The Shorter Poems
Page 41
So will I trauell whilest I tarrie heere,
Ne will I lodge, ne will I euer lin,
Ne when as drouping Titan draweth neere
To loose his teeme, will I take vp my Inne.
470
Ne sleepe (the harbenger of wearie wights)
Shall euer lodge vpon mine ey-lids more;
Ne shall with rest refresh my fainting sprights,
Nor failing force to former strength restore,
But I will wake and sorrow all the night
475 With Philumene, my fortune to deplore,
With Philumene, the partner of my plight.
And euer as I see the starres to fall,
And vnder ground to goe, to giue them light
Which dwell in darknes, I to minde will call,
480
How my faire Starre (that shinde on me so bright)
Fell sodainly, and faded vnder ground;
Since whose departure, day is turnd to night,
And night without a Venus starre is found.
But soone as day doth shew his deawie face,
485
And calls foorth men vnto their toylsome trade,
I will withdraw me to some darksome place,
Or some deepe caue, or solitarie shade;
There will I sigh and sorrow all day long,
And the huge burden of my cares vnlade:
490
Weep Shepheard, weep, to make my vndersong.
7 Hence foorth mine eyes shall neuer more behold
Faire thing on earth, ne feed on false delight
Of ought that framed is of mortall moulde,
Sith that my fairest flower is faded quight:
495
For all I see is vaine and transitorie,
Ne will be helde in anie stedfast plight,
But in a moment loose their grace and glorie.
And ye fond men on fortunes wheele that ride,
Or in ought vnder heauen repose assurance,
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Be it riches, beautie, or honors pride:
Be sure that they shall haue no long endurance,
But ere ye be aware will flit away;
For nought of them is yours, but th’onely vsance
Of a small time, which none ascertaine may.
505
And ye true Louers, whom desastrous chaunce
Hath farre exiled from your Ladies grace,
To mourne in sorrow and sad sufferaunce,
When ye doo heare me in that desert place
Lamenting lowde my Daphnes Elegie,
510
Helpe me to wayle my miserable case,
And when life parts, vouchsafe to close mine eye.
And ye more happie Louers, which enioy
The presence of your dearest loues delight,
When ye doo heare my sorrowfull annoy,
515
Yet pittie me in your empassiond spright,
And thinke that such mishap, as chaunst to me,
May happen vnto the most happiest wight;
For all mens states alike vnstedfast be.
And ye my fellow Shepheards, which do feed
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Your carelesse flocks on hils and open plaines,
With better fortune, than did me succeed,
Remember yet my vndeserued paines,
And when ye heare, that I am dead or slaine,
Lament my lot, and tell your fellow swaines,
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That sad Alcyon dyde in lifes disdaine.
And ye faire Damsels Shepheards dere delights,
That with your loues do their rude hearts possesse,
When as my hearse shall happen to your sightes,
Vouchsafe to deck the same with Cyparesse;
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And euer sprinckle brackish teares among,
In pitie of my vndeseru’d distresse,
The which I wretch, endured haue thus long.
And ye poore Pilgrimes, that with restlesse toyle
Wearie your selues in wandring desert wayes,
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Till that you come, where ye your vowes assoyle,
When passing by ye read these wofull layes
On my graue written, rue my Daphnes wrong,
And mourne for me that languish out my dayes:
Cease Shepheard, cease, and end thy vndersong.
540
Thus when he ended had his heauie plaint,
The heauiest plaint that euer I heard sound,
His cheekes wext pale, and sprights began to faint,
As if againe he would haue fallen to ground;
Which when I saw, I (stepping to him light)
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Amooued him out of his stonie swound,
And gan him to recomfort as I might.
But he no waie recomforted would be,
Nor suffer solace to approach him nie,
But casting vp a sdeinfull eie at me,
550
That in his traunce I would not let him lie,
Did rend his haire, and beat his blubbred face
As one disposed wilfullie to die,
That I sore grieu’d to see his wretched case.
Tho when the pang was somewhat ouerpast,
555
And the outragious passion nigh appeased,
I him desirde, sith daie was ouercast,
And darke night fast approched, to be pleased
To turne aside vnto my Cabinet,
And staie with me, till he were better eased
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Of that strong stownd, which him so sore beset.
But by no meanes I could him win thereto,
Ne longer him intreate with me to staie,
But without taking leaue, he foorth did goe
With staggring pace and dismall lookes dismay,
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As if that death he in the face had seene,
Or hellish hags had met vpon the way:
But what of him became I cannot weene.
FINIS.
TO THE RIGHT
worthy and noble Knight
Sir Walter Raleigh, Captaine of her Maiesties
Guard, Lord Wardein of the Stanneries,
and Lieutenant of the Countie of
Cornwall.
SIR, that you may see that I am not alwaies ydle as yee thinke,
though not greatly well occupied, nor altogither vndutifull, though
not precisely officious, I make you present of this simple pastorall,
vnworthie of your higher conceipt for the meanesse of the stile,
5
but agreeing with the truth in circumstance and matter. The which
I humbly beseech you to accept in part of paiment of the infinite
debt in which I acknowledge my selfe bounden vnto you, for your
singular fauours and sundrie good turnes shewed to me at my
late being in England, and with your good countenance protect
10
against the malice of euill mouthes, which are alwaies wide open
to carpe at and misconstrue my simple meaning. I pray continu-
ally for your happinesse. From my house of Kilcolman the 27.
of December. 1591.
Yours euer humbly.
Ed. Sp.
COLIN CLOVTS
come home againe.
