Of such a shining light to leave us destitute? Thou hast estrang'd thy self, and deignest not our land: Farre off to others now thy favour honour breeds, And high disdaine doth cause thee shun our clime, (I feare ;) For hadst thou not bene wroth, or that time neare at hand, Thou wouldst have heard the cry that wofull England made; Eke Zelands piteous plaints, and Hollands toren heare, Would haply have appeas'd thy divine angry mynd: Thou shouldst have seen the trees refuse to yeeld their shade, And wailing to let fall the honor of their head; And birds in mournfull tunes lamenting in their kinde. Up from his tombe the mightie Corineus rose, Who cursing oft the fates that this mishap had bred, His hoary locks he tare, calling the heavens unkinde. The Thames was heard to roare, the Reyne and eke the Mose, The Schald, the Danow selfe, this great mischance did rue, With torment and with grief: their fountains pure and cleere Were troubled, and with swelling flouds declar'd their woes. The Muses comfortles, the Nymphs with paled hue, The Silvan gods likewise, came running farre and [hie; neere, And all with teares bedeawd, and eyes cast up on O help, O help, ye gods, they ghastly gan to crie. O chaunge the cruell fate of this so rare a wight, And graunt that natures course may measure out his age. [fully, The beasts their foode forsooke, and, trembling fearEach sought his cave or den, this cry did them so fright. Out from amid the waves, by storme then stirr❜d to rage, This crie did cause to rise th' old father Ocean hoare, Who grave with eld, and full of maiestie in sight, Spake in this wise. "Refrain (quoth he) your teares and plaints, Cease these your idle words, make vaine requests no more. No humble speech, nor mone, may move the fixed stint Of destinie or death: Such is his will that paints The earth with colours fresh; the darkest skies with store [flint Of starry lights: And though your teares a hart of Might tender make, yet nought herein they will prevaile." Whiles thus he said, the noble knight, who gan to feele His vitall force to faint, and death with cruell dint Of direfull dart his mortall bodie to assaile, [steele, With eyes lift up to heav'n, and courage franke as With cheerfull face, where valour lively was exprest, But humble mynd, he said. “O Lord, if ought this fraile And earthly carcasse have thy service sought t advaunce; If my desire have bene still to relieve th' opprest; If iustice to maintaine that valour I have spent Which thou me gav'st; or if henceforth I might advaunce Thy name, thy truth, then spare me (Lord) if thou think best; Forbeare these unripe yeares. But if thy will be bent, If that prefixed time be come which thou hast set; Through pure and fervent faith, I hope now to be plast In th' everlasting blis, which with thy precious blood Thou purchase didst for us." With that a sigh he set, And straight a cloudie mist his sences overcast; His lips waxt pale and wan, like damaske roses bud Cast from the stalke, or like in field to purple flowre, Which languisheth being shred by culter as it past. A trembling chilly cold ran throgh their veines, which were With eies brimfull of teares to see his fatall howre, Whose blustring sighes at first their sorrow did declare, Next, murmuring ensude; at last they not forbeare For griefe, whereby the earth feard night eternally: The mountaines eachwhere shooke, the rivers turn'd their streames, And th' aire gan winterlike to rage and fret apace: And grisly ghosts by night were seene, and fierie gleames, Amid the clouds with claps of thunder, that did [afeard: seeme To rent the skies, and made both man and beast The birds of ill presage this lucklesse chance foretold, By dernfull noise; and dogs with howling made man deeme Some mischief was at hand: for such they do esteeme twaine; And from those two bright starres, to him sometime so deere [downe Her heart sent drops of pearle, which fell in foyson Twixt lilly and the rose. She wroong her hands with paine, And piteously gan say: "My true and faithfull pheere, Alas, and woe is me, why should my fortune frowne What cruell envious hand hath taken thee away, Mine eies see ought that may content them, since thy grave, My onely treasure, hides the ioyes of my poore hart! As here with t hee on earth I liv'd, even so equall Me thinkes it were with thee in heav'n I did abide: And as our troubles all we here on earth did part, So reason would that there of thy most happie state I had my share. Alas, if thou my trustie guide Were wont to be, how canst thou leave me thus alone In darknesse and astray; weake, wearie, desolate, Plung'd in a world of woe, refusing for to take Me with thee to the place of rest where thou art gone!" [toong; This said, she held her peace, for sorrow tide her And insteed of more words, seemd that her eies a lake Of teares had bene, they flow'd so plenteously therefro: And, with her sobs and sighs, th' aire round about her roong. If Venus, when she wail'd her deare Adonis slaine, Ought moov'd in thy fiers hart compassion of her woe, His noble sisters plaints, her sighes and teares emong, Would sure have made thee milde, and inly rue her paine: Aurora halfe so faire her selfe did never show, When, from old Tithons bed, shee weeping did arise. The blinded archer-boy, like larke in showre of raine, Sat bathing of his wings, and glad the time did spend Under those cristall drops, which fell from her faire eies; [wise. And at their brightest beames him proynd in lovely Yet sorie for her grief, which he could not amend, The gentle boy gan wipe her eies, and clear those lights, Those lights through which his glory and his conquests