LONDON.
IMPRINTED FOR WILLIAM PONSONBIE,
DWELLING IN PAULES CHURCHYARD
AT THE SIGNE OF THE
BISHOPS HEAD.
1591.
Most brave and noble Ladie, the things that make ye so much honored of the world as ye bee are such as (without my simple lines testimonie) are throughlie knowen to all men; namely, your excellent beautie, your vertuous behavior, and your noble match with that most honourable Lord, the verie paterne of right nobilitie. But the causes for which ye have thus deserved of me to be honoured, (if honour it be at all,) are, both your particular bounties, and also some private bands of affinitie*, which it hath pleased your Ladiship to acknowledge. Of which whenas I found my selfe in no part worthie, I devised this last slender meanes, both to intimate my humble affection to your Ladiship, and also to make the same universallie knowen to the world; that by honouring you they might know me, and by knowing me they might honor you. Vouchsafe, noble Lady, to accept this simple remembrance, though not worthy of your self, yet such as perhaps by good acceptance thereof ye may hereafter cull out a more meet and memorable evidence of your own excellent deserts. So recommending the same to your Ladiships good liking, I humbly take leave.
Your La: humbly ever.
[Footnote: Lady Strange was Alice Spencer, sixth daughter of Sir John Spencer of Althorpe. C.]
Rehearse to me, ye sacred Sisters nine,
The golden brood of great Apolloes wit,
Those piteous plaints and sorowfull sad tine
Which late ye powred forth as ye did sit
Beside the silver springs of Helicone, 5
Making your musick of hart-breaking mone!
For since the time that Phoebus foolish sonne,
Ythundered, through loves avengefull wrath,
For traversing the charret of the Sunne
Beyond the compasse of his pointed path, 10
Of you, his mournfull sisters, was lamented,
Such mournfull tunes were never since invented.
Nor since that faire Calliope did lose
Her loved twinnes, the dearlings of her ioy,
Her Palici, whom her unkindly foes, 15
The Fatall Sisters, did for spight destroy,
Whom all the Muses did bewaile long space,
Was ever heard such wayling in this place.
For all their groves, which with the heavenly noyses
Of their sweete instruments were wont to sound, 20
And th’hollow hills, from which their silver voyces
Were wont redoubled echoes to rebound,
Did now rebound with nought but rufull cries,
And yelling shrieks throwne up into the skies.
The trembling streames which wont in chanels cleare 25
To romble gently downe with murmur soft,
And were by them right tunefull taught to beare
A bases part amongst their consorts oft;
Now forst to overflowe with brackish teares,
With troublous noyse did dull their daintie eares. 30
The ioyous Nymphes and lightfoote Faëries
Which thether came to heare their musick sweet,
And to the measure of their melodies
Did learne to move their nimble-shifting feete,
Now hearing them so heavily lament, 35
Like heavily lamenting from them went.
And all that els was wont to worke delight
Through the divine infusion of their skill,
And all that els seemd faire and fresh in sight,
So made by nature for to serve their will, 40
Was turned now to dismall heavinesse,
Was turned now to dreadfull uglinesse.
Ay me! what thing on earth, that all thing breeds,
Might be the cause of so impatient plight?
What furie, or what feend, with felon deeds 45
Hath stirred up so mischievous despight?
Can griefe then enter into heavenly harts,
And pierce immortall breasts with mortall smarts?
Vouchsafe ye then, whom onely it concernes,
To me those secret causes to display; 50
For none but you, or who of you it learnes,
Can rightfully aread so dolefull lay.
Begin, thou eldest sister of the crew,
And let the rest in order thee ensew.
Heare, thou great Father of the Gods on hie, 55
That most art dreaded for thy thunder darts;
And thou, our Syre? that raignst in Castalie
And Mount Parnasse, the god of goodly arts:
Heare, and behold the miserable state
Of us thy daughters, dolefull desolate. 60
Behold the fowle reproach and open shame
The which is day by day unto us wrought
By such as hate the honour of our name,
The foes of learning and each gentle thought;
They, not contented us themselves to scorne, 65
Doo seeke to make us of the world forlorne*.
[* Forlorne, abandoned]
Ne onely they that dwell in lowly dust,
The sonnes of darknes and of ignoraunce;
But they whom thou, great love, by doome uniust
Didst to the type of honour earst advaunce; 70
They now, puft up with sdeignfull insolence,
Despise the brood of blessed Sapience.
The sectaries* of my celestiall skill,
That wont to be the worlds chiefe ornament,
And learned impes that wont to shoote up still, 75
And grow to hight of kingdomes government,
They underkeep, and with their spredding armes
Doo beat their buds, that perish through their harmes.
[* Sectaries, followers.]
It most behoves the honorable race
Of mightie peeres true wisedome to sustaine, 80
And with their noble countenaunce to grace
The learned forheads, without gifts or game:
Or rather learnd themselves behoves to bee;
That is the girlond of nobilitie.
But ah! all otherwise they doo esteeme 85
Of th’heavenly gift of wisdomes influence,
And to be learned it a base thing deeme:
Base minded they that want intelligence;
For God himselfe for wisedome most is praised,
And men to God thereby are nighest raised. 90
But they doo onely strive themselves to raise
Through pompous pride, and foolish vanitie;
In th’eyes of people they put all their praise,
And onely boast of armes and auncestrie:
But vertuous deeds, which did those armes first give
To their grandsyres, they care not to atchive. 96
So I, that doo all noble feates professe
To register and sound in trump of gold,
Through their bad dooings, or base slothfulnesse,
Finde nothing worthie to be writ, or told: 100
For better farre it were to hide their names,
Than telling them to blazon out their blames.
So shall succeeding ages have no light
Of things forepast, nor moniments of time;
And all that in this world is worthie hight 105
Shall die in darknesse, and lie hid in slime!
Therefore I mourne with deep harts sorrowing,
Because I nothing noble have to sing.
With that she raynd such store of streaming teares,
That could have made a stonie heart to weep; 110
And all her sisters rent* their golden heares,
And their faire faces with salt humour steep.
So ended shee: and then the next anew
Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew.
[* Rent, rend.]
O, who shall powre into my swollen eyes 115
A sea of teares that never may be dryde,
A brasen voice that may with shrilling cryes
Pierce the dull heavens and fill the ayër wide,
And yron sides that sighing may endure,
To waile the wretchednes of world impure! 120
Ah, wretched world! the den of wickednesse,
Deformd with filth and fowle iniquitie;
Ah, wretched world! the house of heavinesse,
Fild with the wreaks of mortall miserie;
Ah, wretched world, and all that is therein! 125
The vassals of Gods wrath, and slaves of sin.
Most miserable creature under sky
Man without understanding doth appeare;
For all this worlds affliction he thereby,
And fortunes freakes, is wisely taught to beare: 130
Of wretched life the onely ioy shee is.
And th’only comfort in calamities.
She armes the brest with constant patience
Against the bitter throwes of dolours darts:
She solaceth with rules of sapience 135
The gentle minds, in midst of worldlie smarts:
When he is sad, shee seeks to make him merie,
And doth refresh his sprights when they be werie.
But he that is of reasons skill bereft,
And wants the staffe of wisedome him to stay, 140
Is like a ship in midst of tempest left
Withouten helme or pilot her to sway:
Full sad and dreadfull is that ships event;
So is the man that wants intendiment*.
[* Intendiment, understanding.]
Whie then doo foolish men so much despize 145
The precious store of this celestiall riches?
Why doo they banish us, that patronize
The name of learning? Most unhappie wretches!
