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diff --git a/17873-0.txt b/17873-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..52a87ef --- /dev/null +++ b/17873-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11651 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Minor Poems of Michael Drayton, by Michael Drayton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Minor Poems of Michael Drayton + +Author: Michael Drayton + +Editor: Cyril Brett + +Release Date: February 27, 2006 [EBook #17873] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MINOR POEMS OF MICHAEL DRAYTON *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + +MINOR POEMS +OF +MICHAEL DRAYTON + + +CHOSEN AND EDITED BY +CYRIL BRETT + + +OXFORD +AT THE CLARENDON PRESS +1907 + + +Henry Frowde, M.A. +Publisher to the University of Oxford +London, Edinburgh, New York +and Toronto + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + +CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE iv + +INTRODUCTION v + +SONNETS (1594) 1 + +SONNETS (1599) 28 + +SONNETS (1602) 42 + +SONNETS (1605) 47 + +SONNETS (1619) 51 + +ODES (1619) 56 + +ODES (1606) 85 + +ELEGIES (1627) 88 + +NIMPHIDIA (1627) 124 + +THE QUEST OF CYNTHIA 144 + +THE SHEPARDS SIRENA 151 + +THE MUSES ELIZIUM (1630) 161 + +SONGS FROM THE SHEPHERD'S GARLAND (1593) 231 + +SONGS FROM THE SHEPHERD'S GARLAND (1605) 240 + +SONGS FROM THE SHEPHERD'S GARLAND (1606) 242 + +APPENDIX 248 + +NOTES 257 + + + + +CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE OF DRAYTON'S LIFE AND WORKS + + +1563 Drayton born at Hartshill, Warwickshire. + +1572? Drayton a page in the house of Sir Henry Goodere, at + Polesworth. + +c. 1574 Anne Goodere born? + +Feb. 1591 Drayton in London. _Harmony of Church_. + +1593 _Idea, the Shepherd's Garland_. _Legend of Peirs Gaveston_. + +1594 _Ideas Mirrour_. _Matilda_. Lucy Harrington becomes Countess + of Bedford. + +1595 Sir Henry Goodere the elder dies. _Endimion and Phoebe_, + dedicated to Lucy Bedford. + +1595-6 Anne Goodere married to Sir Henry Rainsford. + +1596 _Mortimeriados_. _Legends of Robert, Matilda, and Gaveston_. + +1597 _England's Heroical Epistles_. + +1598 Drayton already at work on the _Polyolbion_. + +1599 _Epistles_ and _Idea_ sonnets, new edition. (Date of Portrait + of Drayton in National Portrait Gallery.) + +1600 _Sir John Oldcastle_. + +1602 New edition of _Epistles_ and _Idea_. + +1603 Drayton made an Esquire of the Bath, to Sir Walter Aston. + _To the Maiestie of King James_. _Barons' Wars_. + +1604 _The Owle_. _A Pean Triumphall_. _Moyses in a Map of his + Miracles_. + +1605 First collected edition of _Poems_. Another edition of + _Idea_ and _Epistles_. + +1606 _Poemes Lyrick and Pastorall_. _Odes_. _Eglogs_. + _The Man in the Moone_. + +1607 _Legend of Great Cromwell_. + +1608 Reprint of Collected Poems. + +1609 Another edition of _Cromwell_. + +1610 Reprint of Collected Poems. + +1613 Reprint of Collected Poems. First Part of _Polyolbion_. + +1618 Two _Elegies_ in FitzGeoffrey's _Satyrs and Epigrames_. + +1619 Collected Folio edition of Poems. + +1620 Second edition of _Elegies_, and reprint of 1619 Poems. + +1622 _Polyolbion_ complete. + +1627 _Battle of Agincourt_, _Nymphidia_, &c. + +1630 _Muses Elizium_. _Noah's Floud_. _Moses his Birth and + Miracles_. _David and Goliah_. + +1631 Second edition of 1627 folio. Drayton dies towards the end + of the year. + +1636 Posthumous poem appeared in _Annalia Dubrensia_. + +1637 _Poems_. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Michael Drayton was born in 1563, at Hartshill, near Atherstone, in +Warwickshire, where a cottage, said to have been his, is still shown. He +early became a page to Sir Henry Goodere, at Polesworth Hall: his own +words give the best picture of his early years here.[1] His education +would seem to have been good, but ordinary; and it is very doubtful if +he ever went to a university.[2] Besides the authors mentioned in the +Epistle to Henry Reynolds, he was certainly familiar with Ovid and +Horace, and possibly with Catullus: while there seems no reason to doubt +that he read Greek, though it is quite true that his references to Greek +authors do not prove any first-hand acquaintance. He understood French, +and read Rabelais and the French sonneteers, and he seems to have been +acquainted with Italian.[3] His knowledge of English literature was +wide, and his judgement good: but his chief bent lay towards the +history, legendary and otherwise, of his native country, and his vast +stores of learning on this subject bore fruit in the _Polyolbion_. + +While still at Polesworth, Drayton fell in love with his patron's +younger daughter, Anne;[4] and, though she married, in 1596, Sir Henry +Rainsford of Clifford, Drayton continued his devotion to her for many +years, and also became an intimate friend of her husband's, writing a +sincere elegy on his death.[5] About February, 1591, Drayton paid a +visit to London, and published his first work, the _Harmony of the +Church_, a series of paraphrases from the Old Testament, in +fourteen-syllabled verse of no particular vigour or grace. This book was +immediately suppressed by order of Archbishop Whitgift, possibly because +it was supposed to savour of Puritanism.[6] The author, however, +published another edition in 1610; indeed, he seems to have had a +fondness for this style of work; for in 1604 he published a dull poem, +_Moyses in a Map of his Miracles_, re-issued in 1630 as _Moses his Birth +and Miracles_. Accompanying this piece, in 1630, were two other 'Divine +poems': _Noah's Floud_, and _David and Goliath_. _Noah's Floud_ is, in +part, one of Drayton's happiest attempts at the catalogue style of +bestiary; and Mr. Elton finds in it some foreshadowing of the manner of +_Paradise Lost_. But, as a whole, Drayton's attempts in this direction +deserve the oblivion into which they, in common with the similar +productions of other authors, have fallen. In the dedication and preface +to the _Harmony of the Church_ are some of the few traces of Euphuism +shown in Drayton's work; passages in the _Heroical Epistles_ also occur +to the mind.[7] He was always averse to affectation, literary or +otherwise, and in Elegy viij deliberately condemns Lyly's fantastic +style. + +Probably before Drayton went up to London, Sir Henry Goodere saw that he +would stand in need of a patron more powerful than the master of +Polesworth, and introduced him to the Earl and Countess of Bedford. +Those who believe[8] Drayton to have been a Pope in petty spite, +identify the 'Idea' of his earlier poems with Lucy, Countess of Bedford; +though they are forced to acknowledge as self-evident that the 'Idea' of +his later work is Anne, Lady Rainsford. They then proceed to say that +Drayton, after consistently honouring the Countess in his verse for +twelve years, abruptly transferred his allegiance, not forgetting to +heap foul abuse on his former patroness, out of pique at some temporary +withdrawal of favour. Not only is this directly contrary to all we know +and can infer of Drayton's character, but Mr. Elton has decisively +disproved it by a summary of bibliographical and other evidence. Into +the question it is here unnecessary to enter, and it has been mentioned +only because it alone, of the many Drayton-controversies, has cast any +slur on the poet's reputation. + +In 1593, Drayton published _Idea, the Shepherds Garland_, in nine +Eclogues; in 1606 he added a tenth, the best of all, to the new edition, +and rearranged the order, so that the new eclogue became the ninth. In +these Pastorals, while following the _Shepherds Calendar_ in many ways, +he already displays something of the sturdy independence which +characterized him through life. He abandons Spenser's quasi-rustic +dialect, and, while keeping to most of the pastoral conventions, such as +the singing-match and threnody, he contrives to introduce something of a +more natural and homely strain. He keeps the political allusions, +notably in the Eclogue containing the song in praise of _Beta_, who is, +of course, Queen Elizabeth. But an over-bold remark in the last line of +that song was struck out in 1606; and the new eclogue has no political +reference. He is not ashamed to allude directly to Spenser; and indeed +his direct debts are limited to a few scattered phrases, as in the +_Ballad_ of _Dowsabel_. Almost to the end of his literary career, +Drayton mentions Spenser with reverence and praise.[9] + +It is in the songs interspersed in the Eclogues that Drayton's best work +at this time is to be found: already his metrical versatility is +discernible; for though he doubtless remembered the many varieties of +metre employed by Spenser in the _Calendar_, his verses already bear a +stamp of their own. The long but impetuous lines, such as 'Trim up her +golden tresses with Apollo's sacred tree', afford a striking contrast to +the archaic romance-metre, derived from _Sir Thopas_ and its fellows, +which appears in _Dowsabel_, and it again to the melancholy, murmuring +cadences of the lament for Elphin. It must, however, be confessed that +certain of the songs in the 1593 edition were full of recondite conceits +and laboured antitheses, and were rightly struck out, to be replaced by +lovelier poems, in the edition of 1606. The song to Beta was printed in +_Englands Helicon_, 1600; here, for the first time, appeared the song of +_Dead Love_, and for the only time, _Rowlands Madrigal_. In these songs, +Drayton offends least in grammar, always a weak point with him; in the +body of the Eclogues, in the earlier Sonnets, in the Odes, occur the +most extraordinary and perplexing inversions. Quite the most striking +feature of the Eclogues, especially in their later form, is their bold +attempt at greater realism, at a breaking-away from the conventional +images and scenery. + +Having paid his tribute to one poetic fashion, Drayton in 1594 fell in +with the prevailing craze for sonneteering, and published _Ideas +Mirrour_, a series of fifty-one 'amours' or sonnets, with two prefatory +poems, one by Drayton and one by an unknown, signing himself _Gorbo il +fidele_. The title of these poems Drayton possibly borrowed from the +French sonneteer, de Pontoux: in their style much recollection of +Sidney, Constable, and Daniel is traceable. They are ostensibly +addressed to his mistress, and some of them are genuine in feeling; but +many are merely imitative exercises in conceit; some, apparently, trials +in metre. These amours were again printed, with the title of 'sonnets', +in _1599_[10], 1600, _1602_, 1603, _1605_, 1608, 1610, 1613, _1619_, and +1631, during the poet's lifetime. It is needless here to discuss whether +Drayton were the 'rival poet' to Shakespeare, whether these sonnets were +really addressed to a man, or merely to the ideal Platonic beauty; for +those who are interested in these points, I subjoin references to the +sonnets which touch upon them.[11] From the prentice-work evident in +many of the _Amours_, it would seem that certain of them are among +Drayton's earliest poems; but others show a craftsman not meanly +advanced in his art. Nevertheless, with few exceptions, this first +'bundle of sonnets' consists rather of trials of skill, bubbles of the +mind; most of his sonnets which strike the reader as touched or +penetrated with genuine passion belong to the editions from 1599 +onwards; implying that his love for Anne Goodere, if at all represented +in these poems, grew with his years, for the 'love-parting' is first +found in the edition of 1619. But for us the question should not be, are +these sonnets genuine representations of the personal feeling of the +poet? but rather, how far do they arouse or echo in us as individuals +the universal passion? There are at least some of Drayton's sonnets +which possess a direct, instant, and universal appeal, by reason of +their simple force and straightforward ring; and not in virtue of any +subtle charm of sound and rhythm, or overmastering splendour of diction +or thought. Ornament vanishes, and soberness and simplicity increase, as +we proceed in the editions of the sonnets. Drayton's chief attempt in +the jewelled or ornamental style appeared in 1595, with the title of +_Endimion and Phoebe_, and was, in a sense, an imitation of Marlowe's +_Hero and Leander_. _Hero and Leander_ is, as Swinburne says, a shrine +of Parian marble, illumined from within by a clear flame of passion; +while _Endimion and Phoebe_ is rather a curiously wrought tapestry, such +as that in Mortimer's Tower, woven in splendid and harmonious colours, +wherein, however, the figures attain no clearness or subtlety of +outline, and move in semi-conventional scenery. It is, none the less, +graceful and impressive, and of a like musical fluency with other poems +of its class, such as _Venus and Adonis_, or _Salmacis and +Hermaphrodius_. Parts of it were re-set and spoilt in a 1606 publication +of Drayton's, called _The Man in the Moone_. + +In 1593 and 1594 Drayton also published his earliest pieces on the +mediaeval theme of the 'Falls of the Illustrious'; they were _Peirs +Gavesson_ and _Matilda the faire and chaste daughter of the Lord Robert +Fitzwater_. Here Drayton followed in the track of Boccaccio, Lydgate, +and the _Mirrour for Magistrates_, walking in the way which Chaucer had +derided in his _Monkes Tale_: and with only too great fidelity does +Drayton adapt himself to the dullnesses of his model: fine rhetoric is +not altogether wanting, and there is, of course, the consciousness that +these subjects deal with the history of his beloved country, but neither +these, nor _Robert, Duke of Normandy_ (1596), nor _Great Cromwell, Earl +of Essex_ (1607 and 1609), nor the _Miseries of Margaret_ (1627) can +escape the charge of tediousness.[12] _England's Heroical Epistles_ were +first published in 1597, and other editions, of 1598, 1599, and 1602, +contain new epistles. These are Drayton's first attempt to strike out a +new and original vein of English poetry: they are a series of letters, +modelled on Ovid's _Heroides_,[13] addressed by various pairs of lovers, +famous in English history, to each other, and arranged in chronological +order, from Henry II and Rosamond to Lady Jane Grey and Lord Guilford +Dudley. They are, in a sense, the most important of Drayton's writings, +and they have certainly been the most popular, up to the early +nineteenth century. In these poems Drayton foreshadowed, and probably +inspired, the smooth style of Fairfax, Waller, and Dryden. The metre, +the grammar, and the thought, are all perfectly easy to follow, even +though he employs many of the Ovidian 'turns' and 'clenches'. A certain +attempt at realization of the different characters is observable, but +the poems are fine rhetorical exercises rather than realizations of the +dramatic and passionate possibilities of their themes. In 1596, Drayton, +as we have seen, published the _Mortimeriados_, a kind of epic, with +Mortimer as its hero, of the wars between King Edward II and the +Barons.[14] It was written in the seven-line stanza of Chaucer's +_Troilus and Cressida_ and Spenser's _Hymns_. On its republication in +1603, with the title of the _Barons' Wars_, the metre was changed to +_ottava rima_, and Drayton showed, in an excellent preface, that he +fully appreciated the principles and the subtleties of the metrical art. +While possessing many fine passages, the _Barons' Wars_ is somewhat +dull, lacking much of the poetry of the older version; and does not +escape from Drayton's own criticism of Daniel's Chronicle Poems: 'too +much historian in verse, ... His rhymes were smooth, his metres well did +close, But yet his manner better fitted prose'.[15] The description of +Mortimer's Tower in the sixth book recalls the ornate style of _Endimion +and Phoebe_, while the fifth book, describing the miseries of King +Edward, is the most moving and dramatic. But there is a general +lifelessness and lack of movement for which these purple passages barely +atone. The cause of the production of so many chronicle poems about this +time has been supposed[16] to be the desire of showing the horrors of +civil war, at a time when the queen was growing old, and no successor +had, as it seemed, been accepted. Also they were a kind of parallel to +the Chronicle Play; and Drayton, in any case even if we grant him to +have been influenced by the example of Daniel, never needed much +incentive to treat a national theme. + +About this time, we find Drayton writing for the stage. It seems +unnecessary here to discuss whether the writing of plays is evidence of +Drayton's poverty, or his versatility;[17] but the fact remains that he +had a hand in the production of about twenty. Of these, the only one +which certainly survives is _The first part of the true and honorable +historie, of the life of Sir John Oldcastle, the good Lord Cobham,_ &c. +It is practically impossible to distinguish Drayton's share in this +curious play, and it does not, therefore, materially assist the +elucidation of the question whether he had any dramatic feeling or +skill. It can be safely affirmed that the dramatic instinct was nor +uppermost in his mind; he was a Seneca rather than a Euripides: but to +deny him all dramatic idea, as does Dr. Whitaker, is too severe. There +is decided, if slender, dramatic skill and feeling in certain of the +_Nymphals_. Drayton's persons are usually, it must be said, rather +figures in a tableau, or series of tableaux; but in the second and +seventh _Nymphals_, and occasionally in the tenth, there is real +dramatic movement. Closely connected with this question is the +consideration of humour, which is wrongly denied to Drayton. Humour is +observable first, perhaps, in the _Owle_ (1604); then in the _Ode to his +Rival_ (1619); and later in the _Nymphidia_, _Shepheards Sirena_, and +_Muses Elyzium_. The second _Nymphal_ shows us the quiet laughter, the +humorous twinkle, with which Drayton writes at times. The subject is an +[Greek: agôn] or contest between two shepherds for the affections of a +nymph called Lirope: Lalus is a vale-bred swain, of refined and elegant +manners, skilled, nevertheless, in all manly sports and exercises; +Cleon, no less a master in physical prowess, was nurtured by a hind in +the mountains; the contrast between their manners is admirably +sustained: Cleon is rough, inclined to be rude and scoffing, totally +without tact, even where his mistress is concerned. Lalus remembers her +upbringing and her tastes; he makes no unnecessary or ostentatious +display of wealth; his gifts are simple and charming, while Cleon's are +so grotesquely unsuited to a swain, that it is tempting to suppose that +Drayton was quietly satirizing Marlowe's _Passionate Shepherd_. Lirope +listens gravely to the swains in turn, and makes demure but provoking +answers, raising each to the height of hope, and then casting them both +down into the depths of despair; finally she refuses both, yet without +altogether killing hope. Her first answer is a good specimen of her +banter and of Drayton's humour.[18] + +On the accession of James I, Drayton hastened to greet the King with a +somewhat laboured song _To the Maiestie of King James_; but this poem +was apparently considered to be premature: he cried _Vivat Rex_, without +having said, _Mortua est eheu Regina_, and accordingly he suffered the +penalty of his 'forward pen',[19] and was severely neglected by King and +Court. Throughout James's reign a darker and more satirical mood +possesses Drayton, intruding at times even into his strenuous +recreation-ground, the _Polyolbion_, and manifesting itself more +directly in his satires, the _Owle_ (1604), the _Moon-Calfe_ (1627), the +_Man in the Moone_ (1606), and his verse-letters and elegies; while his +disappointment with the times, the country, and the King, flashes out +occasionally even in the Odes, and is heard in his last publication, the +_Muses Elizium_ (1630). To counterbalance the disappointment in his +hopes from the King, Drayton found a new and life-long friend in Walter +Aston, of Tixall, in Staffordshire; this gentleman was created Knight of +the Bath by James, and made Drayton one of his esquires. By Aston's +'continual bounty' the poet was able to devote himself almost entirely +to more congenial literary work; for, while Meres speaks of the +_Polyolbion_ in 1598,[20] and we may easily see that Drayton had the +idea of that work at least as early as 1594,[21] yet he cannot have been +able to give much time to it till now. Nevertheless, the 'declining and +corrupt times' worked on Drayton's mind and grieved and darkened his +soul, for we must remember that he was perfectly prosperous then and was +not therefore incited to satire by bodily want or distress. + +In 1604 he published the _Owle_, a mild satire, under the form of a +moral fable of government, reminding the reader a little of the +_Parlement of Foules_. _The Man in the Moone_ (1606) is partly a +recension of _Endimion and Phoebe_, but is a heterogeneous mass of +weakly satire, of no particular merit. The _Moon-Calfe_ (1627) is +Drayton's most savage and misanthropic excursion into the region of +Satire; in which, though occasionally nobly ironic, he is more usually +coarse and blustering, in the style of Marston.[22] In 1605 Drayton +brought out his first 'collected poems', from which the _Eclogues_ and +the _Owle_ are omitted; and in 1606 he published his _Poemes Lyrick and +Pastorall_, _Odes_, _Eglogs_, _The Man in the Moone_. Of these the +_Eglogs_ are a recension of the _Shepherd's Garland_ of 1593: we have +already spoken of _The Man in the Moone_. The _Odes_ are by far the most +important and striking feature of the book. In the preface, Drayton +professes to be following Pindar, Anacreon, and Horace, though, as he +modestly implies, at a great distance. Under the title of _Odes_ he +includes a variety of subjects, and a variety of metres; ranging from an +_Ode to his Harp_ or _to his Criticks_, to a _Ballad of Agincourt_, or a +poem on the Rose compared with his Mistress. In the edition of 1619 +appeared several more Odes, including some of the best; while many of +the others underwent careful revision, notably the _Ballad_. 'Sing wee +the Rose,' perhaps because of its unintelligibility, and the Ode to his +friend John Savage, perhaps because too closely imitated from Horace, +were omitted. Drayton was not the first to use the term _Ode_ for a +lyrical poem, in English: Soothern in 1584, and Daniel in 1592 had +preceded him; but he was the first to give the name popularity in +England, and to lift the kind as Ronsard had lifted it in France; and +till the time of Cowper no other English poet showed mastery of the +short, staccato measure of the Anacreontic as distinct from the Pindaric +Ode. In the _Odes_ Drayton shows to the fullest extent his metrical +versatility: he touches the Skeltonic metre, the long ten-syllabled line +of the _Sacrifice to Apollo_; and ascends from the smooth and melodious +rhythms of the _New Year_ through the inspiring harp-tones of the +_Virginian Voyage_ to the clangour and swing of the _Ballad of +Agincourt_. His grammar is possibly more distorted here than anywhere, +but, as Mr. Elton says, 'these are the obstacles of any poet who uses +measures of four or six syllables.' His tone throughout is rather that +of the harp, as played, perhaps, in Polesworth Hall, than that of any +other instrument; but in 1619 Drayton has taken to him the lute of Carew +and his compeers. In 1619 the style is lighter, the fancy gayer, more +exquisite, more recondite. Most of his few metaphysical conceits are to +be found in these later Odes, as in the _Heart_, the _Valentine_, and +the _Crier_. In the comparison of the two editions the nobler, if more +strained, tone of the earlier is obvious; it is still Elizabethan, in +its nobility of ideal and purpose, in its enthusiasm, in its belief and +confidence in England and her men; and this even though we catch a +glimpse of the Jacobean woe in the _Ode to John Savage_: the 1619 Odes +are of a different world; their spirit is lighter, more insouciant in +appearance, though perhaps studiedly so; the rhythms are more fantastic, +with less of strength and firmness, though with more of grace and +superficial beauty; even the very textual alterations, while usually +increasing the grace and the music of the lines, remind the reader that +something of the old spontaneity and freshness is gone. + +In 1607 and 1609, Drayton published two editions of the last and weakest +of his mediaeval poems--the _Legend of Great Cromwell_; and for the next +few years he produced nothing new, only attending to the publication of +certain reprints and new editions. During this time, however, he was +working steadily at the _Polyolbion_, helped by the patronage of Aston +and of Prince Henry. In 1612-13, Drayton burst upon an indifferent world +with the first part of the great poem, containing eighteen songs; the +title-page will give the best idea of the contents and plan of the book: +'Poly-Olbion or a Chorographicall Description of the Tracts, Riuers, +Mountaines, Forests, and other Parts of this renowned Isle of Great +Britaine, With intermixture of the most Remarquable Stories, +Antiquities, Wonders, Rarityes, Pleasures, and Commodities of the same: +Digested in a Poem by Michael Drayton, Esq. With a Table added, for +direction to those occurrences of Story and Antiquities, whereunto the +Course of the Volume easily leades not.' &c. On this work Drayton had +been engaged for nearly the whole of his poetical career. The learning +and research displayed in the poem are extraordinary, almost equalling +the erudition of Selden in his Annotations to each Song. The first part +was, for various reasons, a drug in the market, and Drayton found great +difficulty in securing a publisher for the second part. But during the +years from 1613 to 1622, he became acquainted with Drummond of +Hawthornden through a common friend, Sir William Alexander of Menstry, +afterwards Earl of Stirling. In 1618, Drayton starts a correspondence; +and towards the end of the year mentions that he is corresponding also +with Andro Hart, bookseller, of Edinburgh. The subject of his letter was +probably the publication of the Second Part; which Drayton alludes to in +a letter of 1619 thus: 'I have done twelve books more, that is from the +eighteenth book, which was Kent, if you note it; all the East part and +North to the river Tweed; but it lies by me; for the booksellers and I +are in terms; they are a company of base knaves, whom I both scorn and +kick at.' Finally, in 1622, Drayton got Marriott, Grismand, and Dewe, of +London, to take the work, and it was published with a dedication to +Prince Charles, who, after his brother's death, had given Drayton +patronage. Drayton's preface to the Second Part is well worth quoting: + +'_To any that will read it._ When I first undertook this Poem, or, as +some very skilful in this kind have pleased to term it, this Herculean +labour, I was by some virtuous friends persuaded, that I should receive +much comfort and encouragement therein; and for these reasons; First, +that it was a new, clear, way, never before gone by any; then, that it +contained all the Delicacies, Delights, and Rarities of this renowned +Isle, interwoven with the Histories of the Britons, Saxons, Normans, and +the later English: And further that there is scarcely any of the +Nobility or Gentry of this land, but that he is in some way or other by +his Blood interested therein. But it hath fallen out otherwise; for +instead of that comfort, which my noble friends (from the freedom of +their spirits) proposed as my due, I have met with barbarous ignorance, +and base detraction; such a cloud hath the Devil drawn over the world's +judgment, whose opinion is in few years fallen so far below all +ballatry, that the lethargy is incurable: nay, some of the Stationers, +that had the selling of the First Part of this Poem, because it went not +so fast away in the sale, as some of their beastly and abominable trash, +(a shame both to our language and nation) have either despitefully left +out, or at least carelessly neglected the Epistles to the Readers, and +so have cozened the buyers with unperfected books; which these that have +undertaken the Second Part, have been forced to amend in the First, for +the small number that are yet remaining in their hands. And some of our +outlandish, unnatural, English, (I know not how otherwise to express +them) stick not to say that there is nothing in this Island worth +studying for, and take a great pride to be ignorant in any thing +thereof; for these, since they delight in their folly, I wish it may be +hereditary from them to their posterity, that their children may be +begg'd for fools to the fifth generation, until it may be beyond the +memory of man to know that there was ever other of their families: +neither can this deter me from going on with Scotland, if means and time +do not hinder me, to perform as much as I have promised in my First +Song: + + Till through the sleepy main, to _Thuly_ I have gone, + And seen the Frozen Isles, the cold _Deucalidon_, + Amongst whose iron Rocks, grim _Saturn_ yet remains + Bound in those gloomy caves with adamantine chains. + +And as for those cattle whereof I spake before, _Odi profanum vulgus, et +arceo_, of which I account them, be they never so great, and so I leave +them. To my friends, and the lovers of my labours, I