

Too meane an Offring for thine Iuorie Shrine;

Yet must thy Beautie my iust blame susteane,

Since it is mortall, but thy selfe diuine.

Then(Noble Ladie)take in gentle vvorth,

This new-borne Babe which here my Muse brings forth.

Your Honours most affectionateand perpetually deuoted Shepheard:DAPHNIS.

Your Honours most affectionate

and perpetually deuoted Shepheard:

DAPHNIS.

ORThe Complaint ofDaphnisfor the LoueofGanimede.

SCarce had the morning Starre hid from the lightHeauens crimson Canopie with stars bespangled,But I began to rue th'vnhappy sightOf that faire Boy that had my hart intangled;Cursing the Time, the Place, the sense, the sin;I came, I saw, I viewd, I slipped in.If it be sinne to loue a sweet-fac'd Boy,(Whose amber locks trust vp in golden tramelsDangle adowne his louely cheekes with ioy,When pearle and flowers his faire haire enamels)If it be sinne to loue a louely Lad;Oh then sinne I, for whom my soule is sad.His Iuory-white and Alabaster skinIs staind throughout with rare Vermillion red,Whose twinckling starrie lights do neuer blinTo shine on louelyVenus(Beauties bed:)But as the Lillie and the blushing Rose,So white and red on him in order growes.Vpon a time the Nymphs bestird them-seluesTo trie who could his beautie soonest win:But he accounted them but all as Elues,Except it were the faire QueeneGuendolen,Her he embrac'd, of her was beloued,With plaints he proued, and with teares he moued.But her an Old-Man had beene sutor too,That in his age began to doate againe;Her would he often pray, and often woo,When through old-age enfeebled was his Braine:But she before had lou'd a lustie youthThat now was dead, the cause of all her ruth.And thus it hapned, Death andCupidmetVpon a time at swillingBacchushouse,Where daintie cates vpon the Board were set,And Goblets full of wine to drinke carouse:Where Loue and Death did loue the licor so,That out they fall and to the fray they goe.And hauing both their Quiuers at their backeFild full of Arrows; Th'one of fatall steele,The other all of gold; Deaths shaft was black,But Loues was yellow: Fortune turnd her wheele;And from Deaths Quiuer fell a fatall shaft,That vnderCupidby the winde was waft.And at the same time by ill hap there fellAnother Arrow out ofCupidsQuiuer;The which was carried by the winde at will,And vnder Death the amorous shaft did shiuer:They being parted, Loue tooke vp Deaths dart,And Death tooke vp Loues Arrow (for his part.)Thus as they wandred both about the world,At last Death met with one of feeble age:Wherewith he drew a shaft and at him hurldThe vnknowne Arrow; (with a furious rage)Thinking to strike him dead with Deaths blacke dart,But he (alas) with Loue did wound his hart.This was the doting foole, this was the manThat lou'd faireGuendolenaQueene of Beautie;Shee cannot shake him off, doo what she can,For he hath vowd to her his soules last duety:Making him trim vpon the holy-daies;And crownes his Loue with Garlands made of Baies.Now doth he stroke his Beard; and now (againe)He wipes the driuel from his filthy chin;Now offers he a kisse; but high DisdaineWill not permit her hart to pity him:Her hart more hard than Adamant or steele,Her hart more changeable than Fortunes wheele.But leaue we him in loue (vp to the eares)And tell how Loue behau'd himselfe abroad;Who seeing one that mourned still in teares(a young-man groaning vnder Loues great Load)Thinking to ease his Burden, rid his paines:For men haue griefe as long as life remaines.Alas (the while) that vnawares he drueThe fatall shaft that Death had