[From the Edition of 1606]
From Eclogue vij
Now fye vpon thee wayward loue,
Woe to Venus which did nurse thee,
Heauen and earth thy plagues doe proue,
Gods and men haue cause to curse thee.
What art thou but th' extreamst madnesse,
Natures first and only error
That consum'st our daies in sadnesse,
By the minds Continuall terror:
Walking in Cymerian blindnesse,
10In thy courses voy'd of reason.
Sharp reproofe thy only kindnesse,
In thy trust the highest treason?
Both the Nymph and ruder swaine,
Vexing with continuall anguish,
Which dost make the ould complaine
And the young to pyne and languishe,
Who thee keepes his care doth nurse,
That seducest all to folly,
Blessing, bitterly doest curse,
20Tending to destruction wholly:
Thus of thee as I began,
So againe I make an end,
Neither god neither man,
Neither faiery, neither feend.
Batte.
What is Loue but the desire
Of the thing that fancy pleaseth?
A holy and resistlesse fier,
Weake and strong alike that ceaseth,
Which not heauen hath power to let,
30Nor wise nature cannot smother,
Whereby Phoebus doth begette
On the vniuersall mother.
That the euerlasting Chaine,
Which together al things tied,
And vnmooued them retayne
And by which they shall abide:
That concent we cleerely find,
All things doth together drawe,
And so strong in euery kinde,
40Subiects them to natures law.
Whose hie virtue number teaches
In which euery thing dooth mooue,
From the lowest depth that reaches
To the height of heauen aboue:
Harmony that wisely found,
When the cunning hand doth strike
Whereas euery amorous sound,
Sweetly marryes with his like.
The tender cattell scarcely take
50From their damm's the feelds to proue,
But ech seeketh out a make,
Nothing liues that doth not loue:
Not soe much as but the plant
As nature euery thing doth payre,
By it if the male it want
Doth dislike and will not beare:
Nothing then is like to loue
In the which all creatures be.
From it nere let me remooue
60Nor let it remooue from me.
From Eclogue ix
Batte.
Gorbo, as thou cam'st this waye
By yonder little hill,
Or as thou through the fields didst straye
Sawst thou my Daffadill?
Shee's in a frock of Lincolne greene
The colour maides delight
And neuer hath her beauty seen
But through a vale of white.
Then Roses richer to behold
10That trim vp louers bowers,
The Pansy and the Marigould
Tho Phœbus Paramours.
Gorbo. Thou well describ'st the Daffadill
It is not full an hower
Since by the spring neare yonder hill
I saw that louely flower.
Batte. Yet my faire flower thou didst not meet,
Nor news of her didst bring,
And yet my Daffadill more sweete,
20Then that by yonder spring.
Gorbo. I saw a shepheard that doth keepe
In yonder field of Lillies,
Was making (as he fed his sheepe)
A wreathe of Daffadillies.
Batte. Yet Gorbo thou delud'st me stil
My flower thou didst not see,
For know my pretie Daffadill
Is worne of none but me.
To shew it selfe but neare her seate,
30No Lilly is so bould,
Except to shade her from the heate,
Or keepe her from the colde:
Gorbo. Through yonder vale as I did passe,
Descending from the hill,
I met a smerking bony lasse,
They call her Daffadill:
Whose presence as along she went,
The prety flowers did greet,
As though their heads they downward bent,
40With homage to her feete.
And all the shepheards that were nie,
From toppe of euery hill,
Vnto the vallies lowe did crie,
There goes sweet Daffadill.
Gorbo. I gentle shepheard, now with ioy
Thou all my flockes dost fill,
That's she alone kind shepheards boy,
Let vs to Daffadill.
From Eclogue ix
Motto. Tell me thou skilfull shepheards swayne,
Who's yonder in the vally set?
Perkin. O it is she whose sweets do stayne,
The Lilly, Rose, or violet.
Motto. Why doth the Sunne against his kind,
Stay his bright Chariot in the skies,
Perkin. He pawseth almost stroken blind,
With gazing on her heauenly eies:
Motto. Why doe thy flocks forbeare their foode,
10Which somtyme was their chiefe delight,
Perkin. Because they neede no other good,
That liue in presence of her sight:
Motto. How com those flowers to florish still,
Not withering with sharpe winters breath?
Perkin. She hath robd nature of her skill,
And comforts all things with her breath:
Motto. Why slide these brookes so slow away,
As swift as the wild Roe that were,
Perkin. O muse not shepheard that they stay,
20When they her heauenly voice do heare.
Motto. From whence com all these goodly swayns
And lonely nimphs attir'd in greene,
Perkin. From gathering garlands on the playnes,
To crowne thy Siluia shepheards queen.
Motto. The sun that lights this world below,
Flocks, Brooks and flowers, can witnesse bear,
Perkin. These shepheards, and these nymphs do know,
Thy Syluia is as chast, as fayre.
From Eclogue ix
Rowland. Of her pure eyes (that now is seen)
Chorus. Help vs to sing that be her faithful swains
Row: O she alone the shepheards Queen,
Cho: Her Flocke that leades,
The goddesse of these medes,
These mountaines and these plaines.
Row: Those eyes of hers that are more cleere,
Cho: Then silly shepheards can in song expresse,
Row: Then be his beams that rule the yeare,
10Cho: Fy on that prayse,
In striuing things to rayse:
That doth but make them lesse.
Row: That doe the flowery spring prolong,
Cho: So much the earth doth in her presence ioy,
Row: And keeps the plenteous summer young:
Cho: And doth asswage
The wrathfull winters rage
That would our flocks destroy.
Row: Ioue saw her brest that naked lay,
20Cho: A sight alone was fit for Ioue to see:
Row: And swore it was the milkie way,
Cho: Of all most pure,
The path (we vs assure)
Vnto Ioues court to be.
Row: He saw her tresses hanging downe.
Cho: That too and fro were mooued with the ayre,
Row: And sayd that Ariadnes crowne,
Cho: With those compar'd:
The gods should not regard
30Nor Berenices hayre.
Row: When she hath watch'd my flockes by night,
Cho: O happie were the flockes that she did keepe:
Row: They neuer needed Cynthia's light,
Cho: That soone gaue place,
Amazed with her grace,
That did attend thy sheepe.
Row: Aboue where heauens hie glories are,
Cho: When as she shall be placed in the skies,
Row: She shall be calld the shepheards starre,
40Cho: And euermore,
We shepheards will adore,
Her setting and her rise.
