Part 27 (1/2)

When Venus had done what she could In making of her carcase brave, Then Pallas thought she might be bold Among the rest a share to have; A pa.s.sing wit she did convey Into this pa.s.sing piece of clay.

Of Bacchus she no member had, Save fingers fine and feat[4] to see; Her head with hair Apollo clad, That G.o.ds had thought it gold to be: So glist'ring was the tress in sight Of this new form'd and featured wight.

Diana held her peace a s.p.a.ce, Until those other G.o.ds had done; 'At last,' quoth she, 'in Dian's chase With bow in hand this nymph shall run; And chief of all my n.o.ble train I will this virgin entertain.'

Then joyful Juno came and said, 'Since you to her so friendly are, I do appoint this n.o.ble maid To match with Mars his peer for war; She shall the Countess Warwick be, And yield Diana's bow to me.'

When to so good effect it came, And every member had his grace, There wanted nothing but a name: By hap was Mercury then in place, That said, 'I pray you all agree, Pandora grant her name to be.

'For since your G.o.dheads forged have With one a.s.sent this n.o.ble dame, And each to her a virtue gave, This term agreeth to the same.'

The G.o.ds that heard Mercurius tell This tale, did like it pa.s.sing well.

Report was summon'd then in haste, And will'd to bring his trump in hand, To blow therewith a sounding blast, That might be heard through Brutus' land.

Pandora straight the trumpet blew, That each this Countess Warwick knew.

O seely[5] Nature, born to pain, O woful, wretched kind (I say), That to forsake the soil were fain To make this Countess out of clay: But, O most friendly G.o.ds, that wold, Vouchsafe to set your hands to mould.

[1] 'Kind:' nature.

[2] 'Imps:' children.

[3] 'Wonne:' dwell.

[4] 'Feat:' neat.

[5] 'Seely:' simple.

In reference to the Miscellaneous Pieces which close this period, we need only say that the best of them is 'The Soul's Errand,' and that its authors.h.i.+p is uncertain. It has, with very little evidence in any of the cases, been ascribed to Sir Walter Raleigh, to Francis Davison, (author of a compilation ent.i.tled 'A Poetical Rhapsody,' published in 1593, and where 'The Soul's Errand' first appeared,) and to Joshua Sylvester, who prints it in his volume of verses, with vile interpolations of his own.

Its outspoken energy and pithy language render it worthy of any of our poets.

HARPALUS' COMPLAINT OF PHILLIDA'S LOVE BESTOWED ON CORIN, WHO LOVED HER NOT, AND DENIED HIM THAT LOVED HER.

1 Phillida was a fair maid, As fresh as any flower; Whom Harpalus the herdman pray'd To be his paramour.

2 Harpalus, and eke Corin, Were herdmen both yfere:[1]

And Phillida would twist and spin, And thereto sing full clear.

3 But Phillida was all too coy For Harpalus to win; For Corin was her only joy, Who forced[2] her not a pin.

4 How often would she flowers twine, How often garlands make Of cowslips and of columbine, And all for Conn's sake!

5 But Corin he had hawks to lure, And forced more the field: Of lovers' law he took no cure; For once he was beguiled.

6 Harpalus prevailed nought, His labour all was lost; For he was furthest from her thought, And yet he loved her most.

7 Therefore was he both pale and lean, And dry as clod of clay: His flesh it was consumed clean; His colour gone away.

8 His beard it not long be shave; His hair hung all unkempt: A man most fit even for the grave, Whom spiteful love had shent.[3]

9 His eyes were red, and all forwacht;[4]

It seem'd unhap had him long hatcht, His face besprent with tears: In midst of his despairs.