POEMS OF EDMUND SPENSER. THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER: CONTEINING TWELVE AEGLOGUES, PROPORTIONABLE TO THE TWELVE MONETHES. MAISTER PHILIP SIDNEY. TO HIS BOOKE. GOE, little booke! thy selfe present, As childe whose parent is unkent, To him that is the president Of noblenesse and chevalree: And if that Envie barke at thee, As sure it will, for succour flee Under the shadow of his wing. And, asked who thee forth did bring, A shepheards swaine, say, did thee sing, All as his straying flocke he fedde: And, when his honour has thee redde, Crave pardon for thy hardy-hedde. But, if that any aske thy name, Say, thou wert base-begot with blame; Forthy thereof thou takest shame. And, when thou art past ieopardee, Come tell me what was said of mee, And I will send more after thee. Immerito. TO THE MOST EXCELLENT AND LEARNED, BOTH ORATOR AND POET, MAISTER GABRIEL HARVEY, His verie speciall and singular good friend E. K. commendeth the good lyking of this his good labour, and the patronage of the new poet. UNCOUTH, unkist, said the old famous poet Chaucer: whom for his excellencie and wonderfull skill in making, his scholler Lidgate, a worthie VOL III. scholler of so excellent a master, calleth the loadstarre of our language: and whom our Colin Clout in his Aeglogue calleth Tityrus the god of shepheards, comparing him to the worthinesse of the Roman Tityrus, Virgil. Which proverb, mine owne good friend M. Harvey, as in that good old poet it served well Pandares purpose for the bolstering of his bawdie brocage, so very well taketh place in this our new poet, who for that hee is uncouth (as sayde Chaucer) is unkist, and unknowne to most men, is regarded but of a fewe. But I doubt not, so soone as his name shall come into the knowledge of men, and his woorthinesse bee sounded in the trumpe of fame, but that hee shall bee not onely kist, but also beloved of all, imbraced of the most, and wondred at of the best. No lesse, I thinke, deserveth his wittinesse in devising, his pithinesse in uttering, his complaints of love so lovely, his discourses of pleasure so pleasantly, his pastoral rudeness, his morall wisenesse, his due observing of decorum everie where, in personages, in seasons, in matter, in speech; and generallie, in all seemely simplicitie of handling his matters, and framing his wordes: the which of many things which in him be straunge, I know will seeme the strangest, and wordes themselves being so auncient, the knitting of them so short and intricate, and the whole period and compasse of speech so delightsom for the roundnesse, and so grave for the strangenesse. And first of the wordes to speake, I graunt they bee something hard, and of most men unused, yet both English, and also used of most excellent authours, and most famous poets. In whom, when as this our poet hath bin much travailed and throughly read, how could it be, (as that worthie C oratonr sayde) but that walking in the Sunne, although for other cause he walked, yet needes he mought be sunburnt; and, having the sound of those auncient poets still ringing in his eares, he mought needes, in singing, hit out some of their tunes. But whether he useth them by such casualtie and custome, or of set purpose and choise, as thinking them fittest for such rustical rudenesse of shepheards, either for that their rough sound would make his rimes more ragged and rusticall; or else because such old and obsolete wordes are most used of country folke, sure I thinke, and thinke I think not amisse, that they bring great grace, and, as one would say, authoritie to the verse. For albe, amongst many other faults, it specially be objected of Valla against Livie, and of other against Salust, that with over much studie they affect antiquitie, as covering thereby credence and honour of elder yeares; yet I am of opinion, and eke the best learned are of the like, that those ancient solemne words, are a great ornament, both in the one, and in the other: the one labouring to set forth in his worke an eternall image of antiquitie, and the other carefully discoursing matters of gravity and importance. For, if my memorie faile not, Tully in that booke, wherein he endevoureth to set forth the patterne of a perfect orator, saith that ofttimes an ancient worde maketh the stile seeme grave, and as it were reverend, no otherwise then we honour and reverence gray haires for a certaine religious regard which we have of old age. Yet neither every where must old wordes be stuffed in, nor the common dialect and maner of speaking so corrupted thereby, that, as in olde buildings, it seeme disorderly and ruynous. But all as in most exquisite pictures they use to blaze and