Shepheardes Calender Conteyning tvvelue Eglogues proportionable Entitled TO THE NOBLE AND VERTV- AT LONDON. Printed by Hugh Singleton, dwelling in Creede Lane neere vnto Ludgate at the are there to be foldc. 3579. This Eglogue is purposely intended to the honor and prayse of our most gracious sovereigne, Queene Elizabeth. The speakers herein be Hobbinoll and Thenott, two shepheardes: the which Hobbinoll being before mentioned, greatly to have loved Colin, is here set forth more largely, complayning him of that boyes great misadventure in Love, whereby his mynd was alienate and with drawen not onely from him, who moste loved him, but also from all former delightes and studies, as well in pleasaunt pyping, as conning ryming and singing, and other his laudable exercises. Whereby he taketh occasion, for proofe of his more excellencie and skill in poetrie, to recorde a songe, which the sayd Colin sometime made in honor of her Majestie, whom abruptely he termeth Elysa. TELL me good Hobbinoll, what garres thee greete? Or bene thine eyes attempred to the yeare, HOBBINOLL. Nor thys, nor that, so muche doeth make me mourne, Shepheards delights he dooth them all forsweare, THENOT. What is he for a Ladde, you so lament? Ys love such pinching payne to them, that prove? Yet hath so little skill to brydle love? HOBBINOLL. Colin thou kenst, the Southerne shepheardes boye : But now from me hys madding mynd is starte, THENOT. But if hys ditties bene so trimly dight, I pray thee Hobbinoll, recorde some one: 10 20 30 HOBBINOLL. Contented I then will I singe his laye Of fayre Eliza, Queene of shepheardes all: YE dayntye Nymphs, that in this blessed Brooke doe bathe your brest, Forsake your watry bowres, and hether looke, at my request : And eke you Virgins, that on Parnasse dwell, Helpe me to blaze Her worthy praise, Which in her sexe doth all excell. Of fayre Elisa be your silver song, The flowre of Virgins, may shee florish long, For shee is Syrinx daughter without spotte, Which Pan the shepheards God of her begot : So sprong her grace Of heavenly race, No mortall blemishe may her blotte. See, where she sits upon the grassie greene, (O seemely sight) Yclad in Scarlot like a mayden Queene, And Ermines white. 40 50 Upon her head a Cremosin coronet, With Damaske roses and Daffadillies set 60 Bayleaves betweene, And Primroses greene Embellish the sweete Violet. Tell me, have ye seene her angelick face, Like Phoebe fayre? Her heavenly haveour, her princely grace can you well compare ? The Redde rose medled with the White yfere, Her modest eye, Her Majestie, Where have you seene the like, but there? I sawe Phœbus thrust out his golden hedde, upon her to gaze : 70 But when he sawe, how broade her beames did spredde, it did him amaze. He blusht to see another Sunne belowe, Ne durst againe his fyrye face out showe: His brightnesse compare With hers, to have the overthrowe. Shewe thy selfe Cynthia with thy silver rayes, When shee the beames of her beauty displayes, But I will not match her with Latonaes seede, And makes dayly mone, Warning all other to take heede. Pan may be proud, that ever he begot such a Bellibone, And Syrinx rejoyse, that ever was her lot to beare such an one. Soone as my younglings cryen for the dam, 80 |