Parthenophil and Parthenophe.
Sonnettes, Madrigals, Elegies and Odes.
To the right noble and vertuous gentleman, M. William Percy Esquier, his deerest friend.
To the Learned Gentlemen Readers
The Printer.
GEntlemen these laboures followinge, beeinge come of late into my handes barely, without title or subscription, partly moued by certain of my deere friends, but especially, by the worth & excellency of the worke, I thought it well deseruing my labour to participate them to your iudiciall viewes: where for both varieties of conceites, and sweete Poesie, you shall doubtlesse finde, that which shall be most commendable, and woorth your readinge, the Author though at the first vnknowne, yet enforced to accorde to certaine of his friendes importunacy herein, to publish them by their meanes, and for their sakes: vnwilling (as it seemeth) to acknowledge them, for their leuity, till he haue redeemed them with some more excellent worke hereafter, till when he requesteth your fauourable, and indifferent censures, of these his ouer youthfull Poemes, submitting them to your friendly patronages. Farewell this of May 1593.
GO barstard Orphan packe thee hence,
And seeke some straunger for defence:
Now ginnes thy basenesse to be knowne,
Nor dare I take thee for mine owne:
Thy leuity shal be discried.
But if that any haue espied,
And question with thee of thy Sire,
Or Mistrisse of his vaine desire,
Or aske the place from whence thou came,
Deny thy Sire, Loue, Place, and Name:
And if I chance vnwares to meete thee,
Neither acknowledge mee, nor greete mee,
Admit I blush, perchance I shall,
Passe by, regard me not at all,
Be secrete, wise, and circumspect,
And modesty sometimes affect:
Some goodman that shall thinke thee witty,
Will be thy patrone, and take pitty:
And when some men shall call thee base,
He for thy sake, shall him disgrace:
Then with his countenance backt, thou shalt
Excuse the nature of thy fault:
Then if some laddes, when they goe by,
Thee bastard call, giue them thely,
So get thee packing and take heede,
And though thou goe in beggars weede,
Heereafter when I better may,
I'le send reliefe some other day.
SONNETS
SONNET I.
MYstrisse behold in this true-speaking Glasse.
Thy beauties Graces of all women rarest,
Where thou maist finde how largely they surpasse
And staine in glorious louelynesse the fayrest.
But read (sweete Mistrisse) and behold it neerer
Pondring my sorrowes outrage with some pitty,
Then shalt thou finde no worldly creature deerer,
Then thou to me, thy selfe, in each Loue ditty.
But in this mirrhor equally compare,
Thy match-lesse beauty, with mine endlesse griefe:
There like thy selfe, none can be found so faire.
Of chiefest paines, there are my paines the chiefe,
Betwixt these both, this one doubt thou shalt finde,
Whether are here, extreamest in their kinde.
SONNET II.
Whiles with strong chaines, of hardy-tempered steele,
I bound my thoughtes, still gadding fast and faster:
When they through time, the diffrences did feele,
Betwixt a mistrisse seruice and a maister.
Keeping in bondage iealously enthralled,
In prisons of neglect, his natures mildenesse.
Him I with sollitary studies walled,
By thraldome choaking his out-rageous wildnesse.
[Page 2] On whome, my carefull thoughtes I set to watche,
Guarding him closely, least he should out-issue:
To seeke thee (Laya) who still wrought to catch,
And traine my tender boy, that could not misse-you:
So you bewitcht him once, when he did kisse-you:
That by such sleightes, as neuer were found out
To serue your turne he dayly went about.
SONNET III.
He when continuall vigill mou'd my watche,
Some-deale by chance, with carefull guarde to slumber:
The prisons keyes, from them did slowly snatche,
Which of the fiue, were onely three by nomber:
The first was Sight, by which he searcht the wardes,
The next was Hearing, quickly to perceiue:
Least that the watch-men heard, which were his guardes:
Third, Touch, which Vulcanes cunning could deceiue.
These tho the Springes, Wardes, Boultes, or Gimbols were
The Miracles of Vulcanes forgery:
Laide open all for his escape: now there,
The watch-men grin'd for his impiety,
What crosses bred this contrariety:
That by these keyes, my thoughtes in chaines be left,
And by these keyes, I of myne hart bereft.
SONNET IIII.
Laya soone sounding out his nature throughly,
Found that he was, a Louely Virgin Boy:
Causelesse why did thou then, deale with him roughly,
Nor yet content with him, sometime to toy.
[Page 3] But iealouse kept, least he should runne from thee,
Whome if thou kindely meant to Loue, 'twas needelesse:
Doubting least that he should runne backe to mee,
If of him any deale, thou didst stand heedelesse.
Thou coop'st him in thy Clossets secret Corners,
And then thy heartes deere play-fellow didst make him,
Whome thou in person guardedst least suborners
Should worke his freelidge, or in secrete take him,
And to this instant, neuer would forsake him:
Since for softe seruice, slauish bondes bee change,
Why didst thou from, thy iealouse maister range?
SONNET V.
It chaunced after, that an youthfull squier,
Such as in courting, could the crafty guise,
Beheld light Laya, shee with fresh desier,
Hoping th' atchieuement of some richer prise:
Drew to the Courtier, who with tender kisse,
(As are their guilefull fashions which dissemble.)
First him saluted, then with forged blisse
Of doubtlesse hope, sweete wordes by pause did tremble.
So whiles shee sleightly gloas'd, with her new pray,
Mine hartes eye tending his false mistrisse traine:
Vnyoak't himselfe, & closely scap't away,
And to Parthenophe did poast amaine
For liberall pardon, which she did obtaine:
And iudge (Parthenophe) for thou canst tell,
That his escape from Laya, pleas'd mee well.
SONNET VI.
Him when I caught, what chaines had I prouided,
What fetters had I fram'd, what lockes of reason:
What keyes of continence, had I deuised,
Impatient of the breach, gainst any treason.
But faire Parthenophe, did vrge me still,
To liberall pardon, for his former fault:
Which out alas, preuailed with my will,
Yet mou'd I bondes, least he should make default:
Which willingly shee seem'd to vndertake,
And saide, as I am virgine, I will bee
His bale, for this offence, & if he make
An other such vagare, take of mee
A pawne, for more assurance vnto thee.
Your Loue to me quoth I, your pawne shall make,
So that for his default, I forfeit take.
SONNET VII.
Her Loue to mee shee foorthwith did impawne,
And was content to set at liberty:
My trembling hart, which straight began to fawne,
Vpon his mistrisse kindely curtesy.
Not many dayes were past, when like a wanton,
He secretly did practise to depart,
And to Parthenophe did send a Canton
Where, with sighes accentes, he did loues impart:
[Page 5] And for because she daign'd him that great signe,
Of gentle fauours, in his kinde release:
Hee did conclude all duety to resigne,
To faire Parthenophe which doth encrease
These woes, nor shall my rest-lesse muses cease:
For by her of mine heart am I depriued,
And by her, my first sorrowes heate reuiued.
SONNET VIII.
Then to Parthenophe (with all post hast)
As full assured of the pawne fore pledged
I made, and with these wordes disordred plac'd,
Smooth, tho with furies sharp out-rages edged:
Quoth I (fayre mistres) did I set mine hart
At libertie, and for that made him free,
That you should arme him for another start,
Whose certaine bale you promised to bee?
Tush (quoth Parthenophe) before he goe
I'le be his bale at last, and doubt it not.
Why then (said I) that morgage must I shoe
Of your true-loue which at your hands I got?
Ay me, she was, and is his bale I wot,
But, when the morgage should haue cur'd the soare:
She past it of, by deede of gift before.
SONNET IX.
So did Parthenophe release myne hart,
So did she robbe me of myne harts rich threasure,
Thus shall she be his bale before they part,
Thus in her loue she made me such hard measure
[Page 6] Ay me nor hope of mutuall loue by leasure,
Nor any type of my poore harts release
Remaines to me, how shall I take the ceasure
Of her loues forfeture, which tooke such peace
Combyned with a former loue, then cease
To vexe with sorrowes, and thy greefes encrease.
Tis for Parthenophe thou sufferst smart.
Wyl'de natures wound not curable with art
Then cease, with choking sighes and hart-swolln throbbes.
To draw thy breath, broke of with sorrowes sobbes.
SONNET X.
Yet giue me leaue (since all my ioyes be perisht)
Hartlesse to moane, for my poore harts departire.
Nor should I mourne for him if he were cherisht,
Ah no! she keepes him like a slauish martyre:
Ah me! since mercylesse she made that chartyre,
Sealed with waxe of stedfast continence,
Sign'd with those hands which neuer can vnwrite it,
Writ with that penne, which by preheminence
To sure confirmes whatseuer was inditit:
What skilles to weare thy gyrdle or thy gartyre,
When other armes shall thy small wast imbrace?
How great a wast, of mynde and bodies weale
Now meltes my soule! I to thine eyes appeale,
If they thy tyrant champions owe me grace.
SONNET XI.
Why didst thou then in such disfigured guize
Figure the pourtraict of myne ouerthro?
[Page 7] Why manlike didst thou meane to tyrannize,
No man but woman would haue sinned so:
Why then in humaine and my secret foe
Didst thou betray me, yet would be a woman?
From my cheef wealth out weauing me this woe,
Leauing thy loue in pawne till time did come on
When that thy trustlesse bondes were to be tryed,
And when (through thy default) I thee did sommon
Into the court of stedfast loue, then cryed
As it was promist, here standes his harts bale:
And if in bondes to thee my loue be tyed:
Then by those bondes, take forfect of the sale.
MADRIGALL 1.
Oh powers coelestiall, with what sophistrie
Tooke she delight, to blancke my hart by sorrow,
And in such Riddels act my tragoedie,
Making this day for him, for me to morrow.
Where shall I Sonnets borrow
Where shall I finde brests, sides, and tong,
Which my great wrongs might to the world dispence?
Where my defence?
My Phisicke where? for how can I liue long
That haue forgone myne hart? I'le steale from hence,
From restlesse soules myne Hymnes, frō seas my teares,
From windes my sighes from cōcaue rockes and steele
My sides and voyces Echo: reedes which feele
Calme blastes still-mouing, which the shepheard beares
For waylefull plaints, my tong shall be:
The land vnknowne to rest and comfort me.
MADRIGALL 2.
Might not this be for mans more certaintie
By natures lawes enactit
That those which do true meaning falsifie
Making such bargaines as were precontractit
Should forfect freelidge of loues [...]enancie
Tot'h plaintiffe greeu'd if he exact it
Thinke on my loue, thy faith: yet hast thou crakt it
Nor nature reason loue nor faith can wake thee
To pitie me my prisoned hart to pitie
Sighes no fit incense nor my plaintes can make thee
Thy nose from sauour and thine eares from sound
Stopt'e and obturate, nought could shake thee
Thinke on when thou such pleasure found
To read my lynes and reading terme them wittie
Whiles lines for loue and braynes for bewtie witlesse
I for thee feuer-schor't, yet thou still fitlesse.
SONNET XII.
Vext with th'assaultes of thy conceiued bewtie
I restlesse on thy fauors meditate:
And tho dispare full loue (sometime) my suite tye
Vnto these fagottes figures of my state,
Which bound with endlesse lyne by leasure wate
That happy moment of your hartes reply.
Yet by those lynes I hope to finde the gate,
Which through loues laberinth shall guide me right.
Whiles vnacquainted exercise I try
Sweete solitude I shunne my lifes cheef light
[Page 9] And all because I would forget thee quite.
And (working that) me thinke it's such a sinne
(As I take penne and paper for to write)
Thee to forget: that leauing I beginne.
SONNET XIII.
When none of these my sorrowes would aledge,
I sought to finde the meanes, how I might hate thee.
Then hatefull curiousnesse I did in wedge
Within my thoughtes, which euer did awaite thee.
I fram'd myne eyes for an vniuste controllment,
And myne vnbrydled thoughtes (because I dare not
Seeke to compell) did pray them take enroulment
Of natures faultes in her, and equall spare not.
They search't and found her eyes were sharpe, and fierie:
A moule vpon her forhead, colour'd pale.
Her haire disordred, browne and crisped wyerye.
Her cheekes thinne speckled with a sommers male.
This tolde, men ween'd it was a pleasing tale.
Her to disgrace, and make my follies fade
And please it did, but her more gracious made.
MADRIGALL 3.
Once in an arbour was my mistresse sleeping
With rose and woodbind wouen
Whose person thousand graces had in keeping
Where for myne hart her harts hard flint was clouen
To keepe him safe: behind stood pertly peepin ge
Poore Cupid softly creepinge
And draue small birdes out of the myrtle bushes
[Page 10] Scar'd with his arrowes who sate cheeping
On euery sprigge whom Cupid c [...]lles and hushes
Frō branch to brāch whiles I poore soule sate weeping
To see her breathe not knowing
Incense into the cloudes and blesse with breath
The wyndes and ayre whiles Cupid vnderneath
With birdes with songes nor any posies throwing
Could her awake
Each noyse sweete lullaby was for her sake.
MADRIGALL 4.
There had my Zeuxes places and time to draw
My mistresse pourtraict, which on platane table
With nature matching colours as he saw
Her leaning on her elbow, tho not able
He gan with vermil, gold, white, and sable
To shadow forth: and with a skilfull knuckle
Liuely set out my fortunes fable,
On lippes a rose, on hand an hony-suckle.
For nature fram'd that arbour in such orders
That roses did with woodbynes buckle,
Whose shadow trembling on her louely face
He left vnshadow'd, there arte lost his grace
And that white lillie leafe with fringed borders
Of Angels gold vayled the skyes
Of myne heauens hierarchie which clos'd her eyes.
SONNET XIIII.
Then him controlling, that he left vndonne
Her eyes bright circle thus did answ [...]re make,
[Page 11] Restes mist with siluer cloude had clos'd her Sunne,
Nor could he draw them till she weare awake
Why then quoth I were not these leaues darke shade
Vpon her cheekes depainted, as you see them:
Shape of a shadow can not well be made
Was answer'd, for shades shadowes none can eye them.
[...] [...]on, proues [...] argument for me,
That my greefes image I can not set out:
Which might with liuely coloures blazed be.
Wherefore since nought, can bring the meanes about
That thou my sorrowes cause should vewe throughout,
Thou wilt not pitie me: but this was it.
Zeuxes had neither skill, nor colours fit.
SONNET XV.
Where or to whom then shall I make complaint,
By guilefull wyles, of myne hartes guide depriued?
With rightes iniustice, and vnkind constraint
Barr'd from her loues which my desertes atchiued.
This though thou sought to choake farre more reuiued
Within myne hartlesse brest, left almost fencelesse,
Oh make exchange, surrender thine for myne,
Least that my body voyde of guide be fencelesse,
So shalt thou pawne to me signe for a signe
Of thy sweete conscience, when I shall resigne
Thy loues large Charter, and thy bondes againe.
Oh but I feare myne hopes be voyde, or mencelesse,
No course is left, which might thy loues attaine:
Whether with sighes I sewe, or teares complaine.
SONNET XVI.
Yea that accursed deede before insealed,
Is argument of thy first constancie:
Which if thou hadst to me before reuealed
I had not pleaded in such feruencie,
Yet this delightes, and makes me triumph much
That myne hart in her body lyes imprisoned:
For (mongst all bay-crown'd conquerors no such
Can make the slauish captiue bost him conquered)
Except Parthenophe, whose fiery gleames
(Like Ioues swift lightning rageth, which rockes pearseth)
Heating them in-lye with his soddeyne beames
And secret golden mynes with melting sear [...]eth,
Eft-soones with cannon, his drad rage rehearseth
Yet nought seemes scortched, in apparant sight:
So first she secret burnt, then did affright.
SONNET XVII.
How then succeedeth (that amid this woe)
Where reasons sence doth from my soule denide:
By these vaine lines my fittes be specified
Which from their endlesse Ocean dayly floe
Where was it borne whence did this humour groe?
Which long obscur'd with melancholyes mist
Inspires my gyddie braynes vnpurified
So liuely, with sound reasons to persist
In framing tunefull Elegies, and Hymnes
For her whose name my Sonnets note so [...]rimmes,
That nought but her chast name so could assist:
And my muse in first tricking out her lymmes,
Found in her liuelesse shadow such delight:
That yet she shadowes her, when as I write.
SONNET XVIII.
Write write, helpe helpe, sweet muse and neuer cease
In endlesse labours pennes and papers tyer
Vntill I purchase my long-wish't desier:
Braynes with my reason neuer rest in peace,
Wast breathlesse wordes, and breathfull sighes increase,
Till of my woes remorsefull you espye her,
Till she with me, be burnt in equall fier.
I neuer will from labour wittes release
My sences neuer shall in quiet rest
Till thou be pitifull, and loue alike:
And if thou neuer pitie my distresses
Thy crueltie with endlesse force shall strike
Vpon my witts, to ceaselesse writs addrest;
My cares (in hope of some reuenge) this lesses.
SONNET XIX.
Imperious Ioue with sweet lipp'd Mercurie
Learned Minerua, Phoebus god of light
Vain-swelling Bacchus, Venus queene of bewtie
With light foote Phoebe lampe of silent night:
These haue (with diuerse dieties beside)
Borrow'd the shapes of many a mortall creature,
But (faire Parthenophe) grac'd with the pride
Of each of these, sweet Queene of louely feature.
As tho she were, with pearle of all their skill
[Page 14] By heauens cheefe nature garnished she knittes
In wrath Ioues forehead, with sweet noting quill
She matcheth Mercurie, Mineruaes wittes,
In goldie-lockes bright Tytan, Bacchus syttes
In her hauds conduict pypes, sweet Venus face,
Dianaes legge the tyrian buskines grace.
SONNET XX.
These eyes thy bewties tenants, pay dew teares
For ocupation of myne hart thy free hold:
In tenour of loues seruice (if thou behold)
With what exaction it is helde through feares,
And yet thy rentes extorted, dayly beares,
Thou would not thus consume my quiets gold.
And yet thr couetous thou be, to make
Thy bewtie rich, with renting me so roughlie
And at such sommes, thou neuer thought doest take,
But still consumes me, then thou doest misguide all:
Spending in sport for which I wrought so toughlie.
When I had felt all torture and had tryed all,
And spent my stocke through streane of thine extortion
Of that I had but good hopes for my portion.
SONNET XXI.
Yea but vncertaine hopes, are anchors feeble
When such faint-harted pilates guide my shippes,
Of all my fortunes ballist with hard peeble
Whose doubtfull viadge proues not worth two chippes
If when but one darke cloud shall dimme the skie
The cables of hopes happinesse be cut,
[Page 15] When barke with thoughtes drown'd marriners shall lye
Prest for the whirle poole of greefes endlesse glutte.
If well thou meane (Parthenophe) then rauishe
Mine hart with doubtlesse hope of mutuall loue,
If otherwise, then, let thy tong runne lauishe:
For this, or that, am I resoulu'd to proue,
And both, or either extasie, shall moue
Me rauish't, end with surfet of releefe:
Or sencelesse daunted dye, with soddeine greefe.
SONNET XXII.
From thine harts euer burning vestall fier,
The torch-light of two sunnes is norisht still.
Which in milde compasse still surmouuting hyer
There orbes with circled harmonie fulfill.
Whose rowling wheeles runne on Meridian line,
And turning, the turne backe the mistie night,
Report of which cleare wonder did incline
Mine eyes to gaze vpon that vncouth light,
On it till I was sun-burnt did I gaze,
Which with a feruent agonie possest me.
Then did I sweate, and swelt, mine eyes daze
Till that a burniug feuer had opprest me:
Which made me faint, no Phisicke hath represt me.
For I trye all, yet for to make me sound
Ay me! no grasse, nor Phisicke may be found.
SONNET XXIII.
When with the dawning of my first delight
The day light of loues delycasie mou'd me
[Page 16] Then from my heauens disdainfull starrie light
The moone-light of her chastitie reprou'd me
Her forheads threatfull cloudes from hope remou'd me
Till midnight rear'd on the mid-noctiall line
Her hart whiles pities sleight had vndershou'd me
Then did I force her downward to decline
Till dawning day light chearefully did shine
And by such happie reuolution drew
Her mornings blush to ioyfull smiles encline
And now Meridian heate dries vp my dewe
There rest faire Planets stay bright orbes of heauen
Still smiling at my dyall past eleuen.
SONNET XXIIII.
These mine hart-eating eyes doe neuer gaze
Vpon thy sonnes harmonious marble wheeles
But from these eyes through force of thy sunnes blaze
Raine teares continuall, whiles my faithes true steeles
Tempred on anueile of thine harts could flint
Strikes marrow-melting fier into mine eyes:
The tinder whence my passions doe not stint
As matches to those sparkles which arise.
Which when the taper of mine hart is lighted
[...]ke Salamanders nurrish in the flame
[...] the loues with my new torch delighted
A w [...]e like knattes did florish in the same
But burnt their winges, nor anyway could frame
To flye from thence, since Ioues proud byrd that beares
His thunder veu'd my sunne but shed downe teares.
SONNET XXV.
Then count it not disgrace if any vew me
Some-time to shower downe riuers of salt teares
From tempest of my sighes dispayre-full feares:
Then scorne me not alasse sweet frends but rew me:
Ah pitie pitie me for if you knew me,
How with her lookes mine hart amendes and weares,
Now calme now rageous as my passion beares
You would lament with me, and she which slew me.
She (which Ay me) she which did deadly wound me
And with her bewties balme tho dead keepes liuely
My liuelesse body, and by charmes hath bound me
For thankelesse meede to serue her if she viuely
Could see my sorrowes maze which none can treade
She would be soft, and light, tho flint and lead.
SONNET XXVI.
When louely wrath my mistresse hart assaileth,
Loues golden dartes take ame from her bright eyes:
And Psiche Venus rosie couche empayleth
Plac'd in her cheekes, with lillyes where she lyes:
And when she smyles from her sweet lookes and cheare-full
Like Phoebus when through soddein cloudes he starteth,
After sterne tempestes, showers, and thunder feare-full,
So she my worldes delight with her smiles harteth.
Aurora yellow lookes when my loue blushes,
Wearing her heares bright colour in her face,
And from loues rubie portall louely rushes
For euery word she speakes an Angels grace:
If she be silent euery man in place
With silence wonders her, and if she sleepe,
Ayre doth with her breathes murmur musicke keepe.
SONNET XXVII.
Why do I draw this coole releeuing ayer
And breathe it out in scaulding sighes as fast?
Since all my hopes dye buried in dispayer
In which hard soyle mine endlesse knottes be cast:
Where when I come to walke be soundry mazes
With bewties skilfull finger lyned out,
And knottes whose borders set with double dazes,
Doubles my dazed muse with endlesse doubt
How to finde easie passage through the time
VVith which my mazes are so long beset,
That I can neuer passe but fall and clyme
According to my passions which forget
The place where they with loues guide should haue met:
But when faint-wearied all me thinkes is past
The maze returning makes me turne as fast.
SONNET XXVIII.
So be my labours endlesse in their turnes
Turne turne Parthenophe turne and relent,
Hard is thine harte and neuer will repent,
See how this hart within my body burnes:
Thou sees it not atnd therfore thou reiournes
My pleasures, ill my dayes bene ouer spent:
When I begge grace, thou myne intreatie spurnes:
Mine hart with hope vpheld, with feare returnes
Betwixt these passions endlesse is my fit
Then if thou bee but humaine grant some pitie
Or if a saint sweet mercies are there meedes
Faire louely chast sweet-spoken learned wittie
These make thee saint-like and these saints befit
But thine hard hart makes all these graces weedes.
SONNET XXIX.