The which lie drowned in deep wretchednes,
Yet doo not see their owne unhappines. 150
My part it is and my professed skill
The stage with tragick buskin to adorne,
And fill the scene with plaint and outcries shrill
Of wretched persons, to misfortune borne:
But none more tragick matter I can finde 155
Than this, of men depriv’d of sense and minde.
For all mans life me seemes a tragedy,
Full of sad sights and sore catastrophees;
First comming to the world with weeping eye,
Where all his dayes, like dolorous trophees, 160
Are heapt with spoyles of fortune and of feare,
And he at last laid forth on balefull beare.
So all with rufull spectacles is fild,
Fit for Megera or Persephone;
But I that in true tragedies am skild, 165
The flowre of wit, finde nought to busie me:
Therefore I mourne, and pitifully mone,
Because that mourning matter I have none.
Then gan she wofully to waile, and wring
Her wretched hands in lamentable wise; 170
And all her sisters, thereto answering,
Threw forth lowd shrieks and drerie dolefull cries.
So rested she: and then the next in rew
Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew.
Where be the sweete delights of learnings treasure, 175
That wont with comick sock to beautefie
The painted theaters, and fill with pleasure
The listners eyes, and eares with melodie,
In which I late was wont to raine as queene,
And maske in mirth with graces well beseene? 180
O, all is gone! and all that goodly glee,
Which wont to be the glorie of gay wits,
Is layd abed, and no where now to see;
And in her roome unseemly Sorrow sits,
With hollow browes and greisly countenaunce 185
Marring my ioyous gentle dalliaunce.
And him beside sits ugly Barbarisme,
And brutish Ignorance, ycrept of late
Out of dredd darknes of the deep abysme,
Where being bredd, he light and heaven does hate:
They in the mindes of men now tyrannize, 191
And the faire scene with rudenes foule disguize.
All places they with follie have possest,
And with vaine toyes the vulgare entertaine;
But me have banished, with all the rest 195
That whilome wont to wait upon my traine,
Fine Counterfesaunce*, and unhurtfull Sport,
Delight, and Laughter, deckt in seemly sort.
[* Counterfesaunce, mimicry.]
All these, and all that els the comick stage
With seasoned wit and goodly pleasance graced, 200
By which mans life in his likest imáge
Was limned forth, are wholly now defaced;
And those sweete wits which wont the like to frame
Are now despizd, and made a laughing game.
And he, the man whom Nature selfe had made 205
To mock her selfe, and truth to imitate,
With kindly counter* under mimick shade,
Our pleasant Willy, ah! is dead of late:
With whom all ioy and iolly meriment
Is also deaded, and in dolour drent**. 210
[* Counter, counterfeit.]
[** Drent, drowned.]
In stead thereof scoffing Scurrilitie,
And scornfull Follie with Contempt is crept,
Rolling in rymes of shameles ribaudrie
Without regard, or due decorum kept;
Each idle wit at will presumes to make*, 215
And doth the learneds taske upon him take.
[* Make, write poetry.]
But that same gentle spirit, from whose pen
Large streames of honnie and sweete nectar flowe,
Scorning the boldnes of such base-borne men,
Which dare their follies forth so rashlie throwe, 220
Doth rather choose to sit in idle cell,
Than so himselfe to mockerie to sell.
So am I made the servant of the manie,
And laughing stocke of all that list to scorne,
Not honored nor cared for of anie, 225
But loath’d of losels* as a thing forlorne:
Therefore I mourne and sorrow with the rest,
Untill my cause of sorrow be redrest.
[* Losels, worthless fellows.]
Therewith she lowdly did lament and shrike,
Pouring forth streames of teares abundantly; 230
And all her sisters, with compassion like,
The breaches of her singulfs* did supply.
So rested shee: and then the next in rew
Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew.
[* I.e. the pauses of her sighs.]
Like as the dearling of the summers pryde, 235
Faire Philomele, when winters stormie wrath
The goodly fields, that earst so gay were dyde
In colours divers, quite despoyled hath,
All comfortlesse doth hide her chearlesse head
During the time of that her widowhead, 240
So we, that earst were wont in sweet accord
All places with our pleasant notes to fill,
Whilest favourable times did us afford
Free libertie to chaunt our charmes at will,
All comfortlesse upon the bared bow*, 245
Like wofull culvers**, doo sit wayling now.
[* Bow, bough.]
[** Culvers, doves.]
For far more bitter storme than winters stowre*
The beautie of the world hath lately wasted,
And those fresh buds, which wont so faire to flowre,
Hath marred quite, and all their blossoms blasted; 250
And those yong plants, which wont with fruit t’abound,
Now without fruite or leaves are to be found.
[* Stowre, violence.]
A stonie coldnesse hath benumbd the sence
And livelie spirits of each living wight,
And dimd with darknesse their intelligence, 255
Darknesse more than Cymerians daylie night:
And monstrous Error, flying in the ayre,
Hath mard the face of all that semed fayre.
Image of hellish horrour, Ignorance,
Borne in the bosome of the black abysse, 260
And fed with Furies milke for sustenaunce
Of his weake infancie, begot amisse
By yawning Sloth on his owne mother Night,—
So hee his sonnes both syre and brother hight,—
He, armd with blindnesse and with boldnes stout, 265
(For blind is bold,) hath our fayre light defaced;
And, gathering unto him a ragged rout
Of Faunes and Satyres, hath our dwellings raced*,
And our chast bowers, in which all vertue rained,
With brutishnesse and beastlie filth hath stained. 270
[* Raced, razed.]
The sacred springs of horsefoot Helicon,
So oft bedeawed with our learned layes,
And speaking streames of pure Castalion,
The famous witnesse of our wonted praise,
They trampled have with their fowle footings trade*,
And like to troubled puddles have them made. 276
[* Trade, tread.]
Our pleasant groves, which planted were with paines,
That with our musick wont so oft to ring,
And arbors sweet, in which the shepheards swaines
Were wont so oft their pastoralls to sing, 280
They have cut downe, and all their pleasaunce mard,
That now no pastorall is to bee hard.
In stead of them, fowle goblins and shriek-owles
With fearfull howling do all places fill,
And feeble eccho now laments and howles, 285
The dreadfull accents of their outcries shrill.
So all is turned into wildernesse,
Whilest Ignorance the Muses doth oppresse.
And I, whose ioy was earst with spirit full
To teach the warbling pipe to sound aloft, 290
My spirits now dismayd with sorrow dull,
Doo mone my miserie in silence soft.
Therefore I mourne and waile incessantly,
Till please the heavens affoord me remedy.
Therewith shee wayled with exceeding woe, 295
And pitious lamentation did make;
And all her sisters, seeing her doo soe,
With equall plaints her sorrowe did partake.
So rested shee: and then the next in rew
Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew. 300
Whoso hath in the lap of soft delight
Beene long time luld, and fed with pleasures sweet,
Feareles through his own fault or Fortunes spight
To tumble into sorrow and regreet,
Yf chaunce him fall into calamitie, 305
Findes greater burthen of his miserie.
So wee, that earst in ioyance did abound,
And in the bosome of all blis did sit,
Like virgin queenes, with laurell garlands cround,
For vertues meed and ornament of wit, 310
Sith Ignorance our kingdome did confound,
Bee now become most wretched wightes on ground.
And in our royall thrones, which lately stood
In th’hearts of men to rule them carefully,
He now hath placed his accursed brood, 315
By him begotten of fowle Infamy;
Blind Error, scornefull Follie, and base Spight,
Who hold by wrong that wee should have by right.
