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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 ioyoús, neuer feeling paine.
For what so goodly forme he there doth see,
He may enjoy 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
loyne 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?

Thou with benigne aspect sometime didst vs behold,
Thou hast in Britons valour tane delight of old,

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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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Would haply haue appeas'd thy diuine angry mynd:

Thou shouldst haue seen the trees refuse to yeeld their shade,
And wailing to let fall the honor of their head,

And birds in mournfull tunes lamenting in their kinde:

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Vp from his tombe the mightie Corineus rose,

Who cursing oft the fates that this mishap had bred,
His hoary locks he tare, calling the heauens vnkinde.

The Thames was heard to roare, the Reyne and eke the Mose,
The Schald, the Danow selfe this great mischance did rue,
With torment and with grief; their fountains pure and cleere
Were troubled, and with swelling flouds declar'd their woes.
The Muses comfortles, the Nymphs with paled hue,
The Siluan Gods likewise came running farre and neere,
And all with teares bedeawd, and eyes cast vp on hie,
O help, O help ye Gods, they ghastly gan to crie.
O chaunge the cruell fate of this so rare a wight,
And graunt that natures course may measure out his age.
The beasts their foode forsooke, and trembling fearfully,
Each sought his caue or den, this cry did them so fright.
Out from amid the waues, by storme then stirr'd to rage
This crie did cause to rise th'old father Ocean hoare,
Who graue with eld, and full of maiestie in sight,

Spake in this wise. Refrain (quoth he) your teares and plaints,
Cease these your idle words, make vaine requests no more.
No humble speech nor mone, may moue the fixed stint
Of destinie or death: Such is his will that paints
The earth with colours fresh; the darkest skies with store
Of starry lights: And though your teares a hart of flint
Might tender make, yet nought herein they will preuaile.

Whiles thus he said, the noble knight, who gan to feele
His vitall force to faint, and death with cruell dint
Of direfull dart his mortall bodie to assaile,
With eyes lift vp to heav'n, and courage franke as steele,
With cheerfull face, where valour liuely was exprest,
But humble mynd he said. O Lord if ought this fraile
And earthly carcasse haue thy seruice sought t'aduaunce,
If my desire haue bene still to relieue th'opprest;
If Iustice to maintaine that valour I haue spent

Which thou me gau'st; or if henceforth I might aduaunce

Thy name, thy truth, then spare me (Lord) if thou think best;
Forbeare these vnripe yeares. But if thy will be bent,

If that prefixed time be come which thou hast set,
Through pure and feruent faith, I hope now to be plast,
In th'euerlasting blis, which with thy precious blood
Thou purchase didst for vs. With that a sigh he fet,
And straight a cloudie mist his sences ouercast,
His lips waxt pale and wan, like damaske roses bud
Cast from the stalke, or like in field to purple flowre,
Which languisheth being shred by culter as it past.

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A trembling chilly cold ran throgh their veines, which were
With eies brimfull of teares to see his fatall howre,

Whose blustring sighes at first their sorrow did declare,

Next, murmuring ensude; at last they not forbeare

Plaine outcries, all against the heau'ns that enuiously
Depriv'd vs of a spright so perfect and so rare.

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The Sun his lightsom beames did shrowd, and hide his face

For griefe, whereby the earth feard night eternally:

The mountaines eachwhere shooke, the riuers turn'd their streames,
And th'aire gan winterlike to rage and fret apace:

And grisly ghosts by night were seene, and fierie gleames,
Amid the clouds with claps of thunder, that did seeme
To rent the skies, and made both man and beast afeard :
The birds of ill presage this lucklesse chance foretold,
By dernfull noise, and dogs with howling made man deeme
Some mischief was at hand: for such they do esteeme
As tokens of mishap, and so haue done of old.

