The Shorter Poems

by Edmund Spenser

Ah pensiue boy pursue that braue conceipt,

  In thy sweet Eglantine of Meriflure,

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  Lift vp thy notes vnto their wonted height,

  That may thy Muse and mates to mirth allure.

  There eke is Palin worthie of great praise,

  Albe he enuie at my rustick quill:

  And there is pleasing Alcon, could he raise

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  His tunes from laies to matter of more skill.

  And there is old Palemon free from spight,

  Whose carefull pipe may make the hearer rew:

  Yet he himselfe may rewed be more right,

  That sung so long vntill quite hoarse he grew.

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  And there is Alabaster throughly taught,

  In all this skill, though knowen yet to few,

  Yet were he knowne to Cynthia as he ought,

  His Eliseïs would be redde anew.

  Who liues that can match that heroick song,

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  Which he hath of that mightie Princesse made?

  O dreaded Dread, do not thy selfe that wrong,

  To let thy fame lie so in hidden shade:

  But call it forth, O call him forth to thee,

  To end thy glorie which he hath begun:

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  That when he finisht hath as it should be,

  No brauer Poeme can be vnder Sun.

  Nor Po nor Tyburs swans so much renowned,

  Nor all the brood of Greece so highly praised,

  Can match that Muse when it with bayes is crowned,

  415

  And to the pitch of her perfection raised.

  And there is a new shepheard late vp sprong,

  The which doth all afore him far surpasse:

  Appearing well in that well tuned song,

  Which late he sung vnto a scornfull lasse.

  420

  Yet doth his trembling Muse but lowly flie,

  As daring not too rashly mount on hight,

  And doth her tender plumes as yet but trie,

  In loues soft laies and looser thoughts delight.

  Then rouze thy feathers quickly Daniell,

  425

  And to what course thou please thy selfe aduance:

  But most me seemes, thy accent will excell,

  In Tragick plaints and passionate mischance.

  And there that shepheard of the Ocean is,

  That spends his wit in loues consuming smart:

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  Full sweetly tempred is that Muse of his

  That can empierce a Princes mightie hart.

  There also is (ah no, he is not now)

  But since I said he is, he quite is gone,

  Amyntas quite is gone and lies full low,

  435

  Hauing his Amaryllis left to mone.

  Helpe, O ye shepheards helpe ye all in this,

  Helpe Amaryllis this her losse to mourne:

  Her losse is yours, your losse Amyntas is,

  Amyntas floure of shepheards pride forlorne:

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  He whilest he liued was the noblest swaine,

  That euer piped in an oaten quill:

  Both did he other, which could pipe, maintaine,

  And eke could pipe himselfe with passing skill.

  And there though last not least is Aetion,

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  A gentler shepheard may no where be found:

  Whose Muse full of high thoughts inuention,

  Doth like himselfe Heroically sound.

  All these, and many others mo remaine,

  Now after Astrofell is dead and gone:

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  But while as Astrofell did liue and raine,

  Amongst all these was none his Paragone.

  All these do florish in their sundry kynd,

  And do their Cynthia immortall make:

  Yet found I lyking in her royall mynd,

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  Not for my skill, but for that shepheards sake.

  Then spake a louely lasse, hight Lucida,

  Shepheard, enough of shepheards thou hast told,

  Which fauour thee, and honour Cynthia:

  But of so many Nymphs which she doth hold

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  In her retinew, thou hast nothing sayd;

  That seems, with none of them thou fauor foundest,

  Or art ingratefull to each gentle mayd,

  That none of all their due deserts resoundest.

  Ah far be it (quoth Colin Clout) fro me,

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  That I of gentle Mayds should ill deserue:

  For that my selfe I do professe to be

  Vassall to one, whom all my dayes I serue;

  The beame of beautie sparkled from aboue,

  The floure of vertue and pure chastitie,

  470 The blossome of sweet ioy and perfect loue,

  The pearle of peerlesse grace and modestie:

  To her my thoughts I daily dedicate,

  To her my heart I nightly martyrize:

  To her my loue I lowly do prostrate,

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  To her my life I wholly sacrifice:

  My thought, my heart, my loue, my life is shee,

  And I hers euer onely, euer one:

  One euer I all vowed hers to bee,

  One euer I, and others neuer none.

