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Edmund Spenser

Ïðî÷èòàíèé : 275


Òâîð÷³ñòü | Á³îãðàô³ÿ | Êðèòèêà

VIRGILS GNAT

Long  since  dedicated
To  the  most  noble  and  excellent  Lord,
THE  EARLE  OF  LEICESTER.
late  deceased.
Wrong'd,  yet  not  daring  to  expresse  my  paine,
To  you  (great  Lord)  the  causer  of  my  care,
In  clowdie  teares  my  case  I  thus  complaine
Vnto  yourselfe,  that  onely  priuie  are:
But  if  that  any  Oedipus  vnware
Shall  chaunce,  through  power  of  some  diuining  spright,
To  reade  the  secrete  of  this  riddle  rare,
And  know  the  purporte  of  my  euill  plight,
Let  him  rest  pleased  with  his  owne  insight,
Ne  further  seeke  to  glose  vpon  the  text:
For  griefe  enough  it  is  to  grieued  wight
To  feele  his  fault,  and  not  be  further  vext.
But  what  so  by  my  selfe  may  not  be  showen,
May  by  this  Gnatts  complaint  be  easily  knowen.  

V  I  R  G  I  L  S      G  N  A  T.
We  now  haue  playde  (Augustus)  wantonly,
Tuning  our  song  vnto  a  tender  Muse,
And  like  a  cobweb  weauing  slenderly,
Haue  onely  playde:  let  thus  much  then  excuse
This  Gnats  small  Poeme,  that  th'  whole  history
Is  but  a  jest,  though  envie  it  abuse:
But  who  such  sports  and  sweet  delights  doth  blame,
Shall  lighter  seeme  than  this  Gnats  idle  name.  
Hereafter,  when  as  season  more  secure
Shall  bring  forth  fruit,  this  Muse  shall  speak  to  thee
In  bigger  notes,  that  may  thy  sense  allure,
And  for  thy  worth  frame  some  fit  Poesie,
The  golden  offspring  of  Latona  pure,
And  ornament  of  great  Ioues  progenie,
Phoebus  shall  be  the  author  of  my  song,
Playing  on  iuorie  harp  with  siluer  strong.
He  shall  inspire  my  verse  with  gentle  mood
Of  Poets  Prince,  whether  he  woon  beside
Faire  Xanthus  sprincled  with  Chimæras  blood;
Or  in  the  woods  of  Astery  abide;
Or  whereas  mount  Parnasse,  the  Muses  brood,
Doth  his  broad  forhead  like  two  hornes  diuide
,  And  the  sweete  waues  of  sounding  Castaly
With  liquid  foote  doth  slide  downe  easily.
Wherefore  ye  Sisters  which  the  glorie  bee
Of  the  Pierian  streames,  fayre  Naiades,
Go  too,  and  dauncing  all  in  companie,
Adorne  that  God:  and  thou  holie  Pales,
To  whome  the  honest  care  of  husbandrie
Returneth  by  continuall  successe,
Haue  care  for  to  pursue  his  footing  light;
Throgh  the  wide  woods,  &  groues,  with  green  leaues  dight.
Professing  thee  I  lifted  am  aloft
Betwixt  the  forrest  wide  and  starrie  sky:
And  thou  most  dread  (Octauius)  which  oft
To  learned  wits  giuest  courage  worthily,
O  come  (thou  sacred  childe)  come  sliding  soft,
And  fauour  my  beginnings  graciously:
For  not  these  leaues  do  sing  that  dreadfull  stound,
When  Giants  bloud  did  staine  Phlegræan  ground.
Nor  how  th'  halfe  horsy  people,  Centaures  hight,
Fought  with  the  bloudie  Lapithaes  at  bord,
Nor  how  the  East  with  tyranous  despight
Burnt  th  Attick  towres,  and  people  slew  with  sword;
Was  digged  downe,  nor  yron  bands  abord
The  Pontick  sea  by  their  huge  Nauy  cast,
My  volume  shall  renowne,  so  long  since  past.
Nor  Hellespont  trampled  with  horses  feete,
When  flocking  Persians  did  the  Greeks  affray;
But  my  soft  Muse,  as  for  her  power  more  meete,
Delights  (with  Phoebus  friendly  leaue)  to  play
An  easie  running  verse  with  tender  feete.
And  thou  (dread  sacred  child)  to  thee  alway,
Let  euerlasting  lightsome  glory  striue,
Through  the  worlds  endles  ages  to  suruiue.
And  let  an  happie  roome  remaine  for  thee
Mongst  heauenly  ranks,  where  blessed  soules  do  rest;
And  let  long  lasting  life  with  ioyous  glee,
As  thy  due  meede  that  thou  deseruest  best,
Hereafter  many  yeares  remembred  be
Amongst  good  men,  of  whom  thou  oft  are  blest;
Liue  thou  for  euer  in  all  happinesse:
But  let  us  turne  to  our  first  businesse.
The  fiery  sun  was  mounted  now  on  hight
Vp  to  the  heauenly  towers,  and  shot  each  where
Out  of  his  golden  Charet  glistering  light;
And  fayre  Aurora  with  her  rosie  heare,
The  hatefull  darknes  now  had  put  to  flight,
When  as  the  shepheard  seeing  day  appeare,
His  little  Goats  gan  driue  out  of  their  stalls,
To  feede  abroad,  where  pasture  best  befalls.
