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No easy means according to his mind.

That never more they should endure the shew At last, they have all overthrown to ground

Of that sunshine, that makes them look askew : Quite topside turvey, and the Pagan bound

Nor aught in all that world of beauties rare Amongst the iron hooks and grapples keen,

(Save only Gloriana's heavenly hue ; Torn all to rags, and rent with many a wound, To which what can compare?) can it compare ; That no whole piece of him was to be seen,

The which, as cometh now by course, I will declare. But scattered all about, and strow'd upon the green.

One day as he did range the fields abroad, Like as the cursed son of Theseus,

While his fair Pastorella was elsewhere, That following his chace in dewy morn,

He chanc'd to come, far from all people's troad, To fly his stepdame's love outrageous,

Unto a place, whose pleasance did appear Of his own steeds was all to pieces torn,

To pass all others, on the earth which were ; And his fair limbs left in the woods forlorn ;

For, all that ever was by nature's skill That for his sake Diana did lament,

Devis’d to work delight, was gathered there, And all the woody nymphs did wail and mourn: And there by her were poured forth at fill, So was this Soldan rapt and all to rent,

As if this to adorn, she all the rest did pill. That of his shape appear'd no little moniment.

Unto this place when as the elfin knight Only his shield and armour, which there lay, Approach'd, him seemed that the merry sound Though nothing whole, but all so bruis'd and broken Of a shrill pipe he playing heard on hight, He up did take, and with him brought away, And many feet fast thumping th' hollow ground, That might remain for an eternal token

That through the woods their echo did rebound. To all, mongst whom this story should be spoken, He nigher drew, to weet what might it be; How worthily, by heaven's high decree,

There he a troop of ladies dancing found Justice that day of wrong herself had wroken ; Full merrily, and making gladful glee, That all men which that spectacle did see,

And in the midst a shepherd piping he did see.
By like example might for ever warned be.

He durst not enter into the open green
For dread of them unwares to be descried,

For breaking of their dance, if he were seen ;
SIR CALIDORE.

But in the covert of the wood did bide,

Beholding all, yet of them unespied.
Wuo now does follow the foul blatant beast, There he did see, that pleased much his sight,
While Calidore does follow that fair maid,

That even he himself his eyes envied,
Unmindful of his vow and high behest,

An hundred naked maidens lily white,
Which, by the fairy queen, was on him laid, All ranged in a ring, and dancing in delight.
That he should never leave, nor be delay'd
From chacing him, till he had it atchiev'd ?

All they without were ranged in a ring,
But now, entrapp'd of love, which him betray'd, And danced round; but in the midst of them
He mindeth more, how he may be relieved

Three other ladies did both dance and sing, With grace from her, whose love his heart hath sore That while the rest them round about did hem, engrieved ;

And like a garland did in compass stem :

And in the midst of those same three was placed That from henceforth he means no more to sue Another damsel, as a precious gem His former guest, so full of toil and pain;

Amidst a ring most richly well enchaced, Another guest, another game in view

That with her goodly presence all the rest much graced. He hath, the guerdon of his love to gain ; With whom he minds for ever to remain,

Look how the crown, which Ariadne wore And set his rest among the rustic sort,

Upon her ivory forehead that same day Rather than hunt still after shadows vain

That Theseus her unto his bridal bore Of courtly favour, fed with light report

(When the bold Centaurs made that bloody fray Of every blast, and sailing always in the port. With the fierce Lapithes which did them dismay)

Being now placed in the firmament, Nor certes might he greatly blamed be,

Through the bright heavens doth her beams display, From so high step, to stoop unto so low.