dropt before;By which deceit great harme did then issue,Stayning his face with blood and filthy goare.His face, that was toGuendolenmore deereThan loue of Lords, of any lordly Peere.This was that faire and beautifull young-man,WhomGuendolenaso lamented for;This is that Loue whom she doth curse and ban,Because she doth that dismall chaunce abhor:And if it were not for his Mothers sake,EuenGanimedehimselfe she would forsake.Oh would shee would forsake myGanimede,Whose sugred loue is full of sweete delight,Vpon whose fore-head you may plainely readeLoues Pleasure, grau'd in yuorie Tables bright:In whose faire eye-balls you may clearely seeBase Loue still staind with foule indignitie.Oh would to God he would but pitty mee,That loue him more than any mortall wight;Then he and I with loue would soone agree,That now cannot abide his Sutors sight.O would to God (so I might haue my fee)My lips were honey, and thy mouth a Bee.Then shouldst thou sucke my sweete and my faire flowerThat now is ripe, and full of honey-berries:Then would I leade thee to my pleasant BowerFild full of Grapes, of Mulberries, and Cherries;Then shouldst thou be my Waspe or else my Bee,I would thy hiue, and thou my honey bee.I would put amber Bracelets on thy wrests,Crownets of Pearle about thy naked Armes:And when thou sitst at swillingBacchusfeastsMy lips with charmes should saue thee from all harmes:And when in sleepe thou tookst thy chiefest Pleasure,Mine eyes should gaze vpon thine eye-lids Treasure.And euery Morne by dawning of the day,WhenPhœbusriseth with a blushing face,SiluanusChappel-Clarkes shall chaunt a Lay,And play thee hunts-vp in thy resting place:My Coote thy Chamber, my bosome thy Bed;Shall be appointed for thy sleepy head.And when it pleaseth thee to walke abroad,(Abroad into the fields to take fresh ayre:)The Meades withFlorastreasure should be strowde,(The mantled meaddowes, and the fields so fayre.)And by a siluer Well (with golden sands)Ile sit me downe, and wash thine yuory hands.And in the sweltring heate of summer time,I would make Cabinets for thee (my Loue:)Sweet-smelling Arbours made of EglantineShould be thy shrine, and I would be thy Doue.Coole Cabinets of fresh greene Laurell boughsShould shadow vs, ore-set with thicke-set Eughes.Or if thou list to bathe thy naked limbs,Within the Christall of a Pearle-bright brooke,Paued with dainty pibbles to the brims;Or cleare, wherein thyselfe thy selfe mayst looke;Weele goe toLadon, whose still trickling noyse,Will lull thee fast asleepe amids thy ioyes.Or if thoult goe vnto the Riuer side,To angle for the sweet fresh-water fish:Arm'd with thy implements that will abide(Thy rod, hooke, line) to take a dainty dish;Thy rods shall be of cane, thy lines of silke,Thy hooks of siluer, and thy bayts of milke.Or if thou lou'st to heare sweet Melodie,Or pipe a Round vpon an Oaten Reede,Or make thy selfe glad with some myrthfull glee,Or play them Musicke whilst thy flocke doth feede;ToPansowne Pipe Ile helpe my louely Lad,(Pansgolden Pype) which he ofSyrinxhad.Or if thou dar'st to climbe the highest TreesFor Apples, Cherries, Medlars, Peares, or Plumbs,Nuts, Walnuts, Filbeards, Chest-nuts, Ceruices,The hoary Peach, when snowy winter comes;I have fine Orchards full of mellowed frute;Which I will giue thee to obtain my sute.Not proudAlcynoushimselfe can vaunt,Of goodlier Orchards or of brauer TreesThan I haue planted; yet thou wilt not grauntMy simple sute; but like the honey BeesThou suckst the flowre till all the sweet be gone;And lou'st mee for my Coyne till I haue