1Dear daughters, come, make haste away
2From that sad place
; make no delay. 3He’s gone
that was the city’s grace; 4Fierce Hydras
now usurp his place. 5The fanes
are overgrown with moss, 6With shedding tears for England’s loss,
7Hard hearts
insensible of woe, 8Whom marble walls, in grief, outgo.
9Then come, sweet virgins, come away;
10What is it that invites your stay?
11What can you learn there else but pride,
12And what your blushes will not hide?
13There, virgins lose their honored name,
14Which doth forever blur their fame.
15There, husbands look with jealous eyes,
16And wives deceive them, and their spies.
17To Inns of Court
and armies go 18Wise children, their own dads to know.
19There, shepherds that no flocks do keep,
20Like butcher’s mastiffs, worry sheep.
21Then come, sweet children, come away;
22What can allure you yet to stay?
23Hyde Park
, a place of chief delight, 24Her bushes mourn like Jews in white
. 25The stately deer do weeping stray,
26Anticipating their last day.
27Spring Garden
, that such pleasures bred, 28Looks dull and sad since Chloris
fled. 29The crystal Thames
her loss deplores
30And to the sea her grief outroars
. 31The swans upon her silver breast
32Though dying, yet can find no rest,
33But full of grief cry, “welladay
,” 34And, singing, sigh their breath away
. 35Ay me, then come, make haste away;
36From that sad place make no delay.
37Here’s flow’ry vales
and crystal springs; 38Here’s shady groves, here ever sings
39The bullfinch, linnet
, striving which 40The auditors shall most bewitch.
41The early lark, long ere
the morn 42With roses can her head adorn,
43Sings cheerfully a roundelay
, 44Telling this lower world ’tis day.
45Here thrushes, wrens, and redbreasts sing
46To welcome in the gladsome spring.
47Then come, sweet maidens, come away;
48To this sweet place make no delay.
49Here careful shepherds view their sheep;
50They him, and he their souls doth keep.
51Blessings flow on them from above
52That are reciprocal in love.
53He in his bosom bears the lambs
54And gently leads the heavy dams
; 55He whistles those that go astray
56By which means, none runs quite away.
57Here husbands, free from jealous eye,
58Have wives as full of modesty;
59They, in their children, both rejoice,
60Commending still their happy choice:
61Most kind and free from all debate,
62That no true love can ever hate.
63Then come, my children, come away;
64To this sweet place make no delay.
65Here virgins sit in flow’ry vales,
66Refreshed by sweet Favonius’s
gales
, 67Making them
anadems and poses
, 68Crowning their heads with new-blown
roses. 69In woods and dales
fair maidens may, 70Unfrighted, freely gather may
. 71Then lovely lasses, come away!
72To cheer my heart make no delay.
73But O, those times now changéd be
; 74Sad metamorphosis we see.
75For since Amintas
went away, 76Shepherds and sheep go all astray.
77Those that deserved whole groves of bays
78In sighs
consume their youthful days; 79And that
fair fleecy flocks did keep, 80Despised in corners sit and weep.
81Since Chloris went, both wife and maid
82In love and beauty hath decayed.
83Where maypoles
showed their feathered head, 84There, colored ensigns
now are spread; 85Instead of music’s pleasant sound
86And lively lasses dancing round,
87Tumultuous drums
make deaf our ears 88And trumpets fill our hearts with fears.
89In shades where nymphs did use to walk
90There sons of Mars
in armor stalk. 91Enameled vales and crystal streams
92Prove
now, alas, poor Broadfield’s
dreams. 93Lea’s
drooping swans now sadly sing 94And Beane comes weeping from her spring.
95Mimram and Stort in mourning weeds
, 96Showing their hearts for grief e’en bleeds.
97All run to Lea for some relief,
98And in her bosom pour their grief.
99Thus she and they all weeping go
100To tell the Thames their grievous woe.
101Ver
looks and sees this shire
look sad; 102She whirls about as
she were mad. 103Round Verulam his
ruinéd stones 104She runs, and tells to Colne
her moans; 105For since her saint
his blood was shed, 106She never grieved so, as she said.
107Colne sympathized with her in woe,
108And to the Thames
resolved to go; 109Clear Purwell
too came bubbling out, 110But long she did not stand in doubt;
111Seeing our halcyon
days were done, 112She loathed (she said) to see the sun
113As he pursued the cheerful day,
114But turned her course another way.
115And, sighing, shed forth tears as clear
116As pearls, and ran to Bedfordshire—
117To Ouse
, who was so full of grief 118That she herself did want relief—
119And said, would any place receive
120Her tears, she would her channel leave,
121As when King Richard’s
reign had date; 122But this she was denied by fate.
123Gray’s Spring
too sadly makes her moan, 124And with her tears turns moss to stone;
125And, seeing delight with Chloris fled,
126She sighed and murmuring hid her head
127Within her womb that gave her breath,
128Venting her grief below the earth.
129The Naiades
here sit in ranks
, 130Forlorn upon our withered banks,
131And garlands make of willow
boughs 132To hide their tears and shade their brows.
133Since Chloris went, our flowers fade;
134No pleasure is in hill or shade.
135Poor Philomel
doth sit alone, 136To senseless trees now makes her moan.
137Our woods their choristers
now lack: 138The woozles
whistle, clad in black, 139And the forsaken turtledove
140Bewails her own and Chloris’s love.
141The Hamadryades
invokes 142The goddesses enshrined in oaks,
143Who fold their yielding arms across
144And weep with them Amintas’s loss.
145Some trees drop gum from their sad eyes
146T’immortalize ambitious flies;
147Though they
can give us no relief, 148They’ll sympathize with us in grief.
149The Oreads
sport and play no more, 150But great Amintas’s loss deplore
. 151Instead of roses, cypress
boughs 152Pearled o’er with tears doth shade their brows.
153Disheveled, torn, neglected hair
154Hang o’er their throbbing bosom bare.
155Nay, the Napeae
from their hills, 156Dissolved with tears, weep crystal rills
. 157Those flowers which the valleys crown,
158O’ercharged with grief, their heads hang down.
159Since lovely Chloris frighted fled,
160The crown imperial
hangs his head; 161His princely breast o’erwhelmed with fears,
162Weeping at once six crystal tears.
163To lovely shades pale vi’lets creep,
164And there, unpitied, sit and weep.
165The royal rose that ne’er would yield,
166But strove for mast’ry in the field
, 167And Chloris’s cheek, neglected, fades
168In silent, solitary shades.
169The lily and the gillyflower
170Do wish it were within their power
171To sleep forever in their cause
; 172But ’tis denied by Nature’s laws.
173Th’auricula
that cures the giddy brain, 174Dizzy with grief, hangs down her head again.
175Then shall not we with grief o’erflow?
176Shall vegetables us outgo?
177Thus neither woods, nor fields, nor hills,
178Enameled vales, nor crystal rills,
179Nor birds, nor trees, nor flowers of scent
180But do this kingdom’s loss resent.
181Then let us still lament and grieve
182Till Heaven, in mercy, doth relieve.
183’Tis neither sight nor odor’s scent
184Can my afflicted heart content,
185Until I see them both restored,
186Whose absence hath been so deplored.
187Just Heaven, hear our prayers and tears
188And place them in their shining spheres
. 189Then come, sweet daughters, come away;
190To comfort me make no delay.