They to the vulgar sort now pipe and sing,
And make them merrie with their fooleries; 320
They cherelie chaunt, and rymes at randon fling,
The fruitfull spawne of their ranke fantasies;
They feede the eares of fooles with flattery,
And good men blame, and losels* magnify.
[* Losels, worthless fellows.]
All places they doo with their toyes possesse, 325
And raigne in liking of the multitude;
The schooles they till with fond newfanglenesse,
And sway in court with pride and rashnes rude;
Mongst simple shepheards they do boast their skill,
And say their musicke matcheth Phoebus quill. 330
The noble hearts to pleasures they allure,
And tell their Prince that learning is but vaine;
Faire ladies loves they spot with thoughts impure,
And gentle mindes with lewd delights distaine;
Clerks* they to loathly idlenes entice, 335
And fill their bookes with discipline of vice.
[* Clerks, scholars.]
So every where they rule and tyrannize,
For their usurped kingdomes maintenaunce,
The whiles we silly maides, whom they dispize
And with reprochfull scorne discountenaunce, 340
From our owne native heritage exilde,
Walk through the world of every one revilde.
Nor anie one doth care to call us in,
Or once vouchsafeth us to entertaine,
Unlesse some one perhaps of gentle kin, 345
For pitties sake, compassion our paine,
And yeeld us some reliefe in this distresse;
Yet to be so reliev’d is wretchednesse.
So wander we all carefull comfortlesse,
Yet none cloth care to comfort us at all; 350
So seeke we helpe our sorrow to redresse,
Yet none vouchsafes to answere to our call;
Therefore we mourne and pittilesse complaine,
Because none living pittieth our paine.
With that she wept and wofullie waymented, 355
That naught on earth her griefe might pacifie;
And all the rest her dolefull din augmented
With shrikes, and groanes, and grievous agonie.
So ended shee: and then the next in rew
Began her piteous plaint, as doth ensew. 360
Ye gentle Spirits breathing from above,
Where ye in Venus silver bowre were bred,
Thoughts halfe devine, full of the fire of love,
With beawtie kindled, and with pleasure fed,
Which ye now in securitie possesse, 365
Forgetfull of your former heavinesse,—
Now change the tenor of your ioyous layes,
With which ye use your loves to deifie,
And blazon foorth an earthlie beauties praise
Above the compasse of the arched skie: 370
Now change your praises into piteous cries,
And eulogies turne into elegies.
Such as ye wont, whenas those bitter stounds*
Of raging love first gan you to torment,
And launch your hearts with lamentable wounds 375
Of secret sorrow and sad languishment,
Before your loves did take you unto grace;
Those now renew, as fitter for this place.
[* Stounds, hours.]
For I that rule in measure moderate
The tempest of that stormie passion, 380
And use to paint in rimes the troublous state
Of lovers life in likest fashion,
Am put from practise of my kindlie** skill,
Banisht by those that love with leawdnes fill.
[* Kindlie, natural.]
Love wont to be schoolmaster of my skill, 385
And the devicefull matter of my song;
Sweete love devoyd of villanie or ill,
But pure and spotles, as at first he sprong
Out of th’Almighties bosome, where he nests;
From thence infused into mortall brests. 390
Such high conceipt of that celestiall fire,
The base-borne brood of Blindnes cannot gesse,
Ne ever dare their dunghill thoughts aspire
Unto so loftie pitch of perfectnesse,
But rime at riot, and doo rage in love, 395
Yet little wote what doth thereto behove.
Faire Cytheree, the mother of delight
And queene of beautie, now thou maist go pack;
For lo! thy kingdoms is defaced quight,
Thy scepter rent, and power put to wrack; 400
And thy gay sonne, that winged God of Love,
May now goe prune his plumes like ruffed* dove.
[* Ruffed, ruffled.]
And ye three twins, to light by Venus brought,
The sweete companions of the Muses late,
From whom whatever thing is goodly thought 405
Doth borrow grace, the fancie to aggrate*,
Go beg with us, and be companions still,
As heretofore of good, so now of ill.
[* Aggrate, please.]
For neither you nor we shall anie more
Finde entertainment or in court or schoole: 410
For that which was accounted heretofore
The learneds meed is now lent to the foole;
He sings of love and maketh loving layes,
And they him heare, and they him highly prayse.
With that she powred foorth a brackish flood 415
Of bitter teares, and made exceeding mone;
And all her sisters, seeing her sad mood,
With lowd laments her answered all at one.
So ended she: and then the next in rew
Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew. 420
To whom shall I my evill case complaine,
Or tell the anguish of my inward smart,
Sith none is left to remedie my paine,
Or deignes to pitie a perplexed hart;
But rather seekes my sorrow to augment 425
With fowle reproach, and cruell banishment?
For they to whom I used to applie
The faithfull service of my learned skill,
The goodly off-spring of loves progenie,
That wont the world with famous acts to fill, 430
Whose living praises in heroick style,
It is my chiefe profession to compyle,—
They, all corrupted through the rust of time,
That doth all fairest things on earth deface,
Or through unnoble sloth, or sinfull crime, 435
That doth degenerate the noble race,
Have both desire of worthie deeds forlorne,
And name of learning utterly doo scorne.
Ne doo they care to have the auncestrie
Of th’old heroes memorizde anew; 440
Ne doo they care that late posteritie
Should know their names, or speak their praises dew,
But die, forgot from whence at first they sprong,
As they themselves shalbe forgot ere long.
What bootes it then to come from glorious 445
Forefathers, or to have been nobly bredd?
What oddes twixt Irus and old Inachus,
Twixt best and worst, when both alike are dedd,
If none of neither mention should make,
Nor out of dust their memories awake? 450
Or who would ever care to doo brave deed,
Or strive in vertue others to excell,
If none should yeeld him his deserved meed,
Due praise, that is the spur of doing well?
For if good were not praised more than ill, 455
None would choose goodnes of his owne freewill.
Therefore the nurse of vertue I am hight,
And golden trompet of eternitie,
That lowly thoughts lift up to heavens hight,
And mortall men have powre to deifie: 460
Bacchus and Hercules I raisd to heaven,
And Charlemaine amongst the starris seaven.
But now I will my golden clarion rend,
And will henceforth immortalize no more,
Sith I no more finde worthie to commend 465
For prize of value, or for learned lore:
For noble peeres, whom I was wont to raise,
Now onely seeke for pleasure, nought for praise.
Their great revenues all in sumptuous pride
They spend, that nought to learning they may spare;
And the rich fee which poets wont divide 471
Now parasites and sycophants doo share:
Therefore I mourne and endlesse sorrow make,
Both for my selfe and for my sisters sake.
With that she lowdly gan to waile and shrike, 475
And from her eyes a sea of teares did powre;
And all her sisters, with compassion like,
Did more increase the sharpnes of her showre.
So ended she: and then the next in rew
Began her plaint, as doth herein ensew. 480
What wrath of gods, or wicked influence
Of starres conspiring wretched men t’afflict,
Hath powrd on earth this noyous pestilence,
That mortall mindes doth inwardly infect
With love of blindnesse and of ignorance, 485
To dwell in darkenesse without sovenance?*
[* Sovenance, remembrance.]
What difference twixt man and beast is left,
When th’heavenlie light of knowledge is put out,
And th’ornaments of wisdome are bereft?
Then wandreth he in error and in doubt, 490
Unweeting* of the danger hee is in,
Through fleshes frailtie and deceipt of sin.