none.LeaveGuendolen(sweet hart) though she be faireYet is she light; not light in vertue shining:But light in her behauiour, to impaireHer honour in her Chastities declining;Trust not her teares, for they can watonnize,When teares in pearle are trickling from her eyes.If thou wilt come and dwell with me at home;My sheep-cote shall be strowd with new greene rushes:Weele haunt the trembling Prickets as they romeAbout the fields, along the hauthorne bushes;I haue a pie-bald Curre to hunt the Hare:So we will liue with daintie forrest fare.Nay more than this, I haue a Garden-plot,Wherein there wants nor hearbs, nor roots, nor flowers;(Flowers to smell, roots to eate, hearbs for the pot,)And dainty Shelters when the Welkin lowers:Sweet-smelling Beds of Lillies and of Roses,Which Rosemary banks and Lauender incloses.There growes the Gilliflowre, the Mynt, the Dayzie(Both red and white,) the blew-veynd-Violet:The purple Hyacinth, the Spyke to please thee,The scarlet dyde Carnation bleeding yet;The Sage, the Sauery, and sweet Margerum,Isop, Tyme, and Eye-bright, good for the blinde and dumbe.The Pinke, the Primrose, Cowslip, and Daffadilly,The Hare-bell blue, the crimson Cullumbine,Sage, Lettis, Parsley, and the milke-white Lilly,The Rose, and speckled flowre cald Sops in wine,Fine pretie King-cups, and the yellow Bootes,That growes by Riuers, and by shallow Brookes.And manie thousand moe (I cannot name)Of hearbs and flowers that in gardens grow,I haue for thee; and Coneyes that be tame,Yong Rabbets, white as Swan, and blacke as Crow,Some speckled here and there with daintie spots:And more I haue two mylch and milke-white Goates.All these, and more, Ile giue thee for thy loue;If these, and more, may tyce thy loue away:I haue a Pidgeon-house, in it a Doue,Which I loue more than mortall tongue can say:And last of all, Ile giue thee a little LambeTo play withall, new weaned from her Dam.But if thou wilt not pittie my Complaint,My Teares, nor Vowes, nor Oathes, made to thy Beautie:What shall I doo? But languish, die, or faint,Since thou dost scorne my Teares, and my Soules Duetie:And Teares contemned, Vowes and Oaths must faile;For where Teares cannot, nothing can preuaile.Compare the loue of faire QueeneGuendolinWith mine, and thou shalt [s]ee how she doth loue thee:I loue thee for thy qualities diuine,But She doth loue another Swaine aboue thee:I loue thee for thy gifts, She for hir pleasure;I for thy Vertue, She for Beauties treasure.And alwaies (I am sure) it cannot last,But sometime Nature will denie those dimples:In steed of Beautie (when thy Blossom's past)Thy face will be deformed, full of wrinckles:Then She that lou'd thee for thy Beauties sake,When Age drawes on, thy loue will soone forsake.But I that lou'd thee for thy gifts diuine,In the December of thy Beauties waning,Will still admire (with ioy) those louely eine,That now behold me with their beauties baning:Though Ianuarie will neuer come againe,Yet Aprill yeres will come in showers of raine.When will my May come, that I may embrace thee?When will the hower be of my soules ioying?Why dost thou seeke in mirthe still to disgrace mee?Whose mirth's my health, whose griefe's my harts annoying.Thy bane my bale, thy blisse my blessednes,Thy ill my hell, thy weale my welfare is.Thus doo I honour thee that loue thee so,And loue thee so, that so doo honour thee,Much more than anie mortall man doth know,Or can discerne by Loue or Iealozie:But if that thou disdainst my louing euer;Oh happie I, if I had loued neuer.Finis.Plus fellis quam mellis Amor.

