The Shorter Poems

  For hauing loued euer one most deare:

  905

  He is repayd with scorne and foule despite,

  That yrkes each gentle heart which it doth heare.

  Indeed (said Lucid) I haue often heard

  Faire Rosalind of diuers fowly blamed:

  For being to that swaine too cruell hard,

  910

  That her bright glorie else hath much defamed.

  But who can tell what cause had that faire Mayd

  To vse him so that vsed her so well:

  Or who with blame can iustly her vpbrayd,

  For louing not? for who can loue compell?

  915

  And sooth to say, it is foolhardie thing,

  Rashly to wyten creatures so diuine,

  For demigods they be and first did spring

  From heauen, though graft in frailnesse feminine.

  And well I wote, that oft I heard it spoken,

  920

  How one that fairest Helene did reuile,

  Through iudgement of the Gods to been ywroken

  Lost both his eyes and so remaynd long while,

  Till he recanted had his wicked rimes,

  And made amends to her with treble praise:

  925

  Beware therefore, ye groomes, I read betimes,

  How rashly blame of Rosalind ye raise.

  Ah shepheards (then said Colin) ye ne weet

  How great a guilt vpon your heads ye draw:

  To make so bold a doome with words vnmeet,

  930

  Of thing celestiall which ye neuer saw.

  For she is not like as the other crew

  Of shepheards daughters which emongst you bee,

  But of diuine regard and heauenly hew,

  Excelling all that euer ye did see.

  935

  Not then to her that scorned thing so base,

  But to my selfe the blame that lookt so hie:

  So hie her thoughts as she her selfe haue place,

  And loath each lowly thing with loftie eie.

  Yet so much grace let her vouchsafe to grant

  940

  To simple swaine, sith her I may not loue:

  Yet that I may her honour paravant,

  And praise her worth, though far my wit aboue.

  Such grace shall be some guerdon for the griefe,

  And long affliction which I haue endured:

  945

  Such grace sometimes shall giue me some reliefe,

  And ease of paine which cannot be recured.

  And ye my fellow shepheards which do see

  And heare the languours of my too long dying,

  Vnto the world for euer witnesse bee,

  950

  That hers I die, nought to the world denying,

  This simple trophe of her great conquest.

  So hauing ended, he from ground did rise,

  And after him vprose eke all the rest:

  All loth to part, but that the glooming skies

  955

  Warnd them to draw their bleating flocks to rest.

  FINIS.

  Astrophel.

  Shepheards that wont on pipes of oaten reed,

  Oft times to plaine your loues concealed smart:

  And with your piteous layes haue learnd to breed

  Compassion in a countrey lasses hart.

  5

  Hearken ye gentle shepheards to my song,

  And place my dolefull plaint your plaints emong.

  To you alone I sing this mournfull verse,

  The mournfulst verse that euer man heard tell:

  To you whose softened hearts it may empierse,

  10

  With dolours dart for death of Astrophel.

  To you I sing and to none other wight,

  For well I wot my rymes bene rudely dight.

  Yet as they been, if any nycer wit

  Shall hap to heare, or couet them to read:

  15

  Thinke he, that such are for such ones most fit,

  Made not to please the liuing but the dead.

  And if in him found pity euer place,

  Let him be moov’d to pity such a case.

  A gentle Shepheard borne in Arcady,

  Of gentlest race that euer shepheard bore:

  About the grassie bancks of Hœmony,

  Did keepe his sheep, his litle stock and store.

  5

  Full carefully he kept them day and night,

  In fairest fields, and Astrophel he hight.

  Young Astrophel the pride of shepheards praise,

  Young Astrophel the rusticke lasses loue:

  Far passing all the pastors of his daies,

  10

  In all that seemly shepheard might behoue.

  In one thing onely fayling of the best,

  That he was not so happie as the rest.

