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But man, that had the spark of reason's might But who can tell what cause had that fair maid More than the rest, to rule his passion,

To use hin so that loved her so well? Chose for his love the faireft in his fight,

Or who with blame can justly her upbraid like as himself was fairekt by creation :

For loving not? for wlio can love compel; For beauty is the bait which with delight

And footh to say, it is full hardy thing
Doth man allure, for to enlarge his kind;

Rafhly to witen creatures so divine ;
Beauty, the burning lamp of heaven's light, For demi-gods they be, and firit did spring
Darting her beams into each feeble mind,

From heaven, though graft in frailneis feminine.
Against whose power nor God nor man can find And well I wote that oft I heard it fy oken,
Defence, ne ward the daunger of the wound; How one that faireft Helene did revile,
But being hurt, stek to be medicin'd

Through iudgment of the gods, to been ywroke, Of her that first did stir that mortal stowud. Loft both his eyes, and so remain'd long while, Then do they cry and call to Love apace,

Till he recanted had his wicked rimes, With p.ayers loud iniportuning the fky,

And made amends to her with treble praise : Whence he them bears, and when he lift shew Beware, therefore, ye Grooms, I read betines, grace,

How rafhly blame of Rotalinde ye raise." Does grant them grace, that otherwise would die. “ Ah! Shepherds," then said Colin, " ye is So love is lord of all the world by right,

weet And rules the creatures by his powerful saw, How great a guilt upon your heads ye

draw, All being made the vassals of his night

To make so bold a doom with words un mect, Through secret sense, which thereto doth them Of things celestial, which ye never saw; draw.

For she is not like as the other crew Thus ought all lovers of their lord to deem, Of shepherds' daughters which amongst you bez And with chalte heart to honour him alway: But of divine regard and heavenly hue, But whoso else doch otherwise cíteem

Excelling all that ever ye did see. Are out-laws, and his lore do disobey;

Not then to her that scoined thing so base, For their desire is base, and doch not merit But to my self the blame, that lookt fo hie; 'The name of love, but of dil yal lust;

So high her thoughts as the her self have place, Ne 'mongst true lovers they fall place inherit, And loath each lowly thing with lofty eye: But as exuls out of his court be thrust."

Yit so much grace lee her vouchsafe to grant So having said, Melilla spake at will,

To simple swain, fith her I may not love, 66 Colin, thou now full deeply haft divin'd Yet that I may her honour peravaunt, Of love and beauty, and with wondrous skill And praise her worth, though far my wit abore; Haft Cupid's self de painted in his kind :


grace shall be some guerdon for the grief To thee are all true lovers greatly bound, And long affliction which I have endured; That dooft their cause so mightily defend; Such grace fometimes shall give me fome relief But most all women are thy debtors tound, And case of pain, which cannot be recured. That docft their bounty ftill fo much commend.” And ye, my fellow-Shepherds, which do sce

“ That ill,” said Hobbinol, “ they him requite; And hear the languors of my too long dying, For having loved ever one most dear,

Unto the world for cver witness be He is repaid with scorn and foul despite,

That her’s I die, nought to the world denying That yrks each gentle heart which it doth hear." This simple trophy of her great conqueft."

“ Indeed,” said Lucid, “ I have often heard So having ended, he from ground did rise, Fair Rofalinde of divers fouly blamed

And after him uprofe eke all the reft; For being to that Swain too cruell hard,

All loth co part, but that the gloomirg skies That her bright glory else hath much defamed : Warn'd them to draw their bleating doks to re.

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To the most noble and excellent Lord,


Wrong'd, yet not daring to express my pain,
To you (great Lord) the causer of my care,
In cloudy tears my case I thus complain
Unto your self, that only privy are;
But if that any Oedipus, unware,
Shall chance, through power of some divining spright;
To read the secret of this riddie rare,
And know the purport of my evil plight,
Let him be pleased with his own insight,
Ne further seek to glose upon the text;
For grief cnough it is to grieved wight
To feel this fault, and not be further vext :
But what so by my self may not be shown,
May by this Gnat's complaint be easily known :



We now have plaid (Augustus) wantonly, He shall inspire my verse with gentle mood Tuning our song unto a tender Mufe,

Of poet's prince, whether he woone beside And like a cobweb weaving flenderly,

Fair Xanthus sprinkled with Chimæras blood, Have only playd; let thus much then excuse Or in che woods of Aftery abide. This Gnat's small Poem, that the whole history Or whereas Mount Parnasse, the Muses' brood, Is but a jest, tho envy it abuse ;

Doth his broad forehead like iwo horos die But who such sports and sweet delights doth vide, blame,

