The Works of Edmund Spenser/The Teares of the Muses
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.
Rehearse to me, ye sacred sisters nine.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, 5Making your musick of hart-breaking mone!
For since the time that Phœbus foolish sonne, Ythundered, through loves avengefull wrath,For traversing the charret of the sunne Beyond the compasse of his pointed path, 10Of you his mournfull sisters was lamented, Such mournfull tunes were never since invented.
Nor since that faire Calliope did lose Her loved twinnes, the dearlings of her ioy, Her Palici, whom her unkindly foes, 15The fatall sisters, did for spight destroy,Whom all the muses did bewaile long space, Was ever heard such wayling in this place.
For all their groves, which with the heavenly noyses 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.
The trembling streames which wont in channels cleareTo romble gently downe with murmur soft, 26And 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
The ioyous nymphes and lightfoote faëriesWhich thether came to heare their musick sweet,And to the measure of their melodiesDid learne to move their nimble-shifting feete;Now, hearing them so heavily lament, 35Like heavily lamenting from them went.
And all that els was wont to worke delight Through the divine infusion of their skill, And all that els seemd faire and fresh in sight, So made by nature for to serve their will, 40Was turned now to dismall heavinesse,Was turned now to dreadful uglinesse.
Ay me! what thing on earth that all thing breeds, Might be the cause of so impatient plight?What furie, or what feend, with felon deeds 45 Hath stirred up so mischievous despight?Can griefe then enter into heavenly harts, And pierce immortall breasts with mortall smarts?
Vouchsafe ye then, whom onely it concernes, To me those secret causes to display; 50For none but you, or who of you it learnes, Can rightfully aread so dolefull lay.Begin, thou eldest sister of the crew,And let the rest in order thee ensew.
Clio.Heare thou great father of the gods on hie, 55 That most art dreaded for thy thunder darts;And thou our sire, that raignst in CastalieAnd Mount Parnasse, the god of goodly arts: Heare, and behold the miserable stateOf us thy daughters, doleful desolate. 60
Behold the fowle reproach and open shame, The which is day by day unto us wroughtBy such as hate the honour of our name,The foes of learning and teach gentle thought; They, not contented us themselves to scorne, 65Doo seeke to make us of the world forlorne.
Ne onely they that dwell in lowly dust,The sonnes of darknes and of ignoraunce;But they, whom thou, great love, by doome uniust Didst to the type of honour earst advaunce; 70 They now, puft up with sdeignfull insolence, Despise the brood of blessed sapience.
The sectaries of my celestiall skill,That wont to be the worlds chiefe ornament, And learned impes that wont to shoote up still, 75And grow to height of kingdomes government, They underkeep, and with their spreading armes Do beat their huds, that perish through their harmes.
It most behoves the honorable raceOf mightie peeres true wisedome to sustaine, 80And with their noble countenaunce to graceThe learned forheads, without gifts or gaine: Or rather learnd themselves behoves to bee;That is the girlond of nobilitie.
But (ah!) all otherwise they doo esteeme 85Of th'heavenly gift of wisdomes influence, And to be learned it a base thing deeme;Base minded they that want intelligence;For God himselfe for wisedome most is praised, And men to God thereby are nighest raised. 90
But they doo onely strive themselves to raise Through pompous pride, and foolish vanitie;In th' eyes of people they put all their praise, And onely boast of armes and auncestrie:But vertuous deeds, which did those armes first give To their grandsyres, they care not to atchive. 96
So I, that doo all noble feates professe To register, and sound in trump of gold; Through their bad dooings, or base slothfulnesse, Finde nothing worthie to be writ, or told: 100 For better farre it were to hide their names,Then telling them to blazon out their blames.
So shall succeeding ages have no lightOf things forepast, nor moniments of time; And all that in this world is worthie hight 105Shall die in darknesse, and lie hid in slime!Therefore I mourne with deep harts sorrowing, Because I nothing noble have to sing.—
With that she raynd such store of streaming teares, That could have made a stonie heart to weep; 110 And all her sisters rent their golden heares,And their faire faces with salt humour steep.So ended shee: and then the next in rewBegan her grievous plaint, as doth ensew.