[* Unweeting, unknowing.]
In this wide world in which they wretches stray,
It is the onelie comfort which they have,
It is their light, their loadstarre, and their day; 495
But hell, and darkenesse, and the grislie grave,
Is Ignorance, the enemie of Grace,
That mindes of men borne heavenlie doth debace.
Through knowledge we behold the worlds creation,
How in his cradle first he fostred was; 500
And iudge of Natures cunning operation,
How things she formed of a formelesse mas:
By knowledge wee do learne our selves to knowe,
And what to man, and what to God, wee owe.
From hence wee mount aloft unto the skie, 505
And looke into the christall firmament;
There we behold the heavens great hierarchie,
The starres pure light, the spheres swift movëment,
The spirites and intelligences fayre,
And angels waighting on th’Almighties chayre. 510
And there, with humble minde and high insight,
Th’eternall Makers maiestie wee viewe,
His love, his truth, his glorie, and his might,
And mercie more than mortall men can vew.
O soveraigne Lord, O soveraigne happinesse, 515
To see thee, and thy mercie measurelesse!
Such happines have they that doo embrace
The precepts of my heavenlie discipline;
But shame and sorrow and accursed case
Have they that scorne the schoole of arts divine, 520
And banish me, which do professe the skill
To make men heavenly wise through humbled will.
However yet they mee despise and spight,
I feede on sweet contentment of my thought,
And please my selfe with mine owne self-delight, 525
In contemplation of things heavenlie wrought:
So, loathing earth, I looke up to the sky,
And being driven hence, I thether fly.
Thence I behold the miserie of men,
Which want the blis that wisedom would them breed.
And like brute beasts doo lie in loathsome den 531
Of ghostly darkenes and of gastlie dreed:
For whom I mourne, and for my selfe complaine,
And for my sisters eake whom they disdaine.
With that shee wept and waild so pityouslie, 535
As if her eyes had beene two springing wells;
And all the rest, her sorrow to supplie,
Did throw forth shrieks and cries and dreery yells.
So ended shee: and then the next in rew
Began her mournfull plaint, as doth ensew. 540
A dolefull case desires a dolefull song,
Without vaine art or curious complements;
And squallid Fortune, into basenes flong,
Doth scorne the pride of wonted ornaments.
Then fittest are these ragged rimes for mee, 545
To tell my sorrowes that exceeding bee.
For the sweet numbers and melodious measures
With which I wont the winged words to tie,
And make a tunefull diapase of pleasures,
Now being let to runne at libertie 550
By those which have no skill to rule them right,
Have now quite lost their naturall delight.
Heapes of huge words uphoorded hideously,
With horrid sound, though having little sence,
They thinke to be chiefe praise of poetry; 555
And, thereby wanting due intelligence,
Have mard the face of goodly poesie,
And made a monster of their fantasie.
Whilom in ages past none might professe
But princes and high priests that secret skill; 560
The sacred lawes therein they wont expresse,
And with deepe oracles their verses fill:
Then was shee held in soveraigne dignitie,
And made the noursling of nobilitie.
But now nor prince nor priest doth her maintayne,
But suffer her prophaned for to bee 566
Of the base vulgar, that with hands uncleane
Dares to pollute her hidden mysterie;
And treadeth under foote hir holie things,
Which was the care of kesars* and of kings. 570
[* Kesars, emperors.]
One onelie lives, her ages ornament,
And myrrour of her Makers maiestie,
That with rich bountie and deare cherishment
Supports the praise of noble poesie;
Ne onelie favours them which it professe, 575
But is her selfe a peereles poetresse.
Most peereles Prince, most peereles Poetresse,
The true Pandora of all heavenly graces,
Divine Elisa, sacred Emperesse!
Live she for ever, and her royall p’laces 580
Be fild with praises of divinest wits,
That her eternize with their heavenlie writs!
Some few beside this sacred skill esteme,
Admirers of her glorious excellence;
Which, being lightned with her beawties beme, 585
Are thereby fild with happie influence,
And lifted up above the worldës gaze,
To sing with angels her immortall praize.
But all the rest, as borne of salvage brood,
And having beene with acorns alwaies fed, 590
Can no whit savour this celestiall food,
But with base thoughts are into blindnesse led,
And kept from looking on the lightsome day:
For whome I waile and weepe all that I may.
Eftsoones* such store of teares shee forth did powre,
As if shee all to water would have gone; 596
And all her sisters, seeing her sad stowre**,
Did weep and waile, and made exceeding mone,
And all their learned instruments did breake:
The rest untold no living tongue can speake. 600
[* Eftsoones, forthwith.]
[** Stowre, disturbance, trouble.]
Ver 15—Palici.. The Palici were children of Jupiter and Thalia, not
Calliope. H.
Ver. 205-210.—There are sufficient reasons for believing that these lines refer to Shakespeare. He had probably written The Two Gentlemen of Verona, and Love’s Labor’s Lost, before the Complaints were published (1591), and no other author had up to this time produced a comedy that would compare with these. For a discussion of this subject, see Collier’s Life, Chap. VII., and Knight’s Biography, pp. 344-348. C.
Wrong’d, yet not daring to expresse my paine,
To you, great Lord, the causer of my care,
In clowdie teares my case I thus complaine
Unto your selfe, that onely privie are.
But if that any Oedipus unware
Shall chaunce, through power of some divining spright,
To reade the secrete of this riddle rare,
And know the purporte of my evill plight,
Let him rest pleased with his owne insight,
Ne further seeke to glose upon the text:
For griefe enough it is to grieved wight
To feele his fault, and not be further vext.
But what so by my selfe may not be showen,
May by this Gnatts complaint be easily knowen*.
[* This riddle has never been guessed. Upton conjectures that Leicester’s displeasure was incurred for “some kind of officious sedulity in Spenser, who much desired to see his patron married to the Queen.” C.]
We now have playde, Augustus, wantonly,
Tuning our song unto a tender Muse,
And, like a cobweb weaving slenderly,
Have onely playde: let thus much then excuse
This Gnats small poeme, that th’whole history 5
Is but a iest; though envie it abuse:
But who such sports and sweet delights doth blame,
Shall lighter seeme than this Gnats idle name.
Hereafter, when as season more secure
Shall bring forth fruit, this Muse shall speak to thee 10
In bigger notes, that may thy sense allure,
And for thy worth frame some fit poesie:
The golden ofspring of Latona pure,
And ornament of great Ioves progenie,
Phoebus, shall be the author of my song, 15
Playing on yvorie harp with silver strong*.
[* Strong, strung.]
He shall inspire my verse with gentle mood,
Of poets prince, whether he woon* beside
Faire Xanthus sprincled with Chimaeras blood,
Or in the woods of Astery abide, 20
Or whereas Mount Parnasse, the Muses brood,
Doth his broad forhead like two hornes divide,
And the sweete waves of sounding Castaly
With liquid foote doth slide downe easily.
[* Woon, dwell.]
Wherefore ye Sisters, which the glorie bee 25
Of the Pierian streames, fayre Naiades,
Go too, and dauncing all in companie,
Adorne that god: and thou holie Pales,
To whome the honest care of husbandrie
Returneth by continuall successe, 30
Have care for to pursue his footing light
Throgh the wide woods and groves with green leaves dight.
Professing thee I lifted am aloft
Betwixt the forrest wide and starrie sky:
And thou, most dread Octavius, which oft 35
To learned wits givest courage worthily,
O come, thou sacred childe, come sliding soft,
And favour my beginnings graciously:
For not these leaves do sing that dreadfull stound*,
When giants bloud did staine Phlegraean ground; 40
[* Stound, time.]
