Englands Parnassus: or the choysest flowers of our moderne poets, with their poeticall comparisons Descriptions of bewties, personages, castles, pallaces, mountaines, groues, seas, springs, riuers, &c. Whereunto are annexed other various discourses, both pleasaunt and profitable.

Of Sorrow.

In blacke all clad there fell before my face, A ptiteous wight whom woe had all forewast, Forth on her eyes the cristall teares out brast, And sighing fore her hands shee wrung and fold, Tare all her haire, that ruth was to behold; Her body small, sore withered and fore spent, As is the stalke that summers drought opprest, Her welked face with wofull teares besprent: Her colour pale (as it seemed) her best, In woe and plaint reposed was her rest: And as the stone that drops of water weares, So dented were her cheekes with fall of teares: Her eyes swollen with flowing streames afloate, Wherewith her lookes throwne vp full pitiously, Her forcelesse handes together oft she smote, With dolefull shrikes that ecchoed in the skie, Whose plaints such sighs did strait accompanie, That in my doome was neuer man did see A wight but halfe so woe-begone as shee. Sorrow I am, in endlesse sorrowes pained, Among the furies in the infernall lake, Where Pluto God of hell so grisly blacke, Doth hold his throne and Laethes deadly taste, Doth riue remembrance of each thing fore-past. M. Sackuile.

Sorrows first leader of this furious crowde,

Muffled all ouer in a sable clowde, Olde before age, afflicted night and day, Her face with wrinkles warped euerie way, Creeping in corners, where shee sits and vies; Sighs from her heart, teares for her blubbered eies, Accompanied with selfe-consuming care, With weeping pittie, thought, and mad dispayre, That beares about her burning coles and cords, Aspes, poysons, pistols, haulters, kniues, and swords, Foule squinting enuie, that selfe-eating elfe, Through others leannesse fatting vp her selfe, Ioyning in mischiefe, feeding but with langour, And bitter teares, her toad-like swelling anger, And iealousie that neuer sleepes for feare, (Suspitious flea still nibling in her eare) That leaues repast and rest, neere pinde and blinde, With seeking what shee would bee loth to finde. I. Siluester.

Two inward vulturs, sorrow and disdaine. Sorow misfortunes sonne, dispayres foule fire. Ed. Fairfax.

Sorrow breakes seasons and reposing howres, Makes the night morning, and the noone tide night, W. Shakespeare.

Sorrow is still vnwilling to giue ouer. S. Daniell.

Sorrow grows sencelesse when too much she beares. M. Dr.

Sad sorrow like a heauie ringing bell, Once set in ringing, with his owne weight goes, Then little strength rings out the dolefull knel. W. Sh.

It is some ease our sorrowes to reueale, If they to whome we shall impart our woes, Seeme but to feele a part of what we feele. And meete vs with a sigh but at a close. S. Daniell.

Sighes are the ease calamitie affoords, Which serue for speech when sorrow wanteth words. Idem.

Fell sorrowes tooth neuer ranckles more, Then when it bites, but launcheth not the sore. Idem.

—Sorrow close shrouded in the heart. I know to keep, it is a wondrous smart, Each thing imparted, is more ease to beare, When the raine is fallen, the cloudes waxe cleere. Ed. Spencer.

— Sorrow ne neede be hastened on, For he will come without calling anon. Idem.

—Snarling sorrow hath lesse powrc to bite The man that mocks at it, and sets it light. Ed. Spencer.

He that his sorrow sought through wilfulnesse, And his foe fettered would release againe, Deserues to tast his follies fruit, repented paine. Ed. Spencer.

— Mirth doth search the bottom of annoy, Sad soules are slaine in mirthie companie, Greefe best is pleasde with griefes societie: True sorrow then is feelingly suffizde,

When with like sorrow it is sympathizde. True sorrow hath not euer a wet eye. Th. Dekker.

Sad sorrow euer ioyes to heare her worst. S. D.