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"For all that from her springs, and is ybredde,
However fayre it flourish for a time,
Yet see we soone decay; and, being dead,
To turne again unto their earthly slime:
Yet, out of their decay and mortall crime,
We daily see new creatures to arize,
And of their winter spring another prime,
Unlike in forme, and chang'd by strange disguise:
So turne they still about, and change in restlesse wise.

"As for her tenants; that is, man and beasts;
The beasts we daily see massacred dy

As thralls and vassals unto mens beheasts;
And men themselves doe change continually,
From youth to eld, from wealth to poverty,
From good to bad, from bad to worst of all:
Ne doe their bodies only flit and fly;

But eeke their minds (which they immortall call) Still change and vary thoughts, as new occasions fall.

"Ne is the Water in more constant case;
Whether those same on high, or these belowe:
For th' ocean moveth still from place to place;
And every river still doth ebbe and flowe;
Ne any lake, that seems most still and slowe,
Ne poole so small, that can his smoothnesse holde
When any winde doth under Heaven blowe;
With which the clouds are also tost and roll'd,
Now like great hills; and streight, like sluces, them
unfold.

"So likewise are all watry living wights
Still tost and turned with continuall change,
Never abyding in their stedfast plights:
The fish, still floting, doe at randon range,
And never rest, but evermore exchange
Their dwelling places, as the streames them carrie:
Ne have the watry foules a certaine grange
Wherein to rest, ne in one stead do tarry;
But flitting still doe flie, and still their places vary.
"Next is the Ayre: which who feeles not by sense
(For of all sense it is the middle meane)
To flit still, and with subtill influence
Of his thin spirit all creatures to maintaine
In state of life? O weake life! that does leane
On thing so tickle as th' unsteady ayre,
Which every howre is chang'd, and altred cleane
With every blast that bloweth fowle or faire:
The faire doth it prolong; the fowle doth it impaire.
"Therein the changes infinite beholde,
Which to her creatures every minute chaunce;
Now boyling hot; streight friezing deadly cold;
Now faire sun-shine, that makes all skip and daunce;
Streight bitter storms, and balefull countenance
That makes them all to shiver and to shake:

Rayne, hayle, and snowe do pay them sad penance,
And dreadfull thunder-claps (that make them
quake)
[changes make.
With flames and flashing lights that thousand
"Last is the Fire; which, though it live for ever,
Ne can be quenched quite; yet, every day,
We see his parts, so soone as they do sever,
To lose their heat and shortly to decay;
So makes himself his owne consuming pray:
Ne any living creatures doth he breed;
But all, that are of others bredd, doth slay;
And with their death his cruell life dooth feed;
Nought leaving but their barren ashes without seede.

[bee

"Thus all these fower (the which the groundwork
Of all the world and of all living wights)
To thousand sorts of change we subject see:
Yet are they chang'd by other wondrous slights
Into themselves, and lose their native mights;
The Fire to Aire, and th' Ayre to Water sheere,
And Water into Earth; yet Water fights
With Fire, and Aire with Earth, approaching neere;
Yet all are in one body, and as one appeare.

"So in them all raignes Mutabilitie;
However these, that gods themselves do call,
Of them doe claime the rule and soverainty;
As Vesta, of the fire æthereall;
Vulcan, of this with us so usuall;

Ops, of the earth; and Iuno, of the ayre;
Neptune, of seas; and nymphes, of rivers all:
For all those rivers to me subiect are;

And all the rest, which they usurp, be all my share.

"Which to approven true, as I have told,
Vouchsafe, O goddesse, to thy presence call
The rest which doe the world in being hold;
As Times and Seasons of the yeare that fall:
Of all the which demand in general,
Or iudge thyselfe, by verdit of thine eye,
Whether to me they are not subiect all."
Nature did yeeld thereto; and by-and-by
Bade Order call them all before her malesty.

So forth issew'd the Seasons of the yeare:
First, lusty Spring all dight in leaves of flowres
That freshly budded and new bloosmes did beare,
In which a thousand birds had built their bowres
That sweetly sung to call forth paramours;
And in his hand a iavelin he did beare,
And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures)
A guilt engraven morion he did weare;
That as some did him love, so others did him feare.

Then came the iolly Sommer, being dight
In a thin silken cassock coloured greene,
That was unlyned all, to be more light:
And on his head a girlond well beseene
He wore, from which as he bad chauffed been
The sweat did drop; and in his hand he bore
A bowe and shaftes, as he in forrest greene
Had hunted late the libbard or the bore,
And now would bathe his limbes with labor heated

sore.

