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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374504" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Shepheardes Calender: July</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">July: Ægloga Septima. Thomalin & Morrell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thomalin.<br>IS not thilke same a goteheard prowde, <br>that sittes on yonder bancke, <br>Whose straying heard them selfe doth shrowde <br>emong the bushes rancke? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Morrell.<br>What ho, thou iollye shepheards swayne, <br>come vp the hill to me: <br>Better is, then the lowly playne, <br>als for thy flocke, and thee. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thomalin.<br>Ah God shield, man, that I should clime, <br>and learne to looke alofte, <br>This reede is ryfe, that oftentime <br>great clymbers fall vnsoft. <br>In humble dales is footing fast, <br>the trode is not so tickle: <br>And though one fall through heedlesse hast, <br>yet is his misse not mickle. <br>And now the Sonne hath reared vp <br>his fyriefooted teme, <br>Making his way betweene the Cuppe, <br>and golden Diademe: <br>The rampant Lyon hunts he fast, <br>with Dogge of noysome breath, <br>Whose balefull barking bringes in hast <br>pyne, plagues, and dreery death. <br>Agaynst his cruell scortching heate <br>where hast thou couerture? <br>The wastefull hylls vnto his threate <br>is a playne ouerture. <br>But if thee lust, to holden chat <br>with seely shepherds swayne, <br>Come downe, and learne the little what, <br>that Thomalin can sayne. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Morrell.<br>Syker, thous but a laesie loord, <br>and rekes much of thy swinck, <br>That with fond termes, and weetlesse words <br>to blere myne eyes doest thinke. <br>In euill houre thou hentest in hond <br>thus holy hylles to blame, <br>For sacred vnto saints they stond, <br>and of them han theyr name. <br>S. Michels mount who does not know, <br>that wardes the Westerne coste? <br>And of S. Brigets bowre I trow, <br>all Kent can rightly boaste: <br>And they that con of Muses skill, <br>sayne most what, that they dwell <br>(As goteheards wont) vpon a hill, <br>beside a learned well. <br>And wonned not the great god Pan, <br>vpon mount Oliuet: <br>Feeding the blessed flocke of Dan, <br>which dyd himselfe beget? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thomalin.<br>O blessed sheepe, O shepheard great, <br>that bought his flocke so deare, <br>And them did saue with bloudy sweat <br>from Wolues, that would them teare. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Morrel.<br>Besyde, as holy fathers sayne, <br>there is a hyllye place, <br>Where Titan ryseth from the mayne, <br>to renne hys dayly race. <br>Vpon whose toppe the starres bene stayed, <br>and all the skie doth leane, <br>There is the caue, where Phebe layed, <br>The shepheard long to dreame. <br>Whilome there vsed shepheards all <br>to feede theyr flocks at will, <br>Till by his foly one did fall, <br>that all the rest did spill. <br>And sithens shepheardes bene foresayd <br>from places of delight: <br>For thy I weene thou be affrayed, <br>to clime this hilles height. <br>Of Synah can I tell thee more, <br>and of our Ladyes bowre: <br>But little needes to strow my store, <br>suffice this hill of our. <br>Here han the holy Faunes resourse, <br>and Syluanes haunten rathe. <br>Here has the salt Medway his sourse, <br>wherein the Nymphes doe bathe. <br>The salt Medway, that trickling stremis <br>adowne the dales of Kent: <br>Till with his elder brother Themis <br>his brackish waues be meynt. <br>Here growes Melampode euery where, <br>and Terebinth good for Gotes: <br>The one, my madding kiddes to smere, <br>the next, to heale theyr throtes. <br>Hereto, the hills bene nigher heuen, <br>and thence the passage ethe. <br>As well can proue the piercing levin, <br>that seeldome falls bynethe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thomalin.<br>Syker thou speakes lyke a lewde lorrell, <br>of Heauen to demen so: <br>How be I am but rude and borrell, <br>yet nearer wayes I knowe. <br>To Kerke the narre, from God more farre, <br>has bene an old sayd sawe. <br>And he that striues to touch the starres, <br>oft stombles at a strawe. <br>Alsoone may shepheard clymbe to skye, <br>that leades in lowly dales, <br>As Goteherd prowd that sitting hye, <br>vpon the Mountaine sayles. <br>My seely sheepe like well belowe, <br>they neede not Melampode: <br>For they bene hale enough, I trowe, <br>and liken theyr abode. <br>But if they with thy Gotes should yede, <br>they soone myght be corrupted: <br>Or like not of the frowie fede, <br>or with the weedes be glutted. <br>The hylls, where dwelled holy saints, <br>I reuerence and adore: <br>Not for themselfe, but for the sayncts, <br>which han be dead of yore. <br>And nowe they bene to heauen forewent, <br>theyr