So oft as I record those piercing words,
Which yet are deepe engraven in my brest,
And those last deadly accents, which like swords
Did wound my heart, and rend my bleeding chest,
With those sweet sugred speeches doe compare,
The which my soul first conquerd and possest,
The first beginners of my endlesse care:
< And when those pallid cheeks and as he hew, In which sad Death his pourtraiture had writ, And when those hollow eyes and deadly view, On which the cloud of ghastly Night did sit, 305 "I match with that sweete smile and chearful brow, Which all the world subdued unto it,
How happie was I then, and wretched now!
How happie was I when I saw her leade
The Shepheards daughters dauncing in a rownd!
How trimly would she trace and softly tread 311
The tender grasse, with rosye garland crownd!
And, when she list, advaunce her heavenly voyce,
Both nymphes and Muses nigh she made astownd,
◄ And flocks and shepheards caused to reioyce. 315
But now, ye shepheard Lasses! who shall lead
Your wandring troupes, or sing your virelayes?
Or who shall dight your bowres, sith she is dead
That was the lady of your holy-dayes?
Let now your blisse be turned into bale,
And into plaints convert your ioyous playes,
And with the same fill every hill and dale.
Let bagpipe never more be heard to shrill,
That may allure the senses to delight,
Ne ever shepheard sound his oaten quill 325
Unto the many that provoke them might
To idle pleasance; but let ghastlinesse
And drearie horror dim the chearfull light,
To make the image of true heavinesse :
Let birds be silent on the naked spray, 230 And shady woods resound with dreadfull yells; 'Let streaming floods their hastie courses stay,
And parching drouth drie up the cristall wells; 'Let th'earth be barren, and bring foorth no flowres,
And th'ayre be fild with noyse of dolefull knells,
And wandring spirits walke untimely howres. 336
And Nature, nurse of every living thing,
Let rest her seife from her long wearinesse,
And cease henceforth things kindly forth to bring,
But hideous monsters full of uglinesse; 340
For she it is that hath me done this wrong,
No nurse, but stepdame, cruell mercilesse.
Weepe, Shepheard! weepe,to make my undersong.
5 My little flock, whom earst I lov'd so well,
And wont to feed with finest grasse that grew,
Feede ye hencefoorth on bitter astrofell, 346
And stinking smaliage, and unsaverie rew; [rupted,
And, when your mawes are with those weeds cor-
Be ye the pray of wolves; ne will I rew
That with your carkasses wild beasts be glutted.
Ne worse to you, my sillie Sheepe! I pray,
Ne sorer vengeance wish on you to fall
Than to my selfe, for whose confus'd decay
To carelesse Heavens I doo dailie call;
But Heavens refuse to heare a wretches cry; 355 And cruell Death doth scorn to come at call, • Or graunt his boone that most desires to dye.
The good and righteous he away doth take, To plague th' unrighteous which alive remaine; But the ungodly ones he doth forsake, 6 By living long to multiplie their paine; Else surely death should be no punishment, As the great ludge at first did it ordaine, < But rather riddance from log languishment.
Therefore, my Daphne they have tane away; 365
For worthie of a better place was she:
But me unworthie willed here to stay,
That with her lacke 1 might tormented be.
Sith then they so have ordered, I will pay
Penance to her, according their decree,
And to her ghost doe service day by day.
For I will walk this wandring pilgrimage,
Throughout the world from one to other end,
And in affliction waste my bitter age:
My bread shall be the anguish of my mynd, 375
My drink the teares which from mine eyes do raine,
My bed the ground that hardest I may fynd;
So will I wilfully increase my paine.
And she, my love that was, ray saint that is, When she beholds from her celestiall throne 380 (In which shee ioyeth in eternall blis)
My bitter penance, will my case bemone,
And pittie me that living thus doo die;
For heavenly spirits have compassion
On mortall men, and rue their miserie.
So when I have with sorrow satisfyde
Th' importune Fates, which vengeance on me
And th' Heavens with long languor pacifyde,
She, for pure pittie of my sufferance meche,
Will send for me; for which I daily long; 390
And will till then my painfull penance cele.
Weepe,Shepheard! weepe, to make myundersong.
Hencefoorth I hate whatever Nature made,
And in her workmanship no pleasure finde,
For they be all but vaine, and quickly fade; 395
So soone as on them blows the northern winde,
They tarrie not, but flit and fall away,
Leaving behind them nought but griefe of minde,
And mocking such as thinke they long will stay.
"I hate the Heaven, because it doth withhould 400
Me from my love, and eke my love from me;
I hate the earth, because it is the mould
Of fleshly slime and fraile mortalitie;
I hate the fire, because to nought it flyes; "I hate the ayre, because sighes of it be; 405I hate the sea, because it teares supplyes.
I hate the day, because it lendeth light
To see all things, and not my love to see ;
I hate the darknesse and the dreary night,
Because they breed sad balefulnesse in mee; 410
1 hate all times, because, all times doo fly
So fast away, and may not stayed bee,
But as a speedie post that passeth by.
I hate to speake, my voyce is spent with crying;
"I hate to heare, loud playnts have duld mine eares;
I hate to tast, for food withholds my dying; 416
I hate to see, mine eyes are dimd with teares;
I hate to smell, no sweet on earth is left;
I hate to feele, my flesh is numbd with feares : So all my senses from me are bereft.
• I hate all men, and shun all womankinde; The one, because as I they wretched are;
The other, for because I doo not find
My love with them, that wont to be their starre : And life I hate, because it will not last;
And death I hate, because it life doth marre;
And all I hate that is to come or past.
So all the world, and all in it I hate,
Because it changeth ever to and fro,
And never standeth in one certain state,
But, still unstedfast, round about doth goe
Like a mill-wheele, in midst of miserie,
Driven with streames of wretchednesse and woe, That dying lives, and living still does dye.
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