Then came the Autumne all in yellow clad,
As though he ioyed in his plentious store,
Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad
That he had banisht hunger, which to-fore
Had by the belly oft him pinched sore:
With ears of corne of every sort, he bore;
Upon his head a wreath, that was enrold
And in his hand a sickle he did holde, [yold.
To reape the ripened fruits the which the earth had
Lastly, came Winter cloathed all in frize,
Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill;
Whil'st on his hoary beard his breath did freese,
And the dull drops, that from his purpled bill
As from a limbeck did adown distill:
In his right hand a tipped staffe he held,
With which his feeble steps he stayed still;
For he was faint with cold, and weak with eld;
That scarse his loosed limbes he hable was to weld.

These, marching softly, thus in order went.
And after them the Monthes all riding came:
First, sturdy March, with brows ful! sternly bent
And armed strongly, rode upon a Ram,
The same which over Hellespontus swam;
Yet in his hand a spade he also hent,
And in a bag all sorts of seeds ysame,
Which on the earth he strowed as he went, [ment.
And fild her womb with fruitfull hope of nourish-

Next came fresh Aprill, full of lustyhed,
And wanton as a kid whose horne new buds:
Upon a Bull he rode, the same which led
Europa floting through th' Argolick fluds:
His hornes were gilden all with golden studs,
And garnished with garlonds goodly dight
Of all the fairest flowres and freshest buds
Which th' earth brings forth; and wet he seem'd
in sight
[delight.
With waves, through which he waded for his loves

Then came faire May, the fayrest mayd on ground,
Deckt all with dainties of her seasons pryde,
And throwing flowres out of her lap around:
Upon two brethrens shoulders she did ride,
The Twinnes of Leda; which on eyther side
Supported her like to their soveraine queene;
Lord! how all creatures laught when her they spide,
And leapt and daunc't as they had ravisht beene!
And Cupid selfe about her fluttred all in greene.

And after her came iolly Iune, arrayd
All in greene leaves, as he a player were;
Yet in his time he wrought as well as playd,
That by his plough-yrons mote right well appeare:
Upon a Crab he rode, that him did beare
With crooked crawling steps an uncouth pase,
And backward yode, as bargemen wont to fare
Bending their force contrary to their face; [grace.
Like that ungracious crew which faines demurest

Then came hot Iuly boyling like to fire,
That all his garinents he bad cast away:
Upon a Lyon raging yet with ire

He boldly rode, and made him to obay:
(It was the beast that whylome did forray
The Nemean forrest, till th' Amphytrionide
Him slew, and with his hide did him array:)
Behinde his backe a sithe, and by his side
Under his belt he bore a sickle circling wide.

The sixt was August, being rich arrayd
In garment all of gold downe to the ground:
Yet rode he not, but led a lovely mayd
Forth by the lilly hand, the which was cround
With eares of corne, and full her hand was found:
That was the righteous Virgin, which of old
Liv'd here on Earth, and plenty made abound;
But, after wrong was lov'd and iustice solde,
She left th' unrighteous world, and was to Heaven
extold.

Next bim September marched eeke on foote;
Yet was he heavy laden with the spoyle
Of harvests riches, which he made his boot,
And him enricht with bounty of the soyle:
In his one hand, as fit for harvests toyle,
He held a knife-hook; and in th' other hand
A Paire of Waights, with which he did assoyle
Both more and lesse, where it in doubt did stand,
And equall gave to each as Iustice duly scann'd.

Then came October full of merry glee;
For yet his noule was totty of the must,
Which he was treading in the wine-fats see,
And of the ioyous oyle, whose gentle gust
Made him so frollick and so full of Inst:
Upon a dreadfull Scorpion he did ride,
The same which by Dianaes doom uniust
Slew great Orion; and eeke by his side
He had his ploughing-share and coulter ready tyde.

Next was November; he full grosse and fat
As fed with lard, and that right well might seeme;
For he had been a fatting hogs of late,
That yet his browes with sweat did reek and steem,
And yet the season was full sharp and breem;
In planting ecke he took no small delight:
Whereon he rode, not easie was to deeme;
For it a dreadfull Centaure was in sight,
The seed of Saturne and faire Nais, Chiron hight.

And after him came next the chill December:
Yet he, through merry feasting which he made
And great bonfires, did not the cold remember;
His Saviours birth his mind so much did glad:
Upon a shaggy-bearded Goat he rode,
The same wherewith Dan love in tender yeares,
They say, was nourisht by th' læan mayd;
And in his hand a broad deepe bowle he beares,
Of which he freely drinks an health to all his peeres..

