on hie Did warily still watch which way she went And eke from far obseru'd with iealous eie VVhich way his course the wanton Bregog bent Him to deceiue for all his watchfull ward The wily louer did deuise this slight First into many parts his streame he shar'd That whilest the one was watcht the other might Passe vnespide to meete her by the way And then besides those little streames so broken He vnder ground so closely did conuay That of their passage doth appeare no token Till they into the Mullaes water slide So secretly did he his loue enioy Yet not so secret but it was descride And told her father by a shepheards boy Who wondrous wroth for that so foule despight In great auenge did roll downe from his hill Huge mightie stones the which encomber might His passage and his water-courses spill So of a Riuer which he was of old He none was made but scattred all to nought And lost emong those rocks into him rold Did lose his name so deare his loue he bought Which hauing said him Thestylis bespake Now by my life this was a mery lay Worthie of Colin selfe that did it make But read now eke of friendship I thee pray What dittie did that other shepheard sing For I do couet most the same to heare As men vse most to couet forreine thing That shall I eke quoth he to you declare His song was all a lamentable lay Of great vnkindnesse and of vsage hard Of Cynthia the Ladie of the sea Which from her presence faultlesse him debard And euer and anon with singulfs rife He cryed out to make his vndersong Ah my loues queene and goddesse of my life Who shall me pittie when thou doest me wrong Then gan a gentle bonylasse to speake That Marin hight Right well he sure did plaine That could great Cynthiaes sore displeasure breake And moue to take him to her grace againe But tell on further Colin as befell Twixt him and thee that thee did hence dissuade When thus our pipes we both had wearied well Quoth he and each an end of singing made He gan to cast great lyking to my lore And great dislyking to my lucklesse lot That banisht had my selfe like wight forlore Into that waste where I was quite forgot The which to leaue thenceforth he counseld mee Vnmeet for man in whom was ought regardfull And wend with him his Cynthia to see Whose grace was great bounty most rewardfull Besides her peerlesse skill in making well And all the ornaments of wondrous wit Such as all womankynd did far excell Such as the world admyr'd and praised it So what with hope of good and hate of ill He me perswaded forth with him to fare Nought tooke I with me but mine oaten quill Small needments else need shepheard to prepare So to the sea we came the sea that is A world of waters heaped vpon hie Rolling like mountaines in wide wildernesse Horrible hideous roaring with hoarse crie And is the sea quoth Coridon so fearfull Fearful much more quoth he thē hart can fear Thousand wyld beasts with deep mouthes gaping direfull Therin stil wait poore passengers to teare Who life doth loath and longs death to behold Before he die alreadie dead with feare And yet would liue with heart halfe stonie cold Let him to sea and he shall see it there And yet as ghastly dreadfull as it seemes Bold men presuming life for gaine to sell Dare tempt that gulf and in those wandring stremes Seek waies vnknowne waies leading down to hell For as we stood there waiting on the strond Behold an huge great vessell to vs came Dauncing vpon the waters back to lond As if it scornd the daunger of the same Yet was it but a wooden frame and fraile Glewed togither with some subtile matter Yet had it armes and wings and head and taile And life to moue it selfe vpon the water Strange thing how bold swift the monster was That neither car'd for wynd nor haile nor raine Nor swelling waues but thorough them did passe So proudly that she made them roare againe The same aboord vs gently did receaue And without harme vs farre away did beare So farre that land our mother vs did leaue And nought but sea and heauen to vs appeare Then hartlesse quite and full of inward feare That shepheard I besought to me to tell Vnder what skie or in what world we were In which I saw no liuing people dwell Who me recomforting all that he might Told me that that same was the Regiment Of a great shepheardesse that Cynthia hight His liege his Ladie and his lifes Regent If then quoth I a shepheardesse she bee Where be the flockes and heards which she doth keep And where may I the hills and pastures see On which she vseth for to feed her sheepe These be the hills quoth he the surges hie On which faire Cynthia her heards doth feed Her heards be thousand fishes with their frie Which in the bosome of the billowes breed Of them the shepheard which hath charge in chief Is Triton blowing loud his wreathed horne At sound whereof they all for their relief Wend too and fro at euening and at morne And Proteus eke with him does driue his heard Of stinking Seales and Porcpisces together With hoary head and deawy