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  Then thus Melissa said; Thrise happie Mayd,

  Whom thou doest so enforce to deifie:

  That woods, and hills, and valleyes thou hast made

  Her name to eccho vnto heauen hie.

  But say, who else vouchsafed thee of grace?

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  They all (quoth he) me graced goodly well,

  That all I praise, but in the highest place,

  Vrania, sister vnto Astrofell,

  In whose braue mynd as in a golden cofer,

  All heauenly gifts and riches locked are:

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  More rich then pearles of Ynde, or gold of Opher,

  And in her sex more wonderfull and rare.

  Ne lesse praise worthie I Theana read,

  Whose goodly beames though they be ouer dight

  With mourning stole of carefull wydowhead,

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  Yet through that darksome vale do glister bright;

  She is the well of bountie and braue mynd,

  Excelling most in glorie and great light:

  She is the ornament of womankind,

  And Courts chief garlond with all vertues dight.

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  Therefore great Cynthia her in chiefest grace

  Doth hold, and next vnto her selfe aduance,

  Well worthie of so honourable place,

  For her great worth and noble gouernance.

  Ne lesse praise worthie is her sister deare,

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  Faire Marian, the Muses onely darling:

  Whose beautie shyneth as the morning cleare,

  With siluer deaw vpon the roses pearling.

  Ne lesse praise worthie is Mansilia,

  Best knowne by bearing vp great Cynthiaes traine:

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  That same is she to whom Daphnaida

  Vpon her neeces death I did complaine.

  She is the paterne of true womanhead,

  And onely mirrhor of feminitie:

  Worthie next after Cynthia to tread,

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  As she is next her in nobilitie.

  Ne lesse praise worthie Galathea seemes,

  Then best of all that honourable crew,

  Faire Galathea with bright shining beames,

  Inflaming feeble eyes that her do view.

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  She there then waited vpon Cynthia,

  Yet there is not her won, but here with vs

  About the borders of our rich Coshma,

  Now made of Maa the Nymph delitious.

  Ne lesse praisworthie faire Neœra is,

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  Neœra ours, not theirs, though there she be,<
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  For of the famous Shure, the Nymph she is,

  For high desert, aduaunst to that degree.

  She is the blosome of grace and curtesie,

  Adorned with all honourable parts:

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  She is the braunch of true nobilitie,

  Belou’d of high and low with faithfull harts.

  Ne lesse praisworthie Stella do I read,

  Though nought my praises of her needed arre,

  Whom verse of noblest shepheard lately dead

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  Hath prais’d and rais’d aboue each other starre.

  Ne lesse praisworthie are the sisters three,

  The honor of the noble familie:

  Of which I meanest boast my selfe to be,

  And most that vnto them I am so nie.

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  Phyllis, Charillis, and sweet Amaryllis,

  Phillis the faire, is eldest of the three:

  The next to her, is bountifull Charillis.

  But th’youngest is the highest in degree.

  Phyllis the floure of rare perfection,

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  Faire spreading forth her leaues with fresh delight,

  That with their beauties amorous reflexion,

  Bereaue of sence each rash beholders sight.

  But sweet Charillis is the Paragone

  Of peerlesse price, and ornament of praise,

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  Admyr’d of all, yet enuied of none,

  Through the myld temperance of her goodly raies.

  Thrise happie do I hold thee noble swaine,

  The which art of so rich a spoile possest,

  And it embracing deare without disdaine,

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  Hast sole possession in so chaste a brest:

  Of all the shepheards daughters which there bee,

  And yet there be the fairest vnder skie,

  Or that elsewhere I euer yet did see,

  A fairer Nymph yet neuer saw mine eie:

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  She is the pride and primrose of the rest,

  Made by the maker selfe to be admired:

  And like a goodly beacon high addrest,

  That is with sparks of heauenle beautie fired.

