Classic Poem

Half way the hill, near to those aged trees,
Whose insides are as hives for lab'ring bees,
(As who should say, before their roots were dead,
For good work's sake and alms they harboured
Those whom nought else did cover but the skies:)
A path, untrodden but of beasts, there lies,
Directing to a cave in yonder glade,
Where all this forest's citizens for shade
At noon-time come, and are the first, I think,
That (running through that cave) my waters drink:
Within this rock there sits a woful wight,
As void of comfort as that cave of light;
And as I wot, occasion'd by the frowns
Of some coy shepherdess that haunts these downs.
This I do know (whos'ever wrought his care)
He is a man nigh treading to despair.
Then hie thee thither, since 'tis charity
To save a man; leave here thy flock with me:
For whilst thou sav'st him from the Stygian bay,
I'll keep thy lambkins from all beasts of prey.
The nearness of the danger (in his thought)
As it doth ever, more compassion wrought:
So that, with reverence to the nymph, he went
With winged speed, and hasten'd to prevent
Th' untimely seizure of the greedy grave.
Breathless, at last, he came into the cave,
Where, by a sigh directed to the man,
To comfort him he in this sort began:
Shepherd, all hail! what mean these plaints? this cave
(Th' image of death, true portrait of the grave)
Why dost frequent? and wail thee underground
From whence there never yet was pity found?
Come forth, and show thyself unto the light,
Thy grief to me. If there be ought that might
Give any ease unto thy troubled mind,
We joy as much to give, as thou to find.
The love-sick swain replied: Remond, thou art
The man alone to whom I would impart
My woes more willing than to any swain,
That lives and feeds his sheep upon the plain.
But vain it is, and 'twould increase my woes
By their relation, or to thee or those
That cannot remedy. Let it suffice,
No fond distrust of thee makes me precise
To show my grief. Leave me then, and forego
This cave more sad since I have made it so.
Here tears broke forth, and Remond 'gan anew
With such entreaties, earnest to pursue
His former suit, that he (though hardly) wan
The shepherd to disclose, and thus began:
Know briefly, Remond, then, a heavenly face,
Nature's idea, and perfection's grace,
Within my breast hath kindled such a fire,
That doth consume all things, except desire;
Which daily doth increase, though always burning,
And I want tears, but lack no cause of mourning.
" For he whom love under his colours draws,
May often want th' effect, but ne'er the cause. "
Quoth th' other, have thy stars malign been such,
That their predominations sway so much
Over the rest, that with a mild aspect
The lives and loves of shepherds do affect?
Then do I think there is some greater hand,
Which thy endeavours still doth countermand:
Wherefore I wish thee quench the flame, thus mov'd,
" And never love except thou be belov'd.
For such an humour every woman seizeth,
She loves not him that plaineth, but that pleaseth.
When much thou lovest, most disdain comes on thee;
And when thou think'st to hold her, she flies from thee:
She follow'd, flies; she fled from follows post,
And loveth best where she is hated most.
'Tis ever noted both in maids and wives,
Their hearts and tongues are never relatives.
Hearts full of holes (so elder shepherds sain)
Are apter to receive than to retain. "
Whose crafts and wiles did I intend to show,
This day would not permit me time, I know:
The day's swift horses would their course have run,
And div'd themselves within the ocean,
Ere I should have performed half my task,
Striving their crafty subtleties t'unmask.
And, gentle swain, some counsel take of me;
Love not still where thou may'st; love, who loves thee;
Draw to the courteous, fly thy love's abhorrer,
" And if she be not for thee, be not for her. "
If that she still be wavering, will away,
Why shouldst thou strive to hold that will not stay?
This maxim reason never can confute,
" Better to live by loss than die by suit. "
If to some other love she is inclin'd,
Time will at length clean root that from her mind.
Time will extinct love's flames, his hell-like flashes,
And like a burning brand consume 't to ashes,.
Yet may'st thou still attend, but not importune:
" Who seeks oft misseth, sleepers light on fortune, "
Yea, and on women too. " Thus doltish sots
Have Fate and fairest women for their lots.
Favour and pity wait on patience: "
And hatred oft attendeth violence.
If thou wilt get desire whence love hath pawn'd it,
Believe me, take thy time, but ne'er demand it.
Women, as well as men, retain desire;
But can dissemble, more than men, their fire.
Be never caught with looks, nor self-wrought rumour;
Nor by a quaint disguise, nor singing humour.
Those outside shows are toys which outwards snare,
But virtue lodg'd within is only fair.
If thou hast seen the beauty of our nation,
And find'st her have no love, have thou no passion:
But seek thou further; other places sure
May yield a face as fair, a love more pure:
Leave, O then leave, fond swain, this idle course,
For Love's a god no mortal wight can force.