I, since the messenger is come for mee,
That fummons foules vnto the bridale feast
Of his great Lord, must needs depart from thee,
And straight obay his foueraine beheast:
Why fhould Alcyon then fo fore lament,
That I from miferie fhall be releast,
And freed from wretched long imprisonment?
Our/daies are full of dolour and disease,
Our life afflicted with inceffant paine,
That nought on earth may leffen or appease.
Why then should I defire here to remaine?
Or why should he that loues me, forrie bee
For my deliuerance, or at all complaine
My good to heare, and toward ioyes to fee?
I goe, and long defired haue to goe,
goe with gladnesse to my wished rest,
Whereas no worlds fad care, nor wafting woe
May come their happie quiet to moleft,
But Saints and Angels in celestiall thrones
Eternally him praise, that hath them blest;
There shall I be amongst those blessed ones.
Yet ere I goe, a pledge I leaue with thee
Of the late loue, the which betwixt vs past,
My young Ambrofia, in lieu of mee
Loue her fo fhall our loue for euer last.
Thus deare adieu, whom I expect ere long :
So hauing faid, away fhe foftly past :
Weepe Shepheard weepe, to make mine vnderfong.
3 So oft as I record those piercing words,
Which yet are deepe engrauen in my brest,
And those last deadly accents, which like fwords
Did wound my heart and rend my bleeding cheft,
With those sweet fugred fpeeches doe compare,
The which my foule first conquerd and possest,
The first beginners of my endleffe care; /
And when thofe pallid cheekes and afhie hew,
In which fad death his pourtraiture had writ,
And when thofe hollow eyes and deadly view,
On which the cloud of ghastly night did fit,
I match with that sweete smile and chearful brow,
Which all the world fubdued vnto it;
How happie was I then, and wretched now?
How happie was I, when I saw her leade
The Shepheards daughters dauncing in arownd?
How trimly would she trace and foftly tread
The tender grasse with rosye garland crownd?
And when she lift aduance her heauenly voyce,
Both Nymphes & Mufes nigh fhe made aftownd,
And flocks and fhepheards caufed to reioyce.
But now ye Shepheard laffes, who shall lead
Your wandring troupes, or fing your virelayes?
Or who shall dight your bowres, fith she is dead
That was the Lady of your holy dayes?
Let now your blisse be turned into bale,
And into plaints conuert your ioyous playes,
And with the fame fill euery hill and dale.
Let Bagpipe neuer more be heard to shrill,
That may allure the fenfes to delight;
Ne euer Shepheard found his Oaten quill
Vnto the many, that prouoke them might
To idle pleasance: but let ghastlinesse
And drearie horror dim the cheareful! light,
To make the image of true heauinesse.
Let/birds be filent on the naked spray,
And fhady woods refound with dreadfull yells:
Let streaming floods their haftie courses stay,
And parching drouth drie vp the christall wells;
Let th' earth be barren and bring foorth no flowres,
And th' ayre be fild with noyse of dolefull knells,
And wandring fpirits walke vntimely howres.
And Nature nurse of euery liuing thing,
Let rest her felfe from her long wearinesse,
And cease henceforth things kindly forth to bring, 340 But hideous monsters full of vglineffe:
For fhe it is, that hath me done this wrong,
No nurse, but Stepdame, cruell, mercilesse,
Weepe Shepheard weepe to make my vnderfong.
4 My litle flocke, whom earft I lou'd fo well, And wont to feede with finest graffe that grew, Feede ye hencefoorth on bitter Aftrofell,
And stinking Smallage, and vnfauerie Rew;
And when your mawes are with those weeds corrupted, Be the ye of Wolues: ne will I rew, That with your carkasses wild beasts be glutted. 350
Ne worse to you my fillie sheepe I pray,
Ne forer vengeance with on you to fall
Than to my felfe, for whofe confufde decay
To carelesse heauens I doo daylie call:
But heauens refuse to heare a wretches cry,
And cruell death doth fcorne to come at call,
Or graunt his boone that most desires to dye. /
The good and righteous he away doth take,
To plague th' vnrighteous which aliue remaine :
But the vngodly ones he doth forfake,
By liuing long to multiplie their paine :
Els furely death fhould be no punishment,
As the great Iudge at firft did it ordaine,
But rather riddance from long languishment.
Therefore my Daphne they haue tane away;
For worthie of a better place was she:
But me vnworthie willed here to stay,
That with her lacke I might tormented be.
Sith then they fo haue ordred, I will pay
Penance to her according their decree,
And to her ghost doe feruice day by day.
For I will walke this wandring pilgrimage,
Throuhout the world from one to other end,
And in affliction waste my better age.
My bread shall be the anguish of my mynd,
My drink the teares which fro my eyes do raine,
My bed the ground that hardest I may fynd:
So will I wilfully increase my paine.
And the my loue that was, my Saint that is,
When the beholds from her celeftiall throne,
(In which thee ioyeth in eternall blis)
My bitter penance, will my cafe bemone,
And pitie me that liuing thus doo die:
For heauenly spirits haue compassion
On mortall men, and rue their miserie.
So when I haue with sorrow satisfyde
Th' importune fates, which vengeance on me feeke,
And th' eauens with long languor pacifyde,
She for pure pitie of my sufferance meeke,
Will fend for me; for which I daylie long,
And will till then my painfull penance eeke:
Weepe Shepheard, weepe to make my vndersong.
5 Hencefoorth. I hate what euer Nature made,
And in her workmanship no pleasure finde :
For they be all but vaine, and quickly fade,
So foone as on them blowes the Northern winde,
They tarrie not, but flit and fall away,
Leauing behind them nought but griefe of minde,
And mocking fuch as thinke they long will stay.
I hate the heauen, because it doth withhould
Me from my loue, and eke my loue from me;
I hate the earth, because it is the mould
Of fleshly flime and fraile mortalitie;
I hate the fire, because to nought it flyes,
I hate the Ayre, because fighes of it be,
I hate the Sea, because it teares fupplyes.
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