Or be the shepheards which do ferue her laefie,
That they lift not their mery pipes applie?
Or be their pipes vntunable and craefie,
That they cannot her honour worthylie?
Ah nay (faid Colin) neither fo, nor fo:
For better shepheards be not vnder skie,
Nor better hable, when they lift to blow,
Their pipes aloud, her name to glorifie.
There is good Harpalus now woxen aged,
In faithfull feruice of faire Cynthia:
And there is Corydon, though meanly waged,
Yet hableft wit of moft I know this day.
And there is fad Alcyon bent to mourne,
Though fit to frame an euerlasting dittie,
Whose gentle spright for Daphnes death doth tourn
Sweet layes of loue to endleffe plaints of pittie.
Ah penfiue boy pursue that braue conceipt,
In thy fweet Eglantine of Meriflure,
Lift vp thy notes vnto their wonted height,
That may thy Mufe and mates to mirth allure.
There eke is Palin worthie of great praise,
Albe he enuie at my ruftick quill:
And there is pleafing Alcon, could he raise
His tunes from laies to matter of more skill.
And there is old Palemon free from fpight,
Whose carefull pipe may make the hearer rew:
Yet he himselfe may rewed be more right,
That fung fo long vntill quite hoarse he grew.
And there is Alabafter throughly taught,
In all this skill, though knowen yet to few,
Yet were he knowne to Cynthia as he ought,
His Elifeïs would be redde anew.
Who liues that can match that heroick fong,
Which he hath of that mightie Princesse made ?
O dreaded Dread, do not thy felfe that wrong,
To let thy fame lie fo in hidden shade :
But call it forth, O call him forth to thee,
To end thy glorie which he hath begun :
That when he finisht hath as it should be,
No brauer Poeme can be vnder Sun.
Nor Po nor Tyburs fwans fo much renowned,
Nor all the brood of Greece fo highly praised,
Can/match that Mufe whe it with bayes is crowned,
And to the pitch of her perfection raised.
And there is a new fhepheard late vp sprong,
The which doth all afore him far surpasse:
Appearing well in that well tuned fong,
Which late he sung vnto a scornfull laffe.
Yet doth his trembling Mufe but lowly flie,
As daring not too rafhly mount on hight,
And doth her tender plumes as yet but trie,
In loues foft laies and loofer thoughts delight.
Then rouze thy feathers quickly Daniell,
And to what course thou please thy felfe aduance :
But moft me feemes, thy accent will excell,
In Tragick plaints and passionate mischance.
And there that shepheard of the Ocean is,
That spends his wit in loues confuming fmart :
Full sweetly tempred is that Mufe of his
That can empierce a Princes mightie hart
There alfo is (ah no, he is not now)
But fince I faid he is, he quite is gone,
Amyntas quite is gone and lies full low,
Hauing his Amaryllis left to mone.
Helpe, O ye fhepheards helpe ye all in this,
Helpe Amaryllis this her loffe to mourne:
Her loffe is yours, your loffe Amyntas is,
Amyntas floure of shepheards pride forlorne :
He whileft he liued was the nobleft fwaine,
That euer piped in an oaten quill:
Both did he other, which could pipe, maintaine,
And eke could pipe himselfe with paffing skill.
And there though last not least is Aetion,
A gentler fhepheard may no where be found :
Whofe/Mufe full of high thoughts inuention,
Doth like himselfe Heroically found.
All these, and many others mo remaine,
Now after Afrofell is dead and gone :
But while as Aftrofell did liue and raine,
Amongst all these was none his Paragone.
All these do florish in their fundry kynd,
And do their Cynthia immortall make:
Yet found I lyking in her royall mynd,
Not for my skill, but for that fhepheards fake.
Then spake a louely lasse, hight Lucida,
Shepheard, enough of shepheards thou hast told,
Which fauour thee, and honour Cynthia:
But of fo many Nymphs which the doth hold
In her retinew, thou haft nothing fayd;
That seems, with none of the thou fauor foundest
Or art ingratefull to each gentle mayd,
That none of all their due deserts refoundest.
Ah far be it (quoth Colin Clout) fro me,
That I of gentle Mayds fhould ill deferue :
For that my felfe I do professe to be
Vaffall to one, whom all my dayes I ferue;
The beame of beautie sparkled from aboue,
The floure of vertue and pure chastitie,
The bloffome of sweet ioy and perfect loue,
The pearle of peerleffe grace and modeftie :
To her my thoughts I daily dedicate,
To her my heart I nightly martyrize:
To her my loue I lowly do proftrate,
To her my life I wholly facrifice :
My thought, my heart, my loue, my life is fhee,
And I hers euer onely, euer one :
One euer I all vowed hers to bee,
One euer I, and others neuer none.
Then thus Meliffa faid; Thrife happie Mayd,
Whom thou doeft fo enforce to deifie :
That woods, and hills, and valleyes thou haft made
Her name to eccho vnto heauen hie.
But say, who else vouchsafed thee of grace?
They all (quoth he) me graced goodly well, That all I praise, but in the highest place,
Vrania, fifter vnto Aftrofell,
In whose braue mynd as in a golden cofer,
All heauenly gifts and riches locked are,
More rich then pearles of Ynde, or gold of Opher,
And in her fex more wonderfull and rare.
Ne leffe praise worthie I Theana read,
Whofe goodly beames though they be ouer dight
With mourning stole of carefull wydowhead,
Yet through that darksome vale do glister bright;
She is the well of bountie and braue mynd,
Excelling moft in glorie and great light:
She is the ornament of womankind,
And Courts chief garlond with all vertues dight.
Therefore great Cynthia her in chiefest grace
Doth hold, and next vnto her felfe aduance,
Well worthie of fo honourable place,
For her great worth and noble gouernance.
Ne leffe praise worthie is her fifter deare,
Faire Marian, the Mufes onely darling :
Whose beautie fhyneth as the morning cleare,
With/filuer deaw vpon the roses pearling.
Ne leffe praise worthie is Manfilia,
Best knowne by bearing vp great Cynthiaes traine :
That fame is fhe to whom Daphnaida
Vpon her neeces death I did complainc.
She is the paterne of true womanhead,
And onely mirrhor of feminitie :
Worthie next after Cynthia to tread,
As fhe is next her in nobilitie.
Ne leffe praise worthie Galathea feemes,
Then beft of all that honourable crew,
Faire Galathea with bright fhining beames,
Inflaming feeble eyes that her do view.
She there then waited vpon Cynthia,
Yet there is not her won, but here with vs
About the borders of our rich Cofhma,
Now made of Maa the Nymph delitious.
Ne leffe praisworthie faire Neæra is,
Neæra ours, not theirs, though there the be,
For of the famous Shure, the Nymph fhe is,
For high defert, aduaunft to that degree.
She is the blofome of grace and curtefie,
Adorned with all honourable parts:
She is the braunch of true nobilitie,
Belou'd of high and low with faithfull harts.
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