Classic Poem

SEE , these trees so ill did hide us
That the shepherd hath espied us,
And (as jealous of his cunning)
All in haste away is running.
To entreat him back again
Would be labour spent in vain.
You may therefore now betake ye
To the music I can make ye,
Who do purpose my invention,
Shall pursue my first intention.
For in her whose worth I tell,
Many excellences dwell
Yet unmentioned, whose perfections
Worthy are of best affections.

That, which is so rare to find
Both in man and womankind;
That, whose absence love defaceth,
And both sexes more disgraceth
Than the spite of furrowed age,
Sicknesses, or sorrow's rage;
That's the jewel so divine,
Which doth on her forehead shine:
And therewith endowed is she,
In an excellent degree;
Constancy, I mean, the purest
Of all beauties, and the surest;

This, a servant made me sworn,
Who before-time, held in scorn
To yield vassalage, or duty,
Though unto the queen of beauty.
Yet, that I her servant am,
It shall more be to my fame
Than to own these woods and downs,
Or be lord of fifty towns;
And my mistress to be deemed,
Shall more honour be esteemed
Than those titles to acquire
Which most women most desire.
Yea, when you a woman shall
Countess or a duchess call,
That respect it shall not move,
Neither gain her half such love
As to say, lo! this is she
That supposed is to be
Mistress to Phil'arete,
And that lovely nymph, which he,
In a pastoral poem famed,
And Fair Virtue there hath named.
Yea, some ladies (ten to one)
If not many now unknown,
Will be very well apaid
When by chance she hears it said,
She, that fair one is, whom I
Here have praised concealedly.

And, though now this age's pride
May so brave a hope deride;
Yet, when all their glories pass
As the thing that never was,
And on monuments appear,
That they e'er had breathing here,
Who envy it; she shall thrive
In her fame, and honoured live,
Whilst Great Britain's shepherds sing
English in their sonneting.
And whoe'er in future days
Shall bestow the utmost praise
On his love that any man
Attribute to creature can,
'Twill be this, that he hath dared
His and mine to have compared.

O what stars did shine on me,
When her eyes I first did see!
And how good was their aspect,
When we first did both affect!
For, I never since to changing
Was inclined, or thought of ranging.

Me so oft my fancy drew
Here and there, that I ne'er knew
Where to place desire before
So that range it might no more
But, as he that passeth by
Where, in all her jollity.
Flora's riches in a row
Doth in seemly order grow,
And a thousand flowers stand
Bending, as to kiss his hand;
Out of which delightful store
One he may take, and no more.
Long he pausing, doubteth whether
Of those fair ones he should gather.

First, the primrose courts his eyes,
Then the cowslip he espies;
Next the pansy seems to woo him,
Then carnations bow unto him;
Which, whilst that enamoured swain
From the stalk intends to strain,
As half-fearing to be seen
Prettily her leaves between
Peeps the violet, pale, to see
That her virtues slighted be;
Which so much his liking wins,
That to seize her he begins.
Yet, before he stooped so low,
He his wanton eye did throw
On a stem that grew more high,
And the rose did there espy,
Who, besides her precious scent
To procure his eyes content,
Did display her goodly breast,
Where he found at full exprest
All the good that nature showers
On a thousand other flowers.
Wherewith he, affected, takes it;
His beloved flower he makes it,
And, without desire of more,
Walks through all he saw before.

So I, wandering but erewhile,
Through the garden of this isle,
Saw rich beauties I confess,
And in number, numberless.
Yea, so differing lovely too,
That I had a world to do
Ere I could set up my rest,
Where to choose and choose the best.

One I saw, whose hair excelled,
On another's brow there dwelled
Such a majesty, it seemed
She was best to be esteemed.

This had with her speeches won me;
That with silence had undone me.
On her lips the graces hung;
The other charmed me with her tongue.
In her eyes a third did bear,
That which did anew ensnare.
Then a fourth did fairer show;
Yet wherein I did not know,
Only this perceived I,
Somewhat pleased my fantasy.
Now the Wealth I most esteemed;
Honour then I better deemed;
Next the love of Beauty seized me,
And then Virtue better pleased me.
Juno's love I nought esteemed,
Whilst a Venus fairer seemed;
Nay, both could not me suffice,
Whilst a Pallas was more wise.
Though I found enough in one
To content if still alone.

Amarillis I did woo,
And I courted Phillis too;
Daphne, for her love, I chose;
Cloris, for that damask rose
In her cheek, I held as dear;
Yea, a thousand liked well near.
And, in love with all together,
Feared the enjoving either;
'Cause to be of one possest,
Barred the hope of all the rest.

