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II.

“What hart so stonie hard but that would weepe.
And poure forth fountaines of incessant teares?
What Timon but would let compassion creepe
Into his breast, and pierce his frosen eares?
In stead of teares, whose brackish bitter well 250
I wasted have, my heart bloud dropping weares,
To think to ground how that faire blossome fell.

“Yet fell she not as one enforst to dye,
Ne dyde with dread and grudging discontent,
But as one toyld with travell downe doth lye, 255
So lay she downe, as if to sleepe she went,
And closde her eyes with carelesse quietriesse;
The whiles soft death away her spirit hent*,
And soule assoyld** from sinfull fleshlinesse.
[* Hent, took]
[** Assoyld, absolved.]

“Yet ere that life her lodging did forsake, 260
She, all resolv’d, and readie to remove,
Calling to me (ay me!) this wise bespake;
‘Alcyon! ah, my first and latest love!
Ah! why does my Alcyon weepe and mourne,
And grieve my ghost, that ill mote him behove, 265
As if to me had chaunst some evill tourne!

“‘I, since the messenger is come for mee
That summons soules unto the bridale feast
Of his great Lord, must needs depart from thee,
And straight obay his soveraine beheast; 270
Why should Alcyon then so sore lament
That I from miserie shall be releast,
And freed from wretched long imprisonment!

“‘Our daies are full of dolour and disease.
Our life afflicted with incessant paine, 275
That nought on earth may lessen or appease;
Why then should I desire here to remaine!
Or why should he that loves me sorrie bee
For my deliverance, or at all complaine
My good to heare, and toward* ioyes to see! 280
[* Toward, preparing, near at hand.]

“‘I goe, and long desired have to goe;
I goe with gladnesse to my wished rest,
Whereas* no worlds sad care nor wasting woe
May come, their happie quiet to molest;
But saints and angels in celestiall thrones 285
Eternally Him praise that hath them blest;
There shall I be amongst those blessed ones.
[* Whereas, where.]

“‘Yet, ere I goe, a pledge I leave with thee
Of the late love the which betwixt us past;
My young Ambrosia; in lieu of mee, 290
Love her; so shall our love for ever last.
Thus, deare! adieu, whom I expect ere long.’–
So having said, away she softly past;
Weepe, Shepheard! weepe, to make mine undersong.

III.

“So oft as I record those piercing words, 295
Which yet are deepe engraven in my brest,
And those last deadly accents, which like swords
Did wound my heart and rend my bleeding chest,
With those sweet sugred speeches doe compare
The which my soul first conquerd and possest, 300
The first beginners of my endlesse care,