The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
Since outward pleasures be but halted helps to decayed Souls)
Save that daily we may discern what fire we do burn in.
Far more happy be you, whose greatness gets a free access;
Whose fair bodily gifts are fram’d most lovely to each eye,
Virtue you have, of virtue you have left proof to the whole world.
And virtue is grateful, with beauty and richness adorn’d.
Neither doubt you a whit; time will your passion utter.
Hardly remains fire hid where skill is bent to the hiding,
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But in a mind that would his flames should not be repressed,
Nature worketh enough with a small help for the revealing:
Give therefore to the Muse great praise, in whose very likeness
You do approach to the fruit your only desires be to gather.
ZELMANE
First shall fertile grounds not yield increase of a good seed,
First the rivers shall cease to repay their floods to the ocean:
First may a trusty greyhound transform himself to a tiger.
First shall virtue be vice, and beauty be counted a blemish,
Ere that I leave with song of praise her praise to solemnize,
Her praise, whence to the world all praise hath his only beginning:
But yet well I do find each man most wise in his own case.
None can speak of a wound with skill, if he have not a wound felt.
Great to thee my state seems, thy state is bless’d by my judgment:
And yet neither of us great or blest deemeth his own self.
For yet (weigh this alas!) great is not great to the greater.
What judge you doth a hillock show, by the lofty Olympus?
Such my minute greatness, doth seem compar’d to the greatest.
When cedars to the ground fall down by the weight of an emmot,
Or when a rich ruby’s price be the worth of a walnut,
Or to the sun for wonders seem small sparks of a candle:
Then by my high cedar, rich ruby, and only shining sun,
Virtue, riches, beauties of mine shall great be reputed.
Oh, no, no, worthy shepherd, worth can never enter a title,
Where proofs justly do teach, thus match’d, such worth to be nought
worth:
Let not a puppet abuse thy sprite, kings’ crowns do not help them
From the cruel headache, nor shoes of gold do the gout heal:
And precious couches full oft are shak’d with a fever.
If then a bodily ill in a bodily gloze be not hidden,
Shall such morning dews be an ease to the heat of a love’s fire?
DORUS
O glittering miseries of man, if this be the fortune
Of those fortunes’ lulls? so small rests, rest in a kingdom?
What marvel tho’ a prince transform himself to a pastor?
Come from marble bowers many times the gay harbour of anguish,
Unto a silly caban, thought weak, yet stronger against woes.
Now by the words I begin, most famous lady, to gather
Comfort into my soul, I do find what a blessing
Is chanced to my life, that from such muddy abundance
Of carking agonies, to states which still be adherent,
Destiny keeps me aloof, for if all this state to thy virtue
Join’d by thy beauty adorn’d be no means those griefs to abolish:
If neither by that help, thou canst climb up thy fancy,
Nor yet fancy so dress’d do receive more plausible hearing:
Then do I think indeed, that better it is to be private
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In sorrow’s torments, than, tied to the pomps of a palace,
Nurse inward maladies, which have not scope to be breath’d out:
But perforce digest all bitter joys of horror
In silence, from a man’s own self with company robbed.
Better yet do I live, that though by my thoughts I be plunged
Into my life’s bondage, yet may I disburden a passion
(Oppress’d with ruinous conceits) by the help of an out-cry:
Not limited to a whispering note, the lament of a courtier.
But sometimes to the woods, sometimes to the heav’n do decipher
With bold clamour unheard, unmark’d, what I seek, what I suffer:
And when I meet those trees, in the earth’s fair livery clothed,
Ease I do feel, such ease as falls to one wholly diseased,
For that I find in them part of my state represented.
Laurel shows what I seek, by the myrrh is shown how I seek it,
Olive paints me the peace that I must aspire to by conquest:
Myrtle makes my request; my request is crown’d with a willow.
Cypress promiseth help, but a help where comes no recomfort:
Sweet juniper saith this, “Though I burn, yet I burn in a sweet fire.”
Yew doth make me think what kind of bow the boy holdeth,
Which shoots strongly without any noise, and deadly without smart,
Fir-trees great and green, fix’d on a high hill but a barren,
Like to my noble thoughts, still new, well plac’d to me fruitless.
Fig that yields most pleasant fruits, his shadow is hurtful:
Thus be her gifts most sweet, thus more danger to be near her.
Now in a palm when I mark, how he doth rise under a burden,
And may I not, say then, get up though grief be so weighty?
Pine is a mast to a ship, to my ship shall hope for a mast serve.
Pine is high, hope is as high, sharp leav’d, sharp, yet be my hopes
buds.
Elm embrac’d by a vine, embracing fancy reviveth:
Poplar changeth his hue from a rising sun to a setting:
Thus to my sun do I yield, such looks her beams do afford me.
Old aged oak cut down, of new work serves to the building:
So my desires by my fear cut down, be the frames of her honour.
As he makes spears which shields do resist, her force no repulse
takes.
Palms do rejoice to be join’d by the match of a male to a female,
And shall sensitive things be so senseless as to resist sense?
Thus be my thoughts dispers’d, thus thinking nurseth a thinking.
Thus both trees and each thing else, be the books of a fancy.