MELPOMENE.O! who shall powre into my swollen eyes 115 A sea of teares that never may be dryde,A brazen voice that may with shrilling cryes Pierce the dull heavens and fill the ayër wide, And yron sides that sighing may endure,To waile the wretchednes of world impure? 120
Ah! wretched world, the den of wickednesse, Deformd with filth, and fowle iniquitie;Ah! wretched world, the house of heavinesse,Fild with the wreaks of mortall miserie;Ah! wretched world, and all that is therein, 125 The vassals of Gods wrath, and slaves to sin.
Most miserable creature under skyMan without understanding doth appeare;For all this worlds affliction he thereby,And fortunes freakes, is wisely taught to beare:Of wretched life the only ioy shee is, 131 And th' only comfort in calamities.
She armes the brest with constant patienceAgainst the bitter throwes of dolours darts:She solaceth with rules of sapience 135The gentle minds, in midst of worldly smarts: When he is sad, shee seeks to make him merie, And doth refresh his sprights when they be werie.
But he that is of reasons skill bereft,And wants the staffe of wisedome him to stay, 140 Is like a ship in midst of tempest left Withouten helme or pilot her to sway:Full sad and dreadfull is that ships event; So is the man that wants intendiment.
Why then doo foolish men so much despize 145The precious store of this celestiall riches?Why doo they banish us, that patronizeThe name of learning? Most unhappie wretches! The which lie drowned in deep wretchednes, Yet doo not see their owne unhappiness. 150
My part it is and my professed skillThe stage with tragick buskin to adorne,And fill the scene with plaint and outcries shrill Of wretched persons, to misfortune borne:But none more tragick matter I can finde 155Then this, of men depriv'd of sense and minde.
For all mans life me seemes a tragedy,Full of sad sights and sore catastrophes;First comming to the world with weeping eye, Where all his dayes, like dolorous trophees, 160Are heapt with spoyles of fortune and of feare, And he at last laid forth on balefull beare.
So all with rufull spectacles is fild,Fit for Megera or Persephone;But I that in true tragedies am skild. 165The flowre of wit, finde nought to busie me; Therefore I mourne, and pitifully mone, Because that mourning matter I have none.—
Then gan she wofully to waile, and wring Her wretched hands in lamentable wise; 170And all her sisters, thereto answering, Threw forth lowd shrieks and drerie dolefull cries. So rested she: and then the next in rewBegan her grievous plaint, as doth ensew.
THALIA.Where be the sweete delights of Learnings treasure That wont with comick sock to beautefie 176The painted theaters, and fill with pleasureThe listners eyes and eares with melodie;In which I late was wont to raine as queene,And maske in mirth with graces well beseene? 180
O! all is gone; and all that goodly glee,Which wont to be the glorie of gay wits,Is layd abed, and no where now to see;And in her roome unseemly Sorrow sits,With hollow browes and griesly countenaunce, 185 Marring my ioyous gentle dalliaunce.
And him beside sits ugly Barbarisme,And brutish Ignorance, yclept of lateOut of dredd darknes of the deepe abysme,Where being bredd, he light and heaven does hateThey in the mindes of men now tyrannize, 191And the faire scene with rudenes foule disguize.
All places they with Follie have possest,And with vaine toyes the vulgar entertaine;But me have banished, with all the rest 195That whilome wont to wait upon my traine. Fine Counterfesaunce, and unhurtfull Sport, Delight and Laughter, deckt in seemly sort.
All these, and all that els the comick stageWith seasoned wit and goodly pleasance graced, 200By which mans life in his likest imágeWas limned forth, are wholly now defaced;And those sweete wits, which wont the like to frame, Are now despizd, and made a laughing game.
And he, the man whom nature selfe bad made 205 To mock her selfe, and truth to imitate,With kindly counter under mimic shade,Our pleasant Willy, ah! is dead of late:With whom all ioy and iolly merimentIs also deaded, and in dolour drent. 210
In stead thereof scoffing Scurrilitie,Aad scornfull Follie with Contempt is crept, Rolling in rymes of shamelesse ribaudrie Without regard, or due decorum kept;Each idle wit at will presumes to make, 215And doth the learneds taske upon him take.
