Fair-Virtue the Mistress of Philarete, Poem · Floating text 5
The Nymphs Song.
GEntle Swaine, good speed befall thee;
And in LoueLove still prosper thou:
Fu…ure Times shall happy call thee,
Though, thou lie neglected, now.
Virtues Louers, shall commend thee;
And perpetuall Fame, attend thee.
Happy are these woody Mountaines,
In whose shad dowes thou doest hide:
And as happy, are those Fountaines,
By whose murmures thou doest bide.
For, Contents are here excelling;
More, then in a Princes dwelling.
These thy Flocks doe clothing bring thee,
And thy food, out of the Fields:
Pretty Songs, the Birds doe sing thee;
Sweet perfumes the Meddowe yeelds:
And, what more is worth the seeing?
Heauen and Earth thy prospect being?
None comes hither, who denies thee,
Thy Contentments (for despight)
Neither any that enuies thee,
That, wherein thou dost delight.
But, all happy things are meant thee?
And what euer may content thee.
Thy Affection Reason measures;
And distempers none it feeds:
Still, so harmelesse are thy pleasures,
That no others griefe it breeds.
And, if night, beget thee sorrow;
Seldome stayes it, till the morrow.
Why doe foolish men so vainely,
Seeke contentment in their store?
Since they may perceiue so plainly,
Thou art rich, in being poore?
And that they are vext about it;
Whilst thou merry art without it.
VVhy are idle braines deuising,
How high Titles may be gaind?
Since, by those poore toyes despising,
Thou hast higher things obtaind?
For the man who scornes to craue them,
Greater is, then they that hauehave them.
If all men could tast that sweetnesse,
Thou dost in thy meanesse know;
Kings would be to seeke, where Greatnesse,
And their honours to bestow.
For, it such content would breed them;
As they would not thinke they need them.
And, if those who so aspiring,
To the Court-preferments bee;
Knew how worthy the desiring;
Those things are, enioyed by thee.
Wealth and Titles, would hereafter:
Subiects be, for scorne and laughter.
He that Courtly stiles affected,
Should a May-Lords honour hauehave.
He that heaps of wealth collected,
Should be counted as a slaue.
And the man with few'st things cumbred,
VVith the Noblest should be numbred.
Thou, their folly hast descerned,
That neglect thy mind, and thee;
And to sight them, thou hast learned,
Of what Title er'e they be.
That; no more with thee, obtaineth;
Then with them, thy meannes gaineth.
All their Riches, Honours, Pleasures;
Poore vnworthy trifles seeme;
(If compared with thy Treasures)
And, doe merit no esteeme.
For, they true contents prouide thee;
And from them can none diuide thee.
Whether thralled, or exiled;
Whether poore or rich thou be:
Whether praised, or reuiled;
Not a rush, it is to thee.
This, nor that, thy rest doth win thee:
But, the mind, which is within thee.
Then, oh why, so madly dote we,
On those things, that vsus ore-lode?
Why, no more, their vainnesse note we;
But still make of them a God?
For, alas! they still deceiue vsus;
And, in greatest need they leaue vsus.
Therefore, hauehave the Fates prouided,
Well (thou happy Swaine) for thee:
That mayst, here, so farre diuided,
From the worlds distractions be.
Thee, distemper let them neuer;
But, in peace continue euer.
In these lonely Groues, enioy thou,
That contentment here begun:
And, thy houres, so pleasd, employ thou,
Till the latest glasse bee run.
From a Fortune so assured:
By no temptings be allured.
Much good doo't them with their glories,
Who in Courts of Princes dwell.
We hauehave read in Antique stories,
How some rose, and how they fell.
And tis worthy well the heeding;
Ther's like End, wher's like proceeding.
Be thou; still, in thy affection,
To thy Noble Mistresse, true:
Let her (neuer-matcht) perfection,
Be the same, vntounto thy view.
And, let neuer other Beautie,
Make thee faile, in LoueLove, or Dutie.
For, if thou shalt not estranged
From thy Course professed, …e.
But remaine for aye vnchanged;
Nothing shall hauehave power on thee.
Those that sleight thee now, shall louelove thee,
And, in spight of spight, approue thee.
So those Vertues now neglected,
To be more esteem'd; will come:
Yea, those Toyes so much affected,
Many shall be wooed from.
And, the golden Age (deplored)
Shall, by some, be thought restored.
THus sang the Nymph: so rarely-well inspired,
That all the hearers, her braue Strains admired.
And, as I heard, by some that there attended,
When this her Song was finisht, all was ended.
A Postscript.
IF any Carpe, for that, my younger… Times,
Brought foorth such idle fruit, as these slight Rymes,
It is no matter; so they doe not sweare,
That they, so ill imployed, neuer were.
Whilst their Desires (perhaps) they looselier spent;
I gaue my heats of Youth, this better vent.
And, oft by writing thus, the bloud hauehave tam'd;
Which some, with reading wanton Laye▪ enflam'd.
Nor care I, though their Censure some hauehave past,
Because my Songs exceed the Fidlers Last.
For, doe they thinke, that I will make my Measures,
The longer, or the shorter, for their pleasures?
Or may me, or Curtolize my free Inuention;
Because, Fooles weary are, of their attention.
No; let them know, who do their length contemn,
I make to please my selfe, and not for them.