Daphnaïda WHat What euer ever man he be, whose heauie heavie minde With griefe of mournefull great mishap opprest, Fit matter for his cares increase would finde: Let reade the rufull plaint herein exprest Of one (I weene) the wofulst man aliue alive ; Euen Even sad Alcyon, whose empierced brest Sharpe sorrowe did in thousand peeces riue rive . But who so else in pleasure findeth sense, Or in this wretched life dooth take delight, Let him be banisht farre away from hence: Ne let the sacred Sisters here be hight, Though they of sorrowe heauilie heavilie can sing; For euen even their heauie heavie song would breede delight: But here no tunes, saue save sobs and grones shall ring. In stead of them, and their sweete harmonie, Let those three fatall Sisters, whose sad hands Doo weaue weave the direfull threds of destinie, And in their wrath breake off the vitall bands, Approach hereto: and let the dreadfull Queene Of darkenes deepe come from the Stygian strands, And grisly Ghosts to heare this dolefull teene. Daphnaida. Approaching In gloomie euening evening , when the wearie Sun After his dayes long labour drew to rest, And sweatie steeds now hauing having ouer over run The compast skie, gan water in the west, I walkt abroade to breath the freshing ayre In open fields, whose flowring pride opprest With early frosts, had lost their beautie faire. There came vnto unto my minde a troublous thought, Which dayly dooth my weaker wit possesse, Ne lets it rest, vntill untill it forth haue have brought Her long borne Infant, fruit of heauinesse heavinesse , Which she conceiued conceived hath through meditation Of this worlds vainnesse and lifes wretchednesse, That yet my soule it deeply doth empassion. So as I muzed on the miserie, In which men liue live , and I of many most, Most miserable man; I did espie Where towards me a sory wight did cost, Clad in all black, that mourning did bewray: And Iaakob Jaakob staffe in hand deuoutlie devoutlie crost, Like to some Pilgrim come from farre away. His carelesse locks, vncombed uncombed and vnshorne unshorne Hong long adowne, and beard all ouer over growne, That well he seemd to be sum wight forlorne; Downe to the earth his heauie heavie eyes were throwne As loathing light: and euer ever as he went, He sighed soft, and inly deepe did grone, As if his heart in peeces would haue have rent. Daphnaïda. Then Approaching nigh, his face I vewed nere, And by the semblant of his countenance, Me seemd I had his person seene elsewhere, Most like Alcyon seeming at a glaunce; Alcyon he, the iollie jollie Shepheard swaine, That wont full merrilie to pipe and daunce, And fill with pleasance euery every wood and plaine. Yet halfe in doubt because of his disguize, I softlie sayd Alcyon? There with all He lookt a side as in disdainefull wise, Yet stayed not: till I againe did call. Then turning back he saide with hollow sound, Who is it, that dooth name me, wofull thrall, The wretchedst man that treades this day on ground? One, whome like wofulnesse impressed deepe Hath made fit mate thy wretched case to heare, And giuen given like cause with thee to waile and weepe: Griefe findes some ease by him that like does beare, Then stay Alcyon, gentle shepheard stay, (Quoth I) till thou haue have to my trustie eare Committed, what thee dooth so ill apay. Cease foolish man (saide he halfe wrothfully) To seeke to heare that which cannot be tolde. For the huge anguish, which dooth multiplie My dying paines, no tongue can well vnfold unfold : Ne doo I care, that any should bemone My hard mishap, or any weepe that would, But seeke alone to weepe, and dye alone. Daphnaïda. It Then be it so (quoth I) that thou art bent To die alone, vnpitied unpitied , vnplained unplained , Yet ere thou die, it were conuenient convenient To tell the cause, which thee theretoo constrained: Least that the world thee dead accuse of guilt, And say, when thou of none shalt be maintained, That thou for secret crime thy blood hast spilt. Who life dooes loath, and longs to bee vnbound unbound From the strong shackles of fraile flesh (quoth he) Nought cares at all, what they that liue live on ground Deeme the occasion of his death to bee: Rather desires to be forgotten