fruit as any tree that springs Beleeue me Maiden yow no chastitie For maidens but imperfect creatures be Alas poore Boy quoth Marine haue the Fates Exempted no degrees are no estates Frâ—e from Loues rage Be rul'd vnhappy Swaine Call backe thy spirits and recollect againe Thy vagrant wits I tell thee for a truth Loue is a Syren that doth shipwracke youth Be well aduis'd thou entertainst a guest That is the Harbinger of all vnrest VVhich like the Vipers young that licke the earth Eat out the breeders wombe to get a birth Faith quoth the Boy I know there cannot be Danger in louing or inioying thee For what cause were things made and called good But to be loued If you vnderstood The Birds that prattle here you would know then As birds wooe birds maids should be woo'd of men But I want power to wooe since what was mine Is fled and lye as vassals at your shrine And since what 's mine is yours let that same moue Although in me you see nought worthy Loue. Marine about to speake forth of a sling Fortune to all misfortunes plyes her wing More quicke and speedy came a sharpned flint VVhich in the faire boyes necke made such a dint That crimson bloud came streaming from the wound And he fell downe into a deadly swound The bloud ran all along where it did fall And could not finde a place of buriall But where it came it there congealed stood As if the Earth loath'd to drinke guiltlesse blood Gold-haird Apollo Muses sacred King VVhose praise in Delphos Ile doth euer ring Physickes first founder whose Arts excellence Extracted Natures chiefest quintessence Vnwilling that a thing of such a worth Should so be lost straight sent a Dragon forth To fetch this bloud and he perform'd the same And now Apothecaries giue it name From him that fetcht it Doctors know it good In Physicks vse and call it Dragons bloudâ— Some of the bloud by chance did down-ward fall And by a veine goâ— to a Minerall VVhence came a Red decayed Dames infuse it VVith Vâ—â—ise â—eruse and for painting vse it Marine astonisht most vnhappy Maid O'er-coâ—â— with feare and at the view afraid Fell downe into a tranâ—â— eyes lost their sight VVhich being open made all darknesse light Hâ—r bloud ran to her heart or life to fâ—ed Or lothing to behold so vile a deed And as when VVinter doth the Earth array In siluer-sâ—ite and wheâ— the night and day Arâ— in dissention Night locks vp the ground VVhich by the helpe of day is oft vnbound A shepherds boy with bow and shafts addrest Ranging the fields hauing once pierc'd the brest Of some poore fowle doth with the blow straight rush To â—atch the Bird lyes panting in the Bush So cusâ—â— this striker iâ— vp Marine tooke And hastned with her to a neare-hand Brooke Old Shepherds saine old shepherds sooth haue sainâ— Two Riuers tooke their issue from the Maine Boâ—h neere together and each bent his â—acâ— VVhich of them both should first behold the face Oâ—â—adiant Phoebus One of them in gliding Clime'd on a Veine where Nirâ—â— had abiding The other loathing that her purer Waue Should be defil'd with that the Niter gaue Fled fast away the other follow'd fast Till both beene â—n a Rocke ymeâ— at last As seemed best the Rocke did first deliuer Out of his hollow sides the purer Riuer As if it taught those men in honour clad To helpe the vertuous and suppresse the bad Which gotten loose did softly glide away As men from earth to earth from sea to sea So Riuers run and that from whence both came Takes what she gaue Waueâ— Earth but leaues a name As waters haue their course in their place Succeeding streames will out so is mans race The Name doth still suruiue and cannot die Vntill the Channels stop on Spring grow day As I haue seene vpon a Bridall day Full many Maidâ— clad in their best array In honour of the Bride come with their Flaskets Fill'd full with flowers others in wicker-baskets Bring from the Marish Rushes to o'er-spread The ground where on to Church the Louers tread Whilst that the quâ—intest youth of all the Plaine Vshers their way with many a piping straine So as in ioy at this faire Riuers birth Triton came vp a Channell with his mirth And call'd the neighb'ring Nymphs each in her turne To poure their pretty Riuilets from their Vrne To wait vpon this new-deliuered Spring Some running through the Meadowes with them bring Cowslâ—p and Mint and 't is anothers lot To light vpon some Gardeners curious knot Whence she vpon her brest loues sweet repose Doth bring the Queene of flowers the English Rose Some from the Fenne bring Reeds Wilde-tyme from Downs Some froÌ„ a Groue the Bay that Poets crowns Some from an aged Rocke the Mosse hath torne And leaues him naked vnto winters storme Another from her bankes in meere good will Brings nutriment for fish the Camomill Thus all bring somewhat and doe ouer-spread The way the Spring vnto the Sea doth tread This while the Floud which yet the Rocke vp pent And suffered not with iocund merriment To tread rounds in his Spring came rushing forth As angry that his waues he thought of worth