To  an  high  mountaines  top  he  with  them  went,
Where  thickest  grasse  did  cloath  the  open  hills:
They  now  amongst  the  woods  and  thickets  ment,
Now  in  the  valleies  wandring  at  their  wills,
Spread  themselues  farre  abroad  through  each  descent;
Some  on  the  soft  greene  grasse  feeding  their  fills;
Some  clambring  through  the  hollow  cliffes  on  hy,
Nibble  the  bushie  shrubs,  which  growe  thereby.
Others  the  vtmost  boughs  of  trees  doe  crop,
And  brouze  the  woodbine  twigges,  that  freshly  bud
This  with  full  bit  doth  catch  the  vtmost  top
Of  some  soft  Willow,  or  new  growen  stud;
This  with  sharpe  teeth  the  brambles  leaues  doth  lop,
And  chaw  the  tender  prickles  in  her  Cud;
The  whiles  another  high  doth  ouerlooke
Her  owne  like  image  in  christall  brooke.
O  the  great  happines,  which  shepheards  haue,
Who  so  loathes  not  too  much  the  poor  estate,
With  minde  that  ill  vse  doth  before  depraue,
Ne  measures  all  things  by  the  costly  rate
Of  riotise,  and  semblants  outward  braue;
No  such  sad  cares,  as  wont  to  macerate
And  rend  the  greedie  mindes  of  couetous  men,
Do  euer  creepe  into  the  shepheards  den.
Ne  cares  he  if  the  fleece,  which  him  arayes,
Be  not  twice  steeped  in  Assyrian  dye,
Ne  glistering  of  golde,  which  vnderlayes
The  summer  beames,  doe  blinde  his  gazing  eye.
Ne  pictures  beautie,  nor  the  glauncing  rayes
Of  precious  stones,  whence  no  good  commeth  by;
Of  Bætus  or  of  Alcons  vanity.
Ne  ought  the  whelky  pearles  esteemeth  hee,
Which  are  from  Indian  seas  brought  far  away:
But  with  pure  brest  from  carefull  sorrow  free,
On  the  soft  grasse  his  limbs  doth  oft  display,
In  sweete  spring  time,  when  flowres  varietie
With  sundrie  colours  paints  the  sprincled  lay;
There  lyin  all  at  ease,  from  guile  or  spight,
With  pype  of  fennie  reedes  doth  him  delight.
There  he,  Lord  of  himselfe,  with  palme  bedight,
His  looser  locks  doth  wrap  in  wreath  of  vine:
There  his  milk  dropping  Goats  be  his  delight,
And  fruitful  Pales,  and  the  forrest  greene,
And  darkesome  caues  in  pleasaunt  vallies  pight,
Whereas  continuall  shade  is  to  be  seene,
And  where  fresh  sprining  wells,  as  christall  neate,
Do  alwayes  flow,  to  quench  his  thirstie  heate.
O  who  can  lead  them  to  a  more  happie  life,
Than  he,  that  with  cleane  minde  and  heart  sincere,
No  greedy  riches  knowes  nor  bloudie  strife,
No  deadly  fight  of  warlick  fleete  doth  feare,
Ne  runs  in  perill  of  foes  cruell  knife,
That  in  the  sacred  temples  he  may  reare,
A  trophee  of  his  glittering  spoyels  and  treasure,
Or  may  abound  in  riches  aboue  measure.
Of  him  his  God  is  worshipt  with  his  sythe,
And  not  with  skill  of  craftsman  polished:
He  ioyes  in  groues,  and  makes  himselfe  full  blythe,
With  sundrie  flowers  in  wilde  fieldes  gathered;
Ne  frankincens  he  from  Panchæa  buyth,
Sweete  quiet  harbours  in  his  harmeles  head,
And  perfect  pleasure  builds  her  iouyous  bowre,
Free  from  sad  cares,  that  rich  mens  hearts  deuowre.
This  all  his  care,  this  all  his  whole  indeuour,
To  this  his  minde  and  senses  he  doth  bend,
How  he  may  flow  in  quiets  matchles  treasour,
Content  with  any  food  that  God  doth  send;
And  how  his  limbs,  resolu'd  through  idle  leisour,
Vnto  sweete  sleepe  he  may  securely  lend,
In  some  coole  shadow  from  the  scorching  heate,
The  whiles  his  flock  their  chawed  cuds  do  eate.
O  flocks,  O  Faunes,  and  O  ye  pleasaunt  springs
Of  Tempe,  where  the  countrey  Nymphs  are  rife,
Through  whose  not  costly  care  each  shepheard  sings
As  merrie  notes  vpon  his  rusticke  Fife,
As  that  Ascræan  bard,  whose  fame  now  rings
Through  the  wide  world,  and  leads  as  ioyfull  life.
Free  from  all  troubles  and  from  worldly  toyle,
In  which  fond  men  doe  all  their  dayes  turmoyle.
In  such  delights  whilst  thus  his  carelesse  time
This  shepheard  driues,  vpleaning  on  his  batt,
And  on  shrill  reedes  chaunting  his  rustick  rime,
Hyperion  throwing  foorth  his  beames  full  hott,
Into  the  highest  top  of  heauen  gan  clime,
And  the  world  parting  by  an  equall  lott,
Did  shed  his  whirling  flames  on  either  side,
As  the  great  Ocean  doth  himselfe  diuide.
