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ASTROPHE L.

A Paftorall Elegie vpon

the death of the moft Noble and valorous
Knight, Sir Philip Sidney.

Dedicated

To the most beautifull and vertuous Ladie, the Counteffe of Effex.

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Astrophel.

Hepheards that wont on pipes of oaten reed, | For he could pipe and daunce, and caroll sweet, Ofi And with your pileous layes haue learnd to breed Compassion in a countrey lasses hart. Hearken ye gentle shepheards to my song, And place my dolefull plaint your plaints emong. To you alone I sing this mournfull verse, The mournfulst verse that euer man heard tell: To you whose softened hearts it may empierse, With dolours dart for death of Astrophel.

To

you I sing and to none other wight,
For well I wot my rymes bene rudely dight.
Yet as they been, if any nycer wit
Shall hap to heare, or couet them to read:
Thinke he, that such are for such ones most fit,
Made not to please the liuing but the dead.
And if in him found pity euer place,
Let him be moov'd to pity such a case.

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Gentle Shepheard borne in Arcady,
Of gentlest race that euer shepheard bore:
About the grassie bancks of Hæmony,
Did keepe his sheep, his litle stock and store.
Full carefully he kept them day and night,
In fairest fields, and Astrophel he hight.
Young Astrophel the pride of shepheards praise,
Young Astrophel the rusticke lasses loue:
Far passing all the pastors of his daies,
In all that seemly shepheard might behoue. 10
In one thing onely fayling of the best,
That he was not so happie as the rest.
For from the time that first the Nymph his

mother

Him forth did bring, and taught her lambs to feed,

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A sclender swaine excelling far each other,
In comely shape, like her that did him breed,
He grew vp fast in goodnesse and in grace,
And doubly faire wox both in mynd and face.
Which daily more and more he did augment,
With gentle vsage and demeanure myld:
That all mens hearts with secret rauishment
He stole away, and weetingly beguyld.
Ne spight it selfe that all good things doth spill,
Found ought in him, that she could say was ill.
His sports were faire, his ioyance innocent,
Sweet without sowre, and honny without gall:
And he himselfe seemd made for meriment,
Merily masking both in bowre and hall.
There was no pleasure nor delightfull play,
When Astrophel so euer was away.

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As Somers larke that with her song doth greet
The dawning day forth comming from the East.
And layes of loue he also could compose.
Thrise happie she, whom he to praise did chose.
Full many Maydens often did him woo,
Them to vouchsafe emongst his rimes to name,
Or make for them as he was wont to doo,
For her that did his heart with loue inflame.
For which they promised to dight, for him, 41
Gay chapelets of flowers and gyrlonds trim.
And many a Nymph both of the wood and brooke,
Soone as his oaten pipe began to shrill :
Both christall wells and shadie groues forsooke,
To heare the charmes of his enchanting skill.
And brought him presents, flowers if it were
prime,

Or mellow fruit if it were haruest time.
But he for none of them did care a whit,
Yet wood Gods for them often sighed sore: 50
Ne for their gifts vnworthie of his wit,
Yet not vnworthie of the countries store.
For one alone he cared, for one he sight,

His lifes desire, and his deare loues delight.

Stella the faire, the fairest star in skie,
As faire as Venus or the fairest faire :
A fairer star saw neuer liuing eie,
Shothersharppointed beames through purest aire.
Her he did loue, her he alone did honor,
His thoughts, his rimes, his songs were all vpon

her.

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To her he vowd the seruice of his daies,
On her he spent the riches of his wit:
For her he made hymnes of immortall praise,
Of onely her he sung, he thought, he writ.
Her, and but her, of loue he worthie deemed,
For all the rest but litle he esteemed.
Ne her with ydle words alone he wowed,
And verses vaine (yet verses are not vaine)
But with braue deeds to her sole seruice vowed,
And bold atchieuements her did entertaine. 70
For both in deeds and words he nourtred was,
Both wise and hardie (too hardie alas).
In wrestling nimble, and in renning swift,
In shooting steddie, and in swimming strong:
Well made to strike, to throw, to leape to lift,
And all the sports that shepheards are emong.
In euery one he vanquisht euery one,
He vanquisht all, and vanquisht was of none.

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III

His care was all how he them all might kill,
That none might scape (so partiall vnto none)
Ill mynd so much to mynd anothers ill,
As to become vnmyndfull of his owne.
But pardon that vnto the cruell skies,
That from himselfe to them withdrew his eies.
So as he rag'd emongst that beastly rout,
A cruell beast of most accursed brood
Vpon him turnd (despeyre makes cowards stout)
And with fell tooth accustomed to blood, 118
Launched his thigh with so mischieuous might,
That it both bone and muscles ryued quight.
So deadly was the dint and deep the wound,
And so huge streames of blood thereout did flow,
That he endured not the direfull stound,
But on the cold deare earth himselfe did throw.
The whiles the captiue heard his nets did rend,
And hauing none to let, to wood did wend.