Should not haue libertie nor helpe the pryme And is some ruder Swaine composing ryme Spends many a gray Goose-quill vnto the handle Buries within his socket many a Candle Blot Paper by the quire and dries vp Inke As Xerxes Armie did whole Riuers drinke Hoping thereby his name his worke should raise That it should liue vntill the last of dayes Which finished he boldly doth addresse Him and his workes to vnder-goe the Presse When loe O Fate his worke not seeming fit To walke in equipage with better wit Is kept from light there gnawne by Moathes and wormes At which he frets Right so this Riuer stormes But broken forth As Tauy creepes vpon The Westerne vales of fertile Albion Here dashes roughly on an aged Rocke That his entended passage doth vp locke There intricately mongst the Woods doth wander Losing himselfe in many a wry Meander Here amorously bent clips some faire Mead And then disperst in rils doth measures tread Vpon her bosome 'mongst her flowry ranks There in another place beares downe the banks Of some day labouring wretch here meets a rill And with their forces ioyn'd cuts out a Mill Into an Iland then in iocund guise Suruayes his conquest laâ—ds his enterprise Here digs a Caue at some high Mountaines foot There vndermines an Oake teares vp his rooâ— Thence rushing to some Country-farme at hand Breaks o'er the Yeomans mounds sweepes from his lanâ— His Haruest hope of Wheat of Rye or Pease And makes that channell which was Shepherds least Here as our wicked age doth â—acriledge Helpes downe an Abbey then a naturall bridge By creeping vnder ground he frameth out As who should say he either went about To right the wrong he did or hid his face For hauing
thus tride they show to vs As Scâ—ua's Shield thy Selfe Emeritus W. HERBERT To my Browne yet brightest Swaine That woons or haunts or Hill or Plaine Pocta nascitur PIpe on sweet Swaine till Ioy in Blisse sleepe waking Hermes it seemes to thee of all the Swaines Hath lent his Pipe and Art For thou art making With sweet Notes noted Heau'n of Hils and Plaines Nay if as thou beginst thou dost hold on The totall Earth thine Arcadie will bee And Neptunes Monarchy thy Helicon So all in both will make a God of thee To whom they will exhibit Sacrifice Of richest Loue and Praise and enuious Swaines Charm'd with thine Accents shall thy Notes agnizâ— To reach aboue great Pans in all thy Straines Then ply this Veyne for it may well containe The richest Morals vnder poorest Shroud And sith in thee the Past'rall spirit doth raigne On such Wits-Treasures let it sit abrood Till it hath hatch'd such Numbers as may buy The rarest Fame that e're enriched Ayre Or fann'd the Way faire to AETERNITY To which vnsoil'd thy Glory shall repaire Where with the Gods that in faire Starres doe dwell When thou shalt blazing in a Starre abide Thou shalt be stil'd the Shepherds-Starre to tell Them many Mysteries and be their Guide Thus doe I spurre thee on with sharpest praise To vse thy Gifts of Nature and of Skill To double-gilde Apollos Browes and Bayes Yet make great NATVRE Arts true Sou'raigne still So â—ame shall euer say to thy renowne The Shepherds-Star or bright'st in Skie is Browne The true Louer of thine Art and Nature IOHN DAVIES of Heres AD ILLVSTRISSIMVM IVVENEM GVLIELMVM BROWNE Generosum in Operis sui Tomum secundum Carmen gratulatorium SCriâ—ta priùs vidi legi digitoque notaui Carminis istius singula verba meo Ex scriptis sparsim quaerebam carpere dicta Omnia sed par est aut ego nulla notem Filia si fuerit facies haec nactae sororis Laudator prolis solus Author eris Haec nondum visi qui flagrat amore libelli Praeâ—arrat scriptis omnia câ—rta tuis CAROLVâ— CROKE To my noble Friend the Author A Perfect Pen it selfe will euer praise So pipeâ— our Shepherd in his Roundelayes That who could iudge of Musickes sweetest straine Would sweare thy Muse were in a heauenly vaine A Worke of worth showes what the Worke-man is When as the fault that may be found amisse To such at least as haue iudicious eyes Nor in the Worke nor yet the Worke-man lyes Well worthy thou to weare the Lawrell wreath When froÌ„ thy brest these blessed thoughts do breath That in thy gracious Lines such grace doe giue It makes thee euerlastingly to liue Thy words well coucht thy sweet inuention show A perfect Poet that could place them so VNTON CROKE è Societate Inter. Templi To the Author THat priuiledge which others claime To flatter with their Friends With thee Friend shall not be mine ayme My Verse so much pretends The generall Vmpire of best wit In this will speake thy fame The Muses Minioâ—s as they sit Will still confirme the â—ame Let me sing him that merits best Let others scrape for fashion Their bâ—zâ—ing prate thy worth will iest And sleight such commendation ANTH. VINCENT To his worthy Friend Mr. W. BROWNE on his BOOKE THat Poets are not bred so but so borne Thy Muse it proues for in her ages morne She hath stroke enuy dumbe and charm'd the loue Of eu'ry Muse whose birth the Skies approue Goe on I