portraict not only the daintie lineaments of beautie, but also round about it to shadowe the rude thickets and craggy clifts, that, by the baseness of such parts, more excellencie may accrew to the principall for oftentimes we find our selves, I know not how, singularly delighted with the shew of such naturall rudenesse, and take great pleasure in that disorderly order. Even so doo those rough and harsh tearmes enlumine, and make more clearly to appeare, the brightnesse of brave and glorious wordes. So oftentimes a discorde in musike maketh a comely concordance: so great delight tooke the worthie poet Alceus to behold a blemish in the ioynt of a well shaped bodie. But, if any will rashly blame such his purpose in choise of olde and unwonted wordes, him may I more iustly blame and condemne, or of witlesse headinesse in iudging, or of heedles hardinesse in condemning: for, not marking the compasse of his bent, he will indge of the length of his cast: for in my opinion it is one especiall praise of many, which are due to this poet, that he hath labored to restore, as to their rightfull heritage, such good and naturall English wordes, as have beene long time out of use, and almost cleane disherited. Which is the only cause, that our mother tongue, which truly of itself is both full inough for prose, and stately inough for verse, hath long time been counted most bare and barren of both. Which default when as some endevoured to salve and recure, they patched up the holes with peeces and rags of other languages, borrowing here of the French, there of the Italian, every where of the Latin; not weighing how ill those tongues accord with themselves, but much worse with ours: so now they have made our English tong a gallimaufrey, or hodgepodge of all other speeches. Other some not so well seene in the English tongue, as perhaps in other languages, if they happen to heare an olde word, albeit very naturall and significant, cry out straightway, that we speake no English, but gibberish, or rather such as in olde time Evanders mother spake : whose first shame is, that they are not ashamed, in their own mother tongue, to bee counted strangers and aliens. The second shame no lesse then the first, that what so they understand not, they straightway deeme to be senselesse, and not at all to be understoode. Much like to the mole in Aesops fable, that, being blind herself, wouldin no wise be perswaded, that any beast could see. The last, more shamefull then both, that of their owne country and natural speach, which togither with their nurses milke they sucked, they have so base regard and bastard iudgement, that they wil not only themselves not labour to garnish and beautifie it, but also repine, that of other it should be embellished. Like to the dogge in the maunger, that himselfe can eate no hay, and yet barketh at the hungrie bullock, that so faine would feed: whose currish kinde, though it cannot be kept from barking, yet I coune them thanke that they refraine from byting. Now, for the knitting of sentences, which they call the ioynts and members therof, and for all the compasse of the speech, it is round without roughnesse, and learned without hardnesse, such in deede as may be perceyved of the least, understood of the most, but indged onely of the learned. For what in most English writers useth to be loose, and as it were unright, in this authour is Nethlessé, let them a Gods name feed on their owne folly, so they seeke not to darken the beams of others glorie. As for Colin, under whose person the anthors selfe is shadowed, how farre he is from such vaunted titles and glorious shewes, both himselfe sheweth, where he sayth: and Of Muses Hobbin, I conne no skill. well grounded, finely framed, and strongly trussed | his unstayed youth had long wandred in the comup togither. In regarde whereof, I scorne and mon labirinth of love, in which time to mitigate spew out the rakehelly rout of our ragged rymers and allay the heate of his passion, or else to (for so themselves use to hunt the letter) which warne (as he saith) the yong shepheards, his without learning boast, without indgment iangle, equals and companions, of his unfortunate folly, without reason rage and fome, as if some instinct hee compiled these twelve aeglogues, which, for of poetical spirit had newly ravished them above that they be proportioned to the state of the the meannesse of common capacitie. And being, twelve moneths, he tearmeth it the Shepheards in the midst of all their braverie, suddenly, either Calender, applying an olde name to a new work. for want of matter, or rime; or having forgotten Hereunto have I added a certaine Glosse, or their former