But that same gentle spirit, from whose penLarge streames of honnie and sweete nectar flowe, Scorning the boldnes of such base-borne men, Which dare their follies forth so rashlie throwe; 220Doth rather choose to sit in idle cell,Than so himselfe to Mockerie to sell.
So am I made the servant of the manie,And laughing stocke of all that list to scorne, Not honored nor cared for of anie; 225But loath'd of losels as a thing forlorne: Therefore I mourne and sorrow with the rest, Untill my cause of sorrow be redrest.—
Therewith she lowdly did lament and shrike, Pouring forth streames of teares abundantly; 230And all her sisters, with compassion like,The breaches of her singulfs did supplySo rested shee: and then the next in rew Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew.
EUTERPE.Like as the dearling of the summers pryde, 235 Faire Philomele, when winters stormie wrath The goodly fields, that erst so gay were dyde In colours divers, quite despoyled hath, All comfortlesse doth hide her cheerlesse headDuring the time of that her widowhead: 240
So we, that earst were wont in sweet accord, All places with our pleasant notes to fill, Whilest favourable times did us affordFree libertie to chaunt our charmes at will;All comfortlesse upon the bared bow, 245Like wofull culvers, doo sit wayling now.
For far more bitter storme than winters stowreThe beautie of the world hath lately wasted,And those fresh buds, which wont so faire to flowre,Hath marred quite, and all their blossoms blasted;And those yong plants, which wont with fruit t'abound, 251Now without fruite or leaves are to be found.
A stonie coldnesse hath benumbd the sence And livelie spirits of each living wight,And dimd with darknesse their intelligence, 255Darknesse more than Cymerians daylie night: And monstrous error, flying in the ayre,Hath mard the face of all that semed fayre.
Image of hellish horrour, Ignorance, Borne in the bosome of the black abysse, 260And fed with furies milke for »ustenaunce Of his weake infancie, begot amisseBy yawning Slowth on his owne mother Night; So hee his sonnes both syre and brother hight.
He, armd with blindnesse and with boidnes stout, 265(For blind is bold,) hath our fayre light defaced;And, gathering unto him a ragged routOf faunes and satyres, hath our dwellings raced;And our chast bowers, in which all vertue rained, With brutishnesse and beastlie filth hath stained. 270
The sacred springs of horsefoot Helicon, So oft bedeawed with our learned layes, And speaking streames of pure Castalion The famous witnesse of our wonted praise,They trampled have with their fowle footings trade And like to troubled puddles have them made. 276
Our pleasant groves, which planted were with paines,That with our musick wont so oft to ring,
And arbors sweet, in which the shepheards swainesWere wont so oft their pastoralls to sing, 280They have cut downe, and all their pleasaunce mard,That now no pastorall is to bee hard.
In stead of them, fowle goblins and shriek-owlesWith fearfull howling do all places fill ;And feeble Eccho now laments, and howles,‘The dreadful accents of their outeries shrill.So all is turned into wildernesse,
Whilest Ignorance the muses doth oppresse.
And I, whose ioy was earst with spirit fullTo teach the warbling pipe to sound aloft,(My spirits now dismayd with sorrow dull,)Doo mone my miserie with silence soft.‘Therefore I mourne and waile incessantly,Till please the heavens affoord me remedy.—
Therewith shee wayled with exceeding woe,And pitious lamentation did make ;
And all her sisters, seeing her doo soe,With equall plaints her sorrowe did partake.So rested shee: and then the next in rewBegan her grievous plaint, as doth ensew.
TERPSICHORE.Wauoso hath in the lap of soft delightBeen long time luld, and fed with pleasures sweet,Feareles through his own fault or fortunes spightTo tumble into sorrow and regreet,Yf chaunce him fall into calamitie,Finds greater burthen of his miserie.
