Whilest in sweet dreame to him presented

bee

Immortall beauties, which no eye may see.
But he them sees, and takes exceeding pleasure
Of their divine aspects, appearing plaine,
And kindling love in him above all measure;
Sweet love, still joyous, never feeling paine:
For what so goodly forme he there doth see,
He may enjoy from jealous rancor free
There liveth he in everlasting blis,
Sweet spirit never fearing more to die:
Ne dreading harme from any foes of his,
Ne fearing salvage beasts more crueltie.
Whilest we here, wretches, waile his private

lack,

And with vaine vowes do often call him back. But live thou there, still happie, happie spirit, And give us leave thee here thus to lament!

563

Not thee that doest thy heavens joy inheri
But our owne selves that here in dole are drent
Mourning, in others, our own miseries.
Thus do we weep and waile, and wear our
eies,

WHICH when she ended had, another swaine
Of gentle wit and daintie sweet device,
Whom Astrophel full deare did entertaine,
Whilest here he liv'd, and held in passing price,
Hight Thestylis, began his mournfull tourne:
And made the Muses in his song to mourne.

And after him full many other moe,
Gan dight themselves t' expresse their inward
As everie one in order lov'd him best,

woe,

With dolefull layes unto the time addrest :
The which I here in order will rehearse,
As fittest flowres to deck his mournfull hearse.

THE MOURNING MUSE OF THESTYLIS.

(This and the succeeding Poem are supposed to have been written by Lodowick Bryskett.)

COME forth, ye Nymphes, come forth, forsake | Fame and renowme to us for glorious martiall

your watry bowres, Forsake your mossy caves, and help me to la- But now thy ireful bemes have chill'd our [ment: deeds. Help me to tune my dolefull notes to gurgling harts with cold;

sound

Of Liffies tumbling streames: Come, let salt Farre off to others now thy favour honour [teares of ours Thou hast estrang'd thy self, and deignest not [our land: Mix with his waters fresh. O come, let one

consent

Joyne us to mourne with wailfull plaints the For hadst thou not bene wroth, or that time [deadly wound And high disdaine doth cause thee shun our breeds, [clime, (I feare ;)

Which fatall clap hath made, decreed by higher

neare at hand,

The dreery day in which they have from us Eke Zelands piteous plaints, and Hollands [yrent Thou wouldst have heard the cry that woful [England made;

powres;

The noblest plant that might from East to

toren heare,

Mourne, mourn, great Philips fall, mourn we Thou shouldst have seen the trees refuse to Would haply have appeas'd thy divine angry [mynd:

West be found.

his wofull end,

Whom spitefull Death hath pluct untimely And wailing to let fall the honor of their head;
[from the tree,
Whiles yet his yeares in flowre did promise And birds in mournfull tunes lamenting in
yeeld their shade,

worthie frute.

Ah dreadful Mars, why didst thou not thy Up from his tombe the mightie Corineus rose.
[knight defend? their kinde.
What wrathfull mood, what fault of ours, hath Who, cursing oft the fates that this mishap had

moved thee

bred,

Of such a shining light to leave us destitute? His hoary locks he tare, calling the heavens
Thou with benigne aspect sometime did t us The Thames was heard to roare, the Seyne
[unkinde.
behold,
Thou hast in Britons valour tane delight of The Schald, the Danow selfe, this great mis-
and eke the Mose,
And with thy presence oft vouchsaft to attri- With torment and with grief: their fountains
[chance did rue,

bute

[old,

pure and cleere

564 [veines, which were past. Were troubled, and with swelling flouds de- Which languisheth being shred by culter as it clar'd their woes. The Muses comfortles, the Nymphs with A trembling chilly cold ran throgh their [and neere, With eies brimfull of teares to see his fatall paled hue,

howre,

rare.

[declare, The Silvan Gods likewise, came running farre [enviously And all with teares bedeawd, and eyes cast Whose blustring sighes at first their sorrow did [to crie. Next, murmuring ensude; at last they not forbeare up on hie; help, O help, ye Gods, they ghastly gan [hide his face O chaunge the cruell fate of this so rare a Plaine outcries, all against the heav'ns that [out his age. Depriv'd us of a spright so perfect and so wight, And graunt that natures course may measure The beasts their foode forsooke, and, trembling The sun his lightsom beames did shrowd, and [so fright. For griefe, whereby the earth feard night [turn'd their streames eternally: fearfully, Each sought his cave or den, this cry did them Out from amid the waves, by storme then The mountaines eachwhere shooke, the rivers [Ocean hoare, And th' aire gan winterlike to rage and fret [fierie gleames stirr'd to rage, This crie did cause to rise th' old father Who grave with eld, and full of majestie in And grisly ghosts by night were seene, and [beast afeard: [teares and plaints, Amid the clouds with claps of thunder, that did seeme sight, Spake in this wise. Refrain (quoth he) your Cease these, your idle words, make vaine To rent the skies, and made both man and [fixed stint The birds of ill presage this lucklesse chance, [made man deeme foretold, requests no more. No humble speech, nor mone, may move the Of destinie or death: Such is His will-that By dernfull noise; and dogs with howling [with store Some mischief was at hand: for such they do paints