Ah that thou hadst but heard his louely Stella plaine
Her greeuous losse, or seene her heauie mourning cheere,
While she with woe opprest, her sorrowes did vnfold.
Her haire hung lose neglect, about her shoulders twaine,
And from those two bright starres, to him sometime so deere,
Her heart sent drops of pearle, which fell in foyson downe
Twixt lilly and the rose. She wroong her hands with paine,
And piteously gan say, My true and faithfull pheere,
Alas and woe is me, why should my fortune frowne
On me thus frowardly to rob me of my ioy?
What cruell enuious hand hath taken thee away,
And with thee my content, my comfort and my stay?
Thou onelie wast the ease of trouble and annoy:
When they did me assaile, in thee my hopes did rest.
Alas what now is left but grief, that night and day
Afflicts this wofull life, and with continuall rage
Torments ten thousand waies my miserable brest?
O greedie enuious heau'n what needed thee to haue
Enricht with such a lewell this vnhappie age,
To take it back againe so soone? Alas when shall

Mine eies see ought that may content them, since thy graue

My onely treasure hides the ioyes of my poore hart?

As here with thee on earth I liv'd, euen so equall
Methinkes it were with thee in heau'n I did abide :
And as our troubles all we here on earth did part,
So reason would that there of thy most happie state
I had my share. Alas if thou my trustie guide
Were wont to be, how canst thou leaue me thus alone
In darknesse and astray; weake, wearie, desolate,
Plung'd in a world of woe, refusing for to take
Me with thee, to the place of rest where thou art gone.
This said, she held her peace, for sorrow tide her toong;
And insteed of more words, seemd that her eies a lake
Of teares had bene, they flow'd so plenteously therefro:
And with her sobs and sighs, th'aire round about her roong.
If Venus when she waild her deare Adonis slaine,
Ought moov'd in thy fiers hart compassion of her woe,
His noble sisters plaints, her sighes and teares emong,
Would sure haue made thee milde, and inly rue her paine:
Aurora halfe so faire, her selfe did neuer show,
When from old Tithons bed, shee weeping did arise.
The blinded archer-boy, like larke in showre of raine
Sat bathing of his wings, and glad the time did spend
Vnder those cristall drops, which fell from her faire eies,
And at their brightest beames him proynd in louely wise.
Yet sorie for her grief, which he could not amend,

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The gentle boy gan wipe her eies, and clear those lights,
Those lights through which, his glory and his conquests shine.
The Graces tuckt her hair, which hung like threds of gold,
Along her yuorie brest the treasure of delights.

All things with her to weep, it seemed, did encline,

The trees, the hills, the dales, the caues, the stones so cold.

The aire did help them mourne, with dark clouds, raine and mist,
Forbearing many a day to cleare it selfe againe,

Which made them eftsoones feare the daies of Pirrha shold,
Of creatures spoile the earth, their fatall threds vntwist.
For Phœbus gladsome raies were wished for in vaine,
And with her quiuering light Latonas daughter faire,
And Charles-waine eke refus'd to be the shipmans guide.
On Neptune warre was made by Aeolus and his traine,
Who letting loose the winds, tost and tormented th'aire,
So that on eu'ry coast men shipwrack did abide,
Or else were swallowed vp in open sea with waues,
And such as came to shoare, were beaten with despaire.
The Medwaies siluer streames, that wont so still to slide,

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Were troubled now and wrothe: whose hidden hollow caues
Along his banks with fog then shrowded from mans eye,
Ay Phillip did resownd, aie Phillip they did crie.

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His Nimphs were seen no more (thogh custom stil it craues)
With haire spred to the wynd themselues to bath or sport,
Or with the hooke or net, barefooted wantonly

The pleasant daintie fish to entangle or deceiue.
The shepheards left their wonted places of resort,

Their bagpipes now were still; their louing mery layes

Were quite forgot; and now their flocks, men might perceiue
To wander and to straie, all carelesly neglect.
And in the stead of mirth and pleasure, nights and dayes,
Nought els was to be heard, but woes, complaints and mone.
But thou (O blessed soule) doest haply not respect,
These teares we shead, though full of louing pure affect,
Hauing affixt thine eyes on that most glorious throne,
Where full of maiestie the high creator reignes.
In whose bright shining face thy ioyes are all complete,
Whose loue kindles thy spright, where happie alwaies one,
Thou liu'st in blis that earthly passion neuer staines ;
Where from the purest spring the sacred Nectar sweete
Is thy continuall drinke: where thou doest gather now
Of well emploied life, th'inestimable gaines.
There Venus on thee smiles, Apollo giues thee place,
And Mars in reuerent wise doth to thy vertue bow,
And decks his fiery sphere, to do thee honour most.
In highest part whereof, thy valour for to grace,
A chaire of gold he setts to thee, and there doth tell
Thy noble acts arew, whereby euen they that boast
Themselues of auncient fame, as Pirrhus, Hanniball,
Scipio and Cæsar, with the rest that did excell
In martiall prowesse, high thy glorie do admire.