Blesse still the myrr-tree Venus for thy meede
For to the weeping myrre, my teares be dew:
Contentious windes which did from Tytan breede
The shaking Aspine tree belonges to you
To' th' Aspine I bequeath my ceaselesse tong:
And Phoebus let thy laurels euer florish
To still greene laurell my loues do belong:
Let mightie Ioue his okes large branches nurrish
For to strong oke mine hart is consecrate
Let dreadfull Pluto blesse blacke Heben tree
To' th' Heben my dispaire is dedicate:
And Nayads let your willowes loued be
To them my fortunes still remoued be:
So shall my teares, tong, passions neuer cease
Nor hart decay nor my dispaire decrease.
SONNET XXX.
So this continuall fountaine of my teares
From that hard rocke of her sweet bewtie trickling,
So shall my tong on her loues musicke tickling,
So shall my passions fed with hopes and feares,
So shall mine hart which wearing neuer weares,
[Page 20] But soft is hardned with her bewties prickling
On which dispaire my vulture seas'd standes pickling
Yet neuer thence his maw full-gorged beares.
Right so, my teares, tong, passions, hart, dispaire
VVith flouds, complaints, sighes, throbbes, and endlesse sorrow,
In seas, in volumes, windes, earth-quakes, and hell,
Shall floate chaunte, breath, breake, and darke mansion borrow.
And in them I be blessed for my faire:
That in these torments for her sake I dwell.
SONNET XXXI.
I burne yet am I cold, I am a could yet burne
In pleasing discontent, in discontentment pleased
Diseas'd I am in health, and health-full am diseased
In turning backe proceede, proceeding I returne
In mourning I reioyce, and in reioycing murne
In preasing I steppe backe, in stepping backe I preased
In gaining still I loose, and in my losses gaine
Grounded I wauer still, and wauering still am grounded:
Vnwounded yet not sound, and being sound am wounded:
Slayne yet am I a liue, and yet aliue am slayne:
Hounded mine hart restes still, still resting is it hounded:
In paine I feele no greef, yet voide of greefe in payne
Vnmou'd I vexe my selfe, vnuext yet am I moued
Belou'd she loues me not, yet is she my beloued.
♈ SONNET XXXII.
Scarse twise seuen times had Phoebus waggon wheele
Obliquely wandred through the Zodiacks line,
[Page 21] Since nature first to Ops did me resigne,
VVhen in mine youthfull vaine I well could feele
A lustfull rage, which reasons cheanes of steele
VVith headstrong force of lust did still vntwine,
To wanton fancies I did then encline:
VVhilst mine vnbridled Phaeton did reele
VVith heedlesse rage, till that his chariot camme
To take in fould his resting with the Ramme
But bootlesse all: for such was his vnrest
That in no limittes he could be contained.
To lawlesse sportes and pleasures euer prest
And his swift wheeles, with their sweet oyle distained.
♉ SONNET XXXIII.
Next when the boundlesse furie of my sunne
Began in higher Climates to take fier,
And with it somewhat kindled my desier,
Then least I should haue wholy bene vndonne
(For now mine age had thrise seuen winters ronne)
VVith studies, and with labours did I tyer
Mine itching fancies, which did still aspier:
Then from those obiectes (which their force begonne
Through wandring furie to possesse mine hart)
Mine eyes there vaine seducers I did fixe
On Pallas, and on Mars, home, and in field,
And armed strongly least my better part
To milder obiectes should it selfe immixe,
I vow'd I neuer would to bewtie yeeld.
♊ SONNET XXXIIII.
But when in May my worldes bright fierie sunne
Had past in Zodiacke with [...]is golden [...]
To place his beames which in the twynnes begunne,
The blazing twynne starres of my worldes bright bea [...]e
My mistresse eyes, mine heauens bright sunne, and moone,
The starres by which poore shepheard I am warned
To pinne in late, and put my flockes out soone,
My flockes of fancies as the signes me learned:
Then did my loues first spring beginne to sproute,
So long as my sunnes heate in those signes rayned.
But wandring all the Zodiacke throughout
From her mayes twynnes, my sunne such heate constrained,
That where at first I litle had complained,
From signe to signe, in such course he now posteth
VVhich dayly me, with hatt [...] sl [...]ing [...]steth.
♋ SONNET XXXV.
Next when my sunne by progresse tooke his hold
In Cancer of my mistresse crastie minde,
How retrograde seem'd she, when as I told
That in his clawes such torches I did finde,
VVhich if she did not to my teares lay plaine
That they might quenched be from their outrage,
My lones hot Iune should be consum'd in payne
Vnlesse her pittie make my greefe asswage.
Oh how she frownes, and like the Crabbe backe turnes
[Page 23] VVhen I request [...]er put her beames apart:
Yet with her bea [...]es my soules delight she burnes:
She pities not to thinke vpon my smart
Nor from her Cancers clawes can I depart,
For there the torch of my red-hot desier
Greeues, and releeues [...]e, with continuall fier.
♌ SONNET XXXVI.
And thus continuing with outrageous fier,
My sunne proceeding forward to my sorrow
Tooke vp his court, but willing to retier
VVithin the Lyons denne his rage did borrow:
But whiles within that mansion he remayned,
How cruell was Parthenophe to me,
And when of my great sorrowes I complained,
She Lyon-like wish't the might tenfold be:
Then did I rage and in vukindly passions
I rent mine heare, and rac'd my tender skinne,
And rauing in such frantique fashions,
That with such crueltie she did beginne
To feede the fier which I was burned in.
Can women brooke to deale so sore with men?
She mannes woe learn'd it in the Lyons denne.
♍ SONNET XXXVII.
But pitie which sometimes doth Lyons moue,
Remou'd my sunne from mo [...]die Lyons c [...]ise,
And into Virgoes boure did next remoue
That she was all vow'd to virginitie,
Yet said boue all men she would most affect me:
Fye Delian goddesse in thy companie
She learn'd with honest colour to neglect me,
And vnderneath chast vayles of single life
She shrowdes her craftie clawes, and Lyons hart,
VVhich with my sences now do mingle strife
Twixt loues, and vertues, which prouoke my smart:
Yet from these passions can I neuer part,
But still I make my suites importunate
To thee, which makes my case infortunate.
♎ SONNET XXXVIII.
When thine hart-pearcing answers could not hinder
Mine harts hot hammer on thy steele to batter,
Nor could excuses cold quench out that cynder
VVhich in me kindled was, she weigh'd the matter,
And turning my sunnes chariot him did place
In Libras equall mansion, taking pawse,
And casting with deepe iudgement to disgrace
My loue, with dealing cruell in the cause:
She busilie with earnest care deuised,
How she might make her bewtie tyrannous,
And I for euer to her yoke surprised:
The meanes founde out with cunning perillous:
She turn'd the wheeles with force impetuous,
And arm'd with womanlike contagion,
My sunne she lodged in the Scorpion,
♏ SONNET XXXIX.
Then from her Venus, and bright Mercurie
Mine heauens cleare Planets, did she shoot such blazes
As did infuse with heates extremitie
Mine hart, which on dispaires bare pasture grazes:
Then like the Scorpion did she deadly sting me,
And with a pleasing poison pearced me,
Which to these vtmost sobbes of death did bring me,
And through my soules saint sinewes searced me:
Yet might she cure me with the Scorpions oyle
If that she were so kinde, as bewtifull,
But in my bale she ioyes to see me boyle,
Tho be my passions deare, and dewtyfull,
Yet she remorselesse, and vnmercifull:
But when my thought of her, is such a thing
To strike me dead, iudge if her selfe can sting.
♐ SONNET XL.
But ah my plague through times outrage increased,
For when my sunne his taske had finished
Within the Scorpions mansion, he not ceased
Nor yet his heates extreames diminished,
Till that dead aming Archer drest his quiuer,
In which he closely couched at the last,
That Archer which doth pearce both hart, and liuer
With hot gold-pointed shaftes, which ranckle fast:
That proud commaunding, and swift-shooting Archer,
And more then Phoebus, is an inward parcher,
Thou with thy notes harmonious, and songes soote
Allur'd my sunne, to fier mine harts soft roote:
And with thine e [...]r w [...]ding golden Arrow
First prick't my soule, then perc'd my bodies marrow.
♑ SONNET XLI.
When my sunne Cupid tooke his next abyding
Mongst craggie rockes and mountaines with the goate,
Ah then on bewtie did my sences doate,
Then had each fayre regard my fancies guiding,
Then more then blessed was I if one tyding
Offaemal fauour set mine hart a floate:
Then to mine eyes each mayde was made a moate.
My sickle thoughtes with diuerse fancies slyding
With wanton rage of luste so me did tickle:
Mine hart each bewties captiuated vassall
Nor vanquish't then, as now, but with loues prickle
Not deepely mou'd, till loues beames did discouer
That louely Nymphe Parthenophe, no louer,
Stoppe there for feare, loues priuiledge doth passe all.
♒ SONNET XLII.
Passe all, ah no! no iot will be omitted
Now though my sunne within the water rest
Yet doth his scaulding furie still infest:
Into this signe whiles that my Phoebus flitted
Thou mou'd these streames, whose courses thou committed
To me thy water-man bound and adrest
To powre out endlesse droppes vpon that soyle
Which withers most when it is watred best:
Cease floodes, and to your channells make recoyle,
Strange floodes which on my fier burne like oyle:
Thus whiles mine endlesse furies hyer ran,
Thou thou (Parthenophe my rage begunne,
Sending thy beames to heate my fierie sunne:
Thus am I water-man, and fier-man.
♓ SONNET XLIII.
Now in my Zodiackes last extreamest signe,
My lucklesse suune his happelesse mansion made,
And in the water willing more to wade
To Pisces did his chariot wheeles incline:
For me poore fish he with his golden lyne
Bayted with bewties, all the riuer lade
(For who of such sweet baytes would stand afrade)
There nibbling for such foode as made me pyne,
Loues golden hooke on me tooke soddeine holde
And I downe swallow'd, that empoysened golde
Since then, deuise what any wisher can
Of fiercest tormentes, since all ioyes deuise,
Worse greefes, more ioyes did my true hart comprize,
Such were loues bates, my craftie fisher man.
MADRIGALL 5.
Such strāge effects wrought by thought woūding Cupid
[Page 28] In changing me to fish, his bates to swallow
With poyson choaking me, vnlesse that you bid
Him to my stomacke giue some Antidote:
Fly litle god with winges of swallow,
Or if thy feathers fast floate,
That Antidote from mine harts empresse bring,
My feeble sences to reuiue:
Least, if thou waue it with an Eagles winge
To late thou come, and finde me not aliue.
MADRIGALL 6.
Oh why lou'd I? for loue to purchase hatred,
Or wherefore hates she? but that I should loue her,
Why were these cheekes with teares bewatred?
Because my teares might quenche those sparkes,
Which with heates pitie moue her:
Her cloudie frowne with mist her bewtie darkes,
To make it seeme obscured at my smyles,
In darke true Dyamonds will shine.
Her hate my loue, her heate my teares beguyles:
Feare makes her doubtfull, yet her hart is mine.
MADRIGALL 7.
Youthes wanton spring, when in the raging Bull
My sunne was lodg'd, gaue store of flowers:
With leaues of pleasure, stalkes of howers
Which soone shak'd of the leaues, when they were full
Of pleasures bewtie dew'd, with Aprill showers:
My sommer loue, whose buddes were bewtifull,
Youthfull desiers with heates vnmercifull
[Page 29] Parched, whose seedes when haruest time was come
Weare eares against my suites obturate,
With sheaues of scorne boūd vp, which did bènumme
Mine heate with greef, yet made her hart indurate:
Oh chast desiers which hel'd her hart immurate
In wall's of Adamante vnfoyled!
My winter spent in showers of sorrowes teares
Haylestones of hatred, frostes of feares,
My braunches bar'de of pleasure, and despoiled.
MADRIGALL 8.
Why am I thus in mynde, and body wounded?
Oh mynde, and body mortall, and deuine!
On what sure rocke is your forte grounded?
On death? Ah no for at it you repine:
Nay both intombed in her bewties shrine
Will liue (tho shadowlike) that men astounded
At their Anatomies, when they shall vewe it,
May pitifull rewe it,
Yea but her murthering bewtie doth so shine,
Oh yet much mercilesse!
That hart desiers to liue with her which slew it,
And tho she still rest pitylesse:
Yet at her bewtie will I wonder,
Though sweet graces past repeate,
Neuer appeare (but when the threate)
Fiering my secret hart, with dar [...]e and thunder.
SONNET XLIIII.
Oh dart and thunder whose fierce violence
[Page 30] Surmounting Rhetorickes dart and thunder boultes
Can neuer be se [...] out in eloquence,
Whose might all mettles masse a sonder moultes:
Where be they famous Prophetes of ould Greece?
Those anchiant Romaine Poetes of acompt,
Musaeus which went for the Golden Fleece
With Iason, and did Heroes loues recompt
And thou sweet Naso with thy golden vearse
Whose louely spirite rauish't Caesars daughter,
And that sweet Tuskane Petrarke which did pearse
His Laura with loue Sonnets when he saught her:
Where be these all? that all these might hauē taught her
That sainctes deuine are knowne sainctes by their mercy,
And sainctlike bewtie should not rage with pearse eye.
SONNET XLV.
Sweet bewties rose in whose fayre purple leaues
Loues Queene in richest ornament doth lye,
Whose graces were they not too sweet and hye
Might here be seen, but since their sight bereaues
All sences, he that endlesse bottome weaues
Which did Penelope, who that shall trye
Then wonder and in admiration dye
At nature-passing natures holy frame:
Her bewtie thee reuiues, thy muse vpheaues
To draw coelestiall spirite from the skyes
To prayse the worke and worker whence it came:
This spirite drawne from heauen of thy fayre eyes
Whose guilded cognissance left in mine hart,
Shewes me thy faithfull seruant to my smart.
SONNET XLVI.
Ah pearse-eye pearsing eye, and blazing light
Of thunder thunderblazes burning vppe!
Oh sunne sunne-melting, blind, and dazing sight!
Ah hart downe driuing hart, and turning vppe!
Oh matchlesse bewtie bewties bewtie stayning!
Sweet damaske rose bud Venus rose of roases!
Ah fronte Imperious deuties deutie gayning!
Yet threatfull cloudes did still incloase and cloases!
Oh lillye leaues when Iuno lillyes leaues
In wondring at her coloures grayne distayned!
Voyce, which rockes voyce and mountaines cleaues
In sonder at my loues with payne complained!
Eye, lihtning Sunne, hart bewties bane vnfained!
Oh damaske rose! proude forhead! lillye! voyce!
Ah partiall fortune! sore chance! fillye choyce.
SONNET XLVII.
Giue me mine hart for no man liueth hartlesse,
And now depriu'd of hart I am but dead:
And since thou hast it in his tables read,
Whether he rest at ease in ioyes and smartlesse,
Whether beholding him thine eyes were dartlesse,
Or to what bondage his inthral-ment leades.
Returne deare hart and me to mine restore,
Ah let me thee possesse, returne to mee:
I finde no meanes deuoyde of skill and artlesse
Thether returne where thou triumph't before
Let me of him but repossessor bee
And when thou giues to me mine hart againe
Thy selfe thou doest bestow, for thou art shee
Whom I call hart, and of whom I complaine.
SONNET XLVIII.
I wish no rich refinde Arabian gold
Nor Orient Indian pearle rare natures wonder,
No Diamondes th' Aegiptian surges vnder,
No Rubyes of America deare sold,
Nor Saphyres which rich Affrike sandes ensold
Treasures far distant, from this Isle a sender,
Barbarian Iuories in contempt I hold:
But onely this, this onely Venus graunt
That I my sweet Pathenophe may get:
Her heires no grace of golden wyers want
Pure pearles with perfect Rubines are in set,
True Dyamondes in eyes, Saphires in vaynes,
Nor can I that soft Iuory skinne forget:
England in one small subiect such containes.
SONNET XLIX.
Coole coole in waues, thy beames intollerable
O sunne, no sonne but most vnkinde stepfather,
By law nor nature sier but rebell rather,
Foole foole these labours are inextricable,
A burthen whose weight is importable,
A Syren which within thy brest doth bath her
A fiend which doth in graces garments grath her,
A fortresse whose force is impregnable:
From my loues lymbeck still still'd teares, oh teares!
[Page 33] Quench quench mine heate, or with your soueraintie
Like Nyobe conuert mine hart to marble:
Or with fast-flowing pyne my body drye
And ryd me from dispaires chyll'd feares, oh feares!
Which on mine heben harpes hart strings do warble.
SONNET L.
So warble out your tragique notes of sorrow
Blacke harpe of liuer-pyning melancholie
Blacke humor patrone of my fancies folie,
Meere folies which from fancies fier borrow,
Hot fier which burnes day, night, midnight, and morrow,
Long morning which prolonges my sorrowes solie
And euer ouerules my passions wholie:
So that my fortune where it first made forrow
Shall there remaine, and euer shall it plowe
The bowels of mine hart, mine harts hot bowells:
And in their forrowes sow the seedes of loue,
Which thou didst sow, and newly spring vp now
And make me write vayne wordes, no wordes but vowells,
For nought to me good consonant would proue.
SONNET LI.
Lame consonants of member-vowells robbed
What perfect-sounding wordes can you compose
Wherein you might my sorrowes flame disclose?
Can you frame mamed wordes as you had throbbed?
Can you with sighes make signes of passions sobbed?
Or can your characters make sorrowes showes?
Can liquids make them? I with teares make those,
[Page 34] But for my teares with taunts and frumpes am b [...]bbed.
Could mutes procure good wordes mute would I bee,
But then who should my sorrowes image paint?
No consonants or mutes or liquids will
Set out my sorrowes, tho with greefe I faint:
If with no letter but one vowell should bee,
An A. with H. my Sonnet would fulfill.
SONNET LII.
Me thought Calliope did from heauen discend [...]
To sing, fayre mistresse thy sweet bewties [...],
Thy sweet enchanting voyce did Orpheus r [...]e,
Who with his harpe which downe the gods did sende
Coelestiall coneorde to the voyce did lende,
His musicke all wild beastes so did amaze
That they submissiue▪ thy lookes did bende:
Hilles, trees, townes, bridges, from their places wende
Hopping, and dancing, all they windes be still
And listen, whiles the Nightingalles fulfill
With Larkes and Thrushes all defectes of pleasure:
Springs sang thy prayses in a murmur shill,
Whiles I inrag'd with musicke, out of traunce
Like Bacchus preeste, did in thy presence daunce.
MADRIGALL 9.
For glorie pleasure and fayre florishing,
Sweet singing, courtly dauncing, curious loue
A rich remembrance vertuous nurrishing,
For sacred care of heauenly things
For voyces sweetnesse musickes notes aboue
[Page] When she deuinely speakes or sings
Cleio dismount, Euterpe silent bee,
Thalia for thy purple put on sack-cloath,
Sing hoarse Melpomine with Ioues Harpies three,
Terpsichore breake of thy galliard daunces,
Leaue Erato thy daliance, court in black-cloath,
Thy prayses Polymneia she inhaunces,
For heauenly zeale Vrania she outreacheth,
Pleade not Calliope sing not to thy Lute,
Ioue and Mnemosine both be mute
Whilst my Parthenophe your daughters teacheth.
MADRIGALL 10.
Thou scal'd my fort blind Captaine of conceite,
But you sweet mistresse entred at the breach:
There you made hauocke of my hart,
There you to triumph did my tyrant teach,
Beware he knowes to winne you by deceit,
Those Iuory walles cannot endure his dart,
That turret fram'd with heauens rare art
Immur'd with whitest porphyre, and inset
With roses cheeking natures pride of Rubye:
Those two true Diamōds which their windows frette,
Arch't with pure gold yet mourne in sable shade,
Warne not these that in daunger you bee?
Vanquish her little tyrant I will true bee,
And tho she will not yeeld to mee
Yet none could thrall my hart but shee.
MADRIGALL 11.
Thine eyes mine heauen which harbour louely rest,
And with their beames all creatures cheare
Stoule from mine eyes there cleare,
And made mine eyes dimme myrrouldes of vnrest.
And from her lillye forhead smooth, and plaine,
My front his withered sorrowes tooke,
And through her grace, his grace forsooke:
From soft cheekes rosie redde,
My cheekes their leanesse, and this pallid staine.
The golden penne of natures booke
(For her tong that taske vndertooke)
Which to the graces secretorie ledde,
And sweetest muses with sweet musicke fedde,
Inforc'd my muse in tragique tunes to sing:
But from her harts hard frozen string,
Mine hart his tendernesse, and heare possest.
MADRIGALL 12.
Like to the mountaines are mine high desiers,
Leuell to thy loues highest point;
Grounded on faith which thy sweet grace requiers,
For springs, teares rise in endlesse sourse:
For sommers flowers, loues fancies I appoint.
They trees with stormes tost out of course
Figure my thoughtes still blasted with dispaire:
Thunder, lightning, and hayle,
Make his trees mourne, thy frownes make me bewayle,
This onely diffrence here fier there snowes are.
SONNET LIII.
Why do I draw my breath vaine sighes to feede
Since all my sighes be breathed out in vayne?
Why be these eyes the condnictes whence proceede
These ceaselesse teares, which for your sake do rayne?
Why do I write my woes, and writing greeue
To thinke vpon them, and their sweet contriuer,
Begging some comfort which mighe me releeue,
When the remembrance is my cares reuiuer?
Why do I sew to kisse, and kisse to loue,
And loue to be tormented, not beloued?
Can neither sighes, nor teares my sorrowes moue,
By lynes, or wordes, nor will they be remoued?
Then tyre not tyrant, but on mine hart tyer,
That vnconsum'd I burne in my desier.
SONNET LIIII.
When I was yong indewd'd with natures graces
I stoule blind loues strong bow and golden arrowes,
To shoote at redbrestes, goldfinches, and sparrowes:
At shrew'd gyrles, and at boyes in other places
I shot when I was vexed with disgraces:
I perc't no skinne, but melted vp their marrowes,
How many boyes and gyrles, wish't mine embraces?
How many prayz'd my fauour, boue all faces?
But once (Parthenophe) by thy sweet side sitting
Loue had espyed me in a place most fitting
Betray'd by thine eyes beames, which makes blind see:
He shot at me, and said for thine eyes light,
[Page 38] This daring boy that durst vsurpe my right,
Take him a wounded slaue, to loue, and thee.
SONNET LV.
Nymphes which in bewtie mortall creatures staine,
And Satyres which none but faire Nymphes beholde,
They to the Nymphes, and Nymphes to them complaine,
And each in spight, my mistresse bewtie tolde:
Till soundely sleeping in a myrtle groue,
A want on Satyre had espyed her there,
Who deeming she was dead, in all hast stroue
To fetch the Nymphes which in the forestes were:
They flocking fast, in triumph of her death
Lightly beheld, and (deeming she was dead)
Nymphes sang, and Satyres daunced out of breath,
VVhilest Satyres with the Nymphes la voultaes lead
My mistresse did awake, then they which came
To scorne her bewtie, ran away for shame,
SONNET LVI.
The dyall loue which shewes how my dayes spende,
The leaden plummets sliding to the ground,
My thoughtes which to darke melancholye bend,
The rowling wheeles, which turne swift howers round
Thine eyes (Parthenophe) my fancies guide:
The watch continually which keepes his stroake,
By whose oft turning euery hower doth slide
Figure the sighes which from my lyuer smoake,
VVhose oft inuasions finish my liues date:
The watchman which each quarter strikes the bell,
[Page 39] Thy loue which doth each part exanimate,
And in each quarter strikes his forces fell:
That hammer, and great bell which endes each hower,
Death my lifes victor, sent by thy loues power.
SONNET LVII.
