in a short space that sweete seemlie Sainct Presentes mee her Pilgrime a baile-bearing Bill And as in the wilde way shee weind I should want My Bag and my Bottle shee plenisht at will A King from her Finger full faire did shee take And gaue mee and prayde mee good Newes to bring backe And having no more to say But loath I should long stay Shee weeping went away And not a word spake Then when the blacke Night her sadde Mantle shew Ill Successour degenerate from the Day UUith the third Foote in hand I throgh the thrang threw Though clad with the darke Clowdes I went on my way And loath to detaine the Lecture too long I came to my sicke Friende and this was his Song But when I knew his voice I kept my selfe full close To heare the Layes of his losse The wilde woods among The Heremite his Complaint SO manie thinges before haue perfect Poets pende For to expresse their piercing paines and cause their Cares bee kende That nought is left alace for most vnhappie mee In Skyes aboue on earth beneath nor in the glassie Sea No Metaphoricke Phrase no high Invention braue No Allegorie sweete Conceit no Theame sublime and graue But all thinges else are saide which I can write or say Thus in effect I wot not how my wracks for to bewray And nothing doeth aggrege my griping griefe so much As that my skill should be so small my sorowes should be such Yet all those Poets braue which were or yet shall bee Could I but vtter as I feele might all giue place to mee And thou whose mirth was least whose comfort was dismaid Whose hope was vaine whose faith was skorne whose trueth was betraide Thou didst declare thy duile in braue and daintie dye Thou wast vnhappie then I graunt but now vnhappie I. Thy Poemes did present vpon thy pleasant Page Moe Sorrowes than thou ever felt into thy cunning age With costlie Nurix rare Sidâ—niane Wares divine Thou litst thy Lines which makes thy Moanes miraculouslie to shine My Paines like Tagus Sandes no numbers can bewray Or like Auroras tears which she for Memnon sheeds each day As Starres in frostie Sky can not bee tolde which shynes So manie heaps of harms my hart without compassion pyns Yea would I preasse to tell the torments that I feele With travell tint then might I turne Irions fatall wheele And to disgorge these griefs which make mee sigh and sob Were for to weue a new Penelopeian webbe My Eyes like Fountaines might in bloodie Fornace frye Or like the Lidiane Tubs whose doome is never to bee drye My hote and smoothred sighes no levill course can take But restlesse round about my heart esphearicke motion make My Thoughtes are now of Blisse like ruine Ilion bare My shape a reconfused masse which flowrisht once so faire My Ship which sometimes saild in draine of hope aright On Rockes full colde is rent in blacke and stormie night And I forsaken Soule a lyfelesse lumpe of Lead Twixt wind and waue am cast whereas no strength can stand in stead My Uentring was my Wracke my high Desire my Fall Which made the Naufrage of my Hurt my Hope my Hap and all Alace alace that I impossiblie did preasse Aboue my Fortunes for to flie so farre to my disgrace Disgrac'd with Losse with Shame with Wracke and endlesse Wrong These are the dolefull Ditties now and subjects of my Song Yet dare I not alace though I haue cause complaine Which makes me sigh and sob and thus for loue am slaine But since it is my weird to fall to waile to weepe Then by my losse let others learne a lower course to keepe Thus endeth the Heremite his Complaint And when I saw that his Song received a full ende I showde my selfe shortlie and kindlie did kythe And when that sore sicke man his true Bearer kende And saw the Face of his Friend God knowes he was blythe Then showde I the blacke Bill subscryv'd with his Name Well written with the hand of his owne deare Dame And then with a glad â—heare When Hope had ceassed Feare Hee read that I might heare The Will of the same Her Answere to the Heremite THy loving Lines I rashlie did receiue Wherein thy Trueth thy State thy Wracke I see But at mine handes no succour shalt thou haue Though Friende to mee I shall bee Foe to thee And since thy death doeth on my doome depende Liue loath'd or die disgrac'd and so I ende Thus shee shortly concludes And when hee read these bad and noisome Newes Which did refresh his Woes his Hurtes and Harmes Whiles red whiles pale hee chaunged manie hewes And fell downe in dead-thraw betwixt my weake Armes And when with my salt Teares I bath'd his pale Face His Sprites and his Breath came to their owne place Hee cryde then O Death stay Thy date for this halfe day That I in writ may bewray My high great Disgrace The Heremite his Testament BUt now and not till