Page:Works of Edmund Spenser - 1857.djvu/392

358 :“More eath (quoth he) it is in such a case How to begin, then know how to liave donne. For everie gift, and everie goodly meed, Which she on me bestowd, demaunds a day; And everie day, in which she did a deed, Demaunds a veare it duly to display. Her words were like a streame of bonny fleeting, The which doth softly trickle from the hive: Hable to melt the hearers heart unweeting, And eke to make the dead againe alive. Her deeds were like great clusters of ripe grapes, Which load the bunches of the fruitfull vine; Offring to fall into each mouth that gapes, And fill the same with store of timely wine. Her lookes were like beames of the morning sun, Forth looking through the windowes of the east, When first the fleecie cattell have begun Upon the perled grasse to make their feast. Her thoughts are like the fume of franckincence, Which from a golden censer forth doth rise, And throwing forth sweet odours mounts fro thence In rolling globes up to the vaulted skies. There she beholds, with high aspiring thought, The cradle of her owne creation, Emongst the seats of angels heavenly wrought, Much like an angell in all forme and fashion.”
 * “Colin, (said Cuddy then) thou hast forgot

Tliy selfe, me seemes, too much, to mount so hie: Such loftie flight base shepheard seemeth not, From flocks and fields, to angels and to skie.”
 * “True (answered he) but her great excellence,

Lifts me above the measure of my might That being fild with furious insolence, I feele my selfe like one yrapt in spright For when I thinke of her, as oft I ought, Then want I words to speake it fitly forth And, when I speake of her what I have thought, I cannot thinke according to her worth. Yet will I thinke of her, yet will I speake, So long as life my limbs doth hold together, And, when as death these vitall bands shall breake, Her name recorded I will leave for ever. Her name in every tree I will endosse, That, as the trees do grow, her name may grow: And in the ground each where will it engrosse, And fill with stones, that all men may it know. The speaking woods, and murmuring waters fall, Her name He teach in knowen termes to frame: And eke my lambs, when for their dams they call, He leach to call for Cynthia by name. And, long while after I am dead and rotten, Amongst the shepheards daughters dancing rownd, My layes made of her shall not be forgotten, But sung by them with flowry gyrlonds crownd. And ye, who so ye he, that shall survive, When as ye her memory renewed, Be witnesse of her bountie here alive, Which she to Colin her poore shepheard shewed.”
 * Much was the whole assembly of those heards

Moov’d at his speech, so feelingly he spake: And stood awhile astonisht at his words, Till Thestylis at last their silence brake, Saying: “Why Colin, since thou foundst such grace With Cynthia and all her noble crew; Why didst thou ever leave that happie place, In which such wealth might unto thee accrew; And back returnedst to this baraein soyle, Where cold and care and penury do dwell, Here to keep sheepe, with hunger and with toyle? Most wretched he, that is and cannot tell.”
 * “Happie indeed (said Colin) I him hold,

That may that blessed presence still enioy, Of fortune and of envy uncomptrold, Which still are wont most happie states t’ annoy: But I, by that which little while I prooved, Some part of those enormities did see, The which in court continually hooved, And followd those which happie seemd to bee. Therefore I, silly man, whose former dayes Had in rude fields bene altogether spent, Durst not adventure such unknowen wayes, Nor trust the guile of fortunes blandishment; But rather chose back to my sheep to tonrne, Whose utmost hardnesse I before had tryde, Then, having learnd repentance late, to mourne Emongst those wretches which I there descryde.”
 * “Shepheard, (said Thestylis) it seems of spight

Thou speakest thus gainst their felicitie, Which thou envíest, rather then of right That ought in them blameworthie thou doest spie.”
 * “Cause have I none (quoth he) of cancred will

To quite them ill, that me demeand so well: But selfe-regard of private good or ill Moves me of each, so as I found, to tell And eke to warne yong shepheards wandring wit, Which, through report of that lives painted blisse, Abandon quiet home to seeke for it, And leave their lambes to losse misled amisse. For, sooth to say, it is no sort of life, For shepheard fit to lead in that same place, Where each one seeks with malice, and with strife, To thrust downe other into foule disgrace, Himselfe to raise: and he doth soonest rise That best can handle his deceitfull wit In subtil shifts, and finest sleights devise, Either by slaundring his well-deemed name, Through leasings lewd, and fained forgerie; Or else by breeding him some blot of blame, By creeping close into his secrecie; To which him needs a guilefull hollow hart, Masked with faire dissembling curtesie, A filed toung, furnisht with tearmes of art, No art of schoole, but courtiers schoolery. For arts of schoole have there small countenance, Counted but toyes to busie ydle braines; And there professours find small maintenance, But to be instruments of others gaines. Ne is there place for any gentle wit, Unlesse, to please, it selfe it can applie; But shouldred is, or out of doore quite shyt, As base, or blunt, unmeet for melodie. For each mans worth is measured by his weed, As harts by hornes, or asses by their eares: Yet asses been not all whose eares exceed, Nor yet all harts that homes the highest beares. For highest lookes have not the highest mynd, Nor haughtie words most full of highest thoughts But are like bladders blowen up with wynd, That being prickt do vanish into noughts. Even such is all their vaunted vanitie, Nought else but smoke, that fumeth soone away; Such is their glorie that in simple eie Seeme greatest, when their garments are most gay. So they themselves for praise of fooles do sell. And all their wealth for painting on a wall; With price whereof they buy a golden bell. And purchase highest rowmes in bowre and hall: Whiles single Truth and simple Honestie Do wander up and downe despys’d of all; Their plaine attire such glorious gallantry Disdaines so much, that none them in doth call.”