wish all happiness. +_Michael Drayton._' + +The _Polyolbion_ as a whole is easy and pleasant to read; and though in +some parts it savours too much of a mere catalogue, yet it has many +things truly poetical. The best books are perhaps the xiij, xiv, and xv, +where he is on his own ground, and therefore naturally at his best. It +is interesting to notice how much attention and space he devotes to +Wales. He describes not only the 'wonders' but also the fauna and flora +of each district; and of the two it would seem that the flowers +interested him more. Though he was a keen observer of country sights and +sounds (a fact sufficiently attested by the _Nymphidia_ and the +_Nymphals_), it is evident that his interest in most things except +flowers was rather momentary or conventional than continuous and +heart-felt; but of the flowers he loves to talk, whether he weaves us a +garland for the Thame's wedding, or gives us the contents of a maund of +simples; and his love, if somewhat homely and unimaginative, is apparent +enough. But the main inspiration, as it is the main theme, of the +_Polyolbion_ is the glory and might and wealth, past, present, and +future, of England, her possessions and her folk. Through all this +glory, however, we catch the tone of Elizabethan sorrow over the 'Ruines +of Time'; grief that all these mighty men and their works will perish +and be forgotten, unless the poet makes them live for ever on the lips +of men. Drayton's own voluminousness has defeated his purpose, and sunk +his poem by its own bulk. Though it is difficult to go so far as Mr. +Bullen, and say that the only thing better than a stroll in the +_Polyolbion_ is one in a Sussex lane, it is still harder to agree with +Canon Beeching, that 'there are few beauties on the road', the beauties +are many, though of a quietly rural type, and the road, if long and +winding, is of good surface, while its cranks constitute much of its +charm. It is doubtless, from the outside, an appalling poem in these +days of epitomes and monographs, but it certainly deserves to be rescued +from oblivion and read. + +In 1618 Drayton contributed two _Elegies_ to Henry FitzGeoffrey's +_Satyrs and Epigrames_. These were on the Lady Penelope Clifton, and on +'the death of the three sonnes of the Lord Sheffield, drowned neere +where Trent falleth into Humber'. Neither is remarkable save for +far-fetched conceits; they were reprinted in 1610, and again, with many +others, in the volume of 1627. In 1619 Drayton issued a folio collected +edition of his works, and reprinted it in 1620. In 1627 followed a folio +of wholly fresh matter, including the _Battaile of Agincourt_; _the +Miseries of Queene Margarite_, _Nimphidia_, _Quest of Cinthia_, +_Shepheards Sirena_, _Moone-Calfe_, and _Elegies upon sundry occasions_. +The _Battaile of Agincourt_ is a somewhat otiose expansion, with purple +patches, of the _Ballad_; it is, nevertheless, Drayton's best lengthy +piece on a historical theme. Of the _Miseries of Queene Margarite_ and +of the _Moone-Calfe_ we have already spoken. The most notable piece in +the book is the _Nimphidia_. This poem of the Court of Fairy has +'invention, grace, and humour', as Canon Beeching has said. It would be +interesting to know exactly when it was composed and committed to paper, +for it is thought that the three fairy poems in Herrick's _Hesperides_ +were written about 1626. In any case, Drayton's poem touches very +little, and chiefly in the beginning, on the subject of any one of +Herrick's three pieces. The style, execution, and impression left on the +reader are quite different; even as they are totally unlike those of the +_Midsummer Night's Dream_. Herrick's pieces are extraordinary +combinations of the idea of 'King of Shadows', with a reality +fantastically sober: the poems are steeped in moonlight. In Drayton all +is clear day, or the most unromantic of nights; though everything is +charming, there is no attempt at idealization, little of the higher +faculty of imagination; but great realism, and much play of fancy. +Herrick's verses were written by Cobweb and Moth together, Drayton's by +Puck. Granting, however, the initial deficiency in subtlety of charm, +the whole poem is inimitably graceful and piquant. The gay humour, the +demure horror of the witchcraft, the terrible seriousness of the battle, +wonderfully realize the mock-heroic gigantesque; and while there is not +the minute accuracy of Gulliver in Lilliput, Drayton did not write for a +sceptical or too-prying audience; quite half his readers believed more +or less in fairies. In the metre of the poem Drayton again echoes that +of the older romances, as he did in _Dowsabel_. In the _Quest of +Cinthia_, while ostensibly we come to the real world of mortals, we are +really in a non-existent land of pastoral convention, in the most +pseudo-Arcadian atmosphere in which Drayton ever worked. The metre and +the language are, however, charmingly managed. _The Shepheards Sirena_ +is a poem, apparently, 'where more is meant than meets the ear,' as so +often in pastoral poetry[23]; it is difficult to see exactly what is +meant; but the Jacobean strain of doubt and fear is there, and the poem +would seem to have been written some time earlier than 1627. The +_Elegies_ comprise a great variety of styles and themes; some are really +threnodies, some verse-letters, some laments over the evil times, and +one a summary of Drayton's literary opinions. He employs the couplet in +his _Elegies_ with a masterly hand, often with a deliberately rugged +effect, as in his broader Marstonic satire addressed to William Browne; +while the line of greater smoothness but equal strength is to be seen in +the letters to Sandys and Jeffreys. He is fantastic and conceited in +most of the threnodies; but, as is natural, that on his old friend, Sir +Henry Rainsford, is least artificial and fullest of true feeling. The +epistle to _Henery Reynolds. Of Poets and Poesie_ shows Drayton as a +sane and sagacious critic, ready to see the good, but keen to discern +the weakness also; perhaps the clearest evidence of his critical skill +is the way in which nearly all of his judgements on his contemporaries +coincide with the received modern opinions. + +In his later years Drayton enjoyed the patronage of the third Earl and +Countess of Dorset; and in _1630_ he published his last volume, the +_Muses Elizium_, of which he dedicated the pastoral part to the Earl, +and the three divine poems at the end to the Countess. The _Muses +Elizium_ proper consists of Ten Pastorals or Nymphals, prefaced by a +_Description of Elizium_. The three divine poems have been mentioned +before, and were _Noah's Floud_, _Moses his Birth and Miracles_, and +_David and Goliah_. The _Nymphals_ are the crown and summary of much of +the best in Drayton's work. Here he departed from the conventional type +of pastoral, even more than in the _Shepherd's Garland_; but to say that +he sang of English rustic life would hardly be true: the sixth +_Nymphal_, allowing for a few pardonable exaggerations by the +competitors, is almost all English, if we except the names; so is the +tenth with the same exception; the first and fourth might take place +anywhere, but are not likely in any country; the second is more +conventional; the fifth is almost, but not quite, English; the third, +seventh, and ninth are avowedly classical in theme; while the eighth is +a more delicate and subtle fairy poem than the _Nymphidia_. The fourth +and tenth _Nymphals_ are also touched with the sadder, almost satiric +vein; the former inveighing against the English imitation of foreigners +and love of extravagance in dress; while the tenth complains of the +improvident and wasteful felling of trees in the English forests. This +last _Nymphal_, though designedly an epilogue, is probably rather a +warning than a despairing lament, even though we conceive the old satyr +to be Drayton himself. As a whole the _Nymphals_ show Drayton at his +happiest and lightest in style and metre; at his moments of greatest +serenity and even gaiety; an atmosphere of sunshine seems to envelope +them all, though the sun sink behind a cloud in the last. His music now +is that of a rippling stream, whereas in his earlier days he spoke +weightier and more sonorous words, with a mouth of gold.[24] + +To estimate the poetical faculty of Drayton is a somewhat perplexing +task; for, while rarely subtle, or rising to empyrean heights, he wrote +in such varied styles, on such various themes, that the task, at first, +seems that of criticizing many poets, not one. But through all his work +runs the same eminently English spirit, the same honesty and clearness +of idea, the same stolidity of purpose, and not infrequently of +execution also; the same enthusiasm characterizes all his earlier, and +much of his later work; the enthusiasm especially characteristic of +Elizabethan England, and shown by Drayton in his passion for England and +the English, in his triumphant joy in their splendid past, and his +certainty of their future glory. As a poet, he lacked imagination and +fine fury; he supplied their place by the airiest and clearest of +fancies, by the strenuous labour of a great brain illumined by the +steady flame of love for his country and for his lady. Mr. Courthope has +said that he lacked loftiness and resolution of artistic purpose; +without these, we ask, how could a man, not lavishly dowered with poetry +in his soul, have achieved so much of it? It was his very fixity and +loftiness of purpose, his English stubbornness and doggedness of +resolution that enabled him to surmount so many obstacles of style and +metre, of subject and thought. His two purposes, of glorifying his +mistress and his friends, and of sounding England's glories past and +future, while insisting on the dangers of a present decadence, never +flagged or failed. All his poetry up to 1627 has this object directly or +secondarily; and much after this date. Of the more abstract and +universal aspects of his art he had not much conception; but he caught +eagerly at the fashionable belief in the eternizing power of poetry; and +had it not been that, where his patriotism was uppermost, he was +deficient in humour and sense of proportion, he would have succeeded +better: as it is, his more directly patriotic pieces are usually the +dullest or longest of his works. He requires, like all other poets, the +impulse of an absolutely personal and individual feeling, a moment of +more intimate sympathy, to rouse him to his heights of song. Thus the +_Ballad of Agincourt_ is on the very theme of all patriotic themes that +most attracted him; Virginian and other Voyages lay very close to his +heart; and in certain sonnets to his lady lies his only imperishable +work. Of sheer melody and power of song he had little, apart from his +themes: he could not have sat down and written a few lark's or +nightingale's notes about nothing as some of his contemporaries were +able to do: he required the stimulus of a subject, and if he were really +moved thereby he beat the music out. Only in one or two of the later +Odes, and in the volumes of 1627 and 1630, does his music ever seem to +flow from him naturally. Akin to this quality of broad and extensive +workmanship, to this faculty of taking a subject and when writing, with +all thought concentrated on it, rather than on the method of writing +about it, is his strange lack of what are usually called 'quotations'. +For this is not only due to the fact that he is little known; there are, +besides, so few detached remarks or aphorisms that are separately +quotable; so few examples of that _curiosa felicitas_ of diction: lines +like these, + + Thy Bowe, halfe broke, is peec'd with old desire; + Her Bowe is beauty with ten thousand strings.... + +are rare enough. Drayton, in fact, comes as near controverting the +statement _Poeta nascitur, non fit_, as any one in English literature: +by diligent toil and earnest desire he won a place for himself in the +second rank of English poets: through love he once set foot in the +circle of the mightiest. Sincere he was always, simple often, sensuous +rarely. His great industry, his careful study, and his great receptivity +are shown in the unusual spectacle of a man who has sung well in the +language of his youth, suddenly learning, in his age, the tongue spoken +by the younger generation, and reproducing it with individuality and +sureness of touch. It is in rhetoric, splendid or rugged, in argument, +in plain statement or description, in the outline sketch of a picture, +that Drayton excels; magic of atmosphere and colouring are rarely +present. Stolidity is, perhaps, his besetting sin; yet it is the sign of +a slow, not a dull, intellect; an intellect, like his heart, which never +let slip what it had once taken to itself. + +As a man Drayton would seem to have been an excellent type of the +sturdy, clear-headed, but yet romantic and enthusiastic Englishman; +gifted with much natural ability, sedulously increased by study; quietly +humorous, self-restrained; and if temporarily soured by disappointment +and the disjointed times, yet emerging at last into a greater serenity, +a more unadulterated gaiety than had ever before characterized him. It +is possible, but from his clear and sane balance of mind improbable, +that many of his light later poems are due to deliberate self-blinding +and self-deception, a walking in enchanted lands of the mind. + +Of Drayton's three known portraits the earliest shows him at the age of +thirty-six, and is now in the National Portrait Gallery. A look of +quiet, speculative melancholy seems to pervade it; there is, as yet, no +moroseness, no evidence of severe conflict with the world, no shadow of +stress or of doubt. The second and best-known portrait shows us Drayton +at the age of fifty, and was engraved by Hole, as a frontispiece to the +poems of 1619. Here a notable change has come over the face; the mouth +is hardened, and depressed at the corners through disappointment and +disillusionment; the eyes are full of a pathos increased by the puzzled +and perturbed uplift of the brows. Yet a stubbornness and tenacity of +purpose invests the features and reminds us that Drayton is of the old +and sound Elizabethan stock, 'on evil days though fallen.' Let it be +remembered, that he was in 1613, when the portrait was taken, in more or +less prosperous circumstances; it was the sad degeneracy, the meanness +and feebleness of the generation around him, that chiefly depressed and +embittered him. The final portrait, now in the Dulwich Gallery, +represents the poet as a man of sixty-five; and is quite in keeping with +the sunnier and calmer tone of his later poetry. It is the face of one +who has not emerged unscathed from the world's conflict, but has +attained to a certain calm, a measure of tranquillity, a portion of +content, who has learnt the lesson that there is a soul of goodness in +things evil. The Hole portrait shows him with long hair, small 'goatee' +beard, and aquiline nose drawn up at the nostrils: while the National +portrait shows a type of nose and beard intermediate between the Hole +and the Dulwich pictures: the general contour of the face, though the +forehead is broad enough, is long and oval. Drayton seems to have been +tall and thin, and to have been very susceptible of cold, and therefore +to have hated Winter and the North.[25] He is said to have shared in the +supper which caused Shakespeare's death; but his own verses[26] breathe +the spirit of Milton's sonnet to Cyriack Skinner, rather than that of a +devotee of Bacchus. + +He died in 1631, possibly on December 23, and was buried under the North +wall of Westminster Abbey. Meres's[27] opinion of his character during +his early life is as follows: 'As Aulus Persius Flaccus is reported +among al writers to be of an honest life and vpright conuersation: so +Michael Drayton, _quem totics honoris et amoris causa nomino_, among +schollers, souldiours, Poets, and all sorts of people is helde for a man +of uertuous disposition, honest conversation, and well gouerned cariage; +which is almost miraculous among good wits in these declining and +corrupt times, when there is nothing but rogery in villanous man, and +when cheating and craftines is counted the cleanest wit, and soundest +wisedome.'[28] Fuller also, in a similar strain, says, 'He was a pious +poet, his conscience having the command of his fancy, very temperate in +his life, slow of speech, and inoffensive in company.' + +In conclusion I have to thank Mr. H.M. Sanders, of Pembroke College, +Oxford, for help and advice, and Professor Raleigh and Mr. R.W. Chapman +for help and criticism while the volume was in the press. Above all, I +am at every turn indebted to Professor Elton's invaluable _Michael +Drayton_,[29] without which the work of any student of Drayton would be +rendered, if not impossible, at least infinitely harder. + + CYRIL BRETT. +ALTON, STAFFORDSHIRE. + +[Footnote 1: Cf. Elegy viij, _To Henery Reynolds, Esquire_, p. 108.] + +[Footnote 2: Sir Aston Cokayne, in 1658, says that he went to Oxford, +while Fleay asserts, without authority, that his university was probably +Cambridge.] + +[Footnote 3: Cf. the motto of _Ideas Mirrour_, the allusions to +_Ariosto_ in the _Nymphidia_, p. 129; and above all, the _Heroical +Epistles_; Dedic. of _Ep._ of _D._ of _Suffolk to Q. Margaret_: 'Sweet +is the _French_ Tongue, more sweet the _Italian_, but most sweet are +they both, if spoken by your admired self.' Cf. _Surrey to Geraldine_, +ll. 5 sqq., with Drayton's note.] + +[Footnote 4: Cf. Sonnet xij (ed. 1602), p. 42, ''Tis nine years now +since first I lost my wit.' (This sonnet may, of course, occur in the +supposed 1600 ed., which would fix an earlier date for Drayton's +beginning of love.)] + +[Footnote 5: Elegy ix, p. 113.] + +[Footnote 6: Cf. Morley's ed. of _Barons' Wars_, &c. (1887), p. 6.] + +[Footnote 7: Cf. _E.H. Ep._ 'Mat. to K.J.,' 100 sqq., &c.] + +[Footnote 8: Professor Courthope and others. There was some excuse for +blunders before the publication of Professor Elton's book; and they have +been made easier by an unfortunate misprint. Professor Courthope twice +misprints the first line of the Love-Parting Sonnet, as 'Since there's +no help, come let us _rise_ and part', and, so printed, the line +supports better the theory that the poem refers to a patroness and not +to a mistress. Cf. Courthope, _Hist. Eng. Poetry_, iii. pp. 40 and 43.] + +[Footnote 9: Cf. _E. and Phoebe_, sub fin.; _Shep. Sir._ 145-8; _Ep. Hy. +Reyn._ 79 sqq.] + +[Footnote 10: Those reprints which were really new _editions_ are in +italics.] + +[Footnote 11: 1594 ed., Pref. Son. and nos. 12, 18, 28; 1599 ed., nos. +3, 31, 46; 1602 ed., 12, 27, 31; and 1603 ed., 47.] + +[Footnote 12: Meres thought otherwise. Cf. _Palladis Tamia_ (1598), 'As +Accius, M. Atilius, and Milithus were called _Tragediographi_, because +they writ tragedies: so may wee truly terme Michael Drayton +_Tragaediographus_ for his passionate penning the downfals of valiant +Robert of Normandy, chast Matilda, and great Gaueston.' Cf. Barnefield, +_Poems: in diuers humors_ (ed. Arber, p. 119), 'And Drayton, whose +wel-written Tragedies, | And Sweete Epistles, soare thy fame to skies. | +Thy learned name is equall with the rest; | Whose stately Numbers are so +well addrest.'] + +[Footnote 13: Cf. Meres, _Palladis Tamia_ (1598), 'Michael Drayton doth +imitate Ouid in his _England's Heroical Epistles_.'] + +[Footnote 14: Cf. id., _ibid._, 'As Lucan hath mournefully depainted the +ciuil wars of Pompey and Cæsar: so hath Daniel the ciuill wars of Yorke +and Lancaster, and Drayton the civill wars of Edward the second and the +Barons.'] + +[Footnote 15: Cf. Elegy viij. 126-8.] + +[Footnote 16: Cf. Morley's ed., _Barons' Wars_, &c., 1887, pp. 6-7.] + +[Footnote 17: Cf. Elron, pp. 83-93, and Whitaker, _M. Drayton as a +Dramatist_ (Public. Mod. Lang. Assoc. of America, vol. xviij. 3).] + +[Footnote 18: Cf. _Nl._ ij. 127 sqq., p. 172.] + +[Footnote 19: Cf. Elegy ij. 20.] + +[Footnote 20: Cf. _Palladis Tamia_: 'Michael Drayton is now in penning, +in English verse, a Poem called _Poly-olbion_, Geographicall & +Hydrographicall of all the forests, woods, mountaines, fountaines, +riuers, lakes, flouds, bathes, & springs that be in England.'] + +[Footnote 21: Cf. _Amours_ (1594), xx and xxiv.] + +[Footnote 22: Cf. Sonnet vj (1619 edition); which is a dignified summary +of much that he says more coarsely in the _Moone-Calfe_.] + +[Footnote 23: Cf. Morley's ed. _Barons' Wars, &c._, p. 8.] + +[Footnote 24: Charles FitzGeoffrey, _Drake_ (1596), 'golden-mouthed +Drayton musical.' Guilpin, _Skialetheia_ (1598), 'Drayton's condemned of +some for imitation, But others say, 'tis the best poet's fashion ... +Drayton's justly surnam'd golden-mouth'd.' Meres, _Palladis Tamia_ +(1598),' In Charles Fitz-Jefferies _Drake_ Drayton is termed +"golden-mouth'd" for the purity and pretiousnesse of his stile and +phrase.'] + +[Footnote 25: Cf. _E. H. E._, pp. 90, 99 (ed. 1737); Elegy i; and _Ode +written in the Peak_.] + +[Footnote 26: Elegy viij, ad init.] + +[Footnote 27: _Palladis Tamia_ (1598).] + +[Footnote 28: Cf. _Returne from Parnassus_, i. 2 (1600) ed. Arb. p. 11.] + +[Footnote 29: _Michael Drayton. A Critical Study_. Oliver Elton, M.A. +London: A. Constable & Co., 1905.] + + + + +SONNETS + +[from the Edition of 1594] + +To the deere Chyld of the Muses, and + _his euer kind_ Mecænas, _Ma._ Anthony + Cooke, Esquire + + + Vovchsafe to grace these rude vnpolish'd rymes, + Which long (dear friend) haue slept in sable night, + And, come abroad now in these glorious tymes, + Can hardly brook the purenes of the light. + But still you see their desteny is such, + That in the world theyr fortune they must try, + Perhaps they better shall abide the tuch, + Wearing your name, theyr gracious liuery. + Yet these mine owne: I wrong not other men, + Nor trafique further then thys happy Clyme, + Nor filch from _Portes_, nor from _Petrarchs_ pen, + A fault too common in this latter time. + Diuine Syr Phillip, I auouch thy writ, + I am no Pickpurse of anothers wit. + Yours deuoted, + M. DRAYTON. + + +Amour 1 + + Reade heere (sweet Mayd) the story of my wo, + The drery abstracts of my endles cares, + With my liues sorow enterlyned so; + Smok'd with my sighes, and blotted with my teares: + The sad memorials of my miseries, + Pend in the griefe of myne afflicted ghost; + My liues complaint in doleful Elegies, + With so pure loue as tyme could neuer boast. + Receaue the incense which I offer heere, + By my strong fayth ascending to thy fame, + My zeale, my hope, my vowes, my praise, my prayer, + My soules oblation to thy sacred name: + Which name my Muse to highest heauen shal raise + By chast desire, true loue, and vertues praise. + + +Amour 2 + + My fayre, if thou wilt register my loue, + More then worlds volumes shall thereof arise; + Preserue my teares, and thou thy selfe shall proue + A second flood downe rayning from mine eyes. + Note but my sighes, and thine eyes shal behold + The Sun-beames smothered with immortall smoke; + And if by thee, my prayers may be enrold, + They heauen and earth to pitty shall prouoke. + Looke thou into my breast, and thou shall see + Chaste holy vowes for my soules sacrifice: + That soule (sweet Maide) which so hath honoured thee, + Erecting Trophies to thy sacred eyes; + Those eyes to my heart shining euer bright, + When darknes hath obscur'd each other light. + + +Amour 3 + + My thoughts bred vp with Eagle-birds of loue, + And, for their vertues I desiered to know, + Vpon the nest I set them forth, to proue + If they were of the Eagles kinde or no: + But they no sooner saw my Sunne appeare, + But on her rayes with gazing eyes they stood; + Which proou'd my birds delighted in the ayre, + And that they came of this rare kinglie brood. + But now their plumes, full sumd with sweet desire, + To shew their kinde began to clime the skies: + Doe what I could my Eaglets would aspire, + Straight mounting vp to thy celestiall eyes. + And thus (my faire) my thoughts away be flowne, + And from my breast into thine eyes be gone. + + +Amour 4 + + My faire, had I not erst adorned my Lute + With those sweet strings stolne from thy golden hayre, + Vnto the world had all my ioyes been mute, + Nor had I learn'd to descant on my faire. + Had not mine eye seene thy Celestiall eye, + Nor my hart knowne the power of thy name, + My soule had ne'er felt thy Diuinitie, + Nor my Muse been the trumpet of thy fame. + But thy diuine perfections, by their skill, + This miracle on my poore Muse haue tried, + And, by inspiring, glorifide my quill, + And in my verse thy selfe art deified: + Thus from thy selfe the cause is thus deriued, + That by thy fame all fame shall be suruiued. + + +Amour 5 + + Since holy Vestall lawes haue been neglected, + The Gods pure fire hath been extinguisht quite; + No Virgin once attending on that light, + Nor yet those heauenly secrets once respected; + Till thou alone, to pay the heauens their dutie + Within the Temple of thy sacred name, + With thine eyes kindling that Celestiall flame, + By those reflecting Sun-beames of thy beautie. + Here Chastity that Vestall most diuine, + Attends that Lampe with eye which neuer sleepeth; + The volumes of Religions lawes shee keepeth, + Making thy breast that sacred reliques shryne, + Where blessed Angels, singing day and night, + Praise him which made that fire, which lends that light. + + +Amour 6 + + In one whole world is but one Phoenix found, + A Phoenix thou, this Phoenix then alone: + By thy rare plume thy kind is easly knowne, + With heauenly colours dide, with natures wonder cround. + Heape thine own vertues, seasoned by their sunne, + On heauenly top of thy diuine desire; + Then with thy beautie set the same on fire, + So by thy death thy life shall be begunne. + Thy selfe, thus burned in this sacred flame, + With thine owne sweetnes al the heauens perfuming, + And stil increasing as thou art consuming, + Shalt spring againe from th' ashes of thy fame; + And mounting vp shall to the heauens ascend: + So maist thou liue, past world, past fame, past end. + + +Amour 7 + + Stay, stay, sweet Time; behold, or ere thou passe + From world to world, thou long hast sought to see, + That wonder now wherein all wonders be, + Where heauen beholds her in a mortall glasse. + Nay, looke thee, Time, in this Celesteall glasse, + And thy youth past in this faire mirror see: + Behold worlds Beautie in her infancie, + What shee was then, and thou, or ere shee was. + Now passe on, Time: to after-worlds tell this, + Tell truelie, Time, what in thy time hath beene, + That they may tel more worlds what Time hath seene, + And heauen may ioy to think on past worlds blisse. + Heere make a Period, Time, and saie for mee, + She was the like that neuer was, nor neuer more shalbe. + + +Amour 8 + + Vnto the World, to Learning, and to Heauen, + Three nines there are, to euerie one a nine; + One number of the earth, the other both diuine, + One wonder woman now makes three od numbers euen. + Nine orders, first, of Angels be in heauen; + Nine Muses doe with learning still frequent: + These with the Gods are euer resident. + Nine worthy men vnto the world were giuen. + My Worthie one to these nine Worthies addeth, + And my faire Muse one Muse vnto the nine; + And my good Angell, in my soule diuine, + With one more order these nine orders gladdeth. + My Muse, my Worthy, and my Angell, then, + Makes euery one of these three nines a ten. + + +Amour 9 + + Beauty sometime, in all her glory crowned, + Passing by that cleere fountain of thine eye, + Her sun-shine face there chaunsing to espy, + Forgot herselfe, and thought she had been drowned. + And thus, whilst Beautie on her beauty gazed, + Who then, yet liuing, deemd she had been dying, + And yet in death some hope of life espying, + At her owne rare perfections so amazed; + Twixt ioy and griefe, yet with a smyling frowning, + The glorious sun-beames of her eyes bright shining, + And shee, in her owne destiny diuining, + Threw in herselfe, to saue herselfe by drowning; + The Well of Nectar, pau'd with pearle and gold, + Where shee remaines for all eyes to behold. + + +Amour 10 + + Oft taking pen in hand, with words to cast my woes, + Beginning to account the sum of all my cares, + I well perceiue my griefe innumerable growes, + And still in reckonings rise more millions of dispayres. + And thus, deuiding of my fatall howres, + The payments of my loue I read, and reading crosse, + And in substracting set my sweets vnto my sowres; + Th' average of my ioyes directs me to my losse. + And thus mine eyes, a debtor to thine eye, + Who by extortion gaineth all theyr lookes, + My hart hath payd such grieuous vsury, + That all her wealth lyes in thy Beauties bookes; + And all is thine which hath been due to mee, + And I a Banckrupt, quite vndone by thee. + + +Amour 11 + + Thine eyes taught mee the Alphabet of loue, + To con my Cros-rowe ere I learn'd to spell; + For I was apt, a scholler like to proue, + Gaue mee sweet lookes when as I learned well. + Vowes were my vowels, when I then begun + At my first Lesson in thy sacred name: + My consonants the next when I had done, + Words consonant, and sounding to thy fame. + My liquids then were liquid christall teares, + My cares my mutes, so mute to craue reliefe; + My dolefull Dypthongs were my liues dispaires, + Redoubling sighes the accents of my griefe: + My loues Schoole-mistris