ELEGIA 16
Ad amicam, ut ad rura sua veniatSulmo, Pelignies third part me containes,
A small, but wholesome soyle with watrie veynes.
Although the sunne to rive the earth incline,
And the Icarian froward Dog-starre shine,
Pelignian fields with liqued rivers flowe,
And on the soft ground fertile greene grasse growe.
With corne the earth abounds, with vines much more,
And some few pastures PallasOlives bore.
And by the rising herbes, where cleare springs slide,
A grassie turffe the moistened earth doth hide.
But absent is my fire, lyes ile tell none,
My heate is heere, what moves my heate is gone.
Pollux and Castor, might I stand betwixt,
In heaven without thee would I not be fi,tt.
Upon the cold earth pensive let them lay,
That meane to travaile some long irkesome way.
Or els will maidens, yong-mens mates, to go
If they determine to persever so.
Then on the rough Alpes should I tread aloft,
My hard way with my mistrisse would seeme soft.
With her I durst the LybianSyrtes breake through,
And raging Seas in boistrous South-winds plough.
No barking Dogs that Syllaes intrailes beare,
Nor thy gulfes crooked Malea, would I feare.
No flowing waves with drowned ships forth poured,
Bycloyed Charibdis, and againe devoured.
But if sterne Neptunes windie powre prevaile,
And waters force, force helping Gods to faile,
With thy white armes upon my shoulders seaze,
So sweete a burthen I will beare with eaze.
The youth oft swimming to his Hero kinde,
Had then swum over, but the way was blinde.
But without thee, although vine-planted ground
Conteines me, though the streames in fields surround,
Though Hindes in brookes the running waters bring,
And coole gales shake the tall trees leavy spring,
Healthfi'll PelignyI esteeme nought worth,
Nor do I like the country of my birth.
Sythia, Cilicia, Brittaine are as good,
And rockes dyed crimson with Prometheus bloud.
Elmes love the Vines, the Vines with Elmes abide,
Why doth my mistresse from me oft devide?
Thou swearest, devision should not twixt us rise,
By me, and by my starres, thyradiant eyes.
Maides words more vaine and light then falling leaves,
Which as it seemes, hence winde and sea bereaves.
If any godly care of me thou hast,
Adde deeds unto thy promises at last.
And with swift Naggs drawing thy little Coach,
(Their reines let loose) right soone my house approach.
But when she comes, you swelling mounts sinck downe,
And falling vallies be the smooth-wayes crowne.