That since the Fates had tane the jem away, By relicke, vision, buriall, or birth,
He might but see the carknet where it lay; Of anchoresse, or hermit, yet on Earth)
To doe fit right to such a part of molde,

Out of the maiden's bed of endlesse rest, Covering so rare a piece, that all the gold Showes them a tree new growne, so fairely drest Or dyamond earth can yeeld, for value, ne're With spreading armes and curled top, that Jove Shall match the treasure which was hidden there! Ne're braver saw in bis Dodonian grove.

“ A hunting nymph, awakened with his mone, The hart-like leaves oft each with other pyle, (That in a bowre neere-hand lay all alone,

As doe the bard scales of the crocodyle ; Twyning her small armes round her slender waste, And none on all the tree was seene but bore, That by no others us'd to be imbrac'd)

Written thereon in rich and purest ore, Got up, and knowing what the day before The name of Pan; whose lustre farre beyond Was guiltje of, she addes not to his store,

Sparkld, as by a torch the dyamond. As many simply doe, whose friends, so crost, Or those bright spangles which, fayre goddesse, doe They more afflict by showing what is lost :

Shine in the hayre of these which follow you. But bid him follow her. He, as she leadles, The shepheards, by direction of great Pan, Urgeth her hast. So a kinde mother treads, Search'd for the roote, and finding it began Earnest, distracted, where, with blood defil'de, In her true heart, bids them againe inclose She heares Iyes dead her deere and onely childe. What now his eyes for ever, ever lose. (more Mistrust now wing'd his feet, then raging ire, Now in the self-same spheare his thoughts must * For speede comes ever lamely to desire.'

With him is that did the shady plane tree love. • Delayes, the stones that waiting suiters grinde, Yet though no issue from her loynes shall be By whom at court the poor man's cause is sign'd, To draw froin Pan a noble peddigree, Who, to dispatch a suite, will not deferre

And Pan shall not, as other gods have done, To take Death for a joynt commissioner.

Glory in deedes of an heroicke sonne, Delay, the wooer's bane, revenge's hate,

Nor have his name in countryes ncere and farre The plague to creditor's decaid estate ;

Proclaim'd, as by his childe the Thunderer; The test of patience, of our hopes the racke, If Phæbus on this tree spread warming rayes, That drawes them forth so long until they cracke ; And northerne blasts kill not her tender sprayes, Vertue's best benefactor in our times,

His love shall make him famous in repute, Ole that is set to punish great men's crimes, And still increase his name, yet beare no fruite. Sh: that hath hindred mighty Pan awhile,

“ To make this sure, (the god of shepbeards last, No v steps aside : and as o're-flowing Nyle, When other ceremonies were o're-past) Hid from Clymene's sonne " his reeking head, And to performe what he before had vor'd So from his rage all opposition filed ;

To dire revenge, thus spake unto the crowd: Giving him way, to reach the timelesse toombe “ • What I have lost, kinde shepheards, all you Of Nature's glory, for whose ruthlesse dvome And to recount it were to dwell in woe; [know, (When all the Graces did for mercy pleade, To show my passion in a funerall song, And Youth and Goodnesse both did intercede) And with my sorrow draw your sighes along, The sonnes of l'arth (if living) had beene driven Words, then, well plac'd, might challenge some, To heape-on bils, and warre anew with Heaven.

what due, The shepheards, which he mist upon the downes, And not the cause alone, winne teares from you. Here mectes he with: for from the neighb'ring This to prevent, I set orations by, Maidens and men resorted to the grave (townes . For passion seldome loves formalitie.' To see a wonder more than time e're gave. What profits it a prisoner at the barre,

“The holy priests had told them, long agone, 'To have his judgement spoken regular? Amongst the learned shepheards there was one Or in the prison heare it often read, So given to pietie, and did adore

When he at first knew what was forfeited ? So much the name of Pan, that, when no more Our griefes in others' teares, like plate in water, He breath'd, those that to ope his heart began, Seeme more in quantitie. To be relator Found written there with gold the name of Pan. Of my mishaps, speakes witnesse, and that I Which unbeleeving man, that is not mor'd Have in myselfe no powre of remedy. To credit aught, if not by reason pror'd,

