There is good Harpalus,1 now woxen agèd
In faithful service of fair Cynthia ;
And there is Corydon, though meanly wagèd,
Yet hablest wit of most I know this day.
And there is sad Alcyon,3 bent to mourn,
Though fit to frame an everlasting ditty;
Whose gentle spright for Daphne's death doth tourn1
Sweet lays of love to endless plaints of pity.
Ah, pensive boy! pursue that brave conceit
In thy sweet Eglantine of Mereflure;
Lift up thy notes unto their wonted height,
That may thy Muse and mates to mirth allure.
There eke is Palin, worthy of great praise,
All-be he envy at my rustic quill:6
And there is pleasing Alcon, could he raise
His tunes from lays to matter of more skill.
And there is old Palemon,7 free from spite,
Whose careful pipe may make the hearer rue;
Yet he himself may ruèd be more right,
That sung so long until quite hoarse he grew.
And there is Alabaster, throughly taught
In all this skill, though knowen yet to few;
Yet, were he known to Cynthia 10 as he ought,
His Eliseis would be read anew.
Who lives that can match that heroic song
Which he hath of that mighty Princess made?
O dreaded Dread! do not thyself that wrong,
To let thy fame lie so in hidden shade:
But call it forth, O call him forth to thee,
To end thy glory which he hath begun!
That, when he finished hath as it should be,
No braver Poem can be under sun;
Nor Po nor Tiber's swans so much renowned,
Nor all the brood of Greece so highly praised,
Can match that Muse when it with bays is crowned,
And to the pitch of her perfection raised.
1 Possibly Barnaby Googe, who was about fifty-six years old in 1591, when this was written, and some seventeen years Spenser's senior. (See p. 201.) 2 Abraham Fraunce. (See p. 304.)
3 A Sir Arthur Gorges, author of an unpublished poem called Eglantine of Meriflure. Spenser wrote an Elegy upon the death of his wife. 4 Turn.
5 Supposed by Malone to mean Peele (see p. 213), in reference to Peele's Arraignment of Paris, 1584, and to the character of Colin Clout in that pastoral play; but Todd is of opinion that Spenser refers in this couplet to Thomas Chaloner. 6 Thomas Watson. (See p. 289.)
7 Thomas Churchyard. (See p. 195.)
6 William Alabaster, a poet and scholar, whose Eliseis, a poem in Elizabeth's praise, Spenser is anxious to bring to the Queen's notice.
And there is a new shepherd, late up-sprong,
The which doth all afore him far surpass;
Appearing well in that well-tuned song,
Which late he sung unto a scornful lass.
Yet doth his trembling Muse but lowly fly,
As daring not too rashly mount on hight,
And doth her tender plumes as yet but try
In love's soft lays and looser thought's delight;
Then rouse thy feathers quickly, Daniel,1
And to what course thou please thyself advance;
But most, me seems, thy accent will excel
In tragic plaints and passionate mischance.
And there that Shepherd of the Ocean is,2
That spends his wit in love's consuming smart :
Full sweetly tempered is that Muse of his,
That can empierce a Prince's mighty heart.
There also is-ah, no, he is not now!
But since I said "he is" he quite is gone;
Amyntas quite is gone, and lies full low,
Having his Amaryllis left to moan.
Help, O ye shepherds! help ye all in this,
Help Amaryllis this her loss to mourn;
Her loss is yours, your loss Amyntas is,
Amyntas, flower of shepherds' pride, forlorn :5
He, whilst he lived, was the noblest swain
That ever pipèd in an oaten quill:
Both did he other which could pipe maintain,
And eke could pipe himself with passing skill.
And there, though last not least, is Aetion;7
A gentler shepherd may nowhere be found:
Whose Muse, full of high thoughts' invention,
Doth, like himself, heroically sound.
1 Samuel Daniel. (See p. 307.)
2 Sir Walter Raleigh. (See p. 269.)
3 Ferdinando Stanley, Lord Strange, fifth Earl of Derby, who died in 1594. He succeeded to the earldom only the year before his death, but, as Lord Strange, had been known as a poet of note, and a munificent patron of literature and the stage.
4 The wife of Lord Strange was Alice, youngest of the three daughters of Sir John Spencer of Althorpe, Northamptonshire, kinswomen of the poet. lady, Lady Strange till 1593, then Countess of Derby for a few months, and known for the rest of her life as the Dowager Countess of Derby, is renowned in our literary history. Spenser was proud of the "bands of affinity" which connected him with the Spencers of Althorpe, dedicated poems to each of the three sisters, and sang their praise in his Colin Clout's Come Home Again. widowed "Amaryllis" married again, in 1600, Lord Keeper Egerton, afterwards Lord Chancellor to King James. She lived to be the heroine of Milton's Arcades, written about 1631. 5 Lost for ever.