Thy bewtie is the sunne which guides my day,
And with his beames to my worldes life geues light,
VVith whose sweet fauour all my fancies play,
And as byrdes singing still inchant my sight
But when I seeke to get my loues cheefe pleasure,
Her frownes are like the night ledde by the lampe
Of Phoebes chast desiers, whilest without leasure
Graces like starres through all her face encampe:
Then all my fancies byrdes lye whisht for feare,
Soone as her frownes procure there shadie sorrow
Sauing mine hart, which secret shot doth beare
And nature from the Nighting all doth borrow:
VVhich from lamentes, because he will not rest
Hath loues thorne prickle pointed at his brest.
SONNET LVIII.
Fayre Clytie doth florish with the spring
And eft soones withered like thy golden heare,
And Ioes vyolettes grow florishing,
But soone defac'd which thine eyes semblance beare:
Anemone, with hyacinthe springs pryde,
Like to thy bewtie loose their louely glosse,
So will thy cheekes with graces bewtified
Returne to wrinckles, and to natures drosse:
Roses (as from thy lippes) sweet odours send,
Which herbes in them whilst iuyce, and vertues rest,
From some diseases rigour, life defend:
These (as thy selfe) once withred, men detest:
Then loue betimes, these withered flowers of yore
Reuiue: thy bewtie lost returnes no more.
SONNET LIX.
Ah me sweet bewtie lost returnes no more,
And how I feare thine hart fraught with disdaine,
Dispaier of her disdayne castes doubt before.
And makes me thus of mine harts hope complaine,
Ah me nor mine harts hope, nor helpe: dispaier
Auoyde my fancie, fancies vtter bayne
My woes cheefe worker, cause of all my cayer
Auoyde my thoughtes that hope may me restor [...]
To mine hartes heauen, and happinesse againe:
Ah wilt thou not but still depresse my thought?
Ah (mistresse) if thy bewtie this hath wrought,
That proude disdainefulnesse shall in the rayne,
Yet thinke when in thy for head wrinckles bee,
Men will disdaine thee then, as thou doest mee.
SONNET LX.
Whilst some the Troiane warres in verse recount,
And all the Grecian Conquerours in fight,
Some valiant Romaine warres boue starres do mount,
With all their warlike leaders, men of might:
Whilst some of Bryttish Arthures valure sing,
And register the prayse of Charlemayne:
[Page 41] And some of doughtie Godfrey tydinges bring,
And some the Germaine broyles, and warres of Spayne:
In none of those, my selfe I wounded finde
Neither with horseman, nor with man on foote:
But from a cleare bright eye, one captaine blinde
(VVhose pu [...]sance to resist did nothing boote)
With men in golden armes, and dartes of golde,
VVounded my hart, and all which did beholde.
SONNET LXI.
To none but to Prometheus me compayer,
From sacred heauen he stoule that holy fier:
I from thine eyes stoule fier, my iudgements are
For to be bound with cheanes of strong desier
To that hard rocke of thy thrise cruell hart:
The ceaselesse waues, which on the rockes do dash
Yet neuer pearce, but forced backward start
Those be these endlesse teares, my cheekes which wash:
The vulture which is by my goddesse doome
Assign'd to feede vpon mine endlesse lyuer,
Dispaire by the procur'd, which leaues no roome
For Ioculus to iest with Cupides quyuer:
This swallowes worldes of liuers, spending few,
But not content: O god shall this be true?
SONNET LXII.
Fye, fye, fierce tyrant, quenche this furious rage,
O quenche this rageous furie, little god!
Nay mightie god, my furies heate asswage,
Nor are thine little dartes, nor brittle rodde,
Ah that you hadst a sweet recuring dart,
Or such a rodde as into health might whipp [...] mee:
With this to leuell at my troubled hart,
To warne with scourge that no bright eye might trippe mee▪
Vayne wordes which vanish with the cloudes why speake I?
And bootebesse options builded with voyde ayer?
How oft enrag'd in hopelesse passions breake I,
How oft in false vaine hope, and blacke dispayer?
How oft left liuelesse at thy cloudie frowne?
How oft in passion, mounted, and pluck't downe?
MADRIGALL 13.
Soft louely Roselike lippes, conioyn'd with mine,
Breathing out pretious incense such,
Such as at Paphos smoake to Venus shrine,
Making my lippes immortall with their tuche:
My cheekes with tuch of thy soft cheekes deuine,
Thy soft warme cheekes, which Venus fauour much:
Those armes, such armes which me embrac'de,
Me with immortall cyncture guirding rounde
Of euerlasting blisse, then bounde
With her enfolded thighes in mine entangled,
And both in one selfe soule plac'de,
Made an Hermophrodite, with pleasures rauish't:
There heate for heats, soule for soules empyer wrāgled,
Why dyed not I with loue so largely lauish't?
For wake (not finding truth of dreames before)
It secret vexeth, tentimes more.
MADRIGALL 14.
Ah tentimes woorse tormented then before,
Tentimes more pittie should'st thou take of mee,
I haue endur'd, then sweet restore
That pleasure, which procur'd this paine:
Thou scorn'st my lynes, a sainct which make of thee,
Where true desiers of thine hard hart complaine:
There thou boue stella plac'de,
Boue laura with ten thousand more install'd,
And now proude thinkes me grac'd,
That am to thee (though mercilesse) inthrall'de.
SONNET LXIII.
Ioue for Europaes loue tooke shape of Bull,
And for Calisto playde Dianaes parte
And in a golden shower, he filled full
The lappe of Danae with coelestiall arte,
Would I were chang'd but to my mistresse gloues,
That those white louely fingers I might hide,
That I might kisse those hands, which mine hart loues
Or else that cheane of pearle, her neckes vaine pride,
Made proude with her neckes vaines, that I might folde
About that louely necke, and her pappes tickle,
Or her to compasse like a belt of golde,
Or that sweet wine, which downe her throate doth trickle,
To kisse her lippes, and lye next at her hart,
Runne through her vaynes, and passe by pleasures part.
SONNET LXIIII.
If all the loues were lost, and should be founde,
And all the graces glories were decayde,
In thee the graces ornamentes abounde,
In me the loues by thy sweet graces layde.
And if the muses had their voyce forgone,
And Venus husbandes forge had lost his fier,
The muses voyce, should by thy voyce be knowne,
And vulcanes heate, be founde in my desier.
I will accuse thee to the goddes of thefte,
For Pallas eye, and Venus rosie cheeke,
And Phoebes forehead, which thou hast berefte,
Complaine of me to Cupid, let him seeke
In vayne for me each where, and in all partes,
For gainst my will, I stoule one of his dartes.
SONNET LXV.
Oh that I had no hart, as I haue none,
(For thou mine hartes full spirite hast possessed)
Then should myne argument be not of mone,
Then vnder loues yoke should should I not be pressed:
Oh that without myne eyes I had been borne,
Then had I not my mistresse bewtie vewed,
Then had I neuer been so farre forlorne,
Then had I neuer wep't, then neuer rewed:
Oh that I neuer had been borne at all,
Or beeing, had been borne of shepheardes broode,
Then should I not in such mischances fall,
Quyet my water and content my foode:
[Page 45] But now disquieted, and still tormented,
With a duerse fate, perforce must rest contented.
SONNET LXVI.
Ah sweet content, where is [...]hy mylde abode?
Is it with shepheardes and light-harted swaynes?
Which sing vpon the downes and pype abroade
Tending their flockes and cattell on the playnes?
Ah sweet content, where doest thou safely rest?
In heauen, with Angels which the prayses sing
Of him that made and rules at his behest
The mindes, and harts of euery liuing thing?
Ah sweet content, where doth thine harbour hold,
Is it in Churches, with Religious men,
Which please the goddes with prayers manifold,
And in their studies meditate it then.
Whether thou doest in heauen, or earth appeare,
Be where thou wilt, thou will not harbour here.
SONNET LXVII.
If Cupid keepe his quiuer in thine eye,
And shoote at ouer-daring, gasers hartes,
Alas why be not men afrayde, and fllye
As from Medusaes, doubting after smartes?
Ah when he drawes his string, none sees his bow,
Nor heares his golden fethred arrowes sing,
Ay me till it be shot no man doth know,
Vntill his hart be pricked with the sting,
Like semblance beares the musket in the field,
It hittes, and killes vnseene, till vnawares
[Page 46] To death wounded man his body yeeld,
And thus a pesant, Caesars glorie dares:
This diffrence left, twixt Mars his field, and loues,
That Cupids souldior shot, more torture proues.
SONNET LXVIII.
Would God (when I beheld thy bewteous face,
And golden tresses, rich with pearle, and stone)
Medusaes visage had appear'd in place,
With snakie lockes, looking on me alone:
Then had her dreadfull charming lookes me changed
Into a sencelesse stone, oh were I sencelesse!
Then rage through rash regard had neuer ranged,
Whereas to loue I stood disarm'd and fencelesse:
Yea but that diuerse obiect of thy face,
In me contrarious operations wrought,
A mouing spirite, prick't with bewties grace,
No pitties grace in thee, which I haue sought
Which makes me deeme, thou didst Medusa see,
And should thy selfe, a mouing marble bee.
SONNET LXIX.
The leauelesse branches of the liuelesse bowes
Carue winters out-rage in their withered barkes:
The withered wrinckles, in my carefull browes
Figure from whence, they drew those crooked markes:
Downe from the Thracean mountaines, okes of might,
And loftie firres into the valley fall,
Sure signe where Boreas hath vsurp'te his right,
And that long there, no Syluanes dally shall:
Fieldes with prodigious inundatious drown'de,
For Neptunes rage, with Amphitrite weepe:
My lookes, and passions, likewise shewe my wounde,
And how some fayre regard did strike it deepe.
These braunches, blasted trees, and fieldes so watred,
For wrinckles, sighes, and teares, fore shew thine hatred.
SONNET LXX.
What can these wrinckles, and vayne teares portende
But thine hard fauour, and indurate hart?
What shew these sighes, which from my soule I send
But endlesse smoake, raiz'd from a fierie smart?
Canst thou not pittie my deepe wounded brest?
Canst thou not frame those eyes to cast a smile?
Wylt thou with no sweet sentence make me blest?
To make amendes wilt thou not sport a while?
Shall we not once with our opposed eyne
In inter change, send, golden dartes rebated?
With short reflection twixt thy browes and mine
Whilest loue with thee, of my greefes hath debated?
Those eyes of loue, were made for loue to see,
And cast reguardes on others, not on mee.
SONNET LXXI.
Those haires of Angels gold, thy natures treasure
(For thou by nature Angellike art framed)
Those louely browes, broade bridges of sweet pleasure,
Arche two cleare springs of graces gratious named,
There graces infinite do bathe, and sporte:
Vnder on both sides, those two pretious hilles
[Page 48] Where Phoeb'e, and Venus haue a seuerall forte:
Her couche with snowie lillyes Phoebe filles,
But Venus with redde Roses her's adorneth,
There they with silent tokens doe dispute:
VVhilst Phoebe Venus, Venus Phoebe scorneth,
And all the graces Iudgers there sit mute
To giue their verdict, till great Ioue said this,
Dianaes arrowes wounde not like thy kisse.
SONNET LXXII.
My mistresse bewtie matched with the graces
Twix't Phoeb', and Iuno should be Iudged there,
Where she with maske had, vayl'd the louely places,
And graces in like sort I masked were:
But when their louely bewties were disclos'd
This Nymphe (quoth Iuno) all the graces passeth,
For bewteous fauours in her face dispos'd,
Loues goddesse, in loues graces she surpasseth:
She doth not passe the graces Phoebe sade
(Though in her cheekes the graces richly sitte)
For they be subiectes to her bewtie made,
The glorie for this fayre Nymphe is most fitte:
There in her cheekes the graces blush for shame,
That in her cheekes to striue, the subiectes came.
SONNET LXXIII.
Why did rich nature graces gr [...]nt to thee,
Since thou art such a niggar [...] of thy grace?
Or how can graces in thy body bee
Where neither they, nor pittie finde a place?
Ah they bene handmaydes to thy bewties furie,
Making thy face to tyrannise on men.
Condemn'd before thy bewtie by loues Iurie,
And by thy frownes adiudg'd to sorrowes den
Graunt me some grace, for thou with grace art wealthie
And kindely mayst afforde some gratious thing,
Mine hopes all as my minde weake and vnhealthie,
All her lookes gratious, yet no grace do bring
To me poore wretche, yea be the graces theare:
But I the furies in my brest doe beare.
SONNET LXXIIII.
Cease ouer-tyred muses to complayne,
In vayne thou powers out wordes, in vayne thy teares,
In vayne thou writes thy verses, all in vayne:
For to the rockes and wall which neuer heares
Thou speakes, and sendes complaintes which finde no grace:
But why compaire I thee to rockes, and walles:
Yes thou discendes from stones and rockes by race',
But rockes will answere to the latter calles,
Yea rockes will speake each sentences last word,
And in each sillabe of that word agree,
But thou nor last nor first wilt me afford:
Hath pride or nature bred this fault in thee,
Nature, and pride haue wrought in thee these euils,
For women are by nature proude as diuels.
SONNET LXXV.
Loue is a name too louely for the god,
He naked goes, redde colour'd in his skinne.
[Page 50] And bare (all as a boy) fitte for a rod:
Hence into Africke, there seeke out thy kinne,
Amongst the Moores, and swarthie men of Inde,
Me thou of ioyes, and sweet content hast hindred:
Hast thou consum'd me, and art of my kinde?
Hast thou in [...]ag'd me, yet art of my kindered?
Nay Ismarus, or Rhodope thy father,
Or craggie Caucasus thy crabbed sier,
Vesuuius else, or was it Aetna rather?
For thou how many doest consume with fier?
Fierce Tygres, VVolues, and Panthers gaue the sucke
For lou [...]ly Venus had not such [...]uill lucke.
SONNET LXXVI.
Be blind mine eyes, which saw that stormie frowne:
Wither long-watring lippes, which may not kisse:
Pyne armes, which wisht' for sweet embraces missee
And vpright parts of pleasure, fall you downe:
VVast wanton tender thighes consume for this,
To her thighes elmes, that you were not made vynes:
And my long pleasure in her body grafted,
But at my pleasure her sweet thoughtes repines.
Mine hart with her faire colours should be wafted
Throughout this Oceane of my deepe dispaier:
VVhy doe I longer liue, but me prepaier
My life togather with my ioyes to finish?
And (long eare this) had I dyed with my care
But hope of ioyes to come, did all dim [...]ish.
SONNET LXXVII.
How can I liue in mindes or bodies health
VVhen all foure elementes my greefes conspier?
Of all harts ioyes depriuing me be stelth,
All yeelding poysons to my long desier,
The fire with heates extreames mine hart enraging,
Water in teares, from dispaires fountaine flowing,
My soule in sighes, ayer to loues soule ingaging,
My fancies coales, earthes melancholie blowing.
Thus these (by nature) made for my releefe,
Through that bold charge, of thine Imperious eye
Turne all their graces into bitter greefe,
And I were dead should any of them dye:
And they my bodies substance all be sicke,
It followes then, I cannot long be quicke.
SONNET LXXVIII.
The proudest Planet in his highest Spheare,
Saturne inthronist in thy frowning browes:
Next aufull Ioue thy maiestie doth beare:
And vnto dreadfull Mars, thy courage bowes,
Drawne from thy noble grandfathers of might:
Among'st the laurell crowned Poetes sweete,
And sweet Musitions take the place by right:
For Phoebus with thy graces thought it meete:
Venus doth sit vpon thy lippes, and chinne:
And Hermes hath inrich't thy wittes deuine:
Phoebe with chast desiers thine hart did winne:
The Planettes thus to thee their powers resigne.
[Page 52] Whom Planets honour thus is any such?
My muse then can not honour her too much.
SONNET LXXIX.
Couetous eyes, what did you late behold?
My riuall graced with a sunne-bright smile,
Where he with secret signes, was sweetly told
Her thoughtes with winkes, which all men might beguile
Audacious did I see him kisse that hand,
Which holdes the reanes of mine vnbridled hart,
And softely wringing it did closely stand
Courting with loue termes, and in louers art:
Next (with his fingers kist) he toucht her middle,
Then saucic (with presumption vncontrolld)
To hers from his eyes sent regardes hy riddle.
At length, he kist her cheeke: ah me! so bold
To bandie with bel-gardes in interchange?
Blind mine eyes (enuie) that the may not range.
SONNET LXXX.
Long wish't for death, sent by my mistresse doome
Hold take thy prisoner full resolu'd to dye,
But first as cheefe, and in the highest roome
My soule to heauen I doe bequeath on hye,
Now readie to be seuer'd from thy loue:
My sighes to ayer, to Christall springes my teares,
My sad complaintes (which thee could neuer moue)
To mountaines desolate, and deafe, my feares
[...]o Lambes beset with Lyons, my dispare
To night, and irksome dungeons full of dread:
[Page 53] Then shalt thou finde (when I am past this care)
My tormentes which thy cruelties haue bredde
In heauēs, clouds, springs hard mountaines, lambes, & night.
Here once vnited, then disseuer'd quite.
SONNET LXXXI.
O kingly ielousie which canst admitte
No thought of com-peeres in thine high desier!
Loues bastard daughter for true-loues vnfitte
Scaulding mens harts, with force of secret fier:
Thou poysoned cancour of much-bewteous loue,
Fostred of enuies pappes with wrathfull rage,
Thou which doest still thine owne distruction moue
With eagles eyes, which secret watch doth wage:
With Peacockes feete, to steale in vnawares:
With prognes winges to false suspect which flyes
Which vertues hold in durance rashly dares,
Prouoker, and maintayner of vaine lyes,
Who (with rich vertues, and faire loue possest)
Causelesse hast all to thine harts hell adrest.
SONNET LXXXII.
The chariot with the steed is drawne along,
Shippes wing'd with windes, swift houer on the waues:
The stubborne plowes are hayl'd with Oxenstrong,
Hard Adamant the strongest yron craues:
But I am with thy bewtie strongly forc'd,
Which (full of courage) drawes me like the steede:
Those windes thy spirite, whence cannot be diuorc'd,
Mine hart the shippe, from danger neuer free'd:
That strong conceipt on thy sweet bewtie lade,
The strong neck't Oxe, which drawes my fancies plow:
Thine hart that Adamant, whose force hath made
My strong desiers, stand subiect vnto you.
Would I were horse, oxe, Adamante, or winde:
Than had I neuer car'd, for woman-kinde.
SONNET LXXXIII.
Darke night blacke image of my foule dispare,
With greeuous fancies cease to vexe my soule,
With payne, sore smart, hot fires, cold feares, long care:
Too much (alas) this ceaselesse stone to roule.
My dayes be spent in penning thy sweet prayses,
In pleading to thy bewtie neuer matched,
In looking on thy face, whose sight amazes
My sence, and thus my long dayes be dispatched.
But night fourth from the mistie region rising
Fancies with feare, and saddispayer doth send,
Mine hart with horrour, and vayne thoughtes agrizing:
And thus the fearefull tedious nightes I spend:
Wishing the noone to me were silent night,
And shades nocturnall, turned to daylight.
SONNET LXXXIIII.
My sweet Parthenophe, within thy face
My passions Calender may plaine be red:
The golden number told vpon thine hed,
The sunne dayes (which in carde I holy place
And which diuinely blesse me with their grace)
Thy chearefull smiles which can recall the dedde:
These dayes are six to one more then the rest:
My leape yeare is (oh when is that leape yeare)
When all my cares I ouerleape, and feast
With her fruition whom I hould most deare.
And if some Calenders the truth tell mee,
Once in fewe yeares, that happie leape shall bee.
SONNET LXXXV.
From Eastes bed roasie, whence Aurora riseth
Be thy cheekes figur'd, which their beames display
In smiles: whose sight myne hart with ioy surpriseth,
And which my fancies flowers do fayre aray,
Chear'd with the gracious dewes of her regarde:
The West, whence euening comes, her frowning brow,
Where discontentment plowes his furroes harde,
(There doth she burie her affections now)
The North whence stormes, with mistes and frostes proceede,
My blacke dispayer, long sorrowes, and cold feare:
The South whence showers, in great abundance breede,
And where hot sunne doth to Meridian reare,
Mine eyes whose obiectes naught but teares requier,
And my soft hart consum'd with rage of fier.
SONNET LXXXVI.
Oh fierie rage, when wilt thou be consum'd,
Thou that hast me consumed in such sort,
As neuer was poore wretch (which so presumed)
But for surueying of that bewteous sort?
Kep't in continuall durance, & inchayn'd
With hot desires, which haue my body pyned:
My minde from pleasures, and content restrained,
My thoughtes to care, and sorrowes ward assigned:
There, with continuall melancholie placed
In dismall horror, and continuall feare
I passe these irksome howers, scorn'd and disgraced
Of her, whose crueltie no brest can beare canbeare,
No thought endure, no torture can outmatch:
Then burne on rage of fier, but me dispatch.
SONNET LXXXVII.
Burne on sweet fier, for I liue by that fewell
Whose smoake is as an incense to my soule:
Each sigh prolonges my smart, befierce and cruell
(My fayre Parthenophe) frowne, and controule,
Vexe, torture, scaulde, disgrace me, do thy will,
Stoppe vp thine eares, with flint immure thine hart,
And kill me with thy lookes, if they would kill:
Thine eyes, those christall phialls, which impars
The perfect balme, to my dead-wounded brest,
Thine eyes the quiuers, whence those dar [...]es were drawne
Which me to thy loues bondage haue adrest:
Thy smile, and frowne, night starre, and daylightes dawne.
Burne on, frowne on, vexe, stoppe thine eares, torment me,
More for thy bewtie borne, would not repent me.
SONNET LXXXVIII.
Within thine eyes mine hart takes all his rest,
In which still sleeping all my sence is drown'd:
[Page 57] The dreames (with which my sences are opprest)
Be thousand louely fancies, turning round
The restlesse wheele of my much busie brayne:
The morning, which from resting doth awake me,
Thy bewtie, banish't from my sight agayne,
When I to long melancholie betake me:
Then full of errours all my dreames I finde,
And in their kindes contrarious, till the day
(Which is her bewtie) set on worke my minde,
Which neuer will cease labour, neuer stay:
And thus my pleasures are but dreames with me,
Whilst mine hot feuers paynes quotidian be.
SONNET LXXXIX.
What be those heares dyed like the marrigold?
Echo, gold
VVhat is that brow whose frownes make any mone?
Echo, anymone
VVhat were her eyes when the great Lordes controllde?
Echo, roll'de
VVhat be they when from them be loues throwne?
Echo, loues throane
VVhat were her cheekes (when blushes rase) like?
Echo, roselike
VVhat are those lippes which boue perles rew bee?
Echo, rewbee
Her Iuorie shoulders what be those like?
Echo, those like
VVhat saintes are like her speake if you bee?
Echo, few bee
[Page 58] Thou dwellst in rockes hart like somewhat then?
Echo, what then?
Androckes dwell in her hart, is tis true?
Echo, tis true
VVhom she loues best, know this cannot men?
Echo, not men
Passe him she loathes, then I dismisse you?
Echo, misseyou
What sexe to whom men sewe so vayne much?
Echo, vayne much
Furies there fiers, and I complaine such?
Echo, plaine such.
SONNET XC.
My mistresse armes are these, fayre, cleare, and bright:
Argent in midst where is an ogresse set
VVithin an azuer ann'let, placed right:
The creaste two golden bowes, almost neare met
(And by this creaste her power abroad is knowne)
These armes, she beareth in the field of loue,
By bloudy colours where loues wrath is showne.
