For winters wrath beginnes to quell,
And pleasant spring appeareth.
The grasse nowe ginnes to be refresht, 10
The swallow peepes out of her nest,
And clowdie welkin cleareth.
Wil. Seest not thilke same hawthorne studde,
How bragly it beginnes to budde,
And utter his tender head? 15
Flora now calleth forth eche flower,
And bids make ready Maias bowre,
That newe is upryst from bedde.
Tho shall we sporten in delight,
And learne with Lettice to wexe light, 20
That scornefully lookes askaunce;
Tho will we little Love awake,
That nowe sleepeth in Lethe lake,
And pray him leaden our daunce.
Tho. Willye, I wene thou bee assott: 25
For lustie Love still sleepeth not,
But is abroad at his game.
Wil. How kenst thou that he is awoke?
Or hast thy selfe his slomber broke?
Or made previe to the same? 30
Tho. No, but happely I hym spyde,
Where in a bush he did him hide,
With winges of purple and blewe.
And were not that my sheepe would stray,
The previe marks I would bewray, 35
Whereby by chaunce I him knewe.
Wil. Thomalin, have no care forthy;
My selfe will have a double eye,
Ylike to my flocke and thine:
For als at home I have a syre, 40
A stepdame eke, as whott as fyre,
That dewly adayes counts mine.
Tho. Nay, but thy seeing will not serve,
My sheepe for that may chaunce to swerve,
And fall into some mischiefe. 45
For sithens is but the third morowe
That I chaunst to fall a sleepe with sorowe,
And waked againe with griefe:
The while thilke same unhappye ewe,
Whose clouted legge her hurt doth shewe, 50
Fell headlong into a dell,
And there unjoynted both her bones:
Mought her necke bene joynted attones,
She shoulde have neede no more spell.
Thelf was so wanton and so wood, 55
(But now I trowe can better good)
She mought ne gang on the greene.
Wil. Let be, as may be, that is past:
That is to come, let be forecast.
Now tell us what thou hast seene. 60
Tho. It was upon a holiday,
When shepheardes groomes han leave to play,
I cast to goe a shooting.
Long wandring up and downe the land,
With bowe and bolts in either hand, 65
For birds in bushes tooting,
At length within an yvie todde
(There shrouded was the little god)
I heard a busie bustling.
I bent my bolt against the bush, 70
Listening if any thing did rushe,
But then heard no more rustling.
Tho peeping close into the thicke,
Might see the moving of some quicke,
Whose shape appeared not: 75
But were it faerie, feend, or snake,
My courage earnd it to awake,
And manfully thereat shotte.
With that sprong forth a naked swayne,
With spotted winges like peacocks trayne, 80
And laughing lope to a tree,
His gylden quiver at his backe,
And silver bowe, which was but slacke,
Which lightly he bent at me.
That seeing I, levelde againe, 85
And shott at him with might and maine,
As thicke as it had hayled.
So long I shott that al was spent:
Tho pumie stones I hastly hent,
And threwe; but nought availed: 90
He was so wimble and so wight,
From bough to bough he lepped light,
And oft the pumies latched.
Therewith affrayd I ranne away:
But he, that earst seemd but to playe, 95
A shaft in earnest snatched,
And hit me running in the heele:
For then, I little smart did feele;
But soone it sore encreased.
And now it ranckleth more and more, 100
And inwardly it festreth sore,
Ne wote I how to cease it.
Wil. Thomalin, I pittie thy plight.
Perdie, with Love thou diddest fight:
I know him by a token. 105
For once I heard my father say,
How he him caught upon a day,
(Whereof he wilbe wroken)
Entangled in a fowling net,
Which he for carrion crowes had set, 110
That in our peeretree haunted.
Tho sayd, he was a winged lad,
But bowe and shafts as then none had,
Els had he sore be daunted.
But see, the welkin thicks apace, 115
And stouping Phebus steepes his face:
Yts time to hast us homeward.
