  august AUGUST. ÆGLOGA OCTAVA. ARGUMENT. In this Æglogue is set forth a delectable controversy, made in imitation of that in Theocritus: whereto also Virgil fashioned his third and seventh Æglogue. They chose for umpire of their strife, Cuddy, a neat-herd's boy; who, having ended their cause, reciteth also himself a proper song, whereof Colin he saith was author. WILLIE. PERIGOT. CUDDIE. WILLIE. Tell me, Perigot, what shall be the game, Wherefore with mine thou dare thy music match? Or be thy bagpipes run far out of frame? Or hath the cramp thy joints benumb'd with ache? PER. Ah! Willie, when the heart is ill assay'd, How can bagpipe or joints be well apaid? WIL. What the foul evil hath thee so bestad? Whilome thou was peregall to the best, And wont to make the jolly shepheards glad, With piping and dancing didst pass the rest. PER. Ah! Willie, now I have learn'd a new dance; My old music marr'd by a new mischance. WIL. Mischief might to that mischance befall, That so hath reft us of our merriment; But rede me what pain doth thee so appal; Or lovest thou, or be thy younglings miswent? PER. Love hath misled both my younglings and me; I pine for pain, and they my pain to see. WIL. Perdie, and wellaway! ill may they thrive; Never knew I lover's sheep in good plight: But and if in rhymes with me thou dare strive, Such fond fantasies shall soon be put to flight. PER. That shall I do, though mochell worse I fared: Never shall be said that Perigot was dared. WIL. Then lo, Perigot, the pledge which I plight, A mazer ywrought of the maple warre, Wherein is enchased many a fair sight Of bears and tigers, that maken fierce war; And over them spread a goodly wild vine, Entrailed with a wanton ivy twine. Thereby is a lamb in the wolvËs jaws; But see, how fast runneth the shepheard swain To save the innocent from the beast's paws, And here with his sheephook hath him slain. Tell me, such a cup hast thou ever seen? Well might it beseem any harvest queen. PER. Thereto will I pawn yonder spotted lamb; Of all my flock there n'is such another, For I brought him up without the dam; But Colin Clout reft me of his brother, That he purchas'd of me in the plain field; Sore against my will was I forc'd to yield. WIL. Sicker, make like account of his brother; But who shall judge the wager won or lost? PER. That shall yonder herdgroom and none other, Which over the pease hitherward doth post. WIL. But, for the sunbeam so sore doth us beat, Were not better to shun the scorching heat? PER. Well agreed, Willie; then set thee down, swain; Such a song never heardest thou but Colin sing. CUD. 'Gin, when ye list, ye jolly shepheards twain; Such a judge, as Cuddie, were for a king. PER. It fell upon a holy eve, WIL. Hey, ho, holiday! PER. When holy Fathers wont to shrieve; WIL. Now ginneth this roundelay. PER. Sitting upon a hill so high, WIL. Hey, ho, the high hill! PER. The while my flock did feed thereby; WIL. The while the shepheard self did spill; PER. I saw the bouncing Bellibone, WIL. Hey, ho, Bonnibell! PER. Tripping over the dale alone; WIL. She can trip it very well. PER. Well decked in a frock of gray, WIL. Hey, ho, gray is greet! PER. And in a kirtle of green saye, WIL. The green is for maidens meet. PER. A chapelet on her head she wore, WIL. Hey, ho, chapelet! PER. Of sweet violets therein was store, WIL. She sweeter than the violet. PER. My sheep did leave their wonted food, WIL. Hey, ho, seely sheep! PER. And gaz'd on her as they were wood, WIL. Wood as he that did them keep. PER. As the bonilass passed by, WIL. Hey, ho, bonilass! PER. She rov'd at me with glancing eye, WIL. As clear as the crystal glass: PER. All as the sunny beam so bright, WIL. Hey, ho, the sun-beam! PER. Glanceth from Phoebus' face forthright, WIL. So love into thy heart did stream: PER. Or as the thunder cleaves the clouds, WIL. Hey, ho, the thunder! PER. Wherein the lightsome levin shrouds, WIL. So cleaves thy soul asunder: PER. Or as Dame Cynthia's silver ray, WIL. Hey, ho, the moonlight! PER. Upon the glittering wave doth play, WIL. Such play is a piteous plight. PER. The glance into my heart did glide, WIL. Hey, ho, the glider! PER. Therewith my soul was sharply gryde, WIL. Such wounds