apace:

esteeme

The earth with colours fresh; the darkest skies Ah! that thou hadst but heard his lovely Of starry lights: And though your teares a As tokens of mishap, and so have done of old. [will prevaile.' [ing cheere, Stella plaine hart of flint Might tender make, yet nought herein they Whiles thus he said, the noble knight, who Her greevous losse, or seene her heavie mourn[dint While she, with woe opprest, her sorrowes did gan to feele

unfold.

[shoulders twaine; Her haire hung lose, neglect, about ber His vitall force to faint, and death with cruell Of direfull dart his mortall bodie to assaile, [foyson downe time so deere, With eyes lift up to heav'n, and courage And from those two bright starres to him somefranke as steele, With cheerfull face, where valour lively was Her heart sent drops of pearle, which fell in with paine, But humble mynd, he said: 'O Lord, if ought Twixt lilly and the rose. She wroong her hands [t' advaunce;

this fraile

[exprest,

[spent

frowne

away,

[pheere

And earthly carcasse have thy service sought And piteously gan say: My true and faithfull
If my desire have bene still to relieve th' Alas, and woe is me! why should my fortune
opprest;
[stay:
If justice to maintaine that valour I have On me thus frowardly to rob me of my joy?
Which thou me gav'st; or if henceforth IWhat cruell envious hand hath taken the
[if thou think best;
might advaunce
Thy name, thy truth, then spare me (Lord) And with thee my content, my comfort, and my
[day
Forbeare these unripe yeares. But if thy will Thou onelie wast the ease of trouble and annoy,
[set; When they did me assaile; in thee my hopes
did rest.
If that prefixed time be come which thou hast
Through pure and fervent faith, I hope now Alas, what now is left but grief, that night and
[blood Afflicts this wofull life, and with continual

be bent,

to be plast

sigh he fet,

rage

[brest!
In th' everlasting blis, which with thy precious
Thou purchase didst for us.' With that a Torments ten thousand waies my miserable
O greedie envious heav'n, what needed thee to
have

And straight a cloudie mist his sences overcast;
His lips waxt pale and wan, like damaske

To take it back againe so soone! Alas, when
Enricht with such a jewell this unhappie age:

shall

[since thy grave, may content them,

[part.

abide,

565

My onely treasure hides, the joyes of my poore On Neptune warre was made by Aeolus and hart! As here with thee on earth I liv'd, even so Who, letting loose the winds, tost and tormentLequall his traine, Me thinkes it were with thee in heav'n I did So that on ev'ry coast men shipwrack did [ed th' aire, abide: And as our troubles all we here on earth did Or else were swallowed up in open sea with So reason would that there of thy most happie And such as came to shoare were beaten with [waves, state I had my share. Alas, if thou my trustie guide The Medwaies silver streames, that wont so despaire. Were wont to be, how canst thou leave me thus Were troubled now and wrothe; whose hidden [still to slide, alone In darknesse and astray; weake, wearie, deso- Along his banks with fog then shrowded from [late, hollow caves Plung'd in a world of woe, refusing for to take Ay Phillip did resownd, aie Phillip they did [mans eye, Me with thee to the place of rest where thou

crie.

art gone!' This said, she held her peace, for sorrow tide With haire spred to the wynd themselves to [her toong; His nimphs were seen no more (thogh custom [stil it craves) And insteed of more words, seemd that her bath or sport,

eies a lake

Of teares had bene, they flow'd so plenteously The pleasant dantie fish to entangle or deceive. [therefro: Or with the hooke or net, barefooted wantonly, And, with her sobs and sighs, th' aire round The shepheards left their wonted places of

resort,

about her roong. If Venus, when she waild her deare Adonis Their bagpipes now were still; their loving [slaine, Ought moov'd in thy fiers hart compassion of Were quite forgot; and now their flocks men [mery layes might perceive

her woe,

[emong,

His noble sisters plaints, her sighes and teares To wander and to straie, all carelesly neglect, Would sure have made thee milde, and inly And in the stead of mirth and pleasure, nights rue her paine: Aurora halfe so faire her selfe did never show, Nought els was to be heard, but woes, comand dayes When, from old Tithons bed, shee weeping did But thou (O blessed soule!) doest haply not [plaints, and mone. arise. The blinded Archer-boy, like larke in showre These teares we shead, though full of loving [of raine, respect Sat bathing of his wings, and glad the time did Having affixt thine eyes on that most glorious [pure affect, spend Under those cristall drops, which fell from her Where full of majestie the High Creator [faire eies; throne, And at their brightest beames him proynd in In whose bright shining face thy joyes are all lovely wise. Yet, sorie for her grief, which he could not Whose love kindles thy spright; where happie The gentle boy gan wipe her eies, and clear Thou liv'st in blis that earthly passion never Calwaies one, those lights, Those lights through which his glory and his conquests shine.

