Errours of youth. How did my sorowes mount above
My hopes, and threate
Me to defeate,
While I did wander in a grove,
Through crooked pathes of doubts, and feares,
Where little light of joy appeares.
On neither hand I could descry,
A beacon bright,
To sett mee right,
No pillar, or dumbe Mercury,
Appear’d to answere my desires:
I nothing saw but foolish fires.
Sometimes I thought to rest, and stay,
Conceiveing it,
Better to sitt,
Then more and more to goe astray:
But then I found, that I could have,
No resting place, but in the grave.
Fortune. While thus perplex’d I did abide,
A beauto’us Dame,
Unto mee came,
And profferd for to bee my guide,
Then I, who long since wont t’admire,
The fairest objects of desire,
Her proffer gladly did embrace,
Not doting on,
Proportion,
Or any beauty in her face,
But hopeing that her prudencye,
Should sett mee right, that went awrye.
Shee with Her cinque foyl’d Lilly prest,
my rougher hand,
And did command,
I should chase terrours from my brest,
For shee would mee conduct in peace,
Unto a place of joy, and ease.
Shee led, I followed close behind,
But ere wee had
Three furlongs made.
I did perceive my guide was blind,
Deepe holes, steepe Hills, and pathwayes glaz’d
With slipp’ry ice, made mee amaz’d.
Then I conceiv’d it better farre,
To wander still,
At mine owne will,
Then follow such an errant starre,
Wherefore I presently withdrew,
And bade my leader blind adieu.
Pleasure. I had no sooner taken leave,
When t’was my fate,
To meete a Mate,
Whose lookes seem’d destin’d to deceive,
Her face, her dresse, might even have mov’d
A second Joseph to have lov’d.
Her hayres, in a disorderd order,
Disheveld hung,
With tresses long.
Her temples circled in a border,
Of rubyes, pearles, and emraulds greene,
Declar’d her to be beautyes Queene.
Her mantel breath’d Arabian fumes,
And seemd t’envuy,
The precious dye
Of thee, immortall Pheenix’s plumes:
Shee woo’d mee to submit to her,
And then I should no longer erre.
Then shee mee to a mountaine led,
Where flowers grew,
Of every hue,
And Trees of pleasure their armes spred,
Where did melodious Birds rejoyce
Admir’d for colour, and for voyce.
This Hill appear’d so exquisite,
That now I thought,
I had found out,
The very palace of delight.
Now no more errours did I feare,
Bicause I thought my rest was neare.
With mickle joy I did ascend,
This pleasant Mount,
And did account,
I was come to my journeys end;
But horride spectacles did then
Make mee myself wish backe age’n.
For the swolne Toade, and th’ hisseing Snake,
With speckled hides,
Upon all sides
Did crawle, and their vagaryes make,
Who did their livide poyson spue,
Upon all flowers which there grew.
These objects caus’d mee to make halte,
While this coy Dame,
Cry’d fye for shame,
And did my lacke of courage fault:
Shee drew mee on, but then a cry
Did warne mee to returne, or dye.
I heard one cry: returne, returne:
If you proceede,
You are but dead:
Then I beheld the mountaine burne:
For
(Ralph Knevet)
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