Page:Metamorphoses (Ovid, 1567).djvu/41

 As to Diana here tofore hir father freely gave. Thy father (Daphne) could consent to that thou doest require, But that thy beautie and thy forme impugne thy chaste desire: So that thy will and his consent are nothing in this case, By reason of the beautie bright that shineth in thy face. Apollo loves and longs to have this Daphne to his Feere, And as he longs he hopes, but his foredoomes doe fayle him there. And as light hame when corne is reapt, or hedges burne with brandes, That passers by when day drawes neere throwe loosely fro their handes, So into flames the God is gone and burneth in his brest And feedes his vaine and barraine love in hoping for the best. Hir haire unkembd about hir necke downe flaring did he see, O Lord and were they trimd (quoth he) how seemely would she bee? He sees hir eyes as bright as fire the starres to represent, He sees hir mouth which to have seene he holdes him not content. Hir lillie armes mid part and more above the elbow bare, Hir handes, hir fingers and hir wrystes, him thought of beautie rare. And sure he thought such other parts as garments then did hyde, Excelled greatly all the rest the which he had espyde. But swifter than the whyrling winde shee flees and will not stay, To give the hearing to these wordes the which he had to say: I pray thee Nymph Penaeis stay, I chase not as a fo: Stay Nymph: the Lambes so flee the Wolves, the Stags the Lions so. With flittring feathers sielie Doves so from the Gossehauke flie, And every creature from his foe. Love is the cause that I Do followe thee: alas alas how would it grieve my heart, To see thee fall among the briers, and that the bloud should start Out of thy tender legges, I, wretch, the causer of thy smart. The place is rough to which thou runst, take leysure I thee pray, Abate thy flight, and I my selfe my running pace will stay. Yet would I wishe thee take advise, and wisely for to viewe What one he is that for thy grace in humble wise doth sewe. I am not one that dwelles among the hilles and stonie rockes, I am no sheepehearde with a Curre, attending on the flockes: I am no Carle nor countrie Clowne, nor neathearde taking charge Of cattle grazing here and there within this Forrest large. Thou doest not know, poore simple soule, God wote thou dost not knowe,