"Once (yet that oncc too often) heretofore And tyes the over-working powre to doe

The silver Lndon on his sandy shore Nought otherwise than Nature reacheth to, Heard my complaints, and those coole groves that Held as most fabulous : not july seeing

Shading the brest of lovely Arcady,

[be The hand by whom we live, and all have being, Witnesse, the teares which I for Syrinx spent. No worke for admirable doth intend,

Syrinx the faire! from whom the instrument Which reason hath the powre to comprehend ; That fils your feasts with joy, (which, when I blow, And faith no merit hath from Hearen lent,

Drawes to the sagging dug milke white as snow) Where humane reason yeelds experiment." Had his beginning. This encugh had beene Till now they durst not trust the legend old, To show the Fates' (my deemed sisters '') teene. Esteeming all not true their elders tolde ;

Here had they staid, this adage had beene none, And had not this last accident made good

• That our disasters never come alone.' The former, most in unbeliefe had stood. (wonder, What boot is it, though I am said to be

“But Fame, that spread the bruite of such a The worthy sonne of Mercury ? Bringing the swaines of places far asander That I, with gentle nymphes in forrests high, To this selected plot, (now famous more

Kist out the sweet time of my infancie ? Than any grove, mount, plaine, had beene before,

12 Xerxes. !! Phaeton.

" Pronapis, in suo Protocosmo,

11

And when more yeares had marle me able growne, Needlesse of help! and may this isle alone Was tbro' the mountaines for their leader knowne? | Furnish all other lands, and this land none !' That high-brow'd Mänalus, where I was bred, “ Excuse me, Thetis," quoth the aged man, And stony hils, not few, have honoured

“ If passion drew me from the words of Pan! Me as protector, by the hands of swaines, Which thus I follow : ‘You whose flockes,' quoth Whose streepe retyre there from the open plaines ? * By my protection, quit your industry, [he, That I in shepheards' cups (refecting gold "") For all the good I have and yet may give Of milke and hony, measures eight times told; To such as on the plaines hereafter live, Hare offred to me; and the ruddy wine,

I doe intreat what is not hard to grant, Fresh and new pressed from the bleeding vine? That not a band rend from this holy plant That gleesoine hunters, pleased with their sport, The smallest branch ; and who so cutteth this, With sacrifices due have thank'd me fort? Dye for the offence; to me so haynous 'tis. That patient anglers, standing all the day

And by the foods infernall here I sweare, Neere to some shallow stickle or deepe bay ;

(An oath whose breach the greatest gods forbeare) And fishermen, whose nets have drawne to land Ere Phæbe thrice twelve times shall fill her hornes, A shoale so great, it well-nye hides the sand, No furzy tuft, thicke wood, nor brake of thornes, For such successe, some promontorie's head, Shall harbour wolfe, nor in this isle shall breed, Thrust at by waves, hath knowne me worshipped? Nor lite one of that kinde: if what's decreed But to increase my griefe, what profits this? You keepe inviolate.' "To this they swore ; * Since still the losse is as the looser is.'

And since those beasts have frighted us no more. “The many-kernell-bearing pyne of late, • ]

Bat, swaine,” (quoth Thetis) “what is this you From all trees else, to me was consecrate; To what you feare shall fall on Philocel?” (tell, But now behold a roote more worth my love,

“Faire queene, attend ; but oh! I feare,” quoth Equall to that which, in an obscure grove,

“ Ere I have ended mỳ sad history,

(he, Infernall Juno proper takes to her:

Unstaying Time may bring on his last houre, Whose's golden slip the Trojan wanderer And so defraud us of thy wished powre. (By sage Cumæan Sybil taught) did bring Yond goes a shepheard, give me leate to run, (By Fates decreed) to be the warranting

And know the time of execution ; Of his free passage, and a safe repayre

Mine aged limbes I can a little straite, Through darke Averuus to the upper ayre

And quickly come (to end the rest) againe,
This must I succour, this must I defend,
And from the wild boare's rooting ever shend;
Here shall the wood-pecker no entrance finde,
Nor Tivy's bevers gnaw the clothing rinde;

PRITANNIA'S PASTORAIS.
Lambeder's heards, nor Radnor's goodly deere,
Shall never once be seene a browsing here.