know thou art too good to feare And may thy earely straines affect the eare Of that rare Lord who iudge and guerdon can The richer gifts which doe aduantage man â— IOHN MORGAN è Societate Inter. Templi To his Friend the Authour SOmetimes deare friend I make thy Booke my meat And then I iudge 't is Hony that I eat Sometimes my drinke it is and then I thinke It is Apollo's Nectar and no drinke And being hurt in minde I keepe in store Thy Booke a precious Balsame for the sore 'T is Hony Nectar Balsame most diuine Or one word for them all my Friend 't is thine THO. HEYGATE è Societate Inter. Templi To his Friend the Author IF antique Swaines wanne such immortall praise Though they alone with their melodious Layes Did onely charme the Woods and flowry Lawnes Satyres and Floods and Stones and hairy Fawnes How much braue Youth to thy due worth belongs That charm'st not theÌ„ but men with thy sweet Songs AVGVSTVS CAESAR è Societate Inter. Templi To the Authour T Is knowne I scorne to flatter or commend What merits not applause though in my Friend Which by my censure should now more appeare Were this not full as good as thou art deare But since thou couldst not erring make it so That I might my impartiall humour show By finding fault Nor one of thâ—se friends tell How to shew loue so ill that I as well Might paint out mine I feele an enuious touch And tell thee Swaine that at thy fame I grutch Wishing the Art that makes this Poeme shine And this thy Worke wert not thou wronged mine For when Detraction shal forgotten be This will continue to eternize thee And if hereafter any busie wit Should wronging thy conceit miscensure it Though seeming learn'd or wise here he shall see T is prais'd by wiser and more learn'd then hee G. WITHER To Mr. BROWNE WEre there a thought so strange as to deny That happy Bayes doe some mens Births adorne Thy worke alone might serue to iustifie That Poets are not made so but so borne How could thy plumes thus soone haue soar'd thus Hadst thou not Lawrell in thy Cradle worne Thy Birth o'er-tooke thy Youth And it doth make hie Thy youth herein thine elders ouer-take W. B. To my truly-belou'd Friend M. Browne on his Pastorals SOme men of Bookes or Friends not speaking right May hurt them more with praise then Foes with spight But I haue seene thy Worke and I know thee And if thou list thy selfe what thou canst bee For though but early in these paths thou tread I finde thee write most worthy to be read It must be thine owne iudgement yet that sends This thy worke forth that iudgement mine commends And where the most reade bookes on Authors fames Or like our Money-brokers take vp names On credit and are couzâ—n'd see that thou By offring not more sureties then enow Hold thine owne worth vnbroke which is so good Vpon th' Exchange of Letters as I wou'd More of our Writers would like thee not swell With the how much they set forth but th' how well BEN. IONSON BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS THE SECOND BOOKE THE FIRST SONG THE ARGVMENT Marina's freedome now I sing And of her new endangering Of Famines Caue and then th' abuse Tow'rds buried Colyn and his Muse. AS when a Mariner accounted lost Vpon the watry Desert long time tost In Summers parching hear in Winters cold In tempests great in
and liue here agen Not Hybla mountaine in the iocund prime Vpon her many bushes of sweet Thyme Shewes greater number of industrious Bees Then were the Birds that sung there on the trees Like the trim windings of a wanton Lake That doth his passage through a Meadow make Ran the delightfull Vally 'tweene two Hils From whose rare trees the precious Balme distils And hence Apollo had his simples good That cur'd the Gods hurt by the Earths ill brood A Crystall Riuer on her bosome slid And passing seem'd in sullen muttrings chid The artlesse Songsters that their Musicke still Should charme the sweet Dale and the wistfull Hill Not suffering her shrill waters as they run Tun'd with a whistling gale in Vnison To tell as high they priz'd the brodred Vale As the quicke Lennâ—s or sweet Nightingale Downe from a steepe Rocke came the water first Where lusty Satyres often quench'd their thirst And with no little speed seem'd all in haste Till iâ— the louely bottome had embrac'd Then as intranâ—'d to heare the sweet Birds sing In curled whirlpooles she her course doth bring As lâ—th to leaue the songs that lull'd the Dale Or waiting time when she and some soft gale Should speake what true delight they did possesse Among the rare flowres which the Vally dresse But since those quaint Musitians would not stay Nor suffer any to be heard but they Much like a little â—ad who gotten new To play his part amongst a skilfull crew Of choise Musitians on some softer string That is not heard the others fingering Drowning his Art the boy would gladly get Applause with others that are of his Set. And therefore strikes a stroke loud as the best And often desâ—ants when his fellowes rest That to be heard as 〈◊〉 â—ingers doe