In this first Æglogue Colin cloute, a shepheardes boy, complaineth him of his unfortunate love, being but newly (as semeth) enamoured of a countrie lasse called Rosalinde : with which strong affection being very sore traveled, he compareth his carefull case to the sadde season of the yeare, to the frostie ground, to the frosen trees, and to his owne winterbeaten flocke. And lastlye, fynding himselfe robbed of all former pleasaunce and delights, hee breaketh his Pipe in peeces, and casteth him selfe to the ground. COLIN CLOUT. SHEPEHEARDS boye,(no better doe him call,) When Winters wastful spight was almost spent, All in a sunneshine day, as did befall, Led forth his flock, that had bene long ypent: All as the Sheepe, such was the shepeheards looke, And thus him playnde, the while his shepe there fedde. "Yee Gods of love, that pitie lovers paine, (If any gods the paine of lovers pitie,) Looke from above, where you in joyes remaine, And bowe your eares unto my dolefull dittie: And, Pan, thou shepheards God that once didst love, Pitie the paines that thou thy selfe didst prove. "Thou barrein ground, whome winters wrath hath wasted, Art made a myrrhour to behold my plight: Whilome thy fresh spring flowrd, and after hasted Thy sommer prowde, with Daffadillies dight; And now is come thy wynters stormy state, And yet, alas! but now my spring begonne, 20 30 "You naked trees, whose shady leaves are lost, "All so my lustfull leafe is drye and sere, "Thou feeble flocke, whose fleece is rough and rent, Thou weake, I wanne; thou leane, I quite forlorne: With mourning pyne I; you with pyning mourne. "A thousand sithes I curse that carefull hower Wherein I longd the neighbour towne to see, And eke tenne thousand sithes I blesse the stoure Wherein I sawe so fayre a sight as shee: 50 Yet all for naught: such sight hath bred my bane. Ah, God! that love should breede both joy and payne! "It is not Hobbinol wherefore I plaine, Albee my love he seeke with dayly suit; "I love thilke lasse, (alas! why doe I love?) 60 Shepheards devise she hateth as the snake, "Wherefore, my pype, albee rude Pan thou please, By that, the welked Phoebus gan availe FEBRUARIE. EGLOGA SECUNDA. ARGUMENT. THIS Æglogue is rather morall and generall, then bent to anie secrete or particular purpose. It speciallie conteyneth a discourse of old age, in the persone of Thenot, an olde Shepheard, who for his crookednesse and unlustinesse is scorned of Cuddie, an unhappy Heardmans boye. The matter very well accordeth with the season of the moneth, the yeare now drouping, and as it were drawing to his last age. For as in this time of yeare, so then in our bodies, there is a dry and withering cold, which congealeth the crudled blood, and frieseth the wetherbeaten flesh with stormes of Fortune, and hoare frosts of Care. To which purpose the olde man telleth a tale of the Oake and the Bryer, so lively, and so feelingly, as, if the thing were set forth in some Picture before our eyes, more plainly could not appeare. CUDDIE. THENOT. Cuddie. H for pittie! will rancke Winters rage All as I were through the body gryde: They wont in the wind wagge their wrigle tayles, The. Lewdly complainest thou, laesie ladde, 10 yeares, And then returne to his former fall? 20 30 But my flowring youth is foe to frost, My shippe unwont in stormes to be tost. The. The soveraigne of seas he blames in vaine, That, once sea-beate, will to sea againe : So loytring live you little heardgroomes, Keeping your beastes in the budded broomes; And, when the shining sunne laugheth once, You deemen the Spring is come attonce; Tho gynne you, fond flies! the cold to scorne, And, crowing in pypes made of greene corne, You thinken to be Lords of the yeare; But eft, when ye count you freed from feare, Comes the breme Winter with chamfred browes, Full of wrinckles and frostie furrowes, Drerily shooting his stormy darte, Which cruddles the bloud and pricks the harte: Your carefull heards with cold bene annoied: Cud. Ah, foolish old man! I scorne thy skill, 40 50 |