Carce had the morning Starre hid from the light

Heauens crimson Canopie with stars bespangled,

But I began to rue th'vnhappy sight

Of that faire Boy that had my hart intangled;

Cursing the Time, the Place, the sense, the sin;

I came, I saw, I viewd, I slipped in.

If it be sinne to loue a sweet-fac'd Boy,(Whose amber locks trust vp in golden tramelsDangle adowne his louely cheekes with ioy,When pearle and flowers his faire haire enamels)If it be sinne to loue a louely Lad;Oh then sinne I, for whom my soule is sad.

If it be sinne to loue a sweet-fac'd Boy,

(Whose amber locks trust vp in golden tramels

Dangle adowne his louely cheekes with ioy,

When pearle and flowers his faire haire enamels)

If it be sinne to loue a louely Lad;

Oh then sinne I, for whom my soule is sad.

His Iuory-white and Alabaster skinIs staind throughout with rare Vermillion red,Whose twinckling starrie lights do neuer blinTo shine on louelyVenus(Beauties bed:)But as the Lillie and the blushing Rose,So white and red on him in order growes.

His Iuory-white and Alabaster skin

Is staind throughout with rare Vermillion red,

Whose twinckling starrie lights do neuer blin

To shine on louelyVenus(Beauties bed:)

But as the Lillie and the blushing Rose,

So white and red on him in order growes.

Vpon a time the Nymphs bestird them-seluesTo trie who could his beautie soonest win:But he accounted them but all as Elues,Except it were the faire QueeneGuendolen,Her he embrac'd, of her was beloued,With plaints he proued, and with teares he moued.

Vpon a time the Nymphs bestird them-selues

To trie who could his beautie soonest win:

But he accounted them but all as Elues,

Except it were the faire QueeneGuendolen,

Her he embrac'd, of her was beloued,

With plaints he proued, and with teares he moued.

But her an Old-Man had beene sutor too,That in his age began to doate againe;Her would he often pray, and often woo,When through old-age enfeebled was his Braine:But she before had lou'd a lustie youthThat now was dead, the cause of all her ruth.

But her an Old-Man had beene sutor too,

That in his age began to doate againe;

Her would he often pray, and often woo,

When through old-age enfeebled was his Braine:

But she before had lou'd a lustie youth

That now was dead, the cause of all her ruth.

And thus it hapned, Death andCupidmetVpon a time at swillingBacchushouse,Where daintie cates vpon the Board were set,And Goblets full of wine to drinke carouse:Where Loue and Death did loue the licor so,That out they fall and to the fray they goe.

And thus it hapned, Death andCupidmet

Vpon a time at swillingBacchushouse,

Where daintie cates vpon the Board were set,

And Goblets full of wine to drinke carouse:

Where Loue and Death did loue the licor so,

That out they fall and to the fray they goe.

And hauing both their Quiuers at their backeFild full of Arrows; Th'one of fatall steele,The other all of gold; Deaths shaft was black,But Loues was yellow: Fortune turnd her wheele;And from Deaths Quiuer fell a fatall shaft,That vnderCupidby the winde was waft.

And hauing both their Quiuers at their backe

Fild full of Arrows; Th'one of fatall steele,

The other all of gold; Deaths shaft was black,

But Loues was yellow: Fortune turnd her wheele;

And from Deaths Quiuer fell a fatall shaft,

That vnderCupidby the winde was waft.

And at the same time by ill hap there fellAnother Arrow out ofCupidsQuiuer;The which was carried by the winde at will,And vnder Death the amorous shaft did shiuer:They being parted, Loue tooke vp Deaths dart,And Death tooke vp Loues Arrow (for his part.)

And at the same time by ill hap there fell

Another Arrow out ofCupidsQuiuer;

The which was carried by the winde at will,

And vnder Death the amorous shaft did shiuer:

They being parted, Loue tooke vp Deaths dart,

And Death tooke vp Loues Arrow (for his part.)

Thus as they wandred both about the world,At last Death met with one of feeble age:Wherewith he drew a shaft and at him hurldThe vnknowne Arrow; (with a furious rage)Thinking to strike him dead with Deaths blacke dart,But he (alas) with Loue did wound his hart.

Thus as they wandred both about the world,

At last Death met with one of feeble age:

Wherewith he drew a shaft and at him hurld

The vnknowne Arrow; (with a furious rage)

Thinking to strike him dead with Deaths blacke dart,

But he (alas) with Loue did wound his hart.

This was the doting foole, this was the manThat lou'd faireGuendolenaQueene of Beautie;Shee cannot shake him off, doo what she can,For he hath vowd to her his soules last duety:Making him trim vpon the holy-daies;And crownes his Loue with Garlands made of Baies.

This was the doting foole, this was the man

That lou'd faireGuendolenaQueene of Beautie;

Shee cannot shake him off, doo what she can,

For he hath vowd to her his soules last duety:

Making him trim vpon the holy-daies;

And crownes his Loue with Garlands made of Baies.

Now doth he stroke his Beard; and now (againe)He wipes the driuel from his filthy chin;Now offers he a kisse; but high DisdaineWill not permit her hart to pity him:Her hart more hard than Adamant or steele,Her hart more changeable than Fortunes wheele.

