The shepheardes calender conteyning tvvelue æglogues proportionable to the twelue monethes. Entitled to the noble and vertuous gentleman most worthy of all titles both of learning and cheualrie M. Philip Sidney.

Januarye. (Book Januarye)

[illustration]

Aegloga prima.

ARGVMENT.

IN this fyrst Aeglogue Colin cloute a shepheardes boy complaineth him of his vnfortunate loue, being but newly (as semeth) enamoured of a coun∣trie lasse called Rosalinde: with which strong affection being very sore tra∣ueled, he compareth his carefull case to the sadde season of the yeare, to the frostie ground, to the frosen trees, and to his owne winterbeaten flocke. And lastlye, fynding himselfe robbed of all former pleasaunce and delights, hee breaketh his Pipe in peeces, and casteth him selfe to the ground.

COLIN Cloute.

A Shepeheards boye (no better doe him call) when Winters wastful spight was almost spent, All in a sunneshine day, as did befall, Led forth his flock, that had bene long ypent. So faynt they woxe, and feeble in the folde, That now vnnethes their feete could them vphold.

All as the Sheepe, such was the shepeheards looke, For pale and wanne he was, (alas the while,) May seeme he loud, or els some care he tooke: Well couth he tune his pipe, and frame his stile.

Tho to a hill his faynting flocke he ledde, And thus him playnd, the while his shepe there fedde.

Ye Gods of loue, that pitie louers payne, (If any gods the paine of louers pitie:) Looke from aboue, where you in ioyes remaine, And bowe your eares vnto my dolefull dittie. And Pan thou shepheards God, that once didst loue, Pitie the paines, that thou thy selfe didst proue.

Thou barrein ground, whome winters wrath hath wasted, Art made a myrrhour, to behold my plight: Whilome thy fresh spring flowrd, and after hasted Thy sommer prowde with Daffadillies dight. And now is come thy wynters stormy state, Thy mantle mard, wherein thou mas-kedst late.

Such rage as winters, reigneth in my heart, My life bloud friesing with vnkindly cold: Such stormy stoures do breede my balefull smart, As if my yeare were wast, and woxen old. And yet alas, but now my spring begonne, And yet alas, yt is already donne.

You naked trees, whose shady leaues are lost, Wherein the byrds were wont to build their bowre: And now are clothd with mosse and hoary frost, Instede of bloosmes, wherwith your buds did flowre: I see your teares, that from your boughes doe raine, Whose drops in drery ysicles remaine.

All so my lustfull leafe is drye and sere, My timely buds with wayling all are wasted: The blossome, which my braunch of youth did beare, With breathed sighes is blowne away, & blasted, And from mine eyes the drizling teares descend, As on your boughes the ysicles depend.

Thou feeble flocke, whose fleece is rough and rent, Whose knees are weake through fast and euill fare:

Mayst witnesse well by thy ill gouernement, Thy maysters mind is ouercome with care. Thou weake, I wanne: thou leane, I quite forlorne: With mourning pyne I, you with pyning mourne.

A thousand sithes I curse that carefull hower. Wherein I longd the neighbour towne to see: And eke tenne thousand sithes I blesse the stoure, Wherein I sawe so fayre a sight, as shee. Yet all for naught: such sight hath bred my bane. Ah God, that loue should breede both ioy and payne.

It is not Hobbinol, wherefore I plaine, Albee my loue he seeke with dayly suit: His clownish gifts and curtsies I disdaine, His kiddes, his cracknelles, and his early fruit. Ah foolish Hobbinol, thy gyfts bene vayne: Colin them giues to Rosalind againe.

I loue thilke lasse, (alas why doe I loue?) And am forlorne, (alas why am I lorne?) Shee deignes not my good will, but doth reproue, And of my rurall musick holdeth scorne. Shepheards deuise she hateth as the snake, And laughes the songes, that Colin Clout doth make.

