Basilius, because Zelmane so would haue it, vsed the artificiall day of torches, to lighten the sportes their inuentions could minister. And because many of the shepheardes were but newlie come, hee did in a gentle manner chastise their negligence with making them (for that night) the Torchbearers; and the others, he willed with all freedome of speech and behauiour, to keepe their accustomed method. Which while they prepared to do, Dametas, who much disdayned (since his late authority) all his old companions, brought his seruant Dorus in good acquaintance and allowance of them; and himself stood like a directer ouer them, with nodding, gaping, winking, or stamping shewing how he did like, or mislike those things he did not vnderstand. The first sports the shepheards shewed, wear ful of such leapes and gambols, as being accorded to the pipe (which they bare in their mouthes, euen as they daunced (made a right picture of their chiefe God Pan, and his companions the Satyres. Then would they cast away their Pipes; and holding hand in hand daunce as it were in a braule, by the only cadence of their voices, which they would vse in singing some short coplets, whereto the one halfe beginning, the other halfe should answere as the one halfe saying.
We loue, and haue our loues rewarded
The others would answere.
We loue, and are no whit regarded,
The first againe.
We finde moste sweete affections snare.
With like tune it should be as in a quire sent backe againe,
That sweete, but sower dispairefull care.
A third time likewise thus:
Who can dispaire, whom hope doth beare?
The answere:
And who can hope that feeles despaire?
Then all ioyning their voyces, and dauncing a faster measure, they would conclude with some such wordes:
As without breath, no pipe doth mone:
No musicke kindlye without loue.
Hauing thus varied both their songs and daunces into diuers sorts of inuentions; their last sport was one of them to prouoke an other to a more large expressing of his passions: which Thyrsis (accounted one of the best singers amongst them) hauing marked in Dorus dauncing no lesse good grace & hansome behauiour, then extreame tokens of a troubled mind; began first with his Pipe, and then with his voice, thus to chalenge Dorus, and was by him answered in the vnder-written sorte.
Thyrsis and Dorus.
Thyrsis.
Come Dorus, come, let songs thy sorrowes signifie
And if for want of vse thy minde ashamed is,
That very shame with loues high title dignifie.
No stile is held for base, where loue well named is:
Each eare suckes vp the words, a true loue scattereth,
And plaine speach oft, then quaint phrase better framed is.
Dorus.
Nightingales seldome sing, the Pie still chattereth
The wood cries most, before it throughly kindled be,
Deadly wounds inward bleed, each sleight sore mattereth.
Hardly they heard, which by good hunters singled be.
Shallow brookes murmure most, deep silent slide away,
Nor true loue loues his loues with others mingled be.
Thyrsis.
If thou wilt not be seene, thy face goe hide away,
Be none of vs, or els maintaine our fashion:
Who frownes at others feastes, doth better bide away.
But if thou hast a loue, in that loues passion,
I challenge thee by shew of her perfection,
Which of vs two deserueth most compassion.
Dorus.
Thy challenge great, but greater my protection:
Sing then, and see (for now thou hast inflamed me)
Thy health too meane a match for my infection.
No though the heau’ns for high attempts haue blamed me,
Yet high is my attempt. O Muse historifie
Her praise, whose praise to learne your skill hath framed me.
Thyrsis.
Muse holde your peace: but thou my God Pan glorifie
My Kalas giftes: who with all good gifts filled.
Thy pipe, ô Pan, shall help, though I sing sorilie
A heape of sweetes she is, where nothing spilled is;
Who though she be no Bee, yet full of honie is:
A Lillie field, with plowe of Rose which tilled is.
Milde as a Lambe, more daintie then a Conie is:
Her eyes my eyesight is, her conuersation
More gladde to me, then to a miser monie is.
What coye account she makes of estimation?
How nice to touch? how all her speeches peized be?
A Nimph thus turnde, but mended in translation.
Dorus.
Such Kala is: but ah my fancies raised be
In one, whose name to name were high presumption,
Since vertues all, to make her title, pleased be
O happie Gods, which by inward assumption
Enioy her soule, in bodies faire possession,
And keepe it ioynde, fearing your seates consumption.
How oft with rayne of teares skies make confession,
Their dwellers rapt with sight of her perfection
From heau’nly throne to her heau’n vse disgression?
Of best things then what world can yeeld confection
To liken her? decke yours with your comparison:
She is herselfe, of best things the collection.
Thyrsis.
How oft my dolefull Sire cried to me, tarrie sonne
When first he spied my loue? how oft he said to me,
Thou art no souldier fitt for Cupids garrison?
My sonne, keepe this, that my long toyle hath laide to me:
Loue well thine owne: me thinkes woolles, whitenes passeth all:
I neuer found long loue such wealth hath paide to me.
This wind he spent: but when my Kala glasseth all
My sight in her faire limmes I then assure my selfe,
Not rotten sheepe, but high crownes she surpasseth all.
Can I be poore, that her golde haire procure my selfe?
Want I white wooll, whose eyes her white skinne garnished?
Till I get her, shall I to keepe enure my selfe?
Dorus.
How oft, when reason saw, loue of her harnised
With armour of my hart he cried, O vanitie
To set a pearle in steele so meanly varnished?
Looke to thy selfe reach not beyond humanitie.
Her minde, beames, state, farre from thy weake wings banished:
And loue which louer hurts is inhumanitie
Thus Reason said: but she came, Reason vanished;
Her eyes so maistering me, that such obiection
Seem’d but to spoyle the foode of thoughts long famished,
Her peereles height my minde to high erection
Drawes vp; and if hope fayling end liues pleasure,
Of fayrer death how can I make election?
Thyrsis.
Once my well waiting eyes espied my treasure,
With sleeues turnde vp, loose hair, and brest enlarged,
Her fathers corne (mouing her fair limmes) measure.
O cried I, of so meane worke be discharged:
Measure my case, how by thy beauties filling
With seed of woes my hart brimme full is charged.
Thy father bids thee saue, and chides for spilling.
Saue then my soule, spill not my thoughts well heaped,
No louely praise was euer got by killing.
These bolde words she did beare, this fruite I reaped,
That she, whose looke alone might make me blessed,
Did smile on me and then away she leaped.