Then  gan  the  shepheard  gather  into  one
His  stragling  Goates,  and  draue  them  to  a  foord,
Whose  cærule  streame,  rombling  in  Pible  stone,
Crept  vnder  mosse  as  greene  as  any  goord.
Now  had  the  Sun  halfe  heauen  ouergone,
When  he  heard  back  from  that  water  foord,
Draue  from  the  force  of  Phoebus  boyling  ray,
Into  thick  shadowes,  there  themselues  to  lay.
Soone  as  he  them  plac'd  in  thy  sacred  wood
(O  Delian  Goddesse)  saw,  to  which  of  yore
Came  the  bad  daughter  of  old  Cadmus  brood,
Cruell  Agaue,  flying  vengeance  sore
Of  king  Nictilus  for  the  guiltie  blood,
Which  she  with  cursed  hands  had  shed  before;
There  she  halfe  frantick  hauing  slaine  her  sonne,
Did  shrowd  her  selfe  like  punishment  to  shonne.
Here  also  playing  on  the  grassy  greene,
Woodgods,  and  Satyres,  and  swift  Dryades,
With  many  Fairies  oft  were  dauncing  seene.
Not  so  much  did  Dan  Orpheus  represse,
The  streames  of  Hebrus  with  his  songs  I  weene,
As  that  faire  troupe  of  woodie  Goddesses
Staied  thee,  (O  Peneus)  powring  foorth  to  thee,
From  cheereful  lookes  great  mirth  &  gladsome  glee.
The  verie  nature  of  the  place,  resounding
With  gentle  murmure  of  the  breathing  ayre,
A  pleasant  bowre  with  all  delight  abounding
In  the  fresh  shadowe  did  for  them  prepayre,
To  rest  their  limbs  with  wearines  redounding.
For  first  the  high  Plaine  trees  with  braunches  faire,
Out  of  the  lowly  vallies  did  arise,
And  high  shoote  vp  their  heads  into  the  skyes.
And  them  amongst  the  wicked  Lotos  grew,
Wicked,  for  holding  guilefully  away
Vlysses  men,  whom  rapt  with  sweetnes  new,
Taking  to  hoste,  it  quite  from  him  did  stay,
And  eke  those  trees,  in  whose  transformed  hew
The  Sunnes  sad  daughters  waylde  the  rash  decay
Of  Phaeton,  whose  limbs  with  lightning  rent,
They  gathering  vp,  with  sweete  teares  did  lament.
And  that  same  tree,  in  which  Demophoon,
By  his  disloyalty  lamented  sore,
Eternall  hurte  left  vnto  many  one:
Whom  als  accompanied  the  Oke,  of  yore
Through  fatall  charmes  transformd  to  such  an  one:
The  Oke,  whose  Acornes  were  our  foode,  before
That  Ceres  seede  of  mortall  men  were  knowne,
Which  first  Triptoleme  taught  how  to  be  sowne.
Here  also  grew  the  rougher  rinded  Pine,
The  great  Argoan  ships  braue  ornament
Whom  golden  Fleece  did  make  an  heauenly  signe;
Which  coueting,  with  his  high  tops  extent,
To  make  the  mountaines  touch  the  starres  diuine,
Decks  all  the  forrest  with  embellishment,
And  the  blacke  Holme  that  loues  the  watrie  vale,
And  the  sweete  Cypresse  signe  of  deadly  bale.
Emongst  the  rest  the  clambring  Yuie  grew,
Knitting  his  wanton  armes  with  grasping  hold,
Least  that  the  Poplar  happely  should  rew
Her  brothers  strokes,  whose  boughes  she  doth  enfold
With  her  lythe  twigs,  till  they  the  top  survew,
And  paint  with  pallid  greene  her  buds  of  gold.
Next  did  the  Myrtle  tree  to  her  approach,
Not  yet  vnmindfull  of  her  olde  reproach.
But  the  small  Birds  in  their  wide  boughs  embowring,
Chaunted  their  sundrie  tunes  with  sweete  consent,
And  vnder  them  a  siluer  Spring  forth  powring
His  trickling  streames,  a  gentle  murmure  sent;
Thereto  the  frogs,  bred  in  the  slimie  scowring
Of  the  moist  moores,  their  iarring  voyces  bent;
And  shrill  grashoppers  chirped  them  around:
All  which  the  ayrie  Echo  did  resound.
In  this  so  pleasant  place  this  Shepheards  flocke
Lay  euerie  where,  their  wearie  limbs  to  rest,
On  euerie  bush,  and  euerie  hollow  rocke
Where  breathe  on  them  the  whistling  wind  mote  best;
The  whiles  the  Shepheard  self  tending  his  stocke,
Sate  by  the  fountaine  side,  in  shade  to  rest,
Where  gentle  slumbring  sleep  opressed  him,
Displaid  on  ground,  and  seized  euerie  lim.
Of  trecherie  or  traines  nought  tooke  he  keep,
But  looslie  on  the  grassie  greene  dispredd,
His  dearest  life  did  trust  to  careles  sleep;
Which  weighing  down  his  drouping  drowsie  hedd,
In  quiet  rest  his  molten  heart  did  steep,
Deuoid  of  care,  and  feare  of  all  falsehedd:
Had  not  inconstant  fortune,  bent  to  ill,
Bid  strange  mischance  his  quietnes  to  spill.