now my Swan-lyke Song I sing And with each word my dying Eyes the bloodie Teares foorth bring Not that I loathe alace or shrinke for to bee slaine For what can be so swéet as death which puts an end to pain My death shall bee the Cause thy Honour and Renowne Shal lose the conquerd Diademe of Fames immortal Crown Yet since it is thy Doome that in disgrace I die Or loathed liue the choise is hard whereas no mids may bee And yet of Evils twane the best must aye bee tane So that I rather choose to die than liue in endlesse paine Long haue I lookt for joy whence floods of sorrow spring The ende whereof alace must bee my latest Will to sing My Tones are carefull Cryes my Words are Plaints alace Sad Sorrow must the Singer bee since Pittie hath no place My Paines are like a Point amidst a Circle set Still in such nearnesse to my selfe that no reliefe can get How can I hope for helpe since Heavens doe mee despise And all the gods aboue are dead'd with my Complaintes and Cryes Earths burden am I thus whose sighes infect the Aire With poisned breath procéeding from an heart consum'd with Care For loe the faithlesse Fates vnto this state mee calles By which the statelie Starres themselues misfortune tholes What resteth then but Death since Death must be the last To put a period to my paine for pleasures hope is past Yet A attest the gods since first our loue began I haue beene the lielest aye and most affected man I loded thee alace thy Soliphermis sworne O Poliphila false my lawtie is forlorne My loue woe 's mee therefore still thy disdaine hath beene The most Extreams that ever were or shall againe bee séene Thou first betrayde mine Heart then falsifide thy Faith And where thou promisde Lyfe by Loue thou hast decreede my Death When that thy Cruelties I call before and to The Eyes of my Remembrance I doubt what I shall doe Whiles doe I wish to liue
yet by East Espies no Calmes but Mercie-wanting Stormes Pretending Death in blacke and vglie Formes I grouelinges on the Ocean of my pride Did misregard each true and loving Sute So mante sude for favour on each side Which made my Seede to yeelde much barren Fruite Though I bewaile as nowe it bringes no buite Sighes Teares and Uowes and all are waird in vaine Since nothing can redéeme thy life againe Aye mee alace Alace and waile-away Deare Heert poore Heart what restes for thy behoue Since I procur'd thy death by my delay And did mistrust my true and constant Loue Now shall my death thy present death approue Though whilst thou liv'd to loue thee I was loath Yet I am thine beyonde the date of death Then let mee die and bid Delight adue Since my delight is with thee dead and gone The comming Age shall say thy Thisv◠true Was constant still and lov'd but thee alone Wee both shall lye vnder one Marble stone One Graue in ende shall ende our fatall griefe Which yeeldes mee nowe in point of death reliefe Since yesterday may not bee brought againe And Wronges may bee repented not recall'd I will no more in veigh on Death in vaine But make all Womens cowrage to bee bolde And in the Tymes to come it shall bee tolde Though thou till death didst serue and honour mee I after death haue sought and followde thee And Pilgrim◠nowe I praye and I protest Before I ende this last exequall Act Let mee bee bolde to make this small Request That for thy vmwhile Friend◠some paines thou take First In this place a private Graue gar make And let vs lye interd conjunctlie there Where nought but Fawnes and Satyres make repare Next When thou comst into my natiue Land Wherein my Loue and louelesse I was borne If anie of our Tragicke death demand With Pittie speake I praye and not with Scorne This Practicks rars which seldome was beforne Which when my deare and loving Friendes shall heare My Tragicke ends will cost them manie a Teare Thus endeth her Complaynt And so when that rare Pearle departed out of paine Upon the colde dead Corpse of her leile Loue Unto my else hurt Heart did heape Harmes againe And layde new weight on my brast Breast aboue To see him and her gaspe still no wrisht my care I wist not whom to helpe him or her there While I stoode in this doubt The Heremite lookt out And gaue a faint shout Twixt hope and despare This is the Worldes most wondrous worthie Might Most matchlesse of all that may on molde moue Halowed bee the Heavens that showde mee this sight And lent mee this light to looke on my leile loue Now am I glad and vngriev'd to Graue though I goe Thy travell and toyle doeth reward well my woe For wilt thou belieue mee My Maker mischieue mee If thou canst agrieue mee I still loue thee so I come quod the Cleare then to cure all thy care Though the Faites had forsworne to