Dorus.
Once, O sweete once, I saw with dread oppressed
Her whom I dread: so that with prostrate lying
Her length the earth in Loues chiefe clothing dressed.
I saw that riches fall, and fell a crying;
Let not dead earth enioy so deare a couer,
But deck therwith my soule for your sake dying.
Lay all your feare vpon your fearefull louer:
Shine eyes on me, that both our liues be guarded;
So I your sight, you shall your selues recouer.
I cried and was with open rayes rewarded:
But straight they fledd, summond by cruell honor,
Honor, the cause desart is not regarded.
Thyrsis.
This mayde, thus made for ioyes, ô Pan bemone her,
That without loue she spends her yeares of loue:
So faire a field would well become an owner.
And if enchantment can a hard hart moue,
Teach me what circle may acquaint her sprite,
Affections charmes in my behalfe to proue.
The circle is my (round about her) sight,
The power I will inuoke dwelles in her eyes:
My charme should be she haunt me day and night.
Dorus.
Farre other case, ô Muse, my sorrow tries,
Bent to such one in whome my selfe must say,
Nothing can mend that point that in her lies.
What circle then in so rare force beares sway?
Whose sprite all sprites can foile, raise damne, or saue:
No charme holdes hir but well possesse she may,
Possesse she doth, and makes my soule her slaue:
My eyes the bandes, my thoughts the fatall knot.
No thrall like them that inward bondage haue.
Thyrsis.
Kala at length conclude my lingring lotte:
Disdaine me not, although I be not faire.
Who is an heir of many hundreth sheep
Doth beawties keep which neuer sunne can burne,
Nor stormes doo turne: fairnes serues oft to wealth:
Yet all my health I place in your good will.
Which if you will (ô doo) bestow on me,
Such as you see, such still you shall me finde,
Constant and kind, my sheep your foode shall breed,
Their wooll your weede, I will you musique yeeld
In flowrie field, and as the day begins
With twentie ginnes we will the small birds take,
And pastimes make, as nature things hath made.
But when in shade we meete of mirtle bowes,
Then loue allowes, our pleasures to enrich,
The thought of which doth passe all worldlie pelfe.
Dorus.
Lady your selfe whome neither name I dare,
And titles are but spots to such a worth,
Heare plaints come forth from dungeon of my mind.
The noblest kinde reiects not others woes.
I haue no shewes of wealth: my wealth is you,
My beauties hewe your beames, my health your deeds;
My minde for weeds your vertues liuerie weares.
My foode is teares; my tunes wamenting yeeld:
Dispaire my fielde; the flowers spirits warrs:
My day new cares; my ginnes my daily sight,
In which doe light small birds of thoughts orethrowne:
My pastimes none: time passeth on my fall.
Nature made all but me of dolours made
I find no shade, but where my Sunne doth burne:
No place to turne; without, within it fries:
Nor helpe by life or death who liuing dyes.
Thyrsis.
But if my Kala thus my sute denyes,
Which so much reason beares:
Let crowes pick out mine eyes which too much sawe.
If shee still hate loues lawe,
My earthy mould, doth melt in watrye teares.
Dorus.
My earthy mould doth melt in watrye teares,
And they againe resolue,
To aire of sighes, sighes to the hartes fire turne
Which doth to ashes burne.
Thus doth my life within it selfe dissolue.
Thyrsis.
Thus doth my life within it selfe dissolue
That I growe like the beaste,
Which beares the bytt a weaker force doth guide,
Yet patient must abide.
Such weight it hath which once is full possest.
Dorus.
Such weight it hath which once is full possest
That I become a vision,
Which hath in others head his only being
And liues in fancie seing.
O wretched state of man in selfe diuision!
Thyrsis.
O wretched state of man in selfe diuision
O well thou saiest! a feeling declaration
Thy toong hath made of Cupids deepe incision.
But now hoarse voyce, doth faile this occupation,
And others long to tell their loues condicion.
Of singing thou hast got the reputation.
Dorus.
Of singing thou hast got the reputation
Good Thyrsis mine, I yeld to thy abilitie;
My hart doth seek an other estimation.
But ah my Muse, I would thou hadst facilitie
To worke my goddesse, so by thy inuention,
On me to cast those eyes where shine nobilitie:
Seene and vnknowne, hearde, but without attention.
Dorus did so well in answering Thyrsis, that euery one desired to heare him sing something alone. Seing therfore a Lute lying vnder the Princesse Pamelas feete glad to haue such an errand to approch her, he came, but came with a dismaied grace, all his bloud stirred betwixt feare and desire. And playing vpon it with such sweetenes, as euery bodie wondered to see such skill in a shepeheard, he sang vnto it with a sorrowing voice these Elegiake verses:
Dorus.
— Fortune, Nature, Loue, long haue contended about me,
Which should most miseries, cast on a worme that I am.
— Fortune thus gan say; misery and misfortune is all one,
And of misfortune, fortune hath only the gift.
— With strong foes on land, on seas with contrary tempests
Still doo I crosse this wretch, what so he taketh in hand.
— Tush, tush, said nature, this is all but a trifle, a mans selfe
Giues happs or mishapps, eu’n as he ordreth his hearte.
— But so his humor I frame, in a mould of choller adusted,
That the delights of life shall be to him dolorouse.
— Loue smiled, and thus said; Want ioynd to desire is vnhappy.
But if he nought do desire, what can Heraclitus aile?
— None but I, workes by desire: by desire haue I kindled in his soule
Infernall agonies vnto a bewtye diuine,
— Where thou poore nature left’st all thy due glory, to fortune
Her vertue is soueraine, fortune a vassal of hers.
— Nature abasht went back: fortune blusht: yet she replide thus:
And eu’n in that loue, shall I reserue him a spite.
— Thus, thus, alas! wofull in nature, vnhappy by fortune,
But most wretched I am, now loue awakes my desire.
Dorus when he had soong this, hauing had all the while a free beholding of the faire Pamela (who could well haue spared such honor, and defended the assault he gaue vnto hir face with bringing a faire staine of shamefastnes vnto it) let fall his armes, and remained so fastened in his thoughts, as if Pamela had graffed him there to growe in continuall imagination. But Zelmane espying it, and fearing he should too much forget himselfe, she came to him, and tooke out of his hand the Lute, and laying fast hold of Philocleas face with her eyes, she soong these Sapphikes speaking as it were to hir owne hope.
