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BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS.

SONG V.

The Argument,

Within this song my muse doth tell
The worthy fact of Philocel,

And how his love and he in thrall

To death depriv'd of funeral,

The queen of waves doth gladly fave ;
And frees Marina from the cave.

So foon as can a martin from our town
Fly to the river underneath the down,
And back return with mortar in her bill,
Some little cranny in her neft to fill,

The fhepherd came. And thus began anew :
Two hours, alas! only two hours are due
From time to him, 'tis fentenc'd fo of those
That here on earth as destinies difpofe
The lives and deaths of men; and that time past
He yields his judgment leave and breathes his last.
But to the caufe. Great goddess understand
In Mona ifle thrust from the British land,
As (fince it needed nought of others store)
It would entire be, and apart no more,
There liv'd a maid fo fair, that for her fake
Since the was born the isle had never snake,
Nor were it fit a deadly sting should be
To hazard fuch admired fymmetry,
So many beauties fo commixt in one,
That all delight were dead if the were gone,
Shepherds that in her clear eyes did delight,
Whilft they were open never held it night:
And were they fhut, although the morning gray
Call'd up the fun, they hardly thought it day.
Or if they call'd it fo, they did not pass
Withal to fay it eclipsed was.

The roles on her cheeks, fuch, as each turn
Phoebus might kifs, but had no power to burn.
From her fweet lips diftil fweets fweeter do,
Then from a cherry half way cut in two:

Whofe yielding touch would as Promethean fire
Lumps truly fenfeless with a mufe inspire,
Who praifing her would youth's defire so stir,
Each man in mind should be a ravisher.
Some fay the nimble witted Mercury
Went late difguis'd profeffing palmifiry,
And milkmaids fortunes told about the land,
Only to get a touch of her foft hand.
And that a fhepherd walking on the brim
Of a clear stream where she did ufe to fwim,
Saw her by chance, and thinking fhe had been
Of chastity the pure and faireft queen,

Stole thence difmayed, least he by her decree
Might undergo Acteon's destiny.

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Did youth's kind heat inflame me (but the fnow

Upon my head, fhews it cool'd long ago)
I then could give (fitting fo fair a feature)
Right to her fame, and fame to fuch a creature.
When now much like a man the palfy shakes,
And spectacles befriend, yet undertakes
To limb a lady, to whofe red and white
Apelles curious hand would owe fome right;
His too unsteady pencil, fhadows here
Somewhat too much, and gives not over clear;
His eye deceiv'd mingles his colours wrong,
There ftrikes too little, and here ftays too long,

See Ovid's Metam. b. III. Palaphatus de in credibilibus biftoriis, p. 9. Edit. Du Gard,

Does and undoes, takes off, puts on (in vain)
Now too much white, then too much red again,
And thinking then to give some special grace,
He works it ill, or fo miftakes the place,
That the which fits were better pay for nought,
Then have it ended, and fo lamely wrought;
So do I in this weak description err;
And ftriving more to grace more injure her.
For ever where true worth for praise doth call,
He rightly nothing gives that gives not all.
But as a lad who learning to divide,
By one fmall mifs the whole hath falfify'd,
Calia men call'd, and rightly call'd her fo :
Whom Philocel (of all the fwains I know
Moft worthy) lov'd; alas! that love should be
Subject to fortune's mutability!

Whatever learned bards tofore have fung,
Or to the plains fhepherds and maidens young,
Of fad mishaps in love are fet to tell,
Comes fhort to match the fate of Philocel.

For as a labourer toiling at a bay

To force fome clear stream from his wonted way,
Working on this fide fees the water run
Where he wrought laft, and thought it firmly

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rain

Might bring a flood and throw all down again :
So, in our shepherd's love, one hazard gone
Another still as bad was coming on.
This danger past, another doth begin,
And one mishap thruft out lets twenty in.
For he that loves, and in it hath no stay
Limits his blifs feld' paft the marriage day.

But Philocel's, alas! and Cœlia's too
Muft ne'er attain fo far as others do.

Elfe fortune in them from her courfe fhould fwerve,

Who most afflicts those that most goods deferve. Twice had the glorious fun run through the

figns,

And with his kindly heat improv'd the mines. (As fuch affirm with certain hopes that try

The vain and fruitlefs art of alchymy)

Since our fwain lov'd: and twice had Phobus

been

In horned Aries taking up his inn,

Ere he of Cœlia's heart poffeffion won,

And fince that time all his intentions done

t

That fort, that force, that watch, that spy would be

A lasting stop to a fifth empery.