And is unto the stars an ornament, For, who had tasted once (as oft did he)

Which round about her move in order excellent : The happy peace, which there doth overflow, And prov'd the perfect pleasures which do grow Such was the beauty of this goodly band, Amongst poor hinds, in hills, in woods, in dales, Whose sundry parts were here too long to tell : Would never more delight in painted show

But she that in the midst of them did stand,
Of such false bliss, as there is set for stales,

Seem'd all the rest in beauty to excel,
T' entrap anwary fools in their eternal bales. Crown'd with a rosy garland, that right well

Did her beseem. And ever, as the crew
For, what hath all that goodly glorious gaze About her danc'd, sweet flowers, that far did smell,
Like to one sight, which Calidore did view ?

And fragrant odours they upon her threw; The glance whereof their dimmed eyes would daze, But most of all, those three did her with gifts endue.

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Those were the Graces, daughters of delight, They all are Graces which on her depend,
Handmaids of Venus, which are wont to haunt Besides a thousand more, which ready be
Upon this hill, and dance there day and night: Her to adorn, whenso she forth doth wend :
Those three to men all gifts of grace do grant,

But these three in the midst do chief on her attend.
And all, that Venus in herself doth vaunt,
Is borrowed of them. But that fair one,

“ They are the daughters of sky-ruling Jove, That in the midst was placed paravant,

By him begot of fair Eurynome, Was she to whom that shepherd pip'd alone,

The Ocean's daughter, in this pleasant grove, That made him pipe so merrily, as never none. As he this way coming from feastful glee

Of Thetis wedding with Eacidee, She was to weet that jolly shepherd's lass,

In summer's shade himself here rested weary. Which piped there unto that merry rout;

The first of them hight mild Euphrosyne ; That jolly shepherd, which there piped, was

Next fair Aglaia ; last Thalia merry, Poor Colin Clout (who knows not Colin Clout?) Sweet goddesses all three which me in mirth do He pip'd apace, while they him danc'd about.

cherry. Pipe, jolly shepherd, pipe thou now apace Unto thy love, that made thee low to lout;

“ These three on men all gracious gifts bestow, Thy love is present there with thee in place,

Which deck the body or adorn the mind, Thy love is there advanc'd to be another Grace. To make them lovely or well favoured show:

As comely carriage, entertainment kind, Much wonder'd Calidore at this strange sight, Sweet semblant, friendly offices that bind, Whose like before his eye had never seen:

And all the compliments of courtesy : And standing long astonished in spright,

They teach us, how to each degree and kind And rapt with pleasance, wist not what to ween; We should ourselves demean, to low, to high; Whether it were the train of beauty's queen, To friends, to foes: which skill men call civility. Or nymphs, or fairies, or enchanted show, With which his eyes might have deluded been. “ Therefore they always smoothly seem to smile, Therefore resolving, what it was, to know,

That we likewise should mild and gentle be; Out of the wood he rose, and toward them did go. And also naked are, that without guile

Or false dissemblance all them plain may sce, But soon as he appeared to their view,

Simple and true from covert malice free: They vanish'd all away out of his sight,

And eke themselves so in their dance they bore, And clean were gone, which way he never knew; That two of them still forward seem'd to be, All save the shepherd, who for fell despite

But one still towards shew'd herself afore; Of that displeasure, broke his bagpipe quite,

That good should from us go, then come in greater And made great moan for that unhappy turn.

store. But Calidore, though no less sorry wight, For that mishap, yet seeing him to mourn,

“Such were those goddesses which ye did see; Drew near, that he the truth of all by him might learn. But that fourth maid, which there amidst them traced,

Who can aread, what creature might she be,
And first him greeting, thus unto him spake; Whether a creature or a goddess graced
“ Hail, jolly shepherd ! which thy joyous days With heavenly gifts from heaven first enraced ?
Here leadest in this goodly merry-make,

But whatsoe'er she was, she worthy was
Frequented of these gentle nymphs always,

To be the fourth, with those three other placed : Which to thee flock, to hear thy lovely lays; Yet was she certes but a country lass, Tell me what might these dainty damsels be, Yet she all other country lasses far did pass. Which here with thee do make their pleasant plays ? Right happy thou, that mayst them freely see ; “ So far as doth the daughter of the day, But why, when I them saw, fled they away from me?" All other lesser lights in light excel,

So far doth she in beautiful array, “ Not I so happy," answered then that swain, Above all other lasses bear the bell: “ As thou unhappy, which them thence didst chace, Nor less in virtue that beseems her well, Whom by no means thou canst recall again.

