any fand

Shrinks up his dainty leaves, if
You throw thereon, or touch it with your hand:
So with the chance the heavy wood nymphs
told,

The river (inly touch'd) began to fold

His arms acrofs, and (while the torrent raves)
Shrunk his grave head beneath his filver waves.
Since when he never on his banks appears
But as one frantic: when the clouds spend tears,
He think they of his woes compaffion take,
(And not a fpring but weeps for Walla's fake)
And then he often (to bemoan her lack)
Like to a mourner goes, his waters black,

LOOK

as a lover with a ling'ring kifs
About to part with the best half that's his,
Fain would he stay but that he fears to do it,
And curfeth time for so fast haft'ning to it;
Now takes his leave, and yet begins anew
To make lefs vows than are esteemed true,
Then fays, he must be gone, and then doth find
Something he should have spoke that's out
mind,

And whilft he ftands to look for't in her eyes,
Their fad fweet glance fo tie his faculties,
To think from what he parts, that he is now
As far from leaving her, or knowing how,
As when he came; begins his former ftrain,
To kifs, to vow, and take his leave again,

of

Soon make me stay: and think that Ordgar's fíos
(Admonish'd by a heavenly vifion)
Not without caufe did that apt fabric rear,
(Wherein we nothing now but echoes hear,
That wont with heavenly anthems daily ring,
And dueft praises to the greatest King)

In this choice plot; fince he could light upon
No place fo fit for contemplation.
Though I a while muft leave this happy soil,
And follow Thetis in a pleafing toil;
Yet when I fhall return, I'll strive to draw
The nymphs by Thamar, Tavy, Ex, and Tau,
By Turridge, Otter, Ock, by Dert and Plym,
With all the Nyiads that fifh and fwim
In their clear ftreams, to these our rifing downs,

doth go,

Apt to retire and loth to leave her fo;
Brave ftream, so part I from thy flow'ry bank,
Where first I breath'd, and (though unworthy)
drank

Thofe facred waters which the mufes bring
To woo Britannia to their ceafslefs fpring.
Now would I on, but that the cryftal⚫ wells,
The fertile meadows, and their pleasing smells,
The woods delightful, and the scatter'd groves,
(Where, many nymphs walk with their chafter
loves

Vide de amanitate loci Malmeb. 2 lib. de geft. Pentif. fol, 146.

crowns,

I'll tune my reed unto a higher key,
(And have already cond fome of the lay).
Wherein (as Mantua's by her Virgil's birth,
And Thames by him that fung her § nuptial
mirth)

You may be known (though not in equal pride)
As far as Tiber throws his fwelling tide.
And by a fhepherd (feeding on your plains)
In humble, lowly, plain, and ruder strains,

+ Ordulphus. He founded, at Tavyflock in Devon, St. Mary and St. Burion, A. D. 961. + Spenfer.

§ Faery Queene, B, IF". ch. 13.

led o'er the plains and taught to get their food:
By feeing how their breeder takes his prey
Now from an orchard do they fear the jay,
Then o'er the corn fields as they fwiftly fly,
Where many thousand hurtful sparrows lie
Beating the ripe grain from the bearded ear,
At their approach, all (overgone with fear)
Seek for their fafety; fome into the dyke,
Some in the hedges drop, and others like
The thick grown corn; as for their hiding beft,
And under turfs or grafs most of the reft;
That of a flight which cover'd all the grain,
Not one appears, but all or hid or flain:
So by Heroes were we led of gore,
And by our drums that thunder'd'on each fhore,
Struck with amazement, countries far and near ;
Whilft their inhabitants like herds of deer,
By kingly lions chas'd, fled from our arms.
If any did oppose, inftructed (warms

Of men inimayl'd; fate drew them on to be
A greater fame to our got victory.

