Page:An English Garner Ingatherings from Our History and Literature (Volume 1 1877).pdf/284

To give the fatal stroke. The stars they blame;
That deaf or careless seem at their request.
The pleasant shade of stately groves they shun.
They leave their crystal springs, where they wont frame
Sweet bowers of myrtle twigs and laurel fair;
To sport themselves free from the scorching sun.
And now the hollow caves, where HORROR dark
Doth dwell, whence banished is the gladsome air
They seek; and there in mourning spend their time
With wailful tunes; whiles wolves do howl and bark,
And seem to bear a bourdon to their plaint.

  Lycon. PHILLISIDES is dead! O doleful rhyme!
Why should my tongue express thee? Who is left
Now to uphold thy hopes, when they do faint;
LYCON unfortunate? What spiteful fate?
What luckless destiny hath thee bereft
Of thy chief comfort, of thy only stay?
Where is become thy wonted happy state?
Alas, wherein through many a hill and dale,
Through pleasant woods, and many an unknown way,
Along the banks of many silver streams,
Thou with him yodest; and with him did scale
The craggy rocks of th'Alps and Appennine?
Still with the Muses sporting, while those beams
Of virtue kindled in his noble breast;
Which after did so gloriously forth shine?