Now doth he stroke his Beard; and now (againe)

He wipes the driuel from his filthy chin;

Now offers he a kisse; but high Disdaine

Will not permit her hart to pity him:

Her hart more hard than Adamant or steele,

Her hart more changeable than Fortunes wheele.

But leaue we him in loue (vp to the eares)And tell how Loue behau'd himselfe abroad;Who seeing one that mourned still in teares(a young-man groaning vnder Loues great Load)Thinking to ease his Burden, rid his paines:For men haue griefe as long as life remaines.

But leaue we him in loue (vp to the eares)

And tell how Loue behau'd himselfe abroad;

Who seeing one that mourned still in teares

(a young-man groaning vnder Loues great Load)

Thinking to ease his Burden, rid his paines:

For men haue griefe as long as life remaines.

Alas (the while) that vnawares he drueThe fatall shaft that Death had dropt before;By which deceit great harme did then issue,Stayning his face with blood and filthy goare.His face, that was toGuendolenmore deereThan loue of Lords, of any lordly Peere.

Alas (the while) that vnawares he drue

The fatall shaft that Death had dropt before;

By which deceit great harme did then issue,

Stayning his face with blood and filthy goare.

His face, that was toGuendolenmore deere

Than loue of Lords, of any lordly Peere.

This was that faire and beautifull young-man,WhomGuendolenaso lamented for;This is that Loue whom she doth curse and ban,Because she doth that dismall chaunce abhor:And if it were not for his Mothers sake,EuenGanimedehimselfe she would forsake.

This was that faire and beautifull young-man,

WhomGuendolenaso lamented for;

This is that Loue whom she doth curse and ban,

Because she doth that dismall chaunce abhor:

And if it were not for his Mothers sake,

EuenGanimedehimselfe she would forsake.

Oh would shee would forsake myGanimede,Whose sugred loue is full of sweete delight,Vpon whose fore-head you may plainely readeLoues Pleasure, grau'd in yuorie Tables bright:In whose faire eye-balls you may clearely seeBase Loue still staind with foule indignitie.

Oh would shee would forsake myGanimede,

Whose sugred loue is full of sweete delight,

Vpon whose fore-head you may plainely reade

Loues Pleasure, grau'd in yuorie Tables bright:

In whose faire eye-balls you may clearely see

Base Loue still staind with foule indignitie.

Oh would to God he would but pitty mee,That loue him more than any mortall wight;Then he and I with loue would soone agree,That now cannot abide his Sutors sight.O would to God (so I might haue my fee)My lips were honey, and thy mouth a Bee.

Oh would to God he would but pitty mee,

That loue him more than any mortall wight;

Then he and I with loue would soone agree,

That now cannot abide his Sutors sight.

O would to God (so I might haue my fee)

My lips were honey, and thy mouth a Bee.

Then shouldst thou sucke my sweete and my faire flowerThat now is ripe, and full of honey-berries:Then would I leade thee to my pleasant BowerFild full of Grapes, of Mulberries, and Cherries;Then shouldst thou be my Waspe or else my Bee,I would thy hiue, and thou my honey bee.

Then shouldst thou sucke my sweete and my faire flower

That now is ripe, and full of honey-berries:

Then would I leade thee to my pleasant Bower

Fild full of Grapes, of Mulberries, and Cherries;

Then shouldst thou be my Waspe or else my Bee,

I would thy hiue, and thou my honey bee.

I would put amber Bracelets on thy wrests,Crownets of Pearle about thy naked Armes:And when thou sitst at swillingBacchusfeastsMy lips with charmes should saue thee from all harmes:And when in sleepe thou tookst thy chiefest Pleasure,Mine eyes should gaze vpon thine eye-lids Treasure.

I would put amber Bracelets on thy wrests,

Crownets of Pearle about thy naked Armes:

And when thou sitst at swillingBacchusfeasts

My lips with charmes should saue thee from all harmes:

And when in sleepe thou tookst thy chiefest Pleasure,

Mine eyes should gaze vpon thine eye-lids Treasure.

