Englands Helicon. Or The Muses harmony.

¶Hobbinolls Dittie in praise of Eliza, Queene of the Shepheards.

YE dainty Nimphes that in this blessed Brooke Doe bath your brest; Forsake your watry Bowers, and hether looke At my request. And you faire Virgins that on Parnasse dwell, Whence floweth Helicon the learned well: Helpe me to blaze Her worthy praise, Who in her sexe doth all excell.

Of faire Eliza be your siluer song, That blessed wight: The flower of Virgins, may she flourish long In Princely plight: For she is Sirinx daughter, without spot, Which Pan the Shepheards God on her begot: So sprung her Grace, Of heauenly race: No mortall blemish may her blot.

See where she sits vpon the grassie greene, O seemely sight: Yclad in scarlet, like a mayden Queene, And Ermines white. Vpon her head a crimson Coronet, With Daffadils and Damaske Roses set, Bay leaues betweene, And Primeroses greene: Embellish the sweet Violet.

Tell me, haue ye beheld her Angels face, Like Phoebe faire? Her heauenly hauiour, her Princely Grace, Can well compare The red-Rose medled and the white yfere, In either cheeke depeincten liuely cheere. Her modest eye, Her Maiestie. Where haue you seene the like but there?

I saw Phoebus thrust out his golden head, On her to gaze:

But when he saw how broad her beames did spread: It did him maze. He blusht to see another Sunne below, Ne durst againe his fierie face out-show: Let him if he dare His brightnesse compare With hers, to haue the ouerthrow.

Shew thy selfe Cynthia with thy siluer rayes, And be not abasht, When she the beames of her beauty displayes, Oh how art thou dasht? But I will not match her with Latonaes seed, Such folly great sorrow to Niobe did breed, Now is she a stone, And makes deadly mone, Warning all other to take heed.

Pan may be proud, that euer he begot Such a Bellibone: And Sirinx reioyce, that euer was her lot To beare such a one. Soone as my Younglings cryen for the dam, To her will I offer a milke-white Lamb. She is my Goddesse plaine, And I her Shepheards Swaine, Albe for-swonck and for-swat I am.

I see Caliope speede her to the place, Where my Goddesse shines: And after her the other Muses trace With their Violines.

Bin they not Bay-branches which they doe beare: All for Eliza in her hand to weare? So sweetly they play, And sing all the way, That it a heauen is to heare.

Loe how finely the Graces can it foote, to the Instrument: They dauncen deffely, and singen foote In their merriment. Wants not a fourth Grace to make the daunce euen? Let that roome to my Lady be giuen. She shall be a Grace, To fill the fourth place, And raigne with the rest in heauen.

And whether runnes this beuie of Ladies bright, Ranged in a roe? They beene all Ladies of the Lake behight That vnto her goe: Chloris, that is the chiefe Nimph of all, Of Oliue-branches beares a Coronall: Oliues beene for peace When warres doe surcease, Such for a Princesse beene principall.

Bring hether the Pinke and purple Cullumbine. With Gillyflowers: Bring sweet Carnasions, and Sops in Wine, Worne of Paramours. Strew me the ground with Daffa-down-Dillies, And Cowslips, and Kings-cups, and loued Lillies,

The pretty Paunce, And the Cheuisaunce, Shall match with the faire flower-Delice.

Ye Shepheards daughters that dwell on the greene, Hye you there a pace, Let none come there but such as Virgins beene, To adorne her Grace. And when you come where as she is in place: See that your rudenesse doe not you disgrace. Binde your Fillets fast, And gird on your wast, For more finenesse, with a Tawdrie lace.

Now rise vp Eliza, decked as thou art, In royall ray: And now ye dainty Damsels may depart Each one her way. I feare I haue troubled your troupes too long: Let dame Eliza thanke you for her Song. And if you come hether, When Damzins I gather I will part them all, you among.

FINIS.

Edm. Spencer.