Wherefore my pype, albee rude Pan thou please, Yet for thou pleasest not, where most I would: And thou vnlucky Muse, that wontst to ease My musing mynd, yet canst not, when thou should: Both pype and Muse, shall sore the while abye. So broke his oaten pype, and downe dydlye.

By that, the welked Phoebus gan availe, His weary waine, and nowe the frosty Night Her mantle black through heauen gan ouerhaile. Which seene, the pensife boy halfe in despight Arose, and homeward droue his sonned sheepe, Whose hanging heads did seeme his carefull case to weepe.

Colins Embleme.

Anchôra speme.

GLOSSE.

COLIN Cloute) is a name not greatly vsed, and yet haue I sene a Poesie of M. Skel∣tons vnder that title. But indeede the vvord Colin is Frenche, and vsed of the French Poete Marot (if he be worthy of the name of a Poete) in a certein Aeg∣logue. Vnder which name this Poete secretly shadoweth himself, as sometime did Virgil vnder the name of Tityrus, thinking it much fitter, then such Latine names, for the great vnlikelyhoode of the language.

vnnethes) scarcely.

couthe) commeth of the verbe Conne, that is, to knovv or to haue skill. As vvell inter∣preteth the same the worthy Sir Tho. Smitth in his booke of gouerment: wher of I haue a perfect copie in wryting, lent me by his kinseman, and my verye sin∣gular good freend, M. Gabriel Haruey: as also of some other his most graue & excellent vvrytings.

Sythe) time. Neighbour tovvne) the next tovvne: expressing the Latine Vicina.

Stoure) a fitt. Sere) vvithered.

His clovvnish gyfts) imitateth Virgils verse,

Rusticus es Corydon, nec munera curat Alexis.

Hobbinol) is a fained country name, vvhereby, it being so commune and vsuall, seemeth to be hidden the person of some his very speciall & most familiar freend, whom he entirely and extraordinarily beloued, as peraduenture shall be more largely declared hereafter. In thys place seemeth to be some sauour of disorderly loue, vvhich the learned call paederastice: but it is gathered beside his meaning. For vvho that hath red Plato his dialogue called Alcybiades, Xenophon and Max∣imus Tyrius of Socrates opinions, may easily perceiue, that such loue is muche to be alowed and liked of, specially so meant, as Socrates vsed it: vvho sayth, that in deede he loued Alcybiades extremely, yet not Alcybiades person, but hys soule, vvhich is Alcybiades ovvne selfe. And so is paederastice much to be prae∣ferred before gynerastice, that is the loue vvhiche enflameth men vvith lust to∣vvard vvoman kind. But yet let no man thinke, that herein I stand vvith Lucian or hys deuelish disciple Vnico Aretino, in defence of execrable and horrible sinnes of forbidden and vnlavvful fleshlinesse. VVhose abominable errour is ful∣ly confuted of Perionius, and others.

I loue) a prety Epanorthosis in these tvvo verses, and vvithall a Paronomasia or play∣ing vvith the vvord, vvhere he sayth (I loue thilke lasse (alas &c.

Rosalinde) is also a feigned name, vvhich being wel ordered, vvil bevvray the very name of hys loue and mistresse, vvhom by that name he coloureth. So as Ouide sha∣doweth hys loue vnder the name of Corynna, vvhich of some is supposed to be

Iulia, themperor Augustus his daughter, and vvyse to Agryppa. So doth Arun∣tius Stella euery where call his Lady Asteris and Ianthis, albe it is vvel knowen that her right name vvas Violantilla: as vvitnesseth Statius in his Epithalamiū. And so the famous Paragone of Italy, Madonna Coelia in her letters enuclo∣peth her selfe vnder the name of Zima: and Petrona vuder the name of Bello∣chia. And this generally hath bene a common custome of counterfeicting the names of secret Personages.

Auail) bring downe.

Embleme. Ouerhaile) drawe ouer.

His Embleme or Poesye is here vnder added in Italian, Anchóra speme: the meaning vvherof is, that notvvithstande his extreme passion and lucklesse loue, yet lea∣ning on hope, he is some what recomforted.