Eclogue
SHEPHERD. HERDMAN .
SHEPHERD .
Come, gentle herdman, sit by me,
And tune thy pipe by mine,
Here underneath this willow tree,
To shield the hot sunshine;
Where I have made my summer bower,
For proof of summer beams;
And decked it up with many a flower,
Sweet seated by the streams;
Where gentle Daphne once a day
These flow'ry banks doth walk,
And in her bosom bears away
The pride of many a stalk;
But leaves the humble heart behind,
That should her garland dight;
And she, sweet soul! the more unkind,
To set true loves so light:
But whereas others bear the bell,
As in her favour blest,
Her shepherd loveth her as well
As those whom she loves best.
HERDMAN .
Alas, poor pastor! I find
Thy love is lodged so high,
That on thy flock thou hast no mind,
But feed'st a wanton eye.
If dainty Daphne's looks besot
Thy doating heart's desire,
Be sure, that far above thy lot
Thy liking doth aspire.
To love so sweet a nymph as she,
And look for love again,
Is fortune fitting high degree,
Not for a shepherd's swain.
For she of lordly lads decoyed,
And sought of great estates;
Her favour scorns to be enjoyed
By us poor lowly mates.
Wherefore I warn thee to be wise;
Go with me to my walk,
Where lowly lasses be not nice;
There like and choose thy make;
Where are no pearls nor gold to view
No pride of silken sight,
But petticoats of scarlet hue,
Which veil the skin snow-white.
There truest lasses been to get
For love and little cost:
There sweet desire is paid his debt,
And labour seldom lost.
SHEPHERD .
No, herdman, no! thou rav'st too loud,
Our trade so vile to hold;
My weed as great a heart doth shroud,
As his that's clad in gold.
And take the truth that I thee tell,
This song fair Daphne sings,
“That Cupid will be served as well
Of shepherds as of kings.”
For proof whereof, old books record
That Venus, queen of love,
Would set aside her warlike lord,
And youthful pastors prove;
How Paris was as well beloved,
A simple shepherd's boy,
As after when that he was proved
King Priam's son of Troy.
And therefore have I better hope,
As had those lads of yore:
My courage takes as large a scope,
Although their haps were more.
And that thou shalt not deem I jest,
And bare a mind more base,
No meaner hope shall haunt my breast
Than dearest Daphne's grace.
My mind no other thought retains;
Mine eye nought else admires;
My heart no other passion strains,
Nor other hap desires.
My Muse of nothing else entreats,
My pipe nought else doth sound,
My veins no other fever heats,
Such faith's in shepherds found.
HERDMAN .
Ah! shepherd, then I see, with grief,
Thy care is past all cure;
No remedy for thy relief,
But patiently endure.
Thy wonted liberty is fled,
Fond fancy breeds thy bane,
Thy sense of folly brought abed,
Thy wit is in the wane.
I can but sorrow for thy sake,
Since love lulls thee asleep;
And whilst out of thy dream thou wake,
God shield thy straying sheep!
Thy wretched flock may rue and curse
This proud desire of thine,
Whose woeful state from bad to worse
Thy careless eye will pine.
And even as they, thyself likewise
With them shall wear and waste
To see the spring before thine eyes,
Thou thirsty canst not taste.
Content thee, therefore, with conceit,
Where others gain the grace;
And think thy fortune at the height,
To see but Daphne's face.
Although thy truth deserved well
Reward above the rest,
Thy haps shall be but means to tell
How other men are blest.
So, gentle shepherd, farewell now!
Be warned by my reed;
For I see written in thy brow,
Thy heart for love doth bleed.
Yet longer with thee would I stay,
If aught would do thee good;
But nothing can the heat allay,
Where love inflames the blood.
SHEPHERD .
Then, herdman, since it is my lot,
And my good liking such,
Strive not to break the faithful knot
That thinks no pain too much:
For what contents my Daphne best
I never will despise,
So she but wish my soul good rest
When death shall close mine eyes.
Then, herdman, farewell once again,
For now the day is fled:
So might thy cares, poor shepherd's swain,
Fly from thy careful head!