But in kinde passion, mylder then the doue
Her goodly siluer ensigne she displayes
Semi de roses, at whose louely sight
All louers are subdued, and vanquisht prayse
Those glorious colours vnder which they fight:
I by these armes, her captiue thrall was made:
And to those colours in that field betray'de.
SONNET XCI.
These bitter gustes which vexe my troubled seas,
And moue with force, my sorrowes floudes to flowe:
My fancies shippe tost here, and there by these
Still floates in daunger, raunging too and froe:
How feares my thoughtes swift pynnace thine hard rocke,
Thine harts hard rocke, least thou mine hart (his pylate
Together with him selfe) shouldrashely knocke,
And being quite dead-stricken, then should cry late,
Ah me! to late to thy remorselesse selfe,
Now when thy mercies all been banished
And blowne vpon thine hard rockes ruthlesse shelfe,
My soule in sighes is spent and vanished,
Be pittyfull alas, and take remorse,
Thy bewtie too much practiseth his force.
SONNET XCII.
VVilt thou know wonders by thy bewtie wrought?
Behold (not seene) an endlesse burning fier
Offancies fuell, kindled with a thought,
VVithout a flame, yet still inflamed hyer:
Noflames appearance, yet continuall smoake
Drawne coole to kindle, breath'd out hot agayne:
Two dy'mondes, which this secret fier proucke,
Making two christalls with their heate to rayne:
A skinne, where bewteous graces reste at ease:
Atongue, whose sweetnesse mazes all the muses:
And yet, an hart of marble match't with these
A tongue (besides) which sweet replyes refuses.
[Page 60] These wonders by thy bewtie wrought alone,
Through thy proude eye, which made thine hart astone.
SONNET XCIII.
Begges loue which whilome was a dyetie?
I list no such proude beggars at my gate:
For almes he mongst cold Arctique folke doth wate,
And sunne-burnt Moores in contrarietie,
Yet sweates, nor freezes more: then is it pietie
To be remorse-full at his bare estate,
His reach he racketh at an higher rate,
He ioynes with proudest in societie:
His eyes are blind (for-sooth) and men must pittie
A naked poore boy which doth no man harme,
He is not blind, such beggar boyes be wittie
For he markes, hittes, and woundes harts with his arme,
Nor coldest North can stoppe his naked race,
For (where he comes) he warmeth euery place.
SONNET XCIIII.
Foorth from mine eyes, with full-tide flowes a riuer,
And in thine eyes, two sparkling chrisolytes:
Mine eyes still couet to behold those lightes,
Thine eye still fill'd with arrowes, is loues quiuer:
Through mine eye, thine eyes fier inflames my lyuer,
Mine eyes in hart, thine eyes cleare fancies write:
Thus is thine eye to me my fancies giuer,
Which from thine eyes, to mine eyes take their flight,
Then pearce the secret center of my harte,
And feede my fancies with inflamed fewell,
[Page 61] This onely greeues, myne eyes had not that arte,
Thine to transpearce, thy nature was so cruell.
But eyes, and fancies, in this triumph make
That they were blind and raging for her sake.
SONNET XCV.
Thou bright beame-spreading loues thrise happy starre,
Th'arcadian shepheard Astrophill's cleare guide:
Thou that on swift wing'd Pegasus doest ride,
Auroraes harbenger, surpassing farre
Aurora caried in her rosie carre:
Bright Planet, teller of cleare euening-tide,
Starre of all starres, fayre fauor'd nightes cheese pride,
Which day from night, and night from day doest barre:
Thou that hast worldes of harts with thine eyes glaunce
To thy loues pleasing bondage taken thrall,
Behold, where graces in loues circles daunce,
Of two cleare starres, out-sparkling Planettes all:
For starres, her bewties arrow bearers bee,
Then be the subiectes, and superiour shee.
SONNET XCVI.
The sunne in Pisces, Venus did intende
To see sicke Flora, whose soyle (since by kinde
Tytan to th' Antipod's his beames resign'de)
No pleasant flowers to welcome her did sende,
To whom for neede, Parthenophe did lende
(At natures suite) rich Helioch rise, which shyn'de
In her fayre heare, white lillyes which combyn'de
Which her high-smoothed browes, which bent, loue bende:
Violettes from eyes, sweet blushing eglantine
From her cleare checkes, and from her lippes sweet roases:
Thus Venus paradice, was made deuine
VVhich such as nature in my Ladye cloases.
Then since with her loues Queene was glorified,
VVhy was not my sweet Lady diefied?
SONNET XCVII.
Oh why should enuie with sweet loue consorte
But that, with loues excesse seuen sinnes vnite:
Pride: that in high respect of my delight
I scorne all others. Lust: that with disporte
In thought of her, I sometimes take comfort.
VVrath, that with those in secret hart I fight
Which smile on her. and enuie: that I spight
Such meates, and wines as to her lippes resorte
And tuch that tongue, which I can neuer kisse.
Sloath: that secure in too much loue I sleepe
And nuzzled so, am to be free'de remisse.
And couetous I neuer meane can keepe
In crauing, wishing, and in working this
Though still I kisse and tuch, still tuch and kisse.
SONNET XCVIII.
The sunne my Ladies bewtie representes,
VVhose fierie-pointed beames each creature heates
Such force her grace on whom it counterbeates
Doth practise, which the patient still tormentes:
And to her vertues the bright moone assentes,
VVith whose pure chastitie my loue she threates:
[Page 63] VVhose thought it selfe in her coole circle seates,
And as the moone her bright habilimentes
Of her bright brother Phoebus borroweth,
So from her bewtie doth her chast desier
His brightnes draw, for which none aspier,
To tempt so rare a bewtie, yet forgiue:
He that for thy sake so long sorroweth,
Can not but longer loue, if longer liue.
SONNET XCIX.
This carefull head (with diuerse thoughtes distrest)
My fancies chronicleire, my sorrowes nurse:
These watchfull eyes (whose heedlesse am I curse)
Loues centernelles, and fountaines of vnrest:
This tongue still-trembling, harrold fit adrest
To my loues greefe, then any torment worse:
This hart true fortresse, of my spottelesse loue,
And rageous furnace of my long desier:
Of these by nature am I not possest
(Though nature there first meanes in me did moue)
But thou (deare sweet) with thy loues holy fire
Mine head greefes anueyle made with cares opprest,
Mine eyes a spring, my tongue a leafe-winde shaken,
Mine hart a wastfull wildernesse forsaken.
SONNET C.
Pleading for pitie to my mistresse eyes,
Vrging on dutie fauours as desartes,
Complaining mine hid flames, and secret smartes,
She with disdaynefull grace, in iest replyes.
Her eyes were neuer made mans enemies:
Then me with me conceipt she ouer thwartes,
Vrging my fancie, which vayne thoughtes [...]
To be the causer of mine iniuries,
Saying I am not vext as I complained,
How melancholye bred this light [...]
Hard-harted mistresse, canst thou thinke I fayned?
That I with fancies vayne vayne woes repeate?
Ah no! for though thine eyes none else offend,
Yet by thine eyes, and noes, my woes want end.
SONNET CI.
Had I been banish't from the natiue soyle,
Where with my life I first receaued light:
For my first cradles had my tom [...]e beene dight:
Or chang'd my pleasure for a ceaselesse toyle:
Had I for nurce, been left to Lyons spoyle:
Had I for freedome, dwelt in shadie nigh [...]
Coup't vp in loth-some dungeo [...]s from mens sight.
Those first desiers which in my brest did boyle,
From which thy loues (vnkinde) thou banished
Had not been such an exile to my blisse.
If life (with my loues infancie) were vanished,
It had not been so sore a death as this:
If Lyonesses were in steede of nurses,
Or night for day, thine hate deserues more curses.
SONNET CII.
Vayne gallantes, whose much longing spirites tickle,
Whose braynes swell with abundance of much witte,
[Page 65] And would be touch't fayne with an amourous fitte,
O lend your eyes, and bend your fancies fickle,
You, whom affections dart did neuer prickle,
You which hold louers fooles, and argue it:
Gase on my sunne, and if teares do not trickle
From your much maisterd eyes where fancies sitte,
Then, eagles will I terme you for your eyes,
But Beares, or Tygres for your saluage hartes:
But if it chance such fountaines should arise,
And you made like partakers of my smartes,
Her for her percing eyes, an eagle name:
But for her hart, a Tygre neuer tame.
MADRIGALL 15.
Natures pride, loues pearle, vertues perfection,
In sweetnesse, bewtie, grace,
Of body, face, affection,
Hath glorie, brightnesse, place,
In rosie cheekes, cleare eyes, and heauenly minde:
All which, with wonder, honour, prayse take race
To charme, to shine, to flye, with fames protection:
Mine hart the first, mine eyes next, third my thought,
Did wound, did blind, did binde,
Which greeu'd, obscur'd, and wrought,
Hart, eyes, and sen [...]s with such imperfection,
That in their former comfort, sight, and kinde,
The moued, gaz'd, and sought,
Yet found not, in what order, sort, and case,
Of teares, plaints, sighes, with seas, with murmure, winde,
To finde, to get, t'imbrace,
Natures pride, loues pearle, vertues perfection.
MADRIGALL 16.
Sleepe Phoebus still in glaucie Thetis lappe,
Ioues eagles percing eyes be blinde:
Soft thinges whose tuch, is tickle to the minde
Giue no like tuch, all ioyes in one to wrappe.
All instrumentes, all birdes, and voyces
Make no such heauenly musicke in their kinde:
No fruites haue such sweet sappe,
No roote such ioyces,
No balme so much reioyces:
O breath, exceeding euery rich perfume!
For loue all pleasures in a kisse did lappe.
Her eyes did giue bright glaunces,
Sight is no sight, all light with that consume:
She tuch't my cheeke, at which tuch mine hart daūces,
Mine eyes, in priuie combate did praesume
Charging mine handes to charge her middle,
Whilst they threw wounding darts, & healing launces:
She kist and spoke attonce a riddle:
But such sweet meaning in darke sence
As shew'd the drift of her deare-sweet pretence,
More pleasing, then the corde of Harpe, or Lute.
On heauenly cherries then I feede,
Whose sappe deliciouser then Angels food,
Whose breath more sweet, thē gūme, be [...]e, flower, or bood,
O kisse which did all sence exceede!
No man can speake those ioyes, then muse be mute:
But say, for sight, smell, hearing, tast, and tuch,
In any one thing, was there euer such?
MADRIGALL 17.
Enuious ayer, all natures publicke nurse
Lend to my life no spirite:
Not that I prosper worse
Then earst of yoare, for I the state inherite
Which goddes in Paradise, boue mans demerite,
But for I highly scorne,
Thy common vnpour should
With her sweet breath immixe, I cannot beare it:
Cold ayres infusion cannot be forborne,
O kisse, ô soule, which could
All way linges haue outworne!
Angell of blisse, which cheeres me night, and morne,
Sweet cloud, which now with my soule doest enfould,
Salue to my soule once sicke.
Let men in Inde I'borne,
Cease boasting of rich drugges, and sweet perfume,
Egyptian gummes, and odours Arabicke
I loth, and wood deare sould
From Myrre, and Cypresse torne:
Tarry sweet kisse, do not in cloudes consume,
Yet can I feele thy spirite mouing quicke,
O why should ayre praesume,
To be her spirites riuall!
What do I speake? nor am I lunaticke:
I can not liue, else would I not assume
Cold ayer, to contriue all
My sorrowes with immixion,
Then dye whilst this sweet spirite the doth prycke,
Whilst thy sweet comfortes kisses are alyueall,
[Page] And loues sweet iurisdiction
Will make the dye possessed
Of all heauens ioyes, which for most comfort striueall:
Least death to pleasure should giue interdiction
Ah let my lippes be pressed,
And with continuall kisses
Powre euerlasting spirite to my life,
So shall I all wayes liue, so still be blessed.
Kisse still, and make no misses,
Double, redouble kisses,
Murmure affections, warre in pleasing strife:
Presse lippes, lippes rest oppressed,
This passion is no fiction.
MADRIGALL 18.
After Auroraes blush the sunne arose,
And spread his beames:
With whose cleare gleames
My pricklesse rose-bud vaild his purple leaues,
In whose sweet fouldes, morning did pearles inclose,
Where sunne his beames in Orblike circle weaues,
And them t'inrich stoule those,
Natures bewtie, Phoebus vertue, loues incense:
Whose fauour, sappe, and sauour my sence reaues.
My muse hath these for theames,
They to my muse, my muse to them defence,
Phoebus (sometimes) loues oracles sendes thence.
Thus by my sunne a rose,
(Though a sweet rose pricklesse)
Pricklesse arose, deare prickle!
Which me diseaseth much, though I be sicklesse,
[Page 69] Nought me of ioy bereaues,
Saue fauour, sappe, and sauour all be fickle.
Blush not for shame, that thy sunne spreades his beames
My soule in sunder cleaues:
After Auroraes blush, the sunne arose.
MADRIGALL 19.
Thy loues conceites are wounde about mine hart,
Thy loue it selfe within mine hart a wounde:
Thy torches all arow sticke,
Which thy sweet grace about mine hart hath bounde:
There gleaming arrowes sticke in euery part,
Which vnto my marrow pricke.
Thy bewties fancie, to mine hart is thrall,
Mine hart, thy beauties thrall is founde:
And thou mine hart a bulwarcke art,
Conquer'd with bewtie, batter'd to the grounde.
And yet though conquer'd will not yeeld at all,
For in that conflict though I fall,
Yet I my selfe a conquerer repute:
In fight continuall, like victorious mart,
Yet euer yeeld, as euer ouerthrowne.
To be still prisoner is my suite,
I will be still thy captiue knowne:
Such pleasing seruitude,
Victorious conquest is, and fortitude.
MADRIGALL 20.
My loue alas is sicke, fye enuious sicknesse!
That at her brest where rest all ioyes, and ease,
[Page 70] Thou shouldst take such dispight, her to displease,
In whom, all vertues health hath quicknesse:
Thou durst not come in liuing licknesse,
For hadst thou come, thou couldst not her disease,
Her bewtie would not let the prease.
Sweet graces (which continually attend her)
At her short breath, breathe short, and sigh so deepe,
Which sicknesses sharpe furies might appease:
Both loues, and graces striue to mende her.
Oh neuer let me rest, but sigh, and weepe:
Neuer but weepe, and sigh, sicke is my loue,
And I loue-sicke, yet Phisicke may befrend her,
But what shall my disease remoue?
SONNET CIII.
I slep't, when (vnderneath a laurell shade,
My face vprear'd aloft vnto the heauen)
Me thought I heard this spoken in a sueauen,
Nature on earth loues miracle hath made:
With this, me thought vpon a bancke was lade
An earthly body, which was fram'd in heauen,
To whom such graces, by the graces giuen
Sweet musicke in their seuerall orgaynes play'de:
In cheefe the silent musicke of her eye,
Softly recorded with heauens harmonie,
Drew downe Vrania from Coelestiall sphoere:
Who maz'd, at mazy turning of her eyne
(To make diuine perfection) glazed theare
Those eyes with clearest substance christalline
MADRIGALL 21.
When this coelestiall goddesse had indew'de
Her eyes with Sphoericke reuolution,
Vesta with her next guift ensew'de,
And lent to nature that thrise-sacred fier,
To which once Iaphets of-spring did aspier:
Which made a dissolution
Of a straunge ore, ingendred by the sunne
In grace, and worth more pure then goulde:
Which (gainst the Cyprian triūphes should be donne)
Guilded those wheeles, which Cupids' chariot rowl'de.
MADRIGALL 22.
In centre of these starres of loue,
(Boue all conceites in mans capacitie)
An Orientiet which did not moue,
To Cupids chariot wheele made for the naffe,
Was fixt, which could with mylde rapacitie
Of lighter louers, draw the lighter chaffe:
This, shadow giues to clearer light,
In which as in a myrroulde there was framed,
(For those which loues conditions treate vpon)
A glasse, which should giue semblance right
Of all their Phisnomies impassionate.
Those harts (which tyrant loue doth beate vpon)
May there behold, what Cupid workes,
Yeelding in it, that figure fashionate
Which in the iettie myrrour lurkes.
MADRIGALL 23.
Phoebus, rich father of eternall light,
And in his hand a wreath of Heliochrise
He brought, to bewtifie those tresses:
Whose trayne, whose softnesse, and whose glosse more bright
Apolloes lockes did ouerprise:
Thus with this gyrland, whiles her browes he blesses,
The golden shadow, with his tincture
Colour'd her lockes, I guilded with the cyncture.
MADRIGALL 24.
Thus, as she was boue humaine glorie graced,
The saint me thought departed,
And suddenly vpon her feete she started,
Iuno beheld, and fayne would haue defaced
That femall miracle, proude natures wonder,
Least Ioue through heauens cleare windowes should espie her,
And for her bewtie, Iunoes loue neglect:
Downe she discendes, and as she walked by her
A braunche of lilyes Iuno teares in sonder.
Then from her Sphoere, did Venus downe reflect,
Least Mars by chance her bewtie should affect,
And with a braunche of Roses
She bet vpon her face, then Iuno closes,
And with white lillyes did her bewtie chasten.
But louely graces in memoriall,
Let both the Rose, and lillyes colours fall
Within her cheekes, which to be formost hasten.
MADRIGALL 25.
Whiles these two wrathfull goddesses did rage,
The little god of might,
(Such as might fitter seeme with craynes to fight,
Then with his bow to vanquish goddes, and kinges)
In a cherry-tree fate smiling;
And lightly wauing with his motley winges)
Fayre winges, in bewtie boyes, and gyrles beguiling,
And cherry garlandes with his handes compiling
Laughing, he leaped light
Vnto the Nymphe, to try which way best might
Her cheare, and with a cherry braunche her bobbed:
But her soft louely lippes
The cherryes, of their ruddie rubye robbed:
Eftsoones he to his quiuer skippes,
And bringes those bottles whence his mother sippes
Her nectar of delight,
Which in her bosome clamed place by right.
MADRIGALL 26.
I dare not speake of that thrise holy hill,
Which spread with siluer lillyes lyes,
Nor of those violettes, which voy de vaynes fulfill,
Nor of that maze on loues hill toppe,
These secrets must not be surueyde with eyes,
No creature may those flowers croppe,
Nor bath in that cleare fountaine.
Where none but Phoebe, with chast virgines wash,
[Page 74] In bottome of that sacred mountaine:
But whether now? thy verses ouerlash.
SESTINE 1.
When I waked out of dreaming,
Looking all about the garden,
Sweete Parthenophe was walking:
Oh what fortune brought her hether!
She much fayrer then that Nymphe.
Which was bet with rose and lillyes.
Her cheekes exceede the rose and lillyes,
I was fortunate in dreaming,
Of so bewtifull a Nymphe:
To this happie blessed garden
Come you Nymphes, come fayries hether,
Wonder natures wonder walking:
So she seemed in her walking,
As she would make rose, and lillyes
Euer florish, oh but hether
Harke (for I beheld it dreaming)
Lillyes blush't within the garden,
Staind with bewties of that Nymphe.
The Rose for anger at that Nymphe
Was pale, and (as she went on walking)
When she gathred in the garden,
Teares came from the rose and lillyes:
As the sigh'd, their breath in dreaming
I could well perceiue it hether.
When Parthenophe came hether,
At the presence of that Nymphe,
(That hill was heauen where I lay dreaming)
[Page 75] But when I had espye'd her walking,
And in hand her rose, and lillyes
As sacrifice giuen by that garden,
(To loue stood sacred that fayre garden)
I dar'd the Nymphes to hasten hether:
Make homage to the rose, and lillyes
Which are sacred to my Nymphe:
Wonder when you see her walking.
Might I see her but in dreaming,
Euen the fancie of that Nymphe,
Would make me night, and day come hether
To sleepe in this thrise happie garden.
SONNET CIIII.
Hold (matchlesse myrrour of all womankinde)
These pennes, and Sonnettes, seruaunts of thy prayse,
Plac'd in a world of graces, which amayse
All young beholders, through desier blinde:
Thou to whom conquered Cupid hath resign'd
His bowes, and dartes during thy sunnie dayes,
Through thine eyes force infeebled by the rayes
Which wondrers to their cost in thine eyes finde.
That there with bewties excellence vnable
To write, or beare, my pennes, and bookes refuse,
Thine endlesse graces are so amiable,
Passing the spirite of myne humble muse,
So that the more I write more graces rise
Which myne astonish't muse cannot comprise.
FINIS.
ELEGIES
ELEGIE I.
WHy did the milke which first, Alcides nurrish't
(Ingendring with Cybele) breede the lillye?
Th' Assiriā hunters bloud why hath it florish't
The rose with red? why did the Daffadillye
Spring from Narcissus selfe conceited loue?
Why did great Ioue (for the Paeneian cowe)
Deuise the marble colour'd vyolet?
Or what for Phoebus loue, from mountaines hyllye
Did Hyacinthe to rosie blushes moue?
Since my sweet mystresse vnder Phoebes browe,
'unoes and fayre Adonis flowers hath set:
Adowne her necke Narcissus golde doth bowe,
Ioes gray violettes in her Christall lightes,
Th'Oebalian boyes complection still alightes
Vpon her Hyacinthine lippes like Rubye:
And with loues purest sanguine Cupid writes
The prayse of bewtie through the vaynes which blew bee,
Conducted through loues sluice to thy face rosie,
Where doues, and redbrestes sit for Venus rightes:
In signe that I to the will euer true bee,
The rose, and lillyes adorne my p [...]asie:
The vyolettes, and Hyacinthe shall knitte
With Daphadill, which shall embellish it
Such heauenly flowers in earthly poases few bee.
ELEGIE II.
Oh that some time thou saw myne endlesse fittes,
When I haue somewhat of thy bewtte pondred!
Thou could not be perswaded that my wittes
Could once retire so farre from sence asondred,
Furies them selues haue at my passions wondred,
Yet thou (Parthenophe) well pleased sittes
Whilst in me so thy moystures heate hath thondred,
And thine eyes dartes at euery colon hittes
My soule with double prickes which myne hart splittes.
Whose faintyng breath with sighing commaes broken
Drawes on the sentence of my death by pawses:
Euer prolonging out myne endlesse clauses
With iffs Parenthesis, yet finde no token
When with my greefe, I should stand euen or odde:
My life still making preparations
Through thy loues dartes to beare the periodde,
Yet stumbleth on Interrogations.
These are those scholler like vexations
Which greeue me when those studies I applye.
I misse my lesson still, but with loues rodde
For each small accent sounded but awrye
Am I tormented, yet I can not dye.
ELEGIE III.
Sweet thralldome by loues sweet impression wrought,
Loues in that bondage euer let me liue,
For loue hath brought me bondslaue with a thought
And to my thoughtes loue did me bondman giue.
Ah me my thoughtes poore prisoner shall I rest?
And shall my thoughtes make triumph ouer mee?
First to fierce famish't Lyons stand adrest,
Or let hage rockes, and mountaines couer thee.
Behold, one to his fancies made a praye,
A poore Actaeon with his houndes deuour'd,
An oke with his greene Iuy worne awaye,
A. wretchconsum' with plenties great downe powr'd:
A garment with his moath, dispoyl'd, and rotten:
A thorne with his bred Caterpiller cancerd,
A buried Caesar, with his fame forgotten,
A friend betrayd by those on whom he ancer'd,
Behold a fire consum'd with his owne heate,
An iron worne away with his owne rust,
But weare myne hart of oke, this rage would eate
Still fresh as Iuy myne hard oke to dust,
And were my pleasures durable as steele,
Dispaire would force they should times cancor feele.
ELEGIE IIII.