Doth she exceed the rest of all her race;
For, being gone, none can them bring in place, For which the Graces that here wont to dwell,
But whom they of themselves list so to grace. Have for more honour brought her to this place,
“ Right sorry Í," said then Sir Calidore,

And graced her so much to be another Grace.
That my ill fortune did them hence displace.
But since things passed none may now restore, “ Another Grace she well deserves to be,
Tell me what were they all, whose lack thee grieves In whom so many graces gathered are,
So sore ?"

Excelling much the mean of her degree ;

Divine resemblance, beauty sovereign rare,
Then gan that shepherd thus for to dilate;

Firm chastity, that spite nor blemish dare ;
“ Then wot thou, shepherd, whatsoe'er thou be, All which she with such courtesy doth grace,
That all those ladies, which thou sawest late, That all her peers cannot with her compare,
Are Venus' damsels, all within her fee,

But quite are dimmed, when she is in place.
But differing in honour and degree ;

She made me often pipe, and now to pipe apace.

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“ Sun of the world, great glory of the sky,

But my flow'ring youth is foe to frost, That all the earth dost lighten with thy rays, My ship unwont in storms to be tost. Great Gloriana, greatest Majesty,

Thenot. The sovereign of seas he blames in vain, Pardon thy shepherd ʼmongst so many lays,

That once sea-beat will to sea again :
As he hath sung of thee in all his days,

So loytring live you little heard-grooms,
To make one minime of thy poor handmaid, Keeping your beasts in the budded brooms;
And underneath thy feet to place her praise ; And when the shining sun laugheth once,
That when thy glory shall be far display'd

You deemen the spring is come at once :
To future age, of her this mention may be made." Tho gin you, fond flies! the cold to scorn,

And, crowing in pipes made of green corn,
When thus that shepherd ended had his speech, You thinken to be lords of the year;
Said Calidore, “ Now sure it irketh me,

But eft when ye count you freed from fear,
That to thy bliss I made this luckless breach, Comes the breme winter with chamfred brows,
As now the author of thy bale to be,

Full of wrinkles and frosty furrows, Thus to bereave thy love's dear sight from thee: Drearily shooting his stormy dart, But, gentle shepherd, pardon thou my shame, Which cruddles the blood and pricks the heart: Who rashly sought that which I might not see.” Then is your careless courage accoyd, Thus did the courteous knight excuse his blame, Your careful herds with cold be annoyed : And to recomfort him all cornely means did frame. Then pay you the price of your surqucdry,

With weeping, and wailing, and misery. In such discourses they together spent

Cuddy. Ah, foolish old man! I scorn thy skill, Long time, as fit occasion forth them led;

That wouldst me my springing youth to spill;
With which the knight himself did much content, I deem thy brain emperish'd be
And with delight his greedy fancy fed,

Through rusty eld, that hath rotted thee;
Both of his words, which he with reason red; Or siker thy head very totty is,
And also of the place, whose pleasures rare

So on thy corb shoulder it leans amiss.
With such regard his senses ravished,

Now thyself hath lost both lop and top, That thence he had no will away to fare,

Als my budding branch thou wouldest crop; But wishod that with that shepherd he might dwelling But were thy years green, as now been minc, share.

To other delights they would incline:
Tho wouldest thou learn to carol of love,
And hery with hymns thy lass's glove;

Tho wouldest thou pipe of Phillis' praise,
FABLE OF THE OAK AND THE BRIAR. But Phillis is mine for many days:

I won her with a girdle of gelt, (FROM THE SHEPHERD'S CALENDAR.).