But we as well may keep the heat from fire
As fever hearts whom love hath made entire.
In lovely May, when Titan's golden rays
Make odds in hours between the nights and days;
And weigheth almost down th' once even scale
Where night and day, by th' equinoctial
Were laid in balance, as his power he bent
To banish Cynthia from her regiment,
To Latmus lately hill; and with his light
To rule the upper world both day and night,
Making the poor Antipodes to fear
A like conjunction 'twixt great Jupiter
And fome Alcmena new, or that the fun
From their horizon did obliquely run:
This time the swains and maidens of the ifle
The day with sportive dances do beguile,
And every valley rings with fhepherds fongs,
And every echo each sweet note prolongs,
And every river, with unusual pride,
And dimpled check, rolls fleeping to the tide,
And leffer fprings, which airy breeding woods,
Prefer as handmaids to the mighty floods,
Scarce fill up half their channels, making hafte
(In fear, as boy-) leaft all the fport be paft,

Now was the lord and lady of the May
Meeting the May-pole at the break of day,
And Calia as the faireft on the green,

Not without fome maids envy, chofen queen.
Now was the time comen when our gentle (wain
Muft inn his harveft or lofe all again;
Now muft he pluck the rofe, least other hands,
Or tempefts, blemish what fo fairly stands:
And therefore, as they had before decreed,
Our shepherd gets a boat, and with all speed
In night (that doth on lovers actions (mile)
Arrived safe on Mona's fruitful ifle.

Between two rocks (immortal, without mother)
That ftand as if out-facing one another,
There ran a creek up, intricate and blind,
As if the waters hid them from the wind,
Which never wafh'd but at a higher tide
The frizled cotes which do the mountains hide,
Where never gale was longer known to stay
Then from the smooth wave it had swept away
The new divorced leaves, that from each fide
Left the thick boughs to dance out with the tide.
At further end the creek, a ftately wood
Gave a kind fhadow (to the brackish flood)
Made up of trees, not lefs kend by each skiff
Then that sky fcaling pike of Teneriffe,
Upon whofe tops the hernefhew bred her young,
And hoary mofs upon their branches hung;

Nothing, to bring her thence. All yes upon her, Whofe rugged rinds fufficient were to show,
Watchful, as virtues are on trueft honour.
Kept on the ifle as carefully of fome,

As by the Trojans their † Palladium.

But where's the fortrefs that can love debar? The forces to oppose when he makes war? 'The watch which he fhall never find afleep? The fpy that fhall difclofe his counfels deep?

Virgil's Eneis, b. 11.

Without their height, what time they 'gan togrow.
And if dry eld by wrinkled fkin appears
None could allot them lefs then Neitor's years.
As under their command the thronged creek
Ran leffened up. Here did the fhepherd feek
Where he his little boat might fafely hide,
Till it was fraught with what the world befide
Could not outvalue; nor give equal weight
Though in the time when Greece was at her height,

The ruddy horfes of the rofie morne
Out of the eastern gates had newly borne
Their blufhing mistress in her golden chair,
Spreading new light throughout our hemifphere.
When faireft Cœlia with a lovelier crew'
Of damfels than brave Latmus ever knew,
Came forth to meet the youngsters; who had here
Cut down an oak that long withouten peer
Bore his round head imperiously above
His other mates there, confecrate to Jove.
The wished time drew on: and Cœlia now
(That had the fame for her white arched brow)
While all her lovely fellows bufied were
In picking off the gems from Tellus hair,
Made tow'rds the creek, where Philocel unfpy'd
(Of maid or fhepherd that their May games
ply'd)

Receiv'd his wifh'd-for Cœlia; and begun
To fteer his boat contrary to the fun,
Who could have wifh'd another in his place
To guide the car of light, or that his race
Were to have end (fo he might bless his hap)
In Cœlia's bosom, not in Thetis lap.

The boat oft danc'd for joy of what it held,
The hoift-up fail, not quick but gently fwell'd,
And often shook, as fearing what might fall,
Ere the deliver'd what she went withall.
Winged Argeftes, fair Aurora's fon,
Licenc'd that day to leave his dungeon,
Meekly attended; and did never err
Till Cœlia grac'd our land, and our land her.

As through the waves their love-fraught wherry

ran.

