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"So oft as I record those piercing words,
Which yet are deepe engraven in my brest,
And those last deadly accents, which like swords
Did wound my heart, and rend my bleeding chest,
With those sweet sugred speeches doe compare,
The which my soul first conquerd and possest,
The first beginners of my endlesse care:

"And when those pallid cheekes and ashe hew,
In which sad Death his portraiture had writ,
And when those hollow eyes and deadly view,
On which the cloud of ghastly Night did sit,

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1 match with that sweete smile and chearful brow, Which all the world subdued unto it, How happie was I then, and wretched now!

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"How happie was I when I saw her leade
The shepheards daughters dauncing in a rownd!
How trimly would she trace and softly tread
The tender grasse, with rosye garland crownd!
And, when she list, advaunce her heavenly voyce,
Both Nymphes and Muses nigh she made astownd,
And flocks and shepheards caused to reioyce.

"But now, ye shepheard Lasses! who shall lead
Your wandring troupes, or sing your virelayes?
Or who shall dight your bowres, sith she is dead
That was the lady of your holy-dayes?
Let now your blisse be turned into bale,
And into plaints convert your ioyous playes,
And with the same fill every hill and dale.

"Let bagpipe never more be heard to shrill,
That may allure the senses to delight,
Ne ever shepheard sound his oaten quill
Unto the many that provoke them might
To idle pleasance; but let ghastlinesse
And drearie horror dim the chearfull light,
To make the image of true heavinesse:

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"Let birds be silent on the naked spray, And shady woods resound with dreadfull yells; Let streaming floods their hastie courses stay, And parching drouth drie up the cristall wells; Let th' earth be barren, and bring foorth no flowres,

And th' ayre be fild with noyse of dolefull knells, And wandring spirits walke untimely howres.

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"And Nature, nurse of every living thing, Let rest her selfe from her long wearinesse, And cease henceforth things kindly forth to bring,

Ver. 318. Or who shall dighit your bowres.] Who shall deck or prepare your bowers, Todd.

"My litle Flock, whom earst I lov'd so well,
And wont to feed with finest grasse that
Feede ye hencefoorth on bitter astrofell,
And stinking smallage, and unsaverie rew;
And, when your mawes are with those weeds cor-
Be ye the pray of wolves; ne will I rew [rupted,
That with your carkasses wild beasts be glutted. 30

"Ne worse to you, my sillie Sheepe! I pray,
Ne sorer vengeance wish on you to fall
Than to my selfe, for whose confusde decay
To carelesse Heavens I doo daylie call;
But Heavens refuse to heare a wretches cry;
And cruell Death doth scorn to come at call,
Or graunt his boone that most desires to dye.

"The good and righteous he away doth take,
To plague th' unrighteous which alive remaine;
But the ungodly ones he doth forsake,
By living long to multiplie their paine;
Else surely death should be no punishment,
As the Great Iudge at first did it ordaine,
But rather riddance from long languishment.

"Therefore, my Daphne they have tane away;
For worthie of a better place was she:
But me unworthie willed here to stay,
That with her lacke I might tormented be.
Sith then they so have ordred, I will pay
Penance to her, according their decree,
And to her ghost doe service day by day.

"For I will walke this wandring pilgrimage, Throughout the world from one to other end, And in affliction waste my better age:

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My bread shall be the anguish of my mynd,
My drink the teares which fro mine eyes do
raine,

My bed the ground that hardest I may fynd;
So will I wilfully increase my paine.

VI.

"Why doo I longer live in lifes despight,
And doo not dye then in despight of death;
Why doo I longer see this loathsome light
And doo in darknesse not abridge my breath,
Sith all my sorrow should have end thereby,
And cares finde quiet! Is it so uneath
To leave this life, or dolorous to dye ?

"To live I finde it deadly dolorous,
For life drawes care, and care, continuall woe;
Therefore to dye must needes be ioyeous,
And wishfull thing this sad life to forgoe:
But I must stay; I may it not amend,

My Daphne hence departing bad me so;
She bad me stay, till she for me did send.

"Yet, whilest I in this wretched vale doo stay, My wearie feete shall ever wandring be,

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Ne will I lodge, ne will I ever lin,

Ne, when as drouping Titan draweth nere
To loose his teeme, will I take up my inne.

"Ne sleepe (the harbenger of wearie wights)
Shall ever lodge upon mine eye-lids more;
Ne shall with rest refresh my fainting sprights,
Nor failing force to former strength restore:
But I will wake and sorrow all the night
With Philumene, my fortune to deplore;
With Philumene, the partner of my plight.

"And ever as I see the starre to fall,
And under ground to goe to give them light
Which dwell in darknesse, I to mind will call
How my fair starre (that shind on me so bright)
Fell sodainly and faded under ground;
Since whose departure, day is turnd to night,
And night without a Venus starre is found.

