Montemayor's Diana

Page 461

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Yet hold I this a heauen, as like was neuer
To see, to loue, and thinke on her for euer.

Syrenus would haue replyed to Arsileus answer, if he had not beene interrupted by Eugerius, who said. Since you must (iolly Shepherds) receiue your reward at my hands, it is good reason that you sing in such sort, as may best content me. Sing thou Syrenus first those verses which thy muse shall dictate vnto thee: and then thou Arsileus shalt sing as many againe, or those which thou shalt best thinke good of. It pleaseth vs well (said they) and then Syrenus began thus.

LEt now the goodly spring tide make vs merie,
And fieldes, which pleasant flowers do adorne,
And vales, meades, woods, with liuely colours flourish,
Let plentious flockes the Shepherds riches nourish,
Let hungrie woolues by dogs to death be torne,
And lambes reioice, with passed winter wearie:
Let euery riuers ferrie
In waters flowe, and siluer streames abounding:
And fortune, ceaslesse wounding,
Turne now thy face, so cruell and vnstable,
Be firme and fauourable:
And thou that kill’st our soules with thy pretenses,
Molest not (wicked loue) my inward senses.
Let countrie plainnes liue in ioies not ended,
In quiet of the desart meades and mountaines,
And in the pleasure of a countrie dwelling:
Let Shepherds rest, that haue distilled fountaines
Of teares: prooue not thy wrath, all paines excelling,
Vpon poore soules, that neuer haue offended:
Let thy flames be incended
In hautie courtes, in those that swim in treasure,
And liue in ease and pleasure:
And that a sweetest scorne (my woonted sadnes)
A perfect rest and gladnes
And hils and dales, may giue me: with offences
Molest not (wicked loue) my inward senses.
In what law find’st thou, that the freest reason,
And wit, vnto thy chaines should be subiected,
And harmelesse soules vnto thy cruell murder?
O wicked loue, the wretch that flieth furder
From thy extremes, thou plagu’st, O false, suspected,
And carelesse boy, that thus thy sweetes dost season,
O vile and wicked treason.
Might not thy might suffice thee, but thy fuell
Of force must be so cruell?


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