quight, Than question made of his calamitie, For harts deep sorrow hates both life and light. Yet since so much thou seemst to rue my griefe, And carest for one that for himselfe cares nought, (Signe of thy loue love , though nought for my reliefe: For my reliefe exceedeth liuing living thought) I will to thee this heauie heavie case relate, Then harken well till it to ende bee brought, For neuer never didst thou heare more haplesse fate. Whilome I vsde usde (as thou right well doest know) My little flocke on westerne downes to keepe. Not far from whence Sabrinaes streame doth flow, And flowrie bancks with siluer silver liquor steepe: Nought carde I then for worldly change or chaunce, For all my ioy joy was on my gentle sheepe, And to my pype to caroll and to daunce. Daphnaïda. B A It there befell as I the fields did range Fearlesse and free, a faire young Lionesse, White as the natiue native Rose before the chaunge, Which Venus blood did in her leaues leaves impresse, I spied playing on the grassie playne Her youthfull sports and kindlie wantonnesse. That did all other Beasts in beawtie staine. Much was I moued moved at so goodly sight; Whose like before mine eye had seldome seene, And gan to cast, how I her compasse might, And bring to hand, that yet had neuer never beene: So well I wrought with mildnes and with paine, That I her caught disporting on the grene, And brought away fastbound with siluer silver chaine. And afterwards I handled her so fayre, That though by kind shee stout and saluage salvage were, For being borne and auncient Lions haire, And of the race, that all wild beastes do feare; Yet I her fram’d and wan so to my bent, That shee became so meeke and milde of cheare, As the least lamb in all my flock that went. For shee in field, where euer ever I did wend, Would wend with me, and waite by me all day: And all the night that I in watch did spend, If cause requir’d, or els in sleepe, if nay, Shee would all night by mee or watch, or sleepe: And euermore evermore when I did sleepe or play, She of my flock would take full warie keepe. Safe then and safest were my sillie sheepe, Ne fear’d the Wolfe, ne fear’d the wildest beast: Daphnaïda. Alcides All were I drown’d in carelesse quiet deepe: My louelie lovelie Lionesse without beheast So carefull was for them and for my good, That when I waked, neither most nor least I found miscaried or in plaine or wood. Oft did the Shepeheards, which my hap did heare, And oft their lasses which my luck enuide envide , Daylie resort to me from farre and neare, To see my Lyonesse, whose praises wide Were spred abroad; and when her worthinesse Much greater than the rude report they tri’de, They her did praise, and my good fortune blesse. Long thus I ioyed joyed in my happinesse, And well did hope my ioy joy would haue have no end: But oh fond man, that in worlds ficklenesse Reposedst hope, or weenedst her thy frend, That glories most in mortall miseries, And daylie doth her changefull counsels bend: To make new matter fit for Tragedies. For whilest I was thus without dread or dout, A cruell Satyre with his murdrous dart, Greedie of mischiefe ranging all about, Gaue Gave her the fatall wound of deadlie smart: And reft fro me my sweete companion, And reft fro me my loue love , my life, my hart, My Lyonesse (ah woe is mee) is gon. Out of the world thus was she reft awaie, Out of the world, vnworthie unworthie such a spoyle; And borne to heauen heaven , for heauen heaven a fitter pray: Much fitter than the Lyon, which with toyle Daphnaïda. B2 Becomes Alcides slew, and fixt in firmament; Her now I seek throughout this earthlie soyle, And seeking misse, and missing doe lament. Therewith he gan afresh to waile and weepe, That I for pittie of his heauie heavie plight, Could not abstaine mine eyes with teares to steepe: But when I saw the anguish of his spright Some deale alaid, I him bespake againe. Certes Alcyon, painfull is thy plight, That it in me breeds almost equall paine. Yet doth not my dull wit well vnderstand understand The riddle of thy loued loved Lionesse; For rare it seemes in reason to be skand That man, who doth the whole worlds rule possesse Should to a beast his noble hart embase, And be the