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"And ye, fond Men! on Fortunes wheele that ride,
Or in ought under heaven repose assurance,
Be it riches, beautie, or honours pride,
Be sure that they shall have no long endurance,
But ere ye be aware will flit away;

For nought of them is yours, but th' only usance Of a small time, which none ascertaine may.

Had all the shepheards nation by thy lacke!
And I, poore swaine, of many, greatest crosse !
That, sith thy Muse first since thy turning backe
Was heard to sound as she was wont on hye,
Hast made us all so blessed and so blythe.
Whilest thou wast hence, all dead in dole did lie:
The woods were heard to waile full many a sythe,
And all their birds with silence to complaine:
The fields with faded flowers did seem to mourne,
And all their flocks from feeding to refraine:
The running waters wept for thy returne,
And all their fish with languour did lament.
But now both woods and fields and floods revive,
Sith thou art come, their cause of meriment,
That us, late dead, hast made againe alive:
But were it not too painefull to repeat
The passed fortunes, which to thee befell
In thy late voyage, we thee would entreat,
Now at thy leisure them to us to tell."

འ

To whom the shepheard gently answered thus ; Hobbin, thou temptest me to that I covet:

For of good passed newly to discus,

By dubble usurie doth twise renew it.
And since I saw that Angels blessed eie,

Her worlds bright sun, her heavens fairest light,
My mind, full of my thoughts satietie,

Doth feed on sweet contentment of that sight:
Since that same day in nought I take delight,
Ne feeling have in any earthly pleasure,
But in remembrance of that glorious bright,
My lifes sole blisse, my hearts eternall threasure
Wake then, my pipe; my sleepie Muse, awake;
Till I have told her praises lasting long :
Hobbin desires, thou maist it not forsake ;-
Harke then, ye iolly shepheards, to my song."
With that they all gan throng about him neare,
With hungrie eares to heare his harmonie:
The whiles their flocks, devoyd of dangers feare,
Did round about them feed at libertie.

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"One day (quoth he) I sat, (as was my trade)
Under the foote of Mole, that mountaine hore,
Keeping my sheepe amongst the cooly shade
Of the greene alders by the Mullaes shore:
There a straunge shepheard chaunst to find me out,
Whether allured with my pipes delight,
Whose pleasing sound yshrilled far about,
Or thither led by chaunce, I know not right:
Whom when I asked from what place he came,
And how he hight, himselfe he did ycleepe
The Shepheard of the Ocean by name,
And said he came far from the main-sea deepe.
He, sitting me beside in that same shade,
Provoked me to plaie some pleasant fit;
And, when he heard the musicke which I made, 70
He found himselfe full greatly pleasd at it:
Yet, æmuling my pipe, he tooke in hond
My pipe, before that emuled of many,
And plaid theron; (for well that skill he cond;)
Himselfe as skilfull in that art as any.

He pip'd, I sung; and, when he sung, I piped;
By chaunge of turnes, each making other mery;
Neither envying other, nor envied,
So piped we, untill we both were weary."
There interrupting him, a bonie swaine,
That Cuddy hight, him thus atweene bespake:
And, should it not thy readie course restraine,

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@muling] See also amuled in the next line. This verb is probably of Spenser's coinage. Toro.

I would request thee, Colin, for my sake,
To tell what thou didst sing, when he did plaie;
For well I weene it worth recounting was,
Whether it were some hymne, or morall laie,
Or carol made to praise thy loved lasse."

"Nor of my love, nor of my lasse, (quoth he)
I then did sing, as then occasion fell:
For love had me forlorne, forlorne of me,
That made me in that desart choose to dwell.
But of my river Bregogs love I song,
Which to the shiny Mulla he did beare,
And yet doth beare, and ever will, so long
As water doth within his baneks appeare."
"Of fellowship (said then that bony Boy)
Record to us that lovely lay againe:

The staie whereof shall nought these cares annoy, Who all that Colin makes do covet faine."

"Heare then (quoth he) the tenor of my tale, In sort as I it to that shepheard told:

No leasing new, nor grandams fable stale,

10.

The Nimph, which of that water course has charge,
That, springing out of Mole, doth run downe right
To Buttevant, where, spreading forth at large,
It giveth name unto that auncient Cittie,
Which Kilnemullah cleped is of old;

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| Whose ragged ruines breed great ruth and pittie
To travailers, which it from far behold.
Full faine she lov'd, and was belov'd full faine
Of her owne brother river, Bregog hight,
So hight because of this deceitfull traine,
Which he with Mulla wrought to win delight.
But her old sire more carefull of her good,
And meaning her much better to preferre,
Did thinke to match her with the neighbour flood,
Which Allo hight, Broad-water called farre :
And wrought so well with his continuall paine,
That he that river for his daughter wonne :
The dowre agreed, the day assigned plaine,
The place appointed where it should be donne.
Nath lesse the Nymph her former liking held;
For love will not be drawne, but must be ledde;
And Bregog did so well her fancie weld,
That her good will he got her first to wedde.
But for her father, sitting still on hie,
Did warily still watch which way she went,
And eke from far observ'd, with iealous eie,
Which way his course the wanton Bregog bent;
Him to deceive, for all his watchfull ward,
The wily lover did devise this slight:
First into many parts his streame he shar'd,
That, whilest the one was watcht, the other might
Passe unespide to meete her by the way;
And then, besides, those little streames so broken
He under ground so closely did convay,
That of their passage doth appeare no token,
Till they into the Mullaes water slide.
So secretly did he his love enioy:

Yet not so secret, but it was descride,
And told her father by a shepheards boy.
Who, wondrous wroth for that so foule despight,
in great avenge did roll downe from his hill
Huge mightie stones, the which encomber might 150
His passage, and his water-courses spill.
So of a River, which he was of old,

He none was made, but scattred all to nought;
And, lost emong those rocks into him rold,
Did lose his name: so deare his love he bought."
Which having said, him Thestylis bespake; 156
"Now by my life this was a mery lay,
Worthie of Colin selfe, that did it make.
But read now eke, of friendship I thee pray,
What dittie did that other shepheard sing:
For I do covet most the same to heare,
As men use most to covet forreine thing."
"That shall I eke (quoth he) to you declare:

His song was all a lamentable lay

Of great unkindnesse, and of usage hard,
Of Cynthia the Ladie of the Sea,

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Which from her presence faultlesse him debard.
And ever and anon, with singulfs rife,
He cryed out, to make his undersong:
Ah! my loves queene, and goddesse of my life, 170
Who shall me pittie, when thou doest me wrong?"
Then gan a gentle bonylasse to speake,
That Marin hight; " Right well he sure did plaine,
That could great Cynthiaes sore displeasure breake,
And move to take him to her grace againe.
But tell on further, Colin, as befell
Twixt him and thee, that thee did hence dissuade."
"When thus our pipes we both had wearied well,
(Quoth he) and each an end of singing made,
He gan to cast great lyking to my lore,
And great dislyking to my lucklesse lot,
That banisht had my selfe, like wight forlore,
Into that waste, where I was quite forgot.
The which to leave, thenceforth he counseld mee,
Unmeet for man, in whom was ought regardfull,
And wend with him, his Cynthia to see;
Whose grace was great, and bounty most rewardfull.
Besides her peerlesse skill in making well,
And all the ornaments of wondrous wit,
Such as all womankynd did far excell;
Such as the world admyr'd, and praised it:
So what with hope of good, and hate of ill,
He me perswaded forth with him to fare.
Nought tooke I with me, but mine oaten quill:
Small needments else need shepheard to prepare.
So to the sea we came; the sea, that is
A world of waters heaped up on hie,
Rolling like mountaines in wide wildernesse,
Horrible, hideous, roaring with hoarse crie."
"And is the sea (quoth Coridon) so fearfull?” 200
"Fearful much more (quoth he) then hart can
fear:

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Seek waies unknowne, waies leading down to hell.
For, as we stood there waiting on the strond,
Behold, an huge great vessell to us came,
Dauncing upon the waters back to lond,
As if it scornd the daunger of the same;
Yet was it but a wooden frame and fraile,
Glewed togither with some subtile matter.
Yet had it armes and wings, and head and taile,
And life to move it selfe upon the water.
Strange thing how bold and swift the monster was,
That neither car'd for wynd, nor haile, nor raine,
Nor swelling waves, but thorough them did passe
So proudly, that she made them roare againe.
The same aboord us gently did receave,
And without harme us farre away did beare,
So farre that land, our mother, us did leave,
And nought but sea and heaven to us appeare.
Then hartelesse quite, and full of inward feare,
That shepheard I besought to me to tell,
Under what skie, or in what world we were,
In which I saw no living people dwell.
Who, me recomforting all that he might,
Told me that that same was the Regiment
Of a great shepheardesse, that Cynthia hight,
His liege, his Ladie, and his lifes Regent.-

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And serve and honour her with faithfull mind. 255
Besides an hundred Nymphs all heavenly borne,
And of immortal race, doo still attend

To wash faire Cynthiaes sheep, when they be shorne,
And fold them up, when they have made an end.
Those be the shepheards which my Cynthia serve
At sea, beside a thousand moe at land:
For land and sea my Cynthia doth deserve
To have in her commandement at hand."

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Thereat I wondred much, till, wondring more And more, at length we land far off descryde: 263 Which sight much gladed me; for much afore I feard, least land we never should have eyde: Thereto our ship her course directly bent, As if the way she perfectly had knowne. We Lunday passe; by that same name is ment 20 An island, which the first to west was showne. From thence another world of land we kend, Floting amid the sea in ieopardie, And round about with mightie white rocks hemd, Against the seas encroching crueltie.

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