[amend,

The Graces tuckt her hair, which hung like threds of gold,

complete,

[reignes;

Where from the purest spring the sacred Nec-
staines ;
[tar sweete
Is thy continuall drinke; where thou doest
gather now

Along her yvorie brest, the treasure of delights. There Venus on thee smiles, Apollo gives thee
Of well emploied life th' inestimable gaines,
All things with her to weep, it seemed, did en-
cline,
place,
The trees, the hills, the dales, the caves, the And decks his fiery sphere, to do thee honour
[stones so cold. And Mars in reverent wise doth to thy vertue
[bow,
The aire did help them mourne, with dark

clouds, raine, and mist,

most.

Forbearing many a day to cleare it selfe againe; A chaire of gold he sets to thee, and there doth In highest part whereof, thy valour for to grace, Which made them eftsoones feare the daies of

Pirrha shold

tell

Of creatures spoile the earth, their fatall threds Themselves of auncient fame, as Pirrhus, [untwist. Thy noble acts arew, whereby even they that [boast For Phoebus gladsome raies were wished for in

Hanniball,

vaine, And with her quivering light Latonas daughter In martiall prowesse, high thy glorie do adScipio, and Cæsar, with the rest that did excell faire, And Charles-waine eke refus'd to be the ship-All haile, therefore rakh [mans guide. mire.

(tall

566

thy fame The flowre of Sydneyes race, the honour of thy Yet wish their verses might so farre and wide name!

[aspire,

Whose worthie praise to sing, thy Muses not Extend, that envies rage, nor time, might end But sorrowfull and sad these teares to thee let

fall;

the same.

A PASTORALL AEGLOGUE

UPON THE

DEATH OF SIR PHILLIP SIDNEY, KNIGHT, ETC.

LYCON.

LYCON.

COLIN, well fits thy sad cheare this sad stownd,
This wofull stownd, wherein all things com-
plaine

This great mishap, this greevous losse of owres.
Hear'st thou the Orown? How with hollow

sownd

He slides away, and murmuring doth plaine,
And seemes to say unto the fading flowres,
Along his bankes, unto the bared trees,
Phillisides is dead. Up jolly swaine,
Thou that with skill canst tune a dolefull lay,
Help him to mourn. My hart with grief doth
freese,

Hoarse is my voice with crying, else a part
Sure would I beare, though rude: but, as I may,
With sobs and sighes 1 second will thy song,
And so expresse the sorrowes of my hart.
Colin. Ah Lycon, Lycon! what need skill,
to teach

COLIN.

|Doth us invite to make a sad consort; [theirs.
Come, let us joyne our mournfull song with
Griefe will endite, and sorrow will enforce,
Thy voice; and Eccho will our words report.
Lycon. Though my rude rymes ill with thy

verses frame,

That others farre excell, yet will I force
My selfe to answere thee the best I can, [name.
And honor my base words with his high
But if my plaints annoy thee where thou sit
In secret shade or cave; vouchsafe (0 Pan)
To pardon me, and hear this hard constraint
With patience while I sing, and pittie it.
And eke ye rurall Muses, that do dwell
In these wilde woods: if ever piteous plaint
We did endite, or taught a wofull minde
With words of pure affect his griefe to tell,
Instruct me now. Now, Colin, then goe on,
And I will follow thee, though farre behinde,
[long Colin, Phillisides is dead. O harmfull death,
A grieved mynd powre forth his plaints? how O deadly harme! Unhappie Albion,
Hath the pore turtle gon to school (weenest When shalt thou see, emong thy shepheards all,
[each Any so sage, so perfect? Whom unneath
thou)
To learne to mourne her lost make! No, no, Envie could touch for vertuous life and skill;
Curteous, valiant, and liberall.
Creature by nature can tell how to waile.
Seest not these flocks, how sad they wander Behold the sacred Pales, where with haire
Untrust she sitts, in shade of yonder hill.
now?
And her faire face, bent sadly downe, doth send
A floud of teares to bathe the earth; and there
Doth call the heav'ns despightfull, envious,
Cruell his fate, that made so short an end
Of that same life, well worthie to have bene
Prolonged with many yeares, happie and

Seemeth their leaders bell their bleating tunes
In dolefull sound. Like him, not one doth faile
With hanging head to shew a heavie chcare.
What bird (I pray thee) hast thou seen, that
prunes

Himselfe of late? did any cheerfull note
Come to thine eares, or gladsome sight appeare
Unto thine eies, since that same fatall howre?
sist on his mourning coat,

famous.

