Classic Poem

Thus having passed all peril, I was come
Within the compass of that island's space;
The which did seem unto my simple doom
The only pleasant and delightful place,
That ever trodden was of footing's trace.
For all that nature by her mother wit
Could frame in earth, and form of substance base,
Was there, and all that nature did omit,
Art, playing second nature's part, supplied it.
No tree, that is of count, in greenwood grows,
From lowest juniper to cedar tall,
No flower in field, that dainty odour throws,
And decks his branch with blossoms over all,
But there was planted, or grew natural:
Nor sense of man so coy and curious nice,
But there mote find to please itself withal;
Nor heart could wish for any quaint device,
But there it present was, and did frail sense entice.
In such luxurious plenty of all pleasure,
It seemed a second paradise to guess,
So lavishly enriched with nature's treasure,
That if the happy souls, which do possess
Th'Elysian fields, and live in lasting bliss,
Should happen this with living eye to see,
They soon would loathe their lesser happiness,
And wish to life returned again to be,
That in this joyous place they mote have joyance free.
Fresh shadows, fit to shroud from sunny ray;
Fair lawns, to take the sun in season due;
Sweet springs, in which a thousand nymphs did play;
Soft rumbling brooks, that gentle slumber drew;
High reared mounts, the lands about to view;
Low looking dales, disloigned from common gaze;
Delightful bowers, to solace lovers true;
False labyrinths, fond runners' eye to daze;
All which by nature made did nature self amaze.
And all without were walks and alleys dight
With divers trees, enranged in even ranks;
And here and there were pleasant arbours pight,
And shady seats, and sundry flowering banks,
To sit and rest the walkes' weary shanks,
And therein thousand pairs of lovers walked,
Praising their god, and yielding him great thanks,
Ne ever aught but of their true loves talked,
Ne ever for rebuke or blame of any balked.
All these together by themselves did sport
Their spotless pleasures, and sweet loves' content.
But far away from these, another sort
Of lovers linked in true heart's consent;
Which loved not as these, for like intent,
But on chaste virtue grounded their desire,
Far from all fraud, or feigned blandishment;
Which in their spirits kindling zealous fire,
Brave thoughts and noble deeds did evermore aspire.
Such were great Hercules, and Hylas dear;
True Jonathan, and David trusty tried;
Stout Theseus, and Pirithous his fere;
Pylades and Orestes by his side;
Mild Titus and Gesippus without pride;
Damon and Pythias whom death could not sever:
All these, and all that ever had been tied
In bands of friendship, there did live for ever,
Whose lives although decayed, yet loves decayed never.