But now our leaders want, those veffels lie
Rotting, like houfes through ill husbandry,
And on their mafts, where oft the ship boy ftood,
Or filver trumpets charm'd the brakish flood,
Some wearied crow it fet; and daily feen
Their fides, inftead of pitch, calk'd ore with

green :

Ill hap (alas!) have you that once were known
By reaping what was by Iberia fown,

By bringing yellow fheaves from out their plain,
Making our barns the ftorehouse for their grain.:
When now as if we wanted land to till,
Wherewith we might our useless foldiers fill:
Upon the hatches where half-pikes were borne
In every chink rife stems of bearded corn:
Mocking our idle times that fo have wrought us,
Or putting us in mind what once they brought us.
Bear with me, fhepherds, if I do digreís,
And fpeak of what ourselves do not profess:
Can I behold a man that in the field,
Or at a breach hath taken on his fhield
More darts than ever † Roman; that hath spent
Many a cold December, in no tent

But fuch as earth and heaven make; that hath been,

Except in iron plates, not long time feen;
Upon whofe body may be plainly told
More wounds then his lank purfe doth alms-deeds
hold;

• Plymouth. ↑ M. Sceva.

O! can I fee this man (advent'ring all)
Be only grac'd with fome poor hospital,
Or may be worse, entreating at his door
For fome relief whom he fecur'd before,
And yet not fhew my grief? First may learn
To fee and yet forget how to discern;
My hands neglectful be at any need
Or to defend my body or to feed,.
Ere I refpect those times that rather give him
Hundreds to punish, then one to relieve him.'
As in an evening when the gentle air
Breathes to the fullen night a foft repair,

I oft have fat on Thames sweet bank to hear
My friend with his sweet touch to charm mine

ear,

When he hath play'd (as well he can) some strain
That likes me, ftraight I afk the fame again,
And he as gladly granting, ftrikes it o'er
With fome sweet relifh was forgot before,:
I would have been content if he would play,
In that one ftrain to pafs the night away;
But fearing much to do his patience wrong,
Unwillingly have afk'd fome other fong:
So in this diff'ring key though I could well
A many hours but as few minutes tell,
Yet leaft mine own delight might injure you
(Though loth fo foon) I take my fong anew.

Yet as when I with other fwains have been
Invited by the maidens of our green
To wend to yonder wood, in time of year
When cherry trees enticing burdens bear,
He that with wreathed legs doth upwards go,
Plucks not alone for those which ftand below;
But now and then is feen to pick a few
To please himself as well as all his crew:
Or if from where he is do efpy

Some apricote upon, a bough thereby,
Which overhangs the tree on which he ftands,
Climbs up and strives to take it with his hands:
So if to please myself I fomewhat sing,
Let it not be to you lefs pleasuring;
No thirst of glory tempts me: for my strains
Befit poor fhepherds on the lowly plains;
The hope of riches cannot draw from me
One line that tends to fervile flattery,
Nor fhall the most in titles on the earth
Blemish my mufe with an adulterate birth,
Nor make me lay pure colours on a ground
Where nought fubftantial can be ever found.
No; fuch as foothe a base and dunghill fpirit,
With attributes fit for the most of merit
Cloud their free mufe; as when the fun doth fhine
On ftraw and dirt mix'd by the fweating Hyne,
It nothing gets from heaps fo much impure,
But noisome streams that do his light obfcure.

My free born mufe will not, like Dane, be
Won with bafe drofs to clip with flavery;
Nor lend her choicer balm to worthlefs men,
Whofe names would die but for fome hired pen;
No if I praife, virtue fhall draw me to it,
And not a bafe procurement make me do it.
What now I fing is but to pass away
A tedious hour, as fome musicians play;
Or make another my own griefs bemoan;
Or to be leaft alone when moft alone.

In this can I, as oft as I will choose,
Hug fweet content by my retired muse,
And in a study find as much to please
As others in the greatest palaces.
Each man that lives (according to his pow'r)
On what he loves bestows an idle hour;
Inftead of hounds that make the wooded hills
Talk in a hundred voices to the rills,
I like the pleafing cadence of a line
Struck by the concert of the facred Nine.
In lieu of hawks, the raptures of my foul
Transcend their pitch and bafer earths controul.
For running horfes, contemplation flies
With quickeft fpeed to win the greatest prize.
For courtly dancing I can take more pleasure
To hear a verfe keep time and equal measure.
For winning riches, feek the best directions
How I may well fubdue mine own affections.
For railing flately piles for heirs to come,
Here in this poem I erect my tomb.
And time may be fo kind, in thefe weak lines
To keep my name enroll'd, paft his, that fhines
In gilded marble, or in brazen leaves :

Since verfe preferves when ftone and brafs deceives.
Or if (as worthlefs) time not lets it live
To thofe full days which others mufes give,
Yet I am fure I fhall be heard and fung
Of most feverest eld, and kinder young
Beyond my days, and maugre envy's strise
Add to my name fome hours beyond my life.

