Of this author--Thomas Turberville--once famous in the reign of Queen
Elizabeth, but now almost totally forgotten, and whose works are
altogether omitted in most selections, we have preserved a little. He
was a voluminous author, having produced, besides many original pieces,
a translation of Ovid's Heroical Epistles, from which Warton has
selected a short specimen.
IN PRAISE OP THE RENOWNED LADY ANNE, COUNTESS OF
WARWICK.
When Nature first in hand did take
The clay to frame this Countess' corse,
The earth a while she did forsake,
And was compell'd of very force,
With mould in hand, to flee to skies,
To end the work she did devise.
The gods that then in council sate,
Were half-amazed, against their kind,[1]
To see so near the stool of state
Dame Nature stand, that was assign'd
Among her worldly imps[2] to wonne,[3]
As she until that day had done.
First Jove began: 'What, daughter dear,
Hath made thee scorn thy father's will?
Why do I see thee, Nature, here,
That ought'st of duty to fulfil
Thy undertaken charge at home?
What makes thee thus abroad to roam?
'Disdainful dame, how didst thou dare,
So reckless to depart the ground
That is allotted to thy share?'
And therewithal his godhead frown'd.
'I will,' quoth Nature, 'out of hand,
Declare the cause I fled the land.
'I undertook of late a piece
Of clay a featured face to frame,
To match the courtly dames of Greece,
That for their beauty bear the name;
But, O good father, now I see
This work of mine it will not be.
'Vicegerent, since you me assign'd
Below in earth, and gave me laws
On mortal wights, and will'd that kind
Should make and mar, as she saw cause:
Of right, I think, I may appeal,
And crave your help in this to deal.'
When Jove saw how the case did stand,
And that the work was well begun,
He pray'd to have the helping hand
Of other gods till he had done:
With willing minds they all agreed,
And set upon the clay with speed.
First Jove each limb did well dispose,
And makes a creature of the clay;
Next, Lady Venus she bestows
Her gallant gifts as best she may;
From face to foot, from top to toe,
She let no whit untouch'd to go.
When Venus had done what she could
In making of her carcase brave,
Then Pallas thought she might be bold
Among the rest a share to have;
A passing wit she did convey
Into this passing piece of clay.
Of Bacchus she no member had,
Save fingers fine and feat[4] to see;
Her head with hair Apollo clad,
That gods had thought it gold to be:
So glist'ring was the tress in sight
Of this new form'd and featured wight.
Diana held her peace a space,
Until those other gods had done;
'At last,' quoth she, 'in Dian's chase
With bow in hand this nymph shall run;
And chief of all my noble train
I will this virgin entertain.'
Then joyful Juno came and said,
'Since you to her so friendly are,
I do appoint this noble maid
To match with Mars his peer for war;
She shall the Countess Warwick be,
And yield Diana's bow to me.'
When to so good effect it came,
And every member had his grace,
There wanted nothing but a name:
By hap was Mercury then in place,
That said, 'I pray you all agree,
Pandora grant her name to be.
'For since your godheads forged have
With one assent this noble dame,
And each to her a virtue gave,
This term agreeth to the same.'
The gods that heard Mercurius tell
This tale, did like it passing well.
Report was summon'd then in haste,
And will'd to bring his trump in hand,
To blow therewith a sounding blast,
That might be heard through Brutus' land.
Pandora straight the trumpet blew,
That each this Countess Warwick knew.
O seely[5] Nature, born to pain,
O woful, wretched kind (I say),
That to forsake the soil were fain
To make this Countess out of clay:
But, O most friendly gods, that wold,
Vouchsafe to set your hands to mould.
[1] 'Kind:' nature.
[2] 'Imps:' children.
[3] 'Wonne:' dwell.
[4] 'Feat:' neat.
[5] 'Seely:' simple.
* * * * *
In reference to the Miscellaneous Pieces which close this period, we
need only say that the best of them is 'The Soul's Errand,' and that its
authorship is uncertain. It has, with very little evidence in any of the
cases, been ascribed to Sir Walter Raleigh, to Francis Davison, (author
of a compilation entitled 'A Poetical Rhapsody,' published in 1593, and
where 'The Soul's Errand' first appeared,) and to Joshua Sylvester, who
prints it in his volume of verses, with vile interpolations of his own.