now hath taught me so, + That I can read a story of my woe. + + +Amour 12 + + Some Atheist or vile Infidell in loue, + When I doe speake of thy diuinitie, + May blaspheme thus, and say I flatter thee, + And onely write my skill in verse to proue. + See myracles, ye vnbeleeuing! see + A dumbe-born Muse made to expresse the mind, + A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, + One by thy name, the other touching thee. + Blind were mine eyes, till they were seene of thine, + And mine eares deafe by thy fame healed be; + My vices cur'd by vertues sprung from thee, + My hopes reuiu'd, which long in graue had lyne: + All vncleane thoughts, foule spirits, cast out in mee + By thy great power, and by strong fayth in thee. + + +Amour 13 + + Cleere _Ankor_, on whose siluer-sanded shore + My soule-shrinde Saint, my faire _Idea_, lyes; + O blessed Brooke! whose milk-white Swans adore + The christall streame refined by her eyes: + Where sweet Myrh-breathing _Zephyre_ in the spring + Gently distils his Nectar-dropping showers; + Where Nightingales in _Arden_ sit and sing + Amongst those dainty dew-empearled flowers. + Say thus, fayre Brooke, when thou shall see thy Queene: + Loe! heere thy Shepheard spent his wandring yeeres, + And in these shades (deer Nimphe) he oft hath been, + And heere to thee he sacrifiz'd his teares. + Fayre _Arden_, thou my _Tempe_ art alone, + And thou, sweet _Ankor_, art my _Helicon_. + + +Amour 14 + + Looking into the glasse of my youths miseries, + I see the ugly face of my deformed cares, + With withered browes, all wrinckled with dispaires, + That for my mis-spent youth the tears fel from my eyes. + Then, in these teares, the mirror of these eyes, + Thy fayrest youth and Beautie doe I see + Imprinted in my teares by looking still on thee: + Thus midst a thousand woes ten thousand joyes arise. + Yet in those joyes, the shadowes of my good, + In this fayre limned ground as white as snow, + Paynted the blackest Image of my woe, + With murthering hands imbru'd in mine own blood: + And in this Image his darke clowdy eyes, + My life, my youth, my loue, I heere Anotamize. + + +Amour 15 + + Now, Loue, if thou wilt proue a Conqueror, + Subdue thys Tyrant euer martyring mee; + And but appoint me for her Tormentor, + Then for a Monarch will I honour thee. + My hart shall be the prison for my fayre; + Ile fetter her in chaines of purest loue, + My sighs shall stop the passage of the ayre: + This punishment the pittilesse may moue. + With teares out of the Channels of mine eyes + She'st quench her thirst as duly as they fall: + Kinde words vnkindest meate I can deuise, + My sweet, my faire, my good, my best of all. + Ile binde her then with my torne-tressed haire, + And racke her with a thousand holy wishes; + Then, on a place prepared for her there, + Ile execute her with a thousand kisses. + Thus will I crucifie, my cruell shee; + Thus Ile plague her which hath so plagued mee. + + +Amour 16 + + Vertues _Idea_ in virginitie, + By inspiration, came conceau'd with thought: + The time is come deliuered she must be, + Where first my loue into the world was brought. + Vnhappy borne, of all vnhappy day! + So luckles was my Babes nativity, + _Saturne_ chiefe Lord of the Ascendant lay, + The wandring Moone in earths triplicitie. + Now, or by chaunce or heauens hie prouidence, + His Mother died, and by her Legacie + (Fearing the stars presaging influence) + Bequeath'd his wardship to my soueraignes eye; + Where hunger-staruen, wanting lookes to liue, + Still empty gorg'd, with cares consumption pynde, + Salt luke-warm teares shee for his drink did giue, + And euer-more with sighes he supt and dynde: + And thus (poore Orphan) lying in distresse + Cryes in his pangs, God helpe the motherlesse. + + +Amour 17 + + If euer wonder could report a wonder, + Or tongue of wonder worth could tell a wonder thought, + Or euer ioy expresse what perfect ioy hath taught, + Then wonder, tongue, then ioy, might wel report a wonder. + Could all conceite conclude, which past conceit admireth, + Or could mine eye but ayme her obiects past perfection, + My words might imitate my deerest thoughts direction, + And my soule then obtaine which so my soule desireth. + Were not Inuention stauld, treading Inuentions maze, + Or my swift-winged Muse tyred by too hie flying; + Did not perfection still on her perfection gaze, + Whilst Loue (my Phoenix bird) in her owne flame is dying, + Inuention and my Muse, perfection and her loue, + Should teach the world to know the wonder that I proue. + + +Amour 18 + + Some, when in ryme they of their Loues doe tell, + With flames and lightning their exordiums paynt: + Some inuocate the Gods, some spirits of Hell, + And heauen, and earth doe with their woes acquaint. + _Elizia_ is too hie a seate for mee: + I wyll not come in _Stixe_ or _Phlegiton_; + The Muses nice, the Furies cruell be, + I lyke not _Limbo_, nor blacke _Acheron_, + Spightful _Erinnis_ frights mee with her lookes, + My manhood dares not with foule _Ate_ mell: + I quake to looke on _Hecats_ charming bookes, + I styll feare bugbeares in _Apollos_ cell. + I passe not for _Minerua_ nor _Astræa_. + But euer call vpon diuine _Idea_. + + +Amour 19 + + If those ten Regions, registred by Fame, + By theyr ten Sibils haue the world controld, + Who prophecied of Christ or ere he came, + And of his blessed birth before fore-told; + That man-god now, of whom they did diuine, + This earth of those sweet Prophets hath bereft, + And since the world to iudgement doth declyne, + Instead of ten, one Sibil to vs left. + Thys pure _Idea_, vertues right Idea, + Shee of whom _Merlin_ long tyme did fore-tell, + Excelling her of _Delphos_ or _Cumæa_, + Whose lyfe doth saue a thousand soules from hell: + That life (I meane) which doth Religion teach, + And by example true repentance preach. + + +Amour 20 + + Reading sometyme, my sorrowes to beguile, + I find old Poets hylls and floods admire: + One, he doth wonder monster-breeding _Nyle_, + Another meruailes Sulphure _Aetnas_ fire. + Now broad-brymd _Indus_, then of _Pindus_ height, + _Pelion_ and _Ossa_, frosty _Caucase_ old, + The Delian _Cynthus_, then _Olympus_ weight, + Slow _Arrer_, franticke _Gallus_, _Cydnus_ cold. + Some _Ganges_, _Ister_, and of _Tagus_ tell, + Some whir-poole _Po_, and slyding _Hypasis_; + Some old _Pernassus_ where the Muses dwell, + Some _Helycon_, and some faire _Simois_: + A, fooles! thinke I, had you _Idea_ seene, + Poore Brookes and Banks had no such wonders beene. + + +Amour 21 + + Letters and lynes, we see, are soone defaced, + Mettles doe waste and fret with cankers rust; + The Diamond shall once consume to dust, + And freshest colours with foule staines disgraced. + Paper and yncke can paynt but naked words, + To write with blood of force offends the sight, + And if with teares, I find them all too light; + And sighes and signes a silly hope affoords. + O, sweetest shadow! how thou seru'st my turne, + Which still shalt be as long as there is Sunne, + Nor whilst the world is neuer shall be done, + Whilst Moone shall shyne by night, or any fire shall burne: + That euery thing whence shadow doth proceede, + May in his shadow my Loues story reade. + + +Amour 22 + + My hart, imprisoned in a hopeless Ile, + Peopled with Armies of pale iealous eyes, + The shores beset with thousand secret spyes, + Must passe by ayre, or else dye in exile. + He framd him wings with feathers of his thought, + Which by theyr nature learn'd to mount the skye; + And with the same he practised to flye, + Till he himself thys Eagles art had taught. + Thus soring still, not looking once below, + So neere thyne eyes celesteall sunne aspyred, + That with the rayes his wafting pyneons fired: + Thus was the wanton cause of his owne woe. + Downe fell he, in thy Beauties Ocean drenched, + Yet there he burnes in fire thats neuer quenched. + + +Amour 23 + + Wonder of Heauen, glasse of diuinitie, + Rare beautie, Natures joy, perfections Mother, + The worke of that vnited Trinitie, + Wherein each fayrest part excelleth other! + Loues Mithridate, the purest of perfection, + Celestiall Image, Load-stone of desire, + The soules delight, the sences true direction, + Sunne of the world, thou hart reuyuing fire! + Why should'st thou place thy Trophies in those eyes, + Which scorne the honor that is done to thee, + Or make my pen her name immortalize, + Who in her pride sdaynes once to look on me? + It is thy heauen within her face to dwell, + And in thy heauen, there onely, is my hell. + + +Amour 24 + + Our floods-Queene, _Thames_, for shyps and Swans is crowned, + And stately _Seuerne_ for her shores is praised, + The christall _Trent_ for Foords and fishe renowned, + And _Auons_ fame to _Albyons_ Cliues is raysed. + _Carlegion Chester_ vaunts her holy _Dee_, + _Yorke_ many wonders of her _Ouse_ can tell, + The _Peake_ her _Doue_, whose bancks so fertill bee, + And _Kent_ will say her _Medway_ doth excell. + Cotswoold commends her _Isis_ and her _Tame_, + Our Northern borders boast of _Tweeds_ faire flood; + Our Westerne parts extoll theyr Wilys fame, + And old _Legea_ brags of _Danish_ blood: + _Ardens_ sweet _Ankor_, let thy glory be + That fayre _Idea_ shee doth liue by thee. + + +Amour 25 + + The glorious sunne went blushing to his bed, + When my soules sunne, from her fayre Cabynet, + Her golden beames had now discouered, + Lightning the world, eclipsed by his set. + Some muz'd to see the earth enuy the ayre, + Which from her lyps exhald refined sweet, + A world to see, yet how he ioyd to heare + The dainty grasse make musicke with her feete. + But my most meruaile was when from the skyes, + So Comet-like, each starre aduanc'd her lyght, + As though the heauen had now awak'd her eyes, + And summond Angels to this blessed sight. + No clowde was seene, but christalline the ayre, + Laughing for ioy upon my louely fayre. + + +Amour 26 + + Cupid, dumbe-Idoll, peeuish Saint of loue, + No more shalt thou nor Saint nor Idoll be; + No God art thou, a Goddesse shee doth proue, + Of all thine honour shee hath robbed thee. + Thy Bowe, halfe broke, is peec'd with old desire; + Her Bowe is beauty with ten thousand strings + Of purest gold, tempred with vertues fire, + The least able to kyll an hoste of Kings. + Thy shafts be spent, and shee (to warre appointed) + Hydes in those christall quiuers of her eyes + More Arrowes, with hart-piercing mettel poynted, + Then there be starres at midnight in the skyes. + With these she steales mens harts for her reliefe, + Yet happy he thats robd of such a thiefe! + + +Amour 27 + + My Loue makes hote the fire whose heat is spent, + The water moisture from my teares deriueth, + And my strong sighes the ayres weake force reuiueth: + Thus loue, tears, sighes, maintaine each one his element. + The fire, vnto my loue, compare a painted fire, + The water, to my teares as drops to Oceans be, + The ayre, vnto my sighes as Eagle to the flie, + The passions of dispaire but ioyes to my desire. + Onely my loue is in the fire ingraued, + Onely my teares by Oceans may be gessed, + Onely my sighes are by the ayre expressed; + Yet fire, water, ayre, of nature not depriued. + Whilst fire, water, ayre, twixt heauen and earth shal be, + My loue, my teares, my sighes, extinguisht cannot be. + + +Amour 28 + + Some wits there be which lyke my method well, + And say my verse runnes in a lofty vayne; + Some say, I haue a passing pleasing straine, + Some say that in my humour I excell. + Some who reach not the height of my conceite, + They say, (as Poets doe) I vse to fayne, + And in bare words paynt out my passions payne: + Thus sundry men their sundry minds repeate. + I passe not I how men affected be, + Nor who commend, or discommend my verse; + It pleaseth me if I my plaints rehearse, + And in my lynes if shee my loue may see. + I proue my verse autentique still in thys, + Who writes my Mistres praise can neuer write amisse. + + +Amour 29 + + O eyes! behold your happy _Hesperus_, + That luckie Load-starre of eternall light, + Left as that sunne alone to comfort vs, + When our worlds sunne is vanisht out of sight. + O starre of starres! fayre Planet mildly moouing, + O Lampe of vertue! sun-bright, euer shyning, + O mine eyes Comet! so admyr'd by louing, + O cleerest day-starre! neuer more declyning. + O our worlds wonder! crowne of heauen aboue, + Thrice happy be those eyes which may behold thee! + Lou'd more then life, yet onely art his loue + Whose glorious hand immortal hath enrold thee! + O blessed fayre! now vaile those heauenly eyes, + That I may blesse mee at thy sweet arise. + + +Amour 30 + + Three sorts of serpents doe resemble thee; + That daungerous eye-killing Cockatrice, + Th' inchaunting Syren, which doth so entice, + The weeping Crocodile; these vile pernicious three. + The Basiliske his nature takes from thee, + Who for my life in secret wait do'st lye, + And to my heart send'st poyson from thine eye: + Thus do I feele the paine, the cause yet cannot see. + Faire-mayd no more, but Mayr-maid be thy name, + Who with thy sweet aluring harmony + Hast playd the thiefe, and stolne my hart from me, + And, like a Tyrant, mak'st my griefe thy game. + The Crocodile, who, when thou hast me slaine, + Lament'st my death with teares of thy disdaine. + + +Amour 31 + + Sitting alone, loue bids me goe and write; + Reason plucks backe, commaunding me to stay, + Boasting that shee doth still direct the way, + Els senceles loue could neuer once indite. + Loue, growing angry, vexed at the spleene, + And scorning Reasons maymed Argument, + Straight taxeth Reason, wanting to invent + Where shee with Loue conuersing hath not beene. + Reason, reproched with this coy disdaine, + Dispighteth Loue, and laugheth at her folly, + And Loue, contemning Reasons reason wholy, + Thought her in weight too light by many a graine. + Reason, put back, doth out of sight remoue, + And Loue alone finds reason in my loue. + + +Amour 32 + + Those teares, which quench my hope, still kindle my desire, + Those sighes, which coole my hart, are coles vnto my loue, + Disdayne, Ice to my life, is to my soule a fire: + With teares, sighes, and disdaine, this contrary I proue. + Quenchles desire makes hope burne, dryes my teares, + Loue heats my hart, my hart-heat my sighes warmeth; + With my soules fire my life disdaine out-weares, + Desire, my loue, my soule, my hope, hart, and life charmeth. + My hope becomes a friend to my desire, + My hart imbraceth Loue, Loue doth imbrace my hart; + My life a Phoenix is in my soules fire, + From thence (they vow) they neuer will depart. + Desire, my loue, my soule, my hope, my hart, my life, + With teares, sighes, and disdaine, shall haue immortal strife. + + +Amour 33 + + Whilst thus mine eyes doe surfet with delight, + My wofull hart, imprisond in my breast, + Wishing to be trans-formd into my sight, + To looke on her by whom mine eyes are blest; + But whilst mine eyes thus greedily doe gaze, + Behold! their obiects ouer-soone depart, + And treading in this neuer-ending maze, + Wish now to be trans-formd into my hart: + My hart, surcharg'd with thoughts, sighes in abundance raise, + My eyes, made dim with lookes, poure down a flood of tears; + And whilst my hart and eye enuy each others praise, + My dying lookes and thoughts are peiz'd in equall feares: + And thus, whilst sighes and teares together doe contende, + Each one of these doth ayde vnto the other lende. + + +Amour 34 + + My fayre, looke from those turrets of thine eyes, + Into the Ocean of a troubled minde, + Where my poor soule, the Barke of sorrow, lyes, + Left to the mercy of the waues and winde. + See where she flotes, laden with purest loue, + Which those fayre Ilands of thy lookes affoord, + Desiring yet a thousand deaths to proue, + Then so to cast her Ballase ouerboard. + See how her sayles be rent, her tacklings worne, + Her Cable broke, her surest Anchor lost: + Her Marryners doe leaue her all forlorne, + Yet how shee bends towards that blessed Coast! + Loe! where she drownes in stormes of thy displeasure, + Whose worthy prize should haue enricht thy treasure. + + +Amour 35 + + See, chaste _Diana_, where my harmles hart, + Rouz'd from my breast, his sure and safest layre, + Nor chaste by hound, nor forc'd by Hunters arte, + Yet see how right he comes vnto my fayre. + See how my Deere comes to thy Beauties stand, + And there stands gazing on those darting eyes, + Whilst from theyr rayes, by _Cupids_ skilfull hand, + Into his hart the piercing Arrow flyes. + See how he lookes vpon his bleeding wound, + Whilst thus he panteth for his latest breath, + And, looking on thee, falls vpon the ground, + Smyling, as though he gloried in his death. + And wallowing in his blood, some lyfe yet laft; + His stone-cold lips doth kisse the blessed shaft. + + +Amour 36 + + Sweete, sleepe so arm'd with Beauties arrowes darting, + Sleepe in thy Beauty, Beauty in sleepe appeareth; + Sleepe lightning Beauty, Beauty sleepes, darknes cleereth, + Sleepes wonder Beauty, wonders to worlds imparting. + Sleep watching Beauty, Beauty waking, sleepe guarding + Beauty in sleepe, sleepe in Beauty charmed, + Sleepes aged coldnes with Beauties fire warmed, + Sleepe with delight, Beauty with loue rewarding. + Sleepe and Beauty, with equall forces stryuing, + Beauty her strength vnto sleepes weaknes lending, + Sleepe with Beauty, Beauty with sleepe contending, + Yet others force the others force reuiuing, + And others foe the others foe imbrace. + Myne eyes beheld thys conflict in thy face. + + +Amour 37 + + I euer loue where neuer hope appeares, + Yet hope drawes on my neuer-hoping care, + And my liues hope would die but for dyspaire; + My neuer certaine ioy breeds euer-certaine feares. + Vncertaine dread gyues wings vnto my hope, + Yet my hopes wings are loden so with feare, + As they cannot ascend to my hopes spheare, + Yet feare gyues them more then a heauenly scope. + Yet this large roome is bounded with dyspaire, + So my loue is still fettered with vaine hope, + And lyberty depriues him of hys scope, + And thus am I imprisond in the ayre: + Then, sweet Dispaire, awhile hold vp thy head, + Or all my hope for sorrow will be dead. + + +Amour 38 + + If chaste and pure deuotion of my youth, + Or glorie of my Aprill-springing yeeres, + Vnfained loue in naked simple truth, + A thousand vowes, a thousand sighes and teares; + Or if a world of faithful seruice done, + Words, thoughts, and deeds deuoted to her honor, + Or eyes that haue beheld her as theyr sunne, + With admiration euer looking on her: + A lyfe that neuer ioyd but in her loue, + A soule that euer hath ador'd her name, + A fayth that time nor fortune could not moue, + A Muse that vnto heauen hath raised her fame. + Though these, nor these deserue to be imbraced, + Yet, faire vnkinde, too good to be disgraced. + + +Amour 39 + + Die, die, my soule, and neuer taste of ioy, + If sighes, nor teares, nor vowes, nor prayers can moue; + If fayth and zeale be but esteemd a toy, + And kindnes be vnkindnes in my loue. + Then, with vnkindnes, Loue, reuenge thy wrong: + O sweet'st reuenge that ere the heauens gaue! + And with the swan record thy dying song, + And praise her still to thy vntimely graue. + So in loues death shall loues perfection proue + That loue diuine which I haue borne to you, + By doome concealed to the heauens aboue, + That yet the world vnworthy neuer knew; + Whose pure _Idea_ neuer tongue exprest: + I feele, you know, the heauens can tell the rest. + + +Amour 40 + + O thou vnkindest fayre! most fayrest shee, + In thine eyes tryumph murthering my poore hart, + Now doe I sweare by heauens, before we part, + My halfe-slaine hart shall take reuenge on thee. + Thy mother dyd her lyfe to death resigne, + And thou an Angell art, and from aboue; + Thy father was a man, that will I proue, + Yet thou a Goddesse art, and so diuine. + And thus, if thou be not of humaine kinde, + A Bastard on both sides needes must thou be; + Our Lawes allow no land to basterdy: + By natures Lawes we thee a bastard finde. + Then hence to heauen, vnkind, for thy childs part: + Goe bastard goe, for sure of thence thou art. + + +Amour 41 + + Rare of-spring of my thoughts, my dearest Loue, + Begot by fancy on sweet hope exhortiue, + In whom all purenes with perfection stroue, + Hurt in the Embryon makes my ioyes abhortiue. + And you, my sighes, Symtomas of my woe, + The dolefull Anthems of my endelesse care, + Lyke idle Ecchoes euer answering; so, + The mournfull accents of my loues dispayre. + And thou, Conceite, the shadow of my blisse, + Declyning with the setting of my sunne, + Springing with that, and fading straight with this, + Now hast thou end, and now thou wast begun: + Now was thy pryme, and loe! is now thy waine; + Now wast thou borne, now in thy cradle slayne. + + +Amour 42 + + Plac'd in the forlorne hope of all dispayre + Against the Forte where Beauties Army lies, + Assayld with death, yet armed with gastly feare, + Loe! thus my loue, my lyfe, my fortune tryes. + Wounded with Arrowes from thy lightning eyes, + My tongue in payne my harts counsels bewraying, + My rebell thought for me in Ambushe lyes, + To my lyues foe her Chieftaine still betraying. + Record my loue in Ocean waues (vnkind) + Cast my desarts into the open ayre, + Commit my words vnto the fleeting wind, + Cancell my name, and blot it with dispayre; + So shall I bee as I had neuer beene, + Nor my disgraces to the world be seene. + + +Amour 43 + + Why doe I speake of ioy, or write of loue, + When my hart is the very Den of horror, + And in my soule the paynes of hell I proue, + With all his torments and infernall terror? + Myne eyes want teares thus to bewayle my woe, + My brayne is dry with weeping all too long; + My sighes be spent with griefe and sighing so, + And I want words for to expresse my wrong. + But still, distracted in loues lunacy, + And Bedlam like thus rauing in my griefe, + Now rayle vpon her hayre, now on her eye, + Now call her Goddesse, then I call her thiefe; + Now I deny her, then I doe confesse her, + Now I doe curse her, then againe I blesse her. + + +Amour 44 + + My hart the Anuile where my thoughts doe beate, + My words the hammers fashioning my desire, + My breast the forge, including all the heate, + Loue is the fuell which maintaines the fire: + My sighes the bellowes which the flame increaseth, + Filling mine eares with noise and nightly groning, + Toyling with paine my labour neuer ceaseth, + In greeuous passions my woes styll bemoning. + Myne eyes with teares against the fire stryuing, + With scorching gleed my hart to cynders turneth; + But with those drops the coles againe reuyuing, + Still more and more vnto my torment burneth. + With _Sisiphus_ thus doe I role the stone, + And turne the wheele with damned _Ixion_. + + +Amour 45 + + Blacke pytchy Night, companyon of my woe, + The Inne of care, the Nurse of drery sorrow, + Why lengthnest thou thy darkest howres so, + Still to prolong my long tyme lookt-for morrow? + Thou Sable shadow, Image of dispayre, + Portraite of hell, the ayres black mourning weed, + Recorder of reuenge, remembrancer of care, + The shadow and the vaile of euery sinfull deed. + Death like to thee, so lyue thou still in death, + The graue of ioy, prison of dayes delight. + Let heauens withdraw their sweet Ambrozian breath, + Nor Moone nor stars lend thee their shining light; + For thou alone renew'st that olde desire, + Which still torments me in dayes burning fire. + + +Amour 46 + + Sweete secrecie, what tongue can tell thy worth? + What mortall pen sufficiently can prayse thee? + What curious Pensill serues to lim thee forth? + What Muse hath power aboue thy height to raise thee? + Strong locke of kindnesse, Closet of loues store, + Harts Methridate, the soules preseruatiue; + O vertue! which all vertues doe adore, + Cheefe good, from whom all good things wee deriue. + O rare effect! true bond of friendships measure, + Conceite of Angels, which all wisdom teachest; + O, richest Casket of all heauenly treasure, + In secret silence which such wonders preachest. + O purest mirror! wherein men may see + The liuely Image of Diuinitie. + + +Amour 47 + + The golden Sunne vpon his fiery wheeles + The horned Ram doth in his course awake, + And of iust length our night and day doth make, + Flinging the Fishes backward with his heeles: + Then to the Tropicke takes his full Careere, + Trotting his sun-steeds till the Palfrays sweat, + Bayting the Lyon in his furious heat, + Till Virgins smyles doe sound his sweet reteere. + But my faire Planet, who directs me still, + Vnkindly such distemperature doth bring, + Makes Summer Winter, Autumne in the Spring, + Crossing sweet nature by vnruly will. + Such is the sunne who guides my youthfull season, + Whose thwarting course depriues the world of reason. + + +Amour 48 + + Who list to praise the dayes delicious lyght, + Let him compare it to her heauenly eye, + The sun-beames to the lustre of her sight; + So may the learned like the similie. + The mornings Crimson to her lyps alike, + The sweet of _Eden_ to her breathes perfume, + The fayre _Elizia_ to her fayrer cheeke, + Vnto her veynes the onely Phœnix plume. + The Angels tresses to her tressed hayre, + The _Galixia_ to her more then white. + Praysing the fayrest, compare it to my faire, + Still naming her in naming all delight. + So may he grace all these in her alone, + Superlatiue in all comparison. + + +Amour 49 + + Define my loue, and tell the ioyes of heauen, + Expresse my woes, and shew the paynes of hell; + Declare what fate vnlucky starres haue giuen, + And aske a world vpon my life to dwell. + Make knowne that fayth vnkindnes could not moue; + Compare my worth with others base desert: + Let vertue be the tuch-stone of my loue, + So may the heauens reade wonders in my hart. + Behold the Clowdes which haue eclips'd my sunne, + And view the crosses which my course doth let; + Tell mee, if euer since the world begunne, + So faire a Morning had so foule a set? + And, by all meanes, let black vnkindnes proue + The patience of so rare, diuine a loue. + + +Amour 50 + + When I first ended, then I first began; + The more I trauell, further from my rest; + Where most I lost, there most of all I wan; + Pyned with hunger, rysing from a feast. + Mee thinks I flee, yet want I legs to goe, + Wise in conceite, in acte a very sot; + Rauisht with ioy amidst a hell of woe, + What most I seeme, that surest I am not. + I build my hopes a world aboue the skye, + Yet with a Mole I creepe into the earth: + In plenty am I staru'd with penury, + And yet I serfet in the greatest dearth. + I haue, I want, dispayre, and yet desire, + Burn'd in a Sea of Ice, and drown'd amidst a fire. + + +Amour 51 + + Goe you, my lynes, Embassadours of loue, + With my harts tribute to her conquering eyes, + From whence, if you one tear of pitty moue + For all my woes, that onely shall suffise. + When you _Minerua_ in the sunne behold, + At her perfections stand you then and gaze, + Where in the compasse of a Marygold, + _Meridianis_ sits within a maze. + And let Inuention of her beauty vaunt + When _Dorus_ sings his sweet Pamelas loue, + And tell the Gods, _Mars_ is predominant, + Seated with _Sol_, and weares Mineruas gloue: + And tell the world, that in the world there is + A heauen on earth, on earth no heauen but this. + +FINIS. + + + + +[from the Edition of 1599] + + +Sonet 1 + + The worlds faire Rose, and _Henries_ frosty fire, + Iohns tyrannie; and chast _Matilda's_ wrong, + Th'inraged Queene, and furious _Mortimer_, + The scourge of Fraunce, and his chast loue I song; + Deposed _Richard_, _Isabell_ exil'd, + The gallant _Tudor_, and fayre _Katherine_, + Duke _Humfrey_, and old _Cobhams_ haplesse child, + Couragious _Pole_, and that braue spiritfull Queene; + _Edward_, and that delicious London Dame, + _Brandon_, and that rich dowager of Fraunce, + _Surrey_, with his fayre paragon of fame, + _Dudleys_ mishap, and vertuous _Grays_ mischance; + Their seuerall loues since I before haue showne, + Now giue me leaue at last to sing mine owne. + + +Sonet 2 + +_To the Reader of his Poems_ + + Into these loues who but for passion lookes, + At this first sight, here let him lay them by, + And seeke elsewhere in turning other bookes, + Which better may his labour satisfie. + No far-fetch'd sigh shall euer wound my brest, + Loue from mine eye, a teare shall neuer wring, + Nor in ah-mees my whyning Sonets drest, + (A Libertine) fantasticklie I sing; + My verse is the true image of my mind, + Euer in motion, still desiring change, + To choyce of all varietie inclin'd, + And in all humors sportiuely I range; + My actiue Muse is of the worlds right straine, + That cannot long one fashion entertaine. + + +Sonet 3 + + Many there be excelling in this kind, + Whose well trick'd rimes with all inuention swell, + Let each commend as best shall like his minde, + Some _Sidney_, _Constable_, some _Daniell_. + That thus theyr names familiarly I sing, + Let none think them disparaged to be, + Poore men with reuerence may speake of a King, + And so may these be spoken of by mee; + My wanton verse nere keepes one certaine stay, + But now, at hand; then, seekes inuention far, + And with each little motion runnes astray, + Wilde, madding, iocond, and irreguler; + Like me that lust, my honest merry rimes, + Nor care for Criticke, nor regard the times. + + +Sonet 5 + + My hart was slaine, and none but you and I, + Who should I thinke the murder should commit? + Since but your selfe, there was no creature by + But onely I, guiltlesse of murth'ring it. + It slew it selfe; the verdict on