So wee that earst in ioyance did abound,
And in the bosome of all blis did sit,
Like virgin queenes, with laurell garlands cround,
For vertues meed and ornament of wit ! 310Sith Ignorance our kingdome did confound,
Be now become most wretched wightes on ground.
And in our royall thrones, which lately stoodIn th’ hearts of men to rule them carelully,
He now hath placed his accursed brood,
By him begotten of fowle Infamy ;
Blind Error, scornefull Folie, and base Spight,Who hold by wrong that wee should have by right.
They to the vulgar sort now pipe and sing,
And make them merie with their fooleries: 320‘They cherelie chaunt, and rymes at randon fling,The fruitful spawne of their ranke fantasies ;
They fede the eares of fooles with flattery,
And good men blame, and losels magnify.
Alll places they doo with their toyes possesse, 325And raigne in liking of the multitude ;
The schooles they fil with fond new-fanzlenesse,Aud sway in court with pride and rashnes rude ;Mongst simple shepheards they do boast their skill,And say their musicke mateaeth Phoebus quill. 330
The noble hearts to pleasures they allure,
And tell their prince that learning is but vaine ;Faire ladies loves they spot with thoughts impure,And gentle mindes with lewd delights distaine ;Clerks they to loathly idlenes entice,
And fill their bookes with discipline of vice.So every where they rule, and tyrannize,
For their usurped kingdomes maintenaunce,
The whiles we silly niaides, whom they dispize,And with reprochfull scone discountenaunce, 340From our owne native heritage exilde,
Walk through the world of every one revilde.
Nor anie one doth care to call us in,
Or once vouchsafeth us to entertaine,Unlesse some one perhaps of gentle kin,For pitties sake, compassion our paine,And yeeld us some reliefe in this distresse ;Yet to be so reliev'd is wretchednesse.So wander we all carefull comfortlesse,
Yet none doth care to comfort us at all :
So seeke we helpe our sorrow to redresse,Yet none vouchsafes to answere to our call ;Therefore we mourne and pittilesse complaine,Because none living pittieth our paine.—
With that she wept and wofullie waymented,That naught on earth her griefe might pacifie ;And all the rest her dolefull din auginentedWith shrikes, and groanes, and grievous agonie.So ended shee: and then the next in rew,Began her piteous plaint, as doth ensew.
ERATO,Ye gentle siprits! breathing from above,Where ye in Venus silver howre were bred,Thoughts halfe devine, full of the fire of love,With beautie kindled, and with pleasure fed,Which ye now in securitie possesse, 365Forgetfull of your former heavinesse ;
Now change the tenor of your joyous layes,With which ye use your loves to deifie,And blazon foorth an earthly beauties praiseAbove the compasse of the arched skie:Now change your praises into piteous cries,And eulogies turne into elegies.Such as ye wont, whenas those bitter stounds
Of raging love first gan you to torment,
And launch your hearts with lamentable woundsOf secret sorrow and sad languishment, 376Before your loves did take you unto grace;
Those now renew as fitter for this place.
For I that rule, in measure moderate,
‘The tempest of that stormie passion,
And use to paint in rimes the troubloua stateOf lovers lite in likest fashion,
Am put from practise of my kindlie skill,Banisht by those that love with leawdnes fill.
Love wont to be schoolmaster of my shill, 385And the devisefull matter of my song ;
Sweete Love devoyd of villanie or ill,
But pure and spotles, as at first he sprongOut of th’ Almighties bosome, where he nests ;From thence infused into mortall brests. 390Such high conceipt of that celestiall fire,
The base-borue brood of Blindnes cannot gesse,Ne ever dare their dunghill thoughts aspireUnto so loftie pitch of perfectnesse,
But rime at riot, and deo rage in love ;
Yet hte wote what doth thereto behove.
Faire Cytheree, the mother of Delight And queene of Beautie, now thou maist go pack ; For lo! thy kingdome is defaced quight, Thy sceptre rent, and power put to wrack; 400 And thy gay sore, the winged god of Love, May now go prune his plumes like ruffed dove.