And euery Morne by dawning of the day,WhenPhœbusriseth with a blushing face,SiluanusChappel-Clarkes shall chaunt a Lay,And play thee hunts-vp in thy resting place:My Coote thy Chamber, my bosome thy Bed;Shall be appointed for thy sleepy head.

And euery Morne by dawning of the day,

WhenPhœbusriseth with a blushing face,

SiluanusChappel-Clarkes shall chaunt a Lay,

And play thee hunts-vp in thy resting place:

My Coote thy Chamber, my bosome thy Bed;

Shall be appointed for thy sleepy head.

And when it pleaseth thee to walke abroad,(Abroad into the fields to take fresh ayre:)The Meades withFlorastreasure should be strowde,(The mantled meaddowes, and the fields so fayre.)And by a siluer Well (with golden sands)Ile sit me downe, and wash thine yuory hands.

And when it pleaseth thee to walke abroad,

(Abroad into the fields to take fresh ayre:)

The Meades withFlorastreasure should be strowde,

(The mantled meaddowes, and the fields so fayre.)

And by a siluer Well (with golden sands)

Ile sit me downe, and wash thine yuory hands.

And in the sweltring heate of summer time,I would make Cabinets for thee (my Loue:)Sweet-smelling Arbours made of EglantineShould be thy shrine, and I would be thy Doue.Coole Cabinets of fresh greene Laurell boughsShould shadow vs, ore-set with thicke-set Eughes.

And in the sweltring heate of summer time,

I would make Cabinets for thee (my Loue:)

Sweet-smelling Arbours made of Eglantine

Should be thy shrine, and I would be thy Doue.

Coole Cabinets of fresh greene Laurell boughs

Should shadow vs, ore-set with thicke-set Eughes.

Or if thou list to bathe thy naked limbs,Within the Christall of a Pearle-bright brooke,Paued with dainty pibbles to the brims;Or cleare, wherein thyselfe thy selfe mayst looke;Weele goe toLadon, whose still trickling noyse,Will lull thee fast asleepe amids thy ioyes.

Or if thou list to bathe thy naked limbs,

Within the Christall of a Pearle-bright brooke,

Paued with dainty pibbles to the brims;

Or cleare, wherein thyselfe thy selfe mayst looke;

Weele goe toLadon, whose still trickling noyse,

Will lull thee fast asleepe amids thy ioyes.

Or if thoult goe vnto the Riuer side,To angle for the sweet fresh-water fish:Arm'd with thy implements that will abide(Thy rod, hooke, line) to take a dainty dish;Thy rods shall be of cane, thy lines of silke,Thy hooks of siluer, and thy bayts of milke.

Or if thoult goe vnto the Riuer side,

To angle for the sweet fresh-water fish:

Arm'd with thy implements that will abide

(Thy rod, hooke, line) to take a dainty dish;

Thy rods shall be of cane, thy lines of silke,

Thy hooks of siluer, and thy bayts of milke.

Or if thou lou'st to heare sweet Melodie,Or pipe a Round vpon an Oaten Reede,Or make thy selfe glad with some myrthfull glee,Or play them Musicke whilst thy flocke doth feede;ToPansowne Pipe Ile helpe my louely Lad,(Pansgolden Pype) which he ofSyrinxhad.

Or if thou lou'st to heare sweet Melodie,

Or pipe a Round vpon an Oaten Reede,

Or make thy selfe glad with some myrthfull glee,

Or play them Musicke whilst thy flocke doth feede;

ToPansowne Pipe Ile helpe my louely Lad,

(Pansgolden Pype) which he ofSyrinxhad.

Or if thou dar'st to climbe the highest TreesFor Apples, Cherries, Medlars, Peares, or Plumbs,Nuts, Walnuts, Filbeards, Chest-nuts, Ceruices,The hoary Peach, when snowy winter comes;I have fine Orchards full of mellowed frute;Which I will giue thee to obtain my sute.

Or if thou dar'st to climbe the highest Trees

For Apples, Cherries, Medlars, Peares, or Plumbs,

Nuts, Walnuts, Filbeards, Chest-nuts, Ceruices,

The hoary Peach, when snowy winter comes;

I have fine Orchards full of mellowed frute;

Which I will giue thee to obtain my sute.