And the sweet waves of sounding Castaly, Shall lighter feem than this Gnat's idle name. With liquid foot doth fide down casily. Hereafter, when as season more secure

Wherefore ye Sisters, which the glory be
Shall bring forth fruit, this Muse fhall speake to Of the Pierian freams, fair Naiades,

Go to, and dancing all in company,
In bigger notes, that may thy sense allure, Adorn that god. And thou, holy Pales!
And for thy worth frame some fit poesy;

To whom the honest care of husbandry
The golden offspring of Latona pure,

Returneth by continuall success, And ornament of great Jove's progeny,

Have care for to pursue his footing light, Phæbus fhall be the author of my song,

Through the wide woods and groves, with greeti Playing on ivory harp with silver strong.

Leaves dight.



E e jij








Professing thee I lifted am aloft

O the great happiness which shepherds have Betwixt the forest wide and starry sky;

Who-so loaths not too much the poor estate, And thou, most drad Octavius, which oft

With mind that ill use doth before deprave, To learned wits giv'st courage worthily,

Ne measures all things hy the costly rate O come, (thou sacred Child !) come fliding soft, Of riotise, and semblants outward brave ! And favour my beginnings graciously;

No such fad cares as wont to macerate for not these leaves do sing that dreadful sound, And rend the greedy minds of covetous mon, When giants' blood did stain Phlegræan ground. Do ever creep into the shepherd's den. Nor how th' half-horsie people, Centaures hight, Ne cares he if the fleece which him arrays Fought with the bloodie Lapithaes at bord; Be not twice steeped in Assyrian dye, Nor how the East, with tyrannous despight, Ne glistering of gold, which underlays Burnt th' Aurick towers, and people Icw with | The summer beanis, do blind his gazing eye ; sword;

Ne pictures beauty, nor the glancing rays Nor how Mount Athos, through exceeding mighr, of precious stones, whence no good cometh by i Was digged down, nor yron bands abord Ne yet his cup enibost with imagery 'The Pontick Sea by their hage navy cast, Of Betus, or of Alcon’s vanity. My volume shall renown, so long since past.

Ne ought the whelky pearls efteeneth he, Nor Hellespont, trampled with horses' feet, Which are from Indian feas brought far away, When flocking Persians did the Greeks affray ; But with pure breast, from careful forrow free, But my soft Muse, as for her power more meet, On the soft grass his limbs doth oft display Delights (with Phæbus' friendly leave) to play In sweet spring-time, when flowers' variety An casie running verse with tender feet.

With sundry colours paints the sprinkled lay : And thou, (drad sacred Child!) to thee alway There lying all at ease from guile or spright, Ict everlasting lightsom glory strive

With pipe of fenny reeds doth him delight. Through the world's endless ages to survive.

There he, lord of himself, with palm bedight, And let an happy room remain for thee

His looser locks doth wrap in wreath of vine; Mongit heavenly rarks, where blessed souls do rest; There his milk-dropping goats be his delight, And let long lasting life with joyous glee,

And fruitfull Pales, and the forest green, is thy due need that thou deservest best, And darkfom caves in pleasant vallies pight, Hereafter many years remembred be

Whereas continuall shade is to be seen, Amongst good men, of whom thou oft art bleit. And where freih springing wells, as crystal neat, Live thou for ever all happiness.

Doe always flow to quench his thirsty heat. But let us turn to our first business.

O! who can lead then a more happy life The fiery sun was mounted now on hight

Than he, that with clean mind, and heart fincere, Up to the heavenly towers, and shot each where No greedy riches knows, nor bloody strise, Out of his golden charet glittering light,

No deadly fight of warlike fleet doth fear, And fair Aurora with her rosie hair,

Ne runs in peril of foes cruell knife, 'l hat hatelul darkness now had put to flight,

That in the facred temples he may rear When as the thepherd secing day appear, A of his glittering spoils and treastre, His little goats 'gan drive out of their stalls, Or may abound with riches above micasure? To feed abroad where pasture beft befalls.

