Which make this life wretched and miserable,
Tossed with stormes of fortune variable.
[7]
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When I beheld this tickle trusties state
Of vaine worlds glorie, flitting too and fro,
And mortall men tossed by troublous fate
In restles seas of wretchednes and woe,
I wish I might this wearie life forgoe,
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And shortly turne vnto my happie rest,
Where my free spirite might not anie moe
Be vext with sights, that doo her peace molest.
And ye faire Ladie, in whose bounteous brest
All heauenly grace and vertue shrined is,
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When ye these rythmes doo read, and vew the rest,
Loath this base world, and thinke of heauens blis:
And though ye be the fairest of Gods creatures,
Yet thinke, that death shall spoyle your goodly features.
FINIS.
To the right Honorable and vertuous Lady Helena Marquesse of North-hampton.
I haue the rather presumed humbly to offer unto your Honor the
dedication of this little Poëme, for that the noble and vertuous
Gentlewoman of whom it is written, was by match neere alied,
and in affection greatly deuoted vnto your Ladiship. The occasion
5
why I wrote the same, was aswell the great good fame which I
heard of her deceassed, as the particular goodwill which I beare
vnto her husband Master Arthure Gorges, a louer of learning and
vertue, whose house as your Ladiship by manage hath honoured, so
doo I finde the name of them by many notable records, to be of
10
great antiquitie in this Realm; and such as haue euer borne
themselues with honorable reputation to the world, and vnspotted
loyaltie to their Prince and Countrey: besides so linially are they
descended from the Howards, as that the Lady Anne Howard,
eldest daughter to Iohn Duke of Norfolke, was wife to Sir
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Edmund, mother to Sir Edward, and grandmother to Sir William
and Sir Thomas Gorges Knights. And therefore I doo assure
my selfe that no due honour done to the white Lyon, but will be
most gratefull to your Ladiship, whose husband and children doo
so neerely participate with the bloud of that noble familie. So in
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all duetie I recommend this Pamphlet, and the good acceptance
thereof, to your honorable fauour and protection. London this
first of Ianuary. 1591.
Your Honours humbly euer.
E. Sp.
Daphnaïda.
What euer man he be, whose heauie minde
With griefe of mournefull great mishap opprest,
Fit matter for his cares increase would finde:
Let reade the rufull plaint herein exprest
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Of one (I weene) the wofulst man aliue;
Euen sad Alcyon, whose empierced brest
Sharpe sorrowe did in thousand peeces riue.
But who so else in pleasure findeth sense,
Or in this wretched life dooth take delight,
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Let him be banisht farre away from hence:
Ne let the sacred Sisters here be hight,
Though they of sorrowe heauilie can sing;
For euen their heauie song would breede delight:
But here no tunes, saue sobs and grones shall ring.
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In stead of them, and their sweete harmonie,
Let those three fatall Sisters, whose sad hands
Doo weaue the direfull threds of destinie,
And in their wrath breake off the vitall bands,
Approach hereto: and let the dreadfull Queene
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Of darkenes deepe come from the Stygian strands,
And grisly Ghosts to heare this dolefull teene.
In gloomie euening, when the wearie Sun
After his dayes long labour drew to rest,
And sweatie steeds now hauing ouer run
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The compast skie, gan water in the west,
I walkt abroade to breath the freshing ayre
In open fields, whose flowring pride opprest
With early frosts, had lost their beautie faire.
There came vnto my minde a troublous thought,
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Which dayly dooth my weaker wit possesse,
Ne lets it rest, vntill it forth haue brought
Her long borne Infant, fruit of heauinesse,
Which she conceiued hath through meditation
Of this worlds vainnesse and lifes wretchednesse,
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That yet my soule it deepely doth empassion.
So as I muzed on the miserie,
In which men liue, and I of many most,
Most miserable man; I did espie
Where towards me a sory wight did cost,
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Clad all in black, that mourning did bewray:
And Iaakob staffe in hand deuoutlie crost,
Like to some Pilgrim come from farre away.
His carelesse locks, vncombed and vnshorne
Hong long adowne, and beard all ouer growne,
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That well he seemd to be sum wight forlorne;
Downe to the earth his heauie eyes were throwne
As loathing light: and euer as he went,
He sighed soft, and inly deepe did grone,
As if his heart in peeces would haue rent.
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Approaching nigh, his face I vewed nere,
And by the semblant of his countenance,
Me seemd I had his person seene elsewhere,
Most like Alcyon seeming at a glaunce;
Alcyon he, the iollie Shepheard swaine,
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That wont full merrilie to pipe and daunce,
And fill with pleasance euery wood and plaine.
Yet halfe in doubt because of his disguize,
I softlie sayd Alcyon? There with all
He lookt a side as in disdainefull wise,
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Yet stayed not: till I againe did call.
Then turning back he saide with hollow sound,
Who is it, that dooth name me, wofull thrall,
The wretchedst man that treades this day on ground?
One, whome like wofulnesse impressed deepe
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Hath made fit mate thy wretched case to heare,
And giuen like cause with thee to waile and weepe:
Griefe findes some ease by him that like does beare,
Then stay Alcyon, gentle shepheard stay,
(Quoth I) till thou haue to my trustie eare
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Committed, what thee dooth so ill apay.
Cease foolish man (saide he halfe wrothfully)
To seeke to heare that which cannot be tolde.
For the huge anguish, which dooth multiplie
My dying paines, no tongue can well vnfold:
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Ne doo I care, that any should bemone
My hard mishap, or any weepe that would,
But seeke alone to weepe, and dye alone.