Such of the mufes are the able pow'rs,
And, fince with them I spent my vacant hours,
I find nor hawk, nor hound, nor other thing,
Touras nor revels, pleafures for a king.
Yield more delight; for I have oft poffeft
As much in this as all in all the reft,
And that without expence, when others oft
With their undoings have their pleasures bought.

On now my loved mufe, and let us bring Thetis to hear the Cornish Michael fing; And after him to fee a + fwain unfold The tragedy of Drake in leaves of gold. Then hear another Grenvile's name relate, Which times fucceeding fhall perpetuate. And make thofe two the pillars great of fame, Beyord whofe worths fhall never found a name. Nor honour in her everlafting flory More deeper grave for all enfuing glory.

Now Thetis ftais to hear the shepherds tel!
Where Arthur met his death, and Mordred fell.
Of holy Urfula (that fam'd her age)
With other virgins in her pilgrimage.
And as he forward fteers is fhewn the rock
Main Amber, to be hook with weakest fhock,
Se equal is it poiz'd; but to remove

All strength would fail, and but an infant's prove.
Thus while to pleafe her fome new fongs devife,
And others diamonds (fhaped angel-wife,
And fmooth'd by nature, as she did impart
Some willing time to trim herfelf by art)
Sought to present her and her happy crew:
She of the Gulf and Scillies took a view;

See Camden's Remains, p. 7, and 335. † Charles Eliz-Geoffrey,

Why should we envy them thofe wreaths of

fame?

Being as proper to the Trojan name
As are the dainty flow'rs which Flora spreads
Unto the fpring in the difcoloured meads.
Rather afford them all the worth me may,
For what to give them adds to our ray.
And Britons, think not that your glories fall,
Derived from a mean original;
Since lights that may have pow'r to check the dark
Can have their luftre from the smallest fpark.
Not from nobility doth virtue spring,
"But virtue makes fit nobles for a king.
"From higheft nefts are croaking ravens born,
"When sweetest nightingales fit in the thorn."
From what low foant foe'er your beings are
(In fofter peace and mighty brunts of war)
Your own worths challenge as triumphant bays
As ever Trojan hand had pow'r to raise.
And when I leave my mufic's plainer ground
The world fhall know it from Bellona's found.
Nor fhall I err from truth; for what I write
She doth perufe, and helps me to endite.
The fmall converfe which I have had with fome
Branches, which from thofe gallant trees have

come,

Doth, what I fing, in all their acts approve,
And with more days increase a further love.
As I have feen the Lady of the May
Set in an arbour (on a holyday)
Built by the May pole, where the jocund swains
Dance with the maidens to the bagpipes strains,
When envious night commands them to be gone,
Call for the merry youngsters one by one,
And for their well performance foon difpofes,
To this a garland interwove with roses;
To that a carved hook, or well wrought fcrip,
Gracing another with her cherry lip;
To one her garter, to another then
A handkerchief caft o'er and o'er again;
And none returneth empty that hath spent
His pains to fill their rural merriment:
So Nereus' daughter, when the fwains had done,
With an unfparing liberal hand begun
To give to every one that fung before,
Rich orient pearls brought from her hidden store,
Red branching coral, and as precious gems
As ever beautify'd the diadems:

That they might live, what chance their sheep

And poets freely spend a golden fhow'r,
As they expected her again each hour.

Then with her thanks and praises for their skill
In tuning numbers of the facred hill,
She them difmifs'd to their contented cotes:
And every swain a several passage floats
Upon his dolphin. Since whofe fafe repair,
Thofe fishes like a well compofed air.
And (as in love to men) are ever seen,
Before a tempeft's rough regardless teen,
To fwim high on the waves, as none should dare,
Excepting fishes, to adventure there.