vassall of his vassalesse: Therefore more plaine aread this doubtfull case. Then sighing sore, Daphne thou knewest (quoth he) She now is dead; ne more endured to say: But fell to ground for great extreamitie, That I beholding it, with deepe dismay Was much appald, and lightlie him vprearing uprearing , Reuoked Revoked life that would haue have fled away, All were my self through griefe in deadly drearing. Then gan I him to comfort all my best, And with milde counsaile stroue strove to mitigate The stormie passion of his troubled brest, But he thereby was more empassionate: As stubborne steed, that is with curb restrained, Daphnaïda. Ne Becomes more fierce and feruent fervent in his gate; And breaking foorth at last, thus dearnelie plained. 1 What man henceforth, that breatheth vitall ayre, Will honour heauen heaven , or heauenlie heavenlie powers adore? Which so vniustlie unjustlie doe their iudgments judgments share; Mongst earthlie wightes, as to afflict so sore The innocent, as those which do transgresse, And do not spare the best or fayrest more, Than worst or fowlest, but doe both oppresse. If this be right, why did they then create The world so fayre, sith faireness is neglected? Or whie be they themselues themselves immaculate, If purest things be not by them respected? She faire, shee pure, most faire most pure shee was, Yet was by them as thing impure reiected rejected : Yet shee in purenesse, heauen heaven it selfe did pas. In pureness and in all celestiall grace, That men admire in goodlie womankinde; Shee did excell and seem’d of Angels race Liuing Living on earth like Angell new diuinde divinde , Adorn’d with wisedome and with chastitie: And all the dowries of a noble mind, Which did her beautie much more beautifie. No age hath bred (since fayre Astræa left The sinfull world) more vertue in a wight, And when she parted hence, with her she reft Great hope; and robd her race of bountie quight: Well may the shepheard lasses now lament, For dubble losse by her hath on them light; To loose both her and bounties ornament. Daphnaïda. B3 But Ne let Elisa royall Shepheardesse The praises of my parted loue love enuy envy , For she hath praises in all plenteousnesse Powr’d vpon upon her like showers of Castaly By her own Shepheard, Colin her owne Shepherd, That her with heauenly heavenly hymnes doth deifie, Of rustick muse full hardly to be betterd. She is the Rose, the glorie of the day, And mine the Primrose in the lowly shade, Mine, ah not mine; amisse I mine did say: Not mine but his, which mine awhile her made: Mine to be his, with him to liue live for ay: O that so faire a flower so soone should fade, And through vntimely untimely tempest fall away. She fell away in her first ages spring, Whil’st yet her leafe was greene, & and fresh her rinde, And whil’st her braunch faire blossomes foorth did (bring, She fell away against all course of kinde: For age to dye is right, but youth is wrong; She fel away like fruit blowne downe with winde: Weepe Shepheard weepe to make my vndersong undersong . 2 What hart so stony hard, but that would weepe, And poure foorth fountaines of incessant teares? What Timon, but would let compassion creepe Into his brest, and pierce his frosen eares? In stead of teares, whose brackish bitter well I wasted haue have , my heart blood dropping weares, To thinke to ground how that faire blossome fell. Yet fell she not, as one enforst to dye, Ne dyde with dread and grudging discontent Daphnaïda. But But as one toyld with trauaile travaile downe doth lye, So lay she downe, as if to sleepe she went, And closde her eyes with carelesse quietnesse; The whiles soft death away her spirit hent, And soule assoyld from sinfull fleshlinesse. Yet ere that life her lodging did forsake, She all resolu’d resolv’d and ready to remoue remove , Calling to me (ay me) this wise bespake; Alcyon, ah my first and latest loue love , Ah why does my Alcyon weepe and mourne, And grieue grieve my ghost, that ill mote him behoue behove , As if to me had chanst some euill evill tourne? I, since the messenger is come for mee, That summons soules vnto unto the bridale feast Of his great Lord, must needes depart from thee, And straight obay his