Ne (may it be withouten perill spoken)
The Archer-god, the sonne of Cytheree,
That ioyes on wretched lovers to be wroken*,
And heaped spoyles of bleeding harts to see, 100
Beares in his wings so manie a changefull token.
Ah! my liege Lord, forgive it unto mee,
If ought against thine honour I have tolde;
Yet sure those wings were fairer manifolde.
[* Wroken, avenged.]
Full many a ladie faire, in court full oft 105
Beholding them, him secretly envide,
And wisht that two such fannes, so silken soft
And golden faire, her Love would her provide;
Or that, when them the gorgeous flie had doft,
Some one that would with grace be gratifide 110
From him would steale them privily away,
And bring to her so precious a pray.
Report is that Dame Venus on a day,
In spring when flowres doo clothe the fruitful ground,
Walking abroad with all her nymphes to play, 115
Bad her faire damzels flocking her arownd
To gather flowres, her forhead to array.
Emongst the rest a gentle nymph was found,
Hight Astery, excelling all the crewe
In curteous usage and unstained hewe. 120
Who, being nimbler ioynted than the rest,
And more industrious, gathered more store
Of the fields honour than the others best;
Which they in secret harts envying sore,
Tolde Venus, when her as the worthiest 125
She praisd’, that Cupide (as they heard before)
Did lend her secret aide in gathering
Into her lap the children of the Spring,
Whereof the goddesse gathering iealous feare,—
Not yet unmindfull how not long agoe 130
Her sonne to Psyche secrete love did beare,
And long it close conceal’d, till mickle woe
Thereof arose, and manie a rufull teare,—
Reason with sudden rage did overgoe;
And, giving hastie credit to th’accuser, 135
Was led away of them that did abuse her.
Eftsoones that damzel by her heavenly might
She turn’d into a winged butterflie,
In the wide aire to make her wandring flight;
And all those flowres, with which so plenteouslie 140
Her lap she filled had, that bred her spight,
She placed in her wings, for memorie
Of her pretended crime, though crime none were:
Since which that flie them in her wings doth beare.
Thus the fresh Clarion, being readie dight, 145
Unto his iourney did himselfe addresse,
And with good speed began to take his flight:
Over the fields, in his franke* lustinesse;
And all the champion** he soared light;
And all the countrey wide he did possesse, 150
Feeding upon their pleasures bounteouslie,
That none gainsaid, nor none did him envie.
[* Franke, free.]
[** Champion, champaign.]
The woods, the rivers, and the medowes green.
With his aire-cutting wings he measured wide,
Ne did he leave the mountaines bare unseene, 155
Nor the ranke grassie fennes delights untride.
But none of these, how ever sweete they beene,
Mote please his fancie nor him cause t’abide:
His choicefull sense with everie change doth flit;
No common things may please a wavering wit. 160
To the gay gardins his unstaid desire
Him wholly caried, to refresh his sprights:
There lavish Nature, in her best attire,
Powres forth sweete odors and alluring sights;
And Arte, with her contending, doth aspire 165
T’excell the naturall with made delights:
And all that faire or pleasant may be found
In riotous excesse doth there abound.
There he arriving round about doth flie,
From bed to bed, from one to other border; 170
And takes survey, with curious busie eye,
Of every flowre and herbe there set in order;
Now this, now that, he tasteth tenderly,
Yet none of them he rudely doth disorder,
Ne with his feete their silken leaves deface, 175
But pastures on the pleasures of each place.
And evermore with most varietie,
And change of sweetnesse, (for all change is sweete,)
He casts his glutton sense to satisfie;
Now sucking of the sap of herbe most meete, 180
Or of the deaw which yet on them does lie,
Now in the same bathing his tender feete:
And then he pearcheth on some braunch thereby,
To weather him, and his moyst wings to dry.