Then came old Ianuary, wrapped well
In many weeds to keep the cold away;
Yet did he quake and quiver like to quell,
And blowe his nayles to warme them if he may;
For they were numbd with holding all the day
An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood
And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray :
Upon an huge great Earth-pot Steane be stood,
From whose wide mouth there flowed forth the Ro-
mane flood.

And lastly came cold February, sitting
In an old wagon, for he could not ride,
Drawne of two Fishes for the season fitting,
Which through the flood before did softly slyde
And swim away; yet had he by his side
His plough and harnesse fit to till the ground,
And tooles to prune the trees, before the pride
Of hasting Prime did make them burgein round.
So past the twelve Months forth, and their dew
places found.

And after these there came the Day and Night,
Riding together both with equall pase;
Th' one on a palfrey blacke, the other white:
But Night had covered her uncomely face
With a blacke veile, and held in hand a mace,
On top whereof the Moon and stars were pight,
And Sleep and Darknesse round about did trace:
But Day did beare upon his scepters hight
The goodly Sun encompast all with beamës bright.
Then came the Howres, faire daughters of high love
And timely Night; the which were all endewed
With wondrous beauty fit to kindle love;
But they were virgins all, and love eschewed
That might forslack the charge to them foreshewed
By mighty love; who did them porters make
Of Heavens gate (whence all the gods issued)
Which they did dayly watch, and nightly wake
By even turnes, ne ever did their charge forsake.

And after all came Life; and lastly Death:
Death with most grim and grisly visage seene,
Yet is he nought but parting of the breath;
Ne ought to see, but like a shade to weene,
Unbodied, unsoul'd, unheard, unseene:
But Life was like a faire young lusty boy,
Such as they faine Dan Cupid to have beene,
Full of delightfull health and lively ioy, [ploy.
Deckt all with flowres and wings of gold fit to em-

When these were past, thus gan the Titanesse ;
"Lo! mighty mother, now be judge, and say
Whether in all thy creatures more or lesse
Change doth not raign and bear the greatest sway:
For who sees not that Time on all doth pray?
But times do change and move continually:
So nothing here long standeth in one stay:
Wherefore this lower world who can deny
But to be subiect still to Mutabilitie!"

Then thus gan Jove; "Right true it is that these
And all things else that under Heaven dwell
Are chaung'd of Time, who doth them all disseise
Of being: but who is it (to me tell)
That Time himselfe doth move and still compell
To keepe his course? Is not that namely wee,
Which poure that vertue from our heavenly cell
That moves them all, and makes them changed be?
So them we gods doe rule, and in them also thee."

To whom thus Mutability; "The things,
Which we see not how they are mov'd and swayd,
Ye may attribute to yourselves as kings,
And say, they by your secret power are made:
But what we see not, who shall us perswade?
But were they so, as ye them faine to be,
Mov'd by your might, and ordered by your ayde,
Yet what if I can prove, that even yee [mee?
Yourselves are likewise chang'd, and subiect unto

"And first, concerning her that is the first,
Even you, faire Cynthia; whom so much ye make
Ioves dearest darling, she was bred and nurst
On Cynthus hill, whence she her name did take;
Then is she mortall borne, howso ye crake:
Besides, her face and countenance every day
We changed see and sundry forms partake, [gray:
Now hornd, now round, now bright, now brown and
So that as changefull as the Moone men use to say.

A

"Next Mercury; who though he lesse appeare
To change his hew, and alwayes seeme as one;
Yet he his course doth alter every yeare,
And is of late far out of order gone :
So Venus eeke, that goodly paragone,
Though faire all night, yet is she darke all day:
And Phoebus self, who lightsome is alone,
Yet is he oft eclipsed by the way,

And fills the darkned world with terror and dismay.

"Now Mars, that valiant man, is changed most;
For he sometimes so far runs out of square,
That he his way doth seem quite to have lost,
And cleane without his usuall sphere to fare;
That even these star-gazers stonisht are
At sight thereof, and damne their lying bookes:
So likewise grim sir Saturne oft doth spare
His sterne aspect, and calme his crabbed lookes:
So many turning cranks these have, so many
crookes.

"But you, Dan love, that only constant are,
And king of all the rest, as ye do clame,
Are you not subject eeke to this misfare?
Then let me aske you this withouten blame;
Where were ye borne? some say in Crete by name,
Others in Thebes, and others otherwhere;
But, wheresoever they comment the same,
They all consent that ye begotten were [peare.
And borne here in this world; ne other can ap-

"Then are ye mortall borne, and thrall to me;
Unlesse the kingdome of the sky yee make
Immortall and unchangeable to be:
Besides, that power and vertue, which ye spake,
That ye here worke, doth many changes take,
Aud your owne natures change: for each of you,
That vertue have or this or that to make,
Is checkt and changed from his nature trew,
By others opposition or obliquid view.

