Who shall me pittie, when thou doest me wrong?”
Then gan a gentle bonylasse to speake,
That Marin hight; “Right well he sure did plaine,
That could great Cynthiaes sore displeasure breake,
But tell on further, Colin, as befell
Twixt him and thee, that thee did hence dissuade.”
“When thus our pipes we both had wearied well,
(Quoth he) and each an end of singing made,
And great dislyking to my lucklesse lot,
That banisht had my selfe, like wight forlore,
Into that waste, where I was quite forgot.
The which to leave, thenceforth he counseld mee,
And wend with him, his Cynthia to see;
Whose grace was great, and bounty most rewardfull.
Besides her peerlesse skill in making well,
And all the ornaments of wondrous wit,
Such as the world admyr’d, and praised it:
So what with hope of good, and hate of ill,
He me perswaded forth with him to fare.
Nought tooke I with me, but mine oaten quill:
So to the sea we came; the sea, that is
A world of waters heaped up on hie,
Rolling like mountaines in wide wildernesse.
Horrible, hideous, roaring with hoarse crie.”
“Fearful much more (quoth he) then hart can fear:
Thousand wyld beasts with deep mouthes gaping direfull
Therin stil wait poore passengers to teare.
Who life doth loath, and longs death to behold,
And yet would live with heart halfe stonie cold,
Let him to sea, and he shall see it there.
And yet as ghastly dreadfull, as it seemes,
Bold men, presuming life for gaine to sell,
Seek waies unknowne, waies leading down to hell.
For, as we stood there waiting on the strond,
Behold, an huge great vessell to us came,
Dauncing upon the waters back to lond,
Yet was it but a wooden frame and fraile,
Glewed togither with some subtile matter.
Yet had it amies and wings, and head and taile,
And life to move it selfe upon the water.
That neither car’d for wynd, nor haile, nor raine,
Nor swelling waves, bur thorough them did passe
So proudly, that she made them roare againe.
The same aboord us gently did receave,
So farre that land, our mother, us did leave,
And nought but sea and heaven to us appeare.
Then hartelesse quite, and full of inward feare,
That shepheard I besought to me to tell,
In which I saw no living people dwell.
Who, me recomforting all that he might,
Told me that that same was the regiment
Of a great shepheardesse, that Cynthia hight,
“If then (quoth I) a shepheardesse she bee,
Where be the flockes and heards, which she doth keep?
And where may I the hills and pastures see,
On which she useth for to feed her sheepe?”
On which faire Cynthia her heards doth feed:
Her heards be thousand fishes with their frie,
Which in the bosome of the billowes breed.
Of them the shepheard which hath charge in chief,
At sound whereof, they all for their relief
Wend too and fro at evening and at morne.
And Proteus eke with him does drive his heard
Of stinking scales and porcpisces together,
Compelling them which way he list, and whether.
And, I among the rest, of many least,
Have in the Ocean charge to me assignd;
Where I will live or die at her beheast,
Besides an hundred nymphs all heavenly borne,
And of immortall race, doo still attend
To wash faire Cynthiaes sheep, when they be shorne,
And fold them up, when they have made an end.
At sea, beside a thousand more at land:
For land and sea my Cynthia doth deserve
To have in her commandëment at hand.”
Thereat I wondred much, till, wondring more
Which sight much gladed me; for much afore
I feard, least land we never should have eyde:
Thereto our ship her course directly bent,
As if the way she perfectly had knowne.
An island, which the first to west was showne.
From thence another world of land we kend,
Floting amid the sea in ieopardie,
And round about with mightie while rocks hemd,
Those same, the shepheard told me, were the fields
In which dame Cynthia her landheards fed;
Faire goodly fields, then which Armulla yields
None fairer, nor more fruitfull to be red,
An high headland thrust far into the sea,
Like to an home, whereof the name it has,
Yet seemd to be a goodly pleasant lea:
There did a loftie mount at first us greet,
That seemd amid the surges for to fleet,
Much greater then that frame, which us did beare;
There did our ship her fruitfull wombe unlade,
And put us all ashore on Cynthias land.
And is there other then whereon we stand?”
“All! Cuddy (then quoth Colin) thous a fen,
That hast not seene least part of natures worke:
Much more there is unkend then thou doest kon,
For that same land much larger is than this,
And other men and beasts and birds doth feed:
There fruitfull corne, faire trees, fresh herbage is,
And all things else that living creatures need.
No whit inferiour thy Fanchins praise,
Or unto Allo, or to Mulla cleare:
Nought hast thou, foolish boy, seene in thy dales.”
“But if that land be there (quoth he) as here,
And, if like heaven, be heavenly graces there,
Like as in this same world where we do wone?”
“Both heaven and heavenly graces do much more
(Quoth he) abound in that same then this.