Of him his God is worshipt with his syth, To an high mountains top he with them went, And not with skill of craftman polished; Where thickelt grass did cloath the open hills; He joys in groves, and makes himfelf suli birth They now amongst the woods and thickets ment, with sundry flowers in wild fields gathered : Now in the valleys wandring at their wills, Ne frankincence he from Panchæa buyth; Spread themselves far abroad through each descent; Sweet Qniet harbours in his harmless head, Some on the soft green grass feeding their fills, And perfect Pleasure builds her jogous bowre, Some clambring through the hollow cliffs on hie, Free from fad cares, that rich men's hearts deNibble the busy shrubs which grow thereby. Others tlie utmost boughs of trees do crop. This all his care, this all his whole endeavour, And brouze the woodbine twigs that freshly bud; To this his mind and senses he doth bend, This with full bit doth catch the utmost top How he may flow in quiet's matchlefs treasuur, Oi fome fost willow or new growen stud; Content with any food that God doh send; 7 his with sharp teeth the bramble-leaves doth lor, And how his limbs, refolv'd through idle leilou, And chaw the tender prickles in her cud,

Unto sweet sleep he may fecurely lend The whiles another high doth over-look

In fune cool thadow fiom the scorching heat, Her own like image in a crystal brook.

The whiles his flock their chawed cuds do er,















O Flocks! O Fauns! and, Oye pleasure Springs And that same tree, in which Demophoon
Of Tempe! where the country nymphs are rife, By his disloyalty lamented fore,
Through whose not costly care each shepherd Eternal hurt left unto many one,

Whom als accompanied the oak of yore,
As merry notes upon his rustick fife

Through fatal charms transform'd to such an one ; As that Astrzan bard, whofe fime now rings The oak, whose acorns were our food before Through the wide world, and leads as joyful life, That Ceres' feed of mortal men was known, Free from all troubles, and from worldly coyl, Which firit Triptoleme taught how to be lown. In which fond men do all their days turmoyl.

Here also grew the rougher rinded pine, In sich delights, whilst thus his careless time The great Argoan Mhips brave ornament, This shepherd drives, upleaning on his batt, Whom Golden Fleece did make an heavenly figh, And on thrill reeds chaunting his rustick rinte, Which covering, with his high top's extent Hyperion throwing forth his beams full hott, To make the mountains touch the stars divine, Into the highest top of heaven 'gan clime, Decks all the forest with embellishment, And the world parting by an equal lott,

And the black holm, that loves the watıy vale, Did shade his whirling flames in either side, vind the sweet cypress, sign of deadly bale. As the great Ocean do:h himself divide.

Emongst the rest the clambring yvie grew, Then gan the shepherd ga:her into one

Knitting his wanton arms with grasping hold, His (tragling gears, and drave them to a foord, Lett chat the poplır happily thould rew T'hose cærule strcan, rombling in pibble-stone, Her brother's strokes, whose boughs he doth ene Crept under moss as green as any goord.

foid Now had the sun half heaven overgone,

With her lythe twigs, till they the top furvew, When he his herd back from that water foord And point with pallid greene her buds of gold; Drave from the force of Phæbus' boyling ray Next did the myrtle tree to her approach, Into thick shadows, there themselves to lay. Nor yet unmindfull of her old reproach. Soon as he them plac'ı in thy sacred wood, But the small birds, in their wide boughs em(0 Delian Goddess !) law, to which of yore

bowring Came the bad daughter of old Cadmus' brood, Chaunted their fundry tunes with sweet consent, Crueil Agave, flying vengeance fore

And under them a silver fpring forth pouring Of King Nidtileus, for the guilty blood

His trickling Itreams, a gentle murmure lent; Which the with cursed hands had shed before; Thereto the frogs, bred in the flinie scowring There she half frantick, having flain her son, Of the moist moorcs, their jarring voyces bent, Did Inroud herself, like punishment to ihun. And ihrill grashoppers chirped them around,

All which the airy eccho did resound, Here also playing on the grassie green, W'cod-zods, and Satires, and swift Dryades, In this fo pleasant place this shepherd's flock Wich many Fairies, oft were dancing seen, Lay every where, their weary limbs to rest Votli nuch did Dan Orpheus repress

On every buth and every holow rock, The dreams of Hebrus with his fongs, I ween, Where breathe on them the whistling wind mote As that fair troop of woody godderies

heit, Stay'd thee (O Peneus!) pruring forth to thee, The whiles the shepherd self tending his flock, From chearfull louks, great mirth and gladsome gice. Sate by the fountain fide, in Made to rest,

W ure gentle flumbring licep oppressed him, The very nature of the place refounding : Display'd on ground, and seized every lim. With gentle murmur of the breathing air, A pleasing bowre, with all delight abounding, of treachery or trains nought took he keep, In this fresh fhadow did for them prepare,

But, loosiy on the grassy green dispred, To reft their limbs with wearincis redounding : His dearest life did trust to careless sleep, For first the high palm-trees, with branches fair, Which weighing down his drouping drowsic hed, Out of the lowly vallies did arise,

In quiet relt his molten heart did fleep, And high foot up their heads into the skyes. Devoid of care, and fear of all falled,