And ye three twins, to light by Venus brought, The sweete companions of the Muses late, From whom whatever thing is goodly thought, Doth borrow grace, the fancie to aggrate ;Gu beg with us, and be companions still,As heretofore of good, so now of ill.
For neither you nor we shall anie moreFind entertainment or in court or schoole :Fer that, which was accounted heretofore‘The learneds meede, is now lent to the foole ;He sings of love, and maketh lovingAnd they him heare, and they him highly prayse.—
With that she powred foorth a brackish flood 415Of bitter teares, and made exceeding mone ;And all her sisters, seving her sad mood,With lowd laments her answered all at one.So ended she: and then the next in rewBegan her grievous plaint, as doth ensew.
CALLIOPE.To whom shall I my evill case comp!Or tell the anguish of my inward sSith none is left to remedie my paine,Or deignes to pitie a perplexed hart ;But rather seekes my sorrow to augmentWith fowle report and cruel! banishment?
For they, to whom I used to applieThe faithful service of my learned skill,The goodly offspring of loves progenie,That wont the world with famous acts to fillWhose living praises in heroick style,It is my chiefe profession to compyle ;
They, all corrupted through the rust of timeThat doth all fairest things on earth deface,Or through unnoble sloth, or sirfull crime,That doth degenerate the noble race ;Have both desire of worthie deeds forlorne,And name of learning utterly doo scorne.
Ne doo they care to have the auncestrieOf th’ old heroés memorizde anew ;Ne doo they care that late posteritieShould know their names, or speak their praises dew,But die forgot from whence at first they sprong,As they themselves shalbe for,ot ere long.
What bootes it then to come from gloriousForefathers, or to have been nobly bredd ?What oddes twixt lius and old Inachus,Twixt best and worst, when both alike are dedd ;Uf none of her mention should make,Nor out of dust their memories awake ?
Or who would ever care to doo brave deed,Or strive in vertue others to excell ;If none should yeeld him his deserved meed,Due praise, that is the spur of dooing well?For if good were not praised more than ill, 455None would choose goodnes of his owne freewill.
Therefore the nurse of Vertue I am hight,And golden trumpet of Eternitie,That lowly thoughts lift up to heavens hight,And mortall men have powre to deifie :Bacchus and Hercules I raisd to heaven,And Charlemaine amongst the starris seaven.
But now I will my golden clarion rend,And will henceforth immortalize no more;Sith I no more find worthie to commendFor prize of value, or for learned lore :For noble peeres, whom T was wont to raise,Now onely seeke for pleasure, nought for praise.
Their great revenues all in sumptuous prideThey spend, that nought to learning they may spare;And the rich fee, which poets wont divide, 471Now parasites and sycophants doo share :Therefore I mourne and endlesse sorrow make,Both for my self and for my sisters sake.
With that she lowdly gan to waile and shrike, 475And from her eyes a sea of teares did powre ;And all her sisters, with compassion like,Did more increase the sharpnes of her showre.So ended she: and then the next in rewBegan her plaint, as doth herein ensew.
URANIA.What wrath of gods, or wicked influenceOf starres conspiring wretched men t’ afflict,Hath powrd on earth this noyous pestilence,That mortall mindes doth inwardly infectWith love of blindnesse and of ignorance, 485To dwell in darknesse without sovenance?
What difference twixt man and beast is left,When th’ heavenlie light of knowledge is put out,And th’ ornaments of wisdome are bereft ?Then wandreth be in error and in doubt,Unweeting of the danger hee is in,Through fleshes frailtie, and deceipt of sin.
In this wide world in which they wretches stray,It is the onclie comfort which they have,It is their light, their loadstarre, and their day ; 495But hell, and darknesse, and the grislie grave,Is Ignorance, the enemy of Grace,That mindes of men borne heavenlie doth debace.
Through knowledge we bebould the worlds creation,How in his cradle first he fostred was ; 500And iudge of Natures cunning operation,How things she formed of a formlesse mas:By knowledge wee do learne our selyes to knowe,And what to man, and what to God, wee owe.
