"Here manie other like heroës bec,
Equall in honour to the former crue,
Whom ye in goodly seates may placed see,
Descended all from Rome by linage due;
From Rome, that holds the world in sovereigntie,
And doth all nations unto her subdue:
Here Fabii and Decii doo dwell,
Horatii that in vertue did excell.
"And here the antique fame of stout Camill
Doth ever live; and constant Curtius,
Who stifly bent his vowed life to spill
For countreyes health, a gulph most hideous
Amidst the towne with his owne corps did fill,
T' appease the Powers; and prudent Mutius,
Who in his flesh endur'd the scorching flame,
To daunt his foe by' ensample of the same.
"And here wise Curius, companion
Of noble vertues, lives in endles rest;
And stout Flaminius, whose devotion.
Taught him the fires scorn'd furie to detest;
And here the praise of either Scipion
Abides in highest place above the best,
To whom the ruin'd walls of Carthage vow'd;
Trembling, their forces sound their praises lowd.
"Live they for ever through their lasting praise! But I, poore wretch, am forced to retourne
To the sad lakes that Phoebus sunnie rayes
Doo never see, where soules doo alwaies mourne;
And by the wayling shores to waste my dayes, Where Phlegeton with quenchles flames doth burne; By which iust Minos righteous soules doth sever From wicked ones, to live in blisse for ever.
"Me therefore thus the cruell fiends of hell
Girt with long snakes, and thousand yron chaynes,
Through doome of that their cruell Iudge, compell
With bitter torture, and impatient paines,
Cause of my death and iust complaint to tell.
For thou art he, whom my poore ghost complaines
To be the author of her ill unwares,
That careles hear'st my' intollerable cares.
"Them therefore as bequeathing to the winde,
I now depart, returning to thee never,
And leave this lamentable plaint behinde.
But doo thou haunt the soft downe-rolling river,
And wilde greene woods and fruitfull pastures minde;
And let the flitting aire my vaine words sever."
Thus having said, he heavily departed
With piteous crie, that anie would have smarted.
Now, when the sloathfull fit of lifes sweete rest
Had left the heavie Shepheard, wondrous cares
His inly grieved minde full sore opprest;
That balefull sorrow he no longer beares
For that Gnats death, which deeply was imprest;
But bends what ever power his aged yeares
Him lent, yet being such, as through their might
He lately slue his dreadfull foe in fight.
By that same river lurking under greene,
Eftsooneshe gins 2 to fashion forth a place;
And, squaring it in compasse well beseene,
There plotteth out a tombe by measured space :
His yron-headed spade tho3 making cleene,
To dig up sods out of the flowrie grasse,
His worke he shortly to good purpose brought,
Like as he had conceiv'd it in his thought.
An heape of earth he hoorded up on hie,
Enclosing it with banks on everie side,
And thereupon did raise full busily
A little mount, of greene turffs edifide1;
And on the top of all, that passers by
Might it behold, the toomb he did provide
Of smoothest marble stone in order set,
That never might his luckie scape forget.
And round about he taught sweet flowres to growe;
The Rose engrained in pure scarlet die;
The Lilly fresh; and Violet belowe;
The Marigolde; and cherefull Rosemarie;
The Spartan Mirtle, whence sweet gumb does flowe; The purple Hyacinthe; and fresh Costmarie;
And Saffron, sought for in Cilician soyle;
And Lawrell, th' ornament of Phoebus toyle.
Fresh Rhododaphne; and the Sabine flowre,
Matching the wealth of th' auncient Frankincence;
1 Eftsoones, immediately.
2 Gins, begins.
3 Tho, then.
• Edifide, built.
And pallid Yvie, building his owne bowre;
And Box, yet mindfull of his olde offence;
Red Amaranthus, lucklesse paramour;
Oxeye still greene; and bitter Patience;
Ne wants there pale Narcisse, that, in a well
Seeing his beautie, in love with it fell.
And whatsoever other flowre of worth,
And whatso other hearb of lovely hew,
The ioyous Spring out of the ground brings forth,
To cloath her selfe in colours fresh and new;
He planted there, and reard a mount of earth,
In whose high front was writ as doth ensue.1
To thee, small Gnat, in lieu of his life saved, The Shepheard hath thy deaths record engraved.
DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE,
THE LADIE COMPTON AND MOUNTEGLE.
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