6 He was a patron of poets as well as himself a poet.
7 Critics differ in deciphering this passage, and it is uncertain whether it
All these, and many others mo,1 remain
Now, after Astrophel2 is dead and gone :
But, while-as Astrophel did live and reign,
Amongst all these was none his paragon!
All these do flourish in their sundry kind,
And do their Cynthia immortal make;
Yet found I liking in her royal mind,
Not for my skill, but for that shepherd's sake.
THE TRIUMPH OF VICTORY.
Wake now, my Love, awake! For it is time;
The rosy Morn long since left Tithon's bed,
All ready to her silver coach to climb;
And Phoebus gins to show his glorious head.
Hark, how the cheerful birds do chant their lays,
And carol of Love's praise !
The merry lark her matins sings aloft ;
The thrush replies; the mavis3 descant plays;
The ouzel shrills; the ruddock warbles soft;
So goodly all agree with sweet consent
To this day's merriment.
Ah, my dear Love, why do ye sleep thus long?
When meeter were that ye should now awake,
To await the coming of your joyous make,
And hearken to the birds' love-learnèd song
The dewy leaves among ;
For they of joy and pleasance to you sing,
That all the woods them answer, and their echo ring.
My Love is now awake out of her dreams;
And her fair eyes, like stars that dimmèd were
With darksome cloud, now show their goodly beams
More bright than Hesperus his head doth rear.
Come now, ye damsels, daughters of delight!
Help quickly her to dight :7
But first come, ye fair Hours, which were begot,
In Jove's sweet paradise, of Day and Night;
Which do the seasons of the year allot;
And all that ever in this world is fair
Do make, and still repair;
And ye, three handmaids of the Cyprian Queen,
The which do still adorn her beauty's pride,
Help to adorn my beautifullest bride:
And, as ye her array, still throw between
Some graces to be seen;
And, as ye use to Venus, to her sing,
The whiles the woods shall answer, and your echo ring.
Now is my Love all ready forth to come:
Let all the virgins, therefore, well await;
And ye, fresh boys, that tend upon her groom,
Prepare yourselves; for he is coming straight;
Set all your things in seemly good array,
Fit for so joyful day;
The joyfullest day that ever sun did see!
Fair Sun! show forth thy favorable ray,
And let thy life-full heat not fervent be,
For fear of burning her sunshiny face,
Her beauty to disgrace.
O fairest Phœbus, father of the Muse!
If ever I did honour thee aright,
Or sing the thing that mote1 thy mind delight,
Do not thy servant's simple boon refuse;
But let this day, let this one day, be mine;
Let all the rest be thine.
Then I thy soverain praises loud will sing,
That all the woods shall answer, and their echo ring.
Hark! How the Minstrels gin to shrill aloud
Their merry music that resounds from far,
The pipe, the tabor, and the trembling crowd,2
That well agree withouten breach or jar:
But, most of all, the Damsels do delight,
When they their timbrels smite,
And thereunto do dance and carol sweet,
That all the senses they do ravish quite :
The whiles the boys run up and down the street,
Crying aloud with strong confusèd noise,
As if it were one voice ;
"Hymen, iö Hymen, Hymen!" do they shout,
That even to the heavens their shouting shrill
Doth reach, and all the firmament doth fill;
To which the people, standing all about,
As in appearance, do thereto applaud,
And loud advance her laud ;3
And evermore they "Hymen, Hymen !" sing,
That all the woods them answer, and their echo ring.
Lo! where she comes along with portly pace,
Like Phoebe from her chamber of the East
Arising forth to run her mighty race,
Clad all in white, that seems1 a virgin best.
So well it her beseems, that ye would ween2
Some angel she had been.
Her long loose yellow locks, like golden wire,
Sprinkled with pearl, and pearling flowers atween,
Do, like a golden mantle, her attire ;
And, being crownèd with a garland green,
Seem like some maiden queen.
Her modest eyes, abashèd to behold
So many gazers as on her do stare,
Upon the lowly ground affixèd are;
Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold,
But blush to hear her praises sung so loud,
So far from being proud.
Nathless do ye still loud her praises ring,
That all the woods may answer, and your echo ring....
Open the Temple gates unto my Love,
Open them wide that she may enter in ;
And all the posts adorn as doth behove,
And all the pillars deck with garland trim,
For to receive this Saint with honour due,
That cometh into you.
With trembling steps and humble reverence
She cometh in, before the Almighty's view.
Of her, ye virgins, learn obedience,
When so ye come into those holy places,
To humble your proud faces.
Bring her up to the High Altar, that she may
The sacred ceremonies there partake
The which do endless matrimony make;
And let the roaring organs loudly play
The praises of the Lord in lively notes;
The whiles, with hollow throats,
The Choristers the joyous anthems sing,
That all the woods may answer, and their echo ring.
Behold, whiles she before the altar stands, Hearing the holy priest that to her speaks,
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