Scotish Descriptive Poems/Fowler's Poems/The Isle of Love

by William Fowler

THE ISLE OF LOVE.

—Beyond where that Egean sea
 Does sigh and mourn so oft,
There lies an isle delectable,
 More pleasant, plain, and soft,

Than any other isle that is
 Both wet and washed with sea,
Or warmed with the funny beams,
 Or yet inflamed be.

In midst thereof there is a hill
 Of shadow full and green,
With favour sweet, and fragrant scent,
 With water sweet and clean;

Whose virtue is, and whole office,
 To take out of the mind
All sad and pensive blots and marks,
 That has with grief it pined.

This is the land wherewith so much
 Fair Venus is content,
Which consecrat was to that queen,
 That time, by men's consent,

While as the truth was lying hid,
 And veritie unknown,
And Christ his incarnation
 Was not revealed nor known.

And yet albeit this day it be
 Of virtue lean and bare,
Yet does it hold, and it retains
 Some customs keeped there—.

There then triumphed over us
 That sovereign gentle lord,
And carried at his golden chair
 There coupled in a cord.

These whom he took in circling so
 The world round about,
Even from the Indes to Thule isle,
 The westmost part without—.

There roses gathered in that time
 When winter's blast does boast;
There ice even in the hottest days;
 At midsummer, there frost.—

The valley where this triumph was
 With murmurs did abound,
Of waters, brooks, of birds and fowls,
 That gave a clamorous sound:

Whose banks were all embroidered
 With flowers of variant hue,
Some red, some green, and some again
 Red, yellow, and some blue.

And there besides, clear rivers from
 So lively fountains ran,
Where then upon the cold fresh herbs
 The sun to shine began.

There also was a shadow thick
 Of trees both high and fair,
Out of the which there did come out
 A sweet and breathing air.

And after, when the winter tide
 Does make the season cold,
Yet there the sun so does his flames
 Most temperately unfold;

And so does make the place and ground,
 And meats, almost lew-warm,
That there an idleness all slow,
 Does simple hearts encharm.—