Classic Poem

After the bear's just death the quick'ning sun
Had twice six times about the zodiac run,
And (as respectless) never cast an eye
Upon the night-enveil'd Cimmerii,
When this brave swain, approved valorous,
In opposition of a tyrannous
And bloody savage being long time gone,
Quelling his rage with faithless Gerion,
Returned from the stratagems of wars,
Enriched with his quail'd foes' bootless scars,
To see the clear eyes of his dearest love,
And that her skill in herbs might help remove
The freshing of a wound which he had got
In her defence by Envy's poison'd shot,
And coming through a grove wherein his fair
Lay with her breasts display'd to take the air,
His rushing through the boughs made her arise,
And dreading some wild beast's rude enterprise,
Directs towards the noise a sharpen'd dart,
That reach'd the life of his undaunted heart,
Which when she knew, twice twenty moons nigh spent
In tears for him, and died in languishment.
Within an arbour shadow'd with a vine,
Mixed with rosemary and eglantine,
A shepherdess was set, as fair as young,
Whose praise full many a shepherd whilom sung,
Who on an altar fair had to her name,
In consecration, many an anagram:
And when with sugar'd strains they strove to raise
Worth to a garland of immortal bays,
She as the learned'st maid was chose by them,
Her flaxen hair crown'd with an anadem,
To judge who best deserv'd, for she could fit
The height of praise unto the height of wit.
But, well-a-day! those happy times were gone:
Millions admit a small subtraction.
And as the year hath first his jocund spring,
Wherein the leaves, to birds' sweet carolling,
Dance with the wind; then sees the summer's day
Perfect the embryon blossom of each spray;
Next cometh autumn, when the threshed sheaf
Loseth his grain, and every tree his leaf;
Lastly, cold winter's rage, with many a storm,
Threats the proud pines which Ida's top adorn,
And makes the sap leave succourless the shoot,
Shrinking to comfort his decaying root:
Or, as a quaint musician being won
To run a point of sweet division,
Gets by degrees unto the highest key;
Then, with like order, falleth in his play
Into a deeper tone; and lastly, throws
His period in a diapason close:
So every human thing terrestrial,
His utmost height attain'd, bends to his fall.
And as a comely youth, in fairest age,
Enamour'd on a maid, whose parentage
Had Fate adorn'd, as Nature deck'd her eye,
Might at a beck command a monarchy,
But poor and fair could never yet bewitch
A miser's mind, preferring foul and rich,
And therefore, as a king's heart left behind,
When as his corps are borne to be enshrin'd,
(His parents' will, a law) like that dead corse,
Leaving his heart, is brought unto his horse,
Carried unto a place that can impart
No secret embassy unto his heart,
Climbs some proud bill, whose stately eminence
Vassals the fruitful vale's circumference:
From whence, no sooner can his lights descry
The place enriched by his mistress' eye,
But some thick cloud his happy prospect blends,
And he in sorrow rais'd, in tears descends:
So this sad nymph (whom all commiserate)
Once pac'd the hill of greatness and of state,
And got the top; but when she 'gan address
Her sight, from thence to see true happiness,
Fate interpos'd an envious cloud of fears,
And she withdrew into this vale of tears,
Where Sorrow so enthrall'd best Virtue's jewel,
Stones check'd Grief's hardness, call'd her too, too cruel.
A stream of tears upon her fair cheeks flows,
As morning dew upon the damask rose,
Or crystal glass veiling vermilion,
Or drops of milk on the carnation:
She sang and wept (O ye sea-binding cleeves,
Yield tributary drops, for Virtue grieves!)
And to the period of her sad sweet key
Intwinn'd her case with chaste Penelope.
But see, the drizzling south my mournful strain
Answers in weeping drops of quick'ning rain;
And since this day we can no further go,
Restless I rest within this vale of woe,
Until the modest Morn on Earth's vast zone
The ever gladsome Day shall re-enthrone.