The shepheards boy (best knowen by that name)
That after Tityrus first sung his lay,
Laies of sweet loue, without rebuke or blame,
Sate (as his custome was) vpon a day,
5
Charming his oaten pipe vnto his peres,
The shepheard swaines that did about him play:
Who all the while with greedie listfull eares,
Did stand astonisht at his curious skill,
Like hartlesse deare, dismayd with thunders sound.
10
At last when as he piped had his fill,
He rested him: and s
itting then around,
One of those groomes (a iolly groome was he,
As euer piped on an oaten reed,
And lou’d this shepheard dearest in degree,
15
Hight Hobbinol) gan thus to him areed.
Colin my liefe, my life, how great a losse
Had all the shepheards nation by thy lacke?
And I poore swaine of many greatest crosse:
That sith thy Muse first since thy turning backe
20
Was heard to sound as she was wont on hye,
Hast made vs all so blessed and so blythe.
Whilest thou wast hence, all dead in dole did lie:
The woods were heard to waile full many a sythe,
And all their birds with silence to complaine:
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The fields with faded flowers did seem to mourne,
And all their flocks from feeding to refraine:
The running waters wept for thy returne,
And all their fish with languour did lament:
But now both woods and fields, and floods reviue,
30
Sith thou art come, their cause of meriment,
That vs late dead, hast made againe aliue:
But were it not too painfull to repeat
The passed fortunes, which to thee befell
In thy late voyage, we thee would entreat,
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Now at thy leisure them to vs to tell.
To whom the shepheard gently answered thus,
Hobbin thou temptest me to that I couet:
For of good passed newly to discus,
By dubble vsurie doth twise renew it.
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And since I saw that Angels blessed eie,
Her worlds bright sun, her heauens fairest light,
My mind full of my thoughts satietie,
Doth feed on sweet contentment of that sight:
Since that same day in nought I take delight,
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Ne feeling haue in any earthly pleasure,
But in remembrance of that glorious bright,
My lifes sole blisse, my hearts eternall threasure.
Wake then my pipe, my sleepie Muse awake,
Till I haue told her praises lasting long:
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Hobbin desires, thou maist it not forsake,
Harke then ye iolly shepheards to my song.
With that they all gan throng about him neare,
With hungrie eares to heare his harmonie:
The whiles their flocks deuoyd of dangers feare,
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Did round about them feed at libertie.
One day (quoth he) I sat, (as was my trade)
Vnder the foote of Mole that mountaine hore,
Keeping my sheepe amongst the cooly shade,
Of the greene alders by the Mullaes shore:
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There a straunge shepheard chaunst to find me out,
Whether allured with my pipes delight,
Whose pleasing sound yshrilled far about,
Or thither led by chaunce, I know not right:
Whom when I asked from what place he came,
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And how he hight, himselfe he did ycleepe,
The shepheard of the Ocean by name,
And said he came far from the main-sea deepe.
He sitting me beside in that same shade,
Prouoked me to plaie some pleasant fit,
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And when he heard the musicke which I made,
He found himselfe full greatly pleasd at it:
Yet æmuling my pipe, he tooke in hond
My pipe before that æmuled of many,
And plaid theron; (for well that skill he cond)
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Himselfe as skilfull in that art as any.
He pip’d, I sung; and when he sung, I piped,
By chaunge of turnes, each making other mery,
Neither enuying other, nor enuied,
So piped we, vntill we both were weary.
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There interrupting him, a bonie swaine,
That Cuddy hight, him thus atweene bespake:
And should it not thy readie course restraine,
I would request thee Colin, for my sake,
To tell what thou didst sing, when he did plaie.
85
For well I weene it worth recounting was,
Whether it were some hymne, or morall laie,
Or carol made to praise thy loued lasse.
Nor of my loue, nor of my losse (quoth he)
I then did sing, as then occasion fell:
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For loue had me forlorne, forlorne of me,
That made me in that desart chose to dwell.
But of my riuer Bregogs loue I soong,
Which to the shiny Mulla he did beare,
And yet doth beare, and euer will, so long
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As water doth within his bancks appeare.
Of fellowship (said then that bony Boy)
Record to vs that louely lay againe:
The staie whereof, shall nought these eares annoy,
Who all that Colin makes, do couet faine.
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Heare then (quoth he) the tenor of my tale,
In sort as I it to that shepheard told:
No leasing new, nor Grandams fable stale,
But auncient truth confirm’d with credence old.
Old father Mole, (Mole hight that mountain gray
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That walls the Northside of Armulla dale)
He had a daughter fresh as floure of May,
Which gaue that name vnto that pleasant vale;
Mulla the daughter of old Mole, so hight
The Nimph, which of that water course has charge,
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That springing out of Mole, doth run downe right
To Butteuant, where spreading forth at large,
It giueth name vnto that auncient Cittie,
Which Kilnemullah cleped is of old:
Whose ragged ruines breed great ruth and pittie,
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To trauailers, which it from far behold.
Full faine she lou’d, and was belou’d full faine,
Of her owne brother riuer, Bregog hight,
So hight because of this deceitfull traine,
Which he with Mulla wrought to win delight.
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But her old sire more carefull of her good,
And meaning her much better to preferre,
Did thinke to match her with the neighbour flood,
Which Allo hight, Broad water called farre:
And wrought so well with his continuall paine,
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That he that riuer for his daughter wonne:
The dowre agreed, the day assigned plaine,
The place appointed where it should be doone.
Nath’lesse the Nymph her former liking held;
For loue will not be drawne, but must be ledde,
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And Bregog did so well her fancie weld,
That her good will he got her first to wedde.
But for her father sitting still on hie,
Did warily still watch which way she went,