And gates of hell, and fyrie furies force,

She hath the bonds broke of eternall night,
Her soule unbodied of the burdenous corse.

Why then weepes Lobbin so without remorse?
O Lobb! thy losse no longer lament;

Dido is dead, but into heaven hent.

O happie herse!

Cease now, my Muse, now cease thy sorrowes sourse, O joyful verse!

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165

Why waile we then? why wearie we the gods with As if some evill were to her betight?

She raignes a goddesse now emong the Saintes,

That whilome was the saynt of shepheards light,
And is enstalled nowe in heavens hight.

I see thee, blessed soule! I see

Walk in Elisian fieldes so free.

O happie herse!

Might I once come to thee, (O that I might !)
O joyfull verse!

[plaintes,

"Unwise and wretched men, to weete what's good or ill,

Wee deeme of Death as doome of ill desert;

But knewe wee, Fooles, what it us bringes untill,
Dye would we daylie, once it to expert!

No daunger there the shepheard can assert;
Fayre fieldes and pleasaunt layes there bene;
The fieldes aye fresh, the grasse ay greene.
O happie herse!

Make haste, yee shepheards, thether to revert.
O joyfull verse!

"Dido is gone afore; (whose turne shall be the next?)
There lives shee with the blessed Gods in blisse,
There drincks she Nectar with Ambrosia mixt,
And joyes enjoyes that mortall men doe misse.
The honor now of highest Gods she is,

That whilome was poore shepheards pride,
While here on earth shee did abide.

O happie herse!

Cease now, my song, my woe now wasted is;

O joyfull verse!"

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THE. Ay, franck shepheard, how bene thy verses meint With dolefull pleasaunce, so as I ne wotte

Whether rejoyce or weepe for great constraint!
Thine be the Cossette, well hast thou it gotte.
Up, Colin up, ynough thou morned hast;
Now ginnes to mizzle, hye we homeward fast.

COLINS EMBLEME.

La mort ny mord.

DECEMBER.

AEGLOGA DUODECIMA.

ARGUMENT.

THIS Aeglogue (even as the first began) is ended with a complaint of Colin to God Pan; wherein, as wearie of his former waies, hee proportioneth his life to the foure seasons of the yeare; comparing his youth to the Spring time, when hee was fresh and free from loves follie. His manhood to the Sommer, which, he saith, was consumed with great heate and excessive drouth, caused through a Comet or blazing Starre, by which hee meaneth love; which passion is commonly compared to such flames and immoderate heate. His ripest yeares he resembleth to an unseasonable harvest, wherein the fruits fall ere they be ripe. His latter age to Winters chill and frostie season, now drawing neere to his last ende.

THE gentle shepheard sat beside a springe,
All in the shadowe of a bushye Brere,

That Colin hight, which well coulde pype and singe,
For hee of Tityrus his songes did lere:

There, as he satte in secret shade alone,

Thus gan hee make of love his piteous mone.

"O soveraigne Pan! thou God of shepheardes all,
Which of our tender Lambkins takest keepe,

And, when our flockes into mischaunce mought fall,
Doest save from mischiefe the unwarie sheepe,

Als of their maisters hast no lesse regard

Then of the flocks, which thou doest watch and ward;

"I thee beseeche (so be thou deigne to hear Rude ditties, tunde to shepheardes Oaten reede, Or if I ever Sonet song so cleare,

As it with pleasaunce mought thy fancie feede,)

Hearken a while, from thy greene Cabinet,
The rurall song of carefull Colinet.

"Whilome in youth, when flowrd my joyfull spring,
Like swallow swift I wandred here and there;
For heate of heedlesse lust me so did sting,
That I oft doubted daunger had no feare:
I went the wastefull woodes and forrest wide,)
Withouten dread of Wolves to bene espide.

"I wont to raunge amid the mazie thicket,
And gather nuttes to make me Christmas-game,
And joyed oft to chace the trembling Pricket,
Or hunt the hartlesse Hare till she were tame.
What wreaked I of wintrie ages waste?-
Tho deemed I my spring would ever last.
"How often have I scaled the craggie Oke,
All to dislodge the Raven of her nest?
How have I wearied, with many a stroke,
The stately Walnut-tree, the while the rest
Under the tree fell all for nuttes at strife?
For like to me was libertie and life.

"And for I was in thilke same looser yeeres,
(Whether the Muse so wrought me from my byrth,
Or I too much beleev'd my shepheard peeres,)
Somedele ybent to song and musickes mirth,
A good old shepheard, Wrenock was his name,
Made me by arte more cunning in the same.

"Fro thence I durst in derring to compare
With shepheardes swayne whatever fed in field;
And, if that Hobbinoll right judgement bare,
To Pan his own selfe pype I need not yield:
For, if the flocking Nymphes did follow Pan,
The wiser Muses after Colin ran.

"But, ah! such pride at length was ill repayde,
The shepheardes God (perdie God was he none)

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My hurtlesse pleasaunce did me ill upbraide,
My freedome lorne, my life he left to mone.

Love they him called that gave me check-mate,
But better mought they have behote him Hate.

"Tho gan my lovely spring bid me farewell,
And sommer season sped him to display
(For Love then in the Lyons house did dwell,)
The raging fire that kindled at his ray.
A comet stird up that unkindly heate,
That reigned (as men said) in Venus seate.

"Forth was I ledde, not as I wont afore,
When choise I had to choose my wandring way,
But whether Luck and Loves unbridled lore
Would lead me forth on Fancies bitte to play;
The bush my bed, the bramble was my bowre,
The woodes can witnesse many a wofull stowre.

"Where I was wont to seeke the honie Bee,
Working her formall rowmes in Wexen frame,
The grieslie Todestoole growne there mought I see,
And loathed Paddockes lording on the same:

And, where the chaunting birds luld me asleepe,
The ghastly Owle her grievous Ynne doth keepe.

"Then as the spring gives place to elder Time,
And bringeth forth the fruite of sommers pride;
All so my age, now passed youthly prime,
To things of riper season selfe applied,

And learnd of lighter timber cotes to frame,
Such as might save my sheepe and me fro shame.

"To make fine cages for the Nightingale,
And Baskets of bulrushes, was my wont:
Who to entrap the fish in winding sale
Was better seene, or hurtfull beastes to hont?
I learned als the signs of heaven to ken,
How Phabe failes, where Venus sits, and when.

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