soueraine soveraine beheast: Why should Alcyon then so sore lament, That I from miserie shall be releast, And freed from wretched long imprisonment? Our daies are full of dolor and disease, Our life afflicted with incessant paine, That nought on earth may lessen or appease. Why then should I desire here to remaine? Or why should he that loues loves me, sorie bee For my deliuerance deliverance , or at all complaine My good to heare, and toward ioyes joyes to see? I goe, and long desired haue have to goe, I goe with gladnesse to my wished rest, Whereas no worlds sad care, nor wasting woe May come their happie quiet to molest, Daphnaïda. Both But Saints and Angels in celestiall thrones Eternally him praise, that hath them blest, There shall I be amongst those blessed ones. Yet ere I goe, a pledge I leaue leave with thee Of the late loue love , the which betwixt vs us past, My yong Ambrosia, in lieu of mee Loue Love her: so shall our loue love for euer ever last. Thus deare adieu, whom I expect ere long: So hauing having said, away she softly past: Weep Shepheard weep, to make mine vndersong undersong . 3 So oft as I record those piercing words, Which yet are deepe engrauen 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 speaches doo compare, The which my soule first conquerd and possest, The first beginners of my endles care; And when those pallid cheekes and ashy hew, In which sad death his pourtraicture had writ, And when those hollow eyes and deadly view, On which the clowde of ghastly night did sit, I match with that sweet smile and chearfull brow, Which all the world subdued vnto 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 The tender grasse with rosie garland crownd? And when she list aduance advance her heauenly heavenly voyce, Daphnaïda. My Both Nimphs and Muses nigh she made astownd, And flocks and shepheards caused to reioyce rejoyce . 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 conuert convert your ioyous joyous playes, And with the same fill euery every hill and dale. Let Bagpipe neuer never more be heard to shrill, That may allure the senses to delight; Ne euer ever Shepheard sound his Oaten quill Vnto Unto the many, that prouoke provoke them might To idle pleasance: but let ghastlinesse And drery horror dim the chearfull light, To make the image of true heauinesse heavinesse . Let birds be silent on the naked spray, And shady woods resound with dreadfull yells: Let streaming floods their hastie courses stay, And parching drougth drie vp up the christall 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 vntimely untimely howres. And Nature nurse of euery every liuing living thing, Let rest her selfe from her long wearinesse, And cease henceforth things kindly forth to bring, But hideous monsters full of vglinesse uglinesse : For she it is, that hath me done this wrong, No nurse, but Stepdame cruell mercilesse, Weepe Shepheard weepe to make my vnder under song. Daphnaïda. C And 4 My little flocke, whom earst I lou’d lov’d so well, And wont to feede with finest grasse that grew, Feede ye hencefoorth on bitter Astrofell, And stinking Smallage, and vnsauerie unsaverie Rew; And when your mawes are with those weeds cor(rupted, Be ye the pray of Wolues 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 confusde decay To carelesse heauens heavens I doo daylie call: But heauens heavens refuse to heare a wretches cry, And cruell death doth scorne to come at call, Or graunt his boone, that most desires to dye. The good and righteous he away doth take, To plague th’vnrighteous th’unrighteous which aliue alive remaine: But the vngodly ungodly ones he doth forsake, By liuing living long to multiplie their paine: Els surely death should be no punishment, As the great Iudge Judge at first did it ordaine, But rather riddance from long languishment. Therefore my Daphne they haue have tane away; For worthie of a better place was she: But me vnworthie unworthie willed here to stay, That with her lacke I might tormented be. Sith then they so haue have ordred, I will pay Penance to her according their decree, And to her ghost doo seruice service day by day. For I will walke this wandring pilgrimage Throughout the world from one