"Besides, the sundry motions of your spheares,
So sundry waies and fashions as clerkes faine,
Some in short space, and some in longer yeares;
What is the same but alteration plaine?
Onely the starrie skie doth still remaine:
Yet do the starres and signes therein still move,
And even itself is moved, as wizards saine:
But all that moveth doth mutation love:
Therefore both you and them to me I subiect prove.

"Then since within this wide great universe
Nothing doth firme and permanent appeare,
But all things tost and turned by transverse;
What then should let, but I aloft should reare
My trophee, and from all the triumph beare?
Now judge then, O thou greatest goddesse trew,
According as thyselfe doest see and heare,
And unto me addoom that is my dew;
That is, the rule of all; all being rul'd by you."

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CANTO VIII.

UNPERFITE.

WHEN I bethinke me on that speech whyleare
Of Mutability, and well it way;

Me seemes, that though she all unworthy were
Of the Heav'ns rule; yet, very sooth to say,
In all things else she bears the greatest sway:
Which makes me loath this state of life so tickle,
And love of things so vaine to cast away;

Whose flowring pride, so fading and so fickle, Short Time shall soon cut down with his consuming sickle!

Then gin I thinke on that which Nature sayd,
Of that same time when no more change shall be,
But stedfast rest of all things, firmely stayd
Upon the pillours of Eternity,

That is contrayr to Mutabilitie:

For all that moveth doth in change delight:
But thenceforth all shall rest eternally
With him that is the God of Sabaoth hight:
O! that great Sabaoth God, grant me that sabbaths
sight!

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Most brave and bountifull la: for so excellent favours as I have received at your sweet handes, to offer these fewe leaves as in recompence, should be as to offer flowers to the gods for their divine benefites. Therefore I have determined to give my selfe wholy to you, as quite abandoned from my selfe, and absolutely vowed to your services: which in all right is ever held for full recompence of debt or damage, to have the person yeelded. My person I wot wel how little worth it is. But the faithfull minde & humble zeale which I bear unto your la: may perhaps be more of price, as may please you to account and use the poore service therof; which taketh glory to advance your excellent partes and noble vertues, and to spend it selfe in honouring you; not so much for your great bounty to my self, which yet may not be unminded; nor for name or kindreds sake by you vouchsafed; being also regardable; as for that honorable name, which yee have by your brave deserts purchast to your selfe, and spred in the mouths of all men: with which I have also presumed to grace my verses; and, under your name, to commend to the world this small poëme. The which beseeching your la: to take in worth, & of all things therin according to your wonted graciousnes to make a milde construction, I humbly pray for your happines.

Your la: ever humbly;

E. S.

MUIOPOTMOS:

OR THE

FATE OF THE BUTTERFLIE.

I SING of deadly dolorous debate,
Stir'd up through wrathfull Nemesis despight,
Betwixt two mightie ones of great estate,
Drawne into armes, and proofe of mortall fight,
Through prowd ambition and hart-swelling hate,
Whilst neither could the others greater might
And sdeignfull scorne endure; that from small iarre
Their wraths at length broke into open warre.

Vouchsafe, O thou the mournfulst Muse of nyne,
The roote whereof and tragicall effect,
That wont'st the tragick stage for to direct,
In funerall complaints and wailefull tyne,
Through which sad Clarion did at last decline
Reveale to me, and all the meanes detect,
To lowest wretchednes: and is there then
Such rancour in the harts of mightie men?

Of all the race of silver-winged flies
Which doe possesse the empire of the aire,
Betwixt the centred Earth, and azure skies,
Was none more favourable, nor more faire,
Whilst Heaven did favour his felicities,
Of Muscaroll, and in his fathers sight
Then Clarion, the eldest sonne and heire
Of all alive did seeme the fairest wight.

With fruitfull hope his aged breast he fed
Of future good, which his young toward yeares,
Full of brave courage and bold hardyhed
Above th' ensample of his equall peares,
(Whilst oft his heart did melt in tender teares)
Did largely promise, and to him fore-red,
That he in time would sure prove such an one,
As should be worthie of his fathers throne.

The fresh young flie, in whom the kindly fire of lustfull yongth began to kindle fast,

Did much disdaine to subiect his desire

To loathsome sloth, or houres in ease to wast, But ioy'd to range abroad in fresh attire, Through the wide compas of the ayrie coast; And, with unwearied wings, each part t' inquire Of the wide rule of his renowmed sire.

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