Idea the shepheards garland Fashioned in nine eglogs. Rowlands sacrifice to the nine Muses.

About this Item

Title
Idea the shepheards garland Fashioned in nine eglogs. Rowlands sacrifice to the nine Muses.
Author
Drayton, Michael, 1563-1631.
Publication
Imprinted at London :: [By T. Orwin] for Thomas Woodcocke, dwelling in Pauls Churchyarde, at the signe of the black Beare,
1593.
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Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A20823.0001.001
Cite this Item
"Idea the shepheards garland Fashioned in nine eglogs. Rowlands sacrifice to the nine Muses." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A20823.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 15, 2024.

Pages

Rowland.
Oh hie inthronized Ioue, in thy Olympicke raigne, Oh battel-waging Marte, oh sage-saw'd Mercury, Oh Golden shrined Sol, Uenus loues soueraigne, Oh dreadfull Saturne, flaming aye with furie, Moyst-humord Cinthya, Author of Lunacie, Conioyne helpe to erect our faire Ideas trophie.

Page 32

Oh Tresses of faire Phoebus stremed die, Oh blessed load-starre lending purest light, Oh Paradice of heauenly tapistrie, Angels sweete musick, ô my soules delight, ô fayrest Phebe passing euery other light.
Whose presence ioyes the earths decayed state, Whose counsels are registred in the sphere, Whose sweete reflecting clearenes doth amate, The starrie lights, and makes the Sunne more fayre, Whose breathing sweete perfumeth all the ayre.
Thy snowish necke, fayre Natures tresurie, Thy swannish breast, the hauen of lasting blisse, Thy cheekes the bancks of Beauties vsurie, Thy heart the myne, where goodnes gotten is, Thy lips those lips which Cupid ioyes to kisse.
And those fayre hands within whose louely palmes, Fortune diuineth happie Augurie, Those straightest fingers dealing heauenly almes, Pointed with pur'st of Natures Alcumie, Where loue sits looking in loues palmistrie.
And those fayre Iuorie columnes which vpreare, That Temple built by heauens Geometrie, And holiest Flamynes sacrifizen theare, Vnto that heauenly Queene of Chastitie, Where vertues burning lamps can neuer quenched be.

Page 33

Thence see the fairest light that euer shone, That cleare which doth worlds cleerenes quite sur∣passe, Braue Phoebus chayred in his golden throane, Beholding him, in this pure Christall glasse, See here the fayrest fayre that euer was.
Delicious fountaine, liquid christalline, Mornings vermilion, verdant spring-times pride, Purest of purest, most refined fine, With crimson tincture curiously Idy'd, Mother of Muses, great Apollos bride.
Earths heauen, worlds wonder, hiest house of fame, Reuiuer of the dead, eye-killer of the liue, Belou'd of Angels, Vertues greatest name, Fauors rar'st feature, beauties prospectiue, Oh that my verse thy vertues could contriue.
That stately Theater on whose fayre stage, Each morall vertue actes a princely part, Where euery scene pronounced by a Sage, Eternizeth diuinest Poets Arte, Ioyes the beholders eyes, and glads the hearers hart.
The worlds memorials, that sententious booke, Where euery Comma, points a curious phrase, Vpon whose method, Angels ioye to looke: At euery Colon, Wisdomes selfe doth pause, And euery Period hath his hie applause.

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Read in her eyes a Romant of delights, Read in her words the prouerbs of the wise, Read in her life the holy vestall rites, Which loue and vertue sweetly moralize: And she the Academ of vertues exercise.
But on thy volumes who is there may comment, When as thy selfe hath Arts selfe vndermined: Or vndertake to coate thy learned margent, When learnings lines are euer enterlined, And purest words, are in thy mouth refined.
Knewest thou thy vertues, oh thou fayr'st of fayrest, Thou earths sole Phenix, of the world admired, Vertue in thee repurify'd and rarest, Whose endles fame by time is not expired, Then of thy selfe would thy selfe be admired.
But arte wants arte to frame so pure a Myrror, VVhere humaine eyes may view thy vertues beautie, VVhen fame is so surprised with the terror, wanting to pay the tribute of her duetie, with colours who can paint out vertues beautie.
But since vnperfect are the perfects colours, And skill is so vnskilfull how to blaze thee: Now will I make a myrror of my dolours, and in my teares then looke thy selfe and prayse thee, oh happy I, if such a glasse might please thee.

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Goe gentle windes and whisper in her eare, and tell Idea how much I adore her, And thou my flock, reporte vnto my fayre, How she excelleth all that went before her, Tell her the very foules in ayre adore her.
And thou cleare Brooke by whose fayre siluer streame, Grow those tall Okes where I haue caru'd her name, Conuay her praise to Neptunes watery Realme, refresh the rootes of her still growing fame, and teach the Dolphins to resound her name.
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