For  at  his  wonted  time  in  that  same  place
An  huge  great  Serpent  all  with  speckles  pide,
To  drench  himselfe  in  moorish  slime  did  trace,
There  from  the  boyling  heate  himselfe  to  hide:
He  passing  by  with  rolling  wreathed  pace,
With  brandisht  tongue  the  emptie  aire  did  gride,
And  wrapt  his  scalie  boughts  with  fell  despight,
That  all  things  seem'd  appalled  at  his  sight.
Now  more  and  more  hauing  himself  enrolde,
His  glittering  breast  he  lifteth  vp  on  hie,
And  with  proud  vaunt  his  head  aloft  doth  holde;
His  creste  aboue  spotted  with  purple  die,
On  euerie  side  did  shine  like  scalie  golde,
And  his  bright  eyes  glauncing  full  dreadfullie,
Did  seeme  to  flame  out  flakes  of  flashing  fyre,
And  with  sterne  lookes  to  threaten  kindled  yre.
Thus  wise  long  time  he  did  himselfe  dispace
There  round  about,  when  as  at  last  he  spide
Lying  along  before  him  in  that  place,
That  flocks  grand  Captaine,  and  most  trustie  guide:
Eftsoones  more  fierce  in  visage,  and  in  pace,
Throwing  his  firie  eyes  on  euerie  side,
He  commeth  on,  and  all  things  in  his  way
Full  stearnly  rends,  that  might  his  passage  stay.
Much  he  disdaines,  that  anie  one  should  dare
To  come  vnto  his  haunt;  for  which  intent
He  inly  burns,  and  gins  straight  to  prepare
The  weapons,  which  Nature  to  him  hath  lent:
Fellie  he  hisseth,  and  doth  fiercely  stare,
And  hath  his  iawes  with  angrie  spirits  rent,
That  all  his  tract  with  bloudie  drops  is  stained,
And  all  his  foldes  are  now  in  length  outstrained.
Whom  thus  at  point  prepared,  to  preuent,
A  little  noursling  of  the  humid  ayre,
A  Gnat  vnto  the  sleepie  Shepheard  went,
And  marking  where  his  ey-lids  twinckling  rare,
Shewd  the  two  pearles,  which  sight  vnto  him  lent,
Through  their  thin  couerings  appearing  fayre,
His  little  needle  there  infixing  deep,
Warnd  him  awake,  from  death  himselfe  to  keep.
Wherewith  enrag'd,  he  fiecely  gan  vpstart,
And  with  his  hand  him  rashly  bruzing,  slewe
As  in  auengement  of  his  heedles  smart,
That  streight  the  sprite  out  of  his  senses  flew,
And  life  out  of  his  members  did  depart:
When  suddenly  casting  aside  his  vew,
He  spide  his  foe  with  felonous  intent,
And  feruent  eyes  to  his  destruction  bent.
All  suddenly  dismaid,  and  hartles  quight,
He  fled  abacke,  and  catching  hastie  holde
Of  a  yong  alder  hard  beside  him  pight,
It  rent,  and  streight  about  him  gan  beholde,
What  God  or  Fortune  would  assist  his  might.
But  whether  God  or  Fortune  made  him  bold
Its  hard  to  read:  yet  hardie  will  he  had
To  ouercome,  that  made  him  lesse  adrad.
The  scalie  backe  of  that  most  hideous  snake
Enwrapped  round,  oft  faining  to  retire,
And  oft  him  to  assaile,  he  fiercely  strake
Whereas  his  temples  did  his  creast  front  tyre;
And  for  he  was  but  slowe,  did  slowth  off  shake,
And  gazing  ghastly  on  (for  feare  and  yre
Had  blent  so  much  his  sense,  that  lesse  he  feard;)
Yet  when  he  saw  him  slaine,  himself  he  cheard.
By  this  the  night  forth  from  the  darksome  bowre
Of  Herebus  her  teemed  steedes  gan  call,
And  laesie  Vesper  in  his  timelie  howre
From  golden  Oeta  gan  proceede  withall;
Whenas  the  Shepheard  after  this  sharpe  stowre,
Seeing  the  doubled  shadowes  low  to  fall,
Gathering  his  straying  flocke,  does  homeward  fare,
And  vnto  rest  his  wearie  ioynts  prepare.
Into  whose  sense  so  soone  as  lighter  sleepe
Was  entered,  and  now  loosing  euerie  lim,
Sweete  slumbring  deaw  in  carelessenesse  did  steepe,
The  Image  of  that  Gnat  appeard  to  him,
And  in  sad  tearmes  gan  sorrowfully  weepe,
With  greislie  countenaunce  and  visage  grim,
Wailing  the  wrong  which  he  had  done  of  late,
In  steed  of  good  hastning  his  cruell  fate.
Said  he,  what  haue  I  wretch  deseru'd,  that  thus
Into  this  bitter  bale  I  am  outcast,
Whilest  that  thy  life  more  deare  and  precious
Was  than  mine  owne,  so  long  as  it  did  last?
