G Woods, AY Ay me, to whom shall I my case complaine, That may compassion my impatient griefe? Or where shall I vnfold unfold my inward paine, That my enriuen enriven heart may find reliefe? Shall I vnto unto the heauenly heavenly powres it show? Or vnto unto earthly men that dwell below? To heauens heavens ? ah they alas the authors were, And workers of my vnremedied unremedied wo: For they foresee what to vs us happens here, And they foresaw, yet suffred this be so. From them comes good, from them comes also il, That which they made, who can them warne to (spill. To men? ah they alas like wretched bee, And subiect subject to the heauens heavens ordinance: Bound to abide what euer ever they decree, Their best redresse, is their best sufferance. How then can they like wetched comfort mee, The which no lesse, need comforted to bee? Then to my selfe will I my sorrow mourne, Sith none aliue alive like sorrowfull remaines: And to my selfe my plaints shall back retourne, To pay their vsury usury with doubled paines. The woods, the hills, the riuers rivers shall resound The mournfull accent of my sorrowes ground. Death VVoods Woods , hills and riuers rivers , now are desolate, Sith he is gone the which them all did grace: And all the fields do waile their widow state, Sith death their fairest flowre did late deface. The fairest flowre in field that euer ever grew, VVas Was Astrophel; that was, we all may rew. VVhat What cruell hand of cursed foe vnknowne unknowne , Hath cropt the stalke which bore so faire a flowre? Vntimely Untimely cropt, before it well were growne, And cleane defaced in vntimely untimely howre. Great losse to all that euer ever him see, Great losse to all, but greatest losse to mee. Breake now your gyrlonds, O ye shepheards lasses, Sith the faire flowre, which them adornd, is gon: The flowre, which them adornd, is gone to ashes, Neuer Never againe let lasse put gyrlond on. Instead of gyrlond, weare sad Cypres nowe, And bitter Elder, broken from the bowe. Ne euer ever sing the loue-layes love-layes which he made, VVho Who euer ever made such layes of loue love as hee? Ne euer ever read the riddles, which he sayd Vnto Unto yourselues yourselves , to make you mery glee. Your mery glee is now laid all abed, Your mery maker now alasse is dead. G2 There Death the deuourer devourer of all worlds delight, Hath robbed you and rest fro me my ioy joy : Both you and me, and all the world he quight Hath robd of ioyance joyance , and lest sad annoy. Ioy Joy of the world, and shepheards pride was hee, Shepheards hope neuer never like againe to see. Oh death that hast vs us of such riches reft, Tell vs us at least, what hast thou with it done? VVhat What is become of him whose flowre here left Is but the shadow of his likenesse gone. Scarse like the shadow of that which he was, Nought like, but that he like a shade did pas. But that immortall spirit, which was deckt VVith With all the dowries of celestiall grace: By soueraine soveraine choyce from th’heuenly th’hevenly quires select, And lineally deriv’d from Angels race, O what is now of it become aread. Ay me, can so diuine divine a thing be dead? Ah no: it is not dead, ne can it die, But liues lives for aie, in blisfull Paradise: VVhere Where like a new-borne babe it soft doth lie, In bed of lillies wrapt in tender wise. And compast all about with roses sweet, And daintie violets from head to feet. Which There thousand birds all of celestiall brood, To him do sweetly caroll day and night: And with straunge notes, of him well vnderstood understood , Lull him a sleep in Angelick delight; Whilest in sweet dreame to him presented bee Immortall beauties, which no eye may see. But he them sees and takes exceeding pleasure Of their diuine divine aspects, appearing plaine, And kindling loue love in him aboue above all measure, Sweet loue love still ioyous joyous , neuer never feeling paine. For what so goodly forme he there doth see, He may enioy enjoy from iealous jealous rancor free. There liueth liveth he in euerlasting everlasting blis, Sweet spirit neuer never fearing more to die: Ne dreading harme from any foes of his, Ne fearing saluage salvage beasts more crueltie. Whilest we here wretches waile his priuate private lack, And with vaine vowes do often call him back. But liue live thou there still happie, happie spirit, And giue give vs us leaue leave thee here thus to lament: Not thee that doest thy heauens heavens ioy joy inherit, But our owne selues selves that here in dole are drent. Thus do we weep and waile, and wear our eies, Mourning in others, our owne miseries. G3 Thou Which when she ended had, another swaine Of gentle wit and daintie sweet deuice device : Whom Astrophel full deare did entertaine, Whilest here he liv’d, and held in passing price, Hight Thestylis, began his mournfull tourne, And made the Muses in his song to mourne. And after him full many other moe, As euerie everie one in order lov’d him best, Gan dight themselues themselves t’expresse their inward woe, With dolefull layes vnto unto the time addrest. The which I here in order will rehearse, As fittest flowres to deck his mournfull hearse.