If mine eyes can speake to doo harty errande,
Or mine eyes language she doo hap to iudge of,
So that eyes message be of her receaued,
Hope we do liue yet. But if eyes faile then, when I most doo need them,
Or if eyes language be not vnto her knowne,
So that eyes message doo returne reiected,
Hope we doo both dye. Yet dying, and dead, doo we sing her honour;
So become our tombes monuments of her praise;
So becomes our losse the triumph of her gaine;
Hers be the glory. If the spheares senselesse doo yet hold a musique,
If the Swannes sweet voice be not heard, but at death,
If the mute timber when it hath the life lost,
Yeldeth a Lutes tune: Are then humane mindes priuiledg’d so meanly
As that hatefull death can abridge them of powre
With the vowe of truth to record to all worlds
That we be her spoiles? Thus not ending, ends the due praise of her praise:
Fleshly vaile consumes; but a soule hath his life,
Which is held in loue; loue it is, that hath ioynd
Life to this our soule. But if eyes can speake to doo harty errand,
Or mine eyes language she doo hap to iudge of,
So that eyes message be of her receaued,
Hope we do liue yet.
Great was the pleasure of Basilius, and greater would haue bene Gynæcias, but that she found too well it was intended to her daughter, As for Philoclea she was swetely rauished withall. When Dorus desiring in a secret maner to speake of their cases, as perchance the parties intended might take some light of it, making lowe reuerence to Zelmane, began this prouoking song in hexameter verse vnto her. Wherevnto she soone finding whither his words were directed (in like tune and verse) answered as foloweth:
Dorus. Zelmane.
Dorus.
Lady reserud by the heau’ns to do pastors company honnor,
Ioyning your sweete voice to the rurall muse of a deserte,
Here you fully do finde this strange operation of loue,
How to the woods loue runnes as well as rydes to the Pallace,
Neither he beares reuerence to a Prince nor pittie to begger,
But (like a point in midst of a circle) is still of a neernesse,
All to a lesson he draw’s, nether hills nor caues can auoide him.
Zelmane.
Worthy shepeheard by my song to my selfe all fauor is happned,
That to the sacred Muse my anoyes somewhat be reuealed,
Sacred Muse, who in one contaynes what nine do in all them.
But ô happy be you, which safe from fyry reflection
Of Phoebus violence in shade of sweet Cyparissus,
Or pleasant mirtell, may teach th’vnfortunate Echo
In these woods to resounde the renowmed name of a goddesse.
Happy be you that may to the saint, your onely Idea,
(Although simply atyrde) your manly affection vtter.
Happy be those mishapps which iustly proportion holding
Giue right sound to the eares, and enter aright to the iudgement,
But wretched be the soules, which vaild in a contrary subiect:
How much more we do loue, so the lesse our loues be beleeued.
What skill salueth a soare of a wrong infirmity iudged?
What can iustice auaile, to a man that tells not his owne case?
You though feares do abash, in you still possible hopes be:
Nature against we do seeme to rebell, seeme fooles in a vaine sute.
But so vnheard, condemn’d, kept thence we do seeke to abide in,
Selfe-lost in wandring, banished that place we doe come from,
What meane is there, alas, we can hope our losse to recouer?
What place is there left, we may hope our woes to recomfort?
Vnto the heau’ns? our wings be too short: earth thinks vs a burden.
Aire we do still with sighes encrease, to the fire? we do want none.
And yet his outward heate our teares would quench, but an inward
Fire no liquor can coole: Neptunes realme would not auaile vs.
Happy shepheard, with thanks to the Gods, still thinke to be thankfull,
That to thy aduauncement their wisdomes haue thee abased.
Dorus.
Vnto the Gods with a thanckfull heart all thankes I do render,
That to my aduauncement their wisdomes haue me abased.
But yet, alas! O but yet alas! our happs be but hard happs,
Which must frame contempt to the fittest purchase of honnour.
Well may a Pastor plaine, but alas his plaints be not esteem’de
Silly shepheards poore pype, when his harsh sound testifi’s anguish,
Into the faire looker on, pastime, not passion, enters.
And to the woods or brookes, who do make such dreery recitall
What be the pangs they beare, and whence those pangs be deriued,
Pleasd to receaue that name by rebounding answere of Echo,
May hope therby to ease their inward horrible anguish,
When trees daunce to the pype, and swift streames stay by the musicke,
Or when an Echo begins vnmou’d to sing them a loue song.
Say then what vantage do we get, by the trade of a Pastor?
(Since no estates be so base, but loue vouchsafeth his arrow,
Since no refuge doth serue from woundes we do carry about vs,
Since outward pleasures be but halting helpes to decayd soules)
Saue that dayly we may discerne what fire we do burne in.
Farre more happy be you, whose greatnes gets a free accesse,
Whose faire bodily gifts are fram’d most louely to each ey.
Vertue you haue, of vertue you haue left proofe to the whole world.
And vertue is gratefull with bewty and richnes adorned,
Neither doubt you awhit, time will your passion vtter.
Hardly remains fyer hid, where skill is bent to the hiding,
But in a minde that would his flames should not be repressed,
Nature worketh enough with a small help for the reuealing.
Giue therefore to the Muse great praise in whose very likenes
You doo approch to the fruite your onely desir’s be to gather.
Zelmane.
First shall fertill grounds not yeeld increase of a good seed:
First the riuers shall ceasse to repay their fludds to the Occean:
First may a trusty Greyhounde transforme himselfe to a Tigre:
First shall vertue be vice, and bewty be counted a blemishe,
Ere that I leaue with song of praise her praise to solemnize,
Her praise, whence to the world all praise hath his only beginning:
But yet well I doo finde each man most wise in his owne case.
None can speake of a wound with skill, if he haue not a wound felt.
Great to thee my state seemes, thy state is blest by my iudgement:
And yet neither of vs great or blest deemeth his owne selfe.
For yet (weigh this alas!) great is not great to the greater.
What iudge you doth a hillocke shew, by the lofty Olympus?
