The Shepheard's Calender: Twelve Aeglogues Proportionable to the Twelve MonethesSpenser, Edmund
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The Shepheard's Calender: Twelve Aeglogues Proportionable to the Twelve Monethes
Spenser, Edmund
English poetry -- Early modern, 1500-1700
Much like to the mole in Æsop's fable, that, being blind herself, would
in no wise be persuaded that any beast could see. The last, more
shameful than both, that of their own country and natural speech, which
together with their nurse's milk they sucked, they have so base regard
and bastard judgment, that they will not only themselves not labour to
garnish and beautify it, but also repine, that of other it should be
embellished. Like to the dog in the manger, that himself can eat no hay,
and yet barketh at the hungry bullock, that so fain would feed: whose
currish kind, though it cannot be kept from barking, yet I conne them
thank that they refrain from biting.
Now, for the knitting of sentences, which they call the joints and
members thereof, and for all the compass of the speech, it is round
without roughness, and learned without hardness, such indeed as may be
perceived of the least, understood of the most, but judged only of the
learned. For what in most English writers useth to be loose, and as it
were unright, in this Author is well grounded, finely framed, and
strongly trussed up together. In regard whereof, I scorn and spue out
the rakehelly rout of our ragged rhymers (for so themselves use to hunt
the letter) which without learning boast, without judgment jangle,
without reason rage and foam, as if some instinct of poetical spirit had
newly ravished them above the meanness of common capacity. And being, in
the midst of all their bravery, suddenly, either for want of matter, or
rhyme; or having forgotten their former conceit; they seem to be so
pained and travailed in their remembrance, as it were a woman in
childbirth, or as that same Pythia, when the trance came upon her. "_Os
rabidum fera corda domans_," etc.
Nathless, let them a God's name feed on their own folly, so they seek
not to darken the beams of others' glory. As for Colin, under whose
person the Author's self is shadowed, how far he is from such vaunted
titles and glorious shews, both himself sheweth, where he saith:
"Of Muses, Hobbin, I conne no skill."
And,
"Enough is me to paint out my unrest," etc.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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