THE FIFTH soxa.
And now, ye British swaines, (whose harmlesse

sheepe
Than all the world's besiile I joy to keepe)

THE ARGUMENT.
Which spread on every plaine, and billy wold,
Fleeces no lesse esteem'd than that of gold,

Within this song my Muse doth tell
For whose exchange'one Indy gems of price,

Thr worthy fact of Philocel, The other gives you of her choicest spice.

And how his love and he, in thrall, “* And well she may; but we, unwise, the while,

To death depriv'd of funerall, Lessen the glory of our fruitfull isle :

The qucene of waves doth gladly save;
Making those uations thinke we foolish are,

And frces Marina from the cave.
For baser drags to vent our richer ware,
Which (save the bringer) never profit man,
Except the sexten and physitian.
And wbether change of clymes, or what it be,

So soone as can a martin from our towne
That proves our mariners' mortalitie,

Fly to the river underneath the downe, Such expert men are spent for such bad fares

And backe returne with morter in her bill, As might have made us lords of what is thei.s.

Some little cranny in her nest to fill, Stay, stay at home, ye nobler spirits, and prise

The shepheard came; and thus began anev: Your lives more high than such base trumperies !

“ Two houres, alas ! onely two houres are due Forbeare to fitch; and they'le goe neerc to sue,

From time to him, 'tis sentenc'd so of those

That here on Earth as destinies dispose
And at your owne dores offer them to you;
Or hare their woods and plaines so overgrowne

The lives and deaths of men ; and, that time past, With poysuous weeds, roots, gums, and seeds un

He yeelds bis judgement leave, and breathes his

last. knowne; That they would hire such weeders as you be

“ But to the cause. Great goddesse, understand, To force their land froin such fertilitie.

In Mona isle, thrust from the British land, Their spices bot their natute best indures,

As (since it needed sought of others' store) But 'twill impa yre and much distemper yours.

It would intyre be, and a part no more, What our owne soyle affords befits us best;

There liv'd a maid so faire, that for her sake,
And long, and long, for ever may we rest

Since she was borne, the isle had never snake,
Nor were it fit a deadly sting should be

To hazard such admired symmetrie,
* Apollonius Smyrnæus.

So many beauties so commixt in one, 15 Virgil's Æneis, b. vi.

That all delight were dead if she were gone,

Shepheards that in her cleare eyes did delight,
Whilst they were open never held it night :
And where they shut, although the morning gray
Call'd up the Sun, they hardly thought it day,
Or if they call'd it so, they did not passe
Withall to say it eclipsed was.

The roses on her checkes, such, as each turne
Phoebus might kisse, but had no powre to burne.
From her sweet lips distil sweets sweeter doe,
Than from a cherry halfe way cut in two:
Whose yeelding touch would, as Promethean fire,
Lumps truely senselesse with a Muse inspire,
Who, praysing her, would youth's desire so stirre,
Each man in minde should be a ravisher.
Some say the nimble-witted Mercury
Went late disguis'd professing palmistrie,
And milke-naides' fortunes told about the land,
Onely to get a touch of her soft hand.
And that a shepheard, walking on the brim.
Of a cleare streame where she did use to swim,
Saw her by chance, and thinking she had beene
Of chastitie the pure and fairest queene,
Stole thence dismaid, least he by her decrce
Might undergoe Acteon's' destinie.

Did youth's kinde heate inflame me, (but the snow
Upon my head, showes it cool'd long agoe)
I then could give (fitting so faire a feature)
Right to her fame, and fame to such a creature.
When now much like a man the palsie shakes,
And spectacles befriend, yet undertakes
To lymbe a lady, to whose red and white
Apelles' curious hand would owe some right;
His too unsteady pencell, shadowes here
Somewhat too much, and gives not over cleere;
His eye, deceiv'd, mingles his colours wrong,
There strikes too little, and here stayes too long,
Does and undoes, takes off, puts on, (in vaine)
Now too much white, then too much red againe;
And thinking then to give some speciall grace,
He workes it ill, or so mistakes the place,
That she which sits were better pay for nought,
Than have it ended, and so lamely wrought:
So doe I in this weake description erre;
And, striving more to grace, more injure her.
For ever where true worth for praise doth call,
He rightly nothing gives that gives not all.
But as a lad who learning to divide,
By one small misse the whole hath falcifide.
"Coelia men call'd, and rightly call'd her so:
Whom Philocel (of all the swaines I know
Most worthy) lov'd: alas! that love should be
Subject to fortune's mutabilitie!