Such my minute greatnes, doth seeme compar’d to the greatest.
When Cedars to the ground fall downe by the weight of an emmott,
Or when a rich rubies iust price be the worth of a walnut,
Or to the Sun for wonders seeme small sparks of a candle:
Then by my high Cedar, rich Ruby, and only shining Sunne,
Vertue, richesse, beawties of mine shall great be reputed.
Oh no, no, worthy shepeheard, worth can neuer enter a title,
Where proofes iustly do teach, thus matcht, such worth to be nought worth,
Let not a puppet abuse thy sprite, Kings Crownes do not helpe them
From the cruell headache, nor shooes of golde doo the gowt heale,
And preciouse couches full oft are shak’t with a feauer.
If then a boddily euill in a boddily gloze be not hidden,
Shall such morning deaws be an ease to the heate of a loues fire?
Dorus.
O glittring miseries of man, if this be the fortune
Of those fortune lulls? so small rest rests in a kingdome?
What maruaile tho a Prince transforme himselfe to a Pastor?
Come from marble bowres many times the gay harbor of anguish,
Vnto a silly caban, though weake, yet stronger against woes.
Now by thy words I begin, most famous Lady, to gather
Comfort into my soule I do finde, I do find what a blessing
Is chaunced to my life, that from such muddy abundance
Of carking agonies (to states which still be adherent)
Desteny keepes me aloofe, for if all this state to thy vertue
Ioyn’d, by thy beauty adorn’d be no meanes these greefes to abolish:
If neither by that helpe, thou canst clime vp to thy fancie,
Nor yet fancy so drest do receiue more plausible hearing:
Then do I thinke in deed, that better it is to be priuate
In sorrows torments, then, tyed to the pompes of a pallace,
Nurse inwarde maladyes, which haue not scope to be breath’d out.
But perforce disgest, all bitter ioyces of horror
In silence, from a mans owne selfe with company robbed.
Better yet do I liue, that though by my thoughts I be plunged
Into my liues bondage, yet may disburden a passion
(Opprest with ruinouse conceites) by the helpe of an outcrye:
Not limited to a whispringe note, the Lament of a Courtier.
But sometimes to the woods somtimes to the heau’n do decyphire
With bolde clamor vnheard, vnmarckt, what I seeke what I suffer:
And when I meete these trees, in the earths faire liuory clothed,
Ease I do feele (such ease as falls to one wholy diseased)
For that I finde in them parte of my state represented.
Lawrell shew’s what I seeke, by the Mirre is show’d how I seeke it,
Oliue paintes me the peace that I must aspire to by the conquest:
Mirtle makes my request, my request is crown’d with a willowe?
Cyprus promiseth helpe, but a helpe where comes no recomforte
Sweete Iuniper, saith this, thoh I burne, yet I burne in a sweete fire.
Evve doth make me thinke what kind of bow the boy holdeth
Which shootes strongly with out any noyse and deadly without smarte.
Firr trees great and greene, fixt on a hye hill but a barrein,
Lyke to my noble thoughtes, still new, well plac’d, to me fruteles.
Figge that yeeldes most pleasante fru’te, his shaddow is hurtefull
Thus be her giftes most sweet, thus more danger to be neere her,
Now in a palme when I marke, how he doth rise vnder a burden,
And may I not (say I then) gett vp though griefs be so weightie?
Pine is a maste to a shippe, to my shippe shall hope for a maste serue,
Pine is hye, hope is as hie, sharpe leau’d, sharpe yet be my hopes budds.
Elme embraste by a vine, embracing fancy reuiueth
Popler changeth his hew from a rising sunne to a setting:
Thus to my sonne do I yeeld, such lookes her beames do aforde me
Olde aged oke cutt downe, of newe works serues to the building:
So my desires by my feare, cutt downe, be the frames of her honour.
Ashe makes speares which shieldes do resist, her force no repulse takes.
Palmes do reioyce to be ioynd by the match of a male to a female,
And shall sensiue things be so sencelesse as to resist sence?
Thus be my thoughts disperst, thus thinking nurseth a thinking,
Thus both trees and each thing ells, be the bookes of a fancy.
But to the Cedar Queene of woods when I lifte my beteard eyes,
Then do I shape to my selfe that forme which raign’s so with in me,
And thinke ther she do dwell & heare what plants I do vtter:
When that noble toppe doth nodd, I beleeue she salutes me;
When by the winde it maketh a noyse, I do thinke she doth answer.
Then kneling to the ground, oft thus do I speake to that Image:
Onely Iuell, O only Iuell, which only deseruest
That mens harts be thy seate and endlesse fame be thy seruant,
O descende for a while, from this greate height to behold me,
But nought els do, behold (else is nought worth the beholding)
Saue what a worke, by thy selfe is wrought: & since I am altred
Thus by thy worke, disdaine not that which is by thy selfe done.
In meane caues of treasure abides, to an hostry a king comes.
And so behinde foule clowdes full oft faire starres do ly hidden.
Zelmane.
Hardy shephearde, such as thy meritts, such may be her insight
Iustely to graunt thee rewarde, such enuie I beare to thy fortune.
But to my selfe what wish can I make for a salue to my sorrowes,
Whom both nature seemes to debarr from meanes to be helped,
And if a meane were found, fortune th’whole course of it hinders.
This plag’de how can I frame to my soare any hope of amendemente?
Whence may I show to my minde any light of possible escape?
Bownd & bownd by so noble bandes, as loth to be vnbownd,
Iaylor I am to my selfe, prison & prisoner to myne owne selfe.
Yet be my hopes thus plast, here fix’d liues all my recomforte,
That that deare Dyamond, where wisdome holdeth a sure seate,
Whose force had such force so to transforme, nay to reforme me,
Will at length perceaue these flames by her beames to be kindled,
And will pitty the wound festred so strangely within me.
O be it so, graunte such an euent, O Gods, that euent giue.
And for a sure sacrifice I do dayly oblation offer
Of mine owne harte, where thoughts be the temple, sighte is a aultar.
But ceasse worthy shepheard, nowe ceasse we to weery the hearers
With monefull melodies, for enough our greefes be reuealed,
If by the parties ment our meanings rightly be marked,
And sorrow’s do require some respitt vnto the sences.