the view + Doe quit the dead and me not accessarie; + Well, well, I feare it will be prou'd by you, + The euidence so great a proofe doth carry. + But O, see, see, we need enquire no further, + Vpon your lips the scarlet drops are found, + And in your eye, the boy that did the murther, + Your cheekes yet pale since first they gaue the wound. + By this, I see, how euer things be past, + Yet heauen will still haue murther out at last. + + +Sonet 8 + + Nothing but no and I, and I and no, + How falls it out so strangely you reply? + I tell yee (Faire) Ile not be aunswered so, + With this affirming no, denying I, + I say I loue, you slightly aunswer I? + I say you loue, you pule me out a no; + I say I die, you eccho me with I, + Saue me I cry, you sigh me out a no: + Must woe and I, haue naught but no and I? + No, I am I, If I no more can haue, + Aunswer no more, with silence make reply, + And let me take my selfe what I doe craue; + Let no and I, with I and you be so, + Then aunswer no, and I, and I, and no. + + +Sonet 9 + + Loue once would daunce within my Mistres eye, + And wanting musique fitting for the place, + Swore that I should the Instrument supply, + And sodainly presents me with her face: + Straightwayes my pulse playes liuely in my vaines, + My panting breath doth keepe a meaner time, + My quau'ring artiers be the Tenours Straynes, + My trembling sinewes serue the Counterchime, + My hollow sighs the deepest base doe beare, + True diapazon in distincted sound: + My panting hart the treble makes the ayre, + And descants finely on the musiques ground; + Thus like a Lute or Violl did I lye, + Whilst the proud slaue daunc'd galliards in her eye. + + +Sonet 10 + + Loue in an humor played the prodigall, + And bids my sences to a solemne feast, + Yet more to grace the company withall, + Inuites my heart to be the chiefest guest; + No other drinke would serue this gluttons turne, + But precious teares distilling from mine eyne, + Which with my sighs this Epicure doth burne, + Quaffing carouses in this costly wine, + Where, in his cups or'come with foule excesse, + Begins to play a swaggering Ruffins part, + And at the banquet, in his drunkennes, + Slew my deare friend, his kind and truest hart; + A gentle warning, friends, thus may you see + What 'tis to keepe a drunkard company. + + +Sonet 11 + +_To the Moone_ + + Phæbe looke downe, and here behold in mee, + The elements within thy sphere inclosed, + How kindly Nature plac'd them vnder thee, + And in my world, see how they are disposed; + My hope is earth, the lowest, cold and dry, + The grosser mother of deepe melancholie, + Water my teares, coold with humidity, + Wan, flegmatick, inclind by nature wholie; + My sighs, the ayre, hote, moyst, ascending hier, + Subtile of sanguine, dy'de in my harts dolor, + My thoughts, they be the element of fire, + Hote, dry, and piercing, still inclind to choller, + Thine eye the Orbe vnto all these, from whence, + Proceeds th' effects of powerfull influence. + + +Sonet 12 + + To nothing fitter can I thee compare, + Then to the sonne of some rich penyfather, + Who hauing now brought on his end with care, + Leaues to his son all he had heap'd together; + This newe rich nouice, lauish of his chest, + To one man giues, and on another spends, + Then here he ryots, yet amongst the rest, + Haps to lend some to one true honest friend. + Thy gifts thou in obscuritie doost wast, + False friends thy kindnes, borne but to deceiue thee, + Thy loue, that is on the unworthy plac'd, + Time hath thy beauty, which with age will leaue thee; + Onely that little which to me was lent, + I giue thee back, when all the rest is spent. + + +Sonet 13 + + You not alone, when you are still alone, + O God from you that I could priuate be, + Since you one were, I neuer since was one, + Since you in me, my selfe since out of me + Transported from my selfe into your beeing + Though either distant, present yet to eyther, + Senceles with too much ioy, each other seeing, + And onely absent when we are together. + Giue me my selfe, and take your selfe againe, + Deuise some means but how I may forsake you, + So much is mine that doth with you remaine, + That taking what is mine, with me I take you, + You doe bewitch me, O that I could flie + From my selfe you, or from your owne selfe I. + + +Sonet 14 + +_To the Soule_ + + That learned Father which so firmly proues + The soule of man immortall and diuine, + And doth the seuerall offices define, + _Anima._ Giues her that name as shee the body moues, + _Amor._ Then is she loue imbracing Charitie, + _Animus._ Mouing a will in vs, it is the mind, + _Mens._ Retayning knowledge, still the same in kind; + _Memoria._ As intelectuall it is the memorie, + _Ratio._ In judging, Reason onely is her name, + _Sensus._ In speedy apprehension it is sence, + _Conscientia._ In right or wrong, they call her conscience. + _Spiritus._ The spirit, when it to Godward doth inflame. + These of the soule the seuerall functions bee, + Which my hart lightned by thy loue doth see. + + +Sonet 21 + + You cannot loue my pretty hart, and why? + There was a time, you told me that you would, + But now againe you will the same deny, + If it might please you, would to God you could; + What will you hate? nay, that you will not neither, + Nor loue, nor hate, how then? what will you do, + What will you keepe a meane then betwixt eyther? + Or will you loue me, and yet hate me to? + Yet serues not this, what next, what other shift? + You will, and will not, what a coyle is heere, + I see your craft, now I perceaue your drift, + And all this while, I was mistaken there. + Your loue and hate is this, I now doe proue you, + You loue in hate, by hate to make me loue you. + + +Sonet 22 + + An euill spirit your beauty haunts me still, + Where-with (alas) I haue been long possest, + Which ceaseth not to tempt me vnto ill, + Nor giues me once but one pore minutes rest. + In me it speakes, whether I sleepe or wake, + And when by meanes to driue it out I try, + With greater torments then it me doth take, + And tortures me in most extreamity. + Before my face, it layes all my dispaires, + And hasts me on vnto a suddaine death; + Now tempting me, to drown my selfe in teares, + And then in sighing to giue vp my breath: + Thus am I still prouok'd to euery euill, + By this good wicked spirit, sweet Angel deuill. + + +Sonet 23 + +_To the Spheares_ + + Thou which do'st guide this little world of loue, + Thy planets mansions heere thou mayst behold, + My brow the spheare where _Saturne_ still doth moue, + Wrinkled with cares: and withered, dry, and cold; + Mine eyes the Orbe where _Iupiter_ doth trace, + Which gently smile because they looke on thee, + _Mars_ in my swarty visage takes his place, + Made leane with loue, where furious conflicts bee. + _Sol_ in my breast with his hote scorching flame, + And in my hart alone doth _Venus_ raigne: + _Mercury_ my hands the Organs of thy fame, + And _Luna_ glides in my fantastick braine; + The starry heauen thy prayse by me exprest, + Thou the first moouer, guiding all the rest. + + +Sonet 24 + + Love banish'd heauen, in earth was held in scorne, + Wandring abroad in neede and beggery, + And wanting friends though of a Goddesse borne, + Yet crau'd the almes of such as passed by. + I like a man, deuout and charitable; + Clothed the naked, lodg'd this wandring guest, + With sighs and teares still furnishing his table, + With what might make the miserable blest; + But this vngratefull for my good desart, + Entic'd my thoughts against me to conspire, + Who gaue consent to steale away my hart, + And set my breast his lodging on a fire: + Well, well, my friends, when beggers grow thus bold, + No meruaile then though charity grow cold. + + +Sonet 25 + + O why should nature nigardly restraine, + The Sotherne Nations relish not our tongue, + Else should my lines glide on the waues of Rhene, + And crowne the Pirens with my liuing song; + But bounded thus to Scotland get you forth: + Thence take you wing vnto the Orcades, + There let my verse get glory in the North, + Making my sighs to thawe the frozen seas, + And let the Bards within the Irish Ile, + To whom my Muse with fiery wings shall passe, + Call backe the stifneckd rebels from exile, + And molifie the slaughtering Galliglasse: + And when my flowing numbers they rehearse, + Let Wolues and Bears be charmed with my verse. + + +Sonet 27 + + I gaue my faith to Loue, Loue his to mee, + That hee and I, sworne brothers should remaine, + Thus fayth receiu'd, fayth giuen back againe, + Who would imagine bond more sure could be? + Loue flies to her, yet holds he my fayth taken, + Thus from my vertue raiseth my offence, + Making me guilty by mine innocence; + And surer bond by beeing so forsaken, + He makes her aske what I before had vow'd, + Giuing her that, which he had giuen me, + I bound by him, and he by her made free, + Who euer so hard breach of fayth alow'd? + Speake you that should of right and wrong discusse, + Was right ere wrong'd, or wrong ere righted thus? + + +Sonet 29 + +_To the Sences_ + + When conquering loue did first my hart assaile, + Vnto mine ayde I summond euery sence, + Doubting if that proude tyrant should preuaile, + My hart should suffer for mine eyes offence; + But he with beauty, first corrupted sight, + My hearing bryb'd with her tongues harmony, + My taste, by her sweet lips drawne with delight, + My smelling wonne with her breaths spicerie; + But when my touching came to play his part, + (The King of sences, greater than the rest) + That yeelds loue up the keyes vnto my hart, + And tells the other how they should be blest; + And thus by those of whom I hop'd for ayde, + To cruell Loue my soule was first betrayd. + + +Sonet 30 + +_To the Vestalls_ + + Those Priests, which first the Vestall fire begun, + Which might be borrowed from no earthly flame, + Deuisd a vessell to receiue the sunne, + Beeing stedfastly opposed to the same; + Where with sweet wood laid curiously by Art, + Whereon the sunne might by reflection beate, + Receiuing strength from euery secret part, + The fuell kindled with celestiall heate. + Thy blessed eyes, the sunne which lights this fire, + My holy thoughts, they be the Vestall flame, + The precious odors be my chast desire, + My breast the fuell which includes the same; + Thou art my Vesta, thou my Goddesse art, + Thy hollowed Temple, onely is my hart. + + +Sonet 31 + + Me thinks I see some crooked Mimick ieere + And taxe my Muse with this fantastick grace, + Turning my papers, asks what haue we heere? + Making withall, some filthy anticke face; + I feare no censure, nor what thou canst say, + Nor shall my spirit one iote of vigor lose, + Think'st thou my wit shall keepe the pack-horse way, + That euery dudgen low inuention goes? + Since Sonnets thus in bundles are imprest, + And euery drudge doth dull our satiate eare, + Think'st thou my loue, shall in those rags be drest + That euery dowdie, euery trull doth weare? + Vnto my pitch no common iudgement flies, + I scorne all earthlie dung-bred scarabies. + + +Sonet 34 + +_To Admiration_ + + Maruaile not Loue, though I thy power admire, + Rauish'd a world beyond the farthest thought, + That knowing more then euer hath beene taught, + That I am onely staru'd in my desire; + Maruaile not Loue, though I thy power admire, + Ayming at things exceeding all perfection, + To wisedoms selfe, to minister direction, + That I am onely staru'd in my desire; + Maruaile not Loue, though I thy power admire, + Though my conceite I farther seeme to bend, + Then possibly inuention can extend, + And yet am onely staru'd in my desire; + If thou wilt wonder, heers the wonder loue, + That this to mee doth yet no wonder proue. + + +Sonet 43 + + Whilst thus my pen striues to eternize thee, + Age rules my lines with wrincles in my face, + Where in the Map of all my misery, + Is modeld out the world of my disgrace, + Whilst in despight of tyrannizing times, + _Medea_ like I make thee young againe, + Proudly thou scorn'st my world-outwearing rimes, + And murther'st vertue with thy coy disdaine; + And though in youth, my youth vntimely perrish, + To keepe thee from obliuion and the graue, + Ensuing ages yet my rimes shall cherrish, + Where I entomb'd, my better part shall saue; + And though this earthly body fade and die + My name shall mount vpon eternitie. + + +Sonet 44 + + Muses which sadly sit about my chayre, + Drownd in the teares extorted by my lines, + With heauy sighs whilst thus I breake the ayre, + Paynting my passions in these sad dissignes, + Since she disdaines to blesse my happy verse, + The strong built Trophies to her liuing fame, + Euer hence-forth my bosome be your hearse, + Wherein the world shal now entombe her name, + Enclose my musick you poor sencelesse walls, + Sith she is deafe and will not heare my mones, + Soften your selues with euery teare that falls, + Whilst I like _Orpheus_ sing to trees and stones: + Which with my plaints seeme yet with pitty moued, + Kinder then she who I so long haue loued. + + +Sonet 45 + + Thou leaden braine, which censur'st what I write, + And say'st my lines be dull and doe not moue, + I meruaile not thou feelst not my delight, + Which neuer felt my fiery tuch of loue. + But thou whose pen hath like a Pack-horse seru'd, + Whose stomack vnto gaule hath turn'd thy foode, + Whose sences like poore prisoners hunger-staru'd, + Whose griefe hath parch'd thy body, dry'd thy blood. + Thou which hast scorned life, and hated death, + And in a moment mad, sober, glad, and sorry, + Thou which hast band thy thoughts and curst thy breath, + With thousand plagues more then in purgatory. + Thou thus whose spirit Loue in his fire refines, + Come thou and reade, admire, applaud my lines. + + +Sonet 55 + + Truce gentle loue, a parly now I craue, + Me thinks, 'tis long since first these wars begun, + Nor thou nor I, the better yet can haue: + Bad is the match where neither party wone. + I offer free conditions of faire peace, + My hart for hostage, that it shall remaine, + Discharge our forces heere, let malice cease, + So for my pledge, thou giue me pledge againe. + Or if nothing but death will serue thy turne, + Still thirsting for subuersion of my state; + Doe what thou canst, raze, massacre, and burne, + Let the world see the vtmost of thy hate: + I send defiance, since if ouerthrowne, + Thou vanquishing, the conquest is mine owne. + + +Sonet 56 + +_A Consonet_ + + Eyes with your teares, blind if you bee, + Why haue these teares such eyes to see, + Poore eyes, if yours teares cannot moue, + My teares, eyes, then must mone my loue, + Then eyes, since you haue lost your sight, + Weepe still, and teares shall lend you light, + Till both desolu'd, and both want might. + No, no, cleere eyes, you are not blind, + But in my teares discerne my mind: + Teares be the language which you speake, + Which my hart wanting, yet must breake; + My tongue must cease to tell my wrongs, + And make my sighs to get them tongs, + Yet more then this to her belongs. + + +Sonet 57 + +_To_ Lucie _Countesse of Bedford_ + + Great Lady, essence of my chiefest good, + Of the most pure and finest tempred spirit, + Adorn'd with gifts, enobled by thy blood, + Which by discent true vertue do'st inherit: + That vertue which no fortune can depriue, + Which thou by birth tak'st from thy gracious mother, + Whose royall minds with equall motion striue, + Which most in honour shall excell the other; + Vnto thy fame my Muse herself shall taske, + Which rain'st vpon me thy sweet golden showers, + And but thy selfe, no subject will I aske, + Vpon whose praise my soule shall spend her powers. + Sweet Lady yet, grace this poore Muse of mine, + Whose faith, whose zeale, whose life, whose all is thine. + + +Sonet 58 + +_To the Lady_ Anne Harington + + Madam, my words cannot expresse my mind, + My zealous kindnes to make knowne to you, + When your desarts all seuerally I find; + In this attempt of me doe claim their due, + Your gracious kindnes that doth claime my hart; + Your bounty bids my hand to make it knowne, + Of me your vertues each doe claime a part, + And leaue me thus the least part of mine owne. + What should commend your modesty and wit, + Is by your wit and modesty commended + And standeth dumbe, in much admiring it, + And where it should begin, it there is ended; + Returning this your prayses onely due, + And to your selfe say you are onely you. + + + + +[from the Edition of 1602] + + +Sonnet 12 + +_To Lunacie_ + + As other men, so I my selfe doe muse, + Why in this sort I wrest Inuention so, + And why these giddy metaphors I vse, + Leauing the path the greater part doe goe; + I will resolue you; I am lunaticke, + And euer this in mad men you shall finde, + What they last thought on when the braine grew sick, + In most distraction keepe that still in minde. + Thus talking idely in this bedlam fit, + Reason and I, (you must conceiue) are twaine, + 'Tis nine yeeres, now, since first I lost my wit + Beare with me, then, though troubled be my braine; + With diet and correction, men distraught, + (Not too farre past) may to their wits be brought. + + +Sonnet 17 + + If hee from heauen that filch'd that liuing fire, + Condemn'd by _Ioue_ to endlesse torment be, + I greatly meruaile how you still goe free, + That farre beyond _Promethius_ did aspire? + The fire he stole, although of heauenly kinde, + Which from aboue he craftily did take, + Of liueles clods vs liuing men to make, + Againe bestow'd in temper of the mind. + But you broke in to heauens immortall store, + Where vertue, honour, wit, and beautie lay, + Which taking thence, you haue escap'd away, + Yet stand as free as ere you did before. + But old _Promethius_ punish'd for his rape, + Thus poore theeues suffer, when the greater scape. + + +Sonnet 25 + +_To Folly_ + + With fooles and children good discretion beares, + Then honest people beare with Loue and me, + Nor older yet, nor wiser made by yeeres, + Amongst the rest of fooles and children be; + Loues still a Baby, playes with gaudes and toyes, + And like a wanton sports with euery feather, + And Idiots still are running after boyes, + Then fooles and children fitt'st to goe together; + He still as young as when he first was borne, + No wiser I, then when as young as he, + You that behold vs, laugh vs not to scorne, + Giue Nature thanks, you are not such as we; + Yet fooles and children sometimes tell in play, + Some wise in showe, more fooles in deede, then they. + + +Sonnet 27 + + I heare some say, this man is not in loue, + Who, can he loue? a likely thing they say: + Reade but his verse, and it will easily proue; + O iudge not rashly (gentle Sir) I pray, + Because I loosely tryfle in this sort, + As one that faine his sorrowes would beguile: + You now suppose me, all this time in sport, + And please your selfe with this conceit the while. + You shallow censures; sometime see you not + In greatest perills some men pleasant be, + Where fame by death is onely to be got, + They resolute, so stands the case with me; + Where other men, in depth of passion cry, + I laugh at fortune, as in iest to die. + + +Sonnet 31 + + To such as say thy loue I ouer-prize, + And doe not sticke to terme my praises folly, + Against these folkes that think them selues so wise, + I thus appose my force of reason wholly, + Though I giue more, then well affords my state, + In which expense the most suppose me vaine, + Would yeeld them nothing at the easiest rate, + Yet at this price, returnes me treble gaine, + They value not, vnskilfull how to vse, + And I giue much, because I gaine thereby, + I that thus take, or they that thus refuse, + Whether are these deccaued then, or I? + In euery thing I hold this maxim still, + The circumstance doth make it good or ill. + + +Sonnet 41 + + Deare, why should you commaund me to my rest + When now the night doth summon all to sleepe? + Me thinks this time becommeth louers best, + Night was ordained together friends to keepe. + How happy are all other liuing things, + Which though the day disioyne by seuerall flight, + The quiet euening yet together brings, + And each returnes vnto his loue at night. + O thou that art so curteous vnto all, + Why shouldst thou Night abuse me onely thus, + That euery creature to his kinde doost call, + And yet tis thou doost onely seuer vs. + Well could I wish it would be euer day, + If when night comes you bid me goe away. + + +Sonnet 58 + +_To Prouerbe_ + + As Loue and I, late harbour'd in one Inne, + With Prouerbs thus each other intertaine; + _In loue there is no lacke, thus I beginne? + Faire words makes fooles, replieth he againe? + That spares to speake, doth spare to speed (quoth I) + As well (saith he) too forward as too slow. + Fortune assists the boldest, I replie? + A hasty man (quoth he) nere wanted woe. + Labour is light, where loue (quoth I) doth pay, + (Saith he) light burthens heauy, if farre borne? + (Quoth I) the maine lost, cast the by away: + You haue spunne a faire thred, he replies in scorne_. + And hauing thus a while each other thwarted, + Fooles as we met, so fooles againe we parted. + + +Sonnet 63 + +_To the high and mighty Prince, James, King of Scots_ + + Not thy graue Counsells, nor thy Subiects loue, + Nor all that famous Scottish royaltie, + Or what thy soueraigne greatnes may approue, + Others in vaine doe but historifie, + When thine owne glorie from thy selfe doth spring, + As though thou did'st, all meaner prayses scorne: + Of Kings a Poet, and the Poets King, + They Princes, but thou Prophets do'st adorne; + Whilst others by their Empires are renown'd, + Thou do'st enrich thy Scotland with renowne, + And Kings can but with Diadems be crown'd, + But with thy Laurell, thou doo'st crowne thy Crowne; + That they whose pens, euen life to Kings doe giue, + In thee a King, shall seeke them selues to liue. + + +Sonnet _66_ + +_To the Lady_ L.S. + + Bright starre of Beauty, on whose eyelids sit, + A thousand Nimph-like and enamoured Graces, + The Goddesses of memory and wit, + Which in due order take their seuerall places, + In whose deare bosome, sweet delicious loue, + Layes downe his quiuer, that he once did beare, + Since he that blessed Paradice did proue, + Forsooke his mothers lap to sport him there. + Let others striue to entertaine with words, + My soule is of another temper made; + I hold it vile that vulgar wit affords, + Deuouring time my faith, shall not inuade: + Still let my praise be honoured thus by you, + Be you most worthy, whilst I be most true. + + + + +[from the Edition of 1605] + + +Sonnet 43 + + Why should your faire eyes with such soueraine grace, + Dispearse their raies on euery vulgar spirit, + Whilst I in darknes in the selfesame place, + Get not one glance to recompence my merit: + So doth the plow-man gaze the wandring starre, + And onely rests contented with the light, + That neuer learnd what constellations are, + Beyond the bent of his vnknowing sight. + O why should beautie (custome to obey) + To their grosse sence applie her selfe so ill? + Would God I were as ignorant as they + When I am made vnhappy by my skill; + Onely compeld on this poore good to boast, + Heauens are not kind to them that know them most. + + +Sonnet 46 + + Plain-path'd Experience the vnlearneds guide, + Her simple followers euidently shewes, + Sometime what schoolemen scarcely can decide, + Nor yet wise Reason absolutely knowes: + In making triall of a murther wrought, + If the vile actor of the heinous deede, + Neere the dead bodie happily be brought, + Oft hath been prou'd the breathlesse coarse will bleed; + She comming neere that my poore hart hath slaine, + Long since departed, (to the world no more) + The auncient wounds no longer can containe, + But fall to bleeding as they did before: + But what of this? should she to death be led, + It furthers iustice, but helpes not the dead. + + +Sonnet 47 + + In pride of wit, when high desire of fame + Gaue life and courage to my labouring pen, + And first the sound and vertue of my name, + Won grace and credit in the eares of men: + With those the thronged Theaters that presse, + I in the circuite for the Lawrell stroue, + Where the full praise I freely must confesse, + In heate of blood a modest minde might moue: + With showts and daps at euerie little pawse, + When the prowd round on euerie side hath rung, + Sadly I sit vnmou'd with the applawse, + As though to me it nothing did belong: + No publique glorie vainely I pursue, + The praise I striue, is to eternize you. + + +Sonnet 50 + + As in some Countries far remote from hence, + The wretched creature destined to die, + Hauing the iudgement due to his offence, + By Surgeons begg'd, their Art on him to trie: + Which on the liuing worke without remorce, + First make incision on each maistring vaine, + Then stanch the bleeding, then transperce the coarse, + And with their balmes recure the wounds againe, + Then poison and with Phisicke him restore, + Not that they feare the hopelesse man to kill, + But their experience to encrease the more; + Euen so my Mistresse works vpon my ill, + By curing me, and killing me each howre, + Onely to shew her beauties soueraigne powre. + + +Sonnet 51 + + Calling to minde since first my loue begunne, + Th' incertaine times oft varying in their course, + How things still vnexpectedly haue runne, + As please the fates, by their resistlesse force: + Lastly, mine eyes amazedly haue scene, + _Essex_ great fall, _Tyrone_ his peace to gaine, + The quiet end of that long-liuing Queene, + This Kings faire entrance, and our peace with Spaine, + We and the Dutch at length our selues to seuer. + Thus the world doth, and euermore shall reele, + Yet to my goddesse am I constant euer; + How ere blind fortune turne her giddy wheele: + Though heauen and earth proue both to mee vntrue, + Yet am I still inuiolate to you. + + +Sonnet 57 + + You best discern'd of my interior eies, + And yet your graces outwardly diuine, + Whose deare remembrance in my bosome lies, + Too riche a relique for so poore a shrine: + You in whome Nature chose herselfe to view, + When she her owne perfection would admire, + Bestowing all her excellence on you; + At whose pure eies Loue lights his halowed fire, + Euen as a man that in some traunce hath scene, + More than his wondring vttrance can vnfolde, + That rapt in spirite in better worlds hath beene, + So must your praise distractedly be tolde; + Most of all short, when I should shew you most, + In your perfections altogether lost. + + +Sonnet 58 + + In former times, such as had store of coyne, + In warres at home, or when for conquests bound, + For feare that some their treasures should purloyne, + Gaue it to keepe to spirites within the ground; + And to attend it, them so strongly tide, + Till they return'd, home when they neuer came, + Such as by art to get the same haue tride, + From the strong spirits by no means get the same, + Neerer you come, that further flies away, + Striuing to holde it strongly in the deepe: + Euen as this spirit, so she alone doth play, + With those rich Beauties heauen giues her to keepe: + Pitty so left, to coldenes of her blood, + Not to auaile her, nor do others good. + + +_To Sir Walter Aston, Knight of the honourable + order of the Bath, and my most + worthy Patron_ + + I will not striue m' inuention to inforce, + With needlesse words your eyes to entertaine, + T' obserue the formall ordinarie course + That euerie one so vulgarly doth faine: + Our interchanged and deliberate choise, + Is with more firme and true election sorted, + Then stands in censure of the common voice. + That with light humor fondly is transported: + Nor take I patterne of another's praise, + Then what my pen may constantly avow. + Nor walke more publique nor obscurer waies + Then vertue bids, and iudgement will allow; + So shall my tone, and best endeuours serue you, + And still shall studie, still so to deserue you. + _Michaell Drayton._ + + + + +[from the Edition of 1619] + +1 + + Like an aduenturous Sea-farer am I, + Who hath some long and dang'rous Voyage beene, + And call'd to tell of his Discouerie, + How farre he sayl'd, what Countries he had seene, + Proceeding from the Port whence he put forth, + Shewes by his Compasse, how his Course he steer'd, + When East, when West, when South, and when by North, + As how the Pole to eu'ry place was rear'd, + What Capes he doubled, of what Continent, + The Gulphes and Straits, that strangely he had past, + Where most becalm'd, wherewith foule Weather spent, + And on what Rocks in perill to be cast? + Thus in my Loue, Time calls me to relate + My tedious Trauels, and oft-varying Fate. + + +6 + + How many paltry, foolish, painted things, + That now in Coaches trouble eu'ry Street, + Shall be forgotten, whom no Poet sings, + Ere they be well wrap'd in their winding Sheet? + Where I to thee Eternitie shall giue, + When nothing else remayneth of these dayes, + And Queenes hereafter shall be glad to liue + Vpon the Almes of thy superfluous prayse; + Virgins and Matrons reading these my Rimes, + Shall be so much delighted with thy story, + That they shall grieve, they liu'd not in these Times, + To haue seene thee, their Sexes onely glory: + So shalt thou flye aboue the vulgar Throng, + Still to suruiue in my immortall Song. + + +8 + + There's nothing grieues me, but that Age should haste, + That in my dayes I may not see thee old, + That where those two deare sparkling Eyes are plac'd, + Onely two Loope-holes, then I might behold. + That louely, arched, yuorie, pollish'd Brow, + Defac'd with Wrinkles, that I might but see; + Thy daintie Hayre, so