Whatever learned bards to fore have sung,
Or to the plaines shepheards and maydens young,
Of sad mishaps in love are set to tell,
Comes short to match the fate of Philocel.

"For as a labourer toyling at a bay

To force some cleere streame from his wonted way,
Working on this side sces the water run
Where he wrought last, and thought it finely done;
And that leake stopt, heares it come breaking out
Another where, in a farre greater spont,
Which mended too, and with a turfe made trim,
The brooke is ready to o'reflow the brim,
Or in the bancke the water having got
Some mole-hole, runs, where he expected not:

Sce Ovid's Metam. b. iii. Palaphatus de incredibilibus historiis. p. 9. Edit. du Gard.

And when all's done, still feares, least some great
raine

Might bring a flood and throw all downe againe :
So, in our shepheard's love, one hazard gone,
Another still as bad was coming on.
This danger past, another doth begin,
And one mishap thrust out lets twenty in.
For he that loves, and in it hath no stay,
Limits his blisse seld' past the marriage day.

"But Philocel's, alas! and Cœlia's too,
Must ne'er attaine so farre as others doe.
Else Fortune in them from her course should
swerve,

Who most afflicts those that most goods deserve.

"Twice had the glorious Sun run thro' the signes,
And with his kindly heate improv'd the mines,
(As such affirme with certaine hopes that try
The vaine and fruitlesse art of alchymie)

Since our swaine lov'd: and twice had Phoebus bin
In horned Aries taking up his inne,

Ere he of Calia's heart possession wonne,
And since that time all his intentions done
Nothing, to bring her thence. All eyes upon her,
Kept on the isle as carefully of some,
Watchfull, as vertue's are on truest honour.
As by the Trojans their Palladium 2.

"But where's the fortresse that can Love debarre?
The forces to oppose when he makes warre?
The watch which he shall never finde asleepe?
The spye that shall disclose his counsels deepe?
That fort, that force, that watch, that spye, would
A lasting stop to a fifth empery.
But we as well may keepe the heate from fire
As sever hearts whom love hath made intyre.

[be

"In lovely May, when Titan's golden rayes
Make ods in houres between the nights and dayes;
And weigheth almost downe th' once-eaven scale
Where night and day, by th' equinoctiall,
Were laid in ballance, as his powre he bent
To banish Cynthia from her regiment,
To Latmus' stately hill; and with this light
To rule the upper world both day and night,
Making the poore Antipodes to feare
A like conjunction 'twixt great Jupiter
And some Alcmena new, or that the Sun.
From their horizon did obliquely run:
This time the swaines and maidens of the isle
The day with sportive dances doe beguile,
And every valley rings with shepheards' songs,
And every eccho each sweet noate prolongs;
And every river, with unusuall pride,
And dimpled cheeke, rowles sleeping to the tyde,
And lesser springs, which ayrie-breeding woods
Preferre as hand-maides to the mighty floods,
Scarce fill up halfe their channels, making haste
(In fcare, as boyes) least all the sport be past.

Meeting the May-pole at the breake of day,
"Now was the lord and lady of the May
Not without some maids' envy, chosen querne.
And Colia, as the fairest on the greene,
Now was the time com'n when our gentle swaine
Must inne his harvest, or lose all againe ;
Now must he plucke the rose, least other hands,
Or tempests, blemish what so fairely stands :
And, therefore, as they had before decreed,
Our shepheard gets a boate, and with all speede
In night (that doth on lovers' actions smile)
Arrived safe on Mona's fruitfull isle.

2 Virgil's Æneis, b. ii.