Its outspoken energy and pithy language render it worthy of any of our
poets.
HARPALUS' COMPLAINT OF PHILLIDA'S LOVE BESTOWED ON CORIN,
WHO LOVED HER NOT, AND DENIED HIM THAT LOVED HER.
1 Phillida was a fair maid,
As fresh as any flower;
Whom Harpalus the herdman pray'd
To be his paramour.
2 Harpalus, and eke Corin,
Were herdmen both yfere:[1]
And Phillida would twist and spin,
And thereto sing full clear.
3 But Phillida was all too coy
For Harpalus to win;
For Corin was her only joy,
Who forced[2] her not a pin.
4 How often would she flowers twine,
How often garlands make
Of cowslips and of columbine,
And all for Conn's sake!
5 But Corin he had hawks to lure,
And forced more the field:
Of lovers' law he took no cure;
For once he was beguiled.
6 Harpalus prevailed nought,
His labour all was lost;
For he was furthest from her thought,
And yet he loved her most.
7 Therefore was he both pale and lean,
And dry as clod of clay:
His flesh it was consumed clean;
His colour gone away.
8 His beard it not long be shave;
His hair hung all unkempt:
A man most fit even for the grave,
Whom spiteful love had shent.[3]
9 His eyes were red, and all forwacht;[4]
It seem'd unhap had him long hatcht,
His face besprent with tears:
In midst of his despairs.
10 His clothes were black, and also bare;
As one forlorn was he;
Upon his head always he ware
A wreath of willow tree.
11 His beasts he kept upon the hill,
And he sat in the dale;
And thus with sighs and sorrows shrill
He 'gan to tell his tale.
12 'O Harpalus!' thus would he say;
Unhappiest under sun!
The cause of thine unhappy day
By love was first begun.
13 'For thou went'st first by suit to seek
A tiger to make tame,
That sets not by thy love a leek,
But makes thy grief a game.
14 'As easy it were for to convert
The frost into the flame;
As for to turn a froward hert,
Whom thou so fain wouldst frame.
15 'Cerin he liveth carëless:
He leaps among the leaves:
He eats the fruits of thy redress:
Thou reap'st, he takes the sheaves.
16 'My beasts, a while your food refrain,
And hark your herdman's sound;
Whom spiteful love, alas! hath slain,
Through girt with many a wound,
17 'O happy be ye, beastes wild,
That here your pasture takes:
I see that ye be not beguiled
Of these your faithful makes,[5]
18 'The hart he feedeth by the hind:
The buck hard by the doe:
The turtle-dove is not unkind
To him that loves her so.
19 'The ewe she hath by her the ram:
The young cow hath the bull:
The calf with many a lusty lamb
Do feed their hunger full.
20 'But, well-a-way! that nature wrought
Thee, Phillida, so fair:
For I may say that I have bought
Thy beauty all too dear.
21 'What reason is that cruelty
With, beauty should have part?
Or else that such great tyranny
Should dwell in woman's heart?
22 'I see therefore to shape my death
She cruelly is prest,[6]
To the end that I may want my breath:
My days be at the best.
23 'O Cupid, grant this my request,
And do not stop thine ears:
That she may feel within her breast
The pains of my despairs:
24 'Of Corin that is careless,
That she may crave her fee:
As I have done in great distress,
That loved her faithfully.
25 'But since that I shall die her slave,
Her slave, and eke her thrall,
Write you, my friends, upon my grave
This chance that is befall:
26 '"Here lieth unhappy Harpalus,
By cruel love now slain:
Whom Phillida unjustly thus
Hath murder'd with disdain."'
[1] 'Yfere' together.
[2] 'Forced' cared for.
[3] 'Shent:' spoiled.
[4] 'Forwacht:' from much watching.
[5] 'Makes:' mates.
[6] 'Prest:' ready.