WILLYES EMBLEME.
To be wise and eke to love,
Is graunted scarce to god above.
THOMALINS EMBLEME.
Of hony and of gaule in love there is store:
The honye is much, but the gaule is more.
GLOSS
This Æglogue seemeth somewhat to resemble that same of Theocritus, wherein the boy likewise telling the old man, that he had shot at a winged boy in a tree, was by hym warned to beware of mischiefe to come.
Overwent, overgone.
Alegge, to lessen or aswage.
To quell, to abate.
Welkin, the skie.
The swallow, which bird useth to be counted the messenger, and as it were, the forerunner, of springe.
Flora, the goddesse of flowres, but indede (as saith Tacitus) a famous harlot, which, with the abuse of her body having gotten great riches, made the people of Rome her heyre: who, in remembraunce of so great beneficence, appointed a yearely feste for the memoriall of her, calling her, not as she was, nor as some doe think, Andronica, but Flora: making her the goddesse of all floures, and doing yerely to her solemne sacrifice.
Maias bower, that is, the pleasaunt field, or rather the Maye bushes. Maia is a goddes and the mother of Mercurie, in honour of whome the moneth of Maye is of her name so called, as sayth Macrobius.
Lettice, the name of some country lasse.
Ascaunce, askewe or asquint.
Forthy, therefore.
Lethe is a lake in hell, which the poetes call the lake of forgetfulnes. For Lethe signifieth forgetfulnes. Wherein the soules being dipped, did forget the cares of their former lyfe. So that by Love sleeping in Lethe lake, he meaneth he was almost forgotten, and out of knowledge, by reason of winters hardnesse, when al pleasures, as it were, sleepe and weare oute of mynde.
Assotte, to dote.
His slomber: To breake Loves slomber is to exercise the delightes of love and wanton pleasures.
Winges of purple, so is he feyned of the poetes.
For als: He imitateth Virgils verse,
‘Est mihi namque domi pater, est injusta noverca, &c.’
A dell, a hole in the ground.
Spell is a kinde of verse or charme, that in elder tymes they used often to say over every thing that they would have preserved, as the nightspel for theeves, and the woodspell. And herehence, I thinke, is named the gospell, as it were Gods spell or worde. And so sayth Chaucer, ‘Listeneth Lordings to my spell.’
Gange, goe.
An yvie todde, a thicke bush.
Swaine, a boye: for so is he described of the poetes to be a boye, sc. alwayes freshe and lustie: blindfolded, because he maketh no difference of personages: wyth divers coloured winges, sc. ful of flying fancies: with bowe and arrow, that is, with glaunce of
beautye, which prycketh as a forked arrowe. He is sayd also to have shafts, some leaden, some golden: that is, both pleasure for the gracious and loved, and sorow for the lover that is disdayned or forsaken. But who liste more at large to behold Cupids colours and furniture, let him reade ether Propertius, or Moschus his Idyllion of wandring Love, being now most excellently translated into Latine, by the singuler learned man Angelus Politianus: whych worke I have seene, amongst other of thys poets doings, very wel translated also into Englishe rymes.
Wimble and wighte, quicke and deliver.
In the heele is very poetically spoken, and not without speciall judgement. For I remember that in Homer it is sayd of Thetis, that shee tooke her young babe Achilles, being newely borne, and, holding him by the heele, dipped him in the River of Styx. The vertue whereof is, to defend and keepe the bodyes washed therein from any mortall wound. So Achilles being washed al over, save onely his hele, by which his mother held, was in the rest invulnerable: therfore by Paris was feyned to bee shotte with a poysoned arrowe in the heele, whiles he was busie about the marying of Polyxena in the temple of Apollo: which mysticall fable Eustathius unfolding sayth: that by wounding in the hele is meant lustfull love. For from the heele (as say the best phisitions) to the previe partes there passe certaine veines and slender synnewes, as also the like come from the head, and are carryed lyke little pypes behynd the eares: so that (as sayth Hipocrates) yf those veynes there be cut asonder, the partie straighte becometh cold and unfruiteful. Which reason our poete wel weighing, maketh this shepheards boye of purpose to be wounded by Love in the heele.