Spoiles his owne Musickâ— and his partners too So at the furtâ—er end the waters fell From off an 〈◊〉 bancke downe a lowly Dell As they had vow'd ere passing from that ground The Birds should be inforc'd â—o heare their sound No small delight the Shepherds tooke to see A coombe so dight in Floraâ—iuery â—iuery Where faire Feronia honour'd in the Woods And all the Deities that haunt the floods With powrefull Nature stroue to 〈◊〉 a plot Whoâ—â— like the sweet Arcadia yeelded nor Downe through the arched wood the Shepherds wend And seeke all places that might helpe their end When comming neere the bottome of the hill A deepe fetch'd sigh which seem'd of power to kill The brest that held it pierc'd the listning wood Whereat the eare still Swaines no longer stood Where they were looking on a tree whose 〈◊〉 A Loue knot held which two ioyn'd hearts the winde But searching round vpon an aged foot Thicke linde with moste which though to little boot Seem'd as a shelter it had lending beene Against cold Winters stormes and wreakfull teene Or clad the stocke in Summer with that hue His withered branches not a long time knew For in his hollow truncke and perish'd graine The Cuckow now had many a Winter laine And thriuing Pismires laid their egges in store The Dormouse slept there and a many more Here sate the Lad of whom I thinke of old Virgils prophetique spirit had foretold Who whilst Dame Nature for her cunnings sake A male or female doubted which to make And to adorne him more then all assaid This pritty youth was almost made a Maid Sadly he sate and as would griefe alone As if the Boy and Tree had beene but one Whilst downe neere boughs did drops of Amber creepâ— As if his sorrow made the trees to weepe If euer this were true in Ouids Verse That teares haue powre an Adamant to pierce Or moue things void of sense 't was here approu'd Thâ—ngs vegetatiue once his teares haue mou'd Surely the stones might well be drawne in pitty To burst that he should mone as for a Ditty To come and range themselues in order all And of their owne accord raise Thebes a wall Or else his teares as did the others song Might haue th'attractiue power to moue the throng Of all the Forrests Citizens and Woods With eu'ry Denizon of Ayre and Floods To sit by him and grieue to leaue their iarres Their strifes dissentions and all ciuill warres And though else disagreeing in this one Mourning for him should make an Vnion For whom the heauens would weare a sable sute If men beasts fishes birds trees stones were mute His eyes were fixed rather fixed Starres With whom it seem'd his teares had beene in warres The diff'rence this a hard thing to descry Whether the drops were clearest or his eye Teares fearing conquest to the eye might fall An inundation brought and drowned all Yet like true Vertue from the top of State Whose hopes vile Enuie hath seene ruinate Being lowly cast her goodnesse doth appeare Vncloath'd of greatnesse more apparant cleere So though deiected yet remain'd a feature Made sorrow sweet plac'd in so sweet a creature The test of misery the truest is In that none hath but what is surely his His armes a crosse his sheepe-hooke lay beside him Had Venus pass'd this way and chanc'd t' haue spide him With open brest locks on his shoulders spred She would haue sworne had she not seene him dead It was Adonis or if e're there was Held transmigration by Pithagoras Of soules that certaine then her lost-loues spirit A fairer body neuer could inherit His Pipe which often wont vpon the Plaine To sound the Dorian Phrygian Lydian straine Lay from his Hooke and Bagge cleane cast apart And almost broken like his Masters heart Yet till the two kinde Shepherds neere him stept I finde he nothing spake but that he wept Cease gentle Lad quoth Remond let no teare Cloud those sweet beauties in thy face appeare Why dost thou call-on that which comes alone And will not leaue thee till thy selfe art gone Thou maist haue griefe when other things are rest thee All else may slide away this still is left thee And when thou wantest other company Sorrow will euer be embracing thee But fairest Swaine what cause hast thou of woe Thou hast a well-fleec'd flocke seed to and fro His sheepe along the Vally that time fed Not â—arre from him although vnfollowed What doe thy Ewes abortiues bring or Lambs For want of milke seeke to their fellowes Dams No gryping Land-lord hath inclos'd thy walkes Nor â—oyling Plowman furrow'd them in balkes Ver hath adorn'd thy Pastures all in greene With Clouer-grasse as fresh as may be seene Cleare gliding Springs refresh thy Meadowes heat Meads promise to thy charge their winter-meat And yet thou grieu'st Oâ— had some Swains thy store Their Pipes should tell the Woods they ask'd no more Or haue the Parca with vnpartiall knife Lefâ— some friends body tenantlesse of life And thou bemoan'st that Fate in his youths morne Ore-cast with clouds his light but newly borne Count not how many yeares he is bereau'd But those which he possest and had receiu'd