¶ Amintas for his Phillis. +
A Vrora now began to rise againe, From watry couch, and from old Tithons side: In hope to kiss vpon Acteian plaine, Young Cephalus, and through the golden glide (5) On Easterne coast he cast so great a light, That Phaebus thought it time to make retire From Thetis bower, wherein he spent the night, To light the world againe with heauenly fire.
No sooner gan his winged Steedes to chase (10) The Stigian night, mantled with duskie vale: But poore Amintas hasteth him a pace, In deserts thus, to weepe a wofull tale. You silent shades, and all that dwell therein, As birds, or beasts, or wormes that creepe on ground: (15) Dispose your selues to teares, while I begin To rue the greefe of mine eternall wound.
And dolefull ghosts, whose nature flies the light, Come seate your selues with me on eu’ry side: And while I die for want of my delight, (20) Lament the woes through fancie me betide. Phillis is dead, the marke of my desire, My cause of loue, and shipwrack of my ioyes, Phillis is gone that set my hart on fire, That clad my thoughts with ruinous annoyes.
(25) Phillis is fled, and bides I wote not where, Phillis (alas) the praise of woman-kinde: Phillis the Sunne of this our Hemisphere, Whose beames made me, and many others blinde. But blinded me (poore Swaine) aboue the rest, (30) That like olde Oedipus I liue in thrall: Still feele the woorst, and neuer hope the best, My mirth in moane, and honey drown’d in gall.