conceit; they seem to be so pained scholion, for the exposition of olde wordes; and, and travailed in their remembrance, as it were a harder phrases which maner of glossing and comwoman in childbirth, or as that same Pythia, when menting, well I wote, will seeme strange and the traunce came upon her. Os rabidum fera rare in our tongue: yet, for so much as I knewe corda domans, &c. many excellent and proper devises, both in wordes and matter, would passe in the specdie course of reading either as unknowne, or as not marked; and that in this kinde, as in other, we might be equal to the learned of other nations; I thought good to take the paines upon me, the rather for that by meanes of some familiar acquaintance I was made privie to his counsaile and secret meaning in them, as also in sundrie other works of his. Which albeit I know he nothing so much hateth, as to promulgate, yet thus much have I adventured upon his friendship, himselfe being for long time farre estraunged; hoping that this will the rather occasion him to put foorth diverse other excellent workes of his, which sleep in silence ; as his Dreams, his Legends, his Court of Cupid, and sundrie others, whose commendation to set out were verie vaine, the things though worthie of many, yet beeing knowne to fewe. These my present paines, if to any they be pleasurable or profitable, be you judge, mine owne maister Harvey, to whom I have both in respect of your worthines generally, and otherwise upon some particular and speciall considerations, vowed this my labour, and the maidenheade of this our common friends poetrie; himselfe having alreadie in the beginning dedicated it to the noble and worthie gentleman, the right worshipfull maister Philip Sidney, a speciall favourer and maintainer of all kinde of learning. Whose cause, I pray you, sir, if envie shall stirre up any wrongfull accusation, defend with your mightie rhetoricke and other your rath gifts of learning, as you can, and shield with your good will, as you ought, against the malice and outrage of so many enemies, as I know will bee set on fire with the sparkes of his kindled glorie. And thus recom. mending the authour unto you, as unto his most speciall good friend, and my selfe unto you both, as one making singular account of two so very And also appeareth by the basenesse of the name, wherein it seemeth he chose rather to unfold great matter of argument covertly then, professing it, not suffice thereto accordingly. Which moved him rather in aeglogues then otherwise to write, doubting perhaps his ability, which he little needed, or minding to furnish our tongue with this kinde, wherein it faulteth; or following the example of the best and most ancient poets, which devised this kinde of writing, being both so base for the matter, and homely for the maner, at the first to trie their habilities; and as yong birdes, that bee newly crept out of the nest, by little first prove their tender winges, before they make a greater flight. So flew Theocritus, as you may perccyve hee was alreadie full fledged. So flewe Virgil, as not yet well feeling his wings. So flew Mantoane, as not being ful somd. So Petrarque. So Boccace. So Marot, Sanazarius, and also diverse other excellent both Italian and French poets, whose footing this author everie where foloweth yet so as few, but they be well sented, can trace him out. So finally flieth this car new poet as a birde whose principals be scarce growne out, but yet as one that in time shall be able to keepe wing with the best. Now, as touching the general drift and purpose of his aeglogues, I mind not to say much, himself laboring to conceal it. Only this appeareth, that good and so choise friends, I bid you both most hartily farewell, and commit you and your commendable studies to the tuition of the Greatest. Your owne assuredly to be commaunded, Post scr. E. K. upon good iudgement, though indeede fewe goatheards have to doe herein, neverthelesse doubteth not to call them by the used and best knowen name. Other curious discourses hereof I reserve to greater occasion. These twelve aeglogues, every where aunswering to the seasons of the twelve moneths, may be well divided into three formes or rankes. For either they be plaintive, as the first, the sixt, the eleventh, and the twelfth; or recreative, such as all those Now I trust, M. Harvey, that upon sight of bee, which containe matter of love, or commendation of speciall personages; or morall, which for your special friends and fellow poets doings, or the most part be mixed with some satyricall bitterelse for envie of so many unworthy quidams, nesse; namely, the second, of reverence due to which catch at the garland which