A many Cupids, each set on his swan,
Guided with reins of gold and filver twist
The fpotless birds, about them, as they lift,
Which would have fung a fong (ere they were
gone)

Had unkind nature given them more than one;
Or in bestowing that, had not ne wrong,
And made their fweet lives f it, one fad fong.
Yet that their happy vov
ight not be
Without time's fhort'ner, neav'n-taught melody
(Mufic that lent feet to the ftable woods,
And in their currents turn'd the mighty floods,
Sorrow's fweet nurfe, yet keeping joy alive,
Sad difcontent's most welcome corrofive,
The foul of art, best lov'd when love is by,
The kind infpirer of sweet poefy,

Least thou shouldst wanting be, when fwans would fain

Have fung one fong, and never fung again)
The gentle fhepherd, hafting to the fhore,
Eegan this lay, and tim'd it with his oar.

NEVERMORE let holy Dee

O'er other rivers brave,
Or boast how (in his jollity)
Kings row'd upon his wave.

But filent be, and ever know
That Neptune for my fare would row.

The Western Wind. And supposed (with the ars) the birth of Aurora by Afræus, as Apollodorus: Τους δὲ καὶ ̓Ακραίον ανεμοι καὶ ἀέρα.

VOL. IV.

Those were captives. If he fay

That now I am no other,
Yet fhe that bears my prifon's key
Is fairer than love's mother;
A God took me, thofe one lefs high,
They wore their bonds, fo do not Ï.

Swell then, gently fwell, ye floods,
As proud of what ye bear,
And nymphs that in low coral woods
String pearls upon your hair,
Afcend; and tell if ere this day
A fairer prize was seen at sea.

See the falmons leap and bound
To please us as we pass,
Each mermaid on the rocks around,

Lets fall her brittle glass.

As they their beauties did defpife,
And lov'd no mirror but your eyes.

Blow, but gently blow, fair wind,
From the forfaken fhore,
And be as to the Halcyon kind,

Till we have ferry'd o'er :

So may'ft thou ftill have leave to blow,
And fan the way where the fhall go.

Floods, and nymphs, and winds, and all
That fee us both together,

Into a difputation fall:

And then refolve me, whether
The greatest kindness each can fhew,
Will quit our trust of you or no?

Thus as a merry milk-maid, neat and fine, Returning late from milking of her kine, Shortens the dew'd way which she treads along With fome felf-pleafing fince new-gotten fong, The shepherd did their paffage well beguile.

And now the horned flood bore to our ille His head more high than he had us'd to do, Except by Cynthia's newnefs forced to. Not January's fnow, diffolv'd in floods, Makes Thamar more intrude on Blanchden woods, Nor the concourse of waters when they fleet After a long rain, and in Severn meet, Rais'th her enraged head to root fair plants, Or more affright her nigh inhabitants (When they behold the waters ruefully And fave the waters nothing else can see) Then Neptune's fubject now, more than of yore: As loth to fet his burden foon on fhore.

O Neptune! hadft thou kept them still with

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One drop of moisture; to these present times
We will relate, and fome fad fhepherd's rhymes
To after ages may their fates make known.
And in their depth of forrow drown his own.
So our relation, and his mournful verfe,
Of tears fhall force fuch tribute to their hearse,
That not a private grief fhall ever thrive
But in that deluge fall, yet this furvive.

Two furlongs from the fhore they had not gone,
When from a low caft valley (having on
Each hand a woody hill, whofe boughs unlopt
Have not alone at all times fadly dropt,
And turn'd their ftorms on her dejected breft,
But when the fire of heaven is ready preft
To warm and further what it should bring forth,
For lowly dales mate mountains in their worth)
The trees (as fcreenlike greatness) shade his ray,
(As it fhould fhine on none but fuch as they)
Came (and full fadly came) a hapless wretch,
Whose walks and paftures once were known to
ftretch

From caft to weft, fo far that no dyke ran.
For noted bounds, but where the ocean
His wrathful billows thruft, and grew as great
In hoals of fish as were the others neat.
Who now, dejected and depriv'd of all,
Longs (and hath done fo long) for funeral.
For as with hanging head I have beheld
A widow vine, ftand, in a naked field,
Unhusbanded, neglected, all forlorn,
Brous'd on by deer, by cattle cropt and torn,
Unpropt, unfuccoured by stake or tree,
From wreakful forms impetuous tyranny,
When had a willing hand lent kind redress,
Her pregnant bunches might from out the prefs
Have fent a liquor, both for tafte and shew,
No lefs divine than thofe of Malligo:

Such was this wight, and fuch the might have been.

