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484 COMPLAINTS
Nor arue one doth care to call vs in,
Or once vouchsafeth vs to entertaine,
Vnlesse some one perhaps of gentle kin,
For pitties sake compassion our paine,
And yeeld vs some rehefe in this distresse
Yet to be so relieu'd is wretchednesse
So wander we all carefull comfortlesse,
Yet none doth care to comfort vs at all, 350
So seeke we helpe our sorrow to redresse,
Yet none vouchsafes to answere to our call
Therefore we mourne and pittilesse complaine,
Because none liuing pittieth our paine
With that she wept and wofulhe waymented,
That naught on earth her griefe might pacifie,
And all the rest her doiefull dm augmented,
With shrikes and groanes and grieuous agonie
So ended shee and then the next in rew,
Began her piteous plaint as doth ensew 360
Erato
Ye gentle Spirits breathing from aboue,
Where ye in Venus siluer bowre were bred,
Thoughts halfe deuine, full of the fire of loue,
With beawtie kindled and with pleasure fed,
Which ye now in secuntie possesse,
Forgetfull of your former heauinesse
Now change the tenor of your loyous layes,
With which ye vse your loues to deifie,
And blazon foorth an earthlie beauties praise,
Aboue the compasse of the arched skie 370
Now change your praises into piteous cries,
And Eulogies turne into Elegies
Such as ye wont whenas those bitter stounds
Of raging loue first gan you to torment,
And launch your hearts with lamentable wounds
Of secret sorrow and sad languishment,
Before your Loues did take you vnto grace ,
Those now renew as fitter for this place
For I that rule in measure moderate
The tempest of that stonnie passion, 380
And vse to paint in rimes the troublous state
Of Louers life in hkest fashion,
Am put from practise of my kindhe skill,
Banisht by those that Loue with leawdnes fill
Loue wont to be schoolmaster of my skill
And the deuicefull matter of my song,
Sweete Loue deuoyd of villanie or ill,
But pure and spotles, as at first he sprong
Out of th'Almighties bosome, where he nests,
From thence infused into mortall brests 390
Such high conceipt of that celestiall fire,
The base borne brood of blindnes cannot gesse,
Ne euer dare their dunghill thoughts aspire
Vnto so lof tie pitch of perfectnesse,
But rime at not, and doo rage in loue ,
Yet little wote what doth thereto behoue
Faire Cytheree the Mother of delight,
And Queeneof beautie, now thou maist go pack,
For lo thy Kingdome is defaced quight,
Thy scepter rent, and power put to wrack, 400
And thy gay Sonne, that winged God of Loue,
May now goe prune his plumes like ruffed Doue
And ye three Twins to light by Venus brought,
The sweete companions of the Muses late,
From whom what euer thing is goodly thought
Doth borrow grace, the fancie to aggrate ,
Go beg with vs, and be companions still
As heretofore of good, so now of ill
For neither you nor we shall anie more
Finde entertainment, or in Court or Schoole
For that which was accounted heretofore 411
The learneds meed, is now lent to the foole,
He sings of loue, and maketh louing layes,
And they him heare, and they him highly
prayse
With that she powred foorth a brackish flood
Of bitter teares, and made exceeding mone ,
And all her Sisters seeing her sad mood,
With lowd laments her answered all at one
So ended she and then the next m rew
Began her grieuous plaint, as doth ensew 420
Calliope
To whom shall I my euill case complame,
Or tell the anguish of my inward smart,
Sith none is left to remedie my paine,
Or deignes to pitie a perplexed hart,
But rather seekes my sorrow to augment
With fowle reproach, and cruell banishment
For they to whom I vsed to apphe
The faithfull seruice of my learned skill,
The goodly off spring of loues progeme,
That wont the world with famous acts to fill,
Whose huing praises in heroick style, 431
It is my chiefe profession to compyle
They all corrupted through the rust of time,
That doth all fairest things on earth deface,
Or through vnnoble sloth, or sinfull crime,
That doth degenerate the noble race ,
Haue both desire of worthie deeds forlorne,
And name of learning vtteriy doo scorne
Ne doo they care to haue the auncestrie
Of th'old Heroes memonzde anew, 440
Ne doo they care that late pos.entie
Should know their names, or speak their praises
dew
But die forgot from whence at first they sprong,
As they themselues shalbe forgot ere long.