When Phoebus with Europa's bearer bides,
The spring appears; impatient of delays,
The labourer to the fields his plough-swains guides,
He sows, he plants, he builds, at all assays:
When prime of years that many errors hides,
By fancy's force did trace ungodly ways,
I blindfold walk'd, disdaining to behold
That life doth vade,* and young men must be old.
When in the hold, whereas the Twins do rest,
Proud Phlegon, breathing fire, doth post amain,
The trees with leaves, the earth with flowers is drest:
When I in pride of years, with peevish brain,
Presum'd too far, and made fond love my guest,
With frosts of care my flowers were nipt amain : In height of weal who bears a careless heart, Repents too late his over-foolish part.
When in æstival Cancer's gloomy bower
The greater glory of the heavens doth shine,
The air is calm, the birds at every stowre+
Do tempt the heavens with harmony divine:
When I was first enthrall'd in Cupid's power,
In vain I spent the May-month of my time, Singing for joy to see me captive thrall
To him, whose gains are grief, whose comfort small.
When in the height of his meridian walk,
The Lion's hold contains the eye of day,
The riping corn grows yellow in the stalk:
When strength of years did bless me every way,
Mask'd with delights of folly was my talk,
Youth ripen'd all my thoughts to my decay;
In lust I sow'd, my fruit was loss of time;
My hopes were proud, and yet my body slime.*
When in the Virgin's lap earth's comfort sleeps,
Bating the fury of his burning eyes,
Both corn and fruits are firm'd, and comfort creeps
On every plant and flower that springing rise :
When age at last his chief dominion keeps,
And leads me on to see my vanities,
What love and scant foresight did make me sow,
In youthful years is ripened now in woe.
When in the Balance Daphne's leman blins,†
The ploughman gathereth fruit for passed pain:
When I at last consider'd on my sins,
And thought upon my youth and follies vain,
I cast my count, and reason now begins
To guide mine eyes with judgment, bought with pain, Which weeping wish a better way to find,
Or else for ever to the world be blind.
slime] i. e. I suppose, slim, so written for the rhyme. +blins] i. e. stops.
When with the Scorpion proud Apollo plays,
The wines are trod and carried to their press,
The woods are fell'd 'gainst winter's sharp affrays:
When graver years my judgments did address,
I 'gan repair my ruins and decays,
Exchanging will to wit and soothfastness,
Claiming from time and age no good but this,
To see my sin, and sorrow for my miss.
Whenas the Archer in his winter hold,
The Delian harper tunes his wonted love,
The ploughman sows and tills his labour'd mould :
When with advice and judgment I approve
How love in youth hath grief for gladness sold,
The seeds of shame I from my heart remove,
And in their steads I set down plants of grace,
And with repent bewail'd my youthful race.
When he that in Eurotas' silver glide
Doth bain his tress, beholdeth Capricorn,
The days grow
* short, then hastes the winter tide;
The sun with sparing lights doth seem to mourn ;
Gray is the green, the flowers their beauty hide :†
Whenas I see that I to death was born,
My strength decay'd, my grave already drest,
life my loss, my death my
grow] The 4to. "growes."
t hide] The 4to. "hides."
When with Aquarius Phoebe's brother stays,
The blithe and wanton winds are whist and still;
Cold frost and snow the pride of earth betrays:
When age my head with hoary hairs doth fill,
Reason sits down, and bids me count my days,
And pray for peace, and blame my froward will;
In depth of grief, in this distress I cry,
Peccavi, Domine, miserere mei!
When in the Fishes' mansion Phoebus dwells,
The days renew, the earth regains his rest:
When old in years, my want my death foretells,
My thoughts and prayers to heaven are whole ad-
drest;
Repentance youth by folly quite expells;
I long to be dissolved for my best,
That young in zeal long beaten with my rod
may grow old to wisdom and to God.
FROM THE MOURNING GARMENT.
THE DESCRIPTION OF THE SHEPHERD AND HIS WIFE.
It was near a thicky shade,
That broad leaves of beech had made,
Joining all their tops so nigh,
That scarce Phoebus in could
To see if lovers in the thick
Could dally with a wanton trick;
Where sate the swain and his wife,
Sporting in that pleasing life,
That Coridon commendeth so,
All other lives to overgo.
He and she did sit and keep
Flocks of kids and folds of sheep:
He upon his pipe did play;
She tun'd voice unto his lay,
And, for you might her huswife know,
Voice did sing and fingers sew.
He was young: his coat was green,
With welts of white seam'd between,
Turned over with a flap,
That breast and bosom in did wrap,
Skirts side and plighted free,
Seemly hanging to his knee:
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