Nor how th’halfe-horsy people, Centaures hight,
Fought with the bloudie Lapithaes at bord;
Nor how the East with tyranous despight
Burnt th’Attick towres, and people slew with sword;
Nor how Mount Athos through exceeding might 45
Was digged downe; nor yron bands abord
The Pontick sea by their huge navy cast,
My volume shall renowne, so long since past.
Nor Hellespont trampled with horses feete,
When flocking Persians did the Greeks affray: 50
But my soft Muse, as for her power more meete,
Delights (with Phoebus friendly leave) to play
An easie running verse with tender feete.
And thou, dread sacred child, to thee alway
Let everlasting lightsome glory strive, 55
Through the worlds endles ages to survive.
And let an happie roome remaine for thee
Mongst heavenly ranks, where blessed soules do rest;
And let long lasting life with ioyous glee,
As thy due meede that thou deservest best, 60
Hereafter many yeares remembred be
Amongst good men, of whom thou oft are blest.
Live thou for ever in all happinesse!
But let us turne to our first businesse.
The fiery Sun was mounted now on Light 65
Up to the heavenly towers, and shot each where
Out of his golden charet glistering light;
And fayre Aurora, with her rosie heare,
The hatefull darknes now had put to flight;
When as the Shepheard, seeing day appeare, 70
His little goats gan drive out of their stalls,
To feede abroad, where pasture best befalls.
To an high mountaines top he with them went,
Where thickest grasse did cloath the open hills:
They, now amongst the woods and thickets ment* 75
Now in the valleies wandring at their wills,
Spread themselves farre abroad through each descent;
Some on the soft greene grasse feeding their fills,
Some, clambring through the hollow cliffes on hy,
Nibble the bushie shrubs which growe thereby. 80
[* Ment, mingled.]
Others the utmost boughs of trees doe crop,
And brouze the woodbine twigges that freshly bud;
This with full bit* doth catch the utmost top
Of some soft willow, or new growen stud**;
This with sharpe teeth the bramble leaves doth lop, 85
And chaw the tender prickles in her cud;
The whiles another high doth overlooke
Her owne like image in a christall brooke.
[* Bit, bite.]
[** Stud, stock.]
O the great happines which shepheards have,
Who so loathes not too much the poore estate 90
With minde that ill use doth before deprave,
Ne measures all things by the costly rate
Of riotise, and semblants outward brave!
No such sad cares, as wont to macerate
And rend the greedie mindes of covetous men, 95
Do ever creepe into the shepheards den.
Ne cares he if the fleece which him arayes
Be not twice steeped in Assyrian dye;
Ne glistering of golde, which underlayes*
The summer beames, doe blinde his gazing eye; 100
Ne pictures beautie, nor the glauncing rayes
Of precious stones, whence no good commeth by;
Ne yet his cup embost with imagery
Of Baetus or of Alcons vanity.
[* Underlayes, surpasses.]
Ne ought the whelky* pearles esteemeth hee, 105
Which are from Indian seas brought far away:
But with pure brest, from carefull sorrow free,
On the soft grasse his limbs doth oft display,
In sweete spring time, when flowres varietie
With sundrie colours paints the sprincled lay**; 110
There, lying all at ease from guile or spight,
With pype of fennie reedes doth him delight.
[* Whelky, shelly (conchea).]
[** lay, lea.]
There he, lord of himselfe, with palme bedight,
His looser locks doth wrap in wreath of vine:
There his milk-dropping goats be his delight, 115
And fruitefull Pales, and the forrest greene,
And darkesome caves in pleasaunt vallies pight*,
Wheras continuall shade is to be seene,
And where fresh springing wells, as christall neate,
Do alwayes flow, to quench his thirstie heate. 120
[* Pight, placed.]
O! who can lead then a more happie life
Than he, that with cleane minde and heart sincere,
No greedy riches knowes nor bloudie strife,
No deadly fight of warlick fleete doth feare,
Ne runs in perill of foes cruell knife, 125
That in the sacred temples he may reare
A trophee of his glittering spoyles and treasure,
Or may abound in riches above measure.
Of him his God is worshipt with his sythe,
And not with skill of craftsman polished: 130
He ioyes in groves, and makes himselfe full blythe
With sundrie flowers in wilde fieldes gathered,
Ne frankincens he from Panchaea buyth:
Sweete Quiet harbours in his harmeles head,
And perfect Pleasure buildes her ioyous bowre, 135
Free from sad cares, that rich mens hearts devowre.
This all his care, this all his whole indevour,
To this his minde and senses he doth bend,
How he may flow in quiets matchles treasour,
Content with any food that God doth send; 140
And how his limbs, resolv’d through idle leisour,
Unto sweete sleepe he may securely lend,
In some coole shadow from the scorching heat,
The whiles his flock their chawed cuds do eate.
O Flocks, O Faunes, and O ye pleasaunt Springs 145
Of Tempe, where the countrey nymphs are rife,
Through whose not costly care each shepheard sings
As merrie notes upon his rusticke fife
As that Ascraean bard*, whose fame now rings
Through the wide world, and leads as ioyfull life; 150
Free from all troubles and from worldly toyle,
In which fond men doe all their dayes turmoyle.
[* I.e. Hesiod]
In such delights whilst thus his carelesse time
This shepheard drives, upleaning on his batt*,
And on shrill reedes chaunting his rustick rime, 155
Hyperion, throwing foorth his beames full hott,
Into the highest top of heaven gan clime,
And the world parting by an equall lott,
Did shed his whirling flames on either side,
As the great Ocean doth himselfe divide. 160
[* Batt, stick]
Then gan the shepheard gather into one
His stragling goates, and drave them to a foord,
Whose caerule streame, rombling in pible stone,
Crept under mosse as greene as any goord.
Now had the sun halfe heaven overgone, 165
When he his heard back from that water foord
Drave, from the force of Phoebus boyling ray,
Into thick shadowes, there themselves to lay.
Soone as he them plac’d in thy sacred wood,
O Delian goddesse, saw, to which of yore 170
Came the bad daughter of old Cadmus brood,
Cruell Agavè, flying vengeance sore
Of King Nictileus for the guiltie blood
Which she with cursed hands had shed before;
There she halfe frantick, having slaine her sonne, 175
Did shrowd her selfe like punishment to shonne.
Here also playing on the grassy greene,
Woodgods, and Satyres, and swift Dryades,
With many Fairies oft were dauncing seene.
Not so much did Dan Orpheus represse 180
The streames of Hebrus with his songs, I weene,
As that faire troupe of woodie goddesses
Staied thee, O Peneus, powring foorth to thee,
From cheereful lookes, great mirth and gladsome glee.
The verie nature of the place, resounding 185
With gentle murmure of the breathing ayre,
A pleasant bowre with all delight abounding
In the fresh shadowe did for them prepayre,
To rest their limbs with wearines redounding.
For first the high palme-trees, with braunches faire,
Out of the lowly vallies did arise, 191
And high shoote up their heads into the skyes.
And them amongst the wicked lotos grew,
Wicked, for holding guilefully away
Ulysses men, whom rapt with sweetenes new, 195
Taking to hoste*, it quite from him did stay;
And eke those trees, in whose transformed hew
The Sunnes sad daughters waylde the rash decay
Of Phaëton, whose limbs with lightening rent
They gathering up, with sweete teares did lament. 200
[* Hoste, entertain.]
