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But love, too hateful love, with pleasing spite,
And spiteful pleasare, thus hath bred thy harms;
Thirsil, I ken not what is hate or love,
Thee well I love, and thou lor'st me as well; Yet joy, no torment, in this passion prove;
And often have I heard the fishers tell He's not inferior to the almighty Jove ;
Jove heaven rules; Love Jore, heaven, earth, and
Tell me, my friend, if thou dost better know :
say he goes arm’d with his shafts and bow; Two darts, one swift as fire, as lead the other slow.
Ah, heedless boy ! Love is not such a lad
As he is fancied by the idle swain ;
Such as Diana, who with buskin'd train
With golden quivers, in Thessalian plain,
Love's sooner felt than seen; his substance thin
Betwixt those snowy mounts in ambush lies : Oft in the eyes he spreads his subtle gin;
He therefore soonest wins that fastest flies.
Fly thence my dear; fly fast my
Oft in a voice he creeps down through the ear;
Oft from a blushing cheek he lights his fire; Oft shrouds his golden flame in likest hair ;
Oft in a soft smooth skin doth close retire; Oft in a smile; oft in a silent tear:
And if all fail, yet Virtue's self he'll hire : Himself's a dart when nothing else can move : Who then the captive soul can well reprove, When Love and Virtue's self become the darts of love?
Then love it is which breeds this burning fever:
For late, yet all too soon, on Venus' day,
As careless on the silent shore I stray,
Upon the golden sand to dance and play; The rest among, yet far above the rest, Sweet Melite.
Thomalin, too well that bitter sweet I know,
Since fair Nicæa bred my pleasing smart: But better times did better reason show,
And cur'd those burning wounds with heav'nly art:
These storms of baser fire are laid full low,
And higher love safe anchors in my heart : So now a quiet calm does safely reign : And if my friend think not my counsel vain, Perhaps my art may cure, or much assuage thy pain.
So did I quickly heal this strong infection,
And to myself restor'd myself apace :
Thrice happy thou that could'st! my weaker mind
Can never learn to climb so lofty flight.
If from this love thy will thou can’st unbind,
To will is here to can; will gives thee might;
Now let us home : for see, the weeping night
The “ feast of the morrow” accordingly takes place, and has for its object, the awardment of the prizę,”. which gives name to the seventh and last Eclogue. Aurora from old Tithon's frosty bed
(Cold wintry-witherd Tithon) early creeps; Her cheek with grief was pale, with anger red;
Out of her window close she blushing peeps ;
Her weeping eyes in pearled dew she steeps ;
Casting what sportless nights she ever led;
She dying lives, to think he's living dead. Curst be, and cursed is, that wretched sire That yokes green youth with age, want with desire ; Who ties the sun to snow, or marries frost to fire.
The morn saluting, up I quickly rise,
Shepherd and Fisher-boys had set a prize
Had kill'd; yet with such wound he gladly dies :
There soon I view the merry shepherd swains March three by three, clad all in youthful green ;
And while the sad recorder sweetly plains, Three lovely nymphs, each several row between, More lovely nymphs could nowhere else be seen,
Whose faces' snow their snowy garments staios;
With sweeter voices fit their pleasing strains. Their flocks flock round about; the horned rams And ewes go silent by, while wanton lambs, Dancing along the plains forget their milky dams.
Scarce were the shepherds set, but straight in sight The fisher-boys came driving up the stream;
Themselves in blue; and twenty sea-nymphs bright, In curious robes that well the waves might seem;
All dark below, the top like frothy cream :
And now the nymphs and swains had took their place; First those two boys ; Thomalin the fishers' pride ; Daphnis, the shepherds': nymphs their right hand
grace; And choicest swains shut up the other side : So sit they down in order fit apply'd :
Thirsil betwixt them both, in middle space Thirsil, their judge, who now's a shepherd base, But late a fisber-swain; 'till envious Chame Had rent his nets, and sank his boat with shame; So robb’d the boys of him, and him of all his game.
So as they sit, Thirsil begins the lay ;-
Since I am judge of this sweet peaceful fray,
you spy'd : And when in long discourse you well are try'd,
Then in short verse, by turns we'll gently play:
In love begin, in love we'll end the day.Daphnis thou first :
both are dear: Ah! if I might, I would not judge, but hear; Nought have I of a judge but an impartial ear.
to me you
Here again it would seem from the reference to the “envious Chame," and from the former employment of