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The sixth muse
And did provoke us, if we shut for gold,
Or honours praise, betimes, to morrow would:
Or for our mistres if we had a minde,
Doubtlesse, said Gall, thereto we are inclinde:
But for the present we have taken in hand
To view our fields by river and by land;
Boast not therefore, for nothing will disheart us,
Nor from our present progresse will divert us.
But of our journey having made an end,
Our lives in such brave quarrell will we spend.
This answere when they heard, they did compeer
With ardent hearts some further newes to speer,
And what brave sport we found, what pastime rare?
Forthwith in loftie verse Gall to declare
Began, his breast when Phoebus once did warme,
Their ears and hearts, his heavenly voice did charme,
And I to keep a consort with full voice,
As fell by turn, did make them all rejoice
With sweetest rimes; for both of us inclinde,
Even as Democritus did truely minde
Of Poets all, when once that sacred fire[1]
With divine furie did our breasts inspire.
And thus with heavenlie rapture, as transported
That whole dayes journey Gall to them reported,
Till Hesperus appeard, and in despight
Of heavens which hearkned, forc'd to bid good night.
Which when I call to minde, it makes me cry
Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thethee to die?
The night was short, Phoebus did touch the line
Where cruked Cancer makes him to decline,
Or honours praise, betimes, to morrow would:
Or for our mistres if we had a minde,
Doubtlesse, said Gall, thereto we are inclinde:
But for the present we have taken in hand
To view our fields by river and by land;
Boast not therefore, for nothing will disheart us,
Nor from our present progresse will divert us.
But of our journey having made an end,
Our lives in such brave quarrell will we spend.
This answere when they heard, they did compeer
With ardent hearts some further newes to speer,
And what brave sport we found, what pastime rare?
Forthwith in loftie verse Gall to declare
Began, his breast when Phoebus once did warme,
Their ears and hearts, his heavenly voice did charme,
And I to keep a consort with full voice,
As fell by turn, did make them all rejoice
With sweetest rimes; for both of us inclinde,
Even as Democritus did truely minde
Of Poets all, when once that sacred fire[1]
With divine furie did our breasts inspire.
And thus with heavenlie rapture, as transported
That whole dayes journey Gall to them reported,
Till Hesperus appeard, and in despight
Of heavens which hearkned, forc'd to bid good night.
Which when I call to minde, it makes me cry
Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thethee to die?
The night was short, Phoebus did touch the line
Where cruked Cancer makes him to decline,
- ↑ Excludit sanos Helicone poetas Democritus, Horat. in arte.