daughter Philoclea, which was the cause they three were matched together in this picture, without having any other creature living in that lodge with him. 'Which though it be strange, yet not so strange as the course he hath taken with the princess Pamela, whom he hath placed in the other lodge: but how, think you, accompanied? Truly with none other but one Dametus, the most arrant doltish clown, that I think ever was without the privilege of a bable, with his wife Miso and daughter Mopsa, in whom no wit can devise any thing wherein they may pleasure her, but to exercise her patience and to serve for a foil of her perfections. This loutish clown is such, that you never saw so ill-favoured a visor; his behaviour such, that he is beyond the degree of ridiculous; and for his apparel, even as I would wish him: Myso, his wife, so handsome a beldam, that only her face and splayfoot have made her accused for a witch; only one good point she hath, that she observes decorum, having a froward mind in a wretched body. Between these two personages (who never agreed in any humour, but in disagreeing) is issued forth mistress Mopsa, a fit woman to participate of both their perfections: but because a pleasant fellow of my acquaintance set forth her praises in verse, I will only repeat them, and spare mine own tongue, since she goes for a woman. The verses are these, which I have so often caused to be sung, that I have them without book: 'What length of verse can serve brave Mopsa's good to show, When virtues strange, and beauties such as no man them may know? Thus shrewdly burthen'd then, how can my Muse escape? The gods must help, and precious things must serve to show her shape. Like great god Saturn fair, and like fair Venus chaste Her twinkling eyes bedeck'd with pearl, her lips a sapphire blue; ELEGIACS. "Dorus.-Fortune, Nature, Love, long have contended about me, Which should most miseries cast on a worm that I am. Fortune thus gan say, 'Misery and misfortune is all one; With strong foes on land, on sea with contrary tempests, • Tush, tush,' said Nature, 'this is all but a trifle: a man's self Gives haps or mishaps, even as he ordereth his heart. But so his humour I frame, in a mould of choler adusted, That the delights of life shall be to him dolorous.' Love smiled, and thus said; What join'd to desire is unhappy? But, if he nought do desire, what can Heraclitus ail? None but I work by desire: by desire have I kindled in his soul Infernal agonies into a beauty divine: Where thou, poor Nature, left'st all thy due glory, to Fortune Her virtue is sovereign, Fortune a vassal of hers.' Nature abash'd went back: Fortune blush'd: yet she replied thus: • And even in that love shall I reserve him a spite.' Thus, thus, alas! woeful by Nature, unhappy by Fortune; my desire." SAPPHICS. "If mine eyes can speak to do hearty errand, Hope, we do live yet. * See Johnson's ' Lyce.' But if eyes fail then when I most do need them, Hope, we do both die. Yet dying and dead, do we sing her honour: If the spheres senseless do yet hold a music, Yieldeth a lute's tune: Are then human lives privileged so meanly, That we be her spoils? Thus not ending ends the due praise of her praise: But if eyes can speak to do hearty errand, Or mine eye's language she doth hap to judge of, Hope, we do live yet. Virtue, beauty, and speech, did strike, wound, charm, My heart, eyes, ears, with wonder, love, delight: 1 3 2 First, second, last, did bind, enforce, and arm, 1 His works, shows, suits, with wit, grace, and vow's might. 2 Thus honour, liking, trust, much, far, and deep, 1 2 Held, pierced, possess'd, my judgement, sense, and will; 3 3 Till wrong, contempt, deceit, did grow, steal, creep, 2 3. Then grief, unkindness, proof, took, kindled, wrought 1 2 3 But ah, alas! (in vain) my mind, sight, thought, Doth him, his face, his words, leave, shun, refrain; 1 3 For no thing, time, nor place, can loose, quench, ease, 1 3 1 2 3 Mine own, embraced, sought, knot, fire, disease." As somewhat less quaint in their composition, two additional specimens are subjoined. "The love, which is imprinted in my soul, With beauty's seal and virtue fair disguised, Of huge complaints, that now it is despised. Thus then the more I love, the wrong the more But ah! the more I hate, the more I think 1 As I my little flock on Ister bank (A little flock; but well my pipe they couth) Did piping lead, the sun already sank Beyond our world, and ere I got my booth, Each thing with mantle black the night doth scoth; Saving the glow-worm, which would courteous be Of that small light oft watching shepherds see. The welkin had full niggardly enclosed In coffer of dim clouds his silver groats, Ycleped stars; each thing to rest disposed, The caves were full, the mountains void of goats, The birds' eyes closed, closed their chirping notes. As for the nightingale, wood-music's king, It August was, he deign'd not then to sing. Amid my sheep, though I saw nought to fear, The song I sang old Languet had me taught, He said, The music best thilk powers pleased, He liked me, but pitied lustful youth: His good strong staff my slippery years upbore. He still hoped well, because I loved truth; Till forced to part, with heart and eyes even sore But thus in oak's true shade recounted be, Which now in night's deep shade sheep heard of me." |