THE SONG OF IOPAS, UNFINISHED.

WHEN Dido feasted the wand'ring Troian knight, Whom Juno's wrath with storms did force in Lybic sands to light;

That mighty Atlas taught, the supper lasting long, With crisped locks on golden harp Iopas sang in

song:

'That same,' quod he, that we the World do call

and name,

Of heaven and earth with all contents, it is the very frame.

Or thus, of heavenly powers, by more power kept

in one;

Repugnant kinds, in mids of whom the earth hath place alone;

Firm, round, of living things the mother, place, and nurse;

Without the which in equal weight, this heaven doth hold his course:

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And it is call'd by name the first and moving heaven. The firmament is placed next, containing other seven. Of heavenly powers that same is planted full and thick,

As shining lights which we call stars, that therein cleave and stick:

With great swift sway the first, and with his restless

source,

Carrieth itself, and all those eight, in even continual

course.

And of this world so round within that rolling case, Two points there be that never move, but firmly keep their place:

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The one we see alway, the other stands object Against the same, dividing just the ground by line direct;

Which by imagination drawen from one to t'other Toucheth the centre of the earth, for way there is none other:

And these be call'd the poles, described by stars not bright:

Arctic the one northward we see: Antarctic t'other

hight.

The line, that we devise from the one to t'other so, As axle is; upon the which the heavens about do go; Which of water nor earth, of air, nor fire, have kind; Therefore the substance of those same were hard for man to find:

But they been uncorrupt, simple and pure unmix'd; And so we say been all those stars, that in those same be fix'd:

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And eke those erring seven, in circle as they stray; So call'd, because against that first they have repugnant way;

And smaller by-ways too, scant sensible to man;
Too busy work for my poor harp; let sing them he
that can.

The widest save the first, of all these nine above,
One hundred year doth ask of space, for one degree to

move.

Of which degrees we make, in the first moving heaven,

Three hundred and threescore, in parts justly divided

even.

And yet there is another between those heavens two, Whose moving is so sly, so slack, I name it not for

now.

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The seventh heaven, or the shell, next to the starry

sky,

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All those degrees that gathereth up, with aged pace

so sly:

And doth perform the same, as elders' count hath been,

In nine and twenty years complete, and days almost sixteen;

Doth carry in his bowt,' the star of Saturn old,

A threat'ner of all living things with drought and with his cold.

The sixth whom this contains, doth stalk with younger

pace,

And in twelve year doth somewhat more than t'other's voyage was:

And this in it doth bear the star of Jove benign, "Tween Saturn's malice and us men, friendly defending

sign.

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The fifth bears bloody Mars, that in three hundred

days

And twice eleven with one full year hath finish'd all those ways.

A year doth ask the fourth, and hours thereto six, And in the same the day his eye, the Sun, therein he

sticks.

The third that govern'd is by that that governs

me,

And love for love, and for no love provokes, as oft we

see,

In like space doth perform that course, that did the

other.

So doth the next unto the same, that second is in

order;

1Bowt:' orbit.

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But it doth bear the star, that call'd is Mercury; That many a crafty secret step doth tread, as calcars1 try.

That sky is last, and fix'd next us those ways hath

gone,

In seven-and-twenty common days, and eke the third of one;

And beareth with his sway the diverse Moon about; Now bright, now brown, now bent, now full, and now her light is out:

Thus have they of their own two movings all these Seven;

One, wherein they be carried still, each in his several heaven:

Another of themselves, where their bodies be laid

In by-ways, and in lesser rounds, as I afore have said; Save of them all the Sun doth stray least from the straight:

The starry sky hath but one course, that we have call'd the eight.

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And all these movings eight are meant from west to

east;

Although they seem to climb aloft, I say, from east to west.

But that is but by force of their first moving sky, In twice twelve hours from east to east, that carrieth them by and by:

But mark we well also, these movings of these seven Be not above the axletree of the first moving heaven. For they have their two poles directly t' one to t' other,' &c.

1 Calcars:' astrologers.

SONGS AND EPIGRAMS.

A DESCRIPTION OF SUCH A ONE AS
HE WOULD LOVE.

A FACE that should content me wondrous well,
Should not be fair, but lovely to behold;
Of gladsome chere, all grief for to expel;

With sober looks, so would I that it should
Speak without word, such words as none can tell:
Her tress also should be of crisped gold;
With wit, and these perchance I might be tried,
And knit again with knot, that should not slide.

WHY LOVE IS BLIND.

OF purpose Love chose first for to be blind,
For he with sight of that, that I behold,
Vanquish'd had been, against all godly kind:

His bow your hand, and truss should have unfold; And he with me to serve had been assign'd:

But, for he blind and reckless would him hold, And still by chance his deadly strokes bestow; With such as see, I serve, and suffer woe.

THE LOVER BLAMETH HIS INSTANT
DESIRE.

DESIRE, alas! my master and my foe,

So sore alter'd thyself, how mayst thou see? Sometime thou seekest, and drives me to and fro; Sometime thou lead'st, that leadeth thee and me.