fang thee my Feire Bee biythe then my deare heart and mourns thou no maire For Peace saith the Proverbe puts end to all weire Goe leaue then thy Hermitage and thy cold Caue Where Wolfe Lyon wilde Beare thy blood still doe craue And with the good God's grace Thou shalt in a short space For all thy losse stnde release And first Health receiue Then franklie the Frieke fuire with her helpe and mine And to her Palfray hee past although with great paine And tooke on that swéet Sainct that méeke Iem divine That miracle which gods made as next vnto naine Then blythlie the Bairue blent and hyde hastie Hame Throgh shéene Shawes donke Dailes with his deare Dame And so with Adew dry Through the Wood could they hye As wee twind they and I I woke of my Dreame Heere endeth the fatalitie of the loyall Lover Soliphereus and of his sweete Ladie Polyphila The Poëme AS perfect Poets eye-tymes haue tane paine And search'd the Secrets of each high Engyne By base and lowlie Subjects to exclaime High Mysteries both morall and divine Even so into this worthlesse Worke of mine Which at Friends bidding boldlie I set foorth Some things may séeme obscure though little worth For as the Heremite leaues his dearest Dame And takes delight in colde Desart to dwell Syn◠of his Lot and of him selfe thinkes shame And still despaires and still doeth loathe him sell So wretched man exchanging Heaven with Hell Forgetting GOD in Darknesse doeth remaine And still despaires to get Reliefs againe And as the painfull Pilgryme now and than With Arguments and pithie reasons strong Would faine reduce the Heremite if hée can And make him to beholde his woefull wrong And as the Woods and savage Beastes among So with him bydes and recomforts his Care Syne holds him vp from dying in Despare And as in ende hée mooues him for to wryte Syne showes his Sutes vnto his Mistres Eyes Wherein yée sée shée tooke no small delyte Because in him some signe of Trueth shée stes Shée cures his Cares and all his sicke Disease Yea heales his hurt and heartlie by the hand Shée home-ward leades him to her natiue Land So sinfull man first by the helpe of Faith Despiseth Sinne repents and sore doeth pray That GOD in Mercie would avert His wrath And make His bred displeasure to decay And when the sicke converted would away From worldlie ease with haste hee maketh speede Then comes the LORD to helpe His owne at neede Hee cures our cares Hee helpes vs to bee haile Hee makes our sorie Soules for to rejoyce If wee in Him confyde Hee will not faile To free vs from the force of all our Foes And at the last with great disgrace of those That loving LORD shall take vs by the Hand And with Him leads vs to the HOME LAND FINIS Orpheus Fiddle * or without * For bout vnderstand without
THE PILGRIME AND HEREMITE In forme of a Dialogue By Master Alexander Craig Imprinted in ABERDENE By EDWARD RABAN for David Melvill 1631. TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE WYSE AND VERtuouslie disposed Gentleman WILLIAM FORBES of TOLQVHON RIGHT HONOVRABLE HAving collected the dispersed and long neglected Papers of this subsequent Poësie the Posthumes of a worthie Penne for preserving them from perishing for the Perfections of the Departed maker of immortall memorie who was one of the Faythfull affectionate and re-affected Favourers of the honourable House of BAMFE wherevnto Your selfe and Yours by a faythfull Affection and affectionate Affinitie are vnseparably tied And also Sir for the singular and ever bound duetie wherevnto by many Obliedgements and vnspeakable Respects I ever acknowledge my selfe to be vnterminably tied to loue serue and honour You and Yours and to doe all that my possibilitie can performe to the eternitie of Your Name House and Honour Herefore Sir I haue taken the boldnes after the Author's expiring to publish and present his Papers to Your Honours Hands to passe vnder the Patrocinie and Protection of Your honourable Name Receiue therefore Sir this fatherles Orphane vnder the Shield and Shadow of Your powerfull protection courteous acceptation and as hee presenteth to Your view a wandring Pilgrime and a retired Heremite both Despisers of the fleeting Pleasures and flitting Ritches of this wretched World whervpon most wretchedly so many doe doate So Sir let the same call vs to mynd what we are here and what we should ayme to bee heereafter that as wee are Pilgrimes on earth wee may bee Citizens in Heaven this being our way but Aboue our natiue Countrey here our travell there our rest heere our race there our prize heere our fight there our triumph here our seed-time there our harvest and as wandring Pilgrimis here our Innes only from whence we must remoue but there