curl'd, and crisped now, + Like grizzled Mosse vpon some aged Tree; + Thy Cheeke, now flush with Roses, sunke, and leane, + Thy Lips, with age, as any Wafer thinne, + Thy Pearly teeth out of thy head so cleane, + That when thou feed'st, thy Nose shall touch thy Chinne: + These Lines that now thou scorn'st, which should delight thee, + Then would I make thee read, but to despight thee. + + +15 + +_His Remedie for Loue_ + + Since to obtaine thee, nothing me will sted, + I haue a Med'cine that shall cure my Loue, + The powder of her Heart dry'd, when she is dead, + That Gold nor Honour ne'r had power to moue; + Mix'd with her Teares, that ne'r her true-Loue crost, + Nor at Fifteene ne'r long'd to be a Bride, + Boyl'd with her Sighes, in giuing vp the Ghost, + That for her late deceased Husband dy'd; + Into the same then let a Woman breathe, + That being chid, did neuer word replie, + With one thrice-marry'd's Pray'rs, that did bequeath + A Legacie to stale Virginitie. + If this Receit haue not the pow'r to winne me, + Little Ile say, but thinke the Deuill's in me. + + +21 + + A witlesse Gallant, a young Wench that woo'd, + (Yet his dull Spirit her not one iot could moue) + Intreated me, as e'r I wish'd his good, + To write him but one Sonnet to his Loue: + When I, as fast as e'r my Penne could trot, + Powr'd out what first from quicke Inuention came; + Nor neuer stood one word thereof to blot, + Much like his Wit, that was to vse the same: + But with my Verses he his Mistres wonne, + Who doted on the Dolt beyond all measure. + But soe, for you to Heau'n for Phraze I runne, + And ransacke all APOLLO'S golden Treasure; + Yet by my Troth, this Foole his Loue obtaines, + And I lose you, for all my Wit and Paines. + + +27 + + Is not Loue here, as 'tis in other Clymes, + And diff'reth it, as doe the seu'rall Nations? + Or hath it lost the Vertue, with the Times, + Or in this land alt'reth with the Fashions? + Or haue our Passions lesser pow'r then theirs, + Who had lesse Art them liuely to expresse? + Is Nature growne lesse pow'rfull in their Heires, + Or in our Fathers did the more transgresse? + I am sure my Sighes come from a Heart as true, + As any Mans, that Memory can boast, + And my Respects and Seruices to you + Equall with his, that loues his Mistris most: + Or Nature must be partiall in my Cause, + Or onely you doe violate her Lawes. + + +36 + +_Cupid coniured_ + + Thou purblind Boy, since thou hast been so slacke + To wound her Heart, whose Eyes haue wounded me, + And suff'red her to glory in my Wracke, + Thus to my aid, I lastly coniure thee; + By Hellish _Styx_ (by which the THUND'RER sweares) + By thy faire Mothers vnauoided Power, + By HECAT'S Names, by PROSERPINE'S sad Teares, + When she was rapt to the infernall Bower, + By thine own loued PSYCHES, by the Fires + Spent on thine Altars, flaming vp to Heau'n; + By all the Louers Sighes, Vowes, and Desires, + By all the Wounds that euer thou hast giu'n; + I coniure thee by all that I haue nam'd, + To make her loue, or CUPID be thou damn'd. + + +48 + + Cupid, I hate thee, which I'de haue thee know, + A naked Starueling euer may'st thou be, + Poore Rogue, goe pawne thy _Fascia_ and thy Bow, + For some few Ragges, wherewith to couer thee; + Or if thou'lt not, thy Archerie forbeare, + To some base Rustick doe thy selfe preferre, + And when Corne's sowne, or growne into the Eare, + Practise thy Quiuer, and turne Crow-keeper; + Or being Blind (as fittest for the Trade) + Goe hyre thy selfe some bungling Harpers Boy; + They that are blind, are Minstrels often made, + So may'st thou liue, to thy faire Mothers Ioy: + That whilst with MARS she holdeth her old way, + Thou, her Blind Sonne, may'st sit by them, and play. + + +52 + + What dost thou meane to Cheate me of my Heart, + To take all Mine, and giue me none againe? + Or haue thine Eyes such Magike, or that Art, + That what They get, They euer doe retaine? + Play not the Tyrant, but take some Remorse, + Rebate thy Spleene, if but for Pitties sake; + Or Cruell, if thou can'st not; let vs scorse, + And for one Piece of Thine, my whole heart take. + But what of Pitty doe I speake to Thee, + Whose Brest is proofe against Complaint or Prayer? + Or can I thinke what my Reward shall be + From that proud Beauty, which was my betrayer? + What talke I of a Heart, when thou hast none? + Or if thou hast, it is a flinty one. + + +61 + + Since there 's no helpe, Come let vs kisse and part, + Nay, I haue done: You get no more of Me, + And I am glad, yea glad withall my heart, + That thus so cleanly, I my Selfe can free, + Shake hands for euer, Cancell all our Vowes, + And when we meet at any time againe, + Be it not scene in either of our Browes, + That We one iot of former Loue reteyne; + Now at the last gaspe of Loues latest Breath, + When his Pulse fayling, Passion speechlesse lies, + When Faith is kneeling by his bed of Death, + And Innocence is closing vp his Eyes, + Now if thou would'st, when all haue giuen him ouer, + From Death to Life, thou might'st him yet recouer. + + + + +ODES + +[from the Edition of 1619] + + +TO HIMSELFE AND THE HARPE + + And why not I, as hee + That's greatest, if as free, + (In sundry strains that striue, + Since there so many be) + Th' old _Lyrick_ kind reuiue? + + I will, yea, and I may; + Who shall oppose my way? + For what is he alone, + That of himselfe can say, + Hee's Heire of _Helicon_? 10 + + APOLLO, and the Nine, + Forbid no Man their Shrine, + That commeth with hands pure; + Else be they so diuine, + They will not him indure. + + For they be such coy Things, + That they care not for Kings, + And dare let them know it; + Nor may he touch their Springs, + That is not borne a Poet. 20 + +Pyreneus, _King The _Phocean_ it did proue, +of_ Phocis, Whom when foule Lust did moue, +_attempting to Those Mayds vnchast to make, +rauish the Muses._ Fell, as with them he stroue, + His Neck and iustly brake. + + That instrument ne'r heard, + Strooke by the skilfull Bard, + It strongly to awake; + But it th' infernalls skard, + And made Olympus quake. 30 + +Sam. lib. 1. As those Prophetike strings +cap. 16. Whose sounds with fiery Wings, + Draue Fiends from their abode, + Touch'd by the best of Kings, + That sang the holy Ode. + +Orpheus _the_ So his, which Women slue, +Thracian _Poet_. And it int' Hebrus threw, +Caput, Hebre, Such sounds yet forth it sent, +lyramque Excipis. The Bankes to weepe that drue, +&c. Ouid. lib. 11. As downe the streame it went. 40 +Metam. +Mercury _inuentor That by the Tortoyse shell, +of the Harpe, as_ To MAYAS Sonne it fell, +Horace Ode 10. The most thereof not doubt +lib. 1. _curuaq; But sure some Power did dwell, +lyra parentẽ_. In Him who found it out. + +Thebes _fayned The Wildest of the field, +to haue beene And Ayre, with Riuers t' yeeld, +raysed by Which mou'd; that sturdy Glebes, +Musicke._ And massie Oakes could weeld, + To rayse the pyles of _Thebes_. 50 + + And diuersly though Strung, + So anciently We sung, + To it, that Now scarce knowne, + If first it did belong + To _Greece_, or if our Owne. + +_The ancient_ The _Druydes_ imbrew'd, +British _Priests_ With Gore, on Altars rude +so called of With Sacrifices crown'd, +their abode in In hollow Woods bedew'd, +woods. Ador'd the Trembling sound. 60 + +Pindar _Prince of Though wee be All to seeke, +the_ Greeke Of PINDAR that Great _Greeke_, +lyricks, _of whom_ To Finger it aright, +Horace: Pindarum The Soule with power to strike, +quisquis studet, His hand retayn'd such Might. +&c. Ode 2. lib. 4. +Horace _first of Or him that _Rome_ did grace +the_ Romans _in Whose Ayres we all imbrace, +that kind_. That scarcely found his Peere, + Nor giueth PHŒBVS place, + For Strokes diuinely cleere. 70 + +_The_ Irish The _Irish_ I admire, +_Harpe_. And still cleaue to that Lyre, + As our Musike's Mother, + And thinke, till I expire, + APOLLO'S such another. + + As _Britons_, that so long + Haue held this Antike Song, + And let all our Carpers + Forbeare their fame to wrong, + Th' are right skilfull Harpers. 80 + +Southerne, _an_ _Southerne_, I long thee spare, +English _Lyrick_. Yet wish thee well to fare, + Who me pleased'st greatly, + As first, therefore more rare, + Handling thy Harpe neatly. + + To those that with despight + Shall terme these Numbers slight, + Tell them their Iudgement's blind, + Much erring from the right, + It is a Noble kind. 90 + +_An old_ English Nor is 't the Verse doth make, +_Rymer_. That giueth, or doth take, + 'Tis possible to clyme, + To kindle, or to slake, + Although in SKELTON'S Ryme. + + +TO THE NEW YEERE + + Rich Statue, double-faced, + With Marble Temples graced, + To rayse thy God-head hyer, + In flames where Altars shining, + Before thy Priests diuining, + Doe od'rous Fumes expire. + + Great IANVS, I thy pleasure, + With all the _Thespian_ treasure, + Doe seriously pursue; + To th' passed yeere returning, 10 + As though the old adiourning, + Yet bringing in the new. + + Thy ancient Vigils yeerely, + I haue obserued cleerely, + Thy Feasts yet smoaking bee; + Since all thy store abroad is, + Giue something to my Goddesse, + As hath been vs'd by thee. + + Giue her th' _Eoan_ brightnesse, + Wing'd with that subtill lightnesse, 20 + That doth trans-pierce the Ayre; + The Roses of the Morning + The rising Heau'n adorning, + To mesh with flames of Hayre. + + Those ceaselesse Sounds, aboue all, + Made by those Orbes that moue all, + And euer swelling there, + Wrap'd vp in Numbers flowing, + Them actually bestowing, + For Iewels at her Eare. 30 + + O Rapture great and holy, + Doe thou transport me wholly, + So well her forme to vary, + That I aloft may beare her, + Whereas I will insphere her, + In Regions high and starry. + + And in my choise Composures, + The soft and easie Closures, + So amorously shall meet; + That euery liuely Ceasure 40 + Shall tread a perfect Measure + Set on so equall feet. + + That Spray to fame so fertle, + The Louer-crowning Mirtle, + In Wreaths of mixed Bowes, + Within whose shades are dwelling + Those Beauties most excelling, + Inthron'd vpon her Browes. + + Those Paralels so euen, + Drawne on the face of Heauen, 50 + That curious Art supposes, + Direct those Gems, whose cleerenesse + Farre off amaze by neerenesse, + Each Globe such fire incloses. + + Her Bosome full of Blisses, + By Nature made for Kisses, + So pure and wond'rous cleere, + Whereas a thousand Graces + Behold their louely Faces, + As they are bathing there. 60 + + O, thou selfe-little blindnesse, + The kindnesse of vnkindnesse, + Yet one of those diuine; + Thy Brands to me were leuer, + Thy _Fascia_, and thy Quiuer, + And thou this Quill of mine. + + This Heart so freshly bleeding, + Vpon it owne selfe feeding, + Whose woundes still dropping be; + O Loue, thy selfe confounding, 70 + Her coldnesse so abounding, + And yet such heat in me. + + Yet if I be inspired, + Ile leaue thee so admired, + To all that shall succeed, + That were they more then many, + 'Mongst all, there is not any, + That Time so oft shall read. + + Nor Adamant ingraued, + That hath been choisely 'st saued, 80 + IDEA'S Name out-weares; + So large a Dower as this is, + The greatest often misses, + The Diadem that beares. + + +TO HIS VALENTINE + + Muse, bid the Morne awake, + Sad Winter now declines, + Each Bird doth chuse a Make, + This day 's Saint VALENTINE'S; + For that good Bishop's sake + Get vp, and let vs see, + What Beautie it shall bee, + That Fortune vs assignes. + + But lo, in happy How'r, + The place wherein she lyes, 10 + In yonder climbing Tow'r, + Gilt by the glitt'ring Rise; + O IOVE! that in a Show'r, + As once that Thund'rer did, + When he in drops lay hid, + That I could her surprize. + + Her Canopie Ile draw, + With spangled Plumes bedight, + No Mortall euer saw + So rauishing a sight; 20 + That it the Gods might awe, + And pow'rfully trans-pierce + The Globie Vniuerse, + Out-shooting eu'ry Light. + + My Lips Ile softly lay + Vpon her heau'nly Cheeke, + Dy'd like the dawning Day, + As polish'd Iuorie sleeke: + And in her Eare Ile say; + O, thou bright Morning-Starre, 30 + 'Tis I that come so farre, + My Valentine to seeke. + + Each little Bird, this Tyde, + Doth chuse her loued Pheere, + Which constantly abide + In Wedlock all the yeere, + As Nature is their Guide: + So may we two be true, + This yeere, nor change for new, + As Turtles coupled were. 40 + + The Sparrow, Swan, the Doue, + Though VENVS Birds they be, + Yet are they not for Loue + So absolute as we: + For Reason vs doth moue; + They but by billing woo: + Then try what we can doo, + To whom each sense is free. + + Which we haue more then they, + By liuelyer Organs sway'd, 50 + Our Appetite each way + More by our Sense obay'd: + Our Passions to display, + This Season vs doth fit; + Then let vs follow it, + As Nature vs doth lead. + + One Kisse in two let's breake, + Confounded with the touch, + But halfe words let vs speake, + Our Lip's imploy'd so much, 60 + Vntill we both grow weake, + With sweetnesse of thy breath; + O smother me to death: + Long let our Ioyes be such. + + Let's laugh at them that chuse + Their Valentines by lot, + To weare their Names that vse, + Whom idly they haue got: + Such poore choise we refuse, + Saint VALENTINE befriend; 70 + We thus this Morne may spend, + Else Muse, awake her not. + + +THE HEART + + If thus we needs must goe, + What shall our one Heart doe, + This One made of our Two? + + Madame, two Hearts we brake, + And from them both did take + The best, one Heart to make. + + Halfe this is of your Heart, + Mine in the other part, + Ioyn'd by our equall Art. + + Were it cymented, or sowne, 10 + By Shreds or Pieces knowne, + We each might find our owne. + + But 'tis dissolu'd, and fix'd, + And with such cunning mix'd, + No diffrence that betwixt. + + But how shall we agree, + By whom it kept shall be, + Whether by you, or me? + + It cannot two Brests fill, + One must be heartlesse still, 20 + Vntill the other will. + + It came to me one day, + When I will'd it to say, + With whether it would stay? + + It told me, in your Brest, + Where it might hope to rest: + For if it were my Ghest, + + For certainety it knew, + That I would still anew + Be sending it to you. 30 + + Neuer, I thinke, had two + Such worke, so much to doo, + A Vnitie to woo. + + Yours was so cold and chaste, + Whilst mine with zeale did waste, + Like Fire with Water plac'd. + + How did my Heart intreat, + How pant, how did it beat, + Till it could giue yours heat! + + Till to that temper brought, 40 + Through our perfection wrought, + That blessing eythers Thought. + + In such a Height it lyes, + From this base Worlds dull Eyes, + That Heauen it not enuyes. + + All that this Earth can show, + Our Heart shall not once know, + For it too vile and low. + + +THE SACRIFICE TO APOLLO + + Priests of APOLLO, sacred be the Roome, + For this learn'd Meeting: Let no barbarous Groome, + How braue soe'r he bee, + Attempt to enter; + But of the Muses free, + None here may venter; + This for the _Delphian_ Prophets is prepar'd: + The prophane Vulgar are from hence debar'd. + + And since the Feast so happily begins, + Call vp those faire Nine, with their Violins; 10 + They are begot by IOVE, + Then let vs place them, + Where no Clowne in may shoue, + That may disgrace them: + But let them neere to young APOLLO sit; + So shall his Foot-pace ouer-flow with Wit. + + Where be the Graces, where be those fayre Three? + In any hand they may not absent bee: + They to the Gods are deare, + And they can humbly 20 + Teach vs, our Selues to beare, + And doe things comely: + They, and the Muses, rise both from one Stem, + They grace the Muses, and the Muses them. + + Bring forth your Flaggons (fill'd with sparkling Wine) + Whereon swolne BACCHVS, crowned with a Vine, + Is grauen, and fill out, + It well bestowing, + To eu'ry Man about, + In Goblets flowing: 30 + Let not a Man drinke, but in Draughts profound; + To our God PHŒBVS let the Health goe Round. + + Let your Iests flye at large; yet therewithall + See they be Salt, but yet not mix'd with Gall: + Not tending to disgrace, + But fayrely giuen, + Becomming well the place, + Modest, and euen; + That they with tickling Pleasure may prouoke + Laughter in him, on whom the Iest is broke. 40 + + Or if the deeds of HEROES ye rehearse, + Let them be sung in so well-ord'red Verse, + That each word haue his weight, + Yet runne with pleasure; + Holding one stately height, + In so braue measure, + That they may make the stiffest Storme seeme weake, + And dampe IOVES Thunder, when it lowd'st doth speake. + + And if yee list to exercise your Vayne, + Or in the Sock, or in the Buskin'd Strayne, 50 + Let Art and Nature goe + One with the other; + Yet so, that Art may show + Nature her Mother; + The thick-brayn'd Audience liuely to awake, + Till with shrill Claps the Theater doe shake. + + Sing Hymnes to BACCHVS then, with hands vprear'd, + Offer to IOVE, who most is to be fear'd; + From him the Muse we haue, + From him proceedeth 60 + More then we dare to craue; + 'Tis he that feedeth + Them, whom the World would starue; then let the Lyre + Sound, whilst his Altars endlesse flames expire. + + +TO CVPID + + Maydens, why spare ye? + Or whether not dare ye + Correct the blind Shooter? + Because wanton VENVS, + So oft that doth paine vs, + Is her Sonnes Tutor. + + Now in the Spring, + He proueth his Wing, + The Field is his Bower, + And as the small Bee, 10 + About flyeth hee, + From Flower to Flower. + + And wantonly roues, + Abroad in the Groues, + And in the Ayre houers, + Which when it him deweth, + His Fethers he meweth, + In sighes of true Louers. + + And since doom'd by Fate, + (That well knew his Hate) 20 + That Hee should be blinde; + For very despite, + Our Eyes be his White, + So wayward his kinde. + + If his Shafts loosing, + (Ill his Mark choosing) + Or his Bow broken; + The Moane VENVS maketh, + And care that she taketh, + Cannot be spoken. 30 + + To VULCAN commending + Her loue, and straight sending + Her Doues and her Sparrowes, + With Kisses vnto him, + And all but to woo him, + To make her Sonne Arrowes. + + Telling what he hath done, + (Sayth she, Right mine owne Sonne) + In her Armes she him closes, + Sweetes on him fans, 40 + Layd in Downe of her Swans, + His Sheets, Leaues of Roses. + + And feeds him with Kisses; + Which oft when he misses, + He euer is froward: + The Mothers o'r-ioying, + Makes by much coying, + The Child so vntoward. + + Yet in a fine Net, + That a Spider set, 50 + The Maydens had caught him; + Had she not beene neere him, + And chanced to heare him, + More good they had taught him. + + +AN AMOVRET ANACREONTICK + + Most good, most faire, + Or Thing as rare, + To call you's lost; + For all the cost + Words can bestow, + So poorely show + Vpon your prayse, + That all the wayes + Sense hath, come short: + Whereby Report 10 + Falls them vnder; + That when Wonder + More hath seyzed, + Yet not pleased, + That it in kinde + Nothing can finde, + You to expresse: + Neuerthelesse, + As by Globes small, + This Mightie ALL 20 + Is shew'd, though farre + From Life, each Starre + A World being: + So wee seeing + You, like as that, + Onely trust what + Art doth vs teach; + And when I reach + At Morall Things, + And that my Strings 30 + Grauely should strike, + Straight some mislike + Blotteth mine ODE. + As with the Loade, + The Steele we touch, + Forced ne'r so much, + Yet still remoues + To that it loues, + Till there it stayes; + So to your prayse 40 + I turne euer, + And though neuer + From you mouing, + Happie so louing. + + +LOVES CONQVEST + + Wer't granted me to choose, + How I would end my dayes; + Since I this life must loose, + It should be in Your praise; + For there is no Bayes + Can be set aboue you. + + S' impossibly I loue You, + And for you sit so hie, + Whence none may remoue You + In my cleere Poesie, 10 + That I oft deny + You so ample Merit. + + The freedome of my Spirit + Maintayning (still) my Cause, + Your Sex not to inherit, + Vrging the _Salique_ Lawes; + But your Vertue drawes + From me euery due. + + Thus still You me pursue, + That no where I can dwell, 20 + By Feare made iust to You, + Who naturally rebell, + Of You that excell + That should I still Endyte, + + Yet will You want some Ryte. + That lost in your high praise + I wander to and fro, + As seeing sundry Waies: + Yet which the right not know + To get out of this Maze. 30 + + +TO THE VIRIGINIAN VOYAGE + + You braue Heroique minds, + Worthy your Countries Name; + That Honour still pursue, + Goe, and subdue, + Whilst loyt'ring Hinds + Lurke here at home, with shame. + + _Britans_, you stay too long, + Quickly aboard bestow you, + And with a merry Gale + Swell your stretch'd Sayle, 10 + With Vowes as strong, + As the Winds that blow you. + + Your Course securely steere, + West and by South forth keepe, + Rocks, Lee-shores, nor Sholes, + When EOLVS scowles, + You need not feare, + So absolute the Deepe. + + And cheerefully at Sea, + Successe you still intice, 20 + To get the Pearle and Gold, + And ours to hold, + VIRGINIA, + Earth's onely Paradise. + + Where Nature hath in store + Fowle, Venison, and Fish, + And the Fruitfull'st Soyle, + Without your Toyle, + Three Haruests more, + All greater then your Wish. 30 + + And the ambitious Vine + Crownes with his purple Masse, + The cedar reaching hie + To kisse the Sky + The Cypresse, Pine + And vse-full Sassafras. + + To whome, the golden Age + Still Natures lawes doth giue, + No other Cares that tend, + But Them to defend 40 + From Winters rage, + That long there doth not liue. + + When as the Lushious smell + Of that delicious Land, + Aboue the Seas that flowes, + The cleere Wind throwes, + Your Hearts to swell + Approaching the deare Strande. + + In kenning of the Shore + (Thanks to God first giuen,) 50 + O you the happy'st men, + Be Frolike then, + Let Cannons roare, + Frighting the wide Heauen. + + And in Regions farre + Such Heroes bring yee foorth, + As those from whom We came, + And plant Our name, + Vnder that Starre + Not knowne vnto our North. 60 + + And as there Plenty growes + Of Lawrell euery where, + APOLLO'S Sacred tree, + You may it see, + A Poets Browes + To crowne, that may sing there. + + Thy Voyages attend, + Industrious HACKLVIT, + Whose Reading shall inflame + Men to seeke Fame, 70 + And much commend + To after-Times thy Wit. + + +AN ODE WRITTEN IN THE PEAKE + + This while we are abroad, + Shall we not touch our Lyre? + Shall we not sing an ODE? + Shall that holy Fire, + In vs that strongly glow'd, + In this cold Ayre expire? + + Long since the Summer layd + Her lustie Brau'rie downe, + The Autumne halfe is way'd, + And BOREAS 'gins to frowne, 10 + Since now I did behold + Great BRVTES first builded Towne. + + Though in the vtmost _Peake_, + A while we doe remaine, + Amongst the Mountaines bleake + Expos'd to Sleet and Raine, + No Sport our Houres shall breake, + To exercise our Vaine. + + What though bright PHŒBVS Beames + Refresh the Southerne Ground, 20 + And though the Princely _Thames_ + With beautious Nymphs abound, + And by old _Camber's_ Streames + Be many Wonders found; + + Yet many Riuers cleare + Here glide in Siluer Swathes, + And what of all most deare, + _Buckston's_ delicious Bathes, + Strong Ale and Noble Cheare, + T' asswage breeme Winters scathes. 30 + + Those grim and horrid Caues, + Whose Lookes affright the day, + Wherein nice Nature saues, + What she would not bewray, + Our better leasure craues, + And doth inuite our Lay. + + In places farre or neere, + Or famous, or obscure, + Where wholesome is the Ayre, + Or where the most impure, 40 + All times, and euery-where, + The Muse is still in vre. + + +HIS DEFENCE AGAINST THE IDLE CRITICK + + The Ryme nor marres, nor makes, + Nor addeth it, nor takes, + From that which we propose; + Things imaginarie + Doe so strangely varie, + That quickly we them lose. + + And what 's quickly begot, + As soone againe is not, + This doe I truely know: + Yea, and what 's borne with paine, 10 + That Sense doth long'st retaine, + Gone with a greater Flow. + + Yet this Critick so sterne, + But whom, none must discerne, + Nor perfectly haue seeing, + Strangely layes about him, + As nothing without him + Were worthy of being. + + That I my selfe betray + To that most publique way, 20 + Where the Worlds old Bawd, + Custome, that doth humor, + And by idle rumor, + Her Dotages applaud. + + That whilst he still prefers + Those that be wholly hers, + Madnesse and Ignorance, + I creepe behind the Time, + From spertling with their Crime, + And glad too with my Chance. 30 + + O wretched World the while, + When the euill most vile, + Beareth the fayrest face, + And inconstant lightnesse, + With a scornefull slightnesse, + The best Things doth disgrace. + + Whilst this strange knowing Beast, + Man, of himselfe the least, + His Enuie declaring, + Makes Vertue to descend, 40 + Her title to defend, + Against him, much preparing. + + Yet these me not delude, + Nor from my place extrude, + By their resolued Hate; + Their vilenesse that doe know; + Which to my selfe I show, + To keepe aboue my Fate. + + +TO HIS RIVALL + + Her lou'd I most, + By thee that 's lost, + Though she were wonne with leasure; + She was my gaine, + But to my paine, + Thou spoyl'st me of my Treasure. + + The Ship full fraught + With Gold, farre sought, + Though ne'r so wisely helmed, + May suffer wracke 10 + In sayling backe, + By Tempest ouer-whelmed. + + But shee, good Sir, + Did not preferre + You, for that I was ranging; + But for that shee + Found faith in mee, + And she lou'd to be changing. + + Therefore boast not + Your happy Lot, 20 + Be silent now you haue her; + The time I knew + She slighted you, + When I was in her fauour. + + None stands so fast, + But may be cast + By Fortune, and disgraced: + Once did I weare + Her Garter there, + Where you her Gloue haue placed. 30 + + I had the Vow + That thou hast now, + And Glances to discouer + Her Loue to mee, + And she to thee + Reades but old Lessons ouer. + + She hath no Smile + That can beguile, + But as my Thought I know it; + Yea, to a Hayre, 40 + Both when and where, + And how she will bestow it. + + What now is thine, + Was onely mine, + And first to me was giuen; + Thou laugh'st at mee, + I laugh at thee, + And thus we two are euen. + + But Ile not mourne, + But stay my Turne, 50 + The Wind may come about, Sir, + And once againe + May bring me in, + And help to beare you out, Sir. + + +A SKELTONIAD + + The Muse should be sprightly, + Yet not handling lightly + Things graue; as much loath, + Things that be slight, to cloath + Curiously: To retayne + The Comelinesse in meane, + Is true Knowledge and Wit. + Not me forc'd Rage doth fit, + That I thereto should lacke + Tabacco, or need Sacke, 10 + Which to the colder Braine + Is the true _Hyppocrene_; + Nor did I euer care + For great Fooles, nor them spare. + Vertue, though neglected, + Is not so deiected, + As vilely to descend + To low Basenesse their end; + Neyther each ryming Slaue + Deserues the Name to haue 20 + Of Poet: so the Rabble + Of Fooles, for the Table, + That haue their Iests by Heart, + As an Actor his Part, + Might assume them Chayres + Amongst the Muses Heyres. + _Parnassus_ is not clome + By euery such Mome; + Vp whose steep side who swerues, + It behoues t' haue strong Nerues: 30 + My Resolution such, + How well, and not how much + To write, thus doe I fare, + Like some few good that care + (The euill sort among) + How well to liue, and not how long. + + +THE CRYER + + Good Folke, for Gold or Hyre, + But helpe me to a Cryer; + For my poore Heart is runne astray + After two Eyes, that pass'd this way. + O yes, O yes, O yes, + If there be any Man, + In Towne or Countrey, can + Bring me my Heart againe, + Ile please him for his paine; + And by these Marks I will you show, 10 + That onely I this Heart doe owe. + It is a wounded Heart, + Wherein yet sticks the Dart, + Eu'ry piece sore hurt throughout it, + Faith, and Troth, writ round about it: + It was a tame Heart, and a deare, + And neuer vs'd to roame; + But hauing got this Haunt, I feare + 'Twill hardly stay at home. + For Gods sake, walking by the way, 20 + If you my Heart doe see, + Either impound it for a Stray, + Or send it backe to me. + + +TO HIS COY LOVE + +A CANZONET + + I pray thee leaue, loue me no more, + Call home the Heart you gaue me, + I but in vaine that Saint adore, + That can, but will not saue me: + These poore halfe Kisses kill me quite; + Was euer man thus serued? + Amidst an Ocean of Delight, + For Pleasure to be sterued. + + Shew me no more those Snowie Brests, + With Azure Riuerets branched, 10 + Where whilst mine Eye with Plentie feasts, + Yet is my Thirst not stanched. + O TANTALVS, thy Paines n'er tell, + By me thou art preuented; + 'Tis nothing to be plagu'd in Hell, + But thus in Heauen tormented. + + Clip me no more in those deare Armes, + Nor thy Life's Comfort call me; + O, these are but too pow'rfull Charmes, + And doe but more inthrall me. 20 + But see, how patient I am growne, + In all this coyle about thee; + Come nice thing, let my Heart alone, + I cannot liue without thee. + + +A HYMNE TO HIS LADIES BIRTH-PLACE + + Couentry, that do'st adorne + The Countrey wherein I was borne, + Yet therein lyes not thy prayse + Why I should crowne thy Tow'rs with Bayes: +_Couentry finely 'Tis not thy Wall, me to thee weds +walled._ Thy Ports, nor thy proud Pyrameds, +_The Shoulder-bone Nor thy Trophies of the Bore, +of a hare of But that Shee which I adore, +mighty bignesse._ Which scarce Goodnesse selfe can payre, + First their breathing blest thy Ayre; 10 + IDEA, in which Name I hide + Her, in my heart Deifi'd, + For what good, Man's mind can see, + Onely her IDEAS be; + She, in whom the Vertues came + In Womans shape, and tooke her Name, + She so farre past Imitation, + As but Nature our Creation + Could not alter, she had aymed, + More then Woman to haue framed: 20 + She, whose truely written Story, + To thy poore Name shall adde more glory, + Then if it should haue beene thy Chance, + T' haue bred our Kings that Conquer'd _France_. + Had She beene borne the former Age, +_Two famous That house had beene a Pilgrimage, +Pilgrimages, the And reputed more Diuine, +one in_ Norfolk, Then _Walsingham_ or BECKETS Shrine. +_the other in_ That Princesse, to whom thou do'st owe +Kent. Thy Freedome, whose Cleere blushing snow, 30 +Godiua, _Duke_ The enuious Sunne saw, when as she +Leofricks _wife, Naked rode to make Thee free, +who obtained the Was but her Type, as to foretell, +Freedome of the Thou should'st bring forth one, should excell +city, of her Her Bounty, by whom thou should'st haue +husband, by riding More Honour, then she Freedome gaue; +thorow it naked._ And that great Queene, which but of late +_Queene_ Rul'd this Land in Peace and State, +Elizabeth. Had not beene, but Heauen had sworne, + A Maide should raigne, when she was borne. 