Latched, caught.
Wroken, revenged.
For once: In this tale is sette out the simplicitye of shepheards opinion of Love.
Stouping Phæbus is a periphrasis of the sunne setting.
EMBLEME.
Hereby is meant, that all the delights of love, wherein wanton youth walloweth, be but follye mixt with bitternesse, and sorow sawced with repentaunce. For besides that the very affection of love it selfe tormenteth the mynde, and vexeth the body many wayes, with unrestfulnesse all night, and wearines all day, seeking for that we can not have, and fynding that we would not have: even the selfe things which best before us lyked, in course of time and chaung of ryper yeares, whiche also therewithall chaungeth our wonted lyking and former fantasies, will then seeme lothsome and breede us annoyaunce, when yougthes flowre is withered, and we fynde our bodyes and wits aunswere not to suche vayne jollitie and lustfull pleasaunce.
Aprill
ÆGLOGA QUARTA
ARGUMENT
THIS Æglogue is purposely intended to the honor and prayse of our most gracious sovereigne, Queene Elizabeth. The speakers herein be Hobbinoll and Thenott, two shepheardes: the which Hobbinoll, being before mentioned greatly to have loved Colin, is here set forth more largely, complayning him of that boyes great misadventure in love, whereby his mynd was alienate and withdrawen not onely from him, who moste loved him, but also from all former delightes and studies, aswell in pleasaunt pyping as conning ryming and singing, and other his laudable exercises. Whereby he taketh occasion, for proofe of his more excellencie and skill in poetrie, to recorde a songe which the sayd Colin sometime made in honor of her Majestie, whom abruptely he termeth Elysa.
THENOT. HOBBINOLL.
The. Tell me, good Hobbinoll, what garres thee greete?
What! hath some wolfe thy tender lambes ytorne?
Or is thy bagpype broke, that soundes so sweete?
Or art thou of thy loved lasse forlorne?
Or bene thine eyes attempred to the yeare. 5
Quenching the gasping furrowes thirst with rayne?
Like April shoure, so stremes the trickling teares
Adowne thy cheeke, to quenche thy thristye payne.
Hob. Nor thys, nor that, so muche doeth make me mourne,
But for the ladde whome long I lovd so deare 10
Nowe loves a lasse that all his love doth scorne:
He, plongd in payne, his tressed locks dooth teare.
Shepheards delights he dooth them all forsweare,
Hys pleasaunt pipe, whych made us meriment,
He wylfully hath broke, and doth forbeare 15
His wonted songs, wherein he all outwent.
The. What is he for a ladde you so lament?
Ys love such pinching payne to them that prove?
And hath he skill to make so excellent,
Yet hath so little skill to brydle love? 20
Hob. Colin thou kenst, the southerne shepheardes boye:
Him Love hath wounded with a deadly darte.
Whilome on him was all my care and joye,
Forcing with gyfts to winne his wanton heart.
But now from me hys madding mynd is starte, 25
And woes the widdowes daughter of the glenne:
So nowe fayre Rosalind hath bredde hys smart,
So now his frend is chaunged for a frenne.
The. But if hys ditties bene so trimly dight,
I pray thee, Hobbinoll, recorde some one, 30
The whiles our flockes doe graze about in sight,
And we close shrowded in thys shade alone.
Hob. Contented I: then will I singe his laye
Of fayre Elisa, queene of shepheardes all;
Which once he made, as by a spring he laye, 35
And tuned it unto the waters fall.