This day sweet mistresse you to me did write,
(When for so many lynes I begg'd reply all)
That from all hope you would not barre me quite,
Nor graunt plaine placet, nor giue dead denyall:
But in my chamber-window (while I read it)
A waspish bee flew round about me [...]uzzing,
With fulfill'd flankes, when my tymes flower had fed it
(Which there lay strew'd) and in my necke with huzzing
She fixt her sting, then did I take her out
And in my window left her where she died:
My necke still smartes, and swelleth round about
By which her wrathes deare ransome may be tryed
A myrrour to (thee Lady) which I send
In this small schoede, with commendations tyed
Who (though the sting and anguish stay with mee)
Yet for reuenge saw his vnluckie ende)
Then note th'example of this haplesse bee,
And when to me thou doest thy sting intende.
Feare some such punishment should chance to thee.
ELEGIE V. To Parthenophil.
Are you so waspish, that from time, to time
You nurrish bees and to so good an ende,
That hauing suck't your honnie they must clyme
Into your bosome, to bethanke their frend:
And for a signe, that they come to defend
Reward you with such weapons as they haue:
Nor was it more then your desartes did craue
Not much vnlike vnto the Vipers yongling,
Who nurrish't with the breeders dearest bloud
Snarles with his teeth, nor can endure the bongling
Within the Vipers belly, but makes food
Of her, thus nature worketh in her brood:
So you (forsooth) nor was it much amisse,
Feede snakes which thankefully both sting, and hisse.
But if that any of our sexe did sting you,
Know this (moreouer) though you beare the pricke,
And though their frownes to melancholie bring you
Yet are we seldome, or else neuer sicke:
Nor do we dye like bees, but still be quicke
And soone recouering what we lost before,
We sting apace, yet still keepe stinges in store.
ELEGIE VI.
Behold these teares my loues true tribute payment,
These plaintiffe Elegies my greefes bewrayers,
Acoutred as is meete in mournefull rayment:
My red-swolne eyne, which were mine harts betrayers.
And yet my rebell eye excuse prepaires
That he was neuer worker of my wayment,
Plaining my thoughtes, that my confusion they ment:
VVhich thoughtes with sighes (for incense) make dumme prayers,
T'appease the furies in my martyr'd brest,
VVhich witnesse my true loues, in long lament,
And with what agonies I am possest.
Ah me poore man, where shall I finde some rest!
Not in thine eyes with promise fearefull hope,
Thine hart hath vow'd I shall be still distrest,
To rest within thine hart there is no scope.
All other places, made for bodies ease
As bed, field, forrest, and a quiet chamber,
There euer am I with sad cares opprest,
Each pleasaunt spectacle doth me displease,
Greefe, and dispaire so sore on me did sease
That day with tediousnesse doth me molest
And (Phoebe carryed in her coach of Amber)
[Page 80] Can not close vp the fountaines of my woe:
Thus dayes from nightes my charg'd hart doth not know,
Nor nightes from dayes, all howers to sorrowes goe:
Then punish fancie, cause of thy disease.
ELEGIE VII.
Youth full of errour, whether doest thou hayle me?
Downe to the dungeon of myne owne conceite:
Let me before take some deuine receite,
For will I know my gaoler will not bayle me:
Then if thou fauour not, all helpes will fayle me,
That fearefull dungeon poysoned with dispaire
Affordes no casement to receaue sweet ayer,
There ougly visions euer will apayle me
Vayne youth misguideth soone with loues deceite
Deeming false painted lookes most firmely fayre.
Now to remorselesse indges must I sewe
For gracious pardon, whiles they do repeate
Your bold presumption, threatning me with you:
Yet am I innocent, though none bewayle me.
Ah pardon, pardon, childish youth did vew
Those two forbidden apples which they wish't for,
And children long for that with once the rew.
Suffice he found repentance which he fish't for
With great expence of bates, and golden hookes.
Those liuing apples do the suite pursue
And are you Iudges, see their angry lookes
VVhere vnderneath that wrath-full Canopie
The vse to open their condemning bookes:
Expect now nothing but extremitie,
Since they be Iudges, and in their owne cause.
Their sightes are fixte on nought but crueltie,
Ruling with rigour (as they list) their lawes
Oh graunt some pittie, plac'd in pitties h [...]ll!
Since our forefather for the like offence
With vs receiu'd sufficient recompence,
For two fayre apples, which procur'd his fall:
ELEGIE VIII.
Cease sorrow, cease, oh cease thy rage alittle,
Ah litle ease, oh graunt some little ease:
Oh fortune euer constante, neuer brittle!
For as thou gan so doest thou still displease.
Ah ceaselesse sorrow, take some truice with mee,
Remorselesse tyrantes, sometime will take peace
(Vpon conditions) and I'le take of thee
Conditions, so thou wilt thy furie cease.
And deare conditions, for to forfect life
So thou wilt ende thy plagues, and vexe no more.
But out alas! he will not cease his strife
Least he should loose his priuiledge before:
For were I dead, my sorrowes rule were nought,
And whiles I liue, he like a tyrant rageth:
Ah rage fierce tyrant, for this greefe is wrought
By loue thy counsell which my minde ingageth.
To thy fierce thralldome, whiles he spoyles myne hart,
So be my minde, and hart imprisoned fast
To two fierce tyrantes, which this empyer part.
Oh mylder goddes shall this for euer last,
If that I haue these bitter plagues deseru'de,
Yet let repentance which my soule doth melt
Obtaine some fauour, if you be not sueru'de
[Page 82] From lawes of mercy, know what plagues I felt.
Yea but I doubt inchantment in my brest,
For neuer man, so much agreeu'd as I
Could liue with ceaselesse sorrowes weight opprest,
But twentie thousand times perforce should dye:
And with her eyes she did bewitche mine hart,
Which lettes it liue, but feele an endlesse smart.
ELEGIE IX.
With humble suite vpon my bended knee,
(Though absent farre from hence not to be seene)
Yet in thy power still present as goddes bee
I speake these wordes, whose bleeding woundes be greene,
To thee drad Cupid, and thy mother Queene:
If it at any time hath lawfull beene
Men mortall to speake with adietie,
Oh you great guiders of yong springing age,
VVhose power immortall euer was I weene
(As mightie as your spatious Monarchie)
Oh spare me, spare my tedious pilgrimage!
Take hence the least brand of your extreame fiers,
Do not gainst those (which yeelde) fierce battell wage:
I know by this, you will alaye your rage,
That you giue life vnto my long desiers,
VVhich still persuades me, you will pittie take:
Life is farre more, then my vext soule desiers:
Oh take my life, and after death torment mee,
Then (though in absence of my cheefe delight)
I shall lament alone, my soule requires,
And longes to visite sweet Elizian fieldes:
Then that I lou'd it neuer shall repent me,
[Page 83] There (till those dayes of Iubile shall comme)
VVould I walke pensiue, pleas'd, alone and dumme:
Graunt this petition sweet loues Queene which weeldes
The hart of forlorne louers euermore:
Or else Zanclaean Charibd me deuoure,
And through his waters sent to Stigian power,
Or patient let me burne in Aetnaes flame:
Or fling my selfe in furie from the shore
Into deepe waues of the Lancadean god,
Rather then beare this tumulte and vproare,
And through your meanes be scourg'd with mine owne rod:
Oh let me dye, and not endure the same:
The suite I make, is to be punish't still,
Nor would I wish not to be wretched there,
But that I might remaine in hope, and feare:
Sweet louely saintes, let my suite like your will.
ELEGIE X.
In quiet silence of the shadie night,
All places free from noyse of men, and dogges,
When Phoebe caried in her chariot bright
Had clear'd the mistie vapours, and night fogges:
Then (when no care the quiet shepheard clogges,
Hauing his flocke safe fodder'd in the fould)
A liuely vision to my fancies sight
Appear'd, which me thought wake I did behould,
A fierie boye, outmatching the moone light,
VVho softly wispering in mine eare, had tould
There thou thy fayre Parthenophe may see:
I quickly turning, in an hebene bedde,
VVith sable couering and blacke curtanes spredde,
[Page 84] VVith many little loues in blacke by thee,
Thee thee Parthenophe left almost dedde
(Paile cold, with feare) I did behold ay mee!
Ah me! left almost sencelesse in my bed:
My groanes perceiu'd by those which neare me lay,
By them with much ado recouered:
VVhich fearefull vision so did me afray
That (in a furie set beside my witte)
Sicke as before, me thought I saw thee yitt:
Venus thy face there couered with a vayle,
Mine hart with horror chilles, to thinke on it:
The graces kist thy lippes and went away.
Then I with furious raging did assaile
To kisse thee, least thou should depart before,
And then (in sight of those which there did stand)
Thinking that I should neuer see thee more,
Mistaking thee, I kist a fire-brande:
Burnt with the fire (my sences which did fayle
Freshly recall'd into their wittes againe)
I found it was a dreame, but sweet expound it,
For that strange dreame, with teares renewes my paine,
And I shall neuer rest, till I haue found it.
ELEGIE XI.
VVas it decreed by fates too certaine doome,
That vnder Cancer's Tropique (where the Sunne
Still doth his race in hottest circuite runne)
My minde should dwell, and in none other roome,
Where comfortes all be burnt, before the bloome?
Was it concluded (by remorse-lesse fate)
That vnder-neath Th'Erimanthian beare,
[Page 85] Beneath the Lycaonian Axel-tree,
(Where ceaselesse snowes and frostes extremitie
Hold Iurisdiction) should remaine my feare,
VVhere all mine hopes be nip'te, before the beare?
VVas it thus ordred that (till my deathes date)
VVhen Phoebus runnes on our Meridian lyne,
VVhen mistes fall downe beneath our Hemi-sphoere,
And Cynthia with darke Antipod's doth shine,
That my dispaier should hold his mansion there?
Where did the fatall sisters this assigne?
Euen when this Iudgement to them was awarded,
The silent sentence issew'd from her eyne,
Which neither pittie, nor my cares regarded.
ELEGIE XII.
Oh neuer can I see that sunnie light,
That bright chntriuer of my fierie rage,
Those precious golden apples shinning hright,
But out alas, me thinckes some fearefull sight
Should battell with the deare beholders wage.
I feare such pretious thinges should haue some force
Them to preserue, lest some beholders might
Procure those precious apples by their slight:
Then cruell Atlas banisht from remorse
Enters my thoughtes, and how he fear'de away.
The poore inhabitantes which dwelt about
(Least some af his rich fruite should make a pray)
Although the Orchard, circummur'de throughout
With walles of steele was, and a vigil stoute
Of watchfull Dragons guarded euery where,
Which bold attemptors vext with hot pursuite,
[Page 86] So that none durst approch his fruite for feare.
Thus (Atlas-like) thine hart hath Dragons set
Tyrannous hatred, and a proud disdaine,
Which in that Orchard cruellie did raine,
And with much rigour rule thy louely eyes,
Immur'd in steelie walles of chaste desier,
Which entrance to poore passengers denyes,
And deathes high daunger to them that requier:
And euen as Atlas (through fierce crueltie
And breache to lawes of hospitalitie
When lodging to a straunger he denied)
Was turned to a stonie mountaine straight,
Which on his shoulders now support's heauens waight,
A iust reuenge for crueltie and pride:
Euen so, thine hart (for inhumanitie,
And wrath to those that thine eyes apples loue,
And that it will not lodge a louely guest)
Is turn'd to rocke, and doth the burthen beare
Of thousand zealous louers deare complaintes:
Whom thou with thy fierce crueltie di [...]st teare,
An huge hard rocke, which none can euer moue
And of whose fruite, no man can be possest:
Thy golden smiles make none attemp'ts to deare,
But when attempted once those apples bee,
The vayne attemptour, after feeles the smart:
Who by thy Dragons, hatred, and disdaine
Are torne in sonder, with extremitie:
For hauing entred, no man can get forth
(So those inchaunting apples hinder thee)
Of such deare prize, be things of such rare worth.
But euen as Perseus, Ioues thrise valiant sonne
(Begot of Danae in a golden shower)
[Page 87] Huge Atlas conquer'd, when he first begonne:
Then kill' [...] [...]he Dragons with his matchlesse power,
At length the bewteous golden apples wonne:
So right is he borne in a golden hower,
(And for his fortune may from Ioue discend)
Who first thine hart an Atlas hath subdue'd,
Next, hatred, and disdaine brought to their end
Fierce Dragons, which attemptours all purseu'de,
And which before, none euer haue eschew'de:
At length, who shall these golden apples gaine,
He shall alone, be Perseus for his paine.
ELEGIE XIII.
Swift Atalanta (when she lost the prise
By gathering golden apples in her race)
Shewes how by th'apples of thine heauenly eyes,
(Which fortune did hefore my passage place
When for mine hartes contentement I did runne)
How I was hindred, and my wager lost:
When others did the wagers worth surprise
I vew'de thine eyes, thus eyes vew'de to my cost,
Nor could I them enioy when all was donne,
But seeming (as they did) bright as the Sunne,
My course I stayd, to vewe their fierie grace,
Whose sweet possession I could not comprise:
Th' Idaean shepheard (when the strise begunne
Amongst three goddesses) as Iudge decreede,
The golden apple Venus did awarde,
Cause of the wast, and downefall of proud Troye:
But when the graces had a sweet regard
How fayre Parthenophe did her exceede,
[Page 88] And Venus now was from the world debarr'd
One so much fayrer farre, as to much coye,
Parthenophe the chose in Venus fleede,
And since her bewtie Venus did out goe
Two golden apples were to her assigned:
Which apples all th'outrageous tumultes breede
That are hep'd vp in my distressed minde.
Whose figure in enflamed Troye I finde,
The cheefe occasion of mine endlesse woe.
ELEGIE XIIII.
When I remember that accursed night,
When my deare bewtie said she must depart,
And the next morning leaue the Cities sight:
Ah then, euen then blacke sorrow shew'de his might,
And plac'd his empyer in my vanquish't hart:
Mine hart still vanquish't, yet assaulted still,
Burnt with loues out-rage, from whose cleare torch light
Fierce sorrow findes, a way to spoile, and kill.
Ah sorrow, sorrow, neuer satisfied!
And if not satisfied, worke on thy will:
Oh deare departure of mine onely blisse!
When willing, from the Citie thou did ryde,
And I made offer (tho then wounded wyde)
To go with thee, thou rashly didst refuse
With me distrest to be accompanied:
And binding wordes (imperious) did'st vse
Commaunding me an other way to chuse.
Ah then, euen then in spirite crucified,
Mine eyes with teares, mine hart with sighes, and throbbes:
Those almost blind, that hard swoln [...] almost burst,
My braynes abiuring harbour to my muse,
Did leaue [...]hoaked almost with straite sobbes,
Ah be that hower, and day for euer curst
Which me of my lifes libertie did robbe:
For since that time I neuer saw my loue,
Long can we not be seuer'd, I will follow
Through woods, through mountaines, waues, and caues made hollow
Oh greefe, of greefes extremitie the worst!
Still will I follow, till I finde thee out:
And if my wish with trauell will not proue,
Yet shall my sorrowes trauell round about
In wailefull Elegies, and mournefull verse
Vntill they finde, and thee with pittie perce:
Meane while to see thee more standing in doubt.
I'le sing my plaine-song with the Turtle doue;
And prick-song with the Nighting all rehearse.
ELEGIE XV.
Oh deare remembraunce of my Ladyes eyes
In minde whose reuolutions I reuolue!
To you mine harts bright guid-starres, my soule cryes
Vpon some happy sentence to resolue:
A sentence either of my life, or death,
So bale me from the dungeon of dispaire,
On you I cry with interrupted breathe,
On you, and none but you to crosse my care:
My care to crosse, least I be crucified
Aboue the patience of an humaine soule,
Do this, Ah this, and still be glorified:
Do this, and let eternities enroule
Thy fame, and name, let them enroule for euer
[Page 90] In lasting recordes of still lasting steele:
Do this, ah this and famous still perseuer,
Which in another age thy ghost shall feele.
Yet (howsoeuer thou with me shall deale)
Thy bewtie shall perseuer in my verse:
And thine eyes wounde, which thine hart would not heale:
And my complaintes, which could not thine hart perce:
And thine hard hart, thy bewties shamefull staine:
And that fowle staine, thine endlesse infamie:
So (though thou still in recorde do remaine)
The recordes reckon but thine obloquie,
When on the paper (which my passionbeares)
Relenting readers (for my sake) shed teares.
ELEGIE XVI.
Ah were my teares (as many writers bee)
Meere droppes of incke proceeding from my penne,
Then in these sable weedes you should not see
Me seuer'd from societie of men:
Ah me all colours do mine eyes displease,
Saue those two colours, of pure white, and redde,
And yet I dare not florish it in these,
Because I can not, for my colour's dead.
Those colours florish round about each where,
But cheefely with my mistresse in their kinde,
And fayne I would her louely colours weare
So that it might be pleasing to her minde:
But nought will please her ouer-cruell eye,
But blacke, and payle on body, and in face:
Then she triumphes in bewties tyrannie,
When she sees bewtie, bewtie can disgrace.
When her sweet smiling eyes, drye Vest [...]es throane,
Can blubber'd bleare-eyes drowne in seaes of teares:
And laughes to here poore louers how they moane,
Ioyes in the paper which her prayses beares,
And (for his sake that sent) that schoedule teares:
What but pale enuie doth her hart assaile)
When she would be still fayre, add laugh alone,
And (for her sake) all other's mourne, and paile.
ELEGIE XVII.
Deare mistresse then my soule to me much dearer,
Wonder not that another writes my letter:
For sorrow still mine hart oppresseth nearer,
And extreame sicknesse doth my sinewes fetter.
Of my deare life to thy loue am I debter.
Thine is my soule, then soule what can be meerer:
Thine my cheefe best, then that what can better?
Absented farre, and (that which is farre worse)
Vnable either for to goe, or ryde,
Here am I in perpetuall bondage tyed,
Then if with saluage Sauromates, farre worse:
This ayer is loath some, and this ayer I curse,
Because with thy sweet breathe it is not blest.
Though hot, coole waters I can not abide
(Since the which thy cleare eyes as all the rest)
Be not (as they sometimes were) purified.
The ground (I tread) my footing doth infest:
Because it is not hallowed with thy feete.
I loath all meate, for all meate is vnmeete
Which is not eaten, where thy sweet selfe feedest.
Nothing is pleasaunt, louely, rich, or sweete,
[Page 92] Which doth not with his grace thy bewtie greete:
Ah too deare absence which this sicknesse breedest,
Of thy deare sweet, which can not be too deare.
Yet if thou wilt voutch-safe my life to saue
Write but one lyne, one lyne my life will cheare:
The ransome of my life thy name will pay,
And I be freede from my much doubtfull feare.
ELEGIE XVIII.
If neither loue, nor pittie can procure
Thy ruthlesse hart subscribe to my content:
But if thou vow that I shall still endure
This doubtfull feare which euer doth torment.
If to thine eyes thine hart can lend a fier,
Whiles could disdaine vpon them settes a locke:
To barre forth pittie which kinde harts desier,
Whiles the distrest make prayers to a rocke.
If that thine eyes send out a sunnie smile,
From vnderneath a cloudie frowne of hate:
Plaine loue with counterfeasance to beguile,
Which at thy windowes for some grace awate.
If thou thine eares can open to thy prayse,
And them with that report delighted, cherish:
And shut them, when the passionate assayes,
To pleade for pittie, then about to perish.
If thou canst cherish graces in thy cheeke,
For men to wonder at, which thee behold:
And they finde furies, when thine hart they see [...]e,
And yet proue such, as are extreamely cold.
Now as I finde, no thought to mans conceipt,
Then must I sweare, to womans no deceit.
ELEGIE XIX.
Deare sorrow giue me leaue to breathe a while,
A little leaue to take a longer breath:
Whose easie passage still thou doest beguile
Choak'd vp with sighes, proclamers of my death.
Oh let the teares of euer-thirstie eyes.
Returne backe to the channells of mine hart!
They to my sight be vowed enemies,
And made a trayterous league not to depart,
Vnder the colour of tormenting those
Which were first causers of mine harts distresse,
And closely with mine hart by guile did close
Through blinding them to make my torment lesse.
Oh let those fearefull thoughtes which still oppresse me
Turne to the dungeon of my troubled brayne!
Dispaire t'accompanie, which doth possesse me,
And with his venome poisoneth euery vayne:
Ouglie dispaire, who with blacke force assaultes
Me vanquisht with conceipt, and makes me dwell
With horrour, match't in melancholies vaultes:
Where I lye burning in my fancies hell.
Oh thou drad ruler of my sorrowes rage,
Of thee, and none but thee I begge remorse
VVith thy sweet breath thou may my sighes asswage,
And make my sorrowes fountaines stay their course,
And banish blacke dispaire, then helpe me now:
Or know, death can do this, as well as thou.
ELEGIE XX.
Oh deare vexation of my troubled soule
My life with greefe when wilt thou consummate?
The deare remembrance of my passing soule,
Mine hart with some restes hope doth animate:
How many haue those conquering eyes subdued?
How many vanquish't captiues to thine hart!
Hard-iron harted Captaines when they vew'de
VVere drawne, till they were wounded with thy dart.
Oh when I there heard bodies haue beheld,
Their martiall stomaches, and oft wounded face:
Which bitter tumultes, and garboyles foretell'd,
In which, it seem'd they founde no cowardes place
Then I recall'd how farre loues power exceedes
Aboue the bloudie menace of rough warre:
Where euery wounded hart, close inward bleedes
And soddeine perc'd, with twinckling of a starre.
Then (when such iron harted Captaines bee
To thine harts bulwarke forced for to trye
Which way to winne that fort by batterye:
And how all conquerours their conquer'd lye)
Me thinkes, thine hart, or else thine eyes be made
(Because they can such iron obiectes force)
Of hardest Adamante, that men (which lade
Continuall siege) be thrall'd without remorse:
Thine hart of Adamant, because it takes
The hardest harts drawne prisoners, vnto t [...]e,
Thine eye because, it wonded many makes,
Yet no transpercing beames can pearce those eyne:
Thine hart of Adamant, which none can wound:
[Page 95] Thine eye of Adamant, vnperced found.
ELEGIE XXI.
Happie depart with speede, then me more fortunate euer
Poore letter go thy wayes, vnto my sweet Ladyes hands:
She shall looke on thee, and then with her bewtifull eyes blesse:
Smiling eyes (perhaps thee to delight with a glaunce)
She shall cast on a lyne (if a lyne there pleaseth her humour)
But if a lyne displease, then shall apeare in a frowne,
How much she dislikes thy loues, and saucie salutings:
O my lifes sweet light, know that a frowne of thine eye
Can transpearce to my soule more swift then a Parthian arrow,
And more deepely wound then any launce, or a speare:
But thy sweet smiles can procure such contrary mot'ions,
Which can alone that heale, wounded afore by thine eyes:
Like to the launces rust which heal'de whome warlike Achilles
(With right hand valiant) doughtilye wounded afore.
Not vnlike to the men, whose greefe the Scorpion helpeth
(Whom he before did sting) ready to dye thorow paine:
Thou that bewtie procures to be thy chastities hand mayde,
With vertues regiment glorious ordred alone:
Thou that those smooth browes, like plates of Iuory plained
(When any looke on them) canst make apeare like a cloude:
Thou that those cleare eyes (whose light surpasseth a stars light,
Canst make loues flames shoote, with cruel anger abroad:
Thou that those fayre cheekes (when a man thy bewtie beholdeth)
Deepely to wound canst make, sweetely to blush like a rose.
Make thy browes (to delight mine hart) smooth shadow thy cleare eyes:
Whose smile is to my soule like to the sunne frō a cloude
When he shines to the world in most pride after a tempest,
And with his heate prouokes all the delightes of the ground.
