Unlesse to please, it selfe it can applie:
But shouldred is, or out of doore quite shit,
As base, or blunt, unmeet for melodie. 710
For each mans worth is measured by his weed,
As harts by hornes, or asses by their eares:
Yet asses been not all whose eares exceed,
Nor yet all harts, that hornes the highest beares.
For highest lookes have not the highest beares. 715
Nor haughtie words most full of highest thoughts:
But are like bladders blowen up with wynd,
That being prickt do vanish into noughts.
Even such is all their vaunted vanitie,
Nought else but smoke, that fumeth soone away; 720
Such is their glorie that in simple eie
Seeme greatest, when their garments are most gay.
So they themselves for praise of fooles do sell,
And all their wealth for painting on a wall;
With price whereof they buy a golden bell, 725
And purchace highest rowmes in bowre and hall:
Whiles single Truth and simple Honestie
Do wander up and downe despys’d of all;
Their plaine attire such glorious gallantry
Disdaines so much, that none them in doth call.’ 730
‘Ah! Colin,’ then said Hobbinol, ‘the blame
Which thou imputest is too generall,
As if not any gentle wit of name,
Nor honest mynd might there be found at all.
For well I wot, sith I my selfe was there, 735
To wait on Lobbin (Lobbin well thou knewest)
Full many worthie ones then waiting were,
As ever else in princes court thou vewest.
Of which among you many yet remaine,
Whose names I cannot readily now ghesse: 740
Those that poore sutors papers do retaine,
And those that skill of medicine professe,
And those that do to Cynthia expound
The ledden of straunge languages in charge:
For Cynthia doth in sciences abound, 745
And gives to their professors stipends large.
Therefore unjustly thou doest wyte them all,
For that which thou mislikedst in a few.’
‘Blame is,’ quoth he, ‘more blamelesse generall,
Then that which private errours doth pursew: 750
For well I wot, that there amongst them bee
Full many persons of right worthie parts,
Both for report of spotlesse honestie,
And for profession of all learned arts,
Whose praise hereby no whit impaired is, 755
Though blame do light on those that faultie bee;
For all the rest do most-what far amis,
And yet their owne misfaring will not see:
For either they be puffed up with pride,
Or fraught with envie that their galls do swell, 760
Or they their dayes to ydlenesse divide,
Or drownded lie in pleasures wastefull well,
In which like moldwarps nousling still they lurke,
Unmyndfull of chiefe parts of manlinesse,
And do themselves, for want of other worke, 765
Vaine votaries of laesie Love professe,
Whose service high so basely they ensew,
That Cupid selfe of them ashamed is,
And mustring all his men in Venus vew,
Denies them quite for servitors of his.’ 770
‘And is Love then,’ said Corylas, ‘once knowne
In court, and his sweet lore professed there?
I weened sure he was our god alone,
And only woond in fields and forests here.’
‘Not so,’ quoth he, ‘love most aboundeth there. 775
For all the walls and windows there are writ
All full of love, and love, and love my deare,
And all their talke and studie is of it.
Ne any there doth brave or valiant seeme,
Unlesse that some gay mistresse badge he beares: 780
Ne any one himselfe doth ought esteeme,
Unlesse he swim in love up to the eares.
But they of Love and of his sacred lere,
(As it should be) all otherwise devise,
Then we poore shepheards are accustomd here, 785
And him do sue and serve all otherwise.
For with lewd speeches, and licentious deeds,
His mightie mysteries they do prophane,
And use his ydle name to other needs,
But as a complement for courting vaine. 790
So him they do not serve as they professe,
But make him serve to them for sordid uses:
Ah! my dread lord, that doest liege hearts possesse,
Avenge thy selfe on them for their abuses!
But we poore shepheards, whether rightly so, 795
Or through our rudenesse into errour led,
Do make religion how we rashly go
To serve that god, that is so greatly dred;
For him the greatest of the gods we deeme,
Borne without syre or couples of one kynd, 800
For Venus selfe doth soly couples seeme,
Both male and female through commixture joynd.
So pure and spotlesse Cupid forth she brought,
And in the Gardens of Adonis nurst:
Where growing he his owne perfection wrought, 805
And shortly was of all the gods the first.
Then got he bow and shafts of gold and lead,
In which so fell and puissant he grew,
That Jove himselfe his powre began to dread,
And taking up to heaven, him godded new. 810
From thence he shootes his arrowes every where
Into the world, at randon as he will,
On us fraile men, his wretched vassals here,
Like as himselfe us pleaseth save or spill.
So we him worship, so we him adore 815
With humble hearts to heaven uplifted hie,
That to true loves he may us evermore
Preferre, and of their grace us dignifie:
Ne is there shepheard, ne yet shepheards swaine,
What ever feeds in forest or in field, 820
That dare with evil deed or leasing vaine
Blaspheme his powre, or termes unworthie yield.’