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Ah where were ye this while his shepheard peares,
To whom aliue was nought so deare as hee:
And ye faire Mayds the matches of his yeares,
Which in his grace did boast you most to bee?
Ah where were ye, when he of you had need,
To stop his wound that wondrously did bleed?
Ah wretched boy the shape of dreryhead,
And sad ensample of mans suddein end:
Full litle faileth but thou shalt be dead,
Vnpitied, vnplaynd, of foe or frend.
Whilest none is nigh, thine eylids vp to close,
And kisse thy lips like faded leaues of rose.
A sort of shepheards sewing of the chace,
As they the forest raunged on a day:
By fate or fortune came vnto the place,
Where as the lucklesse boy yet bleeding lay.
Yet bleeding lay, and yet would still haue bled,
Had not good hap those shepheards thether led.
They stopt his wound (too late to stop it was)
And in their armes then softly did him reare:
Tho (as he wild) vnto his loued lasse,
His dearest loue him dolefully did beare.
The dolefulst beare that euer man did see,
Was Astrophel, but dearest vnto mee.
She when she saw her loue in such a plight,
With crudled blood and filthie gore deformed:
That wont to be with flowers and gyrlonds dight,
And her deare fauours dearly well adorned,
Her face, the fairest face, that eye mote see,
She likewise did deforme like him to bee.

150

Her yellow locks that shone so bright and long,
As Sunny beames in fairest somers day
She fiersly tore, and with outragious wrong
From her red cheeks the roses rent away. 160
And her faire brest the threasury of ioy,
She spoyld thereof, and filled with annoy.
His palled face impictured with death,
She bathed oft with teares and dried oft:
And with sweet kisses suckt the wasting breath,
Out of his lips like lillies pale and soft.
And oft she cald to him, who answerd nought,
But onely by his lookes did tell his thought.
The rest of her impatient regret,
And piteous mone the which she for him made,
No toong can tell, nor any forth can set, 171
But he whose heart like sorrow did inuade.
At last when paine his vitall powres had spent,
His wasted life her weary lodge forwent.
Which when she saw, she staied not a whit,
But after him did make vntimely haste:
Forth with her ghost out of her corps did flit,
And followed her make like Turtle chaste.
To proue that death their hearts cannot diuide,
Which liuing were in loue so firmly tide.

180

The Gods which all things see, this same beheld, | To men? ah they alas like wretched bee,
And pittying this paire of louers trew,
Transformed them there lying on the field,
Into one flowre that is both red and blew.

And subiect to the heauens ordinance :
Bound to abide what euer they decree,
Their best redresse, is their best sufferance.
How then can they, like wretched, comfort

mee,

The which no lesse, need comforted to bee?
Then to my selfe will I my sorrow mourne,
Sith none aliue like sorrowfull remaines :
And to my selfe my plaints shall back retourne,
To pay their vsury with doubled paines.

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It first growes red, and then to blew doth fade,
Like Astrophel, which thereinto was made.
And in the midst thereof a star appeares,
As fairly formd as any star in skyes:
Resembling Stella in her freshest yeares,
Forth darting beames of beautie from her eyes,
And all the day it standeth full of deow, 191
Which is the teares, that from her eyes did flow. The woods, the hills, the riuers shall resound
That hearbe of some, Starlight is cald by name,
The mournfull accent of my sorrowes ground.
Of others Penthia, though not so well
Woods, hills and riuers, now are desolate,
But thou where euer thou doest finde the same, Sith he is gone the which them all did grace:
From this day forth do call it Astrophel. And all the fields do waile their widow state,
And when so euer thou it vp doest take, Sith death their fairest flowre did late deface.
Do pluck it softly for that shepheards sake. The fairest flowre in field that euer grew,
Hereof when tydings far abroad did passe, Was Astrophel; that was, we all may rew,
The shepheards all which loued him full deare, What cruell hand of cursed foe vnknowne, 31
And sure full deare of all he loued was,
201 Hath cropt the stalke which bore so faire a
Did thether flock to see what they did heare. flowre?
And when that pitteous spectacle they vewed.
The same with bitter teares they all bedewed.
And euery one did make exceeding mone,
With inward anguish and great griefe opprest:
And euery one did weep and waile, and mone,

And meanes deviz'd to shew his sorrow best. That from that houre since first on grassie greene

Shepheards kept sheep, was not like mourning

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Y me, to whom shall I my case com-
plaine,

That may compassion my impatient griefe ?
Or where shall I enfold my inward paine,
That my enriuen heart may find reliefe ?
Shall I vnto the heauenly powres it show?
Or vnto earthly men that dwell below?
To heauens? ah they alas the authors were,
And workers of my vnremedied wo:
For they foresee what to vs happens here,
And they foresaw, yet suffred this be so.
From them comes good, from hem comes
also il,

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That which they made, who can them warne to spill.