Had noi inconftant Fortune, bent to ill, And chem amongst the wicked lotns grew, Bid ftrange milchance his quictness to spill. Wicked for holding guilefully away Ulysses' men, whom rape with sweetness new For at his wonted time in that same place, Taking to host it quite from him did ftay; An huge great ferpent, all with speckles pide, And eke those trees, in whose transformed hue To drench himself in morish linie did irace, The sun's sad daughters wail'd the rash decay There from the boyling heat himself to lide; of Phæton, whose limbs, with lightning rent, He pafling by with rolling wreathed yace, They gathering up with sweet tears did lament. With brandinh tongue the empty air did gride,







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And wrapt his fialy boughts with fell despight, Had blent so much his fense chat less he fear'd) That all things seem'd appalled at his fight.

Yet when he saw him lain himself he chcard.

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Thus wise long time he did himself dispace
There round about, when as at last he fpide,
Lying along before him in that place,
That flock's grand captain and inost trusty

Eftfoones more fierce in visage and in pace,
Throwing his fiery eyes on every fide,
He cometh on, and all things in his way
Full fternly rends, that might his passage stay.



Much he disdains that any one should dare
To conie unto his haunt, for which intent
He inly burns, and gins fraight to prepare
The weapons which to him nature had lent;
Felly he hisseth, and doth fiercely ítare,
And hath his jaws with angry fpirits rent,
That all his track with bloodie drops is stain'd
And all his folds are now in length out-strain'd.

In“o whose sense so soon as lighter fileep
was entred, and now loosing every lim,
Sweet slumbring dew in carelessncís did ftecp,
The image of that Gnat appear'd to him,
And in sad terms 'gan forrowfully weep,
With grilly countenance and visage grim,
Wailing the wrong which he had done of late,
In steed of good, haftning his cruel fate.
Said he, “ What have I, Wretch ! deserv'd that

Into this bitter bale I am out-cast,
Whilst that thy life more dear and precious
Was then mine own, so long as it did last?
I now, in licu of pains fo gracious,
Am fost in th' air with every windy blast;
Thou, safe delivered from sad decay,
Thy careless limbs in loose sleep doof display.
So liveít thou; but my poor wretched ghost
Is forc'd to ferry over Lethe's river,
And, spoil'd of Charon, to and fro am tost.
Seeft thou not how all places quake and quiver,
Lightned with deadly lamps on every putt?
Titiphone each where doth. shake and thiver
Her fiaming fire-brond encountering me,
Whofe locks uncombed cruel adders be.


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Whom thus at point prepared to prevent,
A little noursling of ihe hummid air,
A Gnat unto the sleepy shepherd went,
And marking where his eye-lids, twinkling rare,
Show'd the two pearls which fight unto him lent,
Through their thin coverings appearing fair,
His licele needle there infixing deep,
Wan'd him awakc, from death himself to keep.

Wherewith enrag'd, he fiercely gan upstart,
And with his hand him rashiy bruising llew,
As in avengement of his heedless fmart,
That straight the spirit out of his fenses dew,
And life out of his memhers did depart;
When suddenly calling aside his view,
He spide his foe with fclonous intent
And fervent eyes to his deflruction vent.

All suddenly dismay'd, and heartless quight,
He fled aback, and catching hatiy hold
Ol' a young alder, hard beside him pight,
It rent; and streicht abou: him 'gan behold,
What God or Fortune would aililt his might;
But whether God or i ortuue made hin, bold
It's hard to reall; yet hardly will be had
To overcome, that made him less adrad.


And Cerberus, whose mais mouths do bay
And bark out flames, as if on fire he fed,
Adown whose neck, in terrible array,
Ten thousand fiakes cralling about his hed
Do hang in heaps, that horribly affray,
And bloody eyes do giiiter fiery red,
He oftentimes me dreadfully doth threaten
With painful torments to be forely beaten.
Ay me; that thanks so much should fail of meed,
For that I thee restor'd to life again,
Even fr m the door of death and deadly dreed.
Where then is now the guerdon of my pain?
Where the reward of my so piteous deed?
The praise of pity vanih'd is in vain,
And th' antique faith of justice long agone
Out of the land is iled away and gune.
I saw another's fate approaching fast,
And icft mine own his safety to cerder;
Irxo the fame miihan I now am cast,
And thun’d destruction doch destruction render;
Not unto hini that never hath trespalt,
But punishment is due to the offender:



The scalie back of that most hideous (rake,
Enwrapped round, oft fairing to retire,
And oft him to aftail, bu fiercely strake,
Whereas his tout plus sid his creati-frent tyte;
Aid for he was but slow, did iloth oji fhake,
And gazing ghaitly op (for fcar and ire

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