The Countesse of Pembrookes Pastorall.
A Sheepheard and a Sheepheardesse,
sate keeping sheepe vpon the downes:
His lookes did gentle blood expresse,
her beauty was no foode for clownes.
Sweet louely twaine, what might you be?
Englands Helicon Casta placent superis, pura cum veste venite, et manibus puris sumite fontis aquam.
About this Item
- Title
- Englands Helicon Casta placent superis, pura cum veste venite, et manibus puris sumite fontis aquam.
- Publication
- At London :: Printed by I. R[oberts] for Iohn Flasket, and are to be sold in Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Beare,
- 1600.
- Rights/Permissions
-
To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
- Subject terms
- English poetry -- Early modern, 1500-1700 -- Early works to 1800.
- Pastoral poetry, English -- Early works to 1800.
- Link to this Item
-
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A16273.0001.001
- Cite this Item
-
"Englands Helicon Casta placent superis, pura cum veste venite, et manibus puris sumite fontis aquam." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A16273.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 13, 2024.
Pages
Page [unnumbered]
Two fronting hills bedect with flowers,
they chose to be each others seate:
And there they stole theyr amorous houres,
with sighes and teares, poore louers meate,
Fond Loue that feed'st thy seruants so.
Faire freend, quoth he, when shall I liue,
That am halfe dead, yet cannot die?
Can beautie such sharpe guerdon giue,
to him whose life hangs in your eye?
Beautie is milde, and will not kill.
Sweet Swaine, quoth shee, accuse not mee,
that long haue been thy humble thrall:
But blame the angry destinie,
whose kinde consent might finish all,
Vngentle Fate, to crosse true loue.
Quoth hee, let not our Parents hate,
disioyne what heauen hath linckt in one:
They may repent, and all too late
if chyldlesse they be left alone.
Father nor freend, should wrong true loue.
The Parents frowne, said shee, is death,
to children that are held in awe:
From them we drew our vitall breath,
they challenge dutie then by law,
Such dutie as kills not true loue.
They haue, quoth hee, a kinde of sway,
on these our earthly bodies heere:
But with our soules deale not they may,
the God of loue doth hold them deere.
Hee is most meet to rule true loue.
Page [unnumbered]
I know, said shee, tis worse then hell,
when Parents choyse must please our eyes:
Great hurt comes thereby, I can tell,
forc'd loue in desperate danger dies.
Fayre mayde, then fancie thy true loue.
If wee, quoth hee, might see the houre,
of that sweet state which neuer ends,
Our heauenly gree might haue the power,
to make our Parents as deere freends.
All rancour yeelds to soueraine loue.
Then God of loue, sayd shee, consent,
and shew some wonder of thy power:
Our Parents, and our owne content,
may be confirmde by such an houre,
Graunt greatest God to further loue.
The Fathers, who did alwayes tend,
when thus they got theyr priuate walke,
As happy fortune chaunc'd to send,
vnknowne to each, heard all this talke.
Poore soules to be so crost in loue.
Behind the hills whereon they sate,
they lay this while and listned all:
And were so mooued both thereat,
that hate in each began to fall.
Such is the power of sacred loue.
They shewed themselues in open sight,
poore Louers, Lord how they were mazde?
And hand in hand the Fathers plight,
whereat (poore harts) they gladly gazde.
Hope now begins to further loue.
Page [unnumbered]
And to confirme a mutuall band,
of loue, that at no time should ceasse:
They likewise ioyned hand in hand,
the Sheepheard and the Sheepheardesse.
Like fortune still befall true loue.
Shep. Tome.
FINIS.