She both th' extremes hath felt of fortune's teen,
For never have we heard, from times of yore,
One fometime envy'd and now pity'd more.
Her object, as her flate, is low as earth;
Privation her companion; thoughts of mirth
Irkfome; and in one felf-fame circle turning,
With fudden sports brought to a house of mourn-
ing.

Of others good her best belief is fill
And conftant to her own in nought but ill.
'The only enemy and friend fhe knows

Is death, who though defers must end her woes.
Her contemplation frightful as the night:
She never looks on any living wight
Without comparison; and as the day
Give us, but takes the glow worm's light away,
So the leaft ray of blifs on others thrown
Deprives and blinds all knowledge of her own.
Her comfort is (if for her any be)

That none can fhew more caufe of grief than the.
Yet fomewhat fhe of adverfe fate hath won,
Who had undone her were the not undone.
For thofe that on the fea of greatnefs ride
Far from the quiet fhore, and where the tide
In elbs and floods is guefs'd, not truly known,
Expert of all eftates except their own,

Keeping their ftation at the helm of ftate,
Not by their virtues but aufpicious fate,
Subject to calms of favour, ftorms of rage,
Their actions noted as the common ftage,
Who, like a man born blind that cannot be
By demonftration fhewn what 'tis to fee,
Live till in ignorance of what they want,
Till mifery become the adamant,

And touch them for that point, to which, wit fpeed,

None comes fo fure as by the hand of need.
A mirror ftrange the in her right hand bore,
By which her friends from flatterers heretofore
She could diftinguith well; and by her fide,
(As in her full of happiness) unty'd,
Unforc'd, and uncompell'd, did fadly go.
(As if partaker of his mistress' wo)

A loving fpaniel, from whofe rugged back
(The only thing (but death) fhe moans to lack)
She plucks the hair, and working them in plate
Furthers the fuit which modefty entreats.
Men call her Athliot: who cannot be
More wretched made by infelicity,
Unless the here had an immortal breath,
Or living thus, liv'd timerous of death.

Out of her lowly and forfaken dell
She running came, and cry'd to Philocel,
Help! help! kind fhepherd, help! ice yond
where

A lovely lady hung up by the hair,

Struggles, but mildly ftruggles with the fates,
Whole thread of life fpun to a thread that mates
Dame nature's in her hair, ftays them to wonder
While too fine twifling makes it break in fundo
So fhrinks the rofe that with the flames doth me
So gently bows the virgin parchment (heet,
So rowl the waves up and fall out again,
As all her beauteous parts, and all in vain.
Far, far above my help or hope in trying,
Unknown, and fo more miferably dying,
Smoth'ring her torments, in her panting breaft
She meekly waits the time of her long reft.
Haften! O haften then! kind fhepherd hate.

He went with her: and Coelia (that had grac
Him paft the world befides) feeing the way
He had to go not far, refts on the lay.

'Twas near the place where Pan's transforme love

Her gilded leaves difplay'd, and bodly ftrove
For luftre with the fun: a facred tree
Pall'd round and kept from violation free :
Whofe fmalleft fpray rent off, we never prize
At less than life. Here, though her heavenly ey
From him the lov'd could fcarce afford a fight
(As if for him they only had their light)
Thofe kind and brighter ftars were known to ex
And to all mifery betray'd her.

For turning them afide, the (haplefs) fpies
The holy tree, and (as all novelties
In tempting women have small labour loft
Whether for value nought, or of more coût)
Led by the hand of uncontroull'd defire
She rofe, and thither went. A wreed brier
Only kept close the gate which led into it
(Eafy for any all times to undo it,

That with a pious hand hung on the tree
Garlands or raptures of fweet pocfy)
Which by her opened, with unweeting hand,
A little fpray fhe pluck'd, whofe rich leaves fann'd
And chatter'd with the air, as who fhould fay
Do not for once, O do not this bewray!
Nor give found to a tongue for that intent!
"Who ignorantly fins dies innocent."

