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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Shepheardes Calender: April</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">APRILL: Ægloga QuartaTHENOT & HOBBINOLL<br> Tell me good Hobbinoll, what garres thee greete?<br> What? hath some Wolfe thy tender Lambes ytorne?<br> Or is thy Bagpype broke, that soundes so sweete?<br> Or art thou of thy loved lasse forlorne?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Or bene thine eyes attempred to the yeare,<br> Quenching the gasping furrowes thirst with rayne?<br> Like April shoure, so stremes the trickling teares<br> Adowne thy cheeke, to quenche thy thristye payne.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">HOBBINOLL<br> Nor thys, nor that, so muche doeth make me mourne,<br> But for the ladde, whome long I lovd so deare,<br> Nowe loves a lasse, that all his love doth scorne:<br> He plongd in payne, his tressed locks dooth teare.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Shepheards delights he dooth them all forsweare,<br> Hys pleasaunt Pipe, whych made us meriment,<br> He wylfully hath broke, and doth forbeare<br> His wonted songs, wherein he all outwent.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">THENOT<br> What is he for a Ladde, you so lament?<br> Ys love such pinching payne to them, that prove?<br> And hath he skill to make so excellent,<br> Yet hath so little skill to brydle love?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">HOBBINOLL<br> Colin thou kenst, the Southerne shepheardes boye:<br> Him Love hath wounded with a deadly darte.<br> Whilome on him was all my care and joye,<br> Forcing with gyfts to winne his wanton heart.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> But now from me hys madding mynd is starte,<br> And woes the Widdowes daughter of the glenne:<br> So nowe fayre Rosalind hath bredde hys smart,<br> So now his frend is chaunged for a frenne.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">THENOT<br> But if hys ditties bene so trimly dight,<br> I pray thee Hobbinoll, recorde some one:<br> The whiles our flockes doe graze about in sight,<br> And we close shrowded in thys shade alone.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">HOBBINOLL<br> Contented I: then will I singe his laye<br> Of fayre Elisa, Queene of shepheardes all:<br> Which once he made, as by a spring he laye,<br> And tuned it unto the Waters fall.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Ye dayntye Nymphs, that in this blessed Brooke<br> doe bathe your brest,<br> Forsake your watry bowres, and hether looke,<br> at my request:<br> And eke you Virgins, that on Parnasse dwell,<br> Whence floweth Helicon the learned well,<br> Helpe me to blaze<br> Her worthy praise,<br> Which in her sexe doth all excell.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Of fayre Eliza be your silver song,<br> that blessed wight:<br> The flowre of Virgins, may shee florish long,<br> In princely plight.<br> For shee is Syrinx daughter without spotte,<br> Which Pan the shepheards God of her begot:<br> So sprong her grace<br> Of heavenly race,<br> No mortall blemishe may her blotte.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> See, where she sits upon the grassie greene,<br> (O seemely sight)<br> Yclad in Scarlot like a mayden Queene,<br> And Ermines white.<br> Upon her head a Cremosin coronet,<br> With Damaske roses and Daffadillies set:<br> Bayleaves betweene,<br> And Primroses greene<br> Embellish the sweete Violet.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Tell me, have ye seene her angelick face,<br> Like Ph{oe}be fayre?<br> Her heavenly haveour, her princely grace<br> can you well compare?<br> The Redde rose medled with the White yfere,<br> In either cheeke depeincten lively chere.<br> Her modest eye,<br> Her Majestie,<br> Where have you seene the like, but there?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> I sawe Ph{oe}bus thrust out his golden hedde,<br> upon her to gaze:<br> But when he sawe, how broade her beames did spredde,<br> it did him amaze.<br> He blusht to see another Sunne belowe,<br> Ne durst againe his fyrye face out showe:<br> Let him, if he dare,<br> His brightnesse compare<br> With hers, to have the overthrowe.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Shewe thy selfe Cynthia with thy silver rayes,<br> and be not abasht:<br> When shee the beames of her beauty displayes,<br> O how art thou dasht?<br> But I will not match her with Latonaes seede,<br> Such follie great sorow to Niobe did breede.<br> Now she is a stone,<br> And makes dayly mone,<br> Warning all other to take heede.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Pan may be proud, that ever he begot<br> such a Bellibone,<br> And Syrinx rejoyse, that ever was her lot<br> to beare such an one.<br> Soone as my younglings cryen for the dam,<br> To her will I offer a milkwhite Lamb:<br> Shee is my goddesse plaine,<br> And I her shepherds swayne,<br> Albee forswonck and forswatt I am.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> I see Calliope speede her to the place,<br> where my Goddesse shines:<br> And after her the other Muses trace,<br> with their Violines.<br> Bene they not Bay braunches, which they doe beare,<br> All for Elisa in her hand to weare?<br> So sweetely they play,<br> And sing all the way,<br> That it a heaven is to heare.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Lo how finely the graces can it foote<br> to the Instrument:<br> They dauncen deffly, and singen soote,<br> in their meriment.<br> Wants not a fourth grace, to make the daunce even?<br> Let that rowme to my Lady be yeven:<br> She shalbe a grace,<br> To fyll the fourth place,<br> And reigne with the rest in heaven.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> And whither rennes this bevie of Ladies bright,<br> raunged in a rowe?<br> They bene all Ladyes of the lake behight,<br> that unto her goe.<br> Chloris, that is the chiefest Nymph of al,<br> Of Olive braunches beares a Coronall:<br> Olives bene for peace,<br> When wars doe surcease:<br> Such for a Princesse bene principall.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Ye shepheards daughters, that dwell on the greene,<br> hye you there apace:<br> Let none come there, but that Virgins bene,<br> to adorne her grace.<br> And when you come, whereas shee is in place,<br> See, that your rudeness doe not you disgrace:<br> Binde your fillets faste,<br> And gird in your waste,<br> For more finesse, with a tawdrie lace.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Bring hether the Pincke and purple Cullambine,<br> With Gelliflowres:<br> Bring Coronations, and Sops in wine,<br> worne of Paramoures.<br> Strowe me the ground with Daffadowndillies,<br> And Cowslips, and Kingcups, and loved Lillies:<br> The pretie Pawnce,<br> And the Chevisaunce,<br> Shall match with the fayre flowre Delice.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Now ryse up Elisa, decked as thou art,<br> in royall aray:<br> And now ye daintie Damsells may depart<br> echeone her way,<br> I feare, I have troubled your troupes to longe:<br> Let dame Eliza thanke you for her song.<br> And if you come hether,<br> When Damsines I gether,<br> I will part them all you among.<br>THENOT<br> And was thilk same song of Colins owne making?<br> Ah foolish boy, that is with love yblent:<br> Great pittie is, he be in such taking,<br> For naught caren, that bene so lewdly bent.<br>HOBBINOLL<br> Sicker I hold him, for a greater fon,<br> That loves the thing, he cannot purchase.<br> But let us homeward: for night draweth on,<br> And twincling starres the daylight hence chase.THENOTS EMBLEME</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br> O quam te memorem virgo?HOBBINOLLS EMBLEME</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374499" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br> O dea certe.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Edmund+Spenser">Edmund Spenser</a></strong></div>