And in the midst thereof a star appears, As fairly formed as any star in sky; Resembling STELLA in her freshest years, Forth darting beams of beauty from her eyes: And all the day it standeth full of dew, Which is the tears that from her eyes did flow.
That herb of some, "Starlight" is called by name; Of others _Penthia_, though not so well: But thou wherever thou dost find the same, From this day forth do call it _Astrophel_. And whensoever thou it up dost take; Do pluck it softly, for that shepherd's sake.
Hereof when tidings far abroad did pass, The shepherds all which lovèd him full dear-- And sure, full dear of all he lovèd was-- Did thither flock to see what they did hear. And when that piteous spectacle they viewed, The same with bitter tears they all bedewed.
And every one did make exceeding moan, With inward anguish and great grief opprest; And every one did weep and wail and moan, And means devised to show his sorrow best. That from that hour since first on grassy green, Shepherds kept sheep; was not like mourning seen.
But first his sister that CLORINDA hight, The gentlest shepherdess that lives this day; And most resembling both in shape and sprite, Her brother dear, began this doleful lay. Which lest I mar the sweetness of the verse, In sort as she it sung, I will rehearse.
"Aye me! to whom shall I, my case complain, That may compassion my impatient grief? Or where shall I unfold my inward pain That my enriven heart may find relief? Shall I unto the heavenly powers it show, Or unto earthly men that dwell below?"
"To heavens! Ah, they, alas, the authors were And workers of my unremèdied woe; For they foresee what to us happens here, And they foresaw, yet suffered this be so. From them comes good, from them comes also ill; That which they made, who can them warn to spill?"
"To men! Ah, they, alas, like wretched be And subject to the heaven's ordinance; Bound to abide whatever they decree, Their best redress, is their best sufferance. How then can they, like wretched, comfort me? The which no less, need comforted to be."
"Then to myself, will I my sorrow mourn, Sith none alive like sorrowful remains; And to myself, my plaints shall back return, To pay their usury with doubled pains. The woods, the hills, the rivers shall resound The mournful accent of my sorrow's ground."