shine. The Graces tuckt her hair, which hung like threds of gold, Along her yvorie brest, the treasure of delights. All things with her to weep, it seemed, did encline, The trees, the hills, the dales, the caves, the stones so cold. The aire did help them mourne, with dark clouds, raine, and mist, Forbearing many a day to cleare it selfe againe ; Which made them eftsoones feare the daies of Pirrha shold Of creatures spoile the earth, their fatall threds untwist. For Phoebus gladsome raies were wished for in vaine, And with her quivering light Latonas daughter faire, And Charles-waine eke refus'd to be the shipmans guide. [traine, On Neptune warre was made by Aeolus and his Who, letting loose the winds, tost and tormented th' aire, So that on ev'ry coast men shipwrack did abide, The Medwaies silver streames, that wont so still to eye, Ay Phillip did resownd, aie Phillip they did crie. His Nimphs were seen no more (thogh custom stil it craves) With haire spred to the wynd themselves to bath or sport, Or with the hooke or net, barefooted wantonly, Were quite forgot; and now their flocks men might perceive To wander and to straie, all carelesly neglect. And, in the stead of mirth and pleasure, nights and dayes Nought els was to be heard, but woes, complaints, and mone. But thou (O blessed soule !) doest haply not respect [affect, These teares we shead, though full of loving pure Having affixt thine eyes on that most glorious throne, Where full of maiestie the High Creator reignes; In whose bright shining face thy ioyes are all complete, Whose love kindles thy spright; where, happie alwaies one, Thou liv'st in blis that earthly passion never staines; Where from the purest spring the sacred Nectar [now sweete Is thy continuall drinke; where thou doest gather Thy noble acts arew, whereby even they that boast All haile, therefore, O worthie Phillip immortall, The flowre of Sydneyes race, the honour of thy A PASTORALL AEGLOGUE, UPON THE DEATH OF SIR PHILLIP SIDNEY, KNIGHT, &c.* LYCON. COLIN. COLIN, well fits thy sad cheare this sad stownd, Hoarse is my voice with crying, else a part Colin. Ah Lycon, Lycon, what need skill, to teach A grieved mynd powre forth his plaints! how long That others farre excell; yet will I force *The signature to this poem is L. B., that is, Lodowick Bryskett. TODD. Envie could touch for vertuous life and skill; Behold the sacred Pales, where with haire Sweet bowres of myrtel twigs and lawrel faire, time With wailfull tunes, whiles wolves do howle and barke, And seem to beare a bourdon to their plaint. Lycon. Phillisides is dead. O dolefull ryme! Why should my toong expresse thee? who is left Now to uphold thy hopes, when they do faint, Lycon unfortunate! What spitefull fate, What lucklesse destinie, hath thee bereft Of thy chief comfort; of thy onely stay! Where is become thy wonted happie state, (Alas!) wherein through many a hill and dale, Through pleasant woods, and many an unknowne Along the bankes of many silver streames, [way, Thou with him yodest; and with him didst scale The craggie rocks of th' Alpes and Appenine ! Still with the Muses sporting, while those beames Of vertue kindled in his noble brest, Which after did so gloriously forth shine! But (woe is me !) they now yquenched are All suddeinly, and death hath them opprest. Loe father Neptune, with sad countenance, How he sitts mourning on the strond now bare, Yonder, where th' Ocean with his rolling waves The white feete washeth (wailing this mischance) Of Dover cliffes. His sacred skirt about The sea-gods all are set; from their moist caves All for his comfort gathered there they be. The Thamis rich, the Humber rough and stout, The fruitfull Severne, with the rest are come To helpe their lord to mourne, and eke to see The dolefull sight, and sad pomp funerall, Of the dead corps passing through his kingdome. And all their heads, with cypres gyrlonds crown'd, With wofull shrikes salute him great and small. Eke wailfull Eccho, forgetting her deare Narcissus, their last accents doth resownd. Colin. Phillisides is dead. O lucklesse age; O widow world; O brookes and fountains cleere; O hills, O dales, O woods, that oft have rong With his sweet caroling, which could asswage The fiercest wrath of tygre or of beare: Ye Silvans, Fawnes, and Satyres, that emong These thickets oft have daunst after his pipe; Ye Nymphs and Nayades with golden heare, That oft have left your purest cristall springs To harken to his layes, that coulden wipe Away all griefe and sorrow from your harts: Alas! who now is left that like him sings? When shall you heare againe like harmonie? So sweet a sownd who to you now imparts? Loe where engraved by his hand yet lives The name of Stella in yonder bay tree. Happie name! happie tree! faire may you grow, And spred your sacred branch, which honor gives To famous Emperours, and Poets crowne. Unhappie flock that wander scattred now, What marvell if through grief ye woxen leane, Forsake your food, and hang your heads adowne! For such a shepheard never shall you guide, Whose parting hath of weale bereft you cleane. Lycon. Phillisides is dead. O happie sprite, That now in heav'n with blessed soules doest bide: Looke down a while from where thou sitst above, And withred grasse with cypres boughes be spred; Colin. The Sun (lo!) hastned hath his face to In western waves; and th' aire with stormy showres Warnes us to drive homewards our silly sheep: Lycon, lett's rise, and take of them good keep. AN ELEGIE, OR FRIENDS PASSION, FOR HIS ASTROPHILL. WRITTEN UPON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR PHILLIP SIDNEY KNIGHT, LORD GOVERNOUR OF FLUSHING*. |