our home and mansion place wherein we must remayne In this estate then Sir let worldly things be but our Viaticum which we should vse as if we vsed them not and let vs neyther be cloyed with their loue nor clogged with their cares but seeke those things that are aboue to temper the edge of our eager distractions about many thinges with Martha let vs with Marie consider that one thing which is necessarie and requite in some measure that loue which CHRIST IESVS hath carried and kythed towards vs not as this poore Heremite was with disdayne of her whom hee affected but with mutuall tender affection and a Christian care to keepe His Commandements whereby we shall gayne to our selues more than the greatest Conquerours or busiest Worldlings could ever acquire even a glorious Kingdome and a Crowne incorruptible To the advancement whereof Sir both of you and yours after manie and happie dayes heere as my earnest Petition to GOD shall bee so in all other thinges I haue vowed to remayne Your Honours in all serviceable and obsequious duetie ROBERT SKENE THE PILGRIME AND HEREMITE In forme of a Dialogue WHen pale Ladie LVNA with her lent light Through the dawning of the Day was driven to depaâ—â— And the cleare christall Sky vanished the Night And the red morning rose from the right airt Long ere the fond Childe with Whip in his hand From his slight sleepe awoke to lighten the Land Twixt the Night and the Day In my sleepe as I lay Amidst my Dreame this fray And fairlie I fand Apparelled as a Pilgryme with Staffe in mine hand Foorth the day as I went vndriven bout a guyde Mee thought in a laigh Lay a cleare Streame a Strand A broade Bush of Birke trees by a Brooke syde And hoping some Heremite made there repare As fast as my feete might forward I fare Through a Wood as I sought To a Bush was I brought Which Nature her selfe wrought Withoutten airts lare Through the Wood as I went halfe will of waine A Cell to my sharpe slght can shortlie appeare A quyet and a colde Caue a Cabine of stone I drew me darne to the doore some din to heare And as I lent to my Lug this well I heard How long shall I lonthed liue I loue bout reward And when I knew by the din Some wight was therein To waxe bolde I begin And no perill spar'd As I went through the floore of that colde Caue I well espyed in the barke where the noyse sounded An hoarse hoarie Heremite grieved and graue Whose bâ—yling Breast naught but blacke baâ—le abounded Whose colour countenance and pale deadlie hew His whole hidden Harmes there and griefes foorth shew Whose tumbling teares bout cease Lyke floods flowed over his face With manie long lowde alace And sad sighes anew Yet stoutlie hee start by and stared in my face And craved how I there came or who was my guyde By Fortune quod I thus fell the case Through the wild way as I went I wandered asyde And by a private plaine path I came to this Wood Wherein I wist well some Heremite was hid But since I am heere brought If that I offended ought By the Blood that mee bought I 'll obey as yee bid A Pilgryme quod hee you seeme by your weede And a strayed stranger if I right weine But since you are heere come so GOD mot mée spéede Thou art welcome to such as you haue héere seene But yet of my treatment I trow yee shall tyre For neyther haue I Meate Drinke good Bed nor Fyre On raw Rootes is my Food I drinke of the fresh Flood On Fog and greene Grasse good All night lyes my lyre Then helde I the Heremite with faire wordes anew And for his franke offring great thankes I him gaue And when I well tryde that his tale was all trew The cause of his comming there shortlie I craue The cause of my comming heere Pilgryme quod hee And with that the salt teares fell in his eye Alace it s for the loue of ane For whose sake thus I am slaine A Martyr héere I remaine By fatall decrée In faith friend quod I then I saw by thy song When at the colde Caue doore darned I stood Some Sainct of the Shée sexe had wrought thee all this wrong And thou hadst long lived in loue and yet vnlov'd And of the long letter this last line I heard How long shall I lothed liue I loue bout Reward Whereby I well knew That thy Dame was vntrue Thy pale and wan how Foorth shew thou wasst snat'd Alace quod the Heremite I lived once to loue But now drowned in Despare I see my death diest Though both Will and Wit would I may not remoue I lye in the links of Loue fettered so fast And all my Care-séeming-Swéets are so mixt with Sowrs That each moment almost appeareth ten hours Thus liue I héere alone In this colde Caue of stone As next neighbour vnto none But Trees Fowls and Flowrs And thus in my darke Den I mynde to remayne As bound Bead-man to Her that workes all my