And that same tree*, in which Demophoon,
By his disloyalty lamented sore,
Eternall hurte left unto many one:
Whom als accompanied the oke, of yore 204
Through fatall charmes transferred to such an one:
The oke, whose acornes were our foode before
That Ceres seede of mortall men were knowne,
Which first Triptoleme taught how to be sowne.
[* I.e. the almond-tree.]
Here also grew the rougher-rinded pine,
The great Argoan ships brave ornament, 210
Whom golden fleece did make an heavenly signe;
Which coveting, with his high tops extent,
To make the mountaines touch the starres divine,
Decks all the forrest with embellishment;
And the blacke holme that loves the watrie vale; 215
And the sweete cypresse, signe of deadly bale.
Emongst the rest the clambring yvie grew,
Knitting his wanton armes with grasping hold,
Least that the poplar happely should rew
Her brothers strokes, whose boughes she doth enfold 220
With her lythe twigs, till they the top survew,
And paint with pallid greene her buds of gold.
Next did the myrtle tree to her approach,
Not yet unmindfull of her olde reproach.
But the small birds in their wide boughs embowring 225
Chaunted their sundrie tunes with sweete consent;
And under them a silver spring, forth powring
His trickling streames, a gentle murmure sent;
Thereto the frogs, bred in the slimie scowring
Of the moist moores, their iarring voyces bent; 230
And shrill grashoppers chirped them around:
All which the ayrie echo did resound.
In this so pleasant place the shepheards flocke
Lay everie where, their wearie limbs to rest,
On everie bush, and everie hollow rocke, 235
Where breathe on them the whistling wind mote best;
The whiles the shepheard self, tending his stocke,
Sate by the fountaine side, in shade to rest,
Where gentle slumbring sleep oppressed him
Displaid on ground, and seized everie lim. 240
Of trecherie or traines nought tooke he keep,
But, looslie on the grassie greene dispredd,
His dearest life did trust to careles sleep;
Which, weighing down his drouping drowsie hedd,
In quiet rest his molten heart did steep, 245
Devoid of care, and feare of all falshedd:
Had not inconstant Fortune, bent to ill,
Bid strange mischance his quietnes to spill.
For at his wonted time in that same place
An huge great Serpent, all with speckles pide, 250
To drench himselfe in moorish slime did trace,
There from the boyling heate himselfe to hide:
He, passing by with rolling wreathed pace,
With brandisht tongue the emptie aire did gride*,
And wrapt his scalie boughts** with fell despight, 255
That all things seem’d appalled at his sight.
[* Gride, pierce]
[** Boughts, knots]
Now more and more having himselfe enrolde,
His glittering breast he lifteth up on hie,
And with proud vaunt his head aloft doth holde;
His creste above, spotted with purple die, 260
On everie side did shine like scalie golde;
And his bright eyes, glauncing full dreadfullie,
Did seeme to flame out flakes of flashing fyre,
And with sterne lookes to threaten kindled yre.
Thus wise long time he did himselfe dispace 265
There round about, when as at last he spide,
Lying along before him in that place,
That flocks grand captaine and most trustie guide:
Eftsoones more fierce in visage and in pace,
Throwing his firie eyes on everie side, 270
He commeth on, and all things in his way
Full stearnly rends that might his passage stay.
Much he disdaines that anie one should dare
To come unto his haunt; for which intent
He inly burns, and gins straight to prepare 275
The weapons which Nature to him hath lent;
Fellie he hisseth, and doth fiercely stare,
And hath his iawes with angrie spirits rent,
That all his tract with bloudie drops is stained,
And all his foldes are now in length outstrained. 280
Whom, thus at point prepared, to prevent,
A litle noursling of the humid ayre,
A Gnat, unto the sleepie shepheard went,
And marking where his ey-lids twinckling rare
Shewd the two pearles which sight unto him lent, 285
Through their thin coverings appearing fayre
His little needle there infixing deep,
Warnd him awake, from death himselfe to keep.
Wherewith enrag’d, he fiercely gan upstart,
And with his hand him rashly bruzing slewe 290
As in avengement of his heedles smart,
That streight the spirite out of his senses flew.
And life out of his members did depart:
When, suddenly casting aside his vew,
He spide his foe with felonous intent, 295
And fervent eyes to his destruction bent.
All suddenly dismaid, and hartles quight,
He fled abacke, and, catching hastie holde
Of a yong alder hard beside him pight,
It rent, and streight about him gan beholde 300
What god or fortune would assist his might.
But whether god or fortune made him bold
Its hard to read: yet hardie will he had
To overcome, that made him lesse adrad*.
[* Adrad, terrified]
The scalie backe of that most hideous snake 305
Enwrapped round, oft faining to retire
And oft him to assaile, he fiercely strake
Whereas his temples did his creast front tyre*;
And, for he was but slowe, did slowth off shake,
And, gazing ghastly on, (for feare and yre 310
Had blent** so much his sense, that lesse he feard,)—
Yet, when he saw him slaine, himselfe he cheard.
[* Tyre, encircle]
[** Blent, blinded]
By this the Night forth from the darksome bowre
Of Herebus her teemed* steedes gan call,
And laesie Vesper in his timely howre 315
From golden Oeta gan proceede withall;
Whenas the shepheard after this sharpe stowre**,
Seing the doubled shadowes low to fall,
Gathering his straying flocke, does homeward fare,
And unto rest his wearie ioynts prepare. 320
[* Teemed, harnessed in a team]
[** Stowre, perturbation]
Into whose sense so soone as lighter sleepe
Was entered, and now loosing everie lim,
Sweete slumbring deaw in carelesnesse did steepe,
The image of that Gnat appeard to him,
And in sad tearmes gan sorrowfully weepe, 325
With grieslie countenaunce and visage grim,
Wailing the wrong which he had done of late,
In steed of good, hastning his cruell fate.
Said he, “What have I wretch deserv’d, that thus
Into this bitter bale I am outcast, 330
Whilest that thy life more deare and precious
Was than mine owne, so long as it did last?
I now, in lieu of paines so gracious,
Am tost in th’ayre with everie windie blast:
Thou, safe delivered from sad decay, 335
Thy careles limbs in loose sleep dost display.
“So livest thou; but my poore wretched ghost
Is forst to ferrie over Lethes river,
And spoyld of Charon too and fro am tost.
Seest thou not how all places quake and quiver, 340
Lightned with deadly lamps on everie post?
Tisiphone each where doth shake and shiver
Her flaming fire-brond, encountring me,
Whose lockes uncombed cruell adders be.
“And Cerberus, whose many mouthes doo bay, 345
And barke out flames, as if on fire he fed,
Adowne whose necke, in terrible array,
Ten thousand snakes, cralling about his hed,
Doo hang in heapes, that horribly affray,
And bloodie eyes doo glister firie red, 350
He oftentimes me dreadfullie doth threaten
With painfull torments to be sorely beaten.
“Ay me! that thankes so much should faile of meed,
For that I thee restor’d to life againe,
Even from the doore of death and deadlie dreed. 355
Where then is now the guerdon of my paine?
Where the reward of my so piteous deed?
The praise of pitie vanisht is in vaine,
And th’antique faith of iustice long agone
Out of the land is fled away and gone. 360
“I saw anothers fate approaching fast,
And left mine owne his safëtie to tender;
Into the same mishap I now am cast,
And shun’d destruction doth destruction render:
Not unto him that never hath trespást, 365
But punishment is due to the offender:
Yet let destruction be the punishment,
So long as thankfull will may it relent.