Then be it so (quoth I) that thou art bent
To die alone, vnpitied, vnplained,
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Yet ere thou die, it were conuenient
To tell the cause, which thee theretoo constrained:
Least that the world thee dead accuse of guilt,
And say, when thou of none shalt be maintained,
That thou for secret crime thy blood hast spilt.
Who life dooes loath, and longs to bee vnbound
From the strong shackles of fraile flesh (quoth he)
Nought cares at all, wh
at they that liue on ground
Deeme the occasion of his death to bee:
Rather desires to be forgotten quight,
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Than question made of his calamitie,
For harts deep sorrow hates both life and light.
Yet since so much thou seemst to rue my griefe,
And carest for one that for himselfe cares nought,
(Signe of thy loue, though nought for my reliefe:
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For my reliefe exceedeth liuing thought)
I will to thee this heauie case relate,
Then harken well till it to ende bee brought,
For neuer didst thou heare more haplesse fate.
Whilome I vsde (as thou right well doest know)
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My little flocke on westerne downes to keepe,
Not far from whence Sabrinaes streame doth flow,
And flowrie bancks with siluer liquor steepe:
Nought carde I then for worldly change or chaunce,
For all my ioy was on my gentle sheepe,
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And to my pype to caroll and to daunce.
It there befell as I the fields did range
Fearelesse and free, a faire young Lionesse,
White as the natiue Rose before the chaunge,
Which Venus blood did in her leaues impresse,
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I spied playing on the grassie playne
Her youthfull sports and kindlie wantonnesse,
That did all other Beasts in beawtie staine.
Much was I moued at so goodly sight;
Whose like before mine eye had seldome seene,
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And gan to cast, how I her compasse might,
And bring to hand, that yet had neuer beene:
So well I wrought with mildnes and with paine,
That I her caught disporting on the grene,
And brought away fast bound with siluer chaine.
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And afterwards I handled her so fayre,
That though by kind shee stout and saluage were,
For being borne an auncient Lions haire,
And of the race, that all wild beastes do feare;
Yet I her fram’d and wan so to my bent,
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That shee became so meeke and milde of cheare,
As the least lamb in all my flock that went.
For shee in field, where euer I did wend,
Would wend with me, and waite by me all day:
And all the night that I in watch did spend,
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If cause requir’d, or els in sleepe, if nay,
Shee would all night by mee or watch, or sleepe;
And euermore when I did sleepe or play,
She of my flock would take full warie keepe.
Safe then and safest were my sillie sheepe,
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Ne fear’d the Wolfe, ne fear’d the wildest beast:
All were I drown’d in carelesse quiet deepe:
My louelie Lionesse without beheast
So carefull was for them and for my good,
That when I waked, neither most nor least
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I found miscaried or in plaine or wood.
Oft did the Shepeheards, which my hap did heare,
And oft their lasses which my luck enuide,
Daylie resort to me from farre and neare,
To see my Lyonesse, whose praises wide
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Were spred abroad; and when her worthinesse
Much greater than the rude report they tri’de,
Long thus I ioyed in my happinesse,
And well did hope my ioy would haue no end:
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But oh fond man, that in worlds ficklenesse
Reposedst hope, or weenedst her thy frend,
That glories most in mortall miseries,
And daylie doth her changefull counsels bend
To make new matter fit for Tragedies.
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For whilest I was thus without dread or dout,
A cruell Satyre with his murdrous dart,
Greedie of mischiefe ranging all about,
Gaue her the fatall wound of deadlie smart:
And reft fro me my sweete companion,
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And reft fro me my loue, my life, my hart,
My Lyonesse (ah woe is mee) is gon.
Out of the world thus was she reft awaie,
Out of the world, vnworthie such a spoyle;
And borne to heauen, for heauen a fitter pray:
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Much fitter than the Lyon, which with toyle
Alcides slew, and fixt in firmament;
Her now I seek throughout this earthlie soyle,
And seeking misse, and missing doe lament.
Therewith he gan afresh to waile and weepe,
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That I for pittie of his heauie plight,
Could not abstaine mine eyes with teares to steepe:
But when I saw the anguish of his spright
Some deale alaid, I him bespake againe.
Certes Alcyon, painfull is thy plight,
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That it in me breeds almost equall paine.
Yet doth not my dull wit well vnderstand
The riddle of thy loued Lionesse;
For rare it seemes in reason to be skand
That man, who doth the whole worlds rule possesse
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Should to a beast his noble hart embase,
And be the vassall of his vassalesse:
Therefore more plaine aread this doubtfull case.
Then sighing sore, Daphne thou knewest (quoth he)
She now is dead; ne more endured to say:
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But fell to ground for great extreamitie,
That I beholding it, with deepe dismay
Was much appald, and lightlie him vprearing,
Reuoked life that would haue fled away,
All were my self through griefe in deadly drearing.
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Then gan I him to comfort all my best,
And with milde counsaile stroue to mitigate
The stormie passion of his troubled brest,
But he thereby was more empassionate:
As stubborne steed, that is with curb restrained,
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Becomes more fierce and feruent in his gate;
And breaking foorth at last, thus dearnelie plained.
1 What man henceforth, that breatheth vitall ayre,
Will honour heauen, or heauenlie powers adore?
Which so vniustlie doe their iudgments share;
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Mongst earthlie wightes, as to afflict so sore
The innocent, as those which do transgresse,
And do not spare the best or fayrest more,
Than worst or fowlest, but doe both oppresse.
If this be right, why did they then create
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The world so fayre, sith fairenesse is neglected?
Or whie be they themselues immaculate,
If purest things be not by them respected?
She faire, shee pure, most faire, most pure shee was,