Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AN ECLOGUE OCCASIONED BY TWO DOCTORS DISPUTING UPON PREDESTINATION, by THOMAS RANDOLPH


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AN ECLOGUE OCCASIONED BY TWO DOCTORS DISPUTING UPON PREDESTINATION, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Ho! Jolly thyrsis, whither in such haste?
Last Line: Pan's cornet's blown, and the great sheep-shear's kept.
Subject(s): Fate; Destiny


Corydon.

HO! jolly Thyrsis, whither in such haste?
Is't for a wager that you run so fast?
Or past your hour below yon hawthorn-tree
Does longing Galatea look for thee?

Thyrsis.

No, Corydon, I heard young Daphnis say
Alexis challenged Tityrus to-day
Who best shall sing of shepherd's art and praise --
But hark! I hear 'em: listen to their lays.

Tityrus.

Alexis a-reed, what means this mystic thing? --
An ewe I had two lambs at once did bring,
Th' one black as jet, the other white as snow;
Say in just providence how it could be so?

Alexis.

Will you Pan's goodness therefore partial call,
That might as well have given thee none at all?

Tityrus.

Were they not both ean'd by the selfsame ewe?
How could they merit then so different hue?
Poor lamb, alas! and couldst thou (yet unborn)
Sin to deserve the guilt of such a scorn!
Thou hadst not yet foul'd a religious spring,
Nor fed on plots of hollowed grass, to bring
Stains to thy fleece; nor brows'd upon a tree
Sacred to Pan or Pales' deity.
The gods are ignorant, if they not foreknow,
And (knowing) 'tis unjust to use thee so.

Alexis.

Tityr, with me contend, or Corydon;
But let the gods, and their high wills alone:
For in our flocks that freedom challenge we:
This kid is sacrific'd, and that goes free.

Tityrus.

Feed where you will, my lambs; what boots it us
To watch and water, fold and drive you thus?
This on the barren mountains flesh can glean;
That, fed in flowr'y pastures, will be lean.

Alexis.

Plough, sow, and compass: nothing boots at all,
Unless the dew upon the tilths do fall.
So labour, silly shepherds, what we can:
All's vain, unless a blessing drop from Pan.

Tityrus.

Ill thrive thy ewes, if thou these lies maintain!

Alexis.

And may thy goats miscarry, saucy swain!

Thyrsis.

Fie, shepherds, fie! while you these strifes begin,
Here creeps the wolf, and there the fox gets in.
To your vain piping on so deep a reed
The lambkins listen, but forget to feed.
It gentle swains befits of love to sing,
How love left heaven and heaven's immortal King,
His co-eternal Father. O, admire,
Love is a son as ancient as his sire.
His mother was a virgin: how could come
A birth so great, and from so chaste a womb?
His cradle was a manger; shepherds see
True faith delights in poor simplicity.
He press'd no grapes, nor prun'd the fruitful vine,
But could of water make a brisker wine.
Nor did he plough the earth, and to his barn
The harvest bring, nor thresh and grind the corn.
Without all these love could supply our need,
And with five loaves five thousand hungers feed.
More wonders did he, for all which suppose
How he was crown'd, with lily or with rose?
The winding ivy, or the glorious bay,
Or myrtle, with the which Venus (they say)
Girts her proud temples? Shepherds, none of them:
But wore (poor head) a thorny diadem.
Feet to the lame he gave, with which they run
To work their surgeon's last destruction.
The blind from him had eyes; but us'd that light,
Like basilisks, to kill him with their sight.
Lastly, he was betray'd -- O, sing of this --
How love could be betray'd! 'twas with a kiss.
And then his innocent hands and guiltless feet
Were nail'd unto the cross, striving to meet
In his spread arms his spouse, so mild in show
He seem'd to court th' embraces of his foe.
Through his pierc'd side, through which a spear was sent.
A torrent of all-flowing balsam went.
Run, Amaryllis, run! one drop from thence
Cures thy sad soul, and drives all anguish hence.
Go, sunburnt Thestylis; go, and repair
Thy beauty lost, and be again made fair,
Love-sick Amyntas, get a philtrum here,
To make thee lovely to thy truly dear.
But, coy Licoris, take the pearl from thine,
And take the bloodshot from Alexis' eyne.
Wear this, an amulet 'gainst all Syrens' smiles,
The stings of snakes, and tears of crocodiles,
Now love is dead. O no, he never dies;
Three days he sleeps, and then again doth rise
(Like fair Aurora from the Eastern bay),
And with his beams drives all our clouds away.
This pipe unto our flocks, this sonnet get --
But O, I see the sun ready to set.
Good night to all, for the great night is come;
Flocks, to your folds, and shepherds, hie you home:
To-morrow morning, when we all have slept,
Pan's cornet's blown, and the great sheep-shear's kept.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net