“I carried am into waste wildernesse,
Waste wildernes, amongst Cymerian shades, 370
Where endles paines and hideous heavinesse
Is round about me heapt in darksome glades.
For there huge Othos sits in sad distresse,
Fast bound with serpents that him oft invades,
Far of beholding Ephialtes tide, 375
Which once assai’d to burne this world so wide.
“And there is mournfull Tityus, mindefull yet
Of thy displeasure, O Latona faire;
Displeasure too implacable was it,
That made him meat for wild foules of the ayre: 380
Much do I feare among such fiends to sit;
Much do I feare back to them to repayre,
To the black shadowes of the Stygian shore,
Where wretched ghosts sit wailing evermore.
“There next the utmost brinck doth he abide 385
That did the bankets of the gods bewray,
Whose throat through thirst to nought nigh being dride,
His sense to seeke for ease turnes every way:
And he that in avengement of his pride,
For scorning to the sacred gods to pray, 390
Against a mountaine rolls a mightie stone,
Calling in vaine for rest, and can have none.
“Go ye with them, go, cursed damosells,
Whose bridale torches foule Erynnis tynde*,
And Hymen, at your spousalls sad, foretells 395
Tydings of death and massacre unkinde**:
With them that cruell Colchid mother dwells,
The which conceiv’d in her revengefull minde
With bitter woundes her owne deere babes to slay,
And murdred troupes upon great heapes to lay. 400
[* Tynde, kindled.]
[** Unkinde, unnatural.]
“There also those two Pandionian maides,
Calling on Itis, Itis evermore,
Whom, wretched boy, they slew with guiltie blades;
For whome the Thracian king lamenting sore,
Turn’d to a lapwing, fowlie them upbraydes, 405
And flattering round about them still does sore;
There now they all eternally complaine
Of others wrong, and suffer endles paine.
“But the two brethren* borne of Cadmus blood,
Whilst each does for the soveraignty contend, 411
Blinde through ambition, and with vengeance wood**,
Each doth against the others bodie bend
His cursed steele, of neither well withstood,
And with wide wounds their carcases doth rend;
That yet they both doe mortall foes remaine, 415
Sith each with brothers bloudie hand was slaine.
[* I.e. Eteocles and Polynices.]
[** Wood, mad.]
“Ah (waladay!) there is no end of paine,
Nor chaunge of labour may intreated bee:
Yet I beyond all these am carried faine,
Where other powers farre different I see, 420
And must passe over to th’Elisian plaine:
There grim Persephone, encountring mee,
Doth urge her fellow Furies earnestlie
With their bright firebronds me to terrifie.
“There chast Alceste lives inviolate, 425
Free from all care, for that her husbands daies
She did prolong by changing fate for fate:
Lo! there lives also the immortall praise
Of womankinde, most faithfull to her mate,
Penelope; and from her farre awayes 430
A rulesse* rout of yongmen which her woo’d,
All slaine with darts, lie wallowed in their blood.
[* Rulesse, rule-less.]
“And sad Eurydice thence now no more
Must turne to life, but there detained bee
For looking back, being forbid before: 435
Yet was the guilt thereof, Orpheus, in thee!
Bold sure he was, and worthie spirite bore,
That durst those lowest shadowes goe to see,
And could beleeve that anie thing could please
Fell Cerberus, or Stygian powres appease. 440
“Ne feard the burning waves of Phlegeton,
Nor those same mournfull kingdomes, compassed
With rustle horrour and fowle fashion;
And deep digd vawtes*; and Tartar covered
With bloodie night and darke confusion; 445
And iudgement seates, whose iudge is deadlie dred,
A iudge that after death doth punish sore
The faults which life hath trespassed before.
[* Vawtes, vaults.]
“But valiant fortune made Dan Orpheus bolde:
For the swift running rivers still did stand, 450
And the wilde beasts their furie did withhold,
To follow Orpheus musicke through the land:
And th’okes, deep grounded in the earthly molde,
Did move, as if they could him understand; 454
And the shrill woods, which were of sense bereav’d,
Through their hard barke his silver sound receav’d.
“And eke the Moone her hastie steedes did stay,
Drawing in teemes along the starrie skie;
And didst, O monthly Virgin, thou delay
Thy nightly course, to heare his melodie? 460
The same was able, with like lovely lay,
The Queene of Hell to move as easily
To yeeld Eurydice unto her fere,
Backe to be borne, though it unlawfull were.
“She, ladie, having well before approoved 465
The feends to be too cruell and severe,
Observ’d th’appointed way, as her behooved,
Ne ever did her eysight turne arere,
Ne ever spake, ne cause of speaking mooved;
But, cruell Orpheus, thou much crueller, 470
Seeking to kisse her, brok’st the gods decree,
And thereby mad’st her ever damn’d to be.
“Ah! but sweete love of pardon worthie is,
And doth deserve to have small faults remitted;
If Hell at least things lightly done amis 475
Knew how to pardon, when ought is omitted:
Yet are ye both received into blis,
And to the seates of happie soules admitted.
And you beside the honourable band
Of great heroës doo in order stand. 480
“There be the two stout sonnes of AEacus,
Fierce Peleus, and the hardie Telamon,
Both seeming now full glad and ioyeous
Through their syres dreadfull iurisdiction,
Being the iudge of all that horrid hous: 488
And both of them, by strange occasion,
Renown’d in choyce of happie marriage
Through Venus grace, and vertues cariage.
“For th’one was ravisht of his owne bondmaide,
The faire Ixione captiv’d from Troy: 490
But th’other was with Thetis love assaid,
Great Nereus his daughter and his ioy.
On this side them there is a yongman layd,
Their match in glorie, mightie, fierce, and coy,
That from th’Argolick ships, with furious yre, 495
Bett back the furie of the Troian fyre.
“O! who would not recount the strong divorces
Of that great warre, which Troianes oft behelde,
And oft beheld the warlike Greekish forces,
When Teucrian soyle with bloodie rivers swelde, 500
And wide Sigraean shores were spred with corses,
And Simois and Xanthus blood outwelde;
Whilst Hector raged, with outragious minde,
Flames, weapons, wounds, in Greeks fleete to have tynde.
“For Ida selfe, in ayde of that fierce fight, 505
Out of her mountaines ministred supplies;
And like a kindly nourse did yeeld, for spight,
Store of firebronds out of her nourseries
Unto her foster children, that they might
Inflame the navie of their enemies, 510
And all the Rhetaean shore to ashes turne,
Where lay the ships which they did seeke to burne.
“Gainst which the noble sonne of Telamon
Oppos’d himselfe, and thwarting* his huge shield,
Them battell bad; gainst whom appeard anon 515
Hector, the glorie of the Troian field:
Both fierce and furious in contention
Encountred, that their mightie strokes so shrild
As the great clap of thunder, which doth ryve
The railing heavens and cloudes asunder dryve. 520
[* Thwarting, interposing.]
“So th’one with fire and weapons did contend
To cut the ships from turning home againe
To Argos; th’other strove for to defend*
The force of Vulcane with his might and maine.
Thus th’one Aeacide did his fame extend: 525
But th’other ioy’d that, on the Phrygian playne
Having the blood of vanquisht Hector shedd,
He compast Troy thrice with his bodie dedd.
[* Defend, keep off.]
“Againe great dole on either partie grewe,
That him to death unfaithfull Paris sent; 530
And also him that false Ulysses slewe,
Drawne into danger through close ambushment;
Therefore from him Laërtes sonne his vewe
Doth turn aside, and boasts his good event
In working of Strymonian Rhaesus fall, 535
And efte* in Dolons slye surprÿsall.