to you alone is olde age; the fift, of coloured deceyte; the seventh due, you wil be perswaded to plucke out of the and ninth, of dissolute shepheards and pastors; the tenth, of contempt of poetrie and pleasant wittes. hatefull darknes those so many excellent English And to this division may everie thing herein bee poems of yours which lie hid, and bring them reasonable applyed; a few onelie except, whose forth to eternal light. Trust me, you do both them special purpose and meaning I am not privie to. great wrong, in depriving them of the desired And thus much generally of these twelve aeglogues. Now will we speake particularlie of all, and first of sun; and also your selfe, in smothering your de- the first, which bee calleth by the first monethes served praises; and all men generally, in with- name, Ianuarie: wherein to some hee may seeme holding from them so divine pleasures, which they fouly to have faulted, in that he erroniously beginneth with that moneth, which beginneth not the might conceyve of your gallant English verses, as yeare. For it is well knowne, and stoutlie mainthey have alreadie done of your Latin poems, tained with strong reasons of the learned, that the yeare beginneth in March; for then the Sunne rewhich, in my opinion, both for invention and elonueth his finished course, and the seasonable spring cution are verie delicate and super-excellent.refresheth the earth, and the pleasaunce thereof, And thus againe I take my leave of my good M. Harvey. From my lodging at London this tenth of Aprill, 1579. THE GENERALL ARGUMENT OF THE WHOLE BOOKE. LITTLE, I hope, needeth me at large to discourse the first originall of aeglogues, having alreadie touched the same. But, for the worde aeglogues I know is unknowen to most, and also mistaken of some of the best learned, (as they thinke) I will say somewhat thereof, beeing not at all impertinent to my present purpose. being buried in the sadnesse of the dead winter now worne away, reliveth. This opinion maintaine the olde astrologers and philosophers, namely, the reverend Andalo, and Macrobius in his holy dayes of Saturne; which account also was generally observed both of Grecians and Romans. But, saving the leave of such learned heades, wee maintaine a custome of counting the seasons from the moneth Ianuarie, uppon a more speciall cause then the heathen philosophers ever could conceyve, that is, for the incarnation of our mightie Saviour, and eternall Redeemer the Lorde Christ, who as then renewing the state of the decayed worlde, and returning the compasse of expyred yeares to theyr former date and first commencement, left to us his heyres a memoriall of his byrth in the end of the last yeare and beginning of the next. Which reckoning, beside that eternall monument of our saluation, leaneth also upon good proofe of speciall iudgement. They were first of the Greekes, the inventours of For albeeit that in elder tymes, when as yet the them, called Aeglogai, as it were Aegon, or Aegi-count of the yeare was not perfected, as afterward nomon logi, that is, goteheardes tales. For although it was by Iulius Caesar, they began to tell the moin Virgil and others the speakers be more shep-nethes from Marches beginning, and according to heards then goatheards, yet Theocritus, in whom is more ground of authoritie then in Virgil, this specially from that deriving, as from the first heade and wellspring, the whole invention of these acglogues, maketh goateheards the persons and authors of his tales. This being, who seeth not the grossnesse of such as by colour of learning would make us beleeve, that they are more rightly tearmed eclogai, as they would say, extraordinarie discourses of unnecessarie matter: which definition albe in substance and meaning it agree with the nature of the thing, yet no whit answereth with the analysis and interpretation of the worde. For they be not tearmed eclogues, but aeglogues; which sentence this authour verie well observing, the same God (as is sayde in Scripture) commaunded the people of the lewes, to count the moneth Abib, that which wee call March, for the first moneth, in remembraunce that in that moneth hee brought them out of the lande of Aegypt: yet, according to tradition of latter times it hath been otherwise observed, both in government of the church and rule of mightiest realmes. For from Iulius Cæsar who first observed the leape yeare, which he called bissextilem annum, and brought into a more certaine course the odde wandring dayes which of the Greekes were called hyperbainontes, of the Romans intercalares, (for in such matter of learning I am forced to use the tearmes of the learned) the moneths have beene numbred |