When thefe had left her, the drave on, in pride, Her prouder courfes through the fwelling tide, To view the Cambrian cliffs, and had not gone An hour's full speed, but near a rock whereon (Congealed froft and fnow in fummer lay, Seldom diffolved by Hyperion's ray) She faw a troop of people take their feat,

beat

Their troubled breafts, in fign of meikle woe,
For those are actions grief enforceth to.
Willing to know the cause, fomewhat near hand
She fpies an aged man fit by the strand,
Upon a green hill fide (not meanly crown'd
With golden flow'rs, as chief of all the ground)
By him a little lad, his cunning heir,
Tracing green rushes for a winter chair.

The old man, while his fon full neatly knits them,

Unto his work begun, as trimly fits them.
Both fo intending what they firft propounded,
As all their thoughts by what they wrought were
bounded.

To them the came, and kindly thus bespake:
Ye happy creatures, that your pleasures take
In what your needs enforce, and never aim
A limitless defire to what may maim
The fettled quiet of a peaceful state,
Patience attend your labours. And when fate
Brings on the reftful night to your long days,
Wend to the fields of blifs! Thus Thetis prays.
Fair queen, to whom all duteous praise we owe,
Since from thy fpacious ciftern daily flow
(Reply'd the fwain refreshing streams that fill
Earth's dugs (the hillocks) fo preferving ftill
The infant grafs, when elfe our lambs might bleat
In vain for fuck, whofe dams have nought to eat.
For these thy pray'rs we are doubly bound,
And that thefe cleves fhould know; but (O) to
found

My often mended pipe prefumption were,
Since Pan would play if thou would pleafe to hear.
The louder blafts which I was wont to blow
Are now but faint, nor do my fingers know
To touch half part thofe merry tunes I had.
Yet if thou please to grace my little lad
With thy attention, he may fomewhat strike
Which thou from one fo young may'st chance to
like.

With that the little fhepherd left his task,
And with a blufh (the roses only mafk)
Deny'd to fing. Ah! father (quoth the boy)
How can I tune a feeming note of joy?

A cloud doth keep the golden fun from it,
And for his feat (as teaching us) hath made
A mourning covering with a fcowling fhade.
The dew on every flow'r, this morn, hath lain
Longer than it was wont, this fide the plain,
Belike they mean, fince my best friend muft die,
To fhed their filver drops as he goes by.
Not all this day here, nor in coming hither,
Heard I the fweet birds tune their fongs together
Except one nightingale in yonder dale,
Sigh'd a fad elegy for Philocel.

Near whom a wood-dove kept no small ado,
To bid me in her language," Do fo too;"
The weather's bell, that leads our flock around,
Yields, as me thinks, this day a deader found.
The little fparrows, which in hedges creep,
E'er I was up, did feem to bid me weep.
If thefe do fo, can I have feeling lefs,
That am more apt to take and to exprefs?
No let my own tunes be the mandrake's groan,
If now they tend to mirth when all have none.

My pretty lad (quoth Thetis) thou dost well
To fear the lofs of thy dear Philocel.
But tell me, fire, what may that shepherd be,
Or if it lie in us to fet him free,
Or if with you yon people touch'd with woe,
Under the felf fame load of forrow go.

Fair queen (reply'd the swain) one is the caufe That moves our grief, and thofe kind fhepherds draws

To yonder rock. Thy more than mortal spirit
May give a good beyond our pow'r to merit.
And therefore please to hear, while I fhall tell,
The hapless rate of hopeless Philocel.

Whilom, great Pan, the father of our flocks,
Lov'd a fair lafs fo famous for her locks,
That in her time all women first begun
To lay their loofer trefles to the fun.
And theirs whofe hue to hers was not agreeing,
Were ftill roll'd up as hardly worth the feeing.
Fondly have fome been led to think, that man
Mufic's invention first of all began

From the dull hammer's ftroke; fince well we

know,

From fure tradition that hath taught us fo.