SHEPHERD .
Come, gentle herdman, sit by me,
And tune thy pipe by mine,
Here underneath this willow tree,
To shield the hot sunshine;
Where I have made my summer bower,
For proof of summer beams;
And decked it up with many a flower,
Sweet seated by the streams;
Where gentle Daphne once a day
These flow'ry banks doth walk,
And in her bosom bears away
The pride of many a stalk;
But leaves the humble heart behind,
That should her garland dight;
And she, sweet soul! the more unkind,
To set true loves so light:
But whereas others bear the bell,
As in her favour blest,
Her shepherd loveth her as well
As those whom she loves best.
HERDMAN .
Alas, poor pastor! I find
Thy love is lodged so high,
That on thy flock thou hast no mind,
But feed'st a wanton eye.
If dainty Daphne's looks besot
Thy doating heart's desire,
Be sure, that far above thy lot
Thy liking doth aspire.
To love so sweet a nymph as she,
And look for love again,
Is fortune fitting high degree,
Not for a shepherd's swain.
For she of lordly lads decoyed,
And sought of great estates;
Her favour scorns to be enjoyed
By us poor lowly mates.
Wherefore I warn thee to be wise;
Go with me to my walk,
Where lowly lasses be not nice;
There like and choose thy make;
Where are no pearls nor gold to view
No pride of silken sight,
But petticoats of scarlet hue,
Which veil the skin snow-white.
There truest lasses been to get
For love and little cost:
There sweet desire is paid his debt,
And labour seldom lost.
SHEPHERD .
No, herdman, no! thou rav'st too loud,
Our trade so vile to hold;
My weed as great a heart doth shroud,
As his that's clad in gold.
And take the truth that I thee tell,
This song fair Daphne sings,
“That Cupid will be served as well
Of shepherds as of kings.”
For proof whereof, old books record
That Venus, queen of love,
Would set aside her warlike lord,
And youthful pastors prove;
How Paris was as well beloved,
A simple shepherd's boy,
As after when that he was proved
King Priam's son of Troy.
And therefore have I better hope,
As had those lads of yore:
My courage takes as large a scope,
Although their haps were more.
And that thou shalt not deem I jest,
And bare a mind more base,
No meaner hope shall haunt my breast
Than dearest Daphne's grace.
My mind no other thought retains;
Mine eye nought else admires;
My heart no other passion strains,
Nor other hap desires.
My Muse of nothing else entreats,
My pipe nought else doth sound,
My veins no other fever heats,
Such faith's in shepherds found.
HERDMAN .
Ah! shepherd, then I see, with grief,
Thy care is past all cure;
No remedy for thy relief,
But patiently endure.
Thy wonted liberty is fled,
Fond fancy breeds thy bane,
Thy sense of folly brought abed,
Thy wit is in the wane.
I can but sorrow for thy sake,
Since love lulls thee asleep;
And whilst out of thy dream thou wake,
God shield thy straying sheep!
Thy wretched flock may rue and curse
This proud desire of thine,
Whose woeful state from bad to worse
Thy careless eye will pine.
And even as they, thyself likewise
With them shall wear and waste
To see the spring before thine eyes,
Thou thirsty canst not taste.
Content thee, therefore, with conceit,
Where others gain the grace;
And think thy fortune at the height,
To see but Daphne's face.
Although thy truth deserved well
Reward above the rest,
Thy haps shall be but means to tell
How other men are blest.
So, gentle shepherd, farewell now!
Be warned by my reed;
For I see written in thy brow,
Thy heart for love doth bleed.
Yet longer with thee would I stay,
If aught would do thee good;
But nothing can the heat allay,
Where love inflames the blood.
SHEPHERD .
Then, herdman, since it is my lot,
And my good liking such,
Strive not to break the faithful knot
That thinks no pain too much:
For what contents my Daphne best
I never will despise,
So she but wish my soul good rest
When death shall close mine eyes.
Then, herdman, farewell once again,
For now the day is fled:
So might thy cares, poor shepherd's swain,
Fly from thy careful head!
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.