What exclaming praises Basilius gaue to this Ecloge any man may ghesse, that knowes loue is better then a paire of spectacles to make euery thing seeme greater which is sene through it: and then is neuer tongue tied where fitt commendation (whereof womankinde is so likerouse) is offered vnto it. But before any other came in to supplie the place, Zelmane hauing heard some of the shepheards by chaunce name Strephon and Klaius, supposing thereby they had bene present, was desirous both to heare them for the fame of their frindly loue, and to know them, for their kindenesse towardes her best loued frinde. Much grieued was Basilius, that any desire of his mistresse should bee vnsatisfied, and therefore to represent them vnto hir (aswell as in their absence it might be) he commaunded on Lamon, who had at large sett down their country pastimes and first loue to Vrania to sing the whole discourse which he did in this manner.
A shepheards tale no height of stile desires
To raise in words what in effect is lowe:
A plaining songe plaine-singing voice requires,
For warbling notes from inward chearing flow.
I then, whose burd’ned brest but thus aspires
Of shepheards two the seely case to show,
Nede not the stately Muses helpe inuoke
For creeping rimes, which often sighings choke. But you, ô you, that thinke not teares to deare
To spend for harms, although they touch you not:
And deigne to deeme your neighbors mischefe neare,
Although they be of meaner parents gott:
You I inuite with easie eares to heare
The poore-clad truth of loues wrong-ordred lot.
Who may be glad, be glad you be not such:
Who share in woe, weygh others haue as much. Ther was (ô seldome blessed word of was!)
Apaire of frends, or rather one cal’d two,
Train’d in the life which on short-bitten grasse
In shine or storme must sett the doubted shoe:
He, that the other in some years did passe,
And in those gifts that years distribute doe,
Was Klaius cald, (ah Klaius, wofull wight!)
The later borne, yet too soone, Strephon hight. Epeirus high, was honest Klaius nest,
To Strephon Æoles land first breathing lent:
But East & West were ioin’d by frendships hest.
As Strephons eare & heart to Klaius bent:
So Klaius soule did in his Strephon rest.
Still both their flocks flocking togither went,
As if they would of owners humour be,
And eke their pipes did well, as frends agree. Klaius for skill of hearb’s & shepheards art
Among the wisest was accounted wise,
Yet not so wise, as of vnstained harte:
Strephon was yonge, yet markt with humble eies
How elder rul’d their flocks, & cur’d their smart,
So that the graue did not his words despise.
Both free of minde, both did clear-dealing loue,
And both had skill in verse their voice to moue. Their chearfull minds, till pois’ned was their cheare,
The honest sports of earthy lodging proue;
Now for a clod-like hare in fourm they peere,
Now bolt & cudgill squirrels leape do moue.
Now the ambitiouse Larke with mirror cleare
They catch, while he (foole!) to himself makes loue:
And now at keels they trie a harmles chaunce,
And now their curr they teach to fetch & daunce. When mery May first early calls the morne,
With mery maids a mayeng they do go,
Then do they pull from sharpe & niggard thorne
The plenteous sweets, (can sweets so sharply grow?)
Then some grene gowns are by the lasses worne
In chastest plaies, till home they walke a rowe,
While daunce about the may-pole is begun,
When, if nede were, they could at quintain run: While thus they ran a low, but leaueld race,
While thus they liu’d, (this was indede a life)
With nature pleas’d, content with present case.
Free of proud feares, braue begg’ry, smiling strife
Of clime-fall Court, the enuy-hatching place:
While those restles desires in great men rise
To visite so low folkes did much disdaine,
This while, though poore, they in themselues did raigne. One day (ô day, that shin’de to make them darke!)
While they did ward sun-beames with shady bay,
And Klaius taking for his yongling carke,
(Lest greedy eies to them might challenge lay)
Busy with oker did their shoulders marke,
(His marke a Piller was deuoid of stay,
As bragging that free of all passions mone
Well might he others beare, but leane to none) Strephon with leauy twiggs of Laurell tree
A garland made on temples for to weare,
For he then chosen was the dignitie
Of village-Lord that whitsontide to beare:
And full, poore foole of boyish brauery
With triumphs shews would shew he nought did feare.
But fore-accounting oft makes builders misse,
They found, they felt, they had no lease of blisse. For ere that either had his purpose done,
Behold (beholding well it doth deserue)
They saw a maid who thitherward did runne,
To catch hir sparrow which from hir did swerue,
As she a black-silke cap on him begunne
To sett, for foile of his milke-white to serue.
She chirping ran, he peeping flew away,
Till hard by them both he & she did stay. Well for to see they kept themselues vnsene,
And saw this fairest maid of fairer minde,
By, fortune meare, in Nature borne a Queene,
How well apaid she was hir birde to finde:
How tenderly hir tender hands betweene
In iuory cage she did the micher binde:
How rosy moist’ned lipps about his beake
Mouing, she seem’d at once to kisse, & speake. Chastned but thus, & thus his lesson tought
The happy wretch she putt into hir breast,
Which to their eies the bowles of Venus brought,
For they seem’d made euen of skie-mettall best,
And that the bias of hir bloud was wrought.
Betwixt them two the peeper tooke his nest,
Where snugging well he well appear’d content
So to haue done amisse, so to be shent. This done, but done with captiue-killing grace,
Each motion seeming shott from beauties bow,
With length laid downe she deckt the lonely place.
Proud grew the grasse that vnder hir did growe,
The trees spred out their armes to shade hir face,
But she on elbow lean’d with sigh’s did show
No grasse, no trees, nor yet hir sparrow might
To long-perplexed minde breed long delight. She troubled was (alas that it mought be!)
With tedious brawlings of her parents deare,
Who would haue hir in will & worde agree
To wedd Antaxius their neighbour neare.
A heardman rich of much account was he
In whome no euill did raigne, nor good appeare.
In some such one she lik’d not his desire,
Faine would be free, but dreadeth parents ire. Kindly, sweete soule, she did vnkindnes take
That bagged baggage of a misers mudd,
Should price of hir, as in a market, make.
But golde can guild a rotten piece of wood,
To yeeld she found hir noble heart did ake:
To striue she fear’d how it with vertue stoode.
