DEEM
EEM not, ye plaintive crew, that suffer wrong,
Ne thou, O man! who deal'st the tort, misween
The equal gods, who heaven's sky-mansions throng,
(Though viewless to the eyne they distant sheen)
Spectators reckless of our actions been.
Turning the volumes of grave sages old,
Where auncient saws in fable may be seen,

This truth I fond in paynim tale enroll'd;
Which for ensample drad my Muse shall here unfold.

II.

What time Arcadia's flowret vallies fam'd,
Pelasgus, first of monarchs old, obey'd,

There wonn'd a wight, and Lycon was he nam'd,
Unaw'd by conscience, of no gods afraid,

Ne justice rul'd his heart, ne mercy sway'd.
Some held him kin to that abhorred race,

Which heaven's high towers with mad emprize assay'd;

And some his cruel lynage did ytrace

From fell Erynnis join'd in Pluto's dire embrace.

III.

But he, perdy, far other tale did feign,

And claim'd alliaunce with the Sisters nine; And deem'd himself (what deems not pride so vain ?)

The peerless paragon of wit divine.

Vaunting that every foe should rue its tine.
Right doughty Wight! yet, sooth, withouten smart,
All powerless fell the losel's shafts malign:

'Tis Vertue's arm to wield Wit's heavenly dart, Point its keen barb with force, and send it to the heart.

IV.

One only impe he had, Pastora hight,

Whose sweet amenaunce pleas'd each shepherd's

eye :

Yet pleas'd she not base Lycon's evil spright,
Tho blame in her not Malice moten spy,

Clear, without spot, as summer's cloudless sky.

Hence poets feign'd, Lycean Pan array'd

In Lycon's form, enflam'd with passion high,
Deceiv'd her mother in the covert glade,

And from the stoln embrace ysprong the heavenly Maid.

V.

Thus fabling they mean while the Damsel fair
A shepherd Youth remark'd, as o'er the plain
She deffly pac'd elong so debonair:

Seem'd she as one of Dian's chosen train.
Full many a fond excuse he knew to feign,
In sweet converse to while with her the day,
'Till love unwares his heedless heart did gain.
Nor dempt he, simple wight, no mortal may
The blinded God once harbour'd, when he list, fore-

say.

VI.

Now much he meditates if yet to speak,
And now resolves his passion to conceal :
But sure, quoth he, my seely heart will break,
If aye I smother what I aye must feel.

At length by hope embolden'd to reveal,
The laboring secret dropped from his tong.
Whiles frequent singults check'd his faltring tale,
In modest wise her head Pastora hong:

For never maid more chaste inspired shepherd's song.

VII.

What needs me to recount in long detail
The tender parley which these lemans held :
How oft he vowed his love her ne'er should fail;
How oft the stream from forth her eyne outwell'd,
Doubting if constancy yet ever dwell'd

In heart of youthful wight: suffice to know,
Each rising doubt he in her bosome quell'd.
So parted they, more blithsome both, I trow:
For rankling love conceal'd, me seems, is deadly woe.

VIII.

Eftsoons to Lycon swift the youth did fare,
(Lagg'd ever youth when Cupid urg'd his way ?)
And straight his gentle purpose did declare,
And sooth the mount'naunce of his herds display.
Ne Lycon meant his suiten to foresay:

"Be thine, Pastora (quoth the masker sly)

And twice two thousand sheep her dower shall pay."

Beat then the lover's heart with joyaunce high; Ne dempt that aught his bliss could now betray, Ne guess'd that foul deceit in Lycon's bosome lay.

IX.

So forth he yode to seek his reverend sire ;
(The good Euphormius shepherds him did call)
How sweet Pastora did his bosome fire,

Her worth, her promis'd flocks, he tolden all.

Ah! nere, my son, let Lycon thee enthrall, (Reply'd the sage, in wise experience old) "Smooth is his tongue, but full of guile withal, In promise faithless, and in vaunting bold: Ne ever lamb of his will bleat within thy fold.

X.

With words prophetic thus Euphormius spake :
And fact confirm'd what wisdom thus foretold:
Full many a mean devise did Lycon make,
The hoped day of spousal to with-hold,

Framing new trains when nought mote serve his old.

Nath'less he vow'd, Cyllene, cloud-topt hill,
Should sooner down the lowly delve be roll'd,
Than he his plighted promise nould fulfill:
But when, perdy, or where, the caitive sayen nill.

XI.

Whiles thus the tedious suns had journey'd round,
Ne ought mote now the lovers hearts divide,
Ne trust was there, ne truth in Lycon found;
The Maid with matron Juno for her guide,
The Youth by Concord led, in secret hy'd
To Hymen's sacred fane: the honest deed
Each God approv'd, and close the bands were ty❜d.
Certes, till happier moments should succeed,

No prying eyne they ween'd their emprize mote

areed.