O

ENGLANDS HELICON.

The Sheepheard to his chosen Nimph.

Nely ioy, now heere you are,
Fit to heare and ease my care:
Let my whispring voyce obtaine,
Sweet reward for sharpest paine.
Take me to thee, and thee to me,
No, no, no, no, my Deere, let be.

Night hath clos'd all in her cloke,
Twinkling starres Loue-thoughts prouoke,
Daunger hence good care dooth keepe,
lealousie it selfe dooth sleepe.

Take me to thee, and thee to me:
No, no, no, no, my Deere, let be.

Better place no wit can finde,
Cupids yoake to loose or binde,
These sweet flowers on fine bed too,
Vs in their best language woo,

Take me to thee, and thee to me:
No, no, no, no, my Deere, let be.

This small light the Moone bestowes,
Serues thy beames but to enclose,
So to raise my hap more hie,
Feare not else, none can vs spie.

Take me to thee, and thee to me:
No, no, no, no, my Deare, let be.

B.

That

That you heard was but a Mouse,

Dumbe sleepe holdeth all the house,
Yet a-sleepe me thinks they say,

Young folkes, take time while you may.
Take me to thee, and thee to me:

No, no, no, no, my Deare, let be.

Niggard Time threats, if we misse
This large offer of our blisse,
Long stay, ere he graunt the same,
(Sweet then) while each thing dooth frame,
Take me to thee, and thee to me:
No, no, no, no, my Deere, let be.

Your faire Mother is a bed,
Candles out, and Curtaines spred,
doo Letters write,
Write, but let me first indite.

She thinks you

Take me to thee, and thee to me,
No, no, no, no, my Deere, let be.

Sweete (alas) why striue you thus?
Concord better fitteth vs.
Leaue to Mars the force of hands,
Your power in your beauty stands.

Take me to thee, and thee to me:
No, no, no, no, my Deare, let be.

Woe to me, and you doo sweare
Me to hate, but I forbeare,

Cursed be my destenies all,

That brought me to so high a fall.

Soone with my death I will please thee:
No, no, no, no, my Deare, let be.

FINIS.

S. Phil. Sidney.

THEO

Y

THE ORELLO.
A Sheepheards Edillion.

Ou Sheepheards which on hillocks sit,
like Princes in their throanes:

And guide your flocks, which else would flit,
your flocks of little ones:

Good Kings haue not disdained it,

but Sheepheards haue beene named:
A sheepe-hooke is a Scepter fit,
for people well reclaimed.

The Sheepheards life so honour'd is and praised:
That Kings lesse happy seeme, though higher raised.

The Sommer Sunne hath guilded faire,

with morning rayes the mountaines: The birds doo caroll in the ayre,

and naked Nimphs in Fountaines. The Siluanes in their shagged haire, with Hamadriades trace:

The shadie Satires make a Quiere, which rocks with Ecchoes grace. All breathe delight, all solace in the season: Not now to sing, were enemie to reason.

Cosma my Loue, and more then so,

the life of mine affections:

Nor life alone, but Lady too,

and Queene of their directions.

Cosma my Loue, is faire you know,

and which you Sheepheards know not: Is (Sophi said) thence called so,

but names her beauty showe not. Yet hath the world no better name then she:

And then the world, no fairer thing can be.

The Sunne vpon her fore-head stands,
(or iewell Sunne-like glorious,)

B. 2.

Her

Her fore-head wrought with Ioues owne hands,
for heauenly white notorious.
Her golden lockes like Hermus sands,
(or then bright Hermus brighter:)
A spangled Cauill binds in with bands,
then siluer morning lighter.

And if the Planets are the chiefe in skies:

No other starres then Planets are her eyes.

Her cheeke, her lip, fresh cheeke, more fresh,
then selfe-blowne buds of Roses:

Rare lip, more red then those of flesh,

which thousand sweetes encloses:

Sweet breath, which all things dooth refresh,
and words than breath farre sweeter:
Cheeke firme, lip firme, not fraile nor nesh,
as substance which is fleeter.

In praise doo not surmount, although in placing:
Her christall necke, round breast, and armes embracing.

The thorough-shining ayre I weene,
is not so perfect cleare:
As is the skie of her faire skinne,

whereon no spots appeare.

The parts which ought not to be seene,
for soueraigne woorth excell:

Her thighs with Azure braunched beene,
and all in her are well.

Long Iuorie hands, legges straighter then the Pine:
Well shapen feete, but vertue most diuine.

Nor cloathed like a Sheepheardesse,
but rather like a Queene:

Her mantle dooth the formes expresse,
of all which may be seene.

Roabe fitter for an Empresse,

then for a Sheepheards loue:

Roabe

Roabe fit alone for such a Lasse,

as Emperours doth moue.

Roabe which heauens Queene, the bride of her owne brother,

Would

grace

herselfe with, or with such another.

Who euer (and who else but Ioue)

embroidered the same:

Hee knew the world, and what did moue,
in all the mightie frame.

So well (belike his skill to proue)

the counterfeits he wrought:

Of wood-Gods, and of euery groaue,
and all which else was ought.

Is there a beast, a bird, a fish worth noate?
Then that he drew, and picturde in her coate.

A vaile of Lawne like vapour thin
vnto her anckle trailes:
Through which the shapes discerned bin,
as too and fro it sailes.
Shapes both of men, who neuer lin

to search her wonders out:
Of monsters and of Gods a kin,

which her empale about.

A little world her flowing garment seemes:
And who but as a wonder thereof deemes?

For heere and there appeare forth towers,
among the chalkie downes:
Citties among the Country bowers,

which smiling Sun-shine crownes.
Her mettall buskins deckt with flowers,
as th'earth when frosts are gone:
Besprinckled are with Orient showers
of hayle and pebble stone.
Her feature peerelesse, peerelesse her attire,
I can but loue her loue, with zeale entire.