to other end, Daphnaïda. I And in affliction wast my better age. My bread shall be the anguish of my mind, My drink the teares which fro my eyes do raine, My bed the ground that hardest I may finde; So will I wilfully increase my paine. And she my loue love that was, my Saint that is, When she beholds from her celestiall throne, (In which shee ioyeth joyeth in eternall blis) My bitter penance, will my case bemone, And pitie me that liuing living thus doo die: For heauenly heavenly spirits haue have compassion On mortall men, and rue their miserie. So when I haue have with sorowe satisfide Th’importune fates, which vengeance on me seeke, And th’eauens th’eavens with long languor pacifide, She for pure pitie of my sufferance meeke, Will send for me; for which I daylie long, And will tell then my painfull penance eeke: Weep Shepheard, weep to make my vnder under song. 5 Hencefoorth I hate what euer ever Nature made, And in her workmanship no pleasure finde: For they be all but vaine, and quickly fade, So soone as on them blowes the Northern winde, They tarrie not, but flit and fall away, Leauing Leaving behind them nought but griefe of minde, And mocking such as thinke they long will stay. I hate the heauen heaven , because it doth withhold Me from my loue love , and eke my loue love from me; I hate the earth, because it is the mold Of fleshly slime and fraile mortalitie; Daphnaïda. C2 Driuen Driven I hate the fire, because to nought it flyes, I hate the Ayre, because sighes of it be, I hate the Sea, because it teares supplyes. I hate the day, because it lendeth light To see all things, and not my loue love to see: I hate the darknesse and the drery night, Because they breed sad balefulnesse in mee: I hate all times, because all times doo flye 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, lowd plaints haue have duld mine eares: I hate to tast, for food withholds my dying: 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 finde My loue 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 euer ever too and fro, And neuer never standeth in one certaine state, But still vnstedfast unstedfast round about doth goe, Like a Mill wheele, in midst of miserie, Daphnaïda. But Driuen Driven with streames of wretchednesse and woe, That dying liues lives , and liuing living still does dye. So doo I liue live , so doo I daylie die, And pine away in selfe-consuming paine, Sith she that did my vitall powres supplie, And feeble spirits in their force maintaine Is fetcht fro me, why seeke I to prolong My wearie daies in dolor and disdaine? Weep Shepheard weep to make my vnder under song. 6 Why doo I longer liue live in lifes despight? And doo not dye then in despight of death: Why doo I longer see this loathsome light, And doo in darknesse not abridge my breath, Sith all my sorrow should haue have end thereby, And cares finde quiet; is it so vneath uneath To leaue leave this life, or dolorous to dye? To liue live I finde it deadly dolorous; For life drawes care, and care continuall woe: Therefore to dye must needes be ioyeous joyeous , And wishfull thing this sad life to forgoe. But I must stay; I may it not amend, My Daphne hence departing bad me so, She bad me stay, till she for me did send. Yet whilest I in this wretched vale doo stay, My wearie feete shall euer ever wandring be, That still I may be readie on my way, When as her messenger doth come for me: Ne will I rest my feete or feeblenesse, Ne will I rest my limmes for frailtie, Ne will I rest mine eyes for heauinesse heavinesse . Daphnaïda. C3 Of But as the mother of the Gods, that sought For faire Eurydice her daughter deere Throghout the world, with wofull heauie heavie thought; So will I trauell travell whilest I tarrie heere, Ne will I lodge, ne will I euer ever lin, Ne when as drouping Titan draweth neere To loose his teeme, will I take vp up my Innne. Ne sleepe (the harbenger of wearie wights) Shall euer ever lodge vpon upon mine ey-lids more; Ne shall with rest refresh my fainting sprights, Nor failing force to former strength restore, But I will wake and sorrow all the night With Philumene, my fortune to deplore, With Philumene, the partner of my plight. And euer ever as I see the starres to fall, And vnder under ground to goe, to giue give them light Which dwell in darknes, I to minde will call, How my faire Starre (that shinde on me so bright) Fell sodainly, and faded vnder under ground; Since whose departure, day is turnd to night, And night without a Venus starre is found. But soone as day doth shew his deawie face, And calls foorth men vnto unto their toylsome trade, I will withdraw me to some darksome place, Or some deepe caue cave , or solitarie shade; There will I sigh and sorrow all day long, And the huge burden of my cares vnlade unlade : Weep Shepheard, weep, to make my vndersong undersong . 