Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ON THE AUTHOR OF BRITANNIA'S PEERLESS PASTORALS, by EDWARD HALL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ON THE AUTHOR OF BRITANNIA'S PEERLESS PASTORALS, by                    
First Line: I'll take thy judgment, golden midas, now
Last Line: And let thy tavy high as tiber rise.
Subject(s): Browne, William (1591-1645)


I'LL take thy judgment, golden Midas, now,
Nor will of Phœbus harmony allow,
Since Pan hath such a shepherd, whose sweet laysMay claim deservedly the Delphic
bays.
Thrice happy Syrinx, only great in this,
Thou kissest him in metamorphosis.
Flock hither, satyrs, learn a roundelay
Of him to grace Sylvanus' holiday.
Come hither, shepherds, let your bleating flocks
Of bearded goats browse on the mossy rocks.
Come from Arcadia, banish'd shepherds, come;
Let flourishing Britannia be your home,
Crown'd with your anadems and chaplets trim,
And invocate no other Pan but him.
'Tis he can keep you safe from all your flocks,
From greedy wolf, or oft-beguiling fox.
Let him but tune his notes, and you shall see
The wolf abandon his rapacity,
And innocently trip and frisk among
Your wanton lambkins at his swanlike song.
Yea, had the Thracian sung but half so well,
He had not left Eurydice in hell.
Then rally, swain, astonish human eyes,
And let thy Tavy high as Tiber rise.





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