I  now  in  lieu  of  paines  so  gracious,
am  tost  in  th'  ayre  with  euerie  windie  blast:
Thou  safe  deliuered  from  sad  decay,
Thy  careles  limbs  in  loose  sleep  dost  display.
So  liuest  thou,  but  my  poore  wretched  ghost
Is  forst  to  ferrie  ouer  Lethes  Riuer,
And  spoyld  of  Charon  too  and  fro  am  tost.
Seest  thou,  how  all  places  quake  and  quiuer
Lightned  with  deadly  lamps  on  euerie  post?
Tisiphone  each  where  doth  shake  and  shiuer
Her  flaming  fire  brond,  encountring  me,
Whose  lockes  vncombed  cruell  adders  be.
And  Cerberus,  whose  many  mouthes  doo  bay,
And  barke  out  flames,  as  if  on  fire  he  fed;
Adowne  whose  necke  in  terrible  array,
Ten  thousand  snakes  cralling  about  his  hed
Doo  hang  in  heapes,  that  horribly  affray,
And  bloodie  eyes  do  glister  firie  red;
He  oftentimes  me  dreadfullie  doth  threaten,
With  painfull  torments  to  be  sorely  beaten.
Ay  me,  that  thankes  so  much  should  faile  of  meed,
For  that  I  thee  restor'd  to  life  againe,
Euen  from  the  doore  of  death  and  deadlie  dreed.
Where  then  is  now  the  guerdon  of  my  paine?
Where  the  reward  of  my  so  piteous  deed?
The  praise  of  pitie  vanisht  is  in  vaine,
And  th'  antique  faith  of  Iustice  long  agone
Out  of  the  land  is  fled  away  and  gone.
I  saw  anothers  fate  approaching  fast,
And  left  mine  owne  his  safetie  to  tender;
Into  the  same  mishap  I  now  am  cast,
And  shun'd  destruction  doth  destruction  render;
Not  vnto  him  that  neuer  hath  trespast,
But  punishment  is  due  to  the  offender.
Yet  long  destruction  be  the  punishment,
So  long  as  thankfull  will  may  it  relent.
I  carried  am  into  waste  wildernesse,
Waste  wildernes,  amongst  Cymerian  shades,
Where  endles  paines  and  hideous  heauinesse
Is  round  about  me  heapt  in  darksome  glades.
For  there  huge  Othos  sits  in  sad  distresse,
Fast  bound  with  serpents  that  him  oft  inuades;
Far  of  beholding  Ephialtes  tide,
Which  once  assai'd  to  burne  this  world  so  wide.
And  there  is  mournfull  Tityus  mindefull  yet
Of  thy  displeasure,  O  Latona  faire;
Displeasure  too  implacable  was  it,
That  made  him  meat  for  wild  foules  of  the  ayre:
Much  do  I  feare  among  such  fiends  to  sit;
Much  do  I  feare  back  to  them  to  repayre,
To  the  black  shadowes  of  the  Stygian  shore,
Where  wretched  ghosts  sit  wailing  euermore.
There  next  the  vtmost  brinck  doth  he  abide,
That  did  the  bankets  of  the  Gods  bewray,
Whose  throat  through  thirst  to  nought  nigh  being  dride
His  sense  to  seeke  for  ease  turnes  euery  way:
And  he  that  in  auengement  of  his  pride,
For  scorning  to  the  sacred  Gods  to  pray,
Against  a  mountaine  rolls  a  mighty  stone,
Calling  in  vaine  for  rest,  and  can  haue  none.
Go  ye  with  them,  go  cursed  damosells,
Whose  bridale  torches  foule  Erynnis  tynde,
And  Hymen  at  your  Spousalls  sad,  foretells
Tydings  of  death  and  massacre  vnkinde:
With  them  that  cruell  Colchid  mother  dwells,
The  which  conceiu'd  in  her  reuengefull  minde,
With  bitter  woundes  her  owne  deere  babes  to  slay
,  
And  murdred  troupes  vpon  great  heapes  to  lay.
There  also  those  two  Pandionian  maides,
Calling  on  Itis,  Itis  euermore,
Whom  wretched  boy  they  slew  with  guiltie  blades;
For  whome  the  Thracian  king  lamenting  sore,
Turn'd  to  a  Lapwing,  fowlie  them  vpbraydes,
And  fluttering  round  about  them  still  does  sore;
There  now  they  all  eternally  complaine
Of  others  wrong,  and  suffer  endles  paine.
But  the  two  brethren  borne  of  Cadmus  blood,
Whilst  each  does  for  the  Soueraignty  contend,
Blinde  through  ambition,  and  with  vengeance  wood
Each  doth  against  the  others  bodie  bend
His  cursed  steele,  of  neither  well  withstood,
And  with  wide  wounds  their  carcases  doth  rend;
That  yet  they  both  doe  mortall  foes  remaine,
Sith  each  with  brothers  bloudie  hands  was  slaine.
Ah  (waladay)  there  is  no  end  of  paine,
Nor  chaunge  of  labour  may  intreated  bee:
Yet  I  beyond  all  these  am  carried  faine,
Where  others  powers  farre  different  I  see,
And  must  passe  ouer  to  th'  Elisian  plaine:
There  grim  Persephone  encountring  mee,
Doth  vrge  her  fellowFuries  earnestly,
With  their  bright  firebronds  me  to  terrifie.