40 +_A noted Streete Of thy Streets, which thou hold'st best, +in_ Couentry. And most frequent of the rest, + Happy _Mich-Parke_ eu'ry yeere, +_His Mistresse On the fourth of _August_ there, +birth-day._ Let thy Maides from FLORA'S bowers, + With their Choyce and daintiest flowers + Decke Thee vp, and from their store, + With braue Garlands crowne that dore. + The old Man passing by that way, + To his Sonne in time shall say, 50 + There was that Lady borne, which long + To after-Ages shall be sung; + Who vnawares being passed by, + Back to that House shall cast his Eye, + Speaking my Verses as he goes, + And with a Sigh shut eu'ry Close. + Deare Citie, trauelling by thee, + When thy rising Spyres I see, + Destined her place of Birth; + Yet me thinkes the very Earth 60 + Hallowed is, so farre as I + Can thee possibly descry: + Then thou dwelling in this place, + Hearing some rude Hinde disgrace + Thy Citie with some scuruy thing, + Which some Iester forth did bring, + Speake these Lines where thou do'st come, + And strike the Slaue for euer dumbe. + + +TO THE CAMBRO-BRITANS and their Harpe, his Ballad of +AGINCOVRT + + Faire stood the Wind for _France_, + When we our Sayles aduance, + Nor now to proue our chance, + Longer will tarry; + But putting to the Mayne, + At _Kaux_, the Mouth of _Sene_, + With all his Martiall Trayne, + Landed King HARRY. + + And taking many a Fort, + Furnish'd in Warlike sort, 10 + Marcheth tow'rds _Agincourt_, + In happy howre; + Skirmishing day by day, + With those that stop'd his way, + Where the _French_ Gen'rall lay, + With all his Power. + + Which in his Hight of Pride, + King HENRY to deride, + His Ransome to prouide + To the King sending. 20 + Which he neglects the while, + As from a Nation vile, + Yet with an angry smile, + Their fall portending. + + And turning to his Men, + Quoth our braue HENRY then, + Though they to one be ten, + Be not amazed. + Yet haue we well begunne, + Battels so brauely wonne, 30 + Haue euer to the Sonne, + By Fame beene raysed. + + And, for my Selfe (quoth he), + This my full rest shall be, + _England_ ne'r mourne for Me, + Nor more esteeme me. + Victor I will remaine, + Or on this Earth lie slaine, + Neuer shall Shee sustaine, + Losse to redeeme me. 40 + + _Poiters_ and _Cressy_ tell, + When most their Pride did swell, + Vnder our Swords they fell, + No lesse our skill is, + Than when our Grandsire Great, + Clayming the Regall Seate, + By many a Warlike feate, + Lop'd the _French_ Lillies. + + The Duke of _Yorke_ so dread, + The eager Vaward led; 50 + With the maine, HENRY sped, + Among'st his Hench-men. + EXCESTER had the Rere, + A Brauer man not there, + O Lord, how hot they were, + On the false _French-men_! + + They now to fight are gone, + Armour on Armour shone, + Drumme now to Drumme did grone, + To heare, was wonder; 60 + That with the Cryes they make, + The very Earth did shake, + Trumpet to Trumpet spake, + Thunder to Thunder. + + Well it thine Age became, + O Noble ERPINGHAM, + Which didst the Signall ayme, + To our hid Forces; + When from a Medow by, + Like a Storme suddenly, 70 + The _English_ Archery + Stuck the _French_ Horses, + + With _Spanish_ Ewgh so strong, + Arrowes a Cloth-yard long, + That like to Serpents stung, + Piercing the Weather; + None from his fellow starts, + But playing Manly parts, + And like true _English_ hearts, + Stuck close together. 80 + + When downe their Bowes they threw, + And forth their Bilbowes drew, + And on the French they flew, + Not one was tardie; + Armes were from shoulders sent, + Scalpes to the Teeth were rent, + Downe the _French_ Pesants went, + Our Men were hardie. + + This while our Noble King, + His broad Sword brandishing, 90 + Downe the _French_ Hoast did ding, + As to o'r-whelme it; + And many a deepe Wound lent, + His Armes with Bloud besprent, + And many a cruell Dent + Bruised his Helmet. + + GLOSTER, that Duke so good, + Next of the Royall Blood, + For famous _England_ stood, + With his braue Brother; 100 + CLARENCE, in Steele so bright, + Though but a Maiden Knight, + Yet in that furious Fight, + Scarce such another, + + WARWICK in Bloud did wade, + OXFORD the Foe inuade, + And cruell slaughter made, + Still as they ran vp; + SVFFOLKE his Axe did ply, + BEAVMONT and WILLOVGHBY 110 + Bare them right doughtily, + FERRERS and FANHOPE. + + Vpon Saint CRISPIN'S day + Fought was this Noble Fray, + Which Fame did not delay, + To _England_ to carry; + O, when shall _English_ Men + With such Acts fill a Pen, + Or _England_ breed againe, + Such a King HARRY? 120 + + + + +[from the Edition of 1606] + + +_Ode 4_ + +_To my worthy frend, Master John Sauage of the Inner Temple_ + + Vppon this sinfull earth + If man can happy be, + And higher then his birth, + (Frend) take him thus from me. + + Whome promise not deceiues + That he the breach should rue, + Nor constant reason leaues + Opinion to pursue. + + To rayse his mean estate + That sooths no wanton's sinne, 10 + Doth that preferment hate + That virtue doth not winne. + + Nor brauery doth admire, + Nor doth more loue professe + To that he doth desire, + Then that he doth possesse. + + Loose humor nor to please, + That neither spares nor spends, + But by discretion weyes + What is to needfull ends. 20 + + To him deseruing not + Not yeelding, nor doth hould + What is not his, doing what + He ought not what he could. + + Whome the base tyrants will + Soe much could neuer awe + As him for good or ill + From honesty to drawe. + + Whose constancy doth rise + 'Boue vndeserued spight 30 + Whose valewr's to despise + That most doth him delight. + + That earely leaue doth take + Of th' world though to his payne + For virtues onely sake + And not till need constrayne. + + Noe man can be so free + Though in imperiall seate + Nor Eminent as he + That deemeth nothing greate. 40 + + +_Ode 8_ + + Singe wee the Rose + Then which no flower there growes + Is sweeter: + And aptly her compare + With what in that is rare + A parallel none meeter. + + Or made poses, + Of this that incloses + Suche blisses, + That naturally flusheth 10 + As she blusheth + When she is robd of kisses. + + Or if strew'd + When with the morning dew'd + Or stilling, + Or howe to sense expos'd + All which in her inclos'd, + Ech place with sweetnes filling. + + That most renown'd + By Nature richly crownd 20 + With yellow, + Of that delitious layre + And as pure, her hayre + Vnto the same the fellowe, + + Fearing of harme + Nature that flower doth arme + From danger, + The touch giues her offence + But with reuerence + Vnto her selfe a stranger. 30 + + That redde, or white, + Or mixt, the sence delyte + Behoulding, + In her complexion + All which perfection + Such harmony infouldinge. + + That deuyded + Ere it was descided + Which most pure, + Began the greeuous war 40 + Of _York_ and _Lancaster_, + That did many yeeres indure. + + Conflicts as greate + As were in all that heate + I sustaine: + By her, as many harts + As men on either parts + That with her eies hath slaine. + + The Primrose flower + The first of _Flora's_ bower 50 + Is placed, + Soo is shee first as best + Though excellent the rest, + All gracing, by none graced. + + + + +ELEGIES VPON SVNDRY OCCASIONS + +[from the Edition of 1627] + + +Of his Ladies not Comming _to London_ + + That ten-yeares-trauell'd _Greeke_ return'd from Sea + Ne'r ioyd so much to see his _Ithaca_, + As I should you, who are alone to me, + More then wide _Greece_ could to that wanderer be. + The winter windes still Easterly doe keepe, + And with keene Frosts haue chained vp the deepe, + The Sunne's to vs a niggard of his Rayes, + But reuelleth with our _Antipodes_; + And seldome to vs when he shewes his head, + Muffled in vapours, he straight hies to bed. 10 + In those bleake mountaines can you liue where snowe + Maketh the vales vp to the hilles to growe; + Whereas mens breathes doe instantly congeale, + And attom'd mists turne instantly to hayle; + Belike you thinke, from this more temperate cost, + My sighes may haue the power to thawe the frost, + Which I from hence should swiftly send you thither, + Yet not so swift, as you come slowly hither. + How many a time, hath _Phebe_ from her wayne, + With _Phœbus_ fires fill'd vp her hornes againe; 20 + Shee through her Orbe, still on her course doth range, + But you keep yours still, nor for me will change. + The Sunne that mounted the sterne Lions back, + Shall with the Fishes shortly diue the Brack, + But still you keepe your station, which confines + You, nor regard him trauelling the signes. + Those ships which when you went, put out to Sea, + Both to our _Groenland_, and _Virginia_, + Are now return'd, and Custom'd haue their fraught, + Yet you arriue not, nor returne me ought. 30 + The Thames was not so frozen yet this yeare, + As is my bosome, with the chilly feare + Of your not comming, which on me doth light, + As on those Climes, where halfe the world is night. + Of euery tedious houre you haue made two, + All this long Winter here, by missing you: + Minutes are months, and when the houre is past, + A yeare is ended since the Clocke strooke last, + When your Remembrance puts me on the Racke, + And I should Swound to see an _Almanacke_, 40 + To reade what silent weekes away are slid, + Since the dire Fates you from my sight haue hid. + I hate him who the first Deuisor was + Of this same foolish thing, the Hower-glasse, + And of the Watch, whose dribbling sands and Wheele, + With their slow stroakes, make mee too much to feele + Your slackenesse hither, O how I doe ban, + Him that these Dialls against walles began, + Whose Snayly motion of the moouing hand, + (Although it goe) yet seeme to me to stand; 50 + As though at _Adam_ it had first set out + And had been stealing all this while about, + And when it backe to the first point should come, + It shall be then iust at the generall Doome. + The Seas into themselues retract their flowes. + The changing Winde from euery quarter blowes, + Declining Winter in the Spring doth call, + The Starrs rise to vs, as from vs they fall; + Those Birdes we see, that leaue vs in the Prime, + Againe in Autumne re-salute our Clime. 60 + Sure, either Nature you from kinde hath made, + Or you delight else to be Retrograde. + But I perceiue by your attractiue powers, + Like an Inchantresse you haue charm'd the bowers + Into short minutes, and haue drawne them back, + So that of vs at _London_, you doe lack + Almost a yeare, the Spring is scarce begonne + There where you liue, and Autumne almost done. + With vs more Eastward, surely you deuise, + By your strong Magicke, that the Sunne shall rise 70 + Where now it setts, and that in some few yeares + You'l alter quite the Motion of the Spheares. + Yes, and you meane, I shall complaine my loue + To grauell'd Walkes, or to a stupid Groue, + Now your companions; and that you the while + (As you are cruell) will sit by and smile, + To make me write to these, while Passers by, + Sleightly looke in your louely face, where I + See Beauties heauen, whilst silly blockheads, they + Like laden Asses, plod vpon their way, 80 + And wonder not, as you should point a Clowne + Vp to the _Guards_, or _Ariadnes_ Crowne; + Of Constellations, and his dulnesse tell. + Hee'd thinke your words were certainly a Spell; + Or him some piece from _Creet_, or _Marcus_ show, + In all his life which till that time ne'r saw + Painting: except in Alehouse or old Hall + Done by some Druzzler, of the Prodigall. + Nay doe, stay still, whilst time away shall steale + Your youth, and beautie, and your selfe conceale 90 + From me I pray you, you haue now inur'd + Me to your absence, and I haue endur'd + Your want this long, whilst I haue starued bine + For your short Letters, as you helde it sinne + To write to me, that to appease my woe, + I reade ore those, you writ a yeare agoe, + Which are to me, as though they had bin made, + Long time before the first _Olympiad_. + For thankes and curt'sies sell your presence then + To tatling Women, and to things like men, 100 + And be more foolish then the _Indians_ are + For Bells, for Kniues, for Glasses, and such ware, + That sell their Pearle and Gold, but here I stay, + So I would not haue you but come away. + + +To Master GEORGE SANDYS + +_Treasurer for the English Colony in_ VIRGINIA + + Friend, if you thinke my Papers may supplie + You, with some strange omitted Noueltie, + Which others Letters yet haue left vntould, + You take me off, before I can take hould + Of you at all; I put not thus to Sea, + For two monthes Voyage to _Virginia_, + With newes which now, a little something here, + But will be nothing ere it can come there. + I feare, as I doe Stabbing; this word, State, + I dare not speake of the _Palatinate_, 10 + Although some men make it their hourely theame, + And talke what's done in _Austria_, and in _Beame_, + I may not so; what _Spinola_ intends, + Nor with his _Dutch_, which way Prince _Maurice_ bends; + To other men, although these things be free, + Yet (GEORGE) they must be misteries to mee. + I scarce dare praise a vertuous friend that's dead, + Lest for my lines he should be censured; + It was my hap before all other men + To suffer shipwrack by my forward pen: 20 + When King IAMES entred; at which ioyfull time + I taught his title to this Ile in rime: + And to my part did all the Muses win, + With high-pitch _Pæans_ to applaud him in: + When cowardise had tyed vp euery tongue, + And all stood silent, yet for him I sung; + And when before by danger I was dar'd, + I kick'd her from me, nor a iot I spar'd. + Yet had not my cleere spirit in Fortunes scorne, + Me aboue earth and her afflictions borne; 30 + He next my God on whom I built my trust, + Had left me troden lower then the dust: + But let this passe; in the extreamest ill, + _Apollo's_ brood must be couragious still, + Let Pies, and Dawes, sit dumb before their death, + Onely the Swan sings at the parting breath. + And (worthy GEORGE) by industry and vse, + Let's see what lines _Virginia_ will produce; + Goe on with OVID, as you haue begunne, + With the first fiue Bookes; let your numbers run 40 + Glib as the former, so shall it liue long, + And doe much honour to the _English_ tongue: + Intice the Muses thither to repaire, + Intreat them gently, trayne them to that ayre, + For they from hence may thither hap to fly, + T'wards the sad time which but to fast doth hie, + For Poesie is follow'd with such spight, + By groueling drones that neuer raught her height, + That she must hence, she may no longer staye: + The driery fates prefixed haue the day, 50 + Of her departure, which is now come on, + And they command her straight wayes to be gon; + That bestiall heard so hotly her pursue, + And to her succour, there be very few, + Nay none at all, her wrongs that will redresse, + But she must wander in the wildernesse, + Like to the woman, which that holy IOHN + Beheld in _Pathmos_ in his vision. + As th' _English_ now, so did the stiff-neckt _Iewes_, + Their noble Prophets vtterly refuse, 60 + And of these men such poore opinions had; + They counted _Esay_ and _Ezechiel_ mad; + When _Ieremy_ his Lamentations writ, + They thought the Wizard quite out of his wit, + Such sots they were, as worthily to ly, + Lock't in the chaines of their captiuity, + Knowledge hath still her Eddy in her Flow, + So it hath beene, and it will still be so. + That famous _Greece_ where learning flourisht most, + Hath of her muses long since left to boast, 70 + Th' vnlettered _Turke_, and rude _Barbarian_ trades, + Where HOMER sang his lofty _Iliads_; + And this vaste volume of the world hath taught, + Much may to passe in little time be brought. + As if to _Symptoms_ we may credit giue, + This very time, wherein we two now liue, + Shall in the compasse, wound the Muses more, + Then all the old _English_ ignorance before; + Base Balatry is so belou'd and sought, + And those braue numbers are put by for naught, 80 + Which rarely read, were able to awake, + Bodyes from graues, and to the ground to shake + The wandring clouds, and to our men at armes, + 'Gainst pikes and muskets were most powerfull charmes. + That, but I know, insuing ages shall, + Raise her againe, who now is in her fall; + And out of dust reduce our scattered rimes, + Th' reiected iewels of these slothfull times, + Who with the Muses would misspend an hower, + But let blind Gothish Barbarisme deuoure 90 + These feuerous Dogdays, blest by no record, + But to be euerlastingly abhord. + If you vouchsafe rescription, stuffe your quill + With naturall bountyes, and impart your skill, + In the description of the place, that I, + May become learned in the soyle thereby; + Of noble _Wyats_ health, and let me heare, + The Gouernour; and how our people there, + Increase and labour, what supplyes are sent, + Which I confesse shall giue me much content; 100 + But you may saue your labour if you please, + To write to me ought of your Sauages. + As sauage slaues be in great _Britaine_ here, + As any one that you can shew me there + And though for this, Ile say I doe not thirst, + Yet I should like it well to be the first, + Whose numbers hence into _Virginia_ flew, + So (noble _Sandis_) for this time adue. + + +To my noble friend Master WILLIAM BROWNE, _of the euill time_ + + Deare friend, be silent and with patience see, + What this mad times Catastrophe will be; + The worlds first Wisemen certainly mistooke + Themselues, and spoke things quite beside the booke, + And that which they haue of said of God, vntrue, + Or else expect strange iudgement to insue. + This Isle is a meere Bedlam, and therein, + We all lye rauing, mad in euery sinne, + And him the wisest most men use to call, + Who doth (alone) the maddest thing of all; 10 + He whom the master of all wisedome found, + For a marckt foole, and so did him propound, + The time we liue in, to that passe is brought, + That only he a Censor now is thought; + And that base villaine, (not an age yet gone,) + Which a good man would not haue look'd vpon; + Now like a God, with diuine worship follow'd, + And all his actions are accounted hollow'd. + This world of ours, thus runneth vpon wheeles, + Set on the head, bolt vpright with her heeles; 20 + Which makes me thinke of what the _Ethnicks_ told + Th' opinion, the Pythagorists vphold, +Wander That the immortall soule doth transmigrate; +From body Then I suppose by the strong power of fate, +to body. And since that time now many a lingering yeare, + Through fools, and beasts, and lunatiques haue past, + Are heere imbodyed in this age at last, + And though so long we from that time be gone, + Yet taste we still of that confusion. + For certainely there's scarse one found that now, 30 + Knowes what t' approoue, or what to disallow, + All arsey varsey, nothing is it's owne, + But to our prouerbe, all turnd vpside downe; + To doe in time, is to doe out of season, + And that speeds best, thats done the farth'st from reason, + Hee 's high'st that 's low'st, hee 's surest in that 's out, + He hits the next way that goes farth'st about, + He getteth vp vnlike to rise at all, + He slips to ground as much vnlike to fall; + Which doth inforce me partly to prefer, 40 +_Zeno._ The opinion of that mad Philosopher, + Who taught, that those all-framing powers aboue, + (As 'tis suppos'd) made man not out of loue + To him at all, but only as a thing, + To make them sport with, which they vse to bring + As men doe munkeys, puppets, and such tooles + Of laughter: so men are but the Gods fooles. + Such are by titles lifted to the sky, + As wherefore no man knowes, God scarcely why; + The vertuous man depressed like a stone, 50 + For that dull Sot to raise himselfe vpon; + He who ne're thing yet worthy man durst doe, + Neuer durst looke vpon his countrey's foe, + Nor durst attempt that action which might get + Him fame with men: or higher might him set + Then the base begger (rightly if compar'd;) + This Drone yet neuer braue attempt that dar'd, + Yet dares be knighted, and from thence dares grow + To any title Empire can bestow; + For this beleeue, that Impudence is now 60 + A Cardinall vertue, and men it allow + Reuerence, nay more, men study and inuent + New wayes, nay, glory to be impudent. + Into the clouds the Deuill lately got, + And by the moisture doubting much the rot, + A medicine tooke to make him purge and cast; + Which in short time began to worke so fast, + That he fell too 't, and from his backeside flew, + A rout of rascall a rude ribauld crew + Of base Plebeians, which no sooner light, 70 + Vpon the earth, but with a suddaine flight, + They spread this Ile, and as _Deucalion_ once + Ouer his shoulder backe, by throwing stones + They became men, euen so these beasts became, + Owners of titles from an obscure name. + He that by riot, of a mighty rent, + Hath his late goodly Patrimony spent, + And into base and wilfull beggery run + This man as he some glorious acte had done, + With some great pension, or rich guift releeu'd, 80 + When he that hath by industry atchieu'd + Some noble thing, contemned and disgrac'd, + In the forlorne hope of the times is plac'd, + As though that God had carelessely left all + That being hath on this terrestriall ball, + To fortunes guiding, nor would haue to doe + With man, nor aught that doth belong him to, + Or at the least God hauing giuen more + Power to the Deuill, then he did of yore, + Ouer this world: the feind as he doth hate 90 + The vertuous man; maligning his estate, + All noble things, and would haue by his will, + To be damn'd with him, vsing all his skill, + By his blacke hellish ministers to vexe + All worthy men, and strangely to perplexe + Their constancie, there by them so to fright, + That they should yeeld them wholely to his might. + But of these things I vainely doe but tell, + Where hell is heauen, and heau'n is now turn'd hell; + Where that which lately blasphemy hath bin, 100 + Now godlinesse, much lesse accounted sin; + And a long while I greatly meruail'd why + Buffoons and Bawdes should hourely multiply, + Till that of late I construed it that they + To present thrift had got the perfect way, + When I concluded by their odious crimes, + It was for vs no thriuing in these times. + As men oft laugh at little Babes, when they + Hap to behold some strange thing in their play, + To see them on the suddaine strucken sad, 110 + As in their fancie some strange formes they had, + Which they by pointing with their fingers showe, + Angry at our capacities so slowe, + That by their countenance we no sooner learne + To see the wonder which they so discerne: + So the celestiall powers doe sit and smile + At innocent and vertuous men the while, + They stand amazed at the world ore-gone, + So farre beyond imagination, + With slauish basenesse, that the silent sit 120 + Pointing like children in describing it. + Then noble friend the next way to controule + These worldly crosses, is to arme thy soule + With constant patience: and with thoughts as high + As these be lowe, and poore, winged to flye + To that exalted stand, whether yet they + Are got with paine, that sit out of the way + Of this ignoble age, which raiseth none + But such as thinke their black damnation + To be a trifle; such, so ill, that when 130 + They are aduanc'd, those few poore honest men + That yet are liuing, into search doe runne + To finde what mischiefe they haue lately done, + Which so preferres them; say thou he doth rise, + That maketh vertue his chiefe exercise. + And in this base world come what euer shall, + Hees worth lamenting, that for her doth fall. + + +Vpon the three Sonnes of the Lord SHEFFIELD, _drowned in +HVMBER_ + + Light Sonnets hence, and to loose Louers flie, + And mournfull Maydens sing an Elegie + On those three SHEFFIELDS, ouer-whelm'd with waues, + Whose losse the teares of all the Muses craues; + A thing so full of pitty as this was, + Me thinkes for nothing should not slightly passe. + Treble this losse was, why should it not borrowe, + Through this Iles treble parts, a treble sorrowe: + But Fate did this, to let the world to knowe, + That sorrowes which from common causes growe, 10 + Are not worth mourning for, the losse to beare, + But of one onely sonne, 's not worth one teare. + Some tender-hearted man, as I, may spend + Some drops (perhaps) for a deceased friend. + Some men (perhaps) their Wifes late death may rue; + Or Wifes their Husbands, but such be but fewe. + Cares that haue vs'd the hearts of men to tuch + So oft, and deepely, will not now be such; + Who'll care for loss of maintenance, or place, + Fame, liberty, or of the Princes grace; 20 + Or sutes in law, by base corruption crost, + When he shall finde, that this which he hath lost, + Alas, is nothing to his, which did lose, + Three sonnes at once so excellent as those: + Nay, it is feard that this in time may breed + Hard hearts in men to their owne naturall seed; + That in respect of this great losse of theirs, + Men will scarce mourne the death of their owne heires. + Through all this Ile their losse so publique is, + That euery man doth take them to be his, 30 + And as a plague which had beginning there, + So catching is, and raigning euery where, + That those the farthest off as much doe rue them, + As those the most familiarly that knew them; + Children with this disaster are wext sage, + And like to men that strucken are in age; + Talke what it is, three children at one time + Thus to haue drown'd, and in their very prime; + Yea, and doe learne to act the same so well, + That then olde folke, they better can it tell. 40 + Inuention, oft that Passion vs'd to faine, + In sorrowes of themselves but slight, and meane, + To make them seeme great, here it shall not need, + For that this Subiect doth so farre exceed + All forc'd Expression, that what Poesie shall + Happily thinke to grace it selfe withall, + Falls so belowe it, that it rather borrowes + Grace from their griefe, then addeth to their sorrowes, + For sad mischance thus in the losse of three, + To shewe it selfe the vtmost it could bee: 50 + Exacting also by the selfe same lawe, + The vtmost teares that sorrowe had to drawe + All future times hath vtterly preuented + Of a more losse, or more to be lamented. + Whilst in faire youth they liuely flourish'd here, + To their kinde Parents they were onely deere: + But being dead, now euery one doth take + Them for their owne, and doe like sorrowe make: + As for their owne begot, as they pretended + Hope in the issue, which should haue discended 60 + From them againe; nor here doth end our sorrow, + But those of vs, that shall be borne to morrowe + Still shall lament them, and when time shall count, + To what vast number passed yeares shall mount, + They from their death shall duly reckon so, + As from the Deluge, former vs'd to doe. + O cruell _Humber_ guilty of their gore, + I now beleeue more then I did before + The _Brittish_ Story, whence thy name begun + Of Kingly _Humber_, an inuading _Hun_, 70 + By thee deuoured, for't is likely thou + With blood wert Christned, bloud-thirsty till now. + The _Ouse_, the _Done_, and thou farre clearer _Trent_, + To drowne the SHEFFIELDS as you gaue consent, + Shall curse the time, that ere you were infus'd, + Which haue your waters basely thus abus'd. + The groueling Boore yee hinder not to goe, + And at his pleasure Ferry to and fro. + The very best part of whose soule, and bloud, + Compared with theirs, is viler then your mud. 80 + But wherefore paper, doe I idely spend, + On those deafe waters to so little end, + And vp to starry heauen doe I not looke, + In which, as in an euerlasting booke, + Our ends are written; O let times rehearse + Their fatall losse, in their sad Aniuerse. + + +To the noble Lady, the Lady I.S. _of worldly crosses_ + + Madame, to shew the smoothnesse of my vaine, + Neither that I would haue you entertaine + The time in reading me, which you would spend + In faire discourse with some knowne honest friend, + I write not to you. Nay, and which is more, + My powerfull verses striue not to restore, + What time and sicknesse haue in you impair'd, + To other ends my Elegie is squar'd. + Your beauty, sweetnesse, and your gracefull parts + That haue drawne many eyes, wonne many hearts, 10 + Of me get little, I am so much man, + That let them doe their vtmost that they can, + I will resist their forces: and they be + Though great to others, yet not so to me. + The first time I beheld you, I then sawe + That (in it selfe) which had the power to drawe + My stayd affection, and thought to allowe + You some deale of my heart; but you have now + Got farre into it, and you haue the skill + (For ought I see) to winne vpon me still. 