The Nymphs and Oreades her round about
Do sit lamenting on the grassie grene;

shrill cries, beating their whitest

A PASTORALL AEGLOGUE.

567

Accuse the direfull dart that death sent out
To give the fatall stroke. The starres they The fiercest wrath of Tygre or of Beare:
With his sweet caroling, which could asswage
blame,
That deafe or carelesse seeme at their request. These thickets oft have daunst after his pipe;
Ye Silvans, Fawnes, and Satyres, that emong
The pleasant shade of stately groves they shun; Ye Nymphs and Nayades with golden heare
They leave their cristall springs, where they That oft have left your purest cristall springs
wont frame
Sweet bowres of Myrtel twigs and Lawrel faire, Away all griefe and sorrow from your harts!
To hearken to his layes, that coulden wipe
To sport themselves free from the scorching Sun. Alas! who now is left that like him sings?
And now the hollow caves where horror darke When shall you heare againe like harmonie?
Doth dwell, whence banisht is the gladsome So sweet a sownd who to you now imparts
aire,
They seeke; and there in mourning spend The name of Stella in yonder bay tree.
[their time Loe where engraved by his hand yet lives
With wailfull tunes, whiles wolves do howle Happie name! happie tree! faire may you

and barke,

And seem to beare a bourdon to their plaint.
Lycon. Phillisides is dead. O dolefull ryme!
Why should my toong expresse thee? who is
left

Now to uphold thy hopes, when they do faint,
Lycon, unfortunate! What spitefull fate,
What lucklesse destinie, hath thee bereft
Of thy chief comfort, of thy onely stay!
Where is become thy wonted happie state,
(Alas!) wherein through many a hill and dale,
Through pleasant woods, and many an un-
knowne way,

Along the bankes of many silver streames,
Thou with him yodest; and with him didst scale
The craggie rocks of th' Alpes and Appenine!
Still with the Muses sporting, while those
Of vertue kindled in his noble brest, [beames
Which after did so gloriously forth shine!
But (woe is me!) they now yquenched are
All suddeinly, and death hath them opprest.
Loe, father Neptune, with sad countenance,
How he sitts mourning on the strond now bare,
Yonder, where th' Ocean with his rolling waves
The white feete was heth (wailing this mis-
chance)

Of Dover cliffes. His sacred skirt about
The sea-gods all are set; from their moist caves
All for his comfort gathered there they be.
The Thamis rich, the Humber rough and stout,
The fruitfull Severne, with the rest are come
To helpe their lord to mourne, and eke to see
The dolefull sight, and sad pomp funerall,
Of the dead corps passing through his king-
dome.

grow,

[gives

To famous Emperors and Poets crowne,
And spred your sacred branch, which honor
Unhappie flock that wander scattred now,
Forsake your food, and hang your heads
What marvell if through grief ye woxen leane,
adowne!

For such a shepheard never shall you guide,
Whose parting hath of weale bereft you cleane.

That now in heav'n with blessed soules doest
Lycon. Phillisides is dead. O happie sprite,
bide.
Looke down a while from where thou sitst
[above,
Sad songs of grief, their sorrowes to declare,
And see how busie shepheards be to endite
And gratefull memory of their kynd love.
Behold my selfe with Colin, gentle swaine,
(Whose lerned muse thou cherisht most why-
leare,)

The inward torment and tormenting paine,
Where we, thy name recording, seeke to ease
Ne can each others sorrow yet appease.
That thy departure to us both hath bred;
Behold the fountains now left desolate,
And withred grasse with cypres boughes be
spred ;
[strew;

Which faded, shew the givers faded state, [pure)
Behold these floures which on thy grave we
Whose onely comfort on thy welfare grew.
(Though eke they shew their fervent zeale and
Whose praiers importune shall the heav'ns for
That, to thy ashes, rest they may assure: [ay,
With yeerly praises, and the Nymphs alway
That learnedst shepheards honor may thy name
And all their heads, with Cypres gyrlonds
[crown'd, Thy tomb may deck with fresh and sweetest
With wofull shrikes salute him great and And that for ever may endure thy fame.
flowres ;
Colin. The sun (lo!) hastned hath his face

small.

Eke wailfull Eccho, forgetting her deare
Narcissus, their last accents doth resownd.
Colin. Phillisides is dead. O lucklesse age!
O widow world! O brookes and fountains
cleere!

O hills, O dales, O woods! that oft have rong

to steep

Warnes us to drive homewards our silly sheep:
In western waves; and th' aire with stormy
[showres
Lycon, lett's rise, and take of them good keep.
Virtute summa: cætera fortuna