Classic Poem

Egloga tertia.

[The Third Eclogue.]

Menalcas Coridon

A pleasant weather, Coridon,
and fit to keep the field
This moon hath brought: hear'st thou the birds
what joyful tunes they yield?
Lo, how the lusty lambs do course,
whom springtime heat doth prick.
Behold again, the aged ewes
with bouncing leaps do kick.
Amongst them all, what ails thy ram
to halt so much behind?
Some sore mischance hath him befall'n,
or else some grief of mind,
For wont he was of stomach stout
and courage high to be,
And looked proud amongst the flock,
and none so stout as he. Coridon

A great mishap and grief of mind
is him befall'n of late,
Which causeth him against his will
to lose his old estate.
A lusty flock hath Tityrus
that him Dametas gave,
(Dametas he, that martyr died,
whose soul the heavens have)
And in this flock full many ewes
of pleasant form do go,
With them a mighty ram doth run,
that works all wooers woe.
My ram, when he the pleasant dames
had viewed round about,
Chose ground of battle with his foe
and thought to fight it out.
But all too weak, alas, he was,
although his heart was good,
For when his enemy him espied
he ran with cruel mood
And with his crooked weapon smote
him sore upon the side
A blow of force, that stayed not there
but to the legs did glide
And almost lamed the wooer quite
(such haps in love there be).
This is the cause of all his grief
and wailing that you see. Menalcas

Well, Coridon, let him go halt,
and let us both go lie
In yonder bush of juniper;
the beasts shall feed hereby.
A pleasant place here is to talk:
good Coridon, begin,
And let us know the town's estate,
that thou remainest in. Coridon

The town's estate? Menalcas, O,
thou mak'st my heart to groan,
For vice hath every place possessed
and virtue thence is flown.
Pride bears herself as goddess chief
and boasts above the sky,
And lowliness an abject lies,
with gentleness her by.
Wit is not joined with simpleness
as she was wont to be,
But seeks the aid of arrogance
and crafty policy.
Nobility begins to fade,
and carters up do spring,
Than which no greater plague can hap
nor more pernicious thing.
Menalcas, I have known myself,
within this thirty year,
Of lords and ancient gentlemen
a hundred dwelling there,
Of whom we shepherds had relief:
such gentleness of mind
Was placed in their noble hearts
as none is now to find.
But haughtiness and proud disdain
hath now the chief estate,
For Sir John Straw, and Sir John Cur,
will not degenerate.
And yet, they dare account themselves
to be of noble blood.
But fish bred up in dirty pools
will ever stink of mud.
I promise thee, Menalcas, here,
I would not them envy
If any spot of gentleness
in them I might espy.
For if their natures gentle be,
though birth be never so base,
Of gentlemen (for meet it is)
they ought have name and place.
But when by birth they base are bred
and churlish heart retain,
Though place of gentlemen they have
yet churls they do remain.
A proverb old hath oft been heard,
and now full true is tried:
An ape will ever be an ape
though purple garments hide.
For seldom will the masty course
the hare or else the deer,
But still, according to his kind,
will hold the hog by th'ear.
Unfit are dunghill knights to serve
the town, with spear in field,
Nor strange it seems (a sudden chop)
to leap from whip to shield.
The chiefest man in all our town
that bears the greatest sway
Is Coridon (no kin to me),
a neatherd th'other day.
This Coridon, come from the cart,
in honour chief doth sit
And governs us. Because he hath
a crabbed, clownish wit,
Now see the churlish cruelty
that in his heart remains.
The seely sheep that shepherds good.
have fostered up with pains,
And brought away from stinking dales
on pleasant hills to feed, —
O cruel clownish Coridon!
O cursed carlish seed! —
The simple sheep constrained he
their pasture sweet to leave,
And to their old corrupted grass
enforceth them to cleave.
Such sheep as would not them obey,
but in their pasture bide,
With cruel flames they did consume
and vex on every side.
And with the sheep, the shepherds good
(O hateful hounds of hell)
They did torment, and drive them out
in places far to dwell.
There died Daphnes for his sheep,
the chiefest of them all,
And fair Alexis flamed in fire
who never perish shall.
O shepherds, wail for Daphnes' death,
Alexis' hap lament,
And curse the force of cruel hearts
that them to death have sent.
I, since I saw such sinful sights,
did never like the town,
But thought it best to take my sheep
and dwell upon the down.
Whereas I live a pleasant life
and free from cruel hands,
I would not leave the pleasant field
for all the townish lands.
For sith that pride is placed thus,
and vice set up so high,
And cruelty doth rage so sore,
and men live all awry,
Think'st thou that God will long forbear
his scourge and plague to send
To such as Him do still despise
and never seek to mend?
Let them be sure He will revenge
when they think least upon.
But look, a stormy shower doth rise,
which will fall here anon.
Menalcas, best we now depart;
my cottage us shall keep,
For there is room for thee and me,
and eke for all our sheep.
Some chestnuts have I there in store
with cheese and pleasant whey;
God sends me victuals for my need,
and I sing care away.
Finis Eglogae tertiae.