By this was Philocel returning back,
And in his hand the lady, for whofe wrack
Nature had clean forfworn to frame a wight
So wholly pure, fo truly exquifite:

But more deform'd, and from a rough-hewn
mold,

Since what is beft lives feldom to be old. Within their fight was fairest Celia now; Who drawing near, the life-priz'd golden bough Her love beheld. And as a mother kind What time the new-cloth'd trees by gufts of wind Uamov'd, ftand wiftly lift'ning to thofe lays The feather'd chorifters upon their sprays Chaunt to the merry fpring, and in the even She with her little fon for pleafure given, To tread the fring'd banks of an amorous flood, That with her mufic courts a fullen wood, Where ever talking with her only blifs That now before and then behind her is, She floops for flow'rs the choiceft may be had, And, bringing them to please her pretty lad, Spies in his hand fome baneful flow'r or weed, Whereon he 'gins to fmell, perhaps to feed, With a more earnest hafte fhe runs unto him, And pulls that from him which might elfe undo him:

So to his Cœlia hafted Philocel,

And raught the bough away. Hid it and fell
To queftion if the broke it, or if then
An eye beheld her? Of the race of men
(Replied fhe) when I took it from the tree
Affure yourself was none to testify,

But what hath paft fince in your hand, behold
A fellow running yonder over the wold
Is well inform'd of. Can there (love) infue
Tell me oh tell me! any wrong to you
By what my hand hath ignorantly done?
(Quoth fearful Colia) Philocel! be won
By thefe unfeigned tears, as I by thine,
To make thy greatest forrows partly mine!
Clear up thefe fhowers (my fun) quoth Philocel,
The ground it needs not. Nought is fo from
well

But that reward and kind entreaties may
Make smooth the front of wrath, and this allay.
Thus wifely he fuppreft his height of woe,
And did refolve fince none but they did know
Truly who rent it: and the hateful fwain
That lately paft by them upon the plain
(Whom well he knew did bear to him a hate,
Though undeferved) fo inveterate
That to his utmoft power he would affay
To make his life have ended with that day.
Except in his, had feen it in no hand,
That he again ft all throes of fate would fland,
Acknowledge it his deed, and fo afford
A paffage to his heart for juftice fword,

Rather than by her lofs the world fhould be Defpis'd and fcorn'd for lofing fuch as the.

Now (with a vow of secrecy from both) Enforcing mirth, he with them homewards go'th; And by the time the fhades of mighty woods Began to turn them to the eastern floods, They thither got: where with undaunted heart He welcomes both; and freely doth impart Such dainties as a fhepherd's cottage yields, Ta'en from the fruitful woods and fertile fields; No way distracted nor disturb'd at all. And to prevent what likely might befal His trueft Cœlia, in his apprehending Thus to all future care gave final ending: Into their cup (wherein for fach fweet girls Nature would myriads of richest pearls Diffolve, and by her powerful fimples strive To keep them ftill on earth, and still alive) Our swain infus'd a powder which they drank: And to a pleasant room (fet on a bank Near to his cote, where he did often ufe At vacant hours to entertain his mufe) Brought them, and feated on a curious bed Till what he gave in operation fped, And robb'd them of his fight, and him of theirs, Whofe new enlightning will be quench'd with

tears.

The glafs of time had well nigh spent the fand
It had to run, ere with impartial hand
Juftice muft to her upright balance take him.
Which he (afraid it might too foon forfake him)
Began to use as quickly as perceive,
And of his love thus took his lateft leave.

Calia! thou faireft creature ever eye
Beheld, or yet put on mortality!
Coelia that haft but just so much of earth,
As makes thee capable of death! Thou birth
Of every virtue, life of every good!
Whofe chafte fparts, and daily taking food
Is imitation of the highest pow'rs,
Who to the earth lend feasonable show'rs,
That it may bear, we to their altars bring
Things worthy their accept, our offering.
I the most wretched creature ever eye
Beheld, or yet put on mortality,
Unhappy Philocel, that have of earth
Too much to give my forrows endless birth,
The spring of fad misfortunes: in whom lies
No blifs that with thy worth can fympathife,
Clouded with wo that hence will never flit,
Till death's eternal night grow one with it,
I as a dying fwan that fadly fings

Her moaneful dirge unto the filver fprings,
Which, carelefs of her fong, glide fleeping by
Without one murmur of kind elegy,
Now ftand by thee; and as a turtle's mate
With lamentations inarticulate,

The near departure from her love bemoans,
Spend these my bootlefs fighs and killing groans.
Here as a man (by Juftice' doom) exil'd
To coafts unknown, to defarts rough and wild
Stand I to take my latest leave of thee:
Whofe happy and heaven-making company
Might I enjoy to Libia's continent,
Were bleft fruition and not banishment.

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