[* Efte, again.]
“Againe the dreadfull Cycones him dismay,
And blacke Laestrigones, a people stout;
Then greedie Scilla, under whom there bay
Manie great bandogs, which her gird about; 540
Then doo the AEtnean Cyclops him affray,
And deep Charybdis gulphing in and out;
Lastly the squalid lakes of Tartarie,
And griesly feends of hell him terrifie.
“There also goodly Agamemnon bosts, 545
The glorie of the stock of Tantalus,
And famous light of all the Greekish hosts;
Under whose conduct most victorious,
The Dorick flames consum’d the Iliack posts.
Ah! but the Greekes themselves, more dolorous, 550
To thee, O Troy, paid penaunce for thy fall,
In th’Hellespont being nigh drowned all.
“Well may appeare by proofe of their mischaunce
The chaungfull turning of mens slipperie state,
That none whom fortune freely doth advaunce 555
Himselfe therefore to heaven should elevate:
For loftie type of honour through the glaunce
Of envies dart is downe in dust prostrate,
And all that vaunts in worldly vanitie
Shall fall through fortunes mutabilitie. 560
“Th’Argolicke power returning home againe,
Enricht with spoyles of th’Ericthonian towre,
Did happie winde and weather entertaine,
And with good speed the fomie billowes scowre:
No signe of storme, no feare of future paine, 565
Which soone ensued them with heavie stowre*:
Nereïs to the seas a token gave,
The whiles their crooked keeles the surges clave.
[* Stowre, turmoil, uproar.]
“Suddenly, whether through the gods decree,
Or haplesse rising of some froward starre, 570
The heavens on everie side enclowded bee:
Black stormes and fogs are blowen up from farre,
That now the pylote can no loadstarre see,
But skies and seas doo make most dreadfull warre;
The billowes striving to the heavens to reach, 575
And th’heavens striving them for to impeach*.
[* Impeach, hinder.]
“And, in avengement of their bold attempt,
Both sun and starres and all the heavenly powres
Conspire in one to wreake their rash contempt,
And downe on them to fall from highest towres: 580
The skie, in pieces seeming to be rent,
Throwes lightning forth, and haile, and harmful showres,
That death on everie side to them appeares,
In thousand formes, to worke more ghastly feares.
“Some in the greedie flouds are sunke and drent*; 585
Some on the rocks of Caphareus are throwne;
Some on th’Euboick cliffs in pieces rent;
Some scattred on the Hercaean** shores unknowne;
And manie lost, of whom no moniment
Remaines, nor memorie is to be showne: 590
Whilst all the purchase@ of the Phrigian pray,
Tost on salt billowes, round about doth stray.
[* Drent, drowned.]
[** Hercaean should probably be AEgean.]
[@ Purchase, booty.]
“Here manie other like heroës bee,
Equall in honour to the former crue,
Whom ye in goodly seates may placed see, 595
Descended all from Rome by linage due;
From Rome, that holds the world in sovereigntie,
And doth all nations unto her subdue:
Here Fabii and Decii doo dwell,
Horatii that in vertue did excell. 600
“And here the antique fame of stout Camill
Doth ever live; and constant Curtius,
Who, stifly bent his vowed life to spill
For countreyes health, a gulph most hideous
Amidst the towne with his owne corps did fill, 605
T’appease the Powers; and prudent Mutius,
Who in his flesh endur’d the scorching flame,
To daunt his foe by ensample of the same.
“And here wise Curius, companion
Of noble vertues, lives in endles rest; 610
And stout Flaminius, whose devotion
Taught him the fires scorn’d furie to detest;
And here the praise of either Scipion
Abides in highest place above the best,
To whom the ruin’d walls of Carthage vow’d, 615
Trembling their forces, sound their praises lowd.
“Live they for ever through their lasting praise!
But I, poore wretch, am forced to retourne
To the sad lakes that Phoebus sunnie rayes
Doo never see, where soules doo alwaies mourne; 620
And by the wayling shores to waste my dayes,
Where Phlegeton with quenchles flames doth burne;
By which iust Minos righteous soules doth sever
From wicked ones, to live in blisse for ever.
“Me therefore thus the cruell fiends of hell, 625
Girt with long snakes and thousand yron chaynes,
Through doome of that their cruell iudge compell,
With bitter torture and impatient paines,
Cause of my death and iust complaint to tell.
For thou art he whom my poore ghost complaines 630
To be the author of her ill unwares,
That careles hear’st my intollerable cares.
“Them therefore as bequeathing to the winde,
I now depart, returning to thee never,
And leave this lamentable plaint behinde. 635
But doo thou haunt the soft downe-rolling river,
And wilde greene woods and fruitful pastures minde,
And let the flitting aire my vaine words sever.”
Thus having said, he heavily departed
With piteous crie that anie would have smarted. 640
Now, when the sloathfull fit of lifes sweete rest
Had left the heavie Shepheard, wondrous cares
His inly grieved minde full sore opprest;
That balefull sorrow he no longer beares
For that Gnats death, which deeply was imprest, 645
But bends what ever power his aged yeares
Him lent, yet being such as through their might
He lately slue his dreadfull foe in fight.
By that same river lurking under greene,
Eftsoones* he gins to fashion forth a place, 650
And, squaring it in compasse well beseene**,
There plotteth out a tombe by measured space:
His yron-headed spade tho making cleene,
To dig up sods out of the flowrie grasse,
His worke he shortly to good purpose brought, 655
Like as he had conceiv’d it in his thought.
[* Eftsoones, immediately.]
[** Well beseene, seemly.]
An heape of earth he hoorded up on hie,
Enclosing it with banks on everie side,
And thereupon did raise full busily
A little mount, of greene turffs edifide*; 660
And on the top of all, that passers by
Might it behold, the toomb he did provide
Of smoothest marble stone in order set,
That never might his luckie scape forget.
[* Edifide, built.]
And round about he taught sweete flowres to growe; 665
The Rose, engrained in pure scarlet die;
The Lilly fresh, and Violet belowe;
The Marigolde, and cherefull Rosemarie;
The Spartan Mirtle, whence sweet gumb does flowe;
The purple Hyacinths, and fresh Costmarie, 670
And Saffron, sought for in Cilician soyle,
And Lawrell, th’ornament of Phoebus toyle:
Fresh Rhododaphne, and the Sabine flowre*,
Matching the wealth of th’auncient Frankincence;
And pallid Yvie, building his owne bowre; 675
And Box, yet mindfull of his olde offence;
Red Amaranthus, lucklesse paramour;
Oxeye still greene, and bitter Patience;
Ne wants there pale Narcisse, that, in a well
Seeing his beautie, in love with it fell. 680
[* Sabine flowre, a kind of juniper, the savine.]
And whatsoever other flowre of worth,
And whatso other hearb of lovely hew
The ioyous Spring out of the ground brings forth,
To cloath her selfe in colours fresh and new,
He planted there, and reard a mount of earth, 685
In whose high front was writ as doth ensue:
To thee, small Gnat, in lieu of his life saved, The Shepheard hath thy deaths record engraved.
VIRGILS GNAT. This is a very skilful elaboration of the Culex, a poem attributed, without reason, to Virgil. The original, which is crabbed and pedantic, where it is not unintelligible from corruption, is here rendered with sufficient fidelity to the sense, but with such perspicuity, elegance, and sweetness, as to make Spenser’s performance too good a poem to be called a translation. C.