This doubting clouds ore-casting heau’nly braine,
At length in rowes of Kisse-cheeke teares they raine. Cupid the wagg, that lately conquer’d had
Wise Counsellors, stout Captaines puissant Kings,
And ti’de them fast to leade his triumph badd,
Glutted with them now plaies with meanest things.
So oft in feasts with costly chaunges cladd
To crammed mawes a spratt new Stomake brings.
So Lords with sport of Stagg & Hearon full
Sometimes we vse small birds from nests do pull. So now for pray these shepheards two he tooke
Whose mettall stiff he knew he could not bende
With hear-say, pictures, or a window looke,
With one good dawnce, or letter finely pend,
That were in Court a well proportion’d hooke,
Where piercing witts do quickly apprehend,
Their sences rude plaine obiects only moue,
And so must see great cause before they loue. Therfore Loue arm’d in hir now takes the fielde,
Making hir beames his brauery & might:
Hir hands which pierc’d the soules seau’n-double shield,
Were now his darts leauing his wonted fight.
Braue crest to him hir scorn-gold haire did yeeld,
His compleat harneis was hir purest white.
But fearing lest all white might seeme too good,
In cheeks & lipps the Tyran threatens bloud. Besides this force within hir eies he kept
A fire, to burne the prisoners he gaines,
Whose boiling heat encreased as she wept:
For eu’n in forge colde water fire maintaines.
Thus proud & fierce vnto the hearts he stept
Of them poore soules: & cutting Reasons raines,
Made them his owne before they had it wist.
But if they had, could shephookes this resist? Klaius streight felt, & groned at the blowe,
And cal’d, now wounded, purpose to his aide:
Strephon, fond boy, delighted did not knowe,
That it was Loue that shin’de in shining maid:
But lickrous, Poison’d, faine to her would goe,
If him new-learned manners had not staid.
For then Vrania homeward did arise,
Leauing in paine their wel-fed hungry eies. She went, they staid; or rightly for to say,
She staid in them, they went in thought with hyr:
Klaius in deede would faine haue puld a way
This mote from out his eye, this inward burre,
And now, proud Rebell gan for to gainsay
The lesson which but late he learn’d too furre:
Meaning with absence to refresh the thought
To which hir presence such a feauer brought. Strephon did leape with ioy & iolitie,
Thinking it iust more therein to delight
Then in good Dog, faire field, or shading tree.
So haue I sene trim bookes in veluet dight
With golden leaues, & painted babery
Of seely boies please vnacquainted sight:
But when the rod began to play his part,
Faine would, but could not fly from golden smart. He quickly learn’d Vrania was her name,
And streight for failing, grau’d it in his heart:
He knew hir haunt, & haunted in the same,
And taught his shepe hir shepe in food to thwart.
Which soone as it did batefull question frame,
He might on knees confesse his faulty part,
And yeeld himselfe vnto hir punishment,
While nought but game, the selfe-hurt wanton ment. Nay eu’n vnto hir home he oft would go,
Where bold and hurtles many play he tries,
Her parents liking well it should be so,
For simple goodnes shined in his eyes.
There did he make hir laugh in spite of woe,
So as good thoughts of him in all arise,
While into none doubt of his loue did sinke,
For not himselfe to be in loue did thinke. But glad Desire, his late embosom’d guest,
Yet but a babe, with milke of Sight he nurst:
Desire the more he suckt, more sought the brest,
Like dropsy folke still drinke to be a thyrst.
Till one faire eau’n an howr ere Sun did rest,
Who then in Lions caue did enter fyrst,
By neighbors prai’d she went abroad therby.
At Barly brake hir swete swift foot to trie. Neuer the earth on his round shoulders bare
A maid train’d vp from high or low degree,
That in her doings better could compare
Mirth with respect, few words with curtesy,
A careles comelines with comely care,
Self-gard with mildnes, Sport with Maiesty:
Which made hir yeeld to deck this shepheards band,
And still, beleue me, Strephon was at hand. A field they goe, where many lookers be,
And thou seke-sorow Klaius them among:
In dede thou said’st it was thy frend to see
Strephon, whose absence seem’d vnto thee long,
While most with hir he lesse did kepe with thee.
No, no, it was in spite of wisdomes song
Which absence wisht: loue plai’d a victors part:
The heau’n-loue lodestone drew thy iron hart. Then couples three be streight allotted there,
They of both ends the middle two doe flie,
The two that in mid place, Hell called were,
Must striue with waiting foot, and watching eye
To catch of them, and them to hell to beare,
That they, aswell as they, Hell may supplie:
Like some which seeke to salue their blotted name
With others blott, till all do tast of shame. There may you see, soone as the middle two
Do coupled towards either couple make,
They false and fearfull do their hands vndoe,
Brother his brother, frend doth frend forsake,
Heeding himselfe, cares not how fellow doe,
But of a straunger mutuall help doth take:
As periur’d cowards in aduersity
With sight of feare from frends to fremb’d do flie. These sports shepheards deuiz’d such faults to show.
Geron, though olde yet gamesome, kept one ende
With Cosma, for whose loue Pas past in woe.
Faire Nous with Pas the lott to hell did sende:
Pas thought it hell, while he was Cosma fro.
At other end Vran did Strephon lend
Her happy-making hand, of whome one looke
From Nous and Cosma all their beauty tooke. The play began: Pas durst not Cosma chace,
But did entend next bout with her to meete,
So he with Nous to Geron turn’d their race,
With whome to ioyne fast ran Vrania sweet:
But light-legd Pas had gott the middle space.
Geron straue hard, but aged were his feet,
And therfore finding force now faint to be,
He thought gray haires afforded subtletie. And so when Pas hand-reached him to take,
The fox on knees and elbowes tombled downe:
Pas could not stay, but ouer him did rake,
And crown’d the earth with his first touching crowne:
His heels grow’n proud did seme at heau’n to shake.
But Nous that slipt from Pas, did catch the clowne.
So laughing all, yet Pas to ease some dell
Geron with Vran were condemn’d to hell. Cosma this while to Strephon safely came,
And all to second barly-brake are bent:
The two in hell did toward Cosma frame,
Who should to Pas, but they would her preuent.