[Page 96] Graunt me sweet Lady this, this graunt, kinde pittie requesteth
Teares and sighes make asuite, pittie me, pittie my suite:
Thus to thy sweet graces will I leaue my drcerye bewaylings,
And to thy gracious hart, I recomend my lamentes:
Thrise blessed go thy way, to my deare go thrise speedie letter,
And for me kisse them, since I may not kisse her hands.
CANZON 1.
All bewties farre perfections rest in thee,
And sweetest, grace of graces
Deckes thy face boue faces:
All vertue takes her glorie from thy minde:
The muses in thy wittes haue their places,
And in thy thoughtes all mercies bee:
Thine hart from all hardnesse free:
An holy place in thy thoughtes holinesse doth finde:
In fauorable speech kinde:
A sacred tongue, and eloquent:
Action sweet, and excellent:
Musique it selfe in ioyntes of her fayre fingers is:
She chauntresse of singers is:
Her plighted faith, is firme, and permanent.
O now, now, helpe, wilt thou take some compassion?
She thinkes I flatter, writing on this fashion.
Thy bewtie past, with misorder stayned is.
In thee no graces finde rest:
In thoe (who sought it) saw lest.
And all thy thoughtes be vayne, and vicious:
Thy braynes with heauie dullnesse are opprest.
Of thee no mercy gayned is,
[Page 97] Thine hart hard, and fayned is.
Aminde prophane, and of the worst suspicious:
In speech not delicious:
Atoung ty'de which cannot vtter,
Gesture lame, like wordes which stutter:
Thy hands, and minde vnap'te in musique to reioyce:
For songes vnfitte, an hoarse voyce:
Thy faith vnconstant, whatsoeuer thou mutter.
Be gracious, no, she thinckes my wordes be bitter,
Through my misfortunes, they for my selfe be fitter.
O'h how long, how long shall I be distrest?
How long in vayne, shall I moane?
How long in payne, shall I groane?
How long shall I bathe in continuall teares?
How long shall I sit sad, and sigh alone?
How long shall feare discomfort giue?
How long shall hopes let me liue?
How long shall I lye bounde in dispaires, and feares?
VVith sorrow still my hart weares,
my sundry fancies subdue me,
Thine eyes kill me, when they vew me:
VVhen thou speakes with my soule thy voyce musique maketh,
And soules from silence waketh.
Thy browes smiles quicken me, whose frownes slew me,
Then fayre sweet behold, see me poore wretch in torment,
Thou perceiuest well, but thine hart will not relent.
Mine eyes and sleepe, be fierce prosessed foes:
Much care and teares did make it,
Nor yet will they forsake it.
But they will vexe my braynes, and troubled eyes:
[Page 98] If any sorrow sleepe, they will wake it.
Still sighing mine hart ouerthrowes,
Yet art thou cause of these woes.
But what anayles if I make to the deafe such horrible outcryes?
She heares not my miseries,
O sorrow sorrow cease a while!
Let her but looke on me, and smile,
And from me for a time thou shalt be banished,
My comfortes are vanished:
Nor hope, nor time, my sorrowes can beguile,
Yet cease I not to cry for mercy, vexed thus:
But thou wilt not releeue vs, which perplexed vs.
Ah would thou set some limites to my woes,
That after such a time set,
(As penance to some crime set)
Forbearance through sweet hope I might endure:
But as byrd (caught in the fowler's lyme set)
No meanes for his libertie knowes,
Me such dispaire ouergoes,
That I can finde no comfortable hope of cure:
Then since nothing can procure
My sweet comfort, by thy kindnesse,
Arm'd in peace, to beare this blindnesse)
I voluntarily submit to this sorrow;
(As earst) each euen, and morrow:
Can womens harts harbour such vnkindnesse?
Oh relent, relent, and change thy behauiour:
Fowle is the name of tyraunt, sweet of sauiour.
Long to the rockes haue I made my complaintes,
And to the woodes desolate
[Page 99] My plaintes went, early, and late;
To the forsaken mountaines, and riuers:
Yet comfortlesse, and still disconsolate.
Mine hart as it was wonted faintes:
Such small helpe, comes from such saintes.
VVhy should men which in such paine liue, be call'de liuers?
Such arrowes beare loues quiuers,
Now (since rockes, and woodes will not heare,
Nor hilles, and floodes my sorrowes beare,
In founding Ecchoes, and swift waues, the world about)
These papers report it out,
VVhose lasting Chronicles, shall time out-weare.
Then take remorse (deare loue) and to these vnited
Shall be thy mercies, with match-lesse prayse recited.
You happelesse windes, with my sighes infected,
Whose fumes you neuer let rise
To please her with sacrifice:
But euermore ingrosse cloudes them choaked,
So that my deare, could neuer them comprise,
O you (that neuer detected
My plaintes, but them neglected,
VVhich in your murmures brought might haue her prouoked,
VVhen them with cloudes you cloaked)
Know, that a prouder spirite flyes,
Bearing them to posterities,
And layes them open wide, that the world may vew them,
That all which read, may rewe them,
When they shall pearce thine eares, though not thine eyes.
Then sweet fayre, pittie my long seruice, and deutie,
Least thine hard hart be more famous, then thy bewtie.
[Page 100] Then do no longer despise
But with kinde pittie relent thee,
Cease to vexe, and torment mee:
If shames feare moue not, which all discouers,
Feare plague of remorse-lesse louers.
THE FIRST EIDILLION of moschus describing Loue.
Venus, aloude for her sonne [...]
If any spye loue gadding [...]
It is my roage, he that shall him [...]
(For hyer) of Venus shall haue kisses sweete:
But thou that bringes him, shall haue more beside,
Thou shalt not onely kisse, but as guest stay.
By many markes, the boy thou ma [...] [...]ray,
Mongst twentie such (beside) thou shalt perceiue him
Not of a pale complexion, but like fier,
Quicke rowling eyes, and flaming in their gyre,
False hart, sweet wordes, which quickly will deceiue him
To whom he speakes, sweet speech at your desier,
But vexe him, then as any waspe he stingeth:
Lying, and false (if you receaue him)
A craftie lad, and cruell pastimes bringeth.
A fayre curl'de head, and a right waggish face.
His handes are small, yet he shootes farre away,
For euen so farre as Acheron he shooteth,
[Page 101] And to th'infernall monarche, his dartes stray:
Cloathlesse he naked goes in euery place,
And yet to know his thoughtes, it no man booteth,
Swift (as a byrde) he flyes, and quickly footeth
Now to these men, and women now to those,
But yet he sittes, within their very marrow,
A little bow, and in that bow an arrow:
A small flight-shaft, but still to heauen-wardg [...]es,
About his necke a golden dart-barrow,
In which he placeth euery bitter dart,
Which often euen at me he throwes,
All full of crueltie all full of smart.
And yet this thing more wondrous, a small brand
That euen the very sunne it selfe doth burne,
If him thou take, pittilesse lead him bound,
And (if thou chaunce to see him weepe) returne:
Then (least he thee deceaue) his teares withstand,
And if he laugh, draw him along the ground,
If he would kisse, refuse: his lippes confound,
For those alone be poysoned euermore:
But if he say, take, these I giue to thee,
All those my weapons which belong to me,
Tuch them not, when he layes them thee before,
Those giftes of his, all false and fierie be.
FINIS.
ODES PASTORALL.
SESTINE 2.
IN sweetest pride of youthfull may,
Where my poore flockes were wont to stay
About the valleys and high hilles
Which Flora with her glorie filles,
Parthenophil the gentle swayne,
Perplexed with a pleasing payne,
Dispairing how to slake his payne,
To woodes and floodes these wordes did say:
Parthenophe mine harts soueraine,
Why doest thou my delightes delay?
And with thy crosse vnkindnesse killes,
Mine hart bound martyr to thy willes?
But women will haue their owne willes,
Alas why then should I complaine?
Since what she list her hart fulfilles,
I sigh, I weepe, I kneele, I pray,
When I should kisse she runnes away:
Sighes, knees, teares, prayers spent in vayne.
My verses do not please her vayne.
Mine hart weares with continuall thrilles,
[Page 104] His Epilogue about to play,
My sence vnsounde, my wittes in wayne,
I still expect an happie day,
Whilest haruest growes, my winter spilles,
Parthenophe mine haruest spilles.
She robbes my store-house of his grayne:
Alas sweet wenche thy rage allay,
Behold what fountaine still distilles,
Whiles thine heates rage in me doth rayne:
Yet moysture will not his flame stay.
Parthenophe thy surie stay,
Take hence th' occasion of these Illes,
Thou art the cause, but come againe,
Returne, and Floraes pride distaine,
Her lillyes, rose, and daffadilles:
Thy cheekes, and forhead disaray
The rose and lillyes of their grayne.
What swannes can yeelde so many quilles,
As all glories can display.
ODE 1.
WHen I walke forth into the woodes
(With heauie passion to complaine)
I vewe the trees with blushing buddes
Asham'd, or greeued at my paine:
There Amaranthe, with rosie staine
(Me pittying) doth his leaues ingraine.
When I passe pensiue to the shore,
The water byrdes about me flye:
[Page 105] As if the mournde, when riuers roare,
Chyding thy wrathfull crueltie:
Halcion watcheth warily
To chyde thee, when thou commest-by.
If to the Citie I repaier,
Mine eyes thy crueltie betray:
And (those which vew me) finde my cayer:
Swolne eyes, and sorrowes it betray,
Whose figures in my forhead are:
These curse the cause of mine il-fare.
When I go forth to feede my flockes,
As I, so they hang downe their head:
If I complaine to ruthlesse rockes
(For that it seemes hard rockes her bred)
Rockes ruth in riuers may be redde,
Which from those rockes downe-trickled.
When shepheard's would know how I fare,
And aske how doth Parthenophil:
Il Eccho answer's in voy de ayer:
And with these newes each place doth fill.
Poore herdgroomes from each cottage will
Sing my complaintes, on euery hill.
ODE 2.
Speake Eccho tell,
With Lillyes, Columbines, and Roses,
What their Parthenophe, composes? Eccho, poses
Oh sacred smell!
[Page 104] For those (which in her lappe she closes)
The goddes please well.
Speake Eccho tell:
With Daffadilles what doth she plette,
Which in such order she doth sette
For loue to dwell▪
As she should Floraes Chappell let? Eccho, Chapplet
This loue likes well.
Speake Eccho tell:
Why Lillyes, and red Roses like her? Eccho, like her.
No pittie with remorse will strike her,
Did nature well?
Which did from fairest graces pike her
To be mine hell?
Speake Eccho tell:
Why Columbynes she entertaines?
Because the prouerbe (watchet) faines
True loues like well?
And do these therfore like her vaines? Ecch. her vaines
There Cupid's dwell.
Speake Eccho tell:
Wherefore her Chaplets yellow were like,
When others here, were more her like? Eccho, hearelike:
Yet I know well,
Her hart is Tygre-like, or Beare-like:
To rockes it sell.
CANZON 2.
Sing sing (Parthenophil) sing, pipe, and play:
This feast is kept vpon this plaine
Amongst th'Arcadian shepheard's euery where
For Astrophill's byrth-day: sweet Astrophil.
Arcadies honour, mightie Pan's cheefe pride:
Where be the Nymph's, the Nymphes all gathred bee
To sing sweet Astrophil's sweet prayse.
Eccho, recorde what feastes be kept to day
Amongst th'Arcadian shepheard swaine,
VVhat keepe the whiles they do the muses cheare? Eccho, cheare
He chear'de the muses with coelestiall skill,
All shepheard's prayse dye'd with him when he dye'd:
He left no peere, then what deserued he
At whose pypes sounde the Lambe kinne bayes? Eccho, bayes
The Bullockes leape, the fawnes daunce in aray:
Kiddes skippe, the Satyres friskynes fayne,
Here standes an hearde of swaines, faire Nymphes stand there:
Swaines daunce, whiles Nymphes with flowers their baskets fill.
VVhat was he to those Nymphes which garlands tyed? Eccho, tyed
VVhat ty'de him? hath he to tell there bound t'ee? Eccho, bountee
How? to report his martiall dayes? Eccho, all dayes.
Thrise happie man that found this happie way
His prayse all shepheard's glorie stayne:
VVhat doth Parthenophe my purchase deare? Eccho, chase de [...]
VVhat saith she to her Parthenophil? Eccho, ofill.
Shepheardes I fill sweet wines repurified,
And to his blessed soule this health heaue wee,
Singing sweete O des, and rounde layes.
Let euery man drinke round beside this bay:
Where are the Nymphes and sayrie traine?
Stella, three garlandes in her hand doth beare,
And those for his sweet sake she proffer will
Vnto th'Elezian soules: And I haue spied
Parthenophe, with spoile returnes to mee
Of three great hartes. sing virilayes.
Those golden dartes flye neuer voyde of praye
And Stella sittes (as if some chaine
Offancies bound her) by that mottley breere:
Where with sweet Eglantine, and Daffadil
She Clapplettes makes, with gold and scarlet dye'd.
Here Colin sittes beneath that oken tree
Eliza singing in his layes.
Blest is Arcadiaes Queene, kneele swaines, and say
That she (which here cheefe Nymph doth rayne)
May blessed liue, to see th' extreamest yeare.
For sacrifice (then) Lambes and kiddlinges kill:
And be by them Eliza glorified,
The flower of loues, and pure virginitie:
[Page 107] This Delian Nymphe doth amaise.
The fairest deares which in the forestes stay,
Those harts (which proudest heard's distaine
And raunge the forestes as with compeere)
Submissiue yeelde them selues, that if she will
She them may wounde, or on their swift backes ride.
Lyons, and Beares, with bewtie tameth she:
Shepheard's, for her your voyces raise.
Eccho this fauour if I purchase may
Do not herd-groomes there fayne? Eccho, the're fayne.
What want they, speake, now they be blest, if eare. Eccho, feare.
What be the confines? rebell's they be still. Eccho, they be still.
What is she, that so many swaines doth their guide? Eccho, there guide
None but her selfe, hath that abilitie
To rule so many blessed wayes:
Her thoughtes sure grounded on diuinitie,
For this sweet Nymphe, each shepheard prayes.
ODE 3.
Vpon an holy Saintes eue
(As I tooke my pilgrimadge)
Wandring through the forrest warye
(Blest be that holy sainte)
I mette the louely Virgine Marye
And kneeled with long trauell fainte
[Page 108] Performing my dew homage,
My teares fore told mine hart did greeue
Yet Mary would not me releeue.
Her I did promise euery yeare,
The firstling foemale of my flocke
That in my loue she would me furder:
I curst the dayes of my first loue,
My comfortes spoiles, my pleasures murther:
She, she alas did me reproue,
My suites (as to a stonie rocke)
Were made, for she would not giue eare.
Ah loue, deare loue, loue bought to deare!
Mary, my sainte chast, and milde
Pittie, ah pittie my suite;
Thou art a virgine, pittie mee:
Shine eyes, though pittie wanting.
That she by them my greefe may see
And looke on mine hart panting:
But her deafe eares, and tonge mute
Shewes her hard hart vnreconcil'de,
Hard hart, from all remorse exil'de.
ODE 4.
Bacchus father of all sport,
Worker of loues comfort:
Venus best beloued brother
(Like beloued is none other)
Greater father of felicitie,
Fill full with thy diuinitie,
[Page 109] These thirstie, and these emptie vaines.
Thence fuming vp into my braines
Exceede Apollo through thy might,
And made me by thy motion light:
That with alacritie I may
Write pleasing Odes, and still display
Parthenophe, with such high praises
Whose bewtie shepheard's all amases:
And by those meanes her loues obtaine,
Then hauing fill'd vp euery vaine,
I shall be set in perfect state
The rightes of loue to celebrate
Then each yeare fat from my sheepecoate
Thy sacrifice a tydie goate:
And Iô Euohê shall bee
Loude chaunted euery where to thee.
ODE 5.
Parthenophe see what is sent:
By me (faire Nymphe) these saints salute thee,
Whose presentes in this basket heare
Faithfull Parthenophill doth beare,
Nor will I proue ingrate, nor mute bee.
If my power were,
Such giftes as these
(If they would please)
Here will ingely I would present.
And these those presents present bee:
First Iuno sent to thee these lillyes,
In whose steede chast affection moues
[Page 110] Venus hath sent two Turtle doues,
Narcissus giues the Daffadillyes:
For doues true loues:
For Daffadilles
My golden willes:
Which counteruailes, what here is sent thee.
Flora doth greete thee with sweet Roses,
Thetis with rich pearle Oriente;
Leucothoe with franckincense:
For Roses, my loues chast pretence:
For pearles, those teares which I haue spent:
My sighes incense,
For sweet perfume:
Thus I presume
Poore shepheard, to presente these poasies.
Though I be rude (as shepheards are)
Lillyes I know, do stand for whitnesse:
And Daffadilles thy golden heare:
And doues thy meekenesse figures beare:
Red Roses for a blushing brightnesse,
Thy teeth pearles were,
That incense shoed
Thy breathe that bloed
A sacrifice, for which goddes care.
Blest is that shepheard nine times nine
Which shall in bosome these flowers keepe,
Bound in one posie whose sweet smell
In paradise may make him dwell
And sleepe a tentimes happie sleepe:
[Page 111] I dare not mell,
Else with good will
Parthenophil
Would to thy lippes one kisse assigne.
ODE 6.
Oh fayre sweet gloue
Deuine token
Of her sweet loue
Sweetely broken:
By wordes, sweet loues she durst not moue,
These giftes her loue to me do proue
Though neuer spoken.
On her fayre hand
This gloue once was,
None in this land
Did euer passe
Her handes fayre white, come loues here stand,
Let graces (with yours) match her hand:
Hyde, hyde alas!
Graces would smile
If you should matche,
Herr's yours beguile,
Her's garlandes catche
From all the Nymphes, which blush the while
To see there white out-match't a myle
Which prayse did watche.
This gloue I kisse,
[Page 112] And for thy sake
I will not misse
But ballades make,
And euery shepheard shall know this,
Parthenophil in such grace is
Muses awake:
For I will sing
Thy matchelesse prayses:
And my pypes bring
Which floodes amaises,
Wilde Satyres friskines shall out-fling,
The rockes shall this dayes glorie ring
Whiles Nymphes bring dazes.
Some woodbynes beare
Some damaske roses
The muses were
A bynding poases,
My goddesse gloue to herrye heere,
Great Pan, commes in with flowers seare
And crownes composes.
I note this day,
Once euery yeare
An holy-day
For her kept deare:
An hundreth swaines on pypes shall play,
And for the gloue maske in aray
Withiolly cheare.
A gloue of gold
[Page 113] I will bring in,
For which swaines bold
Shall strife begin:
And he (which loues can best vnfold,
And hath in songes his minde best told)
The gloue shall winne.
Nymphes shall resorte,
And they (which flowers)
Shall decke a forte
For parramours:
Which for this gloue shall there contende,
Vnpartiall Nymphes shall Iudgement ende:
And in those bowers.
Pronounce, who best
Deseru'd of all:
Then by the rest
A coronall
Of Roses, freshly shall be drest:
And he with that rich gloue possest,
As principall.
ODE 7.
When I did thinke to write of warre,
And martiall cheefden's of the field:
Diana did inforce to yeeld
My muse to prayse the Westerne starre:
But Pallas did my purpose barre:
My muse as too weake it to weeld.
Elizaes prayses were too hye,
Diuinest wittes haue done their best,
And yet the most haue proued least:
Such was her sacred maiestie,
Loues pride grace to virginitie:
Oh could my muse in her prayse rest!
Venus directed me to write
The prayse of peerlesse bewties wonder,
A theame more fit for voyce of thunder:
Parthenophe, from whose eyes bright,
Ten thousand graces dar'e my might,
And will'd me fiue degrees write vnder.
But yet her fancie wrought so much,
That my muse did her prayse aduenter,
Wherein of yore it durst not enter:
And now her bewtie giues that tuche,
Vnto my muse, in number suche:
Which makes me more, and more repent her.
ODE 8.
In a shadie groue of mirtle,
(Where byrdes musicall resorted)
With Floraes painted flowers fertle,
Which men with sight and sent comforted,
Whilst turtles equally disported,
Where each Nymphe loases,
Bunches of poases,
Which into Chapplettes sweet they sorted.
There seated in that louely shade,
Which Laya bewtifull there sate
A gentle shepheard, which had made
Gainst euening twilight somewhat late,
An arbour built in Syluane state
Where in exchaunge,
Their eyes did raunge
Giuing each other the check-mate.
He said sweet comfort of my life
Come and embrace Parthenophil
Mette we sade she to fall at strife
I will be gone I that I will
I lou'd your long, why do so still
I can not chuse
If you refuse
But shall my selfe with sorrow kill.
With that he sight and would haue kist
And vew'de her with a fearefull smile
She turn'd and said your ame mist
With sighes redoubled the meanewhile
The shepheard sate, but did compile
Greene knotted rushings,
Then roundlayes sings:
And pleasaunt doth twilight beguile.
At length he somewhat nearer prest
And with a glaunce the Nymphe deceauing
He kist her, she said be at rest
Willing displeas'd in the receauing:
Thence from his purpose neuer leauing
[Page 116] He prest her further,
She would cry murther,
But somewhat was her breathe bereauing.
At length he doth possesse her whoale,
Her lippes, and all he would desier:
And would haue breath'd in her his soale
(If that his soale he could enspyer)
Eft that chaunc'd which he did requier:
A liue soule possest
Her matrone brest,
Then waking I found sleepe a lyer.
ODE 9.
Behold (out-walking in these valleyes)
Where faire Parthenophe doth treade,
How ioysome Flora with her dallyes,
And at her steppes sweet flowers bredde:
Narcissus yellow,
And Amaranthus euerredde,
Which all her foote-steppes ouer spredde:
With Hyacynthe that findes no fellow.
Behold, within that shadie thicke
Where my Parthenophe doth walke,
Her bewtie makes trees mouing quicke
Which of her grace in murmur talke:
The poplar trees shed teares,
The blossom'd Hauthorne white as chalke,
And Aspine trembling on his stalke:
The tree which sweet [...] beares.
The barren Hebene coalie blacke,
Greene Iuy with his straunge embraces,
Daphne which scornes Ioues thunder-cracke,
Sweet Cypresse set in sundry places:
And singing Atis telles
Vnto the rest my mistresse graces,
From them the winde her glorie chases
Throughout the West: where it excelles.
ODE 10.
Why doth heauen beare a Sunne
To giue the world an heate?
Why there haue starres a seate?
On earth (when all is donne)
Parthenophes bright Sunne
Doth giue a greater heate.
And in her heauen there bee
Such faire bright blazing starres,
Which still make open warres
With those in heauens degree:
These starres farre brighter bee
Then brightest of heauens starres.
Why doth earth bring forth Roses,
Violettes, or Lillyes
Or bright Daffadylies:
In her cleare cheekes she cloases
Sweet Damaske Roses,
In her necke white Lillyes.
Violettes in her vaynes:
Why do men sacrifice
Incense to dieties?
Her breathe more fauour gaines,
And please the heauenly vaynes,
More then rich sacrifice.
ODE 11.
Louely Maya Hermes mother
Of faire Flora much befrended
(To whom this sweet month is commēded
This month more sweet then any other)
By thy sweet souerantie defended.
Dazes, Couslippes, and Primroses
Fragrant Violettes, and sweet Mynthe
Match'te with purple Hyacynthe,
Of these each where Nymphes make trimme poses
Praysing their mother Bericynthe.
Behold an heard of Iollie swaines
Go flocking vp and downe the meade,
A troupe of louely Nymphes do treade:
And dearnely dauncing on you plaines
Each doth in course her hornepype lead.