Emboss'd with bugle about the belt;
Cuddy. Ah, for pity! will rank winter's rage Such an one shepherds would make full fain,
These bitter blasts never 'gin t' assuage ?

Such an one would make thee young again.
The keen cold blows through my beaten hide,

Thenot. Thou art a fon of thy love to bost; All as I were through the body gride :

All that is lent to love will be lost. My ragged ronts all shiver and shake,

Cuddy. Seest how brag yond bullock bears, As done high towers in an earthquake:

So smirk, so smooth, his pricked ears?
They wont in the wind wag their wriggle tails His horns been as brade as rainbow bent,
Peark as a peacock; but now it avails.

His dewlap as lythe as lass of Kent ?
Thenot. Leudly complainest, thou lazy lad, See how he venteth into the wind,
Of winter's wrack for making thee sad ?

Weenest of love is not his mind ?
Must not the world wend in his common course, Seemeth thy flock thy counsel can,
From good to bad, and from bad to worse,

So lustless been they, so weak, so wan; From worse unto that is worst of all,

Clothed with cold, and hoary with frost, And then return to his former fall ?

Thy flock's father his courage hath lost., Who will not suffer the stormy time,

Thy ewes that wont to have blown bags, Where will he live till the lusty prime ?

Like wailful widows hanging their crags ; Self have I worn out thrice thirty years,

The rather lambs been starv'd with cold, Some in much joy, many in many tears,

All for their master is lustless and old. Yet never complained of cold nor heat,

Thenot. Cuddy, I wot thou kenst little good, Of summer's flame, nor of winter's threat,

So vainly to advance thy headless hood; Ne never was to Fortune foe-man,

For youth is a bubble blown up with breath, But gently took that ungently came;

Whose wit is weakness, whose wage is death ; And ever my flock was my chief care,

Whose way is wilderness, whose inn penaunce, Winter or summer they mought well fare.

And stoop gallant age, the host of grievaunce.
Cuddy. No marvel, Thenot, if thou can bear But shall I tell thee a tale of truth
Chearfully the winter's wrathful chear,

Which I cond of Tityrus in my youth,
For age and winter accord full nigh,

Keeping his sheep on the hills of Kent? This chill, that cold; this crooked, that wry;

Cuddy. To nought more, Thenot, my mind is bent And as the low'ring weather looks down,

Than to hear novels of his devise ; So seemest thou like Good Friday to frown;

They been so well thewed, and so wise,

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What ever that good old man bespake.

Ah, my Sovereign ! lord of creatures all, Thenot. Many meet tales of youth did he make, Thou placer of plants both humble and tall, And some of love, and some of chivalry,

Was not I planted of thine own hand, But none fitter than this to apply.

To be the primrose of all thy land, Now listen a while and hearken the end.

With flowring blossoms to furnish the prime, “ There grew an aged tree on the green,

And scarlet berries in sommer-time? A goodly Oak sometime had it been,

How falls it then that this faded Oak, With arms full strong and largely display'd, Whose body is sere, whose branches broke, But of their leaves they were disaray'd :

Whose naked arms stretch unto the fire, The body big and mightily pight,

Unto such tyranny doth aspire, Throughly rooted, and of wondrous height; Hindring with his shade my lovely light, Whilom had been the king of the field,

And robbing me of the sweet sun's sight? And mochel mast to the husband did yield,

So beat his old boughs my tender side, And with his nuts larded many swine,

That oft the bloud springeth from woundes wide ; But now the gray moss marted his rine,

Untimely my flowers forced to fall, His bared boughs were beaten with storms,

That been the honour of your coronal; His top was bald, and wasted with worms,

And oft he lets his canker-worms light His honour decay'd, his braunches sere.