Vntimely cropt, before it well were growne,
And cleane defaced in vntimely howre.

Great losse to all that euer him did see,
Great losse to all, but greatest losse to mee.
Breake now your gyrlonds, O ye shepheards
lasses,

Sith the faire flowre, which them adornd, is gon: The flowre, which them adornd, is gone to ashes,

Neuer againe let lasse put gyrlond on.

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In stead of gyrlond, weare sad Cypres nowe,
And bitter Elder, broken from the bowe.
Ne euer sing the loue-layes which he made,
Who euer made such layes of loue as hee?
Ne euer read the riddles, which he sayd
Vnto your selues, to make you mery glee.
Your mery glee is now laid all abed,

Your mery maker now alasse is dead.
Death the deuourer of all worlds delight,
Hath robbed you and reft fro me my ioy: 50
Both you and me, and all the world he quight
Hath robd of ioyance, and left sad annoy.

loy of the world, and shepheards pride was
hee,

Shepheards hope neuer like againe to see.
Oh death that hast vs of such riches reft,
Tell vs at least, what hast thou with it done?
What is become of him whose flowre here left
Is but the shadow of his likenesse gone.

Scarse like the shadow of that which he was,
Nought like, but that he like a shade
did pas.
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And compast all about with roses sweet,
And daintie violets from head to feet.
There thousand birds all of celestiall brood,
To him do sweetly caroll day and night:
And with straunge notes, of him well vnderstood,
Lull him a sleep in Angelick delight;

Whilest in sweet dreame to him presented bee
Immortall beauties, which no eye may see.
But he them sees and takes exceeding pleasure
Of their diuine aspects, appearing plaine, 80
And kindling loue in him aboue all measure,
Sweet loue still ioyous, neuer feeling paine.
For what so goodly forme he there doth see,
He may enioy from iealous rancor free.

There liueth he in euerlasting blis,

Sweet spirit neuer fearing more to die:
Ne dreading harme from any foes of his,
Ne fearing saluage beasts more crueltie.

Whilest we here wretches waile his priuate lack,
And with vaine vowes do often call him back.
But liue thou there still happie, happie spirit,
And giue vs leaue thee here thus to lament:
Not thee that doest thy heauens ioy inherit,
But our owne selues that here in dole are drent.
Thus do we weep and waile, and wear our eies,
Mourning in others, our owne miseries.
Which when she ended had, another swaine
Of gentle wit and daintie sweet deuice:
Whom Astrophel full deare did entertaine, 99
Whilest here he liv'd, and held in passing price,
Hight Thestylis, began his mournfull tourne,
And made the Muses in his song to mourne.
And after him full many other moe,
As euerie one in order lov'd him best,
Gan dight themselues t'expresse their inward

woe,

With dolefull layes vnto the time addrest,
The which I here in order will rehearse,

As fittest flowres to deck his mournfull hearse.

The mourning Muse of Thestylis.

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Ome forth ye Nymphes come forth, forsake your watry bowres,
Forsake your mossy caues, and help me to lament:

Help me to tune my dolefull notes to gurgling sound

Of Liffies tumbling streames: Come let salt teares of ours,
Mix with his waters fresh. O come, let one consent
Ioyne vs to mourne with wailfull plaints the deadly wound
Which fatall clap hath made; decreed by higher powres.
The dreery day in which they haue from vs yrent
The noblest plant that might from East to West be found.
Mourne, mourn, great Philips fall, mourn we his wofull end,
Whom spitefull death hath pluct vntimely from the tree,
Whiles yet his yeares in flowre, did promise worthie frute.

Ah dreadfull Mars why didst thou not thy knight defend?
What wrathfull mood, what fault of ours hath moued thee
Of such a shining light to leaue vs destitute?

ΙΟ

Thou with benigne aspect sometime didst vs behold,
Thou hast in Britons valour tane delight of old,
And with thy presence oft vouchsaft to attribute
Fame and renowme to vs for glorious martiall deeds.

But now thy ireful bemes haue chill'd our harts with cold;
Thou hast estrang'd thy self, and deignest not our land:
Farre off to others now, thy fauour honour breeds,
And high disdaine doth cause thee shun our clime (I feare)
For hadst thou not bene wroth, or that time neare at hand,
Thou wouldst haue heard the cry that woful England made,
Eke Zelands piteous plaints, and Hollands toren heare

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