dropping beard Compelling them which way he list and whether And I among the rest of many least Haue in the Ocean charge to me assignd Where I will liue or die at her beheast And serue and honour her with faithfull mind Besides an hundred Nymphs all heauenly borne And of immortall race doo still attend To wash faire Cynthiaes sheep whē they be shorne And fold them vp when they haue made an end Those be the shepheards which my Cynthia serue At sea beside a thousand moe at land For land and sea my Cynthia doth deserue To haue in her commandement at hand Thereat I wondred much till wondring more And more at length we land far off descryde Which sight much gladed me for much afore I feard least land we neuer should haue eyde Thereto our ship her course directly bent As if the way she perfectly had knowne We Lunday passe by that same name is ment An Island which the first to west was showne From thence another world of land we kend Floting amid the sea in ieopardie And round about with mightie white rocks hemd Against the seas encroching crueltie Those same the shepheard told me were the fields In which dame Cynthia her landheards fed Faire goodly fields then which Armulla yields None fairer nor more fruitfull to be red The first to which we nigh approched was An high headland thrust far into the sea Like to an horne whereof the name it has Yet seemed to be a goodly pleasant lea There did a loftie mount at first vs greet Which did a stately heape of stones vpreare That seemd amid the surges for to fleet Much greater then that frame which vs
seemes to say vnto the sading flowres Along his bankes vnto the bared trees Phillisides is dead Vp iolly swaine Thou that with skill canst tune a dolefull lay Help him to mourn My hart with grief doth freese Hoarse is my voice with crying else a part Sure would I beare though rude But as I may With sobs and sighes I second will thy song And so expresse the sorrowes of my hart Colin Ah Lycon Lycon what need skill to teach A grieued mynd powre forth his plaints how long Hath the pore Turtle gon to school weenest thou To learne to mourne her lost make No no each Creature by nature can tell how to waile Seest not these flocks how sad they wander now Seemeth their leaders bell their bleating tunes In dolefull sound Like him not one doth faile With hanging head to shew a heauie cheare What bird I pray thee hast thou seen that prunes Himselfe of late did any cheerfull note Come to thine eares or gladsome sight appeare Vnto thine eies since that same fatall howre Hath not the aire put on his mourning coat And testfied his grief with flowing teares Sith then it seemeth each thing to his powre Doth vs inuite to make a sad consort Come let vs ioyne our mournfull song with theirs Griefe will endite and sorrow will enforce Thy voice and Eccho will our words report Lyc. Though my rude rymes ill with thy verses frame That others farre excell yet will I force My selfe to answere thee the best I can And honor my base words with his high name But if my plaints annoy thee where thou sit In secret shade or cave vouchsafe O Pan To pardon me and here this hard constraint With patience while I sing and pittie it And eke ye rurall Muses that do dwell In these wilde woods If euer piteous plaint We did endite or taught a wofull minde VVith words of pure affect his griefe to tell Instruct me now Now Colin then goe on And I will follow thee though farre behinde Colin Phillisides is dead O harmfull death O deadly harme Vnhappie Albion VVhen shalt thou see emong thy shepheards all Any so sage so perfect VVhom vneath Enuie could touch for vertuous life and skill Curteous valiant and liberall Behold the sacred Pales where with haire Vntrust she sitts in shade of yonder hill And her faire face bent sadly downe doth send A floud of teares to bathe the earth and there Doth call the heau'ns despightfull enuious Cruell his fate that made so short an end Of that same life well worthie to haue bene Prolongd with many yeares happie and famous The Nymphs and Oreades her round about Do sit lamenting on the grassie grene And with shrill cries beating their whitest brests Accuse the direfull dart that death sent out To giue the fatall stroke The starres they blame That deafe or carelesse seeme at their request The pleasant shade of stately groues they shun They leaue their cristall springs where they wont frame Sweet bowres of Myrtel twigs and Lawrel faire To sport themselues free from the scorching Sun And now the hollow caues where horror darke Doth dwell whence banisht is the gladsome aire They seeke and there in mourning spend their time With wailfull tunes whiles wolues do howle and barke And seem to beare a bourdon to their plaint Lyc. Phillisides is dead O dolefull ryme Why should my toong expresse thee who is left Now to vphold thy hopes when they do faint Lycon vnfortunate What spitefull fate What lucklesse destinie hath thee bereft Of thy chief comfort of thy onely stay