Montemayor's Diana

Page 462

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To be a Lord, yet like a Tyrant minded,
Vaine boy with errour blinded,
Why dost thou hurt his life with thy offences,
That yeelds to thee his soule and inward senses.
He erres (alas) and fowly is deceiued
That cals thee God, being a burning fire,
A furious flame, a playning greefe and clamorous,
And, Venus sonne (that in the earth was amorous,
Gentle, and milde, and full of sweete desire)
Who calleth him, is of his wits bereaued,
And yet that she conceaued
By proofe, so vile a sonne and so vnruly,
I say (and yet say truly)
That in the cause of harmes, that they haue framed,
Both iustly may be blamed:
She, that did breede him with such vile pretenses,
He, that doth hurt so much our inward senses.
The gentle sheepe and lambes are euer flying
The rauening woolues and beastes, that are pretending
To glut their mawes with flesh they teare asunder:
The milke white doues at noise of fearefull thunder
Flie home amaine, themselues from harme defending,
The little chicke, when puttocks are a crying:
The woods and meadowes dying
For raine, of heauen (if that they cannot haue it)
Doe neuer cease to craue it:
So euery thing his contrarie resisteth,
Onely thy thrall persisteth
In suffring of thy wrongs without defences,
And lets thee spoile his hart and inward senses.
A publike passion, natures lawes restraining,
And, which with wordes can neuer be declared:
A soule twixt loue, and feare, and desperation,
And endlesse plaint, that shuns all consolation,
A spendlesse flame, that neuer is impaired:
A friendlesse death, yet life in death maintaining:
A passion, that is gaining
On him, that loueth well and is absented:
Whereby it is augmented,
Aiealousie, a burning greefe and sorrow.
These fauours louers borrow
Of thee fell Loue, these be thy recompences,
Consuming still their soule and inward-senses.

Arsileus, after that Syrenus had ended his song, began to tune his Bagpipe, and after he had played a little while vpon it, answering euerie staffe of his Com∣petitor in order, he sung as followeth.

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