20 + When I doe thinke how brauely you haue borne + Your many crosses, as in Fortunes scorne, + And how neglectfull you have seem'd to be, + Of that which hath seem'd terrible to me, + I thought you stupid, nor that you had felt + Those griefes which (often) I haue scene to melt + Another woman into sighes and teares, + A thing but seldome in your sexe and yeares, + But when in you I haue perceiu'd agen, + (Noted by me, more then by other men) 30 + How feeling and how sensible you are + Of your friends sorrowes, and with how much care + You seeke to cure them, then my selfe I blame, + That I your patience should so much misname, + Which to my vnderstanding maketh knowne + Who feeles anothers griefe, can feele their owne. + When straight me thinkes, I heare your patience say, + Are you the man that studied _Seneca_: + _Plinies_ most learned letters; and must I + Read you a Lecture in Philosophie, 40 + T'auoid the afflictions that haue vs'd to reach you; + I'le learne you more, Sir, then your bookes can teach you. + Of all your sex, yet neuer did I knowe, + Any that yet so actually could showe + Such rules for patience, such an easie way, + That who so sees it, shall be forc'd to say, + Loe what before seem'd hard to be discern'd, + Is of this Lady, in an instant learn'd. + It is heauens will that you should wronged be + By the malicious, that the world might see 50 + Your Doue-like meekenesse; for had the base scumme, + The spawne of Fiends, beene in your slander dumbe, + Your vertue then had perish'd, neuer priz'd, + For that the same you had not exercised; + And you had lost the Crowne you haue, and glory, + Nor had you beene the subiect of my Story. + Whilst they feele Hell, being damned in their hate, + Their thoughts like Deuils them excruciate, + Which by your noble suffrings doe torment + Them with new paines, and giues you this content 60 + To see your soule an Innocent, hath suffred, + And vp to heauen before your eyes be offred: + Your like we in a burning Glasse may see, + When the Sunnes rayes therein contracted be + Bent on some obiect, which is purely white, + We finde that colour doth dispierce the light, + And stands vntainted: but if it hath got + Some little sully; or the least small spot, + Then it soon fiers it; so you still remaine + Free, because in you they can finde no staine. 70 + God doth not loue them least, on whom he layes + The great'st afflictions; but that he will praise + Himselfe most in them, and will make them fit, + Near'st to himselfe who is the Lambe to sit: + For by that touch, like perfect gold he tries them, + Who are not his, vntill the world denies them. + And your example may work such effect, + That it may be the beginning of a Sect + Of patient women; and that many a day + All Husbands may for you their Founder pray. 80 + Nor is to me your Innocence the lesse, + In that I see you striue not to suppresse + Their barbarous malice; but your noble heart + Prepar'd to act so difficult a part, + With vnremoued constancie is still + The same it was, that of your proper ill, + The effect proceeds from your owne selfe the cause, + Like some iust Prince, who to establish lawes, + Suffers the breach at his best lou'd to strike, + To learne the vulgar to endure the like. 90 + You are a Martir thus, nor can you be + Lesse to the world so valued by me: + If as you haue begun, you still perseuer + Be euer good, that I may loue you euer. + + +An Elegie vpon the death of the Lady PENELOPE CLIFTON + + Must I needes write, who's hee that can refuse, + He wants a minde, for her that hath no Muse, + The thought of her doth heau'nly rage inspire, + Next powerfull, to those clouen tongues of fire. + Since I knew ought time neuer did allowe + Me stuffe fit for an Elegie, till now; + When _France_ and _England's_ HENRIES dy'd, my quill, + Why, I know not, but it that time lay still. + 'Tis more then greatnesse that my spirit must raise, + To obserue custome I vse not to praise; 10 + Nor the least thought of mine yet ere depended, + On any one from whom she was descended; + That for their fauour I this way should wooe, + As some poor wretched things (perhaps) may doe; + I gaine the end, whereat I onely ayme, + If by my freedome, I may giue her fame. + Walking then forth being newly vp from bed, + O Sir (quoth one) the Lady CLIFTON'S dead. + When, but that reason my sterne rage withstood, + My hand had sure beene guilty of his blood. 20 + If shee be so, must thy rude tongue confesse it + (Quoth I) and com'st so coldly to expresse it. + Thou shouldst haue giuen a shreeke, to make me feare thee; + That might haue slaine what euer had beene neere thee. + Thou shouldst haue com'n like Time with thy scalpe bare, + And in thy hands thou shouldst haue brought thy haire, + Casting vpon me such a dreadfull looke, + As seene a spirit, or th'adst beene thunder-strooke, + And gazing on me so a little space, + Thou shouldst haue shot thine eye balls in my face, 30 + Then falling at my feet, thou shouldst haue said, + O she is gone, and Nature with her dead. + With this ill newes amaz'd by chance I past, + By that neere Groue, whereas both first and last, + I saw her, not three moneths before shee di'd. + When (though full Summer gan to vaile her pride, + And that I sawe men leade home ripened Corne, + Besides aduis'd me well,) I durst haue sworne + The lingring yeare, the Autumne had adiourn'd, + And the fresh Spring had beene againe return'd, 40 + Her delicacie, louelinesse, and grace, + With such a Summer brauery deckt the place: + But now alas, it lookt forlorne and dead; + And where she stood, the fading leaues were shed, + Presenting onely sorrowe to my sight, + O God (thought I) this is her Embleme right. + And sure I thinke it cannot but be thought, + That I to her by prouidence was brought. + For that the Fates fore-dooming, shee should die, + Shewed me this wondrous Master peece, that I 50 + Should sing her Funerall, that the world should know it, + That heauen did thinke her worthy of a Poet; + My hand is fatall, nor doth fortune doubt, + For what it writes, not fire shall ere race out. + A thousand silken Puppets should haue died, + And in their fulsome Coffins putrified, + Ere in my lines, you of their names should heare + To tell the world that such there euer were, + Whose memory shall from the earth decay, + Before those Rags be worne they gaue away: 60 + Had I her god-like features neuer seene, + Poore slight Report had tolde me she had beene + A hansome Lady, comely, very well, + And so might I haue died an Infidell, + As many doe which neuer did her see, + Or cannot credit, what she was, by mee. + Nature, her selfe, that before Art prefers + To goe beyond all our Cosmographers, + By Charts and Maps exactly that haue showne, + All of this earth that euer can be knowne, 70 + For that she would beyond them all descrie + What Art could not by any mortall eye; + A Map of heauen in her rare features drue, + And that she did so liuely and so true, + That any soule but seeing it might sweare + That all was perfect heauenly that was there. + If euer any Painter were so blest, + To drawe that face, which so much heau'n exprest, + If in his best of skill he did her right, + I wish it neuer may come in my sight, 80 + I greatly doubt my faith (weake man) lest I + Should to that face commit Idolatry. + Death might haue tyth'd her sex, but for this one, + Nay, haue ta'n halfe to haue let her alone; + Such as their wrinkled temples to supply, + Cyment them vp with sluttish _Mercury_, + Such as vndrest were able to affright, + A valiant man approching him by night; + Death might haue taken such, her end deferd, + Vntill the time she had beene climaterd; 90 + When she would haue bin at threescore yeares and three, + Such as our best at three and twenty be, + With enuie then, he might haue ouerthrowne her, + When age nor time had power to ceaze vpon her. + But when the vnpittying Fates her end decreed, + They to the same did instantly proceed, + For well they knew (if she had languish'd so) + As those which hence by naturall causes goe, + So many prayers, and teares for her had spoken, + As certainly their Iron lawes had broken, 100 + And had wak'd heau'n, who clearely would haue show'd + That change of Kingdomes to her death it ow'd; + And that the world still of her end might thinke, + It would haue let some Neighbouring mountaine sinke. + Or the vast Sea it in on vs to cast, + As _Seuerne_ did about some fiue yeares past: + Or some sterne Comet his curld top to reare, + Whose length should measure halfe our Hemisphere. + Holding this height, to say some will not sticke, + That now I raue, and am growne lunatique: 110 + You of what sexe so ere you be, you lye, + 'Tis thou thy selfe is lunatique, not I. + I charge you in her name that now is gone, + That may coniure you, if you be not stone, + That you no harsh, nor shallow rimes decline, + Vpon that day wherein you shall read mine. + Such as indeed are falsely termed verse, + And will but sit like mothes vpon her herse; + Nor that no child, nor chambermaide, nor page, + Disturbe the Rome, the whilst my sacred rage, 120 + In reading is; but whilst you heare it read, + Suppose, before you, that you see her dead, + The walls about you hung with mournfull blacke, + And nothing of her funerall to lacke, + And when this period giues you leaue to pause, + Cast vp your eyes, and sigh for my applause. + + +Vpon the noble Lady ASTONS _departure for Spaine_ + + I many a time haue greatly marueil'd, why + Men say, their friends depart when as they die, + How well that word, a dying, doth expresse, + I did not know (I freely must confesse,) + Till her departure: for whose missed sight, + I am enforc'd this Elegy to write: + But since resistlesse fate will haue it so, + That she from hence must to _Iberia_ goe, + And my weak wishes can her not detaine, + I will of heauen in policy complaine, 10 + That it so long her trauell should adiourne, + Hoping thereby to hasten her returne. +The witches Can those of _Norway_ for their wage procure, +of the By their blacke spells a winde that shall endure +Northerly Till from aboard the wished land men see, +legions sell And fetch the harbour, where they long to be, +windes to Can they by charmes doe this and cannot I +passengers. Who am the Priest of _Phœbus_, and so hie, + Sit in his fauour, winne the Poets god, + To send swift _Hermes_ with his snaky rod, 20 + To _Æolus_ Caue, commanding him with care, + His prosperous winds, that he for her prepare, + And from that howre, wherein shee takes the seas, + Nature bring on the quiet _Halcion_ dayes, + And in that hower that bird begin her nest, + Nay at that very instant, that long rest + May seize on _Neptune_, who may still repose, + And let that bird nere till that hower disclose, + Wherein she landeth, and for all that space + Be not a wrinkle seene on _Thetis_ face, 30 + Onely so much breath with a gentle gale, + As by the easy swelling of her saile, +The nearest May at *_Sebastians_ safely set her downe +Harbour of Where, with her goodnes she may blesse the towne. +_Spaine_. If heauen in iustice would haue plagu'd by thee + Some Pirate, and grimme _Neptune_ thou should'st be + His Executioner, or what is his worse, + The gripple Merchant, borne to be the curse + Of this braue Iland; let them for her sake, + Who to thy safeguard doth her selfe betake, 40 + Escape vndrown'd, vnwrackt, nay rather let + Them be at ease in some safe harbour set, + Where with much profit they may vent their wealth + That they haue got by villany and stealth, + Rather great _Neptune_, then when thou dost raue, + Thou once shouldst wet her saile but with a waue. + Or if some proling Rouer shall but dare, + To seize the ship wherein she is to fare, + Let the fell fishes of the Maine appeare, + And tell those Sea-thiefes, that once such they were 50 + As they are now, till they assaid to rape +An Ile for Grape-crowned _Bacchus_ in a striplings shape, +the abundance That came aboard them, and would faine haue saild, +of wine To vine-spread *_Naxus_ but that him they faild, +supposed to Which he perceiuing, them so monstrous made, +be the And warnd them how they passengers inuade. +habitation Ye South and Westerne winds now cease to blow +of _Bachus_. Autumne is come, there be no flowers to grow, + Yea from that place respire, to which she goes, + And to her sailes should show your selfe but foes, 60 + But _Boreas_ and yee Esterne windes arise, + To send her soon to _Spaine_, but be precise, + That in your aide you seeme not still so sterne, + As we a summer should no more discerne, + For till that here againe, I may her see, + It will be winter all the yeare with mee. +_Castor_ and Ye swanne-begotten lonely brother-stars, +_Polox_ begot So oft auspicious to poore Mariners, +by _Ioue_ on Ye twin-bred lights of louely _Leda's_ brood, +_Leda_ in the _Ioues_ egge-borne issue smile vpon the flood, 70 +forme of a And in your mild'st aspect doe ye appeare +Swanne. A To be her warrant from all future feare. +constellation And if thou ship that bear'st her, doe proue good, +ominous to May neuer time by wormes, consume thy wood +Mariners. Nor rust thy iron, may thy tacklings last, + Till they for reliques be in temples plac't; + Maist thou be ranged with that mighty Arke, + Wherein iust _Noah_ did all the world imbarque, + With that which after _Troyes_ so famous wracke, + From ten yeares trauell brought _Vlisses_ backe, 80 + That Argo which to _Colchos_ went from _Greece_, + And in her botome brought the goulden fleece + Vnder braue _Iason_; or that same of _Drake_, + Wherein he did his famous voyage make + About the world; or _Candishes_ that went + As far as his, about the Continent. + And yee milde winds that now I doe implore, + Not once to raise the least sand on the shore, + Nor once on forfait of your selues respire: + When once the time is come of her retire, 90 + If then it please you, but to doe your due, + What for these windes I did, Ile doe for you; + Ile wooe you then, and if that not suffice, + My pen shall prooue you to haue dietyes, + Ile sing your loues in verses that shall flow, + And tell the storyes of your weale and woe, + Ile prooue what profit to the earth you bring, + And how t'is you that welcome in the spring; + Ile raise vp altars to you, as to show, + The time shall be kept holy, when you blow. 100 + O blessed winds! your will that it may be, + To send health to her, and her home to me. + + +To my most dearely-loued friend HENERY REYNOLDS Esquire, of +_Poets & Poesie_ + + My dearely loued friend how oft haue we, + In winter evenings (meaning to be free,) + To some well-chosen place vs'd to retire; + And there with moderate meate, and wine, and fire, + Haue past the howres contentedly with chat, + Now talk of this, and then discours'd of that, + Spoke our owne verses 'twixt our selves, if not + Other mens lines, which we by chance had got, + Or some Stage pieces famous long before, + Of which your happy memory had store; 10 + And I remember you much pleased were, + Of those who liued long agoe to heare, + As well as of those, of these latter times, + Who have inricht our language with their rimes, + And in succession, how still vp they grew, + Which is the subiect, that I now pursue; + For from my cradle, (you must know that) I, + Was still inclin'd to noble Poesie, + And when that once _Pueriles_ I had read, + And newly had my _Cato_ construed, 20 + In my small selfe I greatly marueil'd then, + Amonst all other, what strange kinde of men + These Poets were; And pleased with the name, + To my milde Tutor merrily I came, + (For I was then a proper goodly page, + Much like a Pigmy, scarse ten yeares of age) + Clasping my slender armes about his thigh. + O my deare master! cannot you (quoth I) + Make me a Poet, doe it if you can, + And you shall see, Ile quickly bee a man, 30 + Who me thus answered smiling, boy quoth he, + If you'le not play the wag, but I may see + You ply your learning, I will shortly read + Some Poets to you; _Phœbus_ be my speed, + Too't hard went I, when shortly he began, + And first read to me honest _Mantuan_, + Then _Virgils Eglogues_, being entred thus, + Me thought I straight had mounted _Pegasus_, + And in his full Careere could make him stop, + And bound vpon _Parnassus'_ by-clift top. 40 + I scornd your ballet then though it were done + And had for Finis, _William Elderton_. + But soft, in sporting with this childish iest, + I from my subiect haue too long digrest, + Then to the matter that we tooke in hand, + _Ioue_ and _Apollo_ for the _Muses_ stand. + Then noble _Chaucer_, in those former times, + The first inrich'd our _English_ with his rimes, + And was the first of ours, that euer brake, + Into the _Muses_ treasure, and first spake 50 + In weighty numbers, deluing in the Mine + Of perfect knowledge, which he could refine, + And coyne for currant, and as much as then + The _English_ language could expresse to men, + He made it doe; and by his wondrous skill, + Gaue vs much light from his abundant quill. + And honest _Gower_, who in respect of him, + Had only sipt at _Aganippas_ brimme, + And though in yeares this last was him before, + Yet fell he far short of the others store. 60 + When after those, foure ages very neare, + They with the _Muses_ which conuersed, were + That Princely _Surrey_, early in the time + Of the Eight _Henry_, who was then the prime + Of _Englands_ noble youth; with him there came + _Wyat_; with reuerence whom we still doe name + Amongst our Poets, _Brian_ had a share + With the two former, which accompted are + That times best makers, and the authors were + Of those small poems, which the title beare, 70 + Of songs and sonnets, wherein oft they hit + On many dainty passages of wit. + _Gascoine_ and _Churchyard_ after them againe + In the beginning of _Eliza's_ raine, + Accoumpted were great Meterers many a day, + But not inspired with braue fier, had they + Liu'd but a little longer, they had seene, + Their works before them to have buried beene. + Graue morrall _Spencer_ after these came on + Then whom I am perswaded there was none 80 + Since the blind _Bard_ his _Iliads_ vp did make, + Fitter a taske like that to vndertake, + To set downe boldly, brauely to inuent, + In all high knowledge, surely excellent. + The noble _Sidney_ with this last arose, + That _Heroe_ for numbers, and for Prose. + That throughly pac'd our language as to show, + The plenteous _English_ hand in hand might goe + With _Greek_ or _Latine_, and did first reduce + Our tongue from _Lillies_ writing then in vse; 90 + Talking of Stones, Stars, Plants, of fishes, Flyes, + Playing with words, and idle Similies, + As th' _English_, Apes and very Zanies be, + Of euery thing, that they doe heare and see, + So imitating his ridiculous tricks, + They spake and writ, all like meere lunatiques. + Then _Warner_ though his lines were not so trim'd, + Nor yet his Poem so exactly lim'd + And neatly ioynted, but the Criticke may + Easily reprooue him, yet thus let me say; 100 + For my old friend, some passages there be + In him, which I protest haue taken me, + With almost wonder, so fine, cleere, and new + As yet they haue bin equalled by few. + Neat _Marlow_ bathed in the _Thespian_ springs + Had in him those braue translunary things, + That the first Poets had, his raptures were, + All ayre, and fire, which made his verses cleere, + For that fine madnes still he did retaine, + Which rightly should possesse a Poets braine. 110 + And surely _Nashe_, though he a Proser were + A branch of Lawrell yet deserues to beare, + Sharply _Satirick_ was he, and that way + He went, since that his being, to this day + Few haue attempted, and I surely thinke + Those wordes shall hardly be set downe with inke; + Shall scorch and blast, so as his could, where he, + Would inflict vengeance, and be it said of thee, + _Shakespeare_, thou hadst as smooth a Comicke vaine, + Fitting the socke, and in thy naturall braine, 120 + As strong conception, and as Cleere a rage, + As any one that trafiqu'd with the stage. + Amongst these _Samuel Daniel_, whom if I + May spake of, but to sensure doe denie, + Onely haue heard some wisemen him rehearse, + To be too much _Historian_ in verse; + His rimes were smooth, his meeters well did close + But yet his maner better fitted prose: + Next these, learn'd _Johnson_, in this List I bring, + Who had drunke deepe of the _Pierian_ spring, 130 + Whose knowledge did him worthily prefer, + And long was Lord here of the Theater, + Who in opinion made our learn'st to sticke, + Whether in Poems rightly dramatique, + Strong _Seneca_ or _Plautus_, he or they, + Should beare the Buskin, or the Socke away. + Others againe here liued in my dayes, + That haue of vs deserued no lesse praise + For their translations, then the daintiest wit + That on _Parnassus_ thinks, he highst doth sit, 140 + And for a chaire may mongst the Muses call, + As the most curious maker of them all; + As reuerent _Chapman_, who hath brought to vs, + _Musæus_, _Homer_ and _Hesiodus_ + Out of the Greeke; and by his skill hath reard + Them to that height, and to our tongue endear'd, + That were those Poets at this day aliue, + To see their bookes thus with vs to suruiue, + They would think, hauing neglected them so long, + They had bin written in the _English_ tongue. 150 + And _Siluester_ who from the _French_ more weake, + Made _Bartas_ of his sixe dayes labour speake + In naturall _English_, who, had he there stayd, + He had done well, and neuer had bewraid + His owne inuention, to haue bin so poore + Who still wrote lesse, in striuing to write more. + Then dainty _Sands_ that hath to _English_ done, + Smooth sliding _Ouid_, and hath made him run + With so much sweetnesse and vnusuall grace, + As though the neatnesse of the _English_ pace, 160 + Should tell the Ietting _Lattine_ that it came + But slowly after, as though stiff and lame. + So _Scotland_ sent vs hither, for our owne + That man, whose name I euer would haue knowne, + To stand by mine, that most ingenious knight, + My _Alexander_, to whom in his right, + I want extreamely, yet in speaking thus + I doe but shew the loue, that was twixt vs, + And not his numbers which were braue and hie, + So like his mind, was his clear Poesie, 170 + And my deare _Drummond_ to whom much I owe + For his much loue, and proud I was to know, + His poesie, for which two worthy men, + I _Menstry_ still shall loue, and _Hauthorne-den_. + Then the two _Beamounts_ and my _Browne_ arose, + My deare companions whom I freely chose + My bosome friends; and in their seuerall wayes, + Rightly borne Poets, and in these last dayes, + Men of much note, and no lesse nobler parts, + Such as haue freely tould to me their hearts, 180 + As I have mine to them; but if you shall + Say in your knowledge, that these be not all + Haue writ in numbers, be inform'd that I + Only my selfe, to these few men doe tye, + Whose works oft printed, set on euery post, + To publique censure subiect haue bin most; + For such whose poems, be they nere so rare, + In priuate chambers, that incloistered are, + And by transcription daintyly must goe; + As though the world vnworthy were to know, 190 + Their rich composures, let those men that keepe + These wonderous reliques in their iudgement deepe; + And cry them vp so, let such Peeces bee + Spoke of by those that shall come after me, + I passe not for them: nor doe meane to run, + In quest of these, that them applause haue wonne, + Vpon our Stages in these latter dayes, + That are so many, let them haue their bayes + That doe deserue it; let those wits that haunt + Those publique circuits, let them freely chaunt 200 + Their fine Composures, and their praise pursue + And so my deare friend, for this time adue. + + +Vpon the death of his incomparable _friend Sir_ HENRY RAYNSFORD +_of_ CLIFFORD + + Could there be words found to expresse my losse, + There were some hope, that this my heauy crosse + Might be sustained, and that wretched I + Might once finde comfort: but to haue him die + Past all degrees that was so deare to me; + As but comparing him with others, hee + Was such a thing, as if some Power should say + I'le take Man on me, to shew men the way + What a friend should be. But words come so short + Of him, that when I thus would him report, 10 + I am vndone, and hauing nought to say, + Mad at my selfe, I throwe my penne away, + And beate my breast, that there should be a woe + So high, that words cannot attaine thereto. + T'is strange that I from my abundant breast, + Who others sorrowes haue so well exprest: + Yet I by this in little time am growne + So poore, that I want to expresse mine owne. + I thinke the Fates perceiuing me to beare + My worldly crosses without wit or feare: 20 + Nay, with what scorne I euer haue derided, + Those plagues that for me they haue oft prouided, + Drew them to counsaile; nay, conspired rather, + And in this businesse laid their heads together + To finde some one plague, that might me subuert, + And at an instant breake my stubborne heart; + They did indeede, and onely to this end + They tooke from me this more then man, or friend. + Hard-hearted Fates, your worst thus haue you done, + Then let vs see what lastly you haue wonne 30 + By this your rigour, in a course so strict, + Why see, I beare all that you can inflict: + And hee from heauen your poore reuenge to view; + Laments my losse of him, but laughes at you, + Whilst I against you execrations breath; + Thus are you scorn'd aboue, and curst beneath. + Me thinks that man (vnhappy though he be) + Is now thrice happy in respect of me, + Who hath no friend; for that in hauing none + He is not stirr'd as I am, to bemone 40 + My miserable losse, who but in vaine, + May euer looke to find the like againe. + This more then mine own selfe; that who had seene + His care of me where euer I had beene, + And had not knowne his actiue spirit before, + Vpon some braue thing working euermore: + He would haue sworne that to no other end + He had been borne: but onely for my friend. + I had been happy if nice Nature had + (Since now my lucke falls out to be so bad) 50 + Made me vnperfect, either of so soft + And yeelding temper, that lamenting oft, + I into teares my mournefull selfe might melt; + Or else so dull, my losse not to haue felt. + I haue by my too deare experience bought, + That fooles and mad men, whom I euer thought + The most vnhappy, are in deede not so: + And therefore I lesse pittie can bestowe + (Since that my sence, my sorrowe so can sound) + On those in Bedlam that are bound, 60 + And scarce feele scourging; and when as I meete + A foole by Children followed in the Streete, + Thinke I (poor wretch) thou from my griefe art free, + Nor couldst thou feele it, should it light on thee; + But that I am a _Christian_, and am taught + By him who with his precious bloud me bought, + Meekly like him my crosses to endure, + Else would they please me well, that for their cure, + When as they feele their conscience doth them brand, + Vpon themselues dare lay a violent hand; 70 + Not suffering Fortune with her murdering knife, + Stand like a Surgeon working on the life, + Deserting this part, that ioynt off to cut, + Shewing that Artire, ripping then that gut, + Whilst the dull beastly World with her squint eye, + Is to behold the strange Anatomie. + I am persuaded that those which we read + To be man-haters, were not so indeed, + The Athenian _Timon_, and beside him more + Of which the _Latines_, as the _Greekes_ haue store; 80 + Nor not did they all humane manners hate, + Nor yet maligne mans dignity and state. + But finding our fraile life how euery day, + It like a bubble vanisheth away: + For this condition did mankinde detest, + Farre more incertaine then that of the beast. + Sure heauen doth hate this world and deadly too, + Else as it hath done it would neuer doe, + For if it did not, it would ne're permit + A man of so much vertue, knowledge, wit, 90 + Of naturall goodnesse, supernaturall grace, + Whose courses when considerately I trace + Into their ends, and diligently looke, + They serue me for Oeconomike booke. + By which this rough world I not onely stemme, + In goodnesse but grow learn'd by reading them. + O pardon me, it my much sorrow is, + Which makes me vse this long Parenthesis; + Had heauen this world not hated as I say, + In height of life it had not, tane away 100 + A spirit so braue, so actiue, and so free, + That such a one who would not wish to bee, + Rather then weare a Crowne, by Armes though got, + So fast a friend, so true a Patriot. + In things concerning both the worlds so wise, + Besides so liberall of his faculties, + That where he would his industrie bestowe, + He would haue done, e're one could think to doe. + No more talke of the working of the Starres, + For plenty, scarcenesse, or for peace, or Warres: 110 + They are impostures, therefore get you hence + With all your Planets, and their influence. + No more doe I care into them to looke, + Then in some idle Chiromantick booke, + Shewing the line of life, and _Venus_ mount, + Nor yet no more would I of them account, + Then what that tells me, since what that so ere + Might promise man long life: of care and feare, + By nature freed, a conscience cleare, and quiet, + His health, his constitution, and his diet; 120 + Counting a hundred, fourscore at the least, + Propt vp by prayers, yet more to be encreast, + All these should faile, and in his fiftieth yeare + He should expire, henceforth let none be deare, + To me at all, lest for my haplesse sake, + Before their time heauen from the world them take, + And leaue me wretched to lament their ends + As I doe his, who was a thousand friends. + + +Vpon the death of the Lady OLIVE STANHOPE + + Canst thou depart and be forgotten so, + STANHOPE thou canst not, no deare STANHOPE, no: + But in despight of death the world shall see, + That Muse which so much graced was by thee + Can black Obliuion vtterly out-braue, + And set thee vp aboue thy silent Graue. + I meruail'd much the _Derbian_ Nimphes were dumbe, + Or of those Muses, what should be become, + That of all those, the mountaines there among, + Not one this while thy _Epicedium_sung; 10 + But so it is, when they of thee were reft, + They all those hills, and all those Riuers left, + And sullen growne, their former seates remoue, + Both from cleare _Darwin_, and from siluer _Doue_, + And for thy losse, they greeued are so sore, + That they haue vow'd they will come there no more; + But leaue thy losse to me, that I should rue thee, + Vnhappy man, and yet I neuer knew thee: + Me thou didst loue vnseene, so did I thee, + It was our spirits that lou'd then and not wee; 20 + Therefore without profanenesse I may call + The loue betwixt vs, loue spirituall: + But that which thou affectedst was so true, + As that thereby thee perfectly I knew; + And now that spirit, which thou so lou'dst, still mine, + Shall offer this a Sacrifice to thine, + And reare this Trophe, which for thee shall last, + When this most beastly Iron age is past; + I am perswaded, whilst we two haue slept, + Our soules haue met, and to each other wept, 30 + That destenie so strongly should forbid, + Our bodies to conuerse as oft they did: + For certainly refined spirits doe know, + As doe the Angels, and doe here belowe + Take the fruition of that endlesse blisse, + As those aboue doe, and what each one is. + They see diuinely, and as those there doe, + They know each others wills, so soules can too. + About that dismall time, thy spirit hence flew, + Mine much was troubled, but why, I not knew, 40 + In dull and sleepy sounds, it often left me, + As of it selfe it ment to haue bereft me, + I asked it what the cause was, of such woe, + Or what it might be, that might vexe it so, + But it was deafe, nor my demand would here, + But when that ill newes came, to touch mine eare, + I straightwayes found this watchfull sperit of mine, + Troubled had bin to take it leaue of thine, + For when fate found, what nature late had done, + How much from heauen, she for the earth had won 50 + By thy deare birth; said, that it could not be + In so yong yeares, what it perceiu'd in thee, + But nature sure, had fram'd thee long before; + And as Rich Misers of their mighty store, + Keepe the most precious longst, so from times past, + She onely had reserued thee till the last; + So did thy wisedome, not thy youth behold, + And tooke thee hence, in thinking thou wast old. + Thy shape and beauty often haue to me + Bin highly praysed, which I thought might be, 60 + Truely reported, for a spirit so braue, + Which heauen to thee so bountifully gaue; + Nature could not in recompence againe, + In some rich lodging but to entertaine. + Let not the world report then, that the Peake, + Is but a rude place only vast and bleake; + And nothing hath to boast of but her Lead, + When she can say that happily she bred + Thee, and when she shall of her wonders tell + Wherein she doth all other Tracts excell, 70 + Let her account thee greatst, and still to time + Of all the rest, accord thee for the prime. + + +To Master WILLIAM IEFFREYS, Chaplaine to the Lord Ambassa_dour +in Spaine_ + + My noble friend, you challenge me to write + To you in verse, and often you recite, + My promise to you, and to send you newes; + As 'tis a thing I very seldome vse, + And I must write of State, if to _Madrid_, + A thing our Proclamations here forbid, + And that word State such Latitude doth beare, + As it may make me very well to feare + To write, nay speake at all, these let you know + Your power on me, yet not that I will showe 10 + The loue I beare you, in that lofty height, + So cleere expression, or such words of weight, + As into _Spanish_ if they were translated, + Might make the Poets of that Realme amated; + Yet these my least were, but that you extort + These numbers from me, when I should report + In home-spunne prose, in good plaine honest words + The newes our wofull _England_ vs affords. + The Muses here sit sad, and mute the while + A sort of swine vnseasonably defile 20 + Those sacred springs, which from the by-clift hill + Dropt their pure _Nectar_ into euery quill; + In this with State, I hope I doe not deale, + This onely tends the Muses common-weale. + What canst thou hope, or looke for from his pen, + Who liues with beasts, though in the shapes of men, + And what a poore few are we honest still, + And dare to be so, when all the world is ill. + I finde this age of our markt with this Fate, + That honest men are still precipitate 30 + Vnder base villaines, which till th' earth can vent + This her last brood, and wholly hath them spent, + Shall be so, then in reuolution shall + Vertue againe arise by vices fall; + But that shall I not see, neither will I + Maintaine this, as one doth a Prophesie, + That our King _Iames_ to _Rome_ shall surely goe, + And from his chaire the _Pope_ shall ouerthrow. + But O this world is so giuen vp to hell, + That as the old Giants, which did once rebell, 40 + Against the Gods, so this now-liuing race + Dare sin, yet stand, and Ieere heauen in the face. + But soft my Muse, and make a little stay, + Surely thou art not rightly in thy way, + To my good _Ieffrayes_ was not I about + To write, and see, I suddainely am out, + This is pure _Satire_, that thou speak'st, and I + Was first in hand to write an Elegie. + To tell my countreys shame I not delight. + But doe bemoane 't I am no _Democrite_: 50 + O God, though Vertue mightily doe grieue + For all this world, yet will I not beleeue + But that shees faire and louely, and that she + So to the period of the world shall be; + Else had she beene forsaken (sure) of all, + For that so many sundry mischiefes fall + Vpon her dayly, and so many take + Armes vp against her, as it well might make + Her to forsake her nature, and behind, + To leaue no step for future time to find, 60 + As she had neuer beene, for he that now + Can doe her most disgrace, him they alow + The times chiefe Champion, and he is the man, + The prize, and Palme that absolutely wanne, + For where Kings Clossets her free seat hath bin + She neere the Lodge, not suffered is to Inne, + For ignorance against her stands in state, + Like some great porter at a Pallace gate; + So dull and barbarous lately are we growne, + And there are some this slauery that haue sowne, 70 + That for mans knowledge it enough doth make, + If he can learne, to read an Almanacke; + By whom that trash of _Amadis de Gaule_, + Is held an author most authenticall, + And things we haue like Noblemen that be + In little time, which I haue hope to see + Vpon their foot-clothes, as the streets they ride + To haue their hornebookes at their girdles ti'd. + But all their superfluity of spite + On vertues hand-maid Poesy doth light, 80 + And to extirpe her all their plots they lay, + But to her ruine they shall misse the way, + For his alone the Monuments of wit, + Aboue the rage of Tyrants that doe sit, + And from their strength, not one himselfe can saue, + But they shall tryumph o'r his hated graue. + In my conceipt, friend, thou didst neuer see + A righter Madman then thou hast of me, + For now as _Elegiack_ I bewaile + These poor base times; then suddainely I raile 90 + And am _Satirick_, not that I inforce + My selfe to be so, but euen as remorse, + Or hate, in the proud fulnesse of their hight + Master my fancy, iust so doe I write. + But gentle friend as soone shall I behold + That stone of which so many haue vs tould, + (Yet neuer any to this day could make) + The great _Elixar_ or to vndertake + The _Rose-crosse_ knowledge which is much like that + A Tarrying-iron for fooles to labour at, 100 + As euer after I may hope to see, + (A plague vpon this beastly world for me,) + Wit so respected as it was of yore; + And if hereafter any it restore, + It must be those that yet for many a yeare, + Shall be vnborne that must inhabit here, + And such in vertue as shall be asham'd + Almost to heare their ignorant Grandsires nam'd, + With whom so many noble spirits then liu'd, + That were by them of all reward depriu'd. 110 + My noble friend, I would I might haue quit + This age of these, and that I might haue writ, + Before all other, how much the braue pen, + Had here bin honoured of the _English_ men; + Goodnesse and knowledge, held by them in prise, + How hatefull to them Ignorance and vice; + But it falls out the contrary is true, + And so my _Ieffreyes_ for this time adue. + + +Vpon the death of Mistris ELIANOR FALLOWFIELD + + Accursed Death, what neede was there at all + Of thee, or who to councell thee did call; + The subiect whereupon these lines I spend + For thee was most vnfit, her timelesse end + Too soone thou wroughtst, too neere her thou didst stand; + Thou shouldst haue lent thy leane and meager hand + To those who oft the help thereof beseech, + And can be cured by no other Leech. + In this wide world how many thousands be, + That hauing past fourescore, doe call for thee. 10 + The wretched debtor in the Iayle that lies, + Yet cannot this his Creditor suffice + Doth woe thee oft with many a sigh and teare, + Yet thou art coy, and him thou wilt not heare. + The Captiue slaue that tuggeth at the Oares, + And vnderneath the Bulls tough sinewes rores, + Begs at thy hand, in lieu of all his paines, + That thou wouldst but release him of his chaines; + Yet thou a niggard listenest not thereto, + With one short gaspe which thou mightst easily do, 20 + But thou couldst come to her ere there was neede, + And euen at once destroy both flower and seede. + But cruell Death if thou so barbarous be, + To those so goodly, and so young as shee; + That in their teeming thou wilt shew thy spight; + Either from marriage thou wilt Maides affright, + Or in their wedlock, Widowes liues to chuse + Their Husbands bed, and vtterly refuse, + Fearing conception; so shalt thou thereby + Extirpate mankinde by thy cruelty. 30 + If after direfull Tragedy thou thirst, + Extinguish _Himens_ Torches at the first; + Build Funerall pyles, and the sad pauement strewe, + With mournfull Cypresse, and the pale-leau'd Yewe. + Away with Roses, Myrtle, and with Bayes; + Ensignes of mirth, and iollity, as these; + Neuer at Nuptials vsed be againe, + But from the Church the new Bride entertaine + With weeping _Nenias_, euer and among, + As at departings be sad _Requiems_ song. 40 + _Lucina_ by th' olde Poets that wert sayd, + Women in Childe-birth euermore to ayde, + Because thine Altars, long haue layne neglected: + Nor as they should, thy holy fiers reflected + Vpon thy Temples, therefore thou doest flye, + And wilt not helpe them in necessitie. + Thinking vpon thee, I doe often muse, + Whether for thy deare sake I should accuse + Nature or Fortune, Fortune then I blame, + And doe impute it as her greatest shame, 50 + To hast thy timelesse end, and soone agen + I vexe at Nature, nay I curse her then, + That at the time of need she was no stronger, + That we by her might haue enioy'd thee longer. + But whilst of these I with my selfe debate, + I call to minde how flinty-hearted Fate + Seaseth the olde, the young, the faire, the foule, + No thing on earth can Destinie controule: + But yet that Fate which hath of life bereft thee, + Still to eternall memory hath left thee, 60 + Which thou enioy'st by the deserued breath, + That many a great one hath not after death. + + + + +NIMPHIDIA + + +THE COVRT OF FAYRIE + + Olde CHAVCER doth of _Topas_ tell, + Mad RABLAIS of Pantagruell, + A latter third of _Dowsabell_, + With such poore trifles playing: + Others the like haue laboured at + Some of this thing, and some of that, + And many of they know not what, + But that they must be saying. + + Another sort there bee, that will + Be talking of the Fayries still, 10 + Nor neuer can they have their fill, + As they were wedded to them; + No Tales of them their thirst can slake, + So much delight therein they take, + And some strange thing they fame would make, + Knew they the way to doe them. + + Then since no Muse hath bin so bold, + Or of the Later, or the ould, + Those Eluish secrets to vnfold, + Which lye from others reading, 20 + My actiue Muse to light shall bring, + The court of that proud Fayry King, + And tell there, of the Reuelling, + _Ioue_ prosper my proceeding. + + And thou NIMPHIDIA gentle F_ay_, + Which meeting me vpon the way, + These secrets didst to me bewray, + Which now I am in telling: + My pretty light fantastick mayde, + I here inuoke thee to my ayde, 30 + That I may speake what thou hast sayd, + In numbers smoothly swelling. + + This Pallace standeth in the Ayre, + By Nigromancie placed there, + That it no Tempests needs to feare, + Which way so ere it blow it. + And somewhat Southward tow'rd the Noone, + Whence lyes a way vp to the Moone, + And thence the _Fayrie_ can as soone + Passe to the earth below it. 40 + + The Walls of Spiders legs are made, + Well mortized and finely layd, + He was the master of his Trade + It curiously that builded: + The Windowes of the eyes of Cats, + And for the Roofe, instead of Slats, + Is couer'd with the skinns of Batts, + With Mooneshine that are guilded. + + Hence _Oberon_ him sport to make, + (Their rest when weary mortalls take) 50 + And none but onely _Fayries_ wake, + Desendeth for his pleasure. + And _Mab_ his meerry Queene by night + Bestrids young Folks that lye vpright, + (In elder Times the _Mare_ that hight) + Which plagues them out of measure. + + Hence Shaddowes, seeming Idle shapes, + Of little frisking Elues and Apes, + To Earth doe make their wanton skapes, + As hope of pastime hasts them: 60 + Which maydes think on the Hearth they see, + When Fyers well nere consumed be, + Their daunsing Hayes by two and three, + Iust as their Fancy casts them. + + These make our Girles their sluttery rue, + By pinching them both blacke and blew, + And put a penny in their shue, + The house for cleanely sweeping: + And in their courses make that Round, + In Meadowes, and in Marshes found, 70 + Of them so call'd the _Fayrie_ ground, + Of which they haue the keeping. + + Thus when a Childe haps to be gott, + Which after prooues an Ideott, + When Folke perceiue it thriueth not, + The fault therein to smother: + Some silly doting brainlesse Calfe, + That vnderstands things by the halfe, + Say that the _Fayrie_ left this Aulfe, + And tooke away the other. 80 + + But listen and I shall you tell, + A chance in _Fayrie_ that befell, + Which certainly may please some well; + In Loue and Armes delighting: + Of _Oberon_ that Iealous grewe, + Of one of his owne _Fayrie_ crue, + Too well (he fear'd) his Queene that knew, + His loue but ill requiting. + + _Pigwiggen_ was this _Fayrie_ knight, + One wondrous gratious in the sight 90 + Of faire Queene _Mab_, which day and night, + He amorously obserued; + Which made king _Oberon_ suspect, + His Seruice tooke too good effect, + His saucinesse, and often checkt, + And could have wisht him starued. + + _Pigwiggen_ gladly would commend, + Some token to queene _Mab_ to send, + If Sea, or Land, him ought could lend, + Were worthy of her wearing: 100 + At length this Louer doth deuise, + A Bracelett made of Emmotts eyes, + A thing he thought that shee would prize, + No whitt her state impayring. + + And to the Queene a Letter writes, + Which he most curiously endites, + Coniuring her by all the rites + Of loue, she would be pleased, + To meete him her true Seruant, where + They might without suspect or feare, 110 + Themselues to one another cleare, + And haue their poore hearts eased. + + At mid-night the appointed hower, + And for the Queene a fitting bower, + (Quoth he) is that faire Cowslip flower, + On _Hipcut_ hill that groweth, + In all your Trayne there's not a _Fay_, + That euer went to gather May, + But she hath made it in her way, + The tallest there that groweth. 120 + + When by _Tom Thum_ a Fayrie Page, + He sent it, and doth him engage, + By promise of a mighty wage, + It secretly to carrie: + Which done, the Queene her maydes doth call, + And bids them to be ready all, + She would goe see her Summer Hall, + She could no longer tarrie. + + Her Chariot ready straight is made, + Each thing therein is fitting layde, 130 + That she by nothing might be stayde, + For naught must be her letting, + Foure nimble Gnats the Horses were, + Their Harnasses of Gossamere, + Flye Cranion her Chariottere, + Vpon the Coach-box getting. + + Her Chariot of a Snayles fine shell, + Which for the colours did excell: + The faire Queene _Mab_, becomming well, + So liuely was the limming: 140 + The seate the soft wooll of the Bee; + The couer, (gallantly to see) + The wing of a pyde Butterflee, + I trowe t'was simple trimming. + + The wheeles compos'd of Crickets bones, + And daintily made for the nonce, + For feare of ratling on the stones, + With Thistle-downe they shod it; + For all her Maydens much did feare, + If _Oberon_ had chanc'd to heare, 150 + That _Mab_ his Queene should haue bin there, + He would not haue aboad it. + + She mounts her Chariot with a trice, + Nor would she stay for no advice, + Vntill her Maydes that were so nice, + To wayte on her were fitted, + But ranne her selfe away alone; + Which when they heard there was not one, + But hasted after to be gone, + As she had beene diswitted. 160 + + _Hop_, and _Mop_, and _Drop_ so cleare, + _Pip_, and _Trip_, and _Skip_ that were, + To _Mab_ their Soueraigne euer deare: + Her speciall Maydes of Honour; + _Fib_, and _Tib_, and _Pinck_, and _Pin_, + _Tick_, and _Quick_, and _Iill_, and _Iin_, + _Tit_, and _Nit_, and _Wap_, and _Win_, + The Trayne that wayte vpon her. + + Vpon a Grashopper they got, + And what with Amble, and with Trot, 170 + For hedge nor ditch they spared not, + But after her they hie them. + A Cobweb ouer them they throw, + To shield the winde if it should blowe, + Themselues they wisely could bestowe, + Lest any should espie them. + + But let vs leaue Queene _Mab_ a while, + Through many a gate, o'r many a stile, + That now had gotten by this wile, + Her deare _Pigwiggin_ kissing, 180 + And tell how _Oberon_ doth fare, + Who grew as mad as any Hare, + When he had sought each place with care, + And found his Queene was missing. + + By grisly _Pluto_ he doth sweare, + He rent his cloths, and tore his haire, + And as he runneth, here and there, + An Acorne cup he greeteth; + Which soone he taketh by the stalke + About his head he lets it walke, 190 + Nor doth he any creature balke, + But lays on all he meeteth. + + The _Thuskan_ Poet doth aduance, + The franticke _Paladine_ of France, + And those more ancient doe inhaunce, + _Alcides_ in his fury. + And others _Aiax Telamon_, + But to this time there hath bin non, + So Bedlam as our _Oberon_, + Of which I dare assure you. 200 + + And first encountring with a waspe, + He in his armes the Fly doth claspe + As though his breath he forth would graspe, + Him for Pigwiggen taking: + Where is my wife thou Rogue, quoth he, + _Pigwiggen_, she is come to thee, + Restore her, or thou dy'st by me, + Whereat the poore waspe quaking, + + Cryes, _Oberon_, great _Fayrie_ King, + Content thee I am no such thing, 210 + I am a Waspe behold my sting, + At which the _Fayrie_ started: + When soone away the Waspe doth goe, + Poore wretch was neuer frighted so, + He thought his wings were much to slow, + O'rioyd, they so were parted. + + He next vpon a Glow-worme light, + (You must suppose it now was night), + Which for her hinder part was bright, + He tooke to be a Deuill. 220 + And furiously doth her assaile + For carrying fier in her taile + He thrasht her rough coat with his flayle, + The mad King fear'd no euill. + + O quoth the _Gloworme_ hold thy hand, + Thou puisant King of _Fayrie_ land, + Thy mighty stroaks who may withstand, + Hould, or of life despaire I: + Together then her selfe doth roule, + And tumbling downe into a hole, 230 + She seem'd as black as any Cole, + Which vext away the _Fayrie_. + + From thence he ran into a Hiue, + Amongst the Bees he letteth driue + And downe their Coombes begins to riue, + All likely to haue spoyled: + Which with their Waxe his face besmeard, + And with their Honey daub'd his Beard + It would haue made a man afeard, + To see how he was moyled. 240 + + A new Aduenture him betides, + He mett an Ant, which he bestrides, + And post thereon away he rides, + Which with his haste doth stumble; + And came full ouer on her snowte, + Her heels so threw the dirt about, + For she by no meanes could get out, + But ouer him doth tumble. + + And being in this piteous case, + And all be-slurried head and face, 250 + On runs he in this Wild-goose chase + As here, and there, he rambles + Halfe blinde, against a molehill hit, + And for a Mountaine taking it, + For all he was out of his wit, + Yet to the top he scrambles. + + And being gotten to the top, + Yet there himselfe he could not stop, + But downe on th' other side doth chop, + And to the foot came rumbling: 260 + So that the Grubs therein that bred, + Hearing such turmoyle ouer head, + Thought surely they had all bin dead, + So fearefull was the Iumbling. + + And falling downe into a Lake, + Which him vp to the neck doth take, + His fury somewhat it doth slake, + He calleth for a Ferry; + Where you may some recouery note, + What was his Club he made his Boate, 270 + And in his Oaken Cup doth float, + As safe as in a Wherry. + + Men talke of the Aduentures strange, + Of _Don Quishott_, and of their change + Through which he Armed oft did range, + Of _Sancha Panchas_ trauell: + But should a man tell euery thing, + Done by this franticke _Fayrie_ king. + And them in lofty numbers sing + It well his wits might grauell. 280 + + Scarse set on shore, but therewithall, + He meeteth _Pucke_, which most men call + _Hobgoblin_, and on him doth fall, + With words from frenzy spoken; + Hoh, hoh, quoth _Hob_, God saue thy grace, + Who drest thee in this pitteous case, + He thus that spoild my soueraignes face, + I would his necke were broken. + + This _Puck_ seemes but a dreaming dolt, + Still walking like a ragged Colt, 290 + And oft out of a Bush doth bolt, + Of purpose to deceiue vs. + And leading vs makes vs to stray, + Long Winters nights out of the way, + And when we stick in mire and clay, + _Hob_ doth with laughter leaue vs. + + Deare _Puck_ (quoth he) my wife is gone + As ere thou lou'st King _Oberon_, + Let euery thing but this alone + With vengeance, and pursue her; 300 + Bring her to me aliue or dead, + Or that vilde thief, _Pigwiggins_ head, + That villaine hath defil'd my bed + He to this folly drew her. + + Quoth _Puck_, My Liege Ile neuer lin, + But I will thorough thicke and thinne, + Vntill at length I bring her in, + My dearest Lord nere doubt it: + Thorough Brake, thorough Brier, + Thorough Muck, thorough Mier, 310 + Thorough Water, thorough Fier, + And thus goes _Puck_ about it. + + This thing Nimphidia ouer hard + That on this mad King had a guard + Not doubting of a great reward, + For first this businesse broching; + And through the ayre away doth goe + Swift as an Arrow from the Bowe, + To let her Soueraigne _Mab_ to know, + What perill was approaching. 320 + + The Queene bound with Loues powerfulst charme + Sate with _Pigwiggen_ arme in arme, + Her Merry Maydes that thought no harme, + About the roome were skipping: + A Humble-Bee their Minstrell, playde + Vpon his Hoboy; eu'ry Mayde + Fit for this Reuells was arayde, + The Hornepype neatly tripping. + + In comes _Nimphidia_, and doth crie, + My Soueraigne for your safety flie, 330 + For there is danger but too nie, + I posted to forewarne you: + The King hath sent _Hobgoblin_ out, + To seeke you all the Fields about, + And of your safety you may doubt, + If he but once discerne you. + + When like an vprore in a Towne, + Before them euery thing went downe, + Some tore a Ruffe, and some a Gowne, + Gainst one another iustling: 340 + They flewe about like Chaffe i' th winde, + For hast some left their Maskes behinde; + Some could not stay their Gloues to finde, + There neuer was such bustling. + + Forth ranne they by a secret way, + Into a brake that neere them lay; + Yet much they doubted there to stay, + Lest _Hob_ should hap to find them: + He had a sharpe and piercing sight, + All one to him the day and night, 350 + And therefore were resolu'd by flight, + To leave this place behind them. + + At length one chanc'd to find a Nut, + In th' end of which a hole was cut, + Which lay vpon a Hazell roote, + There scatt'red by a Squirill: + Which out the kernell gotten had; + When quoth this _Fay_ deare Queene be glad, + Let _Oberon_ be ne'r so mad, + Ile set you safe from perill. 360 + + Come all into this Nut (quoth she) + Come closely in be rul'd by me, + Each one may here a chuser be, + For roome yee need not wrastle: + Nor neede yee be together heapt; + So one by one therein they crept, + And lying downe they soundly slept, + And safe as in a Castle. + + _Nimphidia_ that this while doth watch, + Perceiu'd if _Puck_ the Queene should catch 370 + That he should be her ouer-match, + Of which she well bethought her; + Found it must be some powerfull Charme, + The Queene against him that must arme, + Or surely he would doe her harme, + For throughly he had sought her. + + And listning if she ought could heare, + That her might hinder, or might feare: + But finding still the coast was cleare, + Nor creature had discride her; 380 + Each circumstance and hauing scand, + She came thereby to vnderstand, + _Puck_ would be with them out of hand + When to her Charmes she hide her: + + And first her Ferne seede doth bestowe, + The kernell of the Missletowe: + And here and there as _Puck_ should goe, + With terrour to affright him: + She Night-shade strawes to work him ill, + Therewith her Veruayne and her Dill, 390 + That hindreth Witches of their will, + Of purpose to dispight him. + + Then sprinkles she the iuice of Rue, + That groweth vnderneath the Yeu: + With nine drops of the midnight dewe, + From Lunarie distilling: + The Molewarps braine mixt therewithall; + And with the same the Pismyres gall, + For she in nothing short would fall; + The _Fayrie_ was so willing. 400 + + Then thrice vnder a Bryer doth creepe, + Which at both ends was rooted deepe, + And ouer it three times shee leepe; + Her Magicke much auayling: + Then on _Proserpyna_ doth call, + And so vpon her spell doth fall, + Which here to you repeate I shall, + Not in one tittle fayling. + + By the croking of the Frogge; + By the howling of the Dogge; 410 + By the crying of the Hogge, + Against the storme arising; + By the Euening Curphewe bell; + By the dolefull dying knell, + O let this my direfull Spell, + _Hob_, hinder thy surprising. + + By the Mandrakes dreadfull groanes; + By the Lubricans sad moans; + By the noyse of dead mens bones, + In Charnell houses ratling: 420 + By the hissing of the Snake, + The rustling of the fire-Drake, + I charge thee thou this place forsake, + Nor of Queene _Mab_ be pratling. + + By the Whirlwindes hollow sound, + By the Thunders dreadfull stound, + Yells of Spirits vnder ground, + I chardge thee not to feare vs: + By the Shreech-owles dismall note, + By the Blacke Night-Rauens throate, 430 + I charge thee _Hob_ to teare thy Coate + With thornes if thou come neere vs, + + Her Spell thus spoke she stept aside, + And in a Chincke her selfe doth hide, + To see there of what would betyde, + For shee doth onely minde him: + When presently shee _Puck_ espies, + And well she markt his gloating eyes, + How vnder euery leafe he spies, + In seeking still to finde them. 440 + + But once the Circle got within, + The Charmes to worke doe straight begin, + And he was caught as in a Gin; + For as he thus was busie, + A paine he in his Head-peece feeles, + Against a stubbed Tree he reeles, + And vp went poore _Hobgoblins_ heeles, + Alas his braine was dizzie. + + At length vpon his feete he gets, + _Hobgoblin_ fumes, _Hobgoblin_ frets, 450 + And as againe he forward sets, + And through the Bushes scrambles; + A Stump doth trip him in his pace, + Down comes poore _Hob_ vpon his face, + And lamentably tore his case, + Amongst the Bryers and Brambles. + + A plague vpon Queene _Mab_, quoth hee, + And all her Maydes where ere they be, + I thinke the Deuill guided me, + To seeke her so prouoked. 460 + Where stumbling at a piece of Wood, + He fell into a dich of mudd, + Where to the very Chin he stood, + In danger to be choked. + + Now worse than e're he was before: + Poore _Puck_ doth yell, poore _Puck_ doth rore; + That wak'd Queene _Mab_ who doubted sore + Some Treason had been wrought her: + Vntill _Nimphidia_ told the Queene + What she had done, what she had seene, 470 + Who then had well-neere crack'd her spleene + With very extreame laughter. + + But leaue we _Hob_ to clamber out: + Queene _Mab_ and all her _Fayrie_ rout, + And come againe to haue about + With _Oