JANUARIE.

AEGLOGA PRIMA.

Argument.

IN this first Aeglogue Colin Clout, a Shepheards Boy, com. plaineth himselfe of his unfortunate love, being but newly (as seemeth) enamoured of a Country Lasse called Rosalinde with which strong affection being verie sore travelled, he compareth his careful case to the sad season of the yeare, to the frostie ground, to the frosen trees, and to his owne winterbeaten Hocke. And lastly, finding himselfe robbed of all former pleasance and delight, he breaketh his Pipe in peeces, and casteth himselfe to the ground.

COLIN CLOUT.

A SHEPHEARDS Boy, (no better doe him call,)
When winters wastful spight was almost spent,
All in a sunneshine day, as did befall,
Led forth his flock, that had bene long ypent:
So faint they woxe, and feeble in the folde,
That now unne hes their feete could them uphold.

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All as the sheepe, such was the shepheards looke,
For pale and wanne he was, (alas the while!)
May seeme he lovd, or else some care hee tooke:
Well conth hee tune his pipe and frame his stile:
Tho to a hill his fainting flocke hee ledde,
And thus him playnde, the while his sheepe there
[fedde:

Ye gods of love! that pitie lovers paine,

(If any gods the paine of lovers pitie,)

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'Looke from above, where you in ioyes remaine,
'And how your eares unto my dolefull dittie.
'And, Pan! thou shepheards god, that once didst ́

love,

'Pitie the paines that thou thy selfe didst prove. [wasted,

'Thou barraine ground, whom winters wrath hath 'Art made a mirror to behold my plight:

20 Whilome thy fresh spring flowrd, and after hasted Thy sommer prowde, with diffadillies dight; 'And now is come thy winters stormie state, Thy mantle mard wherein thou maskedst late.

'Such rage as winters raigneth in my hart,

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My life-bloud freesing with unkindly cold; 'Such stormie stoures do breede my balefull smart, 'As if my yeare were wast and woxen old;

And yet, alas! but now my spring begonne,
And yet, alas! it is already donne.

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'You naked trees, whose shadie leaves are lost,
'Wherein the birds were wont to build their bowre,
'And now are clothd with mosse and hoarie frost,
'Insteede of blosomes, wherewith your buds did
flowre;

'I see your teares that from your boughes do raine,
Whose drops in drerie ysicles remaine.

All so my lustfull leafe is drie and sere, 'My timely buds with wayling all are wasted

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I

The blossome which my braunch of youth did beare,

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With breathed sighes is blowne away and blasted; And from mine eyes the drizling teares descend, 'As on your boughes the ysicles depend.

[rent,

Thou feeble Flocke! whose fleece is rough and 'Whose knees are weake through fast and evill fare, Maist witnesse well, by thy ill government, 45 Thy maisters mind is overcome with care:

"Thou weake, I wanne ; thou leane, I quite forlorne: With mourning pynel; you with pyning mourne.

A thousand sithes I curse that carefull houre 'Wherein I longd the neighbour towne to see, 50 "And eke tenne thousand sithes I blesse the stoure 'Wherein I sawe so faire a sight as shee:

'Yet all for naught: such sight hath bred my bane. 'Ah, God! that love should breed both ioy and paine !

It is not Hobbinol wherefore I plaine,

Albee my love hee seeke with dayly suit; His clownish gifts and curtsies I disdaine, • His kiddes, his cracknelles, and his early fruit. "Ah, foolish Hobbinol! thy giftes bene vaine; • Colin them gives to Rosalind againe.

'I love thilke Lasse, (alas! why doe I love?) And am forlorne, (alas! why am I lorne ?)

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'She deignes not my good will, but doth reprove, 'And of my rurall musick holdeth scorne.

'Shepheards devise she hateth as the snake, 65 And laughes the songs that Colin Clout doth make.

Wherefore, my Pype, albee rude Pan thou please, 'Yet for thou pleasest not where most I would; 'And thou, unluckie Muse, that wontst to ease "My musing minde, yet canst not when thou should;

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'Both Pype and Muse shall sore the while abye.'So broke his oaten pype, and down did lye.

By that, the welked Phoebus gan availe
His wearie waine; and now the frostie Night
Her mantle black through heaven gan overhaile:75
Which seene, the pensive Boy, halfe in despight,
Arose, and homeward drove his sunned sheepe,
Whose hanging heades did seeme his carefull case
to weepe.

COLINS EMBLEME.

Anchora speme.

GLOSSE.

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Colin Clout, is a name not greatly used, and yet have I seene a poesie of M. Skeltons under that title. But in deede the worde Colin is French, and used of the French poet Marot (if hee bee worthie of the

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name of a poet) in a certaine Aeglogue. Under which name this Poet secretly shadoweth himselfe, as sometime did Virgil under the name of Tityrus, thinking it much fitter then such Latin names, for the great unlikelihood of the language.

Unnethes, scarcely.

Couth, commeth of the verbe Conne, that is, to know, or to have skil. As well interpreteth the same, the worthy Sir Tho. Smith, in his booke of government: whereof I have a perfect copie in writing, lent mee by his kinsman, and my very singular good friend, M. Gabriel Harvey; as also of some other his grave and excellent writings.

Sith, time.

Neighbour towne, the next towne: expressing the Latin Vicinia.

Stoure, a fit.

Sere, withered.

His clownish gifts, imitateth Virgil's verse.

"Rusticus es Corydon, nec munera curat Alexis."

Hobbinoll, is a fained country name, whereby, it being so common and usuall, seemeth to be hidden the person of some his very especiall and most familiar friend, whom he intirely and extraordinary beloved, as peradventure shal be more largely declared hereafter. In this place seemeth to be some favor of disorderly love, which the learned call Paderastice: but it is gathered beside his meaning. For who hath red Plato his Dialogue called Alcibiades ; Xenophon, and Maximus Tyrius, of Socrates opinions; may easily perceive, that such love is to be allowed and liked of, specially so ment, as Socrates used it: who saith, that indeede he loved Alcybiades extreemely, yet not Alcybiades person, but his soule, which is Alcybiades owne selfe. And so is Pederastice much to be preferred before Gynerastice, that is, the love which inflameth men with lust