‘Shepheard, it seemes that some celestiall rage
Of love,’ quoth Cuddy, ‘is breath’d into thy brest,
That powreth forth these oracles so sage 825
Of that high powre, wherewith thou art possest.
But never wist I till this present day,
Albe of Love I alwayes humbly deemed,
That he was such an one as thou doest say,
And so religiously to be esteemed. 830
Well may it seeme, by this thy deep insight,
That of that god the priest thou shouldest bee:
So well thou wot’st the mysterie of his might,
As if his godhead thou didst present see.’
‘Of Loves perfection perfectly to speake, 835
Or of his nature rightly to define,
Indeed,’ said Colin, ‘passeth reasons reach,
And needs his priest t’ expresse his powre divine.
For long before the world he was ybore,
And bred above in Venus bosome deare: 840
For by his powre the world was made of yore,
And all that therein wondrous doth appeare.
For how should else things so far from attone,
And so great enemies as of them bee,
Be ever drawne together into one, 845
And taught in such accordance to agree?
Through him the cold began to covet heat,
And water fire; the light to mount on hie,
And th’ heavie downe to peize; the hungry t’ eat,
And voydnesse to
seeke full satietie. 850
So, being former foes, they wexed friends,
And gan by litle learne to love each other:
So being knit, they brought forth other kynds
Out of the fruitfull wombe of their great mother.
Then first gan heaven out of darknesse dread 855
For to appeare, and brought forth chearfull day:
Next gan the earth to shew her naked head,
Out of deep waters which her drownd alway.
And shortly after, everie living wight
Crept forth like wormes out of her slimie nature, 860
Soone as on them the suns life giving light
Had powred kindly heat and formall feature:
Thenceforth they gan each one his like to love,
And like himselfe desire for to beget:
The lyon chose his mate, the turtle dove 865
Her deare, the dolphin his owne dolphinet;
But man, that had the sparke of reasons might,
More then the rest to rule his passion,
Chose for his love the fairest in his sight,
Like as himselfe was fairest by creation. 870
For beautie is the bayt which with delight
Doth man allure for to enlarge his kynd,
Beautie, the burning lamp of heavens light,
Darting her beames into each feeble mynd:
Against whose powre, nor god nor man can fynd 875
Defence, ne ward the daunger of the wound,
But, being hurt, seeke to be medicynd
Of her that first did stir that mortall stownd.
Then do they cry and call to Love apace,
With praiers lowd importuning the skie, 880
Whence he them heares, and when he list shew grace,
Does graunt them grace that otherwise would die.
So Love is lord of all the world by right,
And rules the creatures by his powrfull saw;
All being made the vassalls of his might, 885
Through secret sence which therto doth them draw.
Thus ought all lovers of their lord to deeme,
And with chaste heart to honor him alway:
But who so else doth otherwise esteeme,
Are outlawes, and his lore do disobay. 890
For their desire is base, and doth not merit
The name of love, but of disloyall lust:
Ne mongst true lovers they shall place inherit,
But as exuls out of his court be thrust.’
So having said, Melissa spake at will: 895
‘Colin, thou now full deeply hast divynd
Of love and beautie, and with wondrous skill
Hast Cupid selfe depainted in his kynd.
To thee are all true lovers greatly bound,
That doest their cause so mightily defend: 900
But most, all wemen are thy debtors found,
That doest their bountie still so much commend.’
‘That ill,’ said Hobbinol, ‘they him requite,
For having loved ever one most deare:
He is repayd with scorne and foule despite, 905
That yrkes each gentle heart which it doth heare.’
‘Indeed,’ said Lucid, ‘I have often heard
Faire Rosalind of divers fowly blamed,
For being to that swaine too cruell hard,
That her bright glorie else hath much defamed. 910
But who can tell what cause had that faire mayd
To use him so that used her so well?
Or who with blame can justly her upbrayd,
For loving not? for who can love compell?
And sooth to say, it is foolhardie thing, 915
Rashly to wyten creatures so divine,
For demigods they be, and first did spring
From heaven, though graft in frailnesse feminine.
And well I wote that oft I heard it spoken,
How one that fairest Helene did revile, 920
Through judgement of the gods, to been ywroken,
Lost both his eyes, and so remaynd long while,
Till he recanted had his wicked rimes,
And made amends to her with treble praise:
Beware therefore, ye groomes, I read betimes, 925
How rashly blame of Rosalind ye raise.’
‘Ah! shepheards,’ then said Colin, ‘ye ne weet
How great a guilt upon your heads ye draw,
To make so bold a doome, with words unmeet,
Of thing celestiall which ye never saw. 930
For she is not like as the other crew
Of shepheards daughters which emongst you bee,
But of divine regard and heavenly hew,
Excelling all that ever ye did see.
