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Thenot. Many meet tales of youth did he make, With painted words tho gan this proud weed
(As most usen ambitious folk)
His colour'd crime with craft to cloke.
Ah, my Sovereign ! lord of creatures all,
Was not I planted of thine own hand,
With flowring blossoms to furnish the prime,
And scarlet berries in sommer-time?
Whose body is sere, whose branches broke,
Unto such tyranny doth aspire,
Hindring with his shade my lovely light,
So beat his old boughs my tender side,
That oft the bloud springeth from woundes wide ;
That been the honour of your coronal ;
And oft he lets his canker-worms light
Upon my branches, to work me more spight;
And of his hoary locks down doth cast,
For this, and many more such outrage,
Craving your godlyhead to assuage
The rancorous rigour of his might;
Submitting me to your good sufferaunce,
And praying to be guarded from grievaunoe.
Had kindled such coles of displeasure,
That the good man nould stay his leasure,
But home him hasted with furious heat,
Encreasing his wrath with many a threat;
His harmful hatchet he hent in hand,
And to the field alone he speedeth,
(Aye little help to harm there needeth)
Anger nould let him speak to the tree,
And made many wounds in the waste Oak.
As half unwilling to cut the grain,
Seemed the senseless iron did fear,
Or to wrong holy eld did forbear;
For it had been an antient tree,
Sacred with many a mystery,
And often crost with the priests' crew,
And often hallowed with holy-water dew;
But like fancies weren foolery,
And broughten this Oak to this misery;
For nought mought they quitten him from decay,
For fiercely the good man at him did lay.
The block oft groaned under his blow,
And sighed to see his near overthrow.
In fine, the steel had pierced his pith,
Tho down to the ground he fell forthwith.
His wondrous weight made the ground to quake,
Th' earth shrunk under him, and seem'd to shake:
There lieth the Oak pitied of none.
Now stands the Breere like a lord alone,
Pay to her usury of long delight; Puff'd up with pride and vain pleasance;
And whilst she doth her dight, But all this glee had no continuance:
Do ye to her of joy and solace sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.
Bring with you all the nymphs that you can hear
Both of the rivers and the forests green, Now 'gan he repent his pride too late,
And of the sea that neighbours to her near, For naked left and disconsolate,
All with gay girlands goodly well beseen ; The biting frost nipt his stalk dead,
And let them also with them bring in hand The watry wet weighed down his head,
Another gay girland, And heaped snow burdned him so sore,
For my fair love, of lillies and of roses, That now upright he can stand no more;
Bound true-love wise with a blue silk riband; And being down is trod in the durt
And let them make great store of bridal posies, Of cattel, and brouzed, and sorely hurt.
And let them eke bring store of other flowers Such was th' end of this ambitious Breere,
To deck the bridal bowers; For scorning eld"
And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread, Cuddy. Now I pray thee shepherd, tell it not forth: For fear the stones her tender foot should wrong, Here is a long tale and little worth.
Be strew'd with fragrant flowers all along, So long have I listened to thy speech,
And diapred like the discoloured meed: That graffed to the ground is my breech ;
Which done, do at her chamber-door await, My heart-blood is well nigh frozen I feel,
For she will waken strait; And my galage grown fast to my heel;
The whiles do ye this song unto her sing, But little ease of thy leud tale I tasted;
The woods shall to you answer, and your eccho ring.
“ Ye nymphs of Mulla, which with careful heed
And greedy pikes which use therein to feed,
(Those trouts and pikes all others do excel) Ye learned Sisters! which have oftentimes
And ye likewise, which keep the rushie lake,
Where none do fishes take,
And in his waters, which your mirror make,
That when you come whereas my love doth lie,
No blemish she may spie.
That on the hoary mountain use to towre,
And the wild wolves which seek them to devour, Your doleful dreriment;
Which your steel darts do chace from coming near, Now lay those sorrowful complaints aside,
Be also present here
To help to deck her, and to help to sing,
“ Wake now, my Love! awake, for it is time; So I unto my self alone will sing,
The rosie morn long since left Tithon's bed, The woods shall to me answer, and my eccho ring. And ready to her silver coach to clime,
And Phoebus 'gins to shew his glorious head.
Hark! how the chearful birds do chaunt their layes,
The thrush replies, the mevis descant plays,
The ouzel shrills, the ruddock warbles soft; My truest turtle-dove,
So goodly all agree, with sweet consent,
To this day's merriment.
T' await the coming of your joyous make,
And hearken to the bird's love-learned song,
For they of joy and pleasance to you sing,
Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best:
So well it her beseems, that ye would ween
Do like a golden mantel her attire,
But first come, ye fair Houres ! which were begot And being crowned with a girland green,
Seem like some maiden queen.
Her modest eyes, abashed to behold
So many gazers as on her do stare,
Upon the lowly ground affixed 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 sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.
So fair a creature in your town before,
So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she,
Adorn'd with beauty's grace and vertue's store?
Her cheeks like apples which the sun hath rudded,
Her lips like cherries, charming men to bite,
Her breast like to a bowl of cream uncrudded,
like lillies budded,
Her snowy neck like to a marble towre, de For fear of burning her sun-shiny face,
And all her body like a palace fair,
Ascending up with many a stately stair
To Honour's seat, and Chastity's sweet bowre.