But to the cedar, queen of woods, when I left my betear’d eyes,
Then do I shape to myself that form which reigns so within me,
And think there she doth dwell and hear what plaints I do utter:
When that noble top doth nod, I believe she salutes me,
When by the wind it maketh a noise, I do think she doth answer.
Then kneeling to the ground, oft thus do I speak to that image:
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Only jewel, O only jewel, which only deservest,
That men’s hearts be thy seat, and endless fame be thy servant,
O descend for a while, from this great height to behold me,
But nought else to behold, else is nought worth the beholding,
Save what a work by thyself is wrought: and since I am alter’d
Thus by thy work, disdain not that which is by thyself done,
In mean caves oft treasure abides, to an hostry a king comes.
And so behind foul clouds full oft fair stars do lie hidden.
ZELMANE
Hardy shepherd, such as thy merits, such may be her insight
Justly to grant thee reward, such envy I hear to thy fortune.
But to myself what wish can I make for a salve to my sorrows,
Whom both nature seems to debar from means to be helped,
And if a mean were found, fortune th’ whole course of it hinders?
Thus plagu’d how can I frame to my sore any hope of amendment?
Whence may I show to my mind any light of possible escape?
Bound, and bound by so noble bands, as loth to be unbound,
Jailer I am to myself, prison and pris’ner to mine own self.
Yet by my hopes thus plac’d, here fix’d lives all my comfort,
That that dear diamond, where wisdom holdeth a sure seat,
Whose force had such force so to transform, nay to reform me,
Will at length perceive those flames by her beams to be kindled,
And will pity the wound festered so strangely within me.
O be it so, grant such an event, O gods, that event give,
And for a sure sacrifice I do daily oblation offer
Of mine own heart, where thoughts be the temple, sight is an altar.
But cease worthy shepherd, now cease we to weary the hearers
With mournful melodies; for enough our griefs be revealed,
If the parties meant our meanings rightly be marked,
And sorrows do require some respite unto the senses.
What exclaiming praises Basilius gave to this Eclogue any man may
guess that knows love is better than a pair of spectacles to make
everything seem greater which is seen through it: and then is never
tongue-tied where fit commendation, whereof womankind is so liquorish,
is offered unto it. But before any other came in to supply the place,
Zelmane having heard some of the shepherds by chance name Strephon and
Claius, supposing thereby they had been present, was desirous both to
hear them for the fame of their friendly love, and to know them for
their kindness towards her best loved friend. Much grieved was
Basilius, that any desire of his mistress should be unsatisfied, and
therefore to represent them unto her, as well as in their absence it
might be, he commanded one Lamon, who had at large set down their
country pastimes and first love to Urania, to sing the whole discourse
which he did in this manner.
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A shepherd’s tale no height of style desires,
To raise in words what in effect is low:
A plaining song plain singing voice requires,
For warbling notes from cheering spirit flow.
I then whose burd’ned breast but thus aspires
Of shepherds two the silly cause to show.
Need not the stately Muse’s help invoke,
For creeping rhymes, which often sighings choke.
But you, O you, that think not tears too dear,
To spend for harms, although they touch you not:
And deign to deem your neighbours’ mischief near,
Although they be of meaner parents got:
You I invite with easy ear’s to hear
The poor-clad truth of love’s wrong-order’d lot.
Who may be glad, be glad you be not such:
Who share in woe, weigh others have as much.
There was (O seldom blessed word of was!)
A pair of friends, or rather one call’d two,
Train’d in the life which no short-bitten grass
In shine or storm must set the clouted shoe:
He, that the other in some years did pass,
And in those gifts that years distribute do,
Was Claius call’d (ah Claius, woeful weight!)
The latter born, yet too soon Strephon height.
Epirus high was honest Claius’s nest,
To Strephon Aeoles’s land first breathing lent:
But east and west were join’d by friendship’s hest.
As Strephon’s ear and heart to Claius bent,
So Claius’s soul did in his Strephon rest.
Still both their flocks flocking together went,
As if they would of owners’ humour be,
As eke their pipes did well, as friends agree.
Claius for skill of herbs and shepherd’s art,
Among the wisest was accounted wise,
Yet not so wise, as of unstained heart:
Strephon was young, yet marked with humble eyes
How elder rul’d their flocks and cur’d their smart,
So that the grave did not his words despise.
Both free of mind, both did clear dealing love,
And both had skill in verse their voice to move.
Their cheerful minds, ’till poison’d was their cheer,
The honest sports of earthly lodging prove;
Now for a clod-like hare in form they peer,
Now bolt and cudgel squirrels’ leap do move:
Now the ambitious lark with mirror clear
They catch, while he (fool!) to himself makes love:
And now at keels they try a harmless chance,
And now their cur they teach to fetch and dance.
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When merry May first early calls the morn,
With merry maids a maying they do go:
Then do they pull from sharp and niggard thorn
The plenteous sweets (can sweets so sharply grow?)
Then some green gowns are by the lasses worn
In chastest plays, ’till home they walk arow,
Whilst dance about the may-pole is begun,
When, if need were, they could at Quintain[b1-05] run:
While thus they ran a low, but levell’d race,
While thus they liv’d, this was indeed a life,
With nature pleas’d, content with present case,
Free of proud fears, brave begg’ry, smiling strife,
Of climb-fall court, the envy hatching place:
While those restless desires in great men rise,
To visit so low of folks did much disdain,