Not then to her, that scorned thing so base, 935
But to my selfe the blame, that lookt so hie:
So hie her thoughts as she her selfe have place,
And loath each lowly thing with loftie eie.
Yet so much grace let her vouchsafe to grant
To simple swaine, sith her I may not love, 940
Yet that I may her honour paravant,
And praise her worth, though far my wit above.
Such grace shall be some guerdon for the griefe
And long affliction which I have endured:
Such grace sometimes shall give me some reliefe, 945
And ease of paine which cannot be recured.
And ye, my fellow shepheards, which do see
And heare the languours of my too long dying,
Unto the world for ever witnesse bee,
That hers I die, nought to the world denying 950
This simple trophe of her great conquest.’
So having ended, he from ground did rise,
And after him uprose eke all the rest:
All loth to part, but that the glooming skies
Warnd them to draw their bleating flocks to rest. 955
Fowre Hymnes
An Hymne in Honour of Love
CONTENTS
An Hymne in Honour of Love
An Hymne in Honour of Beautie
An Hymne of Heavenly Love
An Hymne of Heavenly Beautie
The original title page
TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE AND MOST VERTUOUS LADIES, THE LADIE MARGARET COUNTESSE OF CUMBERLAND, AND THE LADIE MARIE COUNTESSE OF WARWICKE
HAVING, in the greener times of my youth, composed these former two hymnes in the praise of love and beautie, and finding that the same too much pleased those of like age and disposition, which, being too vehemently caried with that kind of affection, do rather sucke out poyson to their strong passion, then hony to their honest delight, I was moved by the one of you two most excellent Ladies, to call in the same. But being unable so to doe, by reason that many copies thereof were formerly scattered abroad, I resolved at least to amend, and by way of retractation to reforme them, making in stead of those two hymnes of earthly or naturall love and beautie, two others of heavenly and celestiall. The which I doe dedicate joyntly unto you two honorable sisters, as to the most excellent and rare ornaments of all true love and beautie, both in the one and the other kinde, humbly beseeching you to vouchsafe the patronage of them, and to accept this my humble service, in lieu of the great graces and honourable favours which ye dayly shew unto me, untill such time as I may by better meanes yeeld you some more notable testimonie of my thankfull mind and dutifull devotion.
And even so I pray for your happinesse.
Greenwich, this first of September, 1596.
Your Honors most bounden ever
in all humble service,
Ed. Sp.
An Hymne in Honour of Love
LOVE, that long since hast to thy mighty powre
Perforce subdude my poore captived hart,
And raging now therein with restlesse stowre,
Doest tyrannize in everie weaker part,
Faine would I seeke to ease my bitter smart 5<
br />
By any service I might do to thee,
Or ought that else might to thee pleasing bee.
And now t’ asswage the force of this new flame,
And make thee more propitious in my need,
I meane to sing the praises of thy name, 10
And thy victorious conquests to areed;
By which thou madest many harts to bleed
Of mighty victors, with wyde wounds embrewed,
And by thy cruell darts to thee subdewed.
Onely I feare my wits, enfeebled late 15
Through the sharpe sorrowes which thou hast me bred,
Should faint, and words should faile me to relate
The wondrous triumphs of thy great godhed.
But, if thou wouldst vouchsafe to overspred
Me with the shadow of thy gentle wing, 20
I should enabled be thy actes to sing.
Come then, O come, thou mightie God of Love,
Out of thy silver bowres and secret blisse,
Where thou doest sit in Venus lap above,
Bathing thy wings in her ambrosiall kisse, 25
That sweeter farre then any nectar is;
Come softly, and my feeble breast inspire
With gentle furie, kindled of thy fire.
And ye, sweet Muses, which have often proved
The piercing points of his avengefull darts, 30
And ye, faire nimphs, which oftentimes have loved
The cruell worker of your kindly smarts,
Prepare your selves, and open wide your harts,
For to receive the triumph of your glorie,
That made you merie oft, when ye were sorie. 35
And ye, faire blossomes of youths wanton breed,
Which in the conquests of your beautie bost,
Wherewith your lovers feeble eyes you feed,
But sterve their harts, that needeth nourture most,
Prepare your selves to march amongst his host, 40
And all the way this sacred hymne do sing,
Made in the honor of your soveraigne king.
GREAT God of might, that reignest in the mynd,
And all the bodie to thy hest doest frame,
Victor of gods, subduer of mankynd, 45
That doest the lions and fell tigers tame,
Making their cruell rage thy scornefull game,
And in their roring taking great delight,
Who can expresse the glorie of thy might?
Or who alive can perfectly declare 50
The wondrous cradle of thine infancie,
When thy great mother Venus first thee bare,
Begot of Plentie and of Penurie,
Though elder then thine owne nativitie;
Complete Works of Edmund Spenser Page 156