Pas mad with fall, and madder with the shame,
Most mad with beames which he thought Cosma sent,
With such mad haste he did to Cosma goe,
That to hir breast he gaue a noysome blowe. She quick, and proud, and who did Pas despise,
Vp with hir fist, and tooke him on the face,
Another time, quoth she, become more wise.
Thus Pas did kisse hir hand with little grace,
And each way luckles, yet in humble guise
Did hold hir fast for feare of more disgrace,
While Strephon might with preatie Nous haue met,
But all this while another course he fet. For as Vrania after Cosma ran,
He rauished with sight how gracefully
She mou’d hir lims, and drew the aged man,
Left Nous to coast the loued beauty ny.
Nous cri’de, and chafd, but he no other can.
Till Vran seing Pas to Cosma fly,
And Strephon single, turned after him.
Strephon so chas’d did seme in milke to swimme. He ran, but ran with eye ore shoulder cast,
More marking hir, then how himselfe did goe,
Like Numid Lions by the hunters chas’d,
Though they do fly, yet backwardly do glowe
With proud aspect, disdaining greater hast.
What rage in them, that loue in him did show.
But God giues them instinct the man to shun,
And he by law of Barly-brake must run. But as his heate with running did augment,
Much more his sight encreast his hote desire:
So is in her the best of Nature spent,
The aire hir swete race mou’d doth blow the fire.
Hir feet be Purseuants from Cupid sent,
With whose fine stepps all loues and ioyes conspire.
The hidden beauties seem’d in waite to lye,
To downe proud hearts that would not willing dye. Thus, fast he fled from her he follow’d sore,
Still shunning Nous to lengthen pleasing race,
Till that he spied old Geron could no more,
Then did he slack his loue-enstructed pace.
So that Vrán, whose arme old Geron bore,
Laid hold on him with most lay-holding grace.
So caught, him seem’d he caught of ioyes the bell,
And thought it heau’n so to be drawn to hell. To hell he goes, and Nous with him must dwell.
Nous sware it was no right; for his default
Who would be caught, that she should go to hell:
But so she must. And now the third assault
Of Barly-brake among the six befell.
Pas Cosma matcht, yet angry with his fault,
The other end Geron with Vrán garde.
I thinke you thinke Strephon bent thitherward. Nous counseld Strephon Geron to pursue,
For he was olde, and easly would be cought:
But he drew hir as loue his fancy drew,
And so to take the gemme Vrania sought.
While Geron olde came safe to Cosma true,
Though him to meete at all she sturred nought.
For Pas, whither it were for feare, or loue,
Mou’d not himselfe, nor suffred hir to moue. So they three did togither idly stay,
While deare Vrán, whose course was Pas to meet,
(He staying thus) was faine abroad to stray
With larger round, to shun the folowing feet.
Strephon, whose eies on hir back-parts did play,
With loue drawne on, so fast with pace vnmeet
Drew dainty Nous, that she not able so
To runne, brake from his hands, and let him goe. He single thus, hop’d soone with hir to be,
Who nothing earthly, but of fire and aire,
Though with soft leggs, did run as fast as he.
He thrise reacht, thrise deceiu’d, when hir to beare
He hopes, with dainty turns she doth him flee.
So on the down’s we see, neere Wilton faire,
A hast’ned Hare from greedy Grayhound goe,
And past all hope his chapps to frustrate so. But this straunge race more straunge conceits did yeeld:
Who victor seem’d, was to his ruine brought:
Who seem’d orethrown was mistresse of the field:
She fled, and tooke: he folow’d, and was cought.
So haue I heard to pierce pursuing shield
By Parents train’d the Tartars wilde are tought,
With shafts shott out from their back-turned bow.
But, ah! hir darts did farre more depely goe. As Venus bird the white, swift, louely Doue
(O happy Doue that art compar’d to hir!)
Doth on hir wings hir vtmost swiftnes proue,
Finding the gripe of Falcon fierce not furr:
So did Vran, the narr the swifter moue,
(Yet beauty still as fast as she did sturre)
Till with long race deare she was breathles brought,
And then the Phoenix feared to be cought. Among the rest that there did take delight
To see the sportes of double-shining day,
And did the tribute of their wondring sight
To Natures heir, the faire Vrania, pay,
I tolde you Klaius was the haples wight
Who earnest found what they accounted play.
He did not there doe homage of his eies,
But on his eies his heart did sacrifise. With gazing looks, short sighs, vnsettled feet,
He stood, but turn’d, as Girosol, to Sun:
His fancies still did hir in half-way meet,
His soule did fly as she was seen to run.
In sum proud Boreas neuer ruled fleet
(Who Neptunes webb on daungers distaff spun)
With greater powr then she did make them wend
Each way, as she, that ages praise, did bend. Till spieng well she welnigh weary was,
And surely taught by his loue-open eye,
His eye, that eu’n did marke hir troden grasse,
That she would faine the catch of Strephon flie,
Giuing his reason pasport for to passe
Whither it would, so it would let him dy,
He that before shund hir to shun such harmes,
Now runnes, and takes hir in his clipping armes. For with pretence from Strephon hir to garde,
He met hir full, but full of warefulnes,
With inbow’d bosome well for hir prepar’d,
When Strephon cursing his owne backwardnes
Came to hir back, and so with double warde
Emprison hir, who both them did possesse
As heart-bound slaues: and happy then embrace
Vertues proofe, fortunes victor, beauties place. Hir race did not hir beauties beames augment,
For they were euer in the best degree,
But yet a setting foorth it some way lent:
As rubies lustre, when they rubbed be.
The dainty dew on face and body went
As on sweet flowrs when mornings drops we see.
Her breath then short seem’d loth from home to pas,
Which more it mou’d, the more it sweeter was. Happy, ô happy! if they so might bide,
To see hir eies, with how true humblenes
They looked down to triumph ouer pride:
With how sweet sawes she blam’d their sawcines:
To feele the panting heart, which through hir syde
Did beate their hands, which durst so neere to presse.
To see, to feele, to heare, to tast, to know
More then, besides hir, all the earth could show. But neuer did Medeas golden weed
On Creons child his poison sooner throw,
Then those delights through all their sinews breed
A creeping serpentlike of mortall woe.