Where is become thy wonted happie state Alas wherein through many a hill and dale Through pleasant woods and many an vnknowne way Along the bankes of many siluer streames Thou with him yodest and with him didst scale The craggie rocks of th'Alpes and Appenine Still with the Muses sporting while those beames Of vertue kindled in his noble brest Which after did so gloriously forth shine But woe is me they now yquenched are All suddeinly and death hath them opprest Loe father Neptune with sad countenance How he sitts mourning on the strond now bare Yonder where th' Ocean with his rolling waues The white feete washeth wailing this mischance Of Douer cliffes His sacred skirt about The sea-gods all are set from their moist caues All for his comfort gathered there they be The Thamis rich the Humber rough and stout The fruitfull Seuerne with the rest are come To helpe their Lord to mourne and eke to see The dolefull sight and sad pomp funerall Of the dead corps passing through his kingdome And all their heads with Cypres gyrlonds crown'd With wofull shrikes salute him great and small Eke wailfull Eccho forgetting her deare Narcissus their last accents doth resownd Col. Phillisides is dead O lucklesse age O widow world O brookes and fountains cleere O hills O dales O woods that oft haue rong With his sweet caroling which could asswage The fiercest wrath of Tygre or of Beare Ye Siluans Fawnes and Satyres that emong These thickets oft haue daunst after his pipe Ye Nymphs and Nayades with golden heare That oft haue left your purest cristall springs To harken to his layes that coulden wipe Away all griefe and sorrow from your harts Alas who now is left that like him sings When shall you heare againe like harmonie So sweet a sownd who to you now imparts Loe where engraued by his hand yet liues The name of Stella in yonder bay tree Happie name happie tree faire may you grow And spred your sacred branch which honor giues To famous Emperours and Poets crowne Vnhappie flock that wander scattred now What maruell if through grief ye woxen leane Forsake your food and hang your heads adowne For such a shepheard neuer shall you guide whose parting hath of weale bereft you cleane Lyc. Phillisides is dead O happie sprite That now in heau'n with blessed soules doest bide Looke down a while from where thou sitst aboue And see how busie shepheards be to endite Sad songs of grief their sorrowes to declare And gratefull memory of their kynd loue Behold my selfe with Colin gentle swaine Whose lerned Muse thou cherisht most whyleare Where we thy name recording seeke to ease The inward torment and tormenting paine That thy departure to vs both hath bred Ne can each others sorrow yet appease Behold the fountains now left desolate And with red grasse with cypres boughes be-spred Behold these floures which on thy graue we strew Which faded shew the giuers faded state Though eke they shew their feruēt zeale pure VVhos 's onely comfort on thy welfare grew Whose praiers importune shall the heau's for ay That to thy ashes rest they may assure That learnedst shepheards honor may thy name With yeerly praises and the Nymphs alway Thy tomb may deck with fresh sweetest flowres And that for euer may endure thy fame Colin The Sun lo hastned hath his face to steep In western waues and th' aire with stormy
notes annext a phill The Turtle doue with tunes of ruthe Shewd feeling passion of his death Me thought she said I tell thee truthe Was neuer he that drew in breath Vnto his loue more trustie found Than he for whom our griefs abound The swan that was in presence heere Began his funerall dirge to sing Good things quoth he may scarce appeere But passe away with speedie wing This mortall life as death is tride And death giues life and so he di'de The generall sorrow that was made Among the creatures of kinde Fired the Phoenix where she laide Her ashes flying with the winde So as I might with reason see That such a Phoenix nere should bee Haply the cinders driuen about May breede an offspring neere that kinde But hardly a peere to that I doubt It cannot sinke into my minde Than vnder branches ere can bee Of worth and value as the tree The Egle markt with pearcing sight The mournfull habite of the place And parted thence with mounting flight To signifie to Ioue the the case What sorrow nature doth sustaine For Astrophill by enuie slaine And while I followed with mine eie The flight the Egle vpward tooke All things did vanish by and by And disappeared from my looke The trees beasts birds and groue was gone So was the friend that made this mone This spectacle had firmly wrought A deepe compassion in my spright My molting hart issude me thought In streames forth at mine eies aright And here my pen is forst to shrinke My teares discollors so mine inke An Epitaph vpon the right Honourable sir Phillip Sidney knight Lord gouernor of Flushing TO praise thy life or waile thy worthie death And want thy wit thy wit high pure diuine