"That ill," said Hobbinol," they him requite; For having loved ever one most dear,
He is repaid with scorn and foul despite,
That yrks each gentle heart which it doth hear." "Indeed," said Lucid, "I have often heard Fair Rosalinde of divers fouly blamed
For being to that swain too cruell hard,
That her bright glory else hath much defamed: 910
But who can tell what cause had that fair maid
To use him so that loved her so well?
Or who with blame can justly her upbraid
For loving not? for who can love compel ;
And sooth to say, it is fool-hardy-thing
Rashly to witen creatures so divinė;
For demi-gods they be, and first did spring
From heaven, though graft in frailness feminine.
And well I wote that oft I heard it spoken,
How one that fairest Helene did revile,
Through judgment of the gods, to been ywroken,
Lost both his eyes, and so remain'd long while,
Till he recanted had his wicked rimes,
And made amends to her with treble praise:
Beware, therefore, ye Grooms, I read betimes, 925
How rashly blame of Rosalinde ye raise."
"Ah! Shepherds," then said Colin, “ye ne weet How great a guilt upon your heads ye draw, To make so bold a doom with words unmeet, Of things celestial, which ye never saw; For she is not like as the other crew
Of shepherds' daughters which emongst you be,
But of diviné regard and heavenly hue,
Excelling all that ever ye did see.
Not then to her that scorned thing so base,
But to my self the blame, that lookt so hie;
So high her thoughts as she her self have place,
And loath each lowly thing with lofty eye:
Yet so much grace let her vouchsafe to grant
To simple swain, sith her I may not love,
Yet that I may her honour paravaunt,
And praise her worth, though far my wit above;
Such grace shall be some guerdon for the grief
And long affliction which I have endured;
Such grace sometimes shall give me some relief 94.5
And ease of pain, which cannot be recured.
And ye, my fellow-Shepherds, which do see
And hear the languors of my too long dying,
Unto the world for ever witness be
That her's I die, nought to the world denying 950
This simple trophy of her great conquest."
So having ended, he from ground did rise, And after him uprose eke all the rest ; All loth to part, but that the glooming skies Warn'd them to draw their bleating flocks to rest.
To the most noble and excellent Lord,
THE EARL OF LEICESTER.
WRONG'D, yet not daring to express my pain,
To you (great Lord) the causer of my care,
In cloudy tears my case I thus complain
Unto your self, that only privy are;
But if that any Oedipus, unware,
Shall chance, through power of some divining spright,
To read the secret of this riddle rare,
And know the purport of my evil plight,
Let him be pleased with his own insight,
Ne further seek to glose upon the text;
For grief enough it is to grieved wight
To feel this fault, and not be further vext :
But what so by my self may not be shown,
May by this Gnat's complaint be easily known.
WE now have plaid (Augustus) wantonly,
Tuning our song unto a tender Muse,
And like a cobweb weaving slenderly,
Have only playd; let thus much then excuse
This Gnat's small Poem, that the whole history
Is but a jest, tho Envy it abuse;
But who such sports and sweet delights doth blame, Shall lighter seem than this Gnat's idle name.
Hereafter, when as season more secure
Shall bring forth fruit, this Muse shall speake to
In bigger notes, that may thy sense allure,
And for thy worth frame some fit poesy;
The golden offspring of Latona pure,
And ornament of great Jove's progeny,
Phoebus shall be the author of my song,
Playing on ivory harp with silver strong.
He shall inspire my verse with gentle mood
Of poet's prince, whether he woone beside
Fair Xanthus sprinkled with Chimæras blood,
Or in the woods of Astery abide.
Or whereas Mount Parnasse, the Muses' brood,
Doth his broad forehead like two horns divide,
And the sweet waves of sounding Castaly,
With liquid foot doth slide down easily.
IV.
Wherefore ye Sisters, which the glory be
Of the Pierian streams, fair Naiades,
Go to, and dancing all in company,
Adorn that god. And thou, holy Pales!
To whom the honest care of husbandry
Returneth by continual success,
Have care for to pursue his footing light,
Through the wide woods and groves, with green
leaves dight.
Professing thee I lifted am aloft
Betwixt the forest wide and starry sky;
And thou, most drad Octavius, which oft
To learned wits giv'st couragé worthily,
O come, (thou sacred Child!) come sliding soft,
And favour my beginnings graciously;
For not these leaves do sing that dreadful stound,
When giants' blood did stain Phlegræan ground.
Nor how th' half-horsie people, Centaures hight,
Fought with the bloodie Lapithaes at bord;
Nor how the East, with tyrannous despight,
Burnt th' Attick towers, and people slew with
sword;
Nor how Mount Athos, through exceeding might,
Was digged down; nor yron bands abord
The Pontick Sea by their huge navy cast,
My volume shall renown, so long since past.
Nor Hellespont, trampled with horses' feet,
When flocking Persians did the Greeks affray;
But my soft Muse, as for her power more meet,
Delights (with Phoebus' friendly leave) to play
An easie running verse with tender feet.
And thou, (drad sacred Child !) to thee alway
Let everlasting lightsom glory strive
Through the world's endless ages to survive.
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