‘Ye dayntye Nymphs, that in this blessed brooke
Doe bathe your brest,
Forsake your watry bowres, and hether looke,
At my request. 40
And eke you Virgins that on Parnasse dwell,
Whence floweth Helicon, the learned well,
Helpe me to blaze
Her worthy praise
Which in her sexe doth all excell. 45
‘Of fayre Elisa be your silver song,
That blessed wight:
The flowre of virgins, may shee florish long
In princely plight.
For shee is Syrinx daughter without spotte, 50
Which Pan, the shepheards god, of her begot:
So sprong her grace
Of heavenly race,
No mortall blemishe may her blotte.
‘See, where she sits upon the grassie greene, 55
(O seemely sight!)
Yclad in scarlot, like a mayden queene,
And ermines white.
Upon her head a cremosin coronet,
With damaske roses and daffadillies set: 60
Bayleaves betweene,
And primroses greene,
Embellish the sweete violet.
‘Tell me, have ye seene her angelick face,
Like Phœbe fayre? 65
Her heavenly haveour, her princely grace,
Can you well compare?
The redde rose medled with the white yfere,
In either cheeke depeincten lively chere.
Her modest eye, 70
Her majestie,
Where have you seene the like, but there?
‘I sawe Phœbus thrust out his golden hedde,
Upon her to gaze:
But when he sawe how broade her beames did spredde, 75
It did him amaze.
He blusht to see another sunne belowe,
Ne durst againe his fyrye face out showe:
Let him, if he dare,
His brightnesse compare 80
With hers, to have the overthrowe.
‘Shewe thy selfe, Cynthia, with thy silver rayes,
And be not abasht:
When shee the beames of her beauty displayes,
O how art thou dasht! 85
But I will not match her with Latonaes seede;
Such follie great sorow to Niobe did breede:
Now she is a stone,
And makes dayly mone,
Warning all other to take heede. 90
‘Pan may be proud, that ever he begot
Such a bellibone,
And Syrinx re
joyse, that ever was her lot
To beare such an one.
Soone as my younglings cryen for the dam, 95
To her will I offer a milkwhite lamb:
Shee is my goddesse plaine,
And I her shepherds swayne,
Albee forswonck and forswatt I am.
‘I see Calliope speede her to the place, 100
Where my goddesse shines,
And after her the other Muses trace,
With their violines.
Bene they not bay braunches which they doe beare,
All for Elisa in her hand to weare? 105
So sweetely they play,
And sing all the way,
That it a heaven is to heare.
‘Lo how finely the Graces can it foote
To the instrument: 110
They dauncen deffly, and singen soote,
In their meriment.
Wants not a fourth Grace, to make the daunce even?
Let that rowme to my Lady be yeven:
She shalbe a Grace, 115
To fyll the fourth place,
And reigne with the rest in heaven.
‘And whither rennes this bevie of ladies bright,
Raunged in a rowe?
They bene all Ladyes of the Lake behight, 120
That unto her goe.
Chloris, that is the chiefest nymph of al,
Of olive braunches beares a coronall:
Olives bene for peace,
When wars doe surcease: 125
Such for a princesse bene principall.
‘Ye shepheards daughters, that dwell on the greene,
Hye you there apace:
Let none come there, but that virgins bene,
To adorne her grace. 130
And when you come whereas shee is in place,
See that your rudenesse doe not you disgrace:
Binde your fillets faste,
And gird in your waste,
For more finesse, with a tawdrie lace. 135
‘Bring hether the pincke and purple cullambine,
With gelliflowres;
Bring coronations, and sops in wine,
Worne of paramoures;
Strowe me the ground with daffadowndillies, 140
And cowslips, and kingcups, and loved lillies:
The pretie pawnce,
And the chevisaunce,
Shall match with the fayre flowre delice.
‘Now ryse up, Elisa, decked as thou art, 145
In royall aray;
And now ye daintie damsells may depart
Echeone her way.
I feare I have troubled your troupes to longe:
Let Dame Eliza thanke you for her song: 150
And if you come hether
When damsines I gether,
I will part them all you among.’
Complete Works of Edmund Spenser Page 4