Is far beyond the powre of mortall line Nor any one hath worth that draweth breath Yet rich in zeale though poore in learnings lore And friendly care obscurde in secret brest And loue that enuie in thy life supprest Thy deere life done and death hath doubled more And I that in thy time and liuing state Did onely praise thy vertues in my thought As one that seeld the rising sun hath sought With words and teares now waile thy timelesse fate Drawne was thy race aright from princely line Nor lesse than such by gifts that nature gaue The common mother that all creatures haue Doth vertue shew and princely linage shine A king gaue thee thy name a kingly minde That God thee gaue who found it now too deere For this base world and hath resumde it neere To sit in skies and sort with powres diuine Kent thy birth daies and Oxford held thy youth The heauens made hast staid nor yeers nor time The fruits of age grew ripe in thy first prime Thy will thy words thy words the seales of truth Great gifts and wisedom rare imployd thee thence To treat frō kings with those more great thā kings Such hope men had to lay the highest things On thy wise youth to be transported hence Whence to sharpe wars sweet honor did thee call Thy countries loue religion and thy friends Of worthy men the marks the liues and ends And her defence for whom we labor all There didst thou vanquish shame and tedious age Griefe sorrow sicknes and base fortunes might Thy rising day saw neuer wofull night But past with praise from of this worldly stage Back to the campe by thee that day was brought First thine owne death and after thy long fame Teares to the soldiers the proud Castilians shame Vertue exprest and honor truly taught What hath he lost that such great grace hath woon Yoong yeeres for endles yeeres and hope vnsure Of fortunes gifts for wealth that still shall dure Oh happie race with so great praises run England doth hold thy lims that bred the same Flaunders thy valure where it last was tried The Campe thy sorrow where thy bodie died Thy friends thy want the world thy vertues fame Nations thy wit our mindes lay vp thy loue Letters thy learning thy losse yeeres long to come In worthy harts sorrow hath made thy tombe Thy soule and spright enrich the heauens aboue Thy liberall hart imbalmd in gratefull teares Yoong sighs sweet sighes sage sighes bewaile thy fall Enuie her sting and spite hath left her gall Malice her selfe a mourning garment weares That day their Hanniball died our Scipio fell Scipio Cicero and Petrarch of our time Whose vertues wounded by my worthlesse rime Let Angels speake and heauen thy praises tell Another of the same SIlence augmenteth grief writing encreaseth rage Stald are my thoughts which lou'd lost the wonder of our age Yet quickned now with fire though dead with frost ere now Enrag'de I write I know not what dead quick I know not how Hard harted mindes relent and rigors teares abound And enuie strangely rues his end in whom no fault she found Knowledge her light hath lost valor hath slaine her knight Sidney is dead dead is my friend dead is the worlds delight Place pensiue wailes his fall whose presence was her pride Time crieth out my ebbe is come his life was my spring tide Fame mournes in that she lost the ground of her reports Ech liuing wight laments his lacke and all in sundry sorts He was wo worth that word to ech well thinking minde A spotlesse friend a matchles man whose vertue euer shinde Declaring in his thoughts his life and that he writ Highest conceits longest foresights and deepest works of wit He onely like himselfe was second vnto none Whose deth though life we rue wrong al in vain do mone Their losse not him waile they that fill the world with cries Death slue not him but he made death his ladder to the skies Now sinke of sorrow I who liue the more the wrong Who wishing death whom deth denies whose thred is al to lōg Who tied to wretched life who lookes for no reliefe Must spend my euer dying daies in neuer ending griefe Harts ease and onely I like parables run on Whose equall length keep equall bredth and neuer meet in one Yet for not wronging him my thoughts my sorrowes cell Shall not run out though leake they will for liking him so well Farewell to you my hopes my wonted waking dreames Farewell sometimes enioyed ioy eclipsed are thy beames Farewell selfe pleasing thoughts which quietnes brings foorth And farewel friendships sacred league vniting minds of woorth And farewell mery hart the gift of guiltlesse mindes And all sports which for liues restore varietie assignes Let all that sweete is voyd in me no mirth may dwell Phillip the cause of all this woe my liues content farewell Now rime the sonne of rage which art no kin to skill And endles griefe which deads my life yet knowes not how to kill Go seekes that haples tombe which if ye hap to finde Salute the stones that keep the lims that held so good a minde FINIS LONDON Printed by T. C. for William Ponsonbie 1595.