Whose equall length keep equall bredth, and never meet in one;
Yet for not wronging him, my thoughts, my sorrows cell,
Shall not run out, though leake they will, for liking him so well.
Farewell, sometimes enioyed ioy; eclipsed are thy beames!
Farewell selfe pleasing thoughts, which quietnes brings foorth;
And farewell friendships sacred league, uniting minds of woorth.
And all sports, which, for lives restore, varietie assignes;
Let all, that sweete is, voyd; in me no mirth may dwell: 35
Phillip, the cause of all this woe, my lives content, farewell!
And endlese griefe, which deads my life, yet knowes not how to kill.
Go, seeke that haples tombe; which if ye hap to finde
Salute the stones, that keep the lims that held so good a minde. 40
THE
TEARES OF THE MUSES.
BY ED. SP.
DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE
THE LADIE STRANGE.
1591.
TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE
THE LADIE STRANGE.
Most brave and noble ladie; the things, that make ye so much honored of the world as ye bee, are such, as (without my simple lines testimonie) are throughlie knowen to all men; namely, your excellent beautie, your vertuous behavior, and your noble match with that most honourable lord, the very paterne of right nobilitie: But the causes, for which ye have thus deserved of me to be honoured, (if honour it be at all,) are, both your particular bounties, and also some private bands of affinitie, which it hath pleased your ladiship to acknowledge. Of which whenas, I found my selfe in no part woorthie, I devised this last slender meanes, both to intimate my humble affection to your ladiship, and also to make the same universallie knowen to the world; that by honouring you they might know me, and by knowing me they might honor you. Vouchsafe, noble lady, to accept this simple remembrance, though not worthy of your self, yet such, as perhaps by good acceptance thereof, ye may hereafter cull out a more meet and memorable evidence of your owne excellent deserts. So recommending the same to your ladiships good liking, I humbly take leave.
Your La: humbly ever.
Ed. Sp.
The golden hrood of great Apolloes wit,
Those piteous plaints, and sorowfull sad tine,
Which late ye powred forth as ye did sit
Beside the silver springs of Helicone, 5
Making your musick of hart-breaking mone!
Ythundered, through loves avengefull wrath,
For traversing the charret of the sunne
Beyond the compasse of his pointed path, 10
Of you his mournfull sisters was lamented,
Such mournfull tunes were never since invented.
Her loved twinnes, the dearlings of her ioy,
Her Palici, whom her unkindly foes, 15
The fatall sisters, did for spight destroy,
Whom all the muses did bewaile long space,
Was ever heard such wayling in this place.
Of their sweete instruments were wont to sound, 20
And th' hollow hills from which their silver voyces
Were wont redoubled echoes to rebound,
Did now rebound with nought but rufull cries.
And yelling shrieks thowne up into the skies.
To romble gently downe with murmur soft, 26
And were by them right tunefull taught to beare
A bases part amongst their consorts oft;
Now, forst to overflowe with brackish teares,
With troublous noyse did dull their daintie eeres. 30
Which thether came to heare their musick sweet,
And to the measure of their melodies
Did learne to move their nimble-shifting feete;
Now, hearing them so heavily lament, 35
Like heavily lamenting from them went.