  For from the time that first the Nymph his mother

  Him forth did bring, and taught her lambs to feed:

  15

  A sclender swaine excelling far each other,

  In comely shape, like her that did him breed,

  He grew vp fast in goodnesse and in grace,

  And doubly faire wox both in mynd and face.

  Which daily more and more he did augment,

  20

  With gentle vsage and demeanure myld:

  That all mens hearts with secret rauishment

  He stole away, and weetingly beguyld.

  Ne spight it selfe that all good things doth spill,

  Found ought in him, that she could say was ill.

  25

  His sports were faire, his ioyance innocent,

  Sweet without sowre, and honny without gall:

  And he himselfe seemd made for meriment,

  Merily masking both in bowre and hall.

  There was no pleasure nor delightfull play,

  30

  When Astrophel so euer was away.

  For he could pipe and daunce, and caroll sweet,

  Emongst the shepheards in their shearing feast:

  As Somers larke that with her song doth greet

  The dawning day forth comming from the East.

  35

  And layes of loue he also could compose,

  Thrise happie she, whom he to praise did chose.

  Full many Maydens often did him woo,

  Them to vouchsafe emongst his rimes to name,

  Or make for them as he was wont to doo,

  40

  For her that did his heart with loue inflame.

  For which they promised to dight for him,

  Gay chapelets of flowers and gyrlonds trim.

  And many a Nymph both of the wood and brooke,

  Soone as his oaten pipe began to shrill:

  45

  Both christall wells and shadie groues forsooke,

  To heare the charmes of his enchanting skill.

  And brought him presents, flowers if it were prime,

  Or mellow fruit if it were haruest time.

  But he for none of them did care a whit,

  50

  Yet wood Gods for them often sighed sore:

  Ne for their gifts vnworthie of his wit,

  Yet not vnworthie of the countries store.

  For one alone he cared, for one he sight,

  His lifes desire, and his deare loues delight.

  55

  Stella the faire, the fairest star in skie,

  As faire as Venus or the fairest faire:

  A fairer star saw neuer liuing eie,

  Shot her sharp pointed beames through purest aire.

  Her he did loue, her he alone did honor,

  60

  His thoughts, his rimes, his songs were all vpon her.

  To her he vowd the seruice of his daies,

  On her he spent the riches of his wit:

  For her he made hymnes of immortall praise,

  Of onely her he sung, he thought, he writ.

&nbs
p; 65

  Her, and but her of loue he worthie deemed,

  For all the rest but litle he esteemed.

  Ne her with ydle words alone he wowed,

  And verses vaine (yet verses are not vaine)

  But with braue deeds to her sole seruice vowed,

  70

  And bold atchieuements her did entertaine.

  For both in deeds and words he nourtred was,

  Both wise and hardie (too hardie alas).

  In wrestling nimble, and in renning swift,

  In shooting steddie, and in swimming strong:

  75

  Well made to strike, to throw, to leape, to lift,

  And all the sports that shepheards are emong.

  In euery one he vanquisht euery one,

  He vanquisht all, and vanquisht was of none.

  Besides, in hunting such felicitie,

  80

  Or rather infelicitie he found:

  That euery field and forest far away,

  He sought, where saluage beasts do most abound.

  No beast so saluage but he could it kill,

  No chace so hard, but he therein had skill.

  85

  Such skill matcht with such courage as he had,

  Did prick him foorth with proud desire of praise:

  To seek abroad, of daunger nought y’drad,

  His mistresse name, and his owne fame to raise.

  What needeth perill to be sought abroad,

  90

  Since round about vs, it doth make aboad?

  It fortuned, as he that perilous game

  In forreine soyle pursued far away:

  Into a forest wide, and waste he came

  Where store he heard to be of saluage pray.

  95

  So wide a forest and so waste as this,

  Nor famous Ardeyn, nor fowle Arlo is.

  There his welwouen toyles and subtil traines,

  He laid the brutish nation to enwrap:

  So well he wrought with practise and with paines,

  100

  That he of them great troups did soone entrap.