Not proudAlcynoushimselfe can vaunt,Of goodlier Orchards or of brauer TreesThan I haue planted; yet thou wilt not grauntMy simple sute; but like the honey BeesThou suckst the flowre till all the sweet be gone;And lou'st mee for my Coyne till I haue none.

Not proudAlcynoushimselfe can vaunt,

Of goodlier Orchards or of brauer Trees

Than I haue planted; yet thou wilt not graunt

My simple sute; but like the honey Bees

Thou suckst the flowre till all the sweet be gone;

And lou'st mee for my Coyne till I haue none.

LeaveGuendolen(sweet hart) though she be faireYet is she light; not light in vertue shining:But light in her behauiour, to impaireHer honour in her Chastities declining;Trust not her teares, for they can watonnize,When teares in pearle are trickling from her eyes.

LeaveGuendolen(sweet hart) though she be faire

Yet is she light; not light in vertue shining:

But light in her behauiour, to impaire

Her honour in her Chastities declining;

Trust not her teares, for they can watonnize,

When teares in pearle are trickling from her eyes.

If thou wilt come and dwell with me at home;My sheep-cote shall be strowd with new greene rushes:Weele haunt the trembling Prickets as they romeAbout the fields, along the hauthorne bushes;I haue a pie-bald Curre to hunt the Hare:So we will liue with daintie forrest fare.

If thou wilt come and dwell with me at home;

My sheep-cote shall be strowd with new greene rushes:

Weele haunt the trembling Prickets as they rome

About the fields, along the hauthorne bushes;

I haue a pie-bald Curre to hunt the Hare:

So we will liue with daintie forrest fare.

Nay more than this, I haue a Garden-plot,Wherein there wants nor hearbs, nor roots, nor flowers;(Flowers to smell, roots to eate, hearbs for the pot,)And dainty Shelters when the Welkin lowers:Sweet-smelling Beds of Lillies and of Roses,Which Rosemary banks and Lauender incloses.

Nay more than this, I haue a Garden-plot,

Wherein there wants nor hearbs, nor roots, nor flowers;

(Flowers to smell, roots to eate, hearbs for the pot,)

And dainty Shelters when the Welkin lowers:

Sweet-smelling Beds of Lillies and of Roses,

Which Rosemary banks and Lauender incloses.

There growes the Gilliflowre, the Mynt, the Dayzie(Both red and white,) the blew-veynd-Violet:The purple Hyacinth, the Spyke to please thee,The scarlet dyde Carnation bleeding yet;The Sage, the Sauery, and sweet Margerum,Isop, Tyme, and Eye-bright, good for the blinde and dumbe.

There growes the Gilliflowre, the Mynt, the Dayzie

(Both red and white,) the blew-veynd-Violet:

The purple Hyacinth, the Spyke to please thee,

The scarlet dyde Carnation bleeding yet;

The Sage, the Sauery, and sweet Margerum,

Isop, Tyme, and Eye-bright, good for the blinde and dumbe.

The Pinke, the Primrose, Cowslip, and Daffadilly,The Hare-bell blue, the crimson Cullumbine,Sage, Lettis, Parsley, and the milke-white Lilly,The Rose, and speckled flowre cald Sops in wine,Fine pretie King-cups, and the yellow Bootes,That growes by Riuers, and by shallow Brookes.

The Pinke, the Primrose, Cowslip, and Daffadilly,

The Hare-bell blue, the crimson Cullumbine,

Sage, Lettis, Parsley, and the milke-white Lilly,

The Rose, and speckled flowre cald Sops in wine,

Fine pretie King-cups, and the yellow Bootes,

That growes by Riuers, and by shallow Brookes.

And manie thousand moe (I cannot name)Of hearbs and flowers that in gardens grow,I haue for thee; and Coneyes that be tame,Yong Rabbets, white as Swan, and blacke as Crow,Some speckled here and there with daintie spots:And more I haue two mylch and milke-white Goates.

And manie thousand moe (I cannot name)

Of hearbs and flowers that in gardens grow,

I haue for thee; and Coneyes that be tame,

Yong Rabbets, white as Swan, and blacke as Crow,

Some speckled here and there with daintie spots:

And more I haue two mylch and milke-white Goates.