  But Amaryllis, whether fortunate,

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  Or else vnfortunate may I aread,

  That freed is from Cupids yoke by fate,

  Since which she doth new bands aduenture dread.

  Shepheard what euer thou hast heard to be

  In this or that praysd diuersly apart,

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  In her thou maist them all assembled see,

  And seald vp in the threasure of her hart.

  Ne thee lesse worthie gentle Flauia,

  For thy chaste life and vertue I esteeme:

  Ne thee lesse worthie curteous Candida,

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  For thy true loue and loyaltie I deeme.

  Besides yet many mo that Cynthia serue,

  Right noble Nymphs, and high to be commended:

  But if I all should praise as they deserue,

  This sun would faile me ere I halfe had ended.

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  Therefore in closure of a thankfull mynd,

  I deeme it best to hold eternally,

  Their bounteous deeds and noble fauours shrynd,

  Then by discourse them to indignifie.

  So hauing said, Aglaura him bespake:

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  Colin, well worthie were those goodly fauours

  Bestowd on thee, that so of them doest make,

  And them requitest with thy thankfull labours.

  But of great Cynthiaes goodnesse and high grace,

  Finish the storie which thou hast begunne.

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  More eath (quoth he) it is in such a case

  How to begin, then know how to haue donne.

  For euerie gift and euerie goodly meed,

  Which she on me bestowd, demaunds a day;

  And euerie day, in which she did a deed,

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  Demaunds a yeare it duly to display.

  Her words were like a streame of honny fleeting,

  The which doth softly trickle from the hiue:

  Hable to melt the hearers heart vnweeting,

  And eke to make the dead againe aliue.

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  Her deeds were like great clusters of ripe grapes,

  Which load the bunches of the fruitfull vine:

  Offring to fall into each mouth that gapes,

  And fill the same with store of timely wine.

  Her lookes were like beames of the morning Sun,

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  Forth looking through the windowes of the East:

  When first the fleecie cattell haue begun

  Vpon the perled grasse to make their feast.

  Her thoughts are like the fume of Franckincence,

  Which from a golden Censer forth doth rise:

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  And throwing forth sweet odours mounts fro thence

  In rolling globes vp to the vauted skies.

  There she beholds with high aspiring thought,

  The cradle of her owne creation:

  Emongst the seats of Angels heauenly wrought,

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  Much like an Angell in all forme and fashion.

  Colin (said Cuddy then) thou hast forgot

  Thy selfe, me seemes, too much, to mount so hie:

  Such loftie flight, base shepheard seemeth not,

  From flocks and fields, to Angels and to skie.

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  True (answered he) but her great excellence,

  Lifts me aboue the measure of my might:

  That being fild with furious insolence,

  I feele my selfe like one yrapt in spright.

  For when I thinke of her, as oft I ought,

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  Then want I words to speake it fitly forth:

  And when I speake of her what I haue thought,

  I cannot thinke according to her worth.

  Yet will I thinke of her, yet will I speake,

  So long as life my limbs doth hold together,

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  And when as death these vitall bands shall breake,

  Her name recorded I will leaue for euer.

  Her name in euery tree I will endosse,

  That as the trees do grow, her name may grow:

  And in the ground each where will it engrosse,

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  And fill with stones, that all men may it know.

  The speaking woods and murmuring waters fall,

  Her name Ile teach in knowen termes to frame:

  And eke my lambs when for their dams they call,

  Ile teach to call for Cynthia by name.

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  And long while after I am dead and rotten:

  Amongst the shepheards daughters dancing rownd,

  My layes made of her shall not be forgotten,

  But sung by them with flowry gyrlonds crownd.

  And ye, who so ye be, that shall surviue:

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  When as ye heare her memory renewed,

  Be witnesse of her bountie here aliue,

  Which she to Colin her poore shepheard shewed.