Upon my branches, to work me more spight; Hard by his side grew a bragging Breere,

And of his hoary locks down doth cast, Which proudly thrust into th' element,

Wherewith my fresh flowrets been defast : And seemed to threat the firmament:

For this, and many more such outrage, It was embellisht with blossoms fair,

Craving your godlyhead to assuage And thereto aye wonted to repair

The rancorous rigour of his might; The shepherd's daughters to gather flowres,

Nought ask I, but onely to hold my right, To paint their garlands with his colowres,

Submitting me to your good sufferaunce, And in his small bushes used to shroud,

And praying to be guarded from grievaunce. The sweet nightingale singing so loud,

To this this Oak cast him to reply Which made this foolish Breere wex so bold, Well as he couth ; but his enemy That on a time he cast him to scold,

Had kindled such coles of displeasure, And sneb the good Oak, for he was old.

That the good man nould stay his leasure, Why stand's there (quoth he) thou brutish block ? But home him hasted with furious heat, Nor for fruit nor for shadow serves thy stock ; Encreasing his wrath with many a threat ; Seest how fresh my flowres been spread,

His harmful hatchet he hent in hand, Died in lily white and crimson red,

(Alas ! that it so ready should stand!) With leaves engrained in lusty green,

And to the field alone he speedeth, Colours meet to cloath a maiden queen ?

(Aye little help to harm there needeth) Thy waste bigness but cumbers the ground, Anger nould let him speak to the tree, And dirks the beauty of my blossoms round : Enaunter his rage mought cooled be, The mouldy moss, which thee accloyeth,

But to the root bent his sturdy stroak, My cinnamon smell too much annoyeth :

And made many wounds in the waste Oak. Wherefore soon I rede thee hence remove,

The axe's edge did oft turn again, Lest thou the price of my displeasure prove. As half unwilling to cut the grain, So spake this bold Breere with great disdain, Seemed the senseless iron did fear, Little him answer'd the Oak again,

Or to wrong holy eld did forbear; But yielded, with shame and grief adaw'd,

For it had been an antient tree, That of a weed he was over-craw'd.

Sacred with many a mystery, It chaunced after upon a day,

And often crost with the priests' crew, The husband-man's self to come that way,

And often hallowed with holy-water dew; Of custom to surview his ground,

But like fancies weren foolery, And his trees of state in compass round:

And broughten this Oak to this misery; Him when the spightful Breere had espyed,

For nought mought they quitten him from decay, Causeless complained, and loudly cryed

For fiercely the good man at him did lay. Unto his lord, stirring up stern strife :

The block oft groaned under his blow, O my liege Lord! the god of my life,

And sighed to see his near overthrow. Please you pond your suppliant's plaint,

In fine, the steel had pierced his pith, Caused of wrong and cruell constraint,

Tho down to the ground he fell forth with. Which I your poor vassal daily endure;

His wondrous weight made the ground to quake, And but your goodness the same recure,

Th' earth shrunk under him, and seem'd to shake: And like for desperate dole to die,

There lieth the Oak pitied of none. Through felonous force of mine enemy.

Now stands the Breere like a lord alone, Greatly aghast with this piteous plea,

Puff'd up with pride and vain pleasance ; Him rested the good man on the lea,

But all this glee had no continuance : And bad the Breere in his plaint proceed.

For eftsoons winter 'gan to approach, With painted words tho gan this proud weed The blustering Boreas did encroach, (As most usen ambitious folk)

And beat upon the solitary Breere, His colour'd crime with craft to cloke.

For now no succour was seen him ncere.

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Now 'gan he repent his pride too late,

For my fair love, of lillies and of roses, For naked left and disconsolate,

Bound true-love wise with a blue silk riband; The biting frost nipt his stalk dead,

And let them make great store of bridal posies, The watry wet weighed down his head,

And let them eke bring store of other flowers And heaped snow burdned him so sore,

To deck the bridal bowers; That now upright he can stand no more ;

And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread, And being down is trod in the durt

For fear the stones her tender foot should wrong, Of cattel, and brouzed, and sorely hurt.

Be strew'd with fragrant flowers all along, Such was th' end of this ambitious Breere,

And diapred like the discoloured meed:
For scorning eld-

Which done, do at her chamber-door await,
Cuddy. Now I pray thee shepherd, tell it not forth: For she will waken strait;
Here is a long tale and little worth.