Why stand ye still, ye virgins ! in amaze,
Upon her so to gaze ;
Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing,
To which the woods did answer, and your ecchoring.
« But if ye saw that which no eyes can see,
The inward beauty of her lively spright,
Garnish'd with heavenly gifts of high degree,
Much more then would ye wonder at the sight,
And stand astonish'd like to those which red
Medusa's mazeful head.
There dwells sweet Love and constant Chastity,
Unspotted Faith and comely Womanhood,
Regard of Honour and mild Modesty;
There Vertue reigns as queen of royal throne
And giveth laws alone,
The which the base affections do obey,
And yield their services unto her will;
Ne thought of things uncomely ever may
Had ye once seen these her celestial treasures,
And unrevealed pleasures,
Then would ye wonder, and her praises sing, (ring.
That all the woods should answer, and your eccho
“ 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 girlands trim,
For to receive this saint with honour due,
That cometh in to you,
With trembling steps and humble reverence
When once the Crab behind his back he sees: She cometh in before th’ Almighty's view;
But for this time it ill ordained was, Of her, ye Virgins ! learn obedience,
To chuse the longest day in all the year, Whenso ye come into those holy places,
And shortest night, when longest fitter were; To humble your proud faces.
Yet never day so long but late would pass. Bring her up to th' high altar, that she may Ring ye the bells to make it wear away, The sacred ceremonies there partake,
And bonefires make all day, The which do endless matrimony make;
And daunce about them, and about them sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.
“ Ah! when will this long weary day have end, The choristers the joyous anthems sing,
And lend me leave to come unto my love?
How slowly doth sad Time his feathers move? “ Behold, whiles she before the altar stands,
Haste thee, O fairest Planet! to thy home, Hearing the holy priest that to her speaks,
Within the western foame; And blesses her with his two happy hands,
Thy tyred steeds long since have need of rest.
Long tho it be, at last I see it gloom,
Appear out of the east.
Fair child of beauty, glorious lamp of love About the sacred altar do remain,
That all the host of heaven in ranks dost lead, Forget their service, and about her fly,
And guidest lovers through the night's sad dread,
And seem'st to laugh atween thy twinkling light,
Of these glad many, which for joy do sing, (ring."
That all the woods them answer, and their eccho
Enough it is that all the day was yours;
Now day is done, and night is nighing fast,
Now night is come, now soon her disarray,
And in her bed her lay; « Now all is done; bring home the bride again, Bring home the triumph of our victory :
Lay her in lillies and in violets,
And silken curtains over her display,
And odour'd sheets, and arras coverlets.
Behold how goodly my fair love does lie,
In proud humility;
In Tempe, lying on the flowrie grass,
'Twixt sleep and wake, after she weary was Pour not by cups, but by the belly-full:
With bathing in the Acidalian brook :
Now it is night, ye damsels may be gone,
The woods no more shallanswer, nor your eccho ring.
Now welcome night, thou night so long expected,
That long day's labour dost at length defray, The whiles the maidens do their carol sing, (ring.
And all my cares, which cruel Love collected,
Spread thy broad wing over my love and me,
From fear of peril, and foul horror free ;
Let no false treason seek us to entrap,
Nor any dread disquiet once annoy
The safety of our joy,
But let the night be calm and quietsome,
The Latmian shepherd once unto thee brought,
sures with thee wrought:
Therefore to us be favourable now,
And sith of women's labours thou hast charge,
And generation goodly dost enlarge,
Encline thy will t'effect our wishful vow,
And the chaste womb inform with timely seed,
That may our comfort breed;
Till which we cease our hopeful hap to sing,
Ne let the woods us answer, nor our eccho ring.
And thou, great Juno! which with awful might
The laws of wedlock still dost patronize,
And the religion of the faith first plight,
With sacred rights hast taught to solemnize,
And eke for comfort often called art
Of women in their smart,
Eternally bind thou this lovely band,
And all thy blessing unto us impart.
And thou, glad Genius ! in whose gentle hand
The bridal bower and genial bed remain,
Without blemish or stain,
And the sweet pleasures of their love's delight
With secret aid dost succour and supply,
Till they bring forth the fruitful progeny,
Send us the timely fruit of this same night,
And thou, fair Hebe ! and thou, Hymen free,
Grant that it so may be.
Till which we cease your further praise to sing,
Ne any woods shall answer, nor your eccho ring.
And ye, high Heavens! the temple of the gods,
In which a thousand torches flaming bright
Do burn, that to us wretched earthly clods
In dreadful darkness lend desired light;
And all ye Powers which in the same remain,
More than we men can feign,
Pour out your blessing on us plenteously,
And happy influence upon us rain,
That we may rise a large posterity,
Which from the earth, which they may long possess
With lasting happiness,
Up to your haughty palaces may mount,
And for the guerdon of your glorious merit
May heavenly tabernacles there inherit,
Of blessed saints for to increase the count:
So let us rest, sweet Love! in hope of this
And cease till then our timely joys to sing,
The woods no more us answer, nor our eccho ring.
With which my love should duly have been deckt,
Which cutting off through hasty accidents,
Ye would not stay your due time to expect,
But promis'd both to recompence,
And for short time an endless monument.