  Full happie man (misweening much) was hee,

  So rich a spoile within his power to see.

  Eftsoones all heedlesse of his dearest hale,

  Full greedily into the heard he thrust:

  To slaughter them, and worke their finall bale, 105

  Least that his toyle should of their troups be brust.

  Wide wounds emongst them many one he made,

  Now with his sharp borespear, now with his blade.

  His care was all how he them all might kill,

  110

  That none might scape (so partiall vnto none)

  Ill mynd so much to mynd anothers ill,

  As to become vnmyndfull of his owne.

  But pardon that vnto the cruell skies,

  That from himselfe to them withdrew his eies.

  115

  So as he rag’d emongst that beastly rout,

  A cruell beast of most accursed brood

  Vpon him turnd (despeyre makes cowards stout)

  And with fell tooth accustomed to blood,

  Launched his thigh with so mischieuous might,

  120

  That it both bone and muscles ryued quight.

  So deadly was the dint and deep the wound,

  And so huge streames of blood thereout did flow:

  That he endured not the direfull stound,

  But on the cold deare earth himselfe did throw.

  125

  The whiles the captiue heard his nets did rend,

  And hauing none to let, to wood did wend.

  Ah where were ye this while his shepheard peares,

  To whom aliue was nought so deare as hee:

  And ye faire Mayds the matches of his yeares,

  130

  Which in his grace did boast you most to bee?

  Ah where were ye, when he of you had need,

  To stop his wound that wondrously did bleed?

  Ah wretched boy the shape of dreryhead,

  And sad ensample of mans suddein end:

  135

  Full litle faileth but thou shalt be dead,

  Vnpitied, vnplaynd, of foe or frend.

  Whilest none is nigh, thine eylids vp to close,

  And kisse thy lips like faded leaues of rose.

  A sort of shepheards sewing of the chace,

  140

  As they the forest raunged on a day:

  By fate or fortune came vnto the place,

  Where as the lucklesse boy yet bleeding lay.

  Yet bleeding lay, and yet would still haue bled,

  Had not good hap those shepheards thether led.

  145

  They stopt his wound (too late to stop it was)

  And in their armes then softly did him reare:

  Tho (as he wild) vnto his loued lasse,

  His dearest loue him dolefully did beare.

  The dolefulst beare that euer man did see,

  150

  Was Astrophel, but dearest vnto mee.

  She when she saw her loue in such a plight,

  With crudled blood and filthie gore deformed:

  That wont to be with flowers and gyrlonds dight,

  And her deare fauours dearly well adorned,

  155

  Her face, the fairest face, that eye mote see,

  She likewise did deforme like him to bee.

  Her yellow locks that shone so bright and long,

  As Sunny beames in fairest somers day:

  She fiersly tore, and with outragious wrong

  160

  From her red cheeks the roses rent away.

  And her faire brest the threasury of ioy,

  She spoyld thereof, and filled with annoy.

  His palled face impictured with death,

  She bathed oft with teares and dried oft:

  165

  And with sweet kisses suckt the wasting breath,

  Out of his lips like lillies pale and soft.

  And oft she cald to him, who answerd nought,

  But onely by his lookes did tell his thought.

  The rest of her impatient regret,

  170

  And piteous mone the which she for him made:

  No toong can tell, nor any forth can set,

  But he whose heart like sorrow did inuade.

  At last when paine his vitall powres had spent,

  His wasted life her weary lodge forwent.

  175

  Which when she saw, she staied not a whit,

  But after him did make vntimely haste:

  Forth with her ghost out of her corps did flit,

  And followed her make like Turtle chaste.

  To proue that death their hearts cannot diuide,

  180

  Which liuing were in loue so firmly tide.

  The Gods which all things see, this same beheld,

  And pittying this paire of louers trew:

  Transformed them there lying on the field,

  Into one flowre that is both red and blew.

  185

  It first growes red, and then to blew doth fade,