  october OCTOBER. ÆGLOGA DECIMA. ARGUMENT. In Cuddie is set out the perfect pattern of a Poet, which, finding no maintenance of his state and studies, complaineth of the contempt of Poetry, and the causes thereof: specially having been in all ages, and even amongst the most barbarous, always of singular account and honour, and being indeed so worthy and commendable an art; or rather no art, but a divine gift and heavenly instinct not to be gotten by labour and learning, but adorned with both; and poured into the wit by a certain Enthousiasmos and celestial inspiration, as the Author hereof elsewhere at large discourseth in his book called The English Poet, which book being lately come to my hands, I mind also by God's grace, upon further advisement, to publish. PIERS. CUDDIE. PIERS. Cuddie, for shame, hold up thy heavy head, And let us cast with what delight to chase And weary this long ling'ring Phoebus' race. Whilome thou wont the shepheards' lads to lead In rhymes, in riddles, and in bidding base; Now they in thee, and thou in sleep, art dead. CUD. Piers, I have piped erst so long with pain, That all mine oaten reeds be rent and wore, And my poor Muse hath spent her spared store, Yet little good hath got, and much less gain. Such pleasance makes the grasshopper so poor, And lig so laid, when winter doth her strain. The dapper ditties, that I wont devise, To feed youth's fancy, and the flocking fry, Delighten much; what I the bett forthy? They have the pleasure, I a slender prise: I beat the bush, the birds to them do fly: What good thereof to Cuddie can arise? PIERS. Cuddie, the praise is better than the price, The glory eke much greater than the gain: O what an honour is it, to restrain The lust of lawless youth with good advice, Or prick them forth with pleasance of thy vein, Whereto thou list their trained wills entice! Soon as thou 'ginn'st to set thy notes in frame, O how the rural routs to thee do cleave! Seemeth thou dost their soul of sense bereave, All as the shepheard that did fetch his dame From Pluto's baleful bower withouten leave; His music's might the hellish hound did tame. CUD. So praisen babes the peacock's spotted train, And wondren at bright Argus' blazing eye; But who rewards him e'er the more forthy, Or feeds him once the fuller by a grain? Such praise is smoke, that sheddeth in the sky; Such words be wind, and wasten soon in vain. PIERS. Abandon then the base and viler clown; Lift up thyself out of the lowly dust, And sing of bloody Mars, of wars, of giusts; Turn thee to those that wield the awful crown, To doubted knights, whose woundless armour rusts, And helms unbruised waxen daily brown. There may thy Muse display her flutt'ring wing, And stretch herself at large from east to west; Whither thou list in fair Elisa Or, if thee please in bigger notes to sing, Advance the Worthy whom she loveth best, That first the White Bear to the stake did bring. And, when the stubborn stroke of stronger stounds Has somewhat slack'd the tenor of thy string, Of love and lustihead then mayst thou sing, And carol loud, and lead the Miller's round, All were Elisa one of thilk same ring; So might our Cuddie's name to heaven sound. CUD. Indeed the Romish Tityrus, I hear, Through his MecÆnas left his oaten reed, Whereon he erst had taught his flocks to feed, And laboured lands to yield the timely ear, And eft did sing of wars and deadly dreed So as the heavens did quake his verse to hear. But ah! MecÆnas is yclad in clay, And great Augustus long ago is dead, And all the worthies liggen wrapt in lead, That matter made for poets on to play: For ever, who in derring-do were dread, The lofty verse of them was loved aye. But after Virtue gan for age to stoop, And mighty Manhood brought a bed of ease, The vaunting poets found nought worth a pease To put in press among the learned troop; Then gan the streams of flowing wits to cease, And sunbright honour penn'd in shameful coop. And if that any buds of Poesy, Yet of the old stock, gan to shoot again, Or it men's follies must to-force to feign, And roll with rest in rhymes of ribaudry; Or, as it sprung, it wither must again; Tom Piper makes us better melody. PIERS. O peerless Po'sy! where is then thy place? If nor in princes' palace thou dost sit, (And yet is princes' palace the most fit,) Ne breast of baser birth doth thee embrace, Then make thee wings of thine aspiring wit, And, whence thou cam'st, fly back to heaven apace. CUD. Ah! Percy, it is all-to weak and wan, So high to soar and make so large a flight; Her pieced pinions be not so in plight: For Colin fits such famous flight to scan; He, were he not with love so ill bedight, Would mount as high and sing as sweet as swan. PIERS. Ah! fon; for Love does teach him climb so high, And lifts him up out of the loathsome mire; Such immortal mirror, as he doth admire, Would raise one's mind above the starry sky, And cause a caitiff courage to aspire; For lofty love doth loathe a lowly eye. CUD. All otherwise the state of Poet stands; For lordly Love is such a tyrant fell, That, where he rules, all power he doth expel; The vaunted verse a vacant head demands, Ne wont with crabbed care the Muses dwell: Unwisely weaves, that takes two webs in hand. Who ever casts to compass weighty prize, And thinks to throw out thund'ring words of threat, Let pour in lavish cups and thrifty bits of meat, For Bacchus' fruit is friend to Phoebus wise; And, when with wine the brain begins to sweat, The numbers flow as fast as spring doth rise. Thou kenst not, Percie, how the rhyme should rage; O if my temples were distain'd with wine, And girt in garlands of wild ivy twine, How I could rear the Muse on stately stage, And teach her tread aloft in buskin fine, With quaint Bellona in her equipage! But ah! my courage cools ere it be warm: Forthy content us in this humble shade, Where no such troublous tides have us assay'd; Here we our slender pipes may safely charm. PIERS. And, when my goats shall have their bellies laid, Cuddie shall have a kid to store his farm. CUDDIE'S EMBLEME. Agitante calescimus illo, etc. cuddie's emblem |
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