Before the groomes playes Peers the pyper,
The bring in Hauthorne and sweet brere,
And damaske-roses they would beare
(But them they leaue till they be riper)
The rest, round morisses daunce there.
With frisking gamboldes, and such glee,
Vnto the louely Nymphes they hast:
Who there in decent order plac'de
Expect who shall Queene Flora bee,
And with the may crowne cheefly grac'de.
The shepheardes poopen in their pype
One leades his wenche a country rounde:
Another sittes vpon the grounde
And doth his beard from driuell wipe,
Because he would be handsome found.
To see the frisking, and scouping
To heare the herdgroomes wowing speeches,
Whiles one to daunce his gyrle beseeches,
The lead-heeld lazie luskines louping
Fling out in their new mottley breeches.
This done, with iollye cheare, and game
The batchler swaines, and yong Nymphes mett
Where in an arbour they were sett
Thether (to chuse a Queene) they came
And soone concluded her fette.
There with a garland they did crowne
Parthenophe my sweet true-loue,
Whose bewtie all the Nymphes aboue
Did put the louely graces downe:
The swaines with shoutes rockes Ecchoes moue.
To see the roundes, and morisse daunces,
The leaden galliard's for her sake,
[Page 120] To heare those songes the shepheardes make:
One with his hobbie-horse still praunces,
Whiles some with flowers an high way make.
There in amantle of light greene,
Reseru'd by custome for that day
Parthenophe they did aray
And did create her sommers Queene,
And ruler of their merrie may.
SESTINE 3.
You loathed fieldes, and forrestes,
Infected with my vayne sighes:
You stonie rockes, and deafe hilles:
With my complaintes to speake taught:
You sandie shores, with my teares,
Which learne to wash your drie face:
Behold, and learne in my face,
The state of blasted forrestes.
If you would learne to shedde teares,
Or melt away with oft sighes,
You shall of me be this taught:
As I sit vnder these hilles:
Beating myne armes on these hilles,
Layd groueling on my leane face:
My sheepe of me to bleate taught,
And wander through the forrestes.
The soddeine windes learne my sighes,
Auroraes flowers my teares:
But she that should see my teares,
Swift skuddeth by the high hilles,
[Page 121] And sees me spent with long sighes,
And vewes my blubhered leane face,
Yet leaues me to the forrestes:
Whose solitarie pathes taught
My woes, all comfortes vntaught.
These sorrowes. sighes, and salt teares,
Fit solitarie forrestes:
These out cryes, meete for deafe hilles:
These teares, best-fitting this face:
This ayer, most meete for these sighes.
Consume consume with these sighes,
Such sorrowes, the to dye taught,
Which printed are in thy face:
Whose furroes made with much teares:
You stonie rockes, and high hilles,
You sandie shores, and forrestes.
Report my seaes, of salt teares:
You whom I nothing els taught,
But gronings teares, and sad sighes.
ODE 12.
One night I did attend my sheepe
(Which I with watchfull ward did keepe)
For feare of wolues assaulting
For many times the broake my sleepe,
And would into the cottage creepe,
Till I sent them out haulting.
At length me thought about midnight
(What time cleare Cynthia shined bright)
[Page 122] Beneath I heard a rumbling:
At first the noyse did me affright,
But nought appeared in my sight,
Yet still heard somewhat tumbling.
At length good hart I tooke to rise,
And then my selfe crost three times thrise,
Hence a sharpe shephooke raught:
I feard the wolfe had got a prise,
Yet how he might could not deuise:
I for his entrance sought.
At length by moonelight could I espye
A little boy did naked lye
Frettish't, amongst the flocke:
I him aproched somewhat nye,
He gron'd as he were like to dye,
But falsely me did mocke.
For pittie he crye'd wella-day,
God maister helpe me (if you may)
For I am almost starued:
I pittied him when he did pray,
And brought him to my couch of hay,
But gesse, as I was serued.
He bare about him a long dart,
Well guilded with fine painters art,
And had a pyle of steele:
On it I looked euery part,
Said I, will this pyle wounde an hart:
Tuch it (quoth he) and feele.
With that I tuch't the iauelinges point,
Eft-soones it perced to the ioynt,
And rageth now so fierce:
That all the balmes which it anointe,
Cannot preuaile with it a pointe,
But it myne hart will perce.
ODE 13.
On the plaines
Fairie traynes
Were a treading measures:
Satyres plaide,
Fayries staide
At the stoppes set leasures.
Nymphes beginne,
To come in
Quickly, thicke, and three fold:
Now the daunce,
Now the praunce,
Presente there (to behold)
On her brest
That did best
Aiewell rich was placed:
Flora chose,
Which of those
Best the measures graced.
When he had
Measures lad
[Page 124] Parthenophe did get it:
Nymphes did chide
(When they trye'd)
Where the iudgement set it.
Thus the sayd,
This faire mayd
(Whom you gaue the iewell)
Takes no pleafure,
To keepe measure,
But it is too to cruell
ODE 14.
Harke all you louely Nymphes forlorne,
With Venus chast Diana meetes,
And one another friendly greetes:
Did you not here her wynde an home?
Then cease fayre Ladyes do not morne.
Virgines (whom Venus made offend)
Resort into the wood at euen,
And euery one shall be forgiuen:
There shall all controuersies end,
Diana shall be Venus friende.
Harke (Nympes forlorne) what is decreede:
Spottelesse Diana (must notfayle)
But be adrest with Venus vayle,
Venus must we [...]e Dianaes weede:
This vayle will s [...]dow, when you neede,
If any thinke a virgine light
Dian'e in Venus vayle excuseth,
And her Nymphe Phoebes habite vseth:
These queinte attyres befit you right,
For each a diuerse garment chuseth.
ODE 15.
Vulcane in Lemnos Ile,
Did golden shaftes compyle
For Cupids bowe:
Then Venus did with honnie sweet
(To make it please, anointe the pyle:
Cupid belowe
Dipp'd it in gall, and made it meete
Poore wounded creatures to beguile.
When Mars return'd from warre,
Shaking his speare a farre
Cupid beheld:
At him in iest Mars shak'd his speare,
Which Cupid with his darte did barre
Which millions quelled:
Then Mars desierd his darte to beare,
But soone the waight his force did mar [...].
Then Mars subdue'd, desier'd
(Since he was with it tyer'd)
Cupid to take it:
Nay, you shall keepe it Cupid said,
For first to feele it you requir'de:
Wound I will make it
[Page 126] As deepe as yours: you me did feare:
And for that, you shall be fier'd.
CANZON 3.
Sweet is the golden couslippe, bright, and faire:
Tentimes more sweet, more golden, fayre, and bright,
Thy tresses (in rich tramell'de knottes) resembling.
Venus swannes backe, is louely, smooth, and white:
More louely, smooth, and white his fethers are,
The filuer lustre os thy browes dissembling.
Bright are the sunne-beames, on the water trembling:
Much brighter, shinning like loues holy fier
On the well-watred dya mondes of those eyes,
Whose heates reflection loues affection tryes.
Sweet is the sensor, whose fume doth aspyer
Appeasing loue, when for reuenge he flyes:
More sweet the censor, like thy seemely nose,
Whose bewtie (then inuentions wonder h'yer)
Nyne times nine muses neuer could disclose.
Sweet Eglantyne, I can not but commende
Thy modest rosie blush, pure white, and redde:
Yet I thy white, and redde prayse more, and more,
In my sweet Ladyes cheekes since they be shedde.
When grapes to full maturitie doe tende,
So round, so redde, so sweet, all ioye before,
Continually I long for them therefore;
To sucke there sweet, and with my lippes to tuch:
Not so much for the muses Nectar sake,
But that they from thy lippes there purpure take.
Sweet (pardon) though I thee compaire to such.
[Page 127] Proude nature, which so white loues doues did make.
And fram'd their louely heades, so white, and round:
How white and rounde? it doth exceede so much,
That nature nothing like thy chynne hath founde.
Faire Perles which garnish my sweet Ladies necke,
Faire Orient perles oh how much I admire you!
Not for your Orient glosse, or vertues rarenesse,
But that you tuch her necke I much desier your,
Whose whitenesse so much doth your lustre cheeke
As whitest Lillyes the primerose in fairenesse:
A necke most gorgious, euen in natures barenesse.
Deuine rose buddes, which (when spring doth surrender
His crowne to summer) he last trophie reareth,
By which he (from all seasons) the palme beareth,
Faire purple crisped fouldes sweet-dew'de, and tender,
Whose sweetnesse neuer weares, though moysture weareth,
Sweet ripe-redde strawberryes, whose heauenly sappe
I would desier to sucke: but loues ingender
A Nectar more deuine, in thy sweet pappe.
Oh louely tender pappes! but who shall presse them?
Whose heauenly Nectar, and Ambroseall iuyce
Proceede from Viollettes sweet, and Asier-like,
And from the matchlesse purple Flower-deluce:
Round-rising hilles, white hilles (sweet Venus blesse them)
Natures rich trophyes, not those hilles vnlike
Which that great Monarche Charles (whose power did strike
From thartique to th'antartique) dignified
With proude Plus vltra, which Cerographye
In vnknowne Caracters of victorye
Nature hath set: by which she signified
[Page 128] Her Conquestes miracle rear'de vp on hye.
Soft Iuorie balles, with which whom she lettes play
Aboue all mortall men is magnified,
And wagers boue all price shall beare away.
Oh loues, soft hilles how much I wonder you?
Betweene whose louely valleyes, smooth, and straite
That glassie moisture lyes, that slipperie dewe,
Whose courage tuch'te, could dead men animate:
Old Nestor (if betweene, or vnder you
He should but tuch) his young yeares might renew,
And with all youthfull ioyes him selfe in dewe.
Oh smooth white satten, match-lesse, soft, and bright?
More smooth then oyle, more white then lillye is,
As hard to matche as loues mountes hillye is,
As soft as downe, cleare as on glasse sunne-light,
To prayse your white my toung too much sillye is:
How much at your smooth soft my sence amazed is,
Which charmes the feeling and inchauntes the sight?
But yet her bright, smooth, white, soft skinne more praysed is.
How oft haue I, the siluer swanne commended
For that eauen chesse of fethers in her wing,
So white, and in such decent order placed,
When she the dolye Dirge of death did sing,
With her yong mournefull Cygnettes trayne attended?
Yet, not because the milke-white winges her graced,
But, when I thinke on my sweet Ladyes wast,
Whose Iuorie sides, a snowye shadow giues
Of her well ordred ribbes, which rise in falling,
How oft the swanne I pittied her death calling?
With dreerie notes? not that she so short liues,
[Page 129] And mongst the muses singes, for her installing,
But that so cleare a white should be distayned
With one, that for loues sugred torment liues.
And makes that white a plague to louers payned.
Oh how oft, how oft, did I chide and curse
The brethren windes in their power disagreeing?
East for vnholesome vapour, South for rayne,
North for (by snowes and whirlewindes) bitter being:
I lou'd the West, because it was the nurse
To Floraes gardens, and to Coeres graine.
Yet tentimes more these I did curse againe,
Because they were inconstant, and vnstable,
In drought, in moysture, frostie cold, and heate,
Here with a sunnie smile, their stormie threate:
Much like my Ladies fancies variable.
How oft with feete did I the marble beate,
Harming my feete, yet neuer hurt the stone,
Because like her it was impenitrable,
And her hartes nature with it was all one?
Oh that my ceaselesse sighes, and teares were able
To counter-charme her hart, to stone conuerted?
I might worke miracles to chaunge againe
The hard to soft, that it might rew my paine:
But of her selfe she is so straitely skirted
(Falsely reputing true loud honor staine)
That I shall neuer [...]ue, and neuer bye,
So many wayes her [...]de I haue experted:
Yet shall I liue, through vertue of her eye.
ODE 16.
Before bright Titan rais'de his teame,
Or louely morne with rosie cheeke
VVith scarlette did'e the Easterne streame,
On Phoebes day first of the weeke
Early my goddesse did arise
VVith breathe to blesse the morning ayer:
Oh heauens which made deuine mine eyes
Glauncing on such a Nymphe so faire.
VVhose heare (downe-spredde in curled tresses)
Phoebus his glitter and beames withstood,
Much like him when through Cypresses
He daunceth on the siluer flood:
Or like the golden purled downe
Brooched vpon the palm-flowrd wyllowes,
VVhich downeward scattred from her crowne
Loosely disheuel'd on loues pillowes,
Couering her swan-like backe below
Like Iuorie match'te with purest gold,
Like Phoebe when on whitest snow
Her guilded shadow taketh hold.
Her forhead was like to the rose
Before Adonis prick'te his feete:
O [...] like the path to heauen which goes
VVhere all the louely graces meete.
Cupids rich chariotte stood vnder,
Moyst perle about the wheeles was set,
Gray Achate spokes not much a funder:
The Axeltree of purest i [...]tt.
Her seemely nose the rest which grac'de,
[Page 131] For Cupid's trophye was vprear'de:
Timperiall thrones where loue was plac'de,
VVhen of the world he would be fear'de,
VVhere Cupid, with sweet Venus sate:
Her cheekes with rose, and lillyes deck'te,
Nature vpon the coache did wate,
And all in order did direct.
Her cheekes to Damas▪ eroses sweet
In sent, and colour, weare so like:
That honnie-bees in swarmes would meete
To sucke, and sometimes she would strike
VVith daintie plume the bees to feare,
And being beaten they would sting:
They founde such heauenly honny theare,
Cupid (which there sate triumphing)
VVhen he perceiu'd the bee did sting her,
VVould swell for greefe, and curse that bee
More then the bee that sting'd his finger:
Yet still about her they would flee.
Then loue to Venus would complaine
Of nature, which his chariot drest:
Nature would it excuse againe
Saying she then shew'd her skill best.
VVhen she dronke wine vpon her face
Bacchus would daunce, and spring to kisse,
And shadow with a blushing grace
Her cheekes, where louers build there blisse:
VVho when she dranke would blush for shame,
That wanton Bacchus she should vse,
VVho Venus brother might defame
Her, that should such acquaintance chuse.
What glosse the scarlet curtaines cast
[Page 132] On a bed-steede of Iuorie,
Such like, but such as much surpast
All glosse, her cheekes did bewtifie.
Her roseate lippes, soft louely swelling,
And full of pleasure as a Cherry:
Her breath of deuine spices smelling,
Which with toung broaken, would make meny
Th'infernall soules, and with her voyce
Set heauen wide open, hell gates shut,
Moue melancholye to reioyce,
And thrall'de in Paradice might put.
Her voyce not humaine when she speaketh,
I thinke some Angell or goddesse
(Into coelestiall tunes which breaketh)
Speakes like her, with such chearefulnesse.
All byrdes, and instrumentes may take
There notes deuine, and excellent,
Mellodious harmonie [...]o make
From her sweet voyces least accent.
This we loues sanctuarie call:
Whence sacred sentences proceede
Rould vp in soundes Angelicall,
Whose place sweet nature hath decreede
Iust vnder Cupids' trophye fixt:
Where musique hath his excellence,
And such sweetes, with loues spirite mixt,
As please farre more then frankincense,
Thence issew forth loues Oracles
Of happinesse, and lucklesse teene,
So straunge be loues rare miracles
In her, as like haue neuer beene.
Her necke that curious axe [...],
[Page 133] Pure Iuorie like, which doth support
The gloabe of my Cosmographie,
Where, to my Planettes I resort
To take Iudiciall signes of skill,
When tempestes to myne hart will turne,
When shoures shall my fountaines fill,
And extreame droughtes mine hart shall burne:
There in that gloabe, shall I perceiue,
When I shall finde cleare element,
There, gloomie mistes shall I conceiue
Which shall offende the firmament,
On this my studies still be bent,
VVhere euen as riuers from the seae [...]
In braunches through the land be sent,
And into crooked sinewes prease
Throughout the gloabe such-wise the vaynes
Cleare Christalline throughout her necke,
Like sinuous, in their crooked traines
VVildely the swelling waues did checke.
Thence rise her humble seemcly shoulders,
Like two smooth pullish't Iuory toppes,
Of loues cheefe frame, the chief vphoulders
VVhiter then that was of Pelops.
Thēce Cupids fiue-graind-mace out braūcheth,
VVhich fiue-fold, the fiue sences woundeth,
VVhose sight, the minde of lookers launcheth,
VVhose force, all other force astoundeth.
Thence to that bed, where loues proude Queene
In silent maiestie sweet sleepeth:
VVhere her soft louely pillowes beene,
VVhere Cupid through loues conduictes creepeth.
Pillowes, of Venus turtles downe
[Page 134] Pillowes, then Venus turtles softer,
Pillowes, the more where loue lyes downe,
More couetes to lye downe, and ofter:
Pillowes on which two sweet rose buddes,
Dew'de with Ambrosiall nectar lye,
VVhere loues milke-way, by springs, & floodes
Through violet pathes, smooth slideth by.
But now with feares, and teares proceede
Loues place of torture to deelare,
VVhich such calamitie doth breede
To those, which there imprisoned are.
VVhich once in cheanes are neuer free,
Which still for want of succour pyne,
Dry sighes, salte-watrie teares which bee
For daintie cates, and pleasant wine:
Immur'de with pure white Iuorye,
Fetters of Adamant to draw
Euen steele it selfe (if ir be nye)
A bondage without right, or law:
With poore Actaeon ouerthrowne
But for a looke: and with an eye
(In his cleare armes) loues sergeant knowne
Arrestes each louer that goes by.
This is her hart, loues prison call'de,
Whose conquest is impregnable,
Whence who so chaunce to be in thrall'de,
To come forth after are vnable.
Further to passe then I haue seene,
Or more to shew then may be told,
Were too much impudence I weene:
Here therefore take myne anchor hold,
And with the Romaine Poet deeme
[Page 135] Partes vnreueal'de to be most sweete:
Which here describ'de might euill beseeme,
And for a modest muse vnmeete.
Such blessed morninges seldome bee,
Such sightes, too rare when men goe by:
Would I but once, the like might see,
That I might dye, before I dye.
SESTINE 4.
Eccho, what shall I do to my Nymphe, when I goe to behold her? Eccho, hold her.
So dare I not, least she should thinke that I make her a pray then? Eccho, pray then.
Yea, but at me she will take scorne, proceeded of honor? Eccho, on her.
Me beare will she (with her to deale so saucilie) neuer? Eccho, euer.
Yea but I greatly feare, she will haue pure thoughtes to refuse such? Eccho, fewe such.
Then will I venture againe more bold, if you warne me to do so? Eccho, do so.
I must write with teares, and sighes, before that I do so? Eccho, do so.
But what if my teares, and sighes be to weake to remoue her? Eccho, moue her.
So shall yee moue huge Alpes with teares, and sighes, if you may such. Eccho, you may such.
If any that shall affirme for a truth, I shall hold that they lye then? Eccho, lye then.
If I studie to death (in [...]inde) shall I lye neuer? Eccho, euer.
[Page 136] Oh what is it to lye, is't not dishonor?
Eccho, tis honor.
Then to flatter a while her, is't not dishonor?
Eccho, honor.
Then will I wrest out sighes, and wring forth teares when I do so?
Eccho, do so.
Least she finde my craft, with her I may toye neuer?
Eccho, euer.
Then if you iest in kinde with her you winne her?
Eccho, you winne her.
Then (what time she laughes from her hart) shall I smile then?
Eccho, ey smile then.
They that like my ioyes, is it harme if I kisse such?
Eccho, ey kisse such.
Yea but most Ladyes haue disdainefull mindes, to refuse such?
Eccho, fewe such.
In what space shall I know, whether her loue resteth in honour?
Eccho, in one hower.
Oh for such a sweet hower my life of howers will I pray then?
Eccho, ayo then!
Then if I finde as I would, more bold to vrge her I may be so?
Eccho, be so.
But if she do refuse, then woe to th' atempter?
Eccho, attempt her.
She will proudly refuse, and speakes in iest neuer?
Eccho, euer.
So though still she refuse, she speakes in iest euer?
Eccho, euer.
Then such (as these) bee the true best signes to seeke out such?
Eccho, seeke out such.
Such will I seeke but what shall I do when I first shall attempt her?
Eccho, tempt her.
[Page 137] How shall I tempt her-eare she stand on termes of her honor?
Eccho, on her.
Oh might I come to that! I thinke it is euen so
Eccho, tis euen so.
Strongly to tempt, and moue (at first) is surely the best then?
Eccho, the best then.
What (when they do repugne, yet cry not forth) will they do then?
Eccho, do then.
With such a blunt proeme, Ladies shall I moue neuer
Eccho, euer.
I must waite at an inche on such Nymphes whom I regard so
Eccho, guarde so.
Those whom in hart I loue, my faith doth firmely deserue such
Eccho, serue such.
Then (to become their slaues) is no great dishonor?
Eccho, honor.
But to the muses (first) I will recommend her
Eccho, commende her.
They that pittie louers i'st good if I prayse such?
Eccho, ey prayse such.
If that I write their prayse, by my verse shall they liue neuer?
Eccho, euer.
If thy wordes be true, with thankes take adew then
Eccho, adew then.
CARMEN ANACREONTIVM. ODE 17.
Reueale) sweet muse) this secrette,
Wherein, the liuely sences
Do most triumph in glorie
[Page 138] Where others talke of eagles,
Searching the Sunne with quick-sighi:
With eyes in brightnesse pearsaunte,
Parthenophe, my sweet Nymphe,
With sight more quicke then eagles,
With eyes, more cleare, and pearsaunte,
And (which exceedes all eagles)
Whose influence giues more heate,
Then Sunne in Cancer tropique:
With proude imperious glaunces,
Subdewing all beholders,
Which gaze vpon their brightnesse,
Shall triumphe ouer that sence.
Reueale (sweet muse) this secret,
Wherein the liuely sences
Do most triumph in glorie,
Where some, of heauenly Nectar,
The tastes cheefe comfort talke of,
For pleasure, and sweet relish:
Where some, coelestiall Syrroppes,
And sweet Barbarian spices,
For pleasauntnesse commend most:
Parthenophe, my sweet Nymphe,
With lippes more sweet then Nectar,
Containing much more comfort,
Then all coelestiall Syrroppes,
And which exceedes all spices,
On which, none can take surfet,
Shall triumphe ouer that sence.
Reueale (sweet muse) this secret,
Wherein, the liuely sences
Do most triumphe in glorie,
[Page 139] Where some, Panchaian incense,
And riche Arabian odours,
And waters sweet distilled:
Where some of herbes, and flowers,
Of Amber-greece, and sweet rootes,
For heauenly spirite prayse most:
Parthenophe, my sweet Nymphe
With breath more sweet then incense,
Panchaian, or Arabicke,
Or any sortes of sweet thinges,
And (which exceedes all odours)
Whose spirite, is loues godhead,
Shall triumphe ouer that sence.
Reueale (sweet muse) this secret,
Wherein the liuely sences,
Do most triumphe in glorie:
Where musique, restes in voyces,
As Socrates supposed:
In voyce, and bodies mouing,
As though Aristoxinus:
In mynde, as Theophrastus.
Her voyce, exceedes all musique,
Her bodies comely carridge,
Her gesture, and deuine grace
Doth rauish all be holders:
Her mynde, it is much heauenly
And which, exceedes all iudgement.
But such sweet lookes, sweet thoughtes tell,
And makes her conquour that sence.
Reueale (sweet muse) this secret,
Wherein, the liuely sences,
Do most triumphe in glorie:
[Page 140] Where some, of sacred handes talke,
Whose blessing makes things prosper:
Where some, of well-skill'de fingers,
Which makes such heauenly musique,
With woode, and tuch of sinewes:
Parthenophes deuine handes,
Let them, but tuch my rude handes,
Let them, but tuch my pale cheekes,
Let them, but any part tuch:
My sorrow shall asswage soone,
Let her, but checke the lute string,
The sounde to heauen shall charme me:
Thus shee the sences conquores.