All haile therefore O worthie Phillip immortall,
The flowre of Sydneyes race, the honour of thy name,
Whose worthie praise to sing, my Muses not aspire,
But sorrowfull and sad these teares to thee let fall,
Yet with their verses might so farre and wide thy fame
Extend, that enuies rage, nor time might end the same.

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A pastorall Aeglogue vpon the death of
Sir Phillip Sidney Knight, &c.

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But if my plaints annoy thee where thou sit

Colin, well fits thy sad cheare this sad In secret shade or cave; vouchsafe (straint

stownd,

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He slides away, and murmuring doth plaine,
And seemes to say vnto the fading flowres,
Along his bankes, vnto the bared trees;
Phillisides is dead. Vp iolly swaine,
Thou that with skill canst tune a dolefull lay,
Help him to mourn. My hart with grief doth
freese,
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Hoarse is my voice with crying, else a part
Sure would I beare, though rude: But as I may,
With sobs and sighes I second will thy song,
And so expresse the sorrowes of my hart.
Colin. Ah Lycon, Lycon, what need skill, to
teach

A grieued mynd powre forth his plaints? how long

Hath the pore Turtle gon to school (weenest thou)

To learne to mourne her lost make? No, no, each

Creature by nature can tell how to waile. Seest not these flocks, how sad they wander now?

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Seemeth their leaders bell their bleating tunes In dolefull sound. Like him, not one doth faile With hanging head to shew a heauie cheare. What bird (I pray thee) hast thou seen, that prunes

Himselfe of late? did any cheerfull note
Come to thine eares, or gladsome sight appeare
Vnto thine eies, since that same fatall howre?
Hath not the aire put on his mourning coat,
And testified his grief with flowing teares?
Sith then, it seemeth each thing to his powre
Doth vs inuite to make a sad consort; 31
Come let vs ioyne our mournfull song with
theirs.

Griefe will endite, and sorrow will enforce
Thy voice, and Eccho will our words report.
Lyc. Though my rude rymes, ill with thy
verses frame,

That others farre excell, yet will I force
My selfe to answere thee the best I can,
And honor my base words with his high name.

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To pardon me, and here this hard constraint
With patience while I sing, and pittie it.
And eke ye rurall Muses, that do dwell
In these wilde woods; If euer piteous plaint
We did endite, or taught a wofull minde
With words of pure affect, his griefe to tell,
Instruct me now. Now Colin then goe on,
And I will follow thee, though farre behinde.
Colin. Phillisides is dead. O harmfull death,
O deadly harme. Vnhappie Albion
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When shalt thou see emong thy shepheards all,
Any so sage, so perfect? Whom vneath
Enuie could touch for vertuous life and skill;
Curteous, valiant, and liberall.

Behold the sacred Pales, where with haire
Vntrust she sitts, in shade of yonder hill.
And her faire face bent sadly downe, doth send
A floud of teares to bathe the earth; and there
Doth call the heau'ns despightfull, enuious,
Cruell his fate, that made so short an end 60
Of that same life, well worthie to haue bene
Prolongd with many yeares, happie and
famous.

The Nymphs and Oreades her round about
Do sit lamenting on the grassie grene;
And with shrill cries, beating their whitest
brests,

Accuse the direfull dart that death sent out To giue the fatall stroke. The starres they blame,

That deafe or carelesse seeme at their request. The pleasant shade of stately groues they shun; They leaue their cristall springs, where they wont frame

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Sweet bowres of Myrtel twigs and Lawrel faire, To sport themselues free from the scorching Sun.

And now the hollow caues where horror darke Doth dwell, whence banisht is the gladsome aire They seeke; and there in mourning spend their time

With wailfull tunes, whiles wolues do howle and barke,

And seem to beare a bourdon to their plaint.

Lyc. Phillisides is dead. O dolefull ryme. Why should my toong expresse thee? who is left 79 Now to vphold thy hopes, when they do faint,

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