7 Hence foorth mine eyes shall neuer never more behold Faire thing on earth, ne feed on false delight Daphnaïda. And Of ought that framed is of mortall moulde, Sith that my fairest flower is faded quight: For all I see is vaine and transitorie, Ne will be helde in anie stedfast plight, But in a moment loose their grace and glorie. And ye fond men on fortunes wheele that ride, Or in ought vnder under heauen heaven repose assurance, Be it riches, beautie, or honors pride: Be sure that they shall haue have no long endurance, But ere ye be aware will flit away; For nought of them is yours, but th’onely vsance usance Of a small time, which none ascertaine may. And ye true Louers Lovers , whom desastrous chaunce Hath farre exiled from your Ladies grace, To mourne in sorrow and sad sufferaunce, When ye doo heare me in that desert place Lamenting lowde my Daphnes Elegie, Helpe me to wayle my miserable case, And when life parts, vouchsafe to close mine eye. And ye more happie Louers Lovers , which enioy enjoy The presence of your dearest loues loves delight, When ye doo heare my sorrowfull annoy, Yet pittie me in your empassiond spright, And thinke that such mishap, as chaunst to me, May happen vnto unto the most happiest wight; For all mens states alike vnstedfast unstedfast be. And ye my fellow Shepheards, which do feed Your carelesse flocks on hils and open plaines, With better fortune, than did me succeed, Remember yet my vndeserued undeserved paines, Daphnaïda. As And when ye heare, that I am dead or slaine, Lament my lot, and tell your fellow swaines, That sad Alycon dyde in lifes disdaine. And ye faire Damsels Shepheards dere delights, That with your loues loves do their rude hearts possesse, When as my hearse shall happen to your sightes, Vouchsafe to deck the same with Cyparesse; And euer ever sprinckle brackish teares among, In pitie of my vndeseru’d undeserv’d distresse, The which I wretch, endured haue have thus long. And ye poore Pilgrimes, that with restlesse toyle Wearie your selues selves in wandring desert wayes, Till that you come, where ye your vowes assoyle, When passing by ye read these wofull layes On my graue grave written, rue my Daphnes wrong, And mourne for me that languish out my dayes: Cease Shepheard, cease, and end thy vndersong undersong . Thus when he ended had his heauie heavie plaint, The heauiest heaviest plaint that euer ever I heard sound, His cheekes wext pale, and sprights began to faint, As if againe he would haue have fallen to ground; Which when I saw, I (stepping to him light) Amooued Amooved him out of his stonie swound, And gan him to recomfort as I might. But he no waie recomforted would be, Nor suffer solace to approach him nie, But casting vp up a sdeinfullasdeinfull eie at me, That in his traunce I would not let him lie, Did rend his haire, and beat his blubbred face Daphnaïda. As one disposed wilfullie to die, That I sore grieu’d griev’d to see his wretched case. Tho when the pang was somewhat ouerpast overpast , And the outragious passion nigh appeased, I him desirde, sith daie was ouercast overcast , And darke night fast approched, to be pleased To turne aside vnto unto my Cabinet, And staie with me, till he were better eased Of that strong stownd, which him so sore beset. But by no meanes I could him win thereto, Ne longer him intreate with me to staie, But without taking leaue leave , he foorth did goe With staggring pace and dismall lookes dismay, As if that death he in the face had seene, Or hellish hags had met vpon upon the way: But what of him became I cannot weene. F I N I S.