ODE 18.
Oh that I could make her whom I loue best,
Finde in a face with miserie wrinckled,
Finde in an hart, with sighes ouer-ill-pynde,
Her cruell hatred!
Oh that I could make her whom I loue best,
Finde by my teares, what maladie vexeth,
Finde by my throbbes, how forceably loues darte
Woundes my decayde hart!
Oh that I could make her, whom I loue best
Tell with a sweet smile, that she respecteth
All my lamentinges, and that in her hart
Mourne fully she rues!
For my desartes, were worthy the fauours
Of such a fayre Nymphe, might she be fairer
Oh then a firme faith, what may be richer!
Then to my loue yeeld.
Then will I leaue these teares to the wast rockes,
Then will I leaue these sighes to the rough windes,
Oh that I could make her, whom I loue best
Pittie my long smart!
ODE 19.
Why should I weepe in vayne, poore and remedilesse?
Why should I make complainte, to the deafe wildernesse?
Why should I sigh for ease, sighes they breede maladie?
Why should I grone in hart, grones they bring miserie?
Why should teares, plaintes, & sighes mingled with heauy grones
Practise their crueltie, whiles I cōplaine to stones?
Oh what a cruell hart, with such a tyrannie
Hardly she practiseth (in greefes extremitie)
Such to make conquered, whom she would haue deprest,
Such a man to disease, whom she would haue opprest?
Oh but (Parthenophe) turne and be pittifull!
Crueltie bewtie staynes, thou sweet art bewtifull,
If that I made offence, my loue is all the fault
VVhich thou can charge me with, thē do not masse assault
With fuch extremities, for my kinde hartie loue:
But for loues pittie sake, from me thy frownes remoue.
So shalt thou make me blest, so shall my sorrowes cease,
So shall I liue at ease, so shall my ioyes acrease,
So shal teares, plaints, & sighes, mingled with heauy grones
Wearie the rockes no more, nor lament to the stones.
ODE 20. ASCLEPIAD.
O sweet pittilesse eye, bewtifull, Orient!
[Page 142] (Since my [...]aith is a rocke, durable euery where:)
Smile, and shine with a glaunce, hartely me to ioye,
Bewtie taketh a place, pittie regardes it not:
Vertue findeth a throane, settled in euery part:
Pittie founde none at all, banished euery where.
Since then bewtie triumphes, chastities enemy:
And vertue cleped is, much to be pittifull:
And since that thy delight, is euer vertuous:
My teares (Parthenophe) pittie, be pittifull,
So shall men the repute great, as an holy Saint:
So shall bewtie remaine, mightely glorified:
So thy fame shall abounde, durably chronicled:
Then sweet (Parthenophe) pittie, be mercifull.
SONNET CV.
Ah me how many wayes haue I assaide
To winne my mistresse to me ceaselesse suite?
What endlesse meanes and prayers haue I made
To thy faire graces euer deafe and mute?
At thy long absence like an errant page
With sighes and teares long iourneyes did I make,
Through pathes vnknowne in tedious pilgrimage
And neuer slept, but alwayes did awake.
And hauing founde the ruthlesse, and vnkinde:
Soft skinn'd, hard-harted, sweet lookes, voyde of pittie:
Ten thousand furies raged in my minde
Chaunging the tenour of my louely dittie:
By whose enchaunting sawes, and magicke spell
Thine hard indurate hart, I must compell.
SESTINE 5.
Then, first with lockes disheueled, and bare,
Straite guirded, in a chearefull calmie night:
Hauing a fier made of greene Cypresse woode,
And with male franckincense on alter kindled
I call on threefould Hecate with teares,
And here (with loude voyce) inuocate the furies:
For their assistance, to me with their furies:
Whilst snowye steedes in coach bright Phoebe bare.
Ay me Parthenophe smiles at my teares,
I neither take my rest by day, or night:
Her cruell loues in me such heate haue kindled.
Hence goate and bring her to me raging woode:
Hecate tell which way she comes through the woode.
This wine aboute this aulter, to the furies
I sprinkle, whiles the Cypresse bowes be kindled,
This brimstone earth within her bowelles bare,
And this blew incense sacred to the night.
This hand (perforce) from this bay this braunche teares.
So be she brought which pittied not my teares.
And as it burneth with the Cypresse woode
So burne she with desier by day and night.
You goddes of vengance, and auenge-full furies
Reuenge, to whom I bende on my knees bare.
Hence goate, and bring her with loues outrage kindled.
Hecate make signes if she with loue come kindled.
Thinke on my passions Hec'ate, and my teares:
This Rose mariene (whose braunche she cheefely bare
And loued best) I cut both barke and woode,
Broke with this brasen Axe, and in loues furies
[Page 144] I treade on it, reioycing in this night:
And saying, let her her feele such woundes this night.
About this alter, and rich incense kindled
This lace and Veruine to loues bitter furies
I binde, and s [...]rewe, and with sadde sighes and teares
About I beare her Image raging woode.
Hence goate and bring her from her bedding bare:
Hecate reueale if she like passions bare.
I knitte tree true loue knottes (this is loues night)
Of three discolour'd silkes, to make her woode,
But she scornes Venus till her loues be kindled,
And till she finde the greefe of fighes and teares:
Sweet Queene of loues for mine vnpittied furies,
A like torment her with such scaulding furies:
And this turtle (when the losse she bare
Of her deare make) in her kinde did shed teares,
And mourning did seeke him all day, and night:
Let such lament in her for me be kindled,
And mourne she still, till she runne raging woode:
Hence goate and bring her to me raging woode.
These letter's, and these verses to the furries
(Which she did write) all in this flame be kindled:
Me (with these papers) in vayne hope she bare
That she to day would turne mine hopelesse night,
These as I rent, and burne, so surie teares.
Her hardned hart, which pittied not my teares.
The winde shaked trees make murmure in the woode,
The waters roare at this thrise sacred night,
The windes come whisking still to note her furies:
Trees, woodes, and windes, a part in my plaintes bare,
And knew my woes, now ioy to see her kindled:
See whence she comes with loues enrag'd and kindled!
[Page 145] The pitchye cloudes (in droppes) send downe there teares,
Owles scritche, Dogges barke to see her carried bare,
Wolues yowle, and cry: Bulles bellow through the wood,
Rauens croape, now, now, I feele loues fiercest furies:
See'st [...]hou that blacke goate, brought this silent night
Through emptie cloudes by'th daughters of the night?
See how on him she sittes, with loue rage kindled,
Hether perforce brought with auenge-full furies?
Now I waxe drousie, n [...]w cease all my teares,
Whilst I take rest and slumber neare this woode:
Ah me! Parthenophe naked and bare,
Come blessed goate, that my sweet Lady bare:
Where hast thou beene (Parthenophe) this night?
What could? sleepe by this fier of Cypresse woode
Which I much longing for thy sake haue kindled,
Weepe not, come loues and wipe away her teares:
At length yet, wilt thou take away my furies?
Ay me, embrace me, see those ouglye furies.
Come to my bed, least they behold thee bare
And beare thee hence the will not pittie teares,
And these still dwell in euerlasting night:
Ah loues, sweet loue, sweet fiers for vs hath kindled,
But not inflam'd, with franckinsense, or woode,
The furies, they shall hence into the woode,
Whiles Cupid shall make calmer his hot furies,
And stand appeased at our fier's kindled.
Ioyne ioyne (Parthenophe) thy selfe vnbare,
None can perceiue vs in the silent night,
Now will I cease from sighes, lamentes, and teares,
And cease (Parthenophe) sweet cease thy teares:
Beare golden Apples thornes in euery woode,
Ioyne heauens, for we conioyne this heauenly night:
And Thistles Peares, which prickles lately bare.
Now both in one with equall flame be kindled:
Dye magicke bowes, now dye, which late were kindled:
Here is mine heauen: loues droppe in steede of teares.
It ioynes, it ioynes, ah both embracing bare.
Let Nettles bring forth Roses in each [...]oede,
Last euer verdant woodes: hence former furies:
Oh dye, liue, ioye: what? last continuall night,
Sleepe Phoebus still with Thetis: rule still night.
I melt in loue, loues marrow-flame is kindled▪
Here will I be consum'd in loues sweet furies.
I melt, I melt, watche Cupid my loue-teares:
If these be furies, oh let me be woode!
If all the fierie element I bare
Tis now acquitted: cease your former teares,
For as she once with rage my bodie kindled,
So in hers am I buried this night.
FINIS.
TO THE RIGHT NOBLE Lord, Henry Earle of Northumberland.
Deigne (mightie Lord) these verses to peruse
Which my blacke mournfull muse presenteth here,
Blushing at her first entrance in for feare,
Where of her selfe, her selfe she doth accuse.
And seeking Patronage, bold meanes doth vse
To shew that dewtie, which in hart I beare
To your thrise noble house: which shall out weare
Deuouring time it selfe, if my poore muse
Deuine aright, whose, vertuous excellence
She craues her ruder stile to patronise.
Voutch-safe then (noble Lord) to giue defence:
Who (when her brighter glorie shall arise)
Shall flye to fetche fame from her fort of brasse,
VVhich with your vertues through the world shall passe.
TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE MOST renowned and valiant, Robert Earle of Essex, and Ewe, &c.
Voutchsafe (thrise valiant Lord) this verse to reade,
When time from cares of more importe permittes,
The too deare charge of mine vncharged wittes:
And that I do my lighter muses leade
To kisse your sacred handes, I myldely pleade
For pardon, where all gracious vertue sittes.
Since time of yoare there Lordes first fruite admittes
[Page] My bashfull muse (which lost her mayden-head
In too deare trauell of my restlesse loue)
To you my Lord her first borne babe presentes,
Vnworthie such a patrone for her lightnesse:
Yet deigne her zeale, though not the light contentes,
Till from your vertues registred aboue,
To make her loue more knowne, she borrow brightnesse.
TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND VERtuous Lord, Henry Earle of Southampton.
Receaue (sweet Lord) with thy thrise-sacred hande
Which sacre [...] muses make their instrument,
These worthlesse leaues, which I to thee present
Sprong from a rude and vnmanured lande:
That with your countenance grac'de, they may withstande
Hundred ey'de enuies rough encounterment,
Whose patronage can giue encouragement
To scorne back-wounding Zoilus his bande.
Voutch-safe (right vertuous Lord) with gracious eyes
Those heauenly lampes, which giue the muses light,
Which giue, and take in course (that holy fier)
To vewe my muse with your iudiciall sight,
Whom when time shall haue taught by flight to rise,
Shall to thy vertues of much worth aspyer.
TO THE MOST VERTVOVS LEARned and bewtifull Lady Marie Countesse of Penbrooke.
Pride of our English Ladies, neuer match'te,
Great fauourer of Phoebus of-spring,
[Page] In whom euen Phoebus is most florishing,
Muses cheefe comfort, of the muses hatch'te:
On whom Vrania hath so long time watch'te,
In fames rich forte with crowne triumphing,
Of laurell euer-greene in lustie spring,
After thy mortall pilgrimage dispatch'te.
Vnto those Planettes where thou shal't haue place
With thy late sainted brother to giue light:
And with harmonious Sphoeres to turne in race.
Voutch-safe sweet Lady with a forhead bright
To shine on this poore muse, whose first borne fruite
That you of right would take, she maketh suite.
TO THE RIGHT VERTVOVS AND most bewtifull Lady the Lady Straunge.
Sweet Lady might my humble muse presume
Thy bewties rare perfection to set out,
(Whom she pride of our English court reputes)
Ambitious she would assume
To blazon, euery where about
Thy bewtie, whose dumbe eloquence disputes
With fayre loues Queene, and her by right confutes.
But since there is no doubt
But that thy bewties prayse, which shall consume
Euen time it selfe exceedeth
All Bryttish Ladyes, deigne my muses suites
Which vnacquainted of your bewtie craues
Acquaintance, and proceedeth
T'aproche so boldly, and behaues
[Page] Her selfe so rudely, daunted at your [...]ght
As eyes in darkenesse, at a suddeine light.
TO THE BEAVTIFVLL LADY THE Lady Brigett Manners.
Rose of that garlande, (fayrest, and sweetest
Of all those sweet and faire flowers:
Pride of chast Cynthias rich crowne,)
Receaue this verse, thy matchlesse bewtie meetest:
Behold thy graces which thou greetest,
And all the secret powers
Of thine and such like bewties, here set downe,
Here shalt thou finde thy frowne,
Here thy sunnie smiling,
Fames plumes flye with thy loues which should be fleetest,
Here my toues tempestes, and showers.
These read (sweet bewtie) whom my muse shall crowne,
Who for thee such a garland is compyling
(Of so deuine sentes, and colours)
As is immortall, time beguiling.
Your bewties most affectionate seruant. BARNABE BARNES.
A TABLE FOR TO FINDE THE SONNETTES AND MADRIGALLES.
| SONNET | PAGE |
| 36 And thus continu. | 23 |
| 46 Ah pearse-eye pear. | 31 |
| Mad. 18 After Auroraes. | 86 |
| 59 Ah me sweet bewtie. | 40 |
| Mad. 14 Ah ten times worse. | 43 |
| 66 Ah sweet content. | 45 |
| 105 Ah me how many. | 142 |
| 29 Blesse still the mirre. | 19 |
| 34 But when in may. | 22 |
| 37 But pittie which. | 23 |
| 40 But ah my plague. | 25 |
| 76 Be blind myne eyes. | 50 |
| 93 Begges loue which. | 60 |
| 87 Burne on sweet fier. | 56 |
| 49 Coole coole in waues. | 32 |
| 74 Cease ouer-tyred. | 49 |
| 79 Couetous eyes what. | 52 |
| 83 Darke night blacke. | 54 |
| Mad. 17 Enuious ayre. | 67 |
| 22 From thine harts. | 15 |
| Mad. 9 For glorie pleasure. | 34 |
| 58 Faire clitie doth. | 39 |
| 62 Fie fie fierce tyrant. | 41 |
| 94 Forth from mine. | 60 |
| 85 From Eastes bed. | 55 |
| 47 Giue me mine eyes. | 31 |
| 3 He when continuall. | 2 |
| 6 Him when I caught. | 4 |
| 7 Her loue to me. | 4 |
| 17 How then succeedeth. | 12 |
| 77 How can I liue. | 51 |
| 104 Hold matchlesse. | 75 |
| 101 Had I beene banish. | 64 |
| 5 It chaunced after. | 3 |
| 19 Imperious Ioue. | 13 |
| 31 I burne yet am. | 20 |
| 63 Ioue for Europaes. | 4 [...] |
| 67 If Cupid keepe. | 45 |
| 64 If all the loues were. | 44 |
| 103 I slept and vnder. | 70 |
| Mad. 22 In center of these. | 71 |
| Mad. 26 I deare not speake. | 73 |
| 48 I wish no rich. | 32 |
| 4 Laya soone sounding. | 2 |
| Mad. 12 Like to the mountal. | 36 |
| 75 Loue is a name. | 49 |
| 80 Long wisht for death. | 52 |
| Mad. 2 Might not this be. | 8 |
| 52 Me though Calio. | 34 |
| 72 My mistresses bew. | 48 |
| 84 My sweet Parthen. | 54 |
| 1 Mistresse behold. | 1 |
| 90 My mistresse armes. | 58 |
| Mad. 20 My loue alas. | 69 |
| 33 Next when the. | 21 |
| 35 Next when my. | 22 |
| 43 Now in my Zodia. | 27 |
| 53 Nymphes which in. | 38 |
| Mad. 15 Natures pride. | 65 |
| Mad. 1 Ah powers coelestiall. | 7 |
| Mad. 3 Once in an arbour. | 9 |
| Mad. 6 Oh why lou'd I. | 28 |
| 44 Oh d [...]t and thunder. | 29 |
| 65 Oh that I had no. | 44 |
| 81 Oh kingly ielousie. | 53 |
| 86 Oh fier rage. | 55 |
| 97 Oh why should enuy. | 62 |
| 42 Passe all ah no. | 26 |
| 100 Pleading for pittie. | 63 |
| Mad. 23 Phoebus rich. | 72 |
| 9 So did Parthenophe. | 5 |
| 28 So be my labours. | 18 |
| 30 So this continuall. | 19 |
| 32 Scarce twise seuen. | 20 |
| 45 Sweet bewties rose. | 30 |
| Mad. 5 Such straunge. | 27 |
| Mad. 16 Sleepe Phoebus still. | 66 |
| 50 So warble out. | 33 |
| Mad. 13 Soft louely rose-like. | 48 |
| 96 The sunne in Pisces. | 61 |
| 8 Then to Parthenophe. | 5 |
| Mad. 4 There had my. | 10 |
| 98 The sunne my. | 62 |
| 14 Then him control. | 10 |
| 20 These eyes thy bew. | 14 |
| 24 These mine hart. | 16 |
| 25 Then count it not. | 17 |
| 99 This carefull head. | 63 |
| 39 Then from her. | 25 |
| Mad. 10 Thou scald my. | 35 |
| Mad. 11 Thine eyes mine. | 36 |
| 56 The d [...]all loue. | 38 |
| 57 Thy bewtie is the. | 39 |
| 61 To none but to. | 41 |
| 69 The leauelesse. | 46 |
| 71 Those heares of A [...]g. | 47 |
| 78 The proudest Plan. | 51 |
| 82 The chariot with. | 53 |
| 91 These bitter gustes. | 59 |
| 95 Thou bright beame. | 61 |
| Mad. 24 Thus as she was. | 72 |
| Mad. 19 Thy la [...]es conceites. | 69 |
| 2 Whilst with strong. | 1 |
| 11 Why didst thou then. | 6 |
| 12 Vext with th' assaul [...]s. | 8 |
| 102 Vayne gallants. | 64 |
| 13 When none of these. | 9 |
| 15 Where or to whom. | 11 |
| 18 Write write helpe. | 13 |
| 23 When with the dow. | 15 |
| 26 When louely wrath. | 17 |
| 27 Why do I draw. | 18 |
| 38 When thine hart. | 24 |
| 41 When my sonne. | 26 |
| Mad. 8 Why am I thus. | 29 |
| 53 Why do I draw. | 37 |
| 54 When I was yong. | 37 |
| 60 Whilest some the. | 40 |
| 68 Would God when. | 46 |
| 70 VVhat can these. | 47 |
| 73 VVhy did rich. | 48 |
| 89 What be those. | 57 |
| 92 Wilt thou know. | 59 |
| Mad. 21 When this coelestiall. | 70 |
| Mad. 25 Whilst these two. | 73 |
| 88 Within thine eyes. | 56 |
| 10 Yet giue me leaue. | 6 |
| 16 Ye that accursed. | 12 |
| 21 Ye but vncertaine. | 14 |
| Mad. 7 Youthes wanton. | 28 |
ELEGIES AND ODES.
| ELE. OD. | PAGE |
| 5 Are you so waspish. | 78 |
| 16 Ah were my teares. | 90 |
| Ode. 4 Bacchus father. | 108 |
| 6 Behold these. | 97 |
| Ode. 16 Before bright Titan. | 130 |
| Ode. 9 Behold out walking. | 116 |
| 8 Cease sorrow cease. | 80 |
| 17 Deare mistresse. | 91 |
| Sest. 4 Eccho, what. | 135 |
| Ode. 14 Harke all you louely. | 124 |
| 21 Happie depart. | 95 |
| Sest. 2 In sweetest pride. | 103 |
| Ode. 8 In a shadie groue. | 114 |
| 10 In quiet silence. | 83 |
| 18 If neither loue. | 92 |
| Ode. 11 Louely maya. | 118 |
| 2 Oh that some. | 176 |
| ELE. OD. | PAGE |
| Ode. 6 Oh faire sweete. | 110 |
| Ode. 12 One night I did. | 121 |
| Ode. 13 On the plaines. | 123 |
| Ode. 20 Oh sweet pittielesse. | 141 |
| 12 Oh neuer can I see. | 85 |
| 15 Oh deare rememb. | 89 |
| 20 Oh deare vexation. | 94 |
| Ode. 18 Oh that I could. | 140 |
| Ode. 5 Parthenophe see. | 109 |
| Ode. 17 Reueale sweet. | 137 |
| 3 Sweet thraldome. | 77 |
| Ode. 2 Speake Eccho tell. | 105 |
| Canz. 3 Sweet is the couslip. | 126 |
| Canz. 2 Sing fing Partheno. | 105 |
| 13 Swift Atalanta. | 87 |
| Sest. 5 Then first with, | 143 |
| 4 This day sweet mist. | 77 |
| Ode. 15 Vulcan in Lemnos. | 125 |
| Ode. 3 Vpon an holy saintes. | 107 |
| [...] 1 VVhy did the milke. | 75 |
| [...]. 1 VVhen I waked. | 74 |
| Ode. 1 When I walke. | 104 |
| Ode. 7 VVhen I did thinke. | 113 |
| 10 Why doth heauen. | 117 |
| Ode. 19 Why should I weepe. | 141 |
| 9 With humble suite. | 92 |
| 14 When I remember. | 88 |
| 11 Was it decreede. | 84 |
| 7 Youth full of errour. | 80 |
| Sest. 3 You loathed fieldes. | 120 |
Faultes escaped in Printing.
Sonn. 1 [...]. for comon come on. Mad. 2. for wake t [...]e, make thee. Idem, for make thee wake thee Mad. 3 for chirping, cheeping. Idem, for culles, calles. Mad. 4. for places, place. Son, 15. 8. line for sencelesse sencelesse. Son. 16, for rageth, ragen. Idem, for searcheth, searseth Son. 17. for brimmes, trimmes. Son. 20. line 14 for of, on. Son. 23. for past eleuē, next eleuen Son. 24. for knattes, g [...]attes. Son. 28. line. 5. for atin'd, and Sonnet 46. for mountaines cleanes, mountaines hyllye cleaues. Son. 48 for Aff [...]ricke, Affricke. Son. 51. [...]ine. 10. for stould, should. Son. 52. praze, & raze, praise raise. Mad. 9. for vertuous, vertues. Son 47 for wounded man, the wou [...]ded man. Son. 73. for yea, yet. Son. 76. line. 13. for any my▪ Son. 72. for marched, matched. Son. 84. for soule, fowle. Son. 87. breast cā beare, leg. semel. Son. 98. for none aspier, none dare aspier. Mad. 17. for v [...]pour▪ vapour. Mad. 18. for pricklesse arose, prickles arose. Eleg. 12. lillyes adorne, for lillyes shall adorne Elegie. 9. Lancade an, for Leucadean. Eleg. 12 for c [...]iuer, contriuer. Eleg. 6. for with, which Eleg 7▪ for will, well. Idem, line 16 for with, which Canz. 1. line. 19. for thoe, thee. Idem, for whatsoeuer, whatsoeare. Sest. 2. for all glories, all her glories. Ode. 8. for they which flowers. They with flowers. Ode. 7. for dare my might, dar'de my might. Ode. 8. for which lay [...], with laya. Ode. 10. for please the, pleaseth. Ode. 11. for her sette, her to sette. Canz. 3. for shere sweet, there sweet. Ode. 16, [...]'imperiall, for th'imperiall. Idem, if it be nye, for if it be nye. Sest. 4. for Ayo thē, Ay then. Ode. 16, for O [...] like the, O [...] [...]ke the. Ode. 19▪ for masse assault, make assault Sest. 5. for disheueled & hare, d [...]sheueled and bare. Idem, for tree true loue [...] [...]hree true louers Idem, line 50 [...], furies. Idem, for still, shill.