There  chast  Alceste  liues  inuiolate,
Free  from  all  care,  for  that  her  husbands  daies
She  did  prolong  by  changing  fate  for  fate,
Lo  there  liues  also  the  immortall  praise  
Of  womankinde,  most  faithfull  to  her  mate,
Penelope:  and  from  her  farre  awayes
A  rulesse  rout  of  yongmen,  which  her  woo'd
All  slaine  with  darts,  lie  wallowed  in  their  blood.
And  sad  Eurydice  thence  now  no  more
Must  turne  to  life,  but  there  detained  bee,
For  looking  back,  being  forbid  before:
Yet  was  the  guilt  thereof,  Orpheus,  in  thee.
Bold  sure  he  was,  and  worthie  spirite  bore,
That  durst  those  lowest  shadowes  goe  to  see,
And  could  beleeue  that  anie  thing  could  please
Fell  Cerberus,  or  Stygian  powres  appease.
Ne  feard  the  burning  waues  of  Phlegeton,
Nor  those  same  mournfull  kingdomes  compassed
With  rustie  horrour  and  fowle  fashion,
And  deep  digd  vawtes,  and  Tartar  couered
With  bloodie  night,  and  darke  confusion,
And  iudgement  seates,  whose  Iudge  is  deadlie  dred,
A  iudge,  that  after  death  doth  punish  sore
The  faults,  which  life  hath  trespassed  before.
But  valiant  fortune  made  Dan  Orpheus  bolde:
For  the  swift  running  riuers  still  did  stand,
And  the  wilde  beasts  their  furie  did  withhold,
To  follow  Orpheus  musicke  through  the  land:
And  th'  Okes  deep  grounded  in  the  earthly  molde
Did  moue,  as  if  they  could  him  vnderstand;
And  the  shrill  woods,  which  were  of  sense  bereau'd,
Through  their  hard  barke  his  siluer  sound  receau'd.
And  eke  the  Moone  her  hastie  steedes  did  stay,
Drawing  in  teemes  along  the  starrie  skie,
And  didst  (ô  monthly  Virgin)  thou  delay
Thy  nightly  course,  to  heare  his  melodie?
The  same  was  able  with  like  louely  lay
The  Queene  of  hell  to  moue  as  easily,
To  yeeld  Eurydice  vnto  her  fere,
Backe  to  be  borne,  though  it  vnlawfull  were.
She  (Ladie)  hauing  well  before  approoued,
The  feends  to  be  too  cruell  and  seuere,
Obseru'd  th'  appointed  way,  as  her  behooued,
Ne  euer  did  her  ey-sight  turne  arere,
Ne  euer  spake,  ne  cause  of  speaking  mooued:
But  cruell  Orpheus  thou  much  crueller,
Seeking  to  kisse  her,  brok'st  the  Gods  decree,
And  thereby  mad'st  her  euer  damn'd  to  be.
Ah  but  sweete  loue  of  pardon  worthie  is,
And  doth  deserue  to  haue  small  faults  remitted;
If  Hell  at  least  things  lightly  done  amis
Knew  how  to  pardon,  when  ought  is  omitted:
Yet  are  ye  both  receiued  into  blis,
And  to  the  seates  of  happie  soules  admitted.
And  you,  beside  the  honourable  band
Of  great  heroës  doo  in  order  stand.
There  be  the  two  stout  sonnes  of  Aeacus,
Fierce  Peleus,  and  the  hardie  Telamon.
Both  seeming  now  full  glad  and  ioyeous
Through  their  Syres  dreadfull  iurisdiction,
Being  the  Iudge  of  all  that  horrid  hous:
And  both  of  them  by  strange  occasion,
Renown'd  in  choyce  of  happie  marriage
Through  Venus  grace,  and  vertues  cariage.
For  th'one  was  rauisht  of  his  owne  bondmaide,
The  faire  Ixione  captiu'd  from  Troy:
But  th'  other  was  with  Thetis  loue  assaid,
Great  Nereus  his  daughter,  and  his  ioy.
On  this  side  them  there  is  a  yongman  layd,
Their  match  in  glorie,  mightie,  fierce  and  coy;
That  from  th'  Argolick  ships,  with  furious  yre,
Bett  back  the  furie  of  the  Troian  fyre.
O  who  would  not  recount  the  strong  diuorces
Of  that  great  warre,  which  Troianes  oft  behelde,
And  oft  beheld  the  warlike  Greekish  forces,
When  Teucrian  soyle  with  bloodie  riuers  swelde,
And  wide  Sigæan  shores  were  spred  with  corses,
And  Simois  and  Xanthus  blood  out  welde,
Whilst  Hector  raged  with  outragious  minde,
Flames,  weapons,  wounds,  in  Greeks  fleete  to  haue  tynde.
For  Ida  selfe,  in  ayde  of  that  fierce  fight,
Out  of  her  mountaines  ministred  supplies,
And  like  a  kindly  nourse,  did  yeeld  (for  spight)
Store  of  firebronds  out  of  her  nourseries,
Vnto  her  foster  children  that  they  might
Inflame  the  Nauie  of  their  enemies,
And  all  the  Rhætean  shore  to  ashes  turne,
Where  lay  the  ships,  which  they  did  seeke  to  burne.
