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Marin for love of Florimell
! WHAT an endlesse worke have I in hand, To count the seas abundant progeny, [land, Whose fruitfull seede farre passeth those in And also those which wonne in th' azure sky: For much more eath to tell the starres on hy, Albe they endlesse seeme in estimation, Then to recount the Seas posterity:
So fertile be the flouds in generation,
So huge their numbers, and so numberlesse their nation.
Therefore the antique wisards well invented
For that the seas by her are most augmented:
All those were there, and many other more,
Whose names and nations were too long to tell,
Yet were they all in order, as befell,
Who thither with her came, to learne and see The manner of the Gods when they at banquet be.
But for he was halfe mortall, being bred
Of mortall sire, though of immortall wombe,
Under the hanging of an hideous clieffe
And made it seeme to feele her grievous paine, And oft to grone with billowes beating from the maine.
"Though vaine, I see, my sorrowes to unfold,
And count my cares when none is nigh to heare, Yet hoping griefe may lessen being told, I will them tell though unto no man neare: For heaven, that unto all lends equall eare, Is farre from hearing of my heavy plight; And lowest hell, to which I lie most neare, Cares not what evils hap to wretched wight; And greedy seas doe in the spoile of life delight.
"Yet loe! the seas, I see, by often beating
Doe pearce the rockes, and hardest marble weares;
Yet though he never list to me relent,
But let me waste in woe my wretched yeares,
But joy that for his sake I suffer prisonment.
"And when my weary ghost, with griefe outworne, 8
Have care of right, or ruth of wretches wrong,
"But if that life ye unto me decree,
Then let mee live as lovers ought to do,
And if he should through pride your doome undo,
So had I rather to be thrall then free:
Such thraldome or such freedome let it surely be.
But whereso loose or happy that thou art,
With that she wept and wail'd, as if her hart
Would quite have burst through great abundance of her smart.
All which complaint when Marinell had heard,
His stubborne heart, that never felt misfare,
Her to redresse: but since he meanes found none, He could no more but her great misery bemone.
Thus whilst his stony heart with tender ruth
Now gan he in his grieved minde devise,
How from that dungeon he might her enlarge. Some while he thought, by faire and humble wise To Proteus selfe to sue for her discharge; But then he fear'd his mothers former charge Gainst womens love, long given him in vaine : Then gan he thinke, perforce with sword and targe Her forth to fetch, and Proteus to constraine; But soone he gan such folly to forthinke againe. Then did he cast to steale her thence away,
And with him beare where none of her might know. But all in vaine; for why he found no way
To enter in, or issue forth below;
For all about that rocke the sea did flow:
At last, when as no meanes he could invent,
Backe to him selfe he gan returne the blame,
That had despisde so chast and faire a dame, Which him had sought through trouble and long
Yet had refusde a God that her had sought to wife. In this sad plight he walked here and there,
And romed round about the rocke in vaine, As he had lost him selfe he wist not where; Oft listening if he mote her heare againe, And still bemoning her unworthy paine. Like as an Hynde, whose calfe is falne unwares Into some pit, where she him heares complaine, An hundred times about the pit side fares, Right sorrowfully mourning her bereaved cares. And now by this the feast was throughly ended, And every one gan homeward to resort: Which seeing, Marinell was sore offended That his departure thence should be so short, And leave his love in that sea-walled fort: Yet durst he not his mother disobay; But her attending in full seemly sort, Did march amongst the many all the way, And all the way did inly mourne, like one astray.
Being returned to his mothers bowre,
In solitary silence, far from wight,
record the lamentable stowre, In which his wretched love lay day and night For his deare sake, that ill deserv'd that plight: The thought whereof empierst his hart so deepe, That of no worldly thing he tooke delight;
Ne dayly food did take, ne nightly sleepe, [weepe. But pyn'd, and mourn'd, and languisht, and alone did