From hence wee mount aloft unto the skie, 505And looke into the cbristall firmament ;There we behold the heavens great hierarchie,The starres pure light, the spheres swift movément,The spirites and intelligence:And angels waighting on th’ Almighties chayre.510
And there, with humble minde and high insight,Th’ Eternall Makers mairstie wee viewe,His love, his truth, his glorie, and his might,And mercie more then mortall men can vew.© soveraigne Lord, Os ne happinesse,‘Yo sce thee, and thy mercie measurelesse !
Such Iiappines have they, that do embrace
The precepts of my heavenlie discipline ;
But shame and sorrow and accursed case
Have they, that seorne the sch^'OK- of arts divine,
And banish me, which do piofesse the slcill 5'il
To make men heavenly wise through humbled will.
However yet they mee despise and spight, 1 feede on sweet contentment of mv thought, And please my selfe with mine owne selt'e delight, In contemplation of things heavenlie wrought- D'26 So, loathina; earth, I looke up to the sky And, being- driven hence, 1 thether fly.
Thence I behold the miserie of men, [breed,
Which want the bliss that wisedom would them And lilce brute beasts doo lie in loathsome den 5ol Of ghostly darkues, and of ghastlie dreed : For whom I mourne, and for ray ffelfe complaine. And for my sisters eake whom they disdaine. —
With that shee wept and waild so pityouslie, 535
As if her eyes had beene two springing wells;
And all ihe rest, her soirow to .supplie.
Did throw forth shriekes and cries and dreery yells.
So ended shee: and then the next in rew
Began her mournfull plaint, as doth ensew. 540
rOLVHYMNtA.
A DOLEFULL case desires a dolefull song,
Without vaine art oi curious complements;
And squallid Fortune, into basenes flong.
Doth seorne the pride of wonted ornaments.
Then fittest are these ragged rimes for mee, 545
To tell my sorrowes that exceeding bee.
For the sweet numbers and melodious measures, With which 1 wont the winged words to tie, And make a tuneful! diapase of pleasures. Now being let to runne ut libenie 550
By those which have no skill to rule tht^m right. Have now quite lost their naturall delight.
Heapes of huge words uphoorded hideously'. With horrid sound though iiaving little sence. They thinke to be chiete praise of poetry ; 555
And, thereby wanting due intelligence, Have mard the lace of goodiy poesie, And made a monster oi their lautasie.
457
560
W liilom Ml ages past none might professe But princes and liigh priests that secret skill ; The sacred lavves therein they wont expresse, Ai>'j with dee])e oracles their verses fill : I hen was shee hela in soveraigne digniiie, And made the noursling of nobilitie.
But now nor prince nor priest doth her maintavne.
But suffer her proplianed for to bee 566
Of the base vulgar, that with liands uncleane
Dares to pollute her hidden mysterie ;
And treadeth underfoote hir holie things.
Which vi-as the care of Kesars and of kings. 570
One onelie lives, her ages ornament.
And myrrour of her Makers maiestie,
That with rich bountie, and deare cherishment.
Supports the praise of noble poesie ;
Ne onelie favours them which it professe, 375
But is her selfe a peereles poetesse.
Most peereles prince, most peereles poetesse.
The true Pandora of all heavenly graces.
Divine Elisa, sacred emperesse!
Live she for ever, and her royall p'laces 38C
I'e fild with praises of divinest wits.
That her eternize with their heavenlie writs !
Some few beside this sacred skill esteme.
Admirers of her glorious excellence;
Which, being lightned with her beawties heme, 585
Are thereby fild with hapjiie influence,
And lifted up above the worldL's gaze,
To sing with angels her immortall praize.
But all the rest, as borne of salvage brood,
And having beene wi;h acorns alwaies fed, 590
Can no whit savour this celestiall food,
But with base thoughts are into blindiiesse led.
And kept from looking on the lightsome nay :
For whome I waile and weepe all that I may. —
Eftsoones such store of teares shee forth did powre. As if shee all to water would have gone ; 596
And all her sisters, seeing her sad stowre, Did weep and waile, and made exceeding mone, And all their learned instruments did breake : 1 'i lie rest untold no livii)g tfugue can speake.