All these, and more, Ile giue thee for thy loue;If these, and more, may tyce thy loue away:I haue a Pidgeon-house, in it a Doue,Which I loue more than mortall tongue can say:And last of all, Ile giue thee a little LambeTo play withall, new weaned from her Dam.

All these, and more, Ile giue thee for thy loue;

If these, and more, may tyce thy loue away:

I haue a Pidgeon-house, in it a Doue,

Which I loue more than mortall tongue can say:

And last of all, Ile giue thee a little Lambe

To play withall, new weaned from her Dam.

But if thou wilt not pittie my Complaint,My Teares, nor Vowes, nor Oathes, made to thy Beautie:What shall I doo? But languish, die, or faint,Since thou dost scorne my Teares, and my Soules Duetie:And Teares contemned, Vowes and Oaths must faile;For where Teares cannot, nothing can preuaile.

But if thou wilt not pittie my Complaint,

My Teares, nor Vowes, nor Oathes, made to thy Beautie:

What shall I doo? But languish, die, or faint,

Since thou dost scorne my Teares, and my Soules Duetie:

And Teares contemned, Vowes and Oaths must faile;

For where Teares cannot, nothing can preuaile.

Compare the loue of faire QueeneGuendolinWith mine, and thou shalt [s]ee how she doth loue thee:I loue thee for thy qualities diuine,But She doth loue another Swaine aboue thee:I loue thee for thy gifts, She for hir pleasure;I for thy Vertue, She for Beauties treasure.

Compare the loue of faire QueeneGuendolin

With mine, and thou shalt [s]ee how she doth loue thee:

I loue thee for thy qualities diuine,

But She doth loue another Swaine aboue thee:

I loue thee for thy gifts, She for hir pleasure;

I for thy Vertue, She for Beauties treasure.

And alwaies (I am sure) it cannot last,But sometime Nature will denie those dimples:In steed of Beautie (when thy Blossom's past)Thy face will be deformed, full of wrinckles:Then She that lou'd thee for thy Beauties sake,When Age drawes on, thy loue will soone forsake.

And alwaies (I am sure) it cannot last,

But sometime Nature will denie those dimples:

In steed of Beautie (when thy Blossom's past)

Thy face will be deformed, full of wrinckles:

Then She that lou'd thee for thy Beauties sake,

When Age drawes on, thy loue will soone forsake.

But I that lou'd thee for thy gifts diuine,In the December of thy Beauties waning,Will still admire (with ioy) those louely eine,That now behold me with their beauties baning:Though Ianuarie will neuer come againe,Yet Aprill yeres will come in showers of raine.

But I that lou'd thee for thy gifts diuine,

In the December of thy Beauties waning,

Will still admire (with ioy) those louely eine,

That now behold me with their beauties baning:

Though Ianuarie will neuer come againe,

Yet Aprill yeres will come in showers of raine.

When will my May come, that I may embrace thee?When will the hower be of my soules ioying?Why dost thou seeke in mirthe still to disgrace mee?Whose mirth's my health, whose griefe's my harts annoying.Thy bane my bale, thy blisse my blessednes,Thy ill my hell, thy weale my welfare is.

When will my May come, that I may embrace thee?

When will the hower be of my soules ioying?

Why dost thou seeke in mirthe still to disgrace mee?

Whose mirth's my health, whose griefe's my harts annoying.

Thy bane my bale, thy blisse my blessednes,

Thy ill my hell, thy weale my welfare is.

Thus doo I honour thee that loue thee so,And loue thee so, that so doo honour thee,Much more than anie mortall man doth know,Or can discerne by Loue or Iealozie:But if that thou disdainst my louing euer;Oh happie I, if I had loued neuer.Finis.

Thus doo I honour thee that loue thee so,

And loue thee so, that so doo honour thee,

Much more than anie mortall man doth know,

Or can discerne by Loue or Iealozie:

But if that thou disdainst my louing euer;

Oh happie I, if I had loued neuer.Finis.

Plus fellis quam mellis Amor.

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