As then, no winde at all there blew,
No swelling cloude accloid1 the aire;
The skie, like grasse [glasse] of watchet 2 hew,
Reflected Phoebus golden haire;
The garnisht tree no pendant stird,
No voice was heard of anie bird.
There might you see the burly Beare,
The Lion king, the Elephant;
The maiden Unicorne was there,
* "This Poem was written by Matthew Roydon."—TODD.
Alcides speckled poplar tree,
The palme that Monarchs do obtaine,
With love-iuce staind the mulberie,
The fruit that dewes the poets braine;
And Phillis philbert there away,
Comparde with mirtle and the bay.
The tree that coffins doth adorne,
With stately height threatning the skie;
And, for the bed of Love forlorne,
The blacke and dolefull Ebonie;
All in a circle compast were,
Like to an amphitheater.
Percht there upon an oke above;
The Turtle by him never stird,
Example of immortall love.
The Swan that sings, about to dy,
Leaving Meander stood thereby.
And, that which was of woonder most,
The Phoenix left sweet Arabie;
And, on a Cædar in this coast,
Built up her tombe of spicerie,
As I coniecture, by the same
Preparde to take her dying flame.
In midst and center of this plot,
I saw one groveling on the grasse;
A man or stone, I knew not that :
No stone; of man the figure was,
And yet I could not count him one,
More than the image made of stone.
At length I might perceive him reare
His bodie on his elbow end:
Earthly and pale with ghastly cheare,
Upon his knees he upward tend,
Seeming like one in uncouth stound,1
To be ascending out the ground.
A grievous sigh forthwith he throwes,
As might have torne the vitall strings;
Then down his cheeks the teares so flows,
As doth the streame of many springs.
So thunder rends the cloud in twaine,
And makes a passage for the raine.
Incontinent, with trembling sound,
He wofully gan to complaine;
Such were the accents as might wound,
And teare a diamond rocke in twaine:
After his throbs did somewhat stay,
Thus heavily he gan to say.
2 Incontinent, immediately.
O sunne! (said he) seeing the sunne,
On wretched me why dost thou shine?
My star is falne, my comfort done,
Out is the apple of my eine:
Shine upon those possesse delight,
And let me live in endlesse night.
O griefe that liest upon my soule,
As heavie as a mount of lead,
The remnant of my life controll,
Consort me quickly with the dead;
Halfe of this hart, this sprite, and will,
Di'de in the brest of Astrophill.
And you, compassionate of my wo,
Gentle birds, beasts, and shadie trees,
I am assurde ye long to kno
What be the sorrowes me agreev's ;
Listen ye then to that insu'th,1
And heare a tale of teares and ruthe.
You knew, who knew not Astrophill?
(That I should live to say I knew,
And have not in possession still!)
Things knowne permit me to renew ;
Of him you know his merit such,
I cannot say, you heare, too much.
Within these woods of Arcadie
He chiefe delight and pleasure tooke,
And on the mountaine Parthenie,
Upon the chrystall liquid brooke,
The Muses met him ev'ry day,
That taught hin sing, to write, and say.
When he descended downe to the mount,
His personage seemed most divine,
A thousand graces one might count
Upon his lovely cheerfull eine;
To heare him speake and sweetly smile,
You were in Paradise the while.
A sweet attractive kinde of grace,
A full assurance given by lookes,
Continuall comfort in a face,
The lineaments of Gospell bookes;
I trowe that countenance cannot lie,
Whose thoughts are legible in the eie.
Was never eie did see that face,
Was never eare did heare that tong,
Was never minde did minde his grace,
That ever thought the travell long;
But eies, and eares, and ev'ry thought,
Were with his sweete perfections caught.
O God, that such a worthy man,
In whom so rare desarts did raigne,
Desired thus, must leave us than,
And we to wish for him in vaine!
O could the stars, that bred that wit,
In force no longer fixed sit!
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