Till she brake from their armes (although indeed
Going from them, from them she could not go)
And fare-welling the flocke did homeward wend,
And so that euen the barly-brake did end. It ended, but the others woe began,
Began at least to be conceiu’d as woe,
For then wise Klaius found no absence can
Help him, who can no more hir sight foregoe.
He found mans vertue is but part of man,
And part must folowe where whole man doth goe.
He found that Reasons self now reasons found
To fasten knotts, which fancy first had bound. So doth he yeeld, so takes he on his yoke,
Not knowing who did draw with him therin;
Strephon, poore youth, because he saw no smoke
Did not conceiue what fire he had within.
But after this to greater rage it broke,
Till of his life it did full conquest win,
First killing mirth, then banishing all rest,
Filling his eies with teares, with sighs his brest. Then sports grew paines, all talking tediouse,
On thoughts he feeds, his lookes their figure chaunge,
The day seemes long, but night is odious,
No sleeps, but dream’s, no dream’s, but visions straunge,
Till finding still his euill encreasing thus,
One day he with his flock abroad did raunge:
And comming where he hop’d to be alone,
Thus on a hillock set, he made his mone. Alas! what weights are these that lode my heart!
I am as dull as winter-sterued sheep,
Tir’de as a iade in ouerloden carte,
Yet thoughts do flie, though I can scarcely creep.
All visions seeme, at euery bush I start:
Drowsy am I, and yet can rarely slepe.
Sure I bewitched am, it is euen that:
Late neere a crosse I met an ougly Cat. For, but by charms, how fall these things on me,
That from those eies where heau’nly apples bene,
Those eies, which nothing like themselues can see,
Of faire Vrania, fairer then a greene,
Proudly bedeckt in Aprills liuory,
A shot vnheard gaue me a wound vnseene?
He was inuisible that hurt me so,
And none vnuisible, but Spirites, can goe. When I see her, my sinewes shake for feare,
And yet, deare soule, I know she hurteth none:
Amid my flock with woe my voice I teare,
And, but bewitch’d, who to his flock would mone?
Her chery lipps, milke hands, and golden haire
I still do see, though I be still alone.
Now make me thinke that there is not a fende,
Who hid in Angels shape my life would ende. The sportes wherin I wonted to do well,
Come she, and sweet the aire with open brest,
Then so I faile, when most I would do well,
That at me so amaz’d my fellowes iest:
Sometimes to her newes of my selfe to tell
I go about, but then is all my best
Wry words, and stam’ring, or els doltish dombe,
Say then, can this but of enchantment come? Nay each thing is bewitcht to know my case:
The Nightingales for woe their songs refraine:
In riuer as I look’d my pining face,
As pin’d a face as mine I saw againe.
The courteous mountaines grieu’d at my disgrace
Their snowy haire teare of in melting paine.
And now the dropping trees do wepe for me,
And now faire euenings blush my shame to see. But you my pipe, whilome my chief delight,
Till straunge delight, delight to nothing ware;
And you my flock, care of my carefull sight,
While I was I, & so had cause to care;
And thou my dogg, whose truth & valiant might
Made wolues (not inward wolues) my ewes to spare;
Go you not from your master in his woe:
Let it suffise that he himselfe forgoe. For though like waxe, this magique makes me waste,
Or like a lambe whose dam away is fet,
(Stolne from her yoong by theeues vnchoosing hast)
He treble beas for helpe, but none can get:
Though thus, and worse, though now I am at last,
Of all the games that here ere now I met:
Do you remember still you once were mine,
Till my eies had their curse from blessed eine. Be you with me while I vnheard do cry,
While I do score my losses on the winde,
While I in heart my will write ere I die.
In which by will, my will and wits I binde:
Still to be hers, about her aye to flie,
As this same sprite about my fancies blinde,
Doth daily haunt: but so that mine become
As much more louing, as lesse combersome. Alas! a cloud hath ouer cast mine eies:
And yet I see her shine amid the cloud.
Alas! of ghostes I heare the gastly cries:
Yet there, me seemes, I heare her singing loud.
This song she singes in most commaunding wise:
Come shepheards boy, let now thy heart be bowd
To make it selfe to my least looke a slaue:
Leaue sheepe leaue all, I will no piecing haue. I will, I will, alas! alas! I will:
Wilt thou haue more? more haue, if more I be.
Away ragg’d rams, care I what murraine kill?
Out shreaking pipe made of some witched tree.
Go bawling curre, thy hungry maw go fill,
On yond foule flocke belonging not to me.
With that his dogge he henst his flocke he curst:
With that (yet kissed first) his pipe he burst. This said, this done, he rase euen tir’d with rest,
With heart as carefull, as with carelesse grace,
With shrinking legges, but with a swelling brest,
With eyes which threatned they would drowne his face,
Fearing the worst, not knowing what were best,
And giuing to his sight a wandring race,
He saw behind a bush where Klaius sate:
His well know’ne friend, but yet his vnknowne mate, Klaius the wretch, who lately yelden was
To beare the bondes which Time nor wit could breake,
(With blushing soule at sight of iudgements glasse,
While guilty thought accus’d his Reason weake)
This morne alone to lonely walke did passe,
With in himselfe of hir deare selfe to speake.
Till Strephons planning voice him nearer drew,
Whereby his words his self-like cause he knew. For hearing him so oft with wordes of woe
Vrania name, whose force he knew so well,
He quickly knew what witchcraft gaue the blow
Which made his Strephon think himselfe in hell.
Which when he did in perfect image show,
To his owne witt, thought vpon thought did swell,
Breeding huge stormes with in his inward parte,
Which thus breath’d out with earthquake of his hart.
As Lamon would haue proceded, Basilius knowing, by the wasting of the torches that the night also was farre wasted, and withall remembring Zelmanes hurt, asked hir whither she thought it not better to reserue the complaint of Klaius till an other day. Which she, perceiuing the song had alreadie worne out much time, and not knowing when Lamon would ende, being euen now stepping ouer to a new matter, though much delighted with what was spoken, willingly agreed vnto. And so of all sides they went to recommend themselues to the elder brother of death.
The end of the first Booke.