« EdellinenJatka »
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 Chimæraş 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.
Wherefore ye Sisters, which the glory be
Of the Pierian streams, fair Naiadesy
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
V. Professing thee I lifted am aloft Betwixt the forest wide and starry sky; And thou, most drad Octavius, which oft To learped wits giv'st courage worthily, O come, (thou sacred Child !) come sliding softy And favour my beginnings graciously; For not these leaves do sing that dreadful stound, When giants' blood did stain Phlegræan ground.
VI. 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.
VII. 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 Phæbus' 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.
VIII. And let an happy room remain for thee Mongst heavenly ranks, where blessed souls do rest; And let long lasting life with joyous glee, As thy due meed that thou deservest best, Hereafter many years remembred be Amongst good men, of whom thou oft art blest. Live thou for ever in all happiness. But let us turn to our first business.
The fiery sun was mounted now on hight
Up to the heavenly towers, and shot each where
Out of his golden charet glistering light,
And fair Aurora with her rosie hair,
That hateful darkness now had put to flight,
When as the shepherd seeing day appear,
His little goats 'gan drive out of their stalls,
To feed abroad where pasture best befalls.
X. To an high mountain's top he with them went, Where thickest grass did cloath the open hills; They now amongst the woods and thickets ment, Now in the valleys wandring at their wills, Spread themselves far abroad through each descent; Some on the soft green grass feeding their fills, Some clambring through the hollow cliffs on hie, Nibble the bushy shrubs which grow thereby:
Others the utmost boughs of trees do crop,
And brouze the woodbine twigs that freshly bud;
This with full bit doth catch the utmost top
Of some soft willow or new growen stud;
This with sharp teeth the bramble-leaves doth lop
And chaw the tender prickles in her cud,
The whiles another high doth over-look
Her own like image in a crystal brook.
O the great happiness which shepherds have
Who-so loaths not too much the poor estate,
With mind 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 greedy minds of covetous men,
Do ever creep into the shepherd's den.
Ne cares he if the fleece which him arrays
Be not twice steeped in Assyrian dye,
Ne glistering of gold, which underlays
The summer beams, do blind his gazing eye;
Ne pictures beauty, nor the glancing rays
Of precious stones, whence no good cometh by;
Ne yet his cup embost with imagery
Of Bætus, or of Alcon's vanity.
Ne ought the whelky pearls esteemeth-he,
Which are from Indian seas brought far away,
But with pure breast, from careful sorrow free,
On the soft grass his limbs doth oft display
In sweet spring-time, when flowers' variety
With sundry colours paints the sprinkled lay :
There lying all at ease from guile or spright,
With pipe of fenny reeds doth him delight..
There he, lord of himself, with palm bedight,
His looser locks doth wrap in wreath of vine;
There his milk-dropping goats be his delight,
And fruitful Pales, and the forest green,
And darksom caves in pleasant vallies pight,
Whereas continual shade is to be seen,
And where fresh springing wells, as crystal neats,
Do always flow to quench his thirsty heat.
Olwho can lead then a more happy life
Than he, that with clean mind, and heart sincerc,.
No greedy riches knows nor bloody strife,
No deadly fight of warlike fleet doth fear,
Ne runs in peril of foes cruel knife,
That in the sacred temples he may rear
A trophee of his glittering spoils and treasure,
may abound with riches above measure ?