Gainst  which  the  noble  sonne  of  Telamon
Opposd'  himselfe,  and  thwarting  his  huge  shield,
Them  battell  bad,  gainst  whom  appeard  anon
Hector,  the  glorie  of  the  Troian  field:
Both  fierce  and  furious  in  contention
Encountred,  that  their  mightie  strokes  so  shrild,
As  the  great  clap  of  thunder,  which  doth  ryue
The  ratling  heauens,  and  cloudes  asunder  dryue.
So  th'  one  with  fire  and  weapons  did  contend
To  cut  the  ships,  from  turning  home  againe
To  Argos,  th'  other  stroue  for  to  defend
The  force  of  Vulcane  with  his  might  and  maine.
Thus  th'one  Aecide  did  his  fame  extend:
But  th'  other  ioy'd,  that  on  the  Phrygian  playne
Hauing  the  blood  of  vanquisht  Hector  shedd,
He  compast  Troy  thrice  with  his  bodie  dedd.
Againe  great  dole  on  either  partie  grewe,
That  him  to  death  vnfaithfull  Paris  sent,
And  also  him  that  false  Vlysses  slewe,
Drawne  into  danger  through  close  ambushment:
Therefore  from  him  Laërtes  sonne  his  vewe
Doth  turne  aside,  and  boasts  his  good  euent
In  working  of  Strymonian  Rhæsus  fall,
And  efte  in  Dolonsslye  surprysall.
Againe  the  dreadfull  Cycones  him  dismay,
And  blacke  Læstrigones,  a  people  stout:
Then  greedie  Scilla,  vnder  whom  there  bay
Manie  great  bandogs,  which  her  gird  about:
Then  doo  the  Aetnean  Cyclops  him  affray,
And  deep  Charybdis  gulphing  in  and  out:
Lastly  the  squalid  lakes  of  Tartarie,
And  griesly  Feends  of  hell  him  terrifie.
There  also  goodly  Agamemnon  bosts,
The  glorie  of  the  stock  of  Tantalus,
And  famous  light  of  all  the  Greekish  hosts,
Vnder  whose  conduct  most  victorious,
The  Dorick  flames  consum'd  the  Iliack  posts.
Ah  but  the  Greekes  themselues  more  dolorous,
To  thee,  ô  Troy,  paid  penaunce  for  thy  fall,
In  th'  Hellespont  being  nigh  drowned  all.
Well  may  appeare  by  proofe  of  their  mischaunce,
The  chaungefull  turning  of  mens  slipperie  state,
That  none,  whom  fortune  freely  doth  aduaunce,
Himselfe  therefore  to  heauen  should  eleuate:
For  loftie  type  of  honour  through  the  glaunce
Of  enuies  dart,  is  downe  in  dust  prostrate;
And  all  that  vaunts  in  worldly  vanitie,
Shall  fall  through  fortunes  mutabilitie.
Th'  Argolicke  power  returning  home  againe,
Enricht  with  spoyes  of  th'  Ericthonian  towre,
Did  happie  winde  and  weather  entertaine,
And  with  good  speed  the  fomie  billowes  scowre:
No  signe  of  storme,  no  feare  of  future  paine,
Which  soone  ensued  them  with  heauie  stowre.
Nereïs  to  the  Seas  a  token  gaue,
The  whiles  their  crooked  keeles  the  surges  claue.
Suddenly,  whether  through  the  Gods  decree,
Or  haplesse  rising  of  some  froward  starre,
The  heauens  on  euerie  side  enclowded  bee:
Black  stormes  and  fogs  are  blowen  vp  from  farre,
That  now  the  Pylote  can  no  loadstarre  see,
But  skies  and  seas  doo  make  most  dreadfull  warre;
The  billowes  striuing  to  the  heauens  to  reach,
And  th'  heauens  striuing  them  for  to  impeach.
And  in  auengement  of  their  bold  attempt,
Both  Sun  and  starres  and  all  the  heauenly  powres
Conspire  in  one  to  wreake  their  rash  contempt,
And  downe  on  them  to  fall  from  highest  towres:
The  skie  in  pieces  seeming  to  be  rent,
Throwes  lightning  forth,  &  haile,  &  harmful  showres
That  death  on  euerie  side  to  them  appeares
In  thousand  formes,  to  worke  more  ghastly  feares.
Some  in  the  greedie  flouds  are  sunke  and  drent,
Some  on  the  rocks  of  Caphareus  are  throwne;
Some  on  th'  Euboick  Cliffs  in  pieces  rent;
Some  scattred  on  the  Hercæan  shores  vnknowne;
And  manie  lost,  of  whom  no  moniment
Remaines,  
nor  memorie  is  to  be  showne:
Whilst  all  the  purchase  of  the  Phrigian  pray
Tost  on  salt  billowes,  round  about  doth  stray.
Here  manie  other  like  Heroës  bee,
Equall  in  honour  to  the  former  crue,
Whom  ye  in  goodly  seates  may  placed  see,
Descended  all  from  Rome  by  linage  due,
From  Rome,  that  holds  the  world  in  souereigntie,
And  doth  all  Nations  vnto  her  subdue:
Here  Fabij  and  Decij  doo  dwell,
Horatij  that  in  vertue  did  excell.
