Classic Poem

[The Sixth Eclogue.]

Felix Faustus

O Faustus, whom above the rest
of shepherds here that keep
Upon these holts the number great
of weighty fleeced sheep
I ever have esteemed, and counted eke
the chiefest friend of all,
What great mishap, what scourge of mind
or grief hath thee befall
That hath thee brought in such a plight
far from thy wonted guise?
What means this countenance all besprent
with tears? — these wretched eyes,
This mourning look, this vesture sad,
this wreath of willow tree?
Unhappy man, why dost thou weep?
What chance hath altered thee?
Tell, tell me soon, I am thy friend;
disclose to me thy grief.
Be not afraid, for friends do serve
to give their friends relief.
The woeful cause of all my hurt,
good Felix, long ago
Thou knew'st full well; I need not now
by words to double woe.
Since that, alas, all hope is past,
since grief and I am one,
And since the lady of my life
(my fault) I have forgone,
What wouldst thou have me do, O friend?
to joy? in such distress?
Nay, pleasures quite I banish here
and yield to heaviness.
Let griefs torment me evermore,
let never cares away;
Let never Fortune turn her wheel
to give me blissful day.
Love hath me scourged: I am content —
lament not thou my state.
Let spite on me take vengeance now,
let me be torn with hate.
Let her enjoy her happy life,
a flower of golden hue
That closeth when the sun doth set
and spreads with Phoebus new.
Sith from my garland now is fall'n
this famous flower sweet,
Let willows wind about my head
(a wreath for wretches meet).
Fie, Faustus, let not fancy fond
in thee bear such a sway.
Expel affections from thy mind
and drive them quite away.
Embrace thine ancient liberty,
let bondage vile be fled:
Let reason rule thy crazed brain,
place wit in folly's stead.
Since she is gone, what remedy?
Why should'st thou so lament?
Wilt thou destroy thyself with tears
and she to pleasures bent?
Give ear to me, and I will show
the remedies for love
That I have learned long ago,
and in my youth did prove;
Such remedies as soon shall quench
the flames of Cupid's fire,
Such remedies as shall delay
the rage of fond desire.
For, Faustus, if thou follow still
the blinded God to please
And wilt not seek by reason's rule
to purchase thine own ease,
Long canst thou not thy friends enjoy,
but bid them all farewell,
And leave thy life, and give thy soul
to deepest floods of hell.
Leave off, therefore, betimes, and let
affection bear no sway,
And now at first the fire quench
before it further stray.
Each thing is easily made to obey
while it is young and green:
The tender twig, that now doth bend,
at length refuseth clean;
The fervent fire, that flaming first
may little water drench,
Whenas it hath obtained time
whole rivers cannot quench.
Forsake the town, my Faustus dear,
and dwell upon this plain,
And time shall heal thy festering wound
and absence banish pain.
Above all things fly idleness,
for this doth double strength
To lovers' flames, and makes them rage
till all be lost at length.
Here in these fields are pleasant things
to occupy thy brain:
Behold, how spring revives again,
that winter late had slain;
Behold, the pleasant hills adorned
with divers colours fair;
Give ear to Scylla's lusty songs
rejoicing in the air.
What pleasure canst thou more desire,
than here is for to see?
Thy lusty ewes, with many a lamb,
lo, where they wait on thee.
Think not upon that cursed face
that makes thee thus her slave,
But well regard the pleasant life
that here thou seest me have.
When I long time ago did feel
the flames of Cupid's fire,
These means, lo, then I practised
to cure my fond desire.
I first weighed with myself,
how fond a thing it seemed
To let my heart lie there in chains
where I was nought esteemed,
And how with flames I burnt for her,
that passed nought for me,
And how these eyes increased my harms
that first her face did see.
With pensive heart full fraight with thoughts
I fled from thence away,
And though that Love bade turn my steps
yet would I never stay,
But from that foul infective air
where first I took my sore,
I hied in haste, and shunned the place
to see for evermore.
Each letter that I had received
from her, I cast away,
And tokens all, I threw them down,
to my no small dismay.
Then busied I myself in things
that might me most delight,
And sought the chiefest means I could
to help my wearied sprite.
Sometime I would behold the fields
and hills that thou dost see,
Sometime I would betray the birds
that light on limed tree:
Especially in shepstare time,
when thick in flocks they fly,
One would I take, and to her leg
a limed line would tie,
And where the flock flew thickest, there
I would her cast away.
She straight unto the rest would hie
amongst her mates to play,
And pressing in the midst of them
with line and lime and all,
With cleaving wings, entangled fast
they down together fall.
Sometime I would the little fish
with baited hook beguile,
Sometime the crafty fox I would
deceive for all his wile,
Sometime the wolf I would pursue,
sometime the foaming boar,
And when with labour all the day
my wearied limbs were sore,
Then rest and sleep I straightway sought:
no dreams did me affray.
Tormented nought with care, I past
the ling'ring night away.
And thus I clean forgot, in time,
the doting days I saw,
And freed myself, to my great joy,
from yoke of lovers' law.
More of this same I will thee tell
the next time here we meet,
And stronger medicines will I give
to purge that venom sweet.
Behold the day is slipped away,
and stars do fast appear.
Lo, where Calisto, virgin once,
doth shine in skies so clear.
Lo, where old Cepheus walks about,
with twining serpent by.
We will no longer here abide,
but hence will homeward hie.