1 Formerly.

To tell the cause which thee thereto constrain'd, 81
Lest that the world thee dead accuse of guilt,
And say, when thou of none shalt be maintain'd,
That thou for secret crime thy blood hast spilt.'

'Who life does loathe, and longs to be unbound
From the strong shackles of frail flesh,' quoth he,
'Naught cares at all what they, that live on ground,
Deem the occasion of his death to be;
Rather desires to be forgotten quite,
Than question made of his calamity;

For heart's deep sorrow hates both life and light.

6

'Yet since so much thou seem'st to rue my grief,
And car'st for one that for himself cares naught,
(Sign of thy love, though naught for my relief,
For my relief exceedeth living thought;)
I will to thee this heavy case relate:
Then hearken well till it to end be brought,
For never didst thou hear more hapless fate.

Whilom1 I us'd (as thou right well dost know)
My little flock on western downs to keep,

Not far from whence Sabrina's stream doth flow,
And flow'ry banks with silver liquor steep;
Naught car'd I then for worldly change or chance,
For all my joy was on my gentle sheep,
And to my pipe to carol and to dance.

'It there befell, as I the fields did range
Fearless and free, a fair young Lioness,*
White as the native rose before the change
Which Venus' blood did in her leaves impress,

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* Young Lioness:' so called from the White Lion, the crest of the Howards.

I spiéd playing on the grassy plain

Her youthful sports and kindly1 wantonness,
That did all other beasts in beauty stain.2

'Much was I moved at so goodly sight,
Whose like before mine eye had seldom seen,
And 'gan to cast how I her compass might,
And bring to hand that yet had never been:
So well I wrought with mildness and with pain,
That I her caught disporting on the green,
And brought away fast bound with silver chain.

'And afterwards I handled her so fair,
That though by kind she stout and savage were,
For being born an ancient Lion's heir,
And of the race that all wild beasts do fear,
Yet I her fram'd, and, won so to my bent,
That she became so meek and mild of cheer,
As the least lamb in all my flock that went:

'For she in field, wherever I did wend,
Would wend with me, and wait by me all day;
And all the night that I in watch did spend,
If cause requir'd, or else in sleep, if nay,
She would all night by me or watch or sleep;
And evermore when I did sleep or play,
She of my flock would take full wary keep.3

'Safe then, and safest were my silly sheep,
Ne fear'd the wolf, ne fear'd the wildest beast,
All were I drown'd in careless quiet deep:
My lovely lioness without beheast

So careful was for them, and for my good,
That when I wakéd, neither most nor least
I found miscarried or in plain or wood.

1 Experienced.

'Oft did the shepherds, which my hap did hear, 141
And oft their lasses, which my luck envíed,
Daily resort to me from far and near,

To see my lioness, whose praises wide

Were spread abroad; and when her worthiness
Much greater than the rude report they tried,1
They her did praise, and my good fortune bless.

'Long thus I joyéd in my happiness,
And well did hope my joy would have no end;
But oh! fond man! that in world's fickleness

Reposed'st hope, or weened'st her thy friend
That glories most in mortal miseries,
And daily doth her changeful counsels bend
To make new matter fit for tragedies;

For whilst I was thus without dread or doubt,
A cruel Satyr with his murd'rous dart,
Greedy of mischief, ranging all about,

Gave her the fatal wound of deadly smart,

And reft from me my sweet companion,

150

And reft from me my love, my life, my heart: 160
My lioness (ah, woe is me!) is gone!

"Out of the world thus was she reft away,
Out of the world, unworthy such a spoil,

And borne to heaven, for heaven a fitter prey;
Much fitter than the lion, which with toil
Alcides slew, and fix'd in firmament;
Her now I seek throughout this earthly soil,
And seeking miss, and missing do lament.'

Therewith he gan afresh to wail and weep,
That I for pity of his heavy plight

170

Could not abstain mine eyes with tears to steep; 171
But, when I saw the anguish of his sprite
Some deal alaid, I him bespake again;
'Certes, Alcyon, painful is thy plight,
That it in me breeds almost equal pain.

'Yet doth not my dull wit well understand The riddle of thy loved lioness;

For rare it seems in reason to be scann'd,

That man, who doth the whole world's rule possess,
Should to a beast his noble heart embase,
And be the vassal of his vassaless;

Therefore more plain arede1 this doubtful case.'

180

Then sighing sore, 'Daphne thou knew'st,' quoth he,

She now is dead;' ne more endur'd to say,

But fell to ground for great extremity;

That I, beholding it, with deep dismay

Was much appall'd; and, lightly him uprearing,
Revokéd life, that would have fled away,

All were myself, through grief, in deadly drearing.

Then gan I him to comfort all my best,
And with mild counsel strove to mitigate
The stormy passion of his troubled breast,
But he thereby was more empassionate;
As stubborn steed, that is with curb restrain'd,
Becomes more fierce and fervent in his gait;

And, breaking forth at last, thus dearnly 2 plain'd:

I.

'What man henceforth that breatheth vital air
Will honour Heaven, or heavenly powers adore,
Which so unjustly doth their judgments share
Mongst earthly wights, as to afflict so sore

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1 Explain.

2 Earnest

ly.

The innocent, as those which do transgress,
And do not spare the best or fairest, more
Than worst or foulest, but do both oppress?

'If this be right, why did they then create
The world so fair, sith fairness is neglected?
Or why be they themselves immaculate,
If purest things be not by them respected?
She fair, she pure, most fair, most pure she was,
Yet was by them as thing impure rejected;
Yet she in pureness heaven itself did pass.

'In pureness and in all celestial grace,
That men admire in goodly womankind,
She did excel, and seem'd of angels' race,
1 Deified. Living on earth like angel new divined,1
Adorn'd with wisdom and with chastity,
And all the dowries of a noble mind,
Which did her beauty much more beautify.

'No age hath bred (since fair Astræa left
The sinful world) more virtue in a wight;
And, when she parted hence, with her she reft
Great hope, and robb'd her race of bounty quite.
Well may the shepherd lasses now lament;
For double loss by her hath on them light,
To lose both her and bounty's ornament.

'Ne let Elisa, royal shepherdess,
The praises of my parted love envý,
For she hath praises in all plenteousness
Pour'd upon her, like showers of Castaly,

By her own shepherd, Colin, her own shepherd,
That her with heavenly hymns doth deify,
Of rustic Muse full hardly to be better'd.

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