And  here  the  antique  fame  of  stout  Camill
Doth  euer  liue,  and  constant  Curtius,
Who  stifly  bent  his  vowed  life  to  spill
For  Countreyes  health,  a  gulph  most  hideous
Amidst  the  Towne  with  his  owne  corps  did  fill,
T'  appease  the  powers;  and  prudent  Mutius,
Who  in  his  flesh  endur'd  the  scorching  flame,
To  daunt  his  foe  by  ensample  of  the  same.
And  here  wise  Curius,  companion
Of  noble  vertues,  liues  in  endles  rest;
And  stout  Flaminius,  whose  deuotion
Taught  him  the  fires  scorn'd  furie  to  detest;
And  here  the  praise  of  either  Scipion
Abides  in  highest  place  aboue  the  best,
To  whom  the  ruin'd  walls  of  Carthage  vow'd,
Trembling  their  forces,  sound  their  praises  lowd.
Liue  they  for  euer  through  their  lasting  praise:
But  I  poore  wretch  am  forced  to  retourne
To  the  sad  lakes,  that  Phoebus  sunnie  rayes
Doo  neuer  see,  where  soules  doo  alwaies  mourne,
And  by  the  wayling  shores  to  waste  my  dayes,
Where  Phlegeton  with  quenchles  flames  doth  burne;
By  which  iust  Minos  righteous  soules  doth  seuer
From  wicked  ones,  to  liue  in  blisse  for  euer.
Me  therefore  thus  the  cruell  fiends  of  hell
Girt  with  long  snakes,  and  thousand  yron  chaynes,
Through  doome  of  that  their  cruell  Iudge,  compell
With  bitter  torture  and  impatient  paines,
Cause  of  my  death,  and  iust  complaint  to  tell.
For  thou  art  he,  whom  my  poore  ghost  complaines
To  be  the  author  of  her  ill  vnwares,
That  careles  hear'st  my  intollerable  cares.
Them  therefore  as  bequeathing  to  the  winde,
I  now  depart,  returning  to  thee  neuer,
And  leaue  this  lamentable  plaint  behinde.
But  doo  thou  haunt  the  soft  downe  rolling  riuer,
And  wilde  greene  woods,  and  fruitful  pastures  minde,
And  let  the  flitting  aire  my  vaine  words  seuer.
Thus  hauing  said,  he  heauily  departed
With  piteous  crie,  that  anie  would  haue  smarted.
Now,  when  the  sloathful  fit  of  lifes  sweete  rest
Had  left  the  heauie  Shepheard,  wondrous  cares
His  inly  grieued  minde  full  sore  opprest;
That  balefull  sorrow  he  no  longer  beares,
For  that  Gnats  death,  which  deeply  was  imprest:
But  bends  what  euer  power  his  aged  yeares
Him  lent,  yet  being  such,  as  through  their  might
He  lately  slue  his  dreadfull  foe  in  fight.
By  that  same  Riuer  lurking  vnder  greene,
Eftsoones  he  gins  to  fashion  forth  a  place,
And  squaring  it  in  compasse  well  beseene,
There  plotteth  out  a  tombe  by  measured  space:
His  yron  headed  spade  tho  making  cleene,
To  dig  vp  sods  out  of  the  flowrie  grasse,
His  worke  he  shortly  to  good  purpose  brought,
Like  as  he  had  conceiu'd  it  in  his  thought.
An  heape  of  earth  he  hoorded  vp  on  hie,
Enclosing  it  with  banks  on  euerie  side,
And  thereupon  did  raise  full  busily
A  little  mount,  of  greene  turffs  edifide;
And  on  the  top  of  all,  that  passers  by
Might  it  behold,  the  toomb  he  did  provide
Of  smoothest  marble  stone  in  order  set,
That  neuer  might  his  luckie  scape  forget.
And  round  about  he  taught  sweete  flowres  to  growe,
The  Rose  engrained  in  pure  scarlet  die,
The  Lilly  fresh,  and  Violet  belowe,
The  Marigolde,  and  cherefull  Rosemarie,
The  Spartan  Mirtle,  whence  sweet  gumb  does  flowe,
The  purple  Hyacinthe,  and  fresh  Costmarie,
And  Saffron  sought  for  in  Cilician  soyle,
And  Lawrell  th'  ornament  of  Phoebus  toyle.
Fresh  Rhododaphne,  and  the  Sabine  flowre
Matching  the  wealth  of  th'  auncient  Frankincence,
And  pallid  Yuie,  building  of  his  owne  bowre,
And  Box  yet  mindfull  of  his  olde  offence,
Red  Amaranthus,  lucklesse  Paramour,
Oxeye  still  greene,  and  bitter  Patience;
Ne  wants  there  pale  Narcisse,  that  in  a  well
Seeing  his  beautie,  in  loue  with  it  fell,
And  whatsoeuer  other  flowre  of  worth,
And  whatso  other  hearb  of  louely  hew
The  iouyous  Spring  out  of  the  ground  brings  forth,
To  cloath  her  selfe  in  colours  fresh  and  new;
He  planted  there,  and  reard  a  mount  of  earth,
In  whose  high  front  was  writ  as  doth  ensue.
To  thee,  small  Gnat,  in  lieu  of  his  life  saued,
       The  Shepheard  hath  thy  deaths  record  engraued.  
F  I  N  I  S.

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