soon waxen wider. PER. Hasting to wrench the arrow out, WIL. Hey, ho, Perigot! PER. I left the head in my heart-root, WIL. It was a desperate shot. PER. There it rankleth aye more and more, WIL. Hey, ho, the arrow! PER. Ne can I find salve for my sore, WIL. Love is a careless sorrow. PER. And though my bale with death I bought, WIL. Hey, ho, heavy cheer! PER. Yet should thilk lass not from my thought, WIL. So you may buy gold too dear. PER. But whether in painful love I pine, WIL. Hey, ho, pinching pain! PER. Or thrive in wealth, she shall be mine, WIL. But if thou can her obtain. PER. And if for graceless grief I die, WIL. Hey, ho, graceless grief! PER. Witness she slew me with her eye, WIL. Let thy folly be the prief. PER. And you, that saw it, simple sheep, WIL. Hey, ho, the fair flock! PER. For prief thereof, my death shall weep, WIL. And moan with many a mock. PER. So learn'd I love on a holy eve, WIL. Hey, ho, holy-day! PER. That ever since my heart did grieve, WIL. Now endeth our roundelay." CUD. Sicker, such a roundel never heard I none; Little lacketh Perigot of the best, And Willie is not greatly overgone, So weren his under-songs well addrest. WIL. Herdgroom, I fear me thou have a squint eye; Arede uprightly, who has the victory. CUD. Faith of my soul, I deem each have gained; Forthy let the lamb be Willie his own; And for Perigot, so well hath him pained, To him be the wroughten mazer alone. PER. Perigot is well pleased with the doom, Ne can Willie wite the witeless herdgroom. WIL. Never dempt more right of beauty, I ween, The shepheard of Ida that judged Beauty's queen. CUD. But tell me, shepheards, should it not yshend Your roundels fresh, to hear a doleful verse Of Rosalind (who knows not Rosalind?) That Colin made? ilk can I you rehearse. PER. Now say it, Cuddie, as thou art a lad; With merry thing it's good to medle sad. WIL. Faith of my soul, thou shalt ycrowned be In Colin's stead, if thou this song arede; For never thing on earth so pleaseth me As him to hear, or matter of his deed. CUD. Then listen each unto my heavy lay, And tune your pipes as ruthful as ye may. "Ye wasteful Woods! bear witness of my woe, Wherein my plaints did oftentimes resound; Ye careless Birds are privy to my cries, Which in your songs were wont to make a part: Thou, pleasant Spring, hast lull'd me oft asleep, Whose streams my trickling tears did oft augment! "Resort of people doth my griefs augment, The walled towns do work my greater woe; The forest wide is fitter to resound The hollow echo of my careful cries. I hate the house, since thence my love did part, Whose wailful want debars mine eyes of sleep. "Let streams of tears supply the place of sleep; Let all, that sweet is, void; and all, that may augment My dole, draw near! More meet to wail my woe Be the wild woods, my sorrows to resound, Than bed, nor bower, both which I fill with cries, When I them see so waste, and find no part "Of pleasure past. Here will I dwell apart In gastful grove therefore, till my last sleep Do close mine eyes; so shall I not augment With sight of such as change my restless woe. Help me, ye baneful Birds! whose shrieking sound Is sign of dreary death, my deadly cries "Most ruthfully to tune: and as my cries (Which of my woe cannot bewray least part) You hear all night, when Nature craveth sleep, Increase, so let your irksome yells augment. Thus all the nights in plaints, the day in woe, I vowed have to waste, till safe and sound "She home return, whose voice's silver sound To cheerful songs can change my cheerless cries. Hence with the nightingale will I take part, That blessed bird, that spends her time of sleep In songs and plaintive pleas, the more t' augment The memory of his misdeed that bred her woe. "And you that feel no woe, when as the sound Of these my nightly cries ye hear apart, Let break your sounder sleep, and pity augment." PER. O Colin, Colin! the shepheards' joy, How I admire each turning of thy verse; And Cuddie, fresh Cuddie, the liefest boy, How dolefully his dole thou didst rehearse! CUD. Then blow your pipes, shepheards, till you be at home; The night hieth fast, it's time to be gone. |
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