The whiles do ye this song unto her sing,
So long have I listened to thy speech,

The woods shall to you answer, and your eccho ring. That graffed to the ground is my breech ; My heart-blood is well nigh frozen I feel,

“ Ye nymphs of Mulla, which with careful heed And my galage grown fast to my heel ;

The silver scaly trouts do tend full well, But little ease of thy leud tale I tasted ;

And greedy pikes which use therein to feed, Hie thee home, shepherd, the day is nigh wasted. (Those trouts and pikes all others do excel)

And ye likewise, which keep the rushie lake,

Where none do fishes take,
EPITHALAMION.

Bind up the locks the which hang scattered light,

And in his waters, which your mirror make, Ye learned Sisters! which have oftentimes

Behold your faces as the crystal bright, Been to me aiding, others to adorn,

That when you come whereas my love doth lie, Whom ye thought worthy of your graceful rimes,

No blemish she may spie. That ev'n the greatest did not greatly scorn

And eke, ye lightfoot Maids ! which keep the door, To hear their names sung in your simple layes, That on the hoary mountain use to towre, But joyed in their praise;

And the wild wolves which seek them to devour, And when ye list your own mishap to mourn, Which your steel darts do chace from coming near, Which death, or love, or fortune's wreck, did raise, Be also present here Your string could soon to sadder tenour turn, To help to deck her, and to help to sing, And teach the woods and waters to lament

That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring. Your doleful dreriment; Now lay those sorrowful complaints aside,

“ Wake now, my Love! awake, for it is time; And having all your heads with girlands crown'd, The rosie morn long since left Tithon's bed, Help me mine own love's praises to resound, And ready to her silver coach to clime, Ne let the same of any be envide :

And Phæbus 'gins to shew his glorious head. So Orpheus did for his own bride ;

Hark! how the chearful birds do chaunt their layes, So I unto my self alone will sing,

And carrol of Love's praise.
The woods shall to me answer, and my eccho ring. The merry lark her mattins sings aloft,

The thrush replies, the mevis descant plays,
Early before the world's light-giving lamp

The ouzel shrills, the ruddock warbles soft;
His golden beam upon the hills doth spred,

So goodly all agree, with sweet consent,
Having disperst the night's unchearful damp, To this day's merriment.
Do ye awake, and with fresh lustihed,

Ah! my dear Love! why do you sleep thus long, Go to the bowre of my beloved love,

When mceter were that ye should now awake, My truest turtle-dove,

T' await the coming of your joyous make,
Bid her awake, for Hymen is awake,

And hearken to the bird's love-learned song,
And long since ready forth his mask to move, The dewie leaves among ?
With his bright teade that flames with many a flake, For they of joy and pleasance to you sing,
And many a batchelor to wait on him,

That all the woods them answer, and their eccho ring.
In their fresh garments trim;
Bid her awake, therefore, and soon her dight, “ My love is now awake out of her dreams,
For loe, the wished day is come at last,

And her fair eyes, like stars that dimmed were That shall for all the pains and sorrows past

With darksome cloud, now shew their goodly beams, Pay to her usury of long delight;

More bright than Hesperus his head doth rere. And whilst she doth her dight,

Come now, ye Damsels! daughters of delight, Do ye to her of joy and solace sing,

Help quickly her to dight; That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring. But first come, ye fair Houres ! which were begot

In Jove's sweet paradise of day and night, Bring with you all the nymphs that you can hear Which do the seasons of the year allot, Both of the rivers and the forests green,

And all that ever in this world is fair And of the sea that neighbours to her near,

Do make and still repair : All with gay girlands goodly well beseen;

And ye three Handmaids of the Cyprian queen, And let them also with them bring in hand

The which do still adorn her beauty's pride, Another gay girland,

Help to adorn my beautifullest bride,

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