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All their pipes were still, And Colin Clout began to tune his quill With such deep art that every one was given To think Apollo, newly slid from Heaven, Had ta'en a human shape to win his love, Or with the western swains for glory strove. He sung th' heroic knights of Faiery-land In lines so elegant, of such command, That had the Thracian played but half so well, He had not left Eurydice in Hell. But ere he ended his melodious song An host of angels flew the clouds among, And rapt this swan from his attentive mates, To make him one of their associates In Heaven's fair quire : where now he sings the praise Of Him that is the first and last of days Divinèst Spenser, heaven-bred, happy Muse ! Would any power into my brain infuse Thy worth, or all that poets had before, I could not praise till thou deserv'st no more.

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Glide soft, ye silver floods,

And every spring.
Within the shady woods

Let no bird sing !
Nor from the grove a turtle dove

Be seen to couple with her love.
But silence on each dale and mountain dwell,
Whilst Willy bids his friend and joy farewell.

But of great Thetis' train

Ye mermaids fair
That on the shores do plain

Your sea-green hair,
As ye in trammels knit your locks

Weep ye; and so enforce the rocks
In heavy murmurs through the broad shores tell,
How Willy bade his friend and joy farewell.

Cease, cease, ye murmuring winds,

To move a wave ;
But if with troubled minds

You seek his grave,
Know 'tis as various as yourselves

Now in the deep, then on the shelves,
His coffin tossed by fish and surges fell,
Whilst Willy weeps, and bids all joy farewell.

Had he, Arion like

Been judged to drown,
He on his lute could strike

So rare a sown,
A thousand dolphins would have come

And jointly strive to bring him home.
But he on shipboard died, by sickness fell,
Since when his Willy paid all joy farewell.

‘Great Neptune, hear a swain !

His coffin take,
And with a golden chain

For pity make
It fast unto a rock near land !

Where ev'ry calmy morn I'll stand,
And ere one sheep out of my fold I tell,
Sad Willy's pipe shall bid his friend farewell.

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The praise of Sydney. Ere their arrival Astrophell had done His shepherd's lay, yet equalized of none. The admired mirror, glory of our isle, Thou far far more than mortal man, whose style Struck more men dumb to hearken to thy song Than Orpheus' harp, or Tully's golden tongue. To him, as right, for wit's deep quintessence, For honour, valour, virtue, excellence, Be all the garlands, crown his tomb with bay, Who spake as much as e'er our tongue can say.

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He sweetly touched what I harshly hit,
Yet thus I glory in what I have writ ;
Sidney began, and,—if a wit so mean
May taste with him the dews of Hippocrene,-
I sung the pastoral next ; his Muse my mover ;
And on the plains full many a pensive lover
Shall sing us to their loves, and praising be
My humble lines the more for praising thee.
Thus we shall live with them, by rocks, by springs,
As well as Homer by the deaths of kings.

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A colour passage. As in the rainbow's many-coloured hue, Here see we watchet deepened with a blue ; There a dark tawny with a purple mixt, Yellow and flame, with streaks of green betwixt, A bloody stream into a blushing run, And ends still with the colour which begun ; Drawing the deeper to a lighter stain, Bringing the lightest to the deep'st again, With such rare art each mingleth with his fellow, The blue with watchet, green and red with yellow;

Like to the changes which we daily see
About the dove's neck with variety,
Where none can say, though he it strict attends,
Here one begins, and there the other ends :
So did the maidens with their various flowers
Deck up their windows, and make neat their bowers ;
Using such cunning as they did dispose
The ruddy piny with the lighter rose,
The monk's-hoods with the bugloss, and entwine
The white, the blue, the flesh-like columbine
With pinks, sweet-williams : that far off the eye
Could not the manner of their mixtures spy.

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The description of Walla.
A green silk frock her comely shoulders clad,
And took delight that such a seat it had,
Which at her middle gathered up in pleats
A love-knot girdle willing bondage threats.
Nor Venus' ceston held a braver piece,
Nor that which girt the fairest flower of Greece.
Down to her waist her mantle loose did fall
Which Zephyr, as afraid, still played withal,
And then tuck'd up somewhat below the knee
Showed searching eyes where Cupid's columns be.
The inside lined with rich carnation silk,
And in the midst of both lawn white as milk,
Which white beneath the red did seem to shroud,
As Cynthia's beauty through a blushing cloud.
About the edges curious to behold
A deep fringe hung of rich and twisted gold ;
So on the green marge of a crystal brook
A thousand yellow flowers at fishes look,
And such the beams are of the glorious sun
That through a tuft of grass dispersed run.
Upon her leg a pair of buskins white
Studded with orient pearl and chrysolite,

And, like her mantle, stitch'd with gold and green,
(Fairer yet never wore the forest's queen)
Knit close with ribands of a party hue,
A knot of crimson and a tuft of blue,
Nor can the peacock in his spotted train
So many pleasing colours show again ;
Nor could there be a mixture with more grace,
Except the heavenly roses in her face.
A silver quiver at her back she wore,
With darts and arrows for the stag and boar ;
But in her eyes she had such darts again,
Could conquer gods, and wound the hearts of men.
Her left hand held a knotty Brazil bow,
Whose strength, with tears, she made the red deer know.
So clad, so arined, so ed to win her will
Diana never trod on Latmus hill.
Walla, the fairest nymph that haunts the woods
Walla, beloved of shepherds, fauns, and floods,
Walla, for whom the frolic satyrs pine,
Walla, with whose fine foot the flowerets twine,
Walla, of whom sweet birds their ditties move,
Walla, the earth's delight, and Tavy's love.

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The song of Tavy.
As careful merchants do expecting stand

(After long time and merry gales of wind)
Upon the place where their brave ship must land,

So wait I for the vessel of my mind. Upon a great adventure is it bound

Whose safe return will valued be at more
Than all the wealthy prizes which have crowned

The golden wishes of an age before.
Out of the East jewels of wealth she brings.

Th' unvalu'd diamond of her sparkling eye
Wants in the treasure of all Europe's kings ;

And were it mine they nor their crowns should buy.

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