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"The good and righteous he away doth take,
To plague th' unrighteous which alive remaine;
But the ungodly ones he doth forsake,
By living long to multiplie their paine;
Else surely death should be no punishment,
As the great Judge at first did it ordaine,
But rather riddance from long languishment.
"Therefore, my Daphne they have tane away;
For worthie of a better place was she;
But me unworthie willed here to stay,
That with her lacke I might tormented be.
Sith then they so have ordred, I will pay
Penance to her, according their decree,
And to her ghost doe service day by day.
"For I will walke this wandring pilgrimage,
Throughout the world from one to other end,
And in affliction waste my better age:
My bread shall be the anguish of my mynd,
My drink the teares which fro mine eyes do raine,
My bed the ground that hardest I may fynd;
So will I wilfully increase my paine.
"And she, my love that was, my Saint that is,
When she beholds from her celestiall throne
(In which shee joyeth in eternall blis)
My bitter penance, will my case bemone,
And pittie me that living thus doo die;
For heavenly spirits have compassion
On mortall men, and rue their miserie.
"So when I have with sorrow satisfyde
Th' importune fates, which vengeance on me seeke,
And th' heavens with long languor pacifyde,
She, for pure pitie of my sufferance meeke,
Will send for mee; for which I daylie long,
And will till then my painfull penance eeke.
Weepe, Shepheard! weepe, to make my undersong
"Hencefoorth I hate what ever Nature made,
And in her workmanship no pleasure finde,
For they be all but vaine, and quickly fade;
So soone as on them blowes the Northern winde
They tarrie not, but flit and fall away,
Leaving behind them nought but griefe of minde,
And mocking such as thinke they long will stay.
"I hate the heaven, because it doth withhould
Me from my love, and eke my love from me;
I hate the earth, because it is the mould
Of fleshly slime and fraile mortalitie;
I hate the fire, because to nought it flyes;
I hate the ayre, because sighes of it be;
I hate the Sea, because it teares supplyes.
"I hate the day, because it lendeth light
To see all things, and not my love to see;
I hate the darknesse and the dreary night,
Because they breed sad balefulnesse in mee;
I hate all times, because all times doo fly
So fast away, and may not stayed bee,
But as a speedie post that passeth by.
"I hate to speake, my voyce is spent with crying; I hate to heare, lowd plaints have duld mine eares; I hate to tast, for food withholds my dying;
I hate to see, mine eyes are dimd with teares ;
I hate to smell, no sweet on earth is left;
I hate to feele, my flesh is numbd with feares:
So all my senses from me are bereft.
"I hate all men, and shun all womankinde; The one, because as I they wretched are; The other, for because I doo not finde
My love with them, that wont to be their Starre :
And life I hate, because it will not last;
And death I hate, because it life doth marre;
And all I hate that is to come or past.
So all the world, and all in it I hate,
Because it changeth ever too and fro,
And never standeth in one certain state,
But still unstedfast round about doth goe,
Like a Millwheele, in midst of miserie,
Driven with streames of wretchednesse and woe,
That dying lives, and living still does dye.
"So doo I live, so doo I daylie die,
And pine away in selfe-consuming paine;
Sith she that did my vitall powres supplie,
And feeble spirits in their force maintaine,
Is fetcht fro me, why seeke I to prolong
My wearie daies in dolour and disdaine?
Weepe, Shepheard! weepe, to make my undersong.
"Why doo I longer live in lifes despight,
And doo not dye then in despight of death?
Why doo I longer see this loathsome light
And doo in darknesse not abridge my breath,
Sith all my sorrow should have end thereby,
And cares finde quiet? is it so uneath
To leave this life, or dolorous to dye?
"To live I finde it deadly dolorous,
For life drawes care, and care continuall woe;
Therefore to dye must needes be joyeous,
And wishfull thing this sad life to forgoe.
But I must stay; I may it not amend,
My Daphne hence departing bad me so;
She bad me stay, till she for me did send.
"Yet, whilest I in this wretched vale doo stay,
My wearie feete shall ever wandring be,
That still I may be readie on my way
When as her messenger doth come for me;
Ne will I rest my feete for feeblenesse,
Ne will I rest my limmes for frailtie,
Ne will I rest mine eyes for heavinesse.
"But, as the mother of the Gods, that sought
For faire Euridyce, her daughter deere,
Throghout the world, with wofull heavie thought;
So will I travell whilest I tarrie heere,
Ne will I lodge, ne will I ever lin,
Ne, when as drouping Titan draweth neere
To loose his teeme, will I take up my Inne.
"Ne sleepe (the harbenger of wearie wights)
Shall ever lodge upon mine eye-lids more;
Ne shall with rest refresh my fainting sprights,
Nor failing force to former strength restore;
But I will wake and sorrow all the night
With Philumene, my fortune to deplore,
With Philumene, the partner of my plight.
"And ever as I see the starre to fall,
And under ground to goe, to give them light
Which dwell in darknesse, I to mind will call
How my faire starre (that shind on me so bright) 480
Fell sodainly and faded under ground;
Since whose departure day is turnd to night,
And night without a Venus starre is found.
"But soon as day doth shew his deawie face,
And cals foorth men unto their toylsome trade,
I will withdraw me to some darkesome place,
Or some deere cave, or solitarie shade;
There will I sigh, and sorrow all day long,
And the huge burden of my cares unlade.
Weepe, Shepheard! weepe, to make my undersong
"Henceforth mine eyes shall never more behold 491
Faire thing on earth, ne feed on false delight
Of ought that framed is of mortall mould,
Sith that my fairest flower is faded quight;
For all I see is vaine and transitorie,
Ne will be held in any stedfast plight,
But in a moment loose their grace and glorie.
"And ye, fond men! on fortunes wheele that ride,
Or in ought under heaven repose assurance,
Be it riches, beautie, or honours pride,
Be sure that they shall have no long endurance,
But ere ye be aware will flit away;
For nought of them is yours, but th' only usance
Of a small time, which none ascertaine may.
“And ye, true Lovers! whom desastrous chaunce
Hath farre exiled from your Ladies grace,
To mourne in sorrow and sad sufferaunce,
When ye doe heare me in that desert place
Lamenting loud my Daphnes Elegie,
Helpe me to waile my miserable case,
And when life parts vouchsafe to close mine eye.
"And ye, more happie Lovers! which enjoy
The presence of your dearest loves delight,
When ye doe heare my sorrowfull annoy,
Yet pittie me in your empassiond spright,
And thinke that such mishap, as chaunst to me,
May happen unto the most happiest wight;
For all mens states alike unstedfast be.
"And ye, my fellow Shepheards! which do feed
Your carelesse flockes on hils and open plaines, 520
With better fortune than did me succeed,
Remember yet my undeserved paines;