good is with them goe: <br>Theyr sample onely to vs lent, <br>that als we mought doe soe. <br>Shepheards they weren of the best, <br>and liued in lowly leas: <br>And sith theyr soules bene now at rest, <br>why done we them disease? <br>Such one he was, (as I haue heard <br>old Algrind often sayne) <br>That whilome was the first shepheard, <br>and liued with little gayne: <br>As meeke he was, as meeke mought be, <br>simple, as simple sheepe, <br>Humble, and like in eche degree <br>the flocke, which he did keepe. <br>Often he vsed of hys keepe <br>a sacrifice to bring, <br>Nowe with a Kidde, now with a sheepe <br>The Altars hallowing. <br>So lowted he vnto hys Lord, <br>such fauour couth he fynd, <br>That sithens neuer was abhord, <br>the simple shepheards kynd. <br>And such I weene the brethren were, <br>that came from Canaan: <br>The brethren twelue, that kept yfere <br>The flockes of mighty Pan. <br>But nothing such thilke shephearde was, <br>whom Ida hyll dyd beare, <br>That left hys flocke, to fetch a lasse, <br>whose loue he bought to deare: <br>For he was proude, that ill was payd, <br>(no such mought shepheards bee) <br>And with lewde lust was ouerlayd: <br>tway things doen ill agree: <br>But shepheard mought be meeke and mylde, <br>well eyed, as Argus was, <br>With fleshly follyes vndefyled, <br>and stoute as steede of brasse. <br>Sike one (sayd Algrin) Moses was, <br>that sawe hys makers face, <br>His face more cleare, then Christall glasse, <br>and spake to him in place. <br>This had a brother, (his name I knewe) <br>the first of all his cote, <br>A shepheard trewe, yet not so true, <br>as he that earst I hote. <br>Whilome all these were lowe, and lief, <br>and loued their flocks to feede, <br>They neuer strouen to be chiefe, <br>and simple was theyr weede. <br>But now (thanked be God therefore) <br>the world is well amend, <br>Their weedes bene not so nighly wore, <br>such simplesse mought them shend: <br>They bene yclad in purple and pall, <br>so hath theyr god them blist, <br>They reigne and rulen ouer all, <br>and lord it, as they list: <br>Ygyrt with belts of glitterand gold, <br>(mought they good sheepeheards bene) <br>Theyr Pan theyr sheepe to them has sold, <br>I saye as some haue seene. <br>For Palinode (if thou him ken) <br>yode late on Pilgrimage <br>To Rome, (if such be Rome) and then <br>he sawe thilke misusage. <br>For shepeheards (sayd he) there doen leade, <br>As Lordes done other where, <br>Theyr sheepe han crustes, and they the bread: <br>the chippes, and they the chere: <br>They han the fleece, and eke the flesh, <br>(O seely sheepe the while) <br>The corn is theyrs, let other thresh, <br>their hands they may not file. <br>They han great stores, and thriftye stockes, <br>great freendes and feeble foes: <br>What neede hem caren for their flocks? <br>theyr boyes can looke to those. <br>These wisardsweltre in welths waues, <br>pampred in pleasures deepe, <br>They han fatte kernes, and leany knaues, <br>their fasting flockes to keepe. <br>Sike mister men bene all misgone, <br>they heapen hylles of wrath: <br>Sike syrly shepheards han we none, <br>they keepen all the path. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Morell.<br>Here is a great deale of good matter, <br>lost for lacke of telling, <br>Now sicker I see, thou doest but clatter: <br>harme may come of melling. <br>Thou medlest more, then shall haue thanke, <br>to wyten shepheards welth: <br>When folke bene fat, and riches rancke, <br>it is a signe of helth. <br>But say to me, what is Algrin he, <br>that is so oft bynempt. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thomalin.<br>He is a shepheard great in gree, <br>but hath bene long ypent. <br>One daye he sat vpon a hyll, <br>(as now thou wouldest me: <br>But I am tought by Algrins ill, <br>To loue the lowe degree.) <br>For sitting so with bared scalpe, <br>an Eagle sored hye, <br>That weening hys whyte head was chalke, <br>A shell fish downe let flye: <br>Shee weend the shell fish to haue broake, <br>but therewith bruzd his brayne, <br>So now astonied with the stroke, <br>he lyes in lingring payne. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Morrell.<br>Ah good Algrin, his hap was ill, <br>But shall be bett in time. <br>Now farwell shepheard, sith thys hyll <br>thou hast such doubt to climbe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thomalins Embleme. <br>In medio virtus. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Morrells Embleme. <br>In summo foelicitas</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edmund+Spenser">Edmund Spenser</a><div class=q>
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Thomalin.
IS not thilke same a goteheard prowde, 
that sittes on yonder bancke, 
Whose straying heard them selfe doth shrowde 
emong the bushes rancke? 

Morrell.
What ho, thou iollye shepheards swayne, ..."></div>
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