Thus I fondly feared, till fate,
Which (I must confess in that
Did a greater favour to me
Than the world can malice do me)
Showed to me that matchless flower,
Subject for this song of our.
Whose perfection having eyed,
Reason instantly espied
That desire (which ranged abroad)
There would find a period.
And no marvel if it might,
For it there hath all delight,
And in her hath nature placed
What each several fair one graced.

Nor am I alone delighted
With those graces all united,
Which the sense's eye doth find
Scattered throughout womankind;
But my reason finds perfections
To inflame my soul's affections,
Yea, such virtues she possesseth,
As with firmest pleasures blesseth;
And keeps sound that beauty's state,
Which would else grow ruinate.

In this flower are sweets such store,
I shall never wish for more;
Nor be tempted out to strav
For the fairest buds in May.

Let who list (for me) advance
The admired flowers of France;
Let who will praise and behold
The reserved marigold;
Let the sweet-breathed violet now,
Unto whom she pleaseth, bow;
And the fairest lily spread,
Where she will, her golden head:
I have such a flower to wear
That for those I do not care.

Never shall my fancy range,
Nor once think again of change;
Never will I, never more,
Grieve or sigh, as heretofore;
Nor within the lodgings lie
Of despair or jealousy.

Let the young and happy swains,
Playing on the Britain plains,
Court unblamed their shepherdesses,
And with their gold curled tresses,
Toy uncensured until I
Grudge at their prosperity.

Let all times, both present, past,
And the age that shall be last,
Vaunt the beauties they bring forth.
I have found in one such worth,
That, content, I neither care
What the best before me were;
Nor desire to live and see
Who shall fair hereafter be.
For I know the hand of nature
Will not make a fairer creature.

Which, because succeeding days
Shall confess, and add their praise
In approving, what my tongue,
Ere they had their being, sung:
Once again, come, lend an ear,
And a rapture you shall hear
(Though I taste no Thespian spring),
Will amaze you, whilst I sing.
I do feel new strains inspiring,
And to such brave heights aspiring,
That my Muse will touch a key
Higher than you heard to-day.

I have beauties to unfold
That deserve a pen of gold;
Sweets that never dreamed of were;
Things unknown, and such as ear
Never heard a measure sound,
Since the sun first ran his round.

When Apelles, limned to life
Loathed Vulcan's lovely wife,
With such beauties he did trim
Each sweet feature, and each limb,
And so curiously did place
Every well-becoming grace,
That 'twas said, ere he could draw
Such a piece, he naked saw
Many women in their prime,
And the fairest of that time,
From all which he parts did take,
Which aright disposed, make
Perfect beauty. So, when you
Know what I have yet to show,
It will seem to pass so far
Those things that expressed are.
That you will suppose I've been
Privileged, where I have seen
All the good that's spread in parts.
Through a thousand women's hearts,
With their fair'st conditions lie
Bare, without hypocrisy;
And that I have took from thence
Each dispersed excellence,
To express her who hath gained
More than ever one obtained.

And yet, soft! I fear in vain
I have boasted such a strain;
Apprehensions ever are
Greater than expression far.
And my striving to disclose
What I know, hath made me lose
My invention's better part;
And my hopes exceed my art.

Speak I can, yet think I more;
Words, compared with thoughts, are poor,
And I find, had I begun
Such a strain, it would be done
When we number all the sands
Washed o'er perjured Goodwin's lands;
For of things I should indite,
Which I know are infinite.
I do yield; my thoughts did climb
Far above the power of rhyme;
And no wonder it is so,
Since there is no art can show
Red in roses, white in snow;
Nor express how they do grow.
Yea, since bird, beast, stone, and tree
(That inferior creatures be)
Beauties have, which we confess,
Lines unable to express;
They more hardly can enroll
Those that do adorn a soul.
But, suppose my measures could
Reach the height I thought they would,
Now relate I would not, though,
What did swell within me so.
For if I should all descry,
You would know as much as I;
And those clowns the Muses hate
Would of things above them prate,
Or with their profaning eyes
Come to view those mysteries
Whereof (since they disesteemed them)
Heaven hath unworthy deemed them.

And, beside, it'seems to me
That your ears nigh tired be.
I perceive, the fire that charmeth
And inspireth me, scarce warmeth
Your chill hearts. Nay, sure were I
Melted into poesy,
I should not a measure hit,
(Though Apollo prompted it)
Which would able be to leave
That in you which I conceive.

You are cold, and here I may
Waste my vital heat away,
Ere you will be moved so much
As to feel one perfect touch
Of those sweets which, yet concealed,
Swell my breast to be revealed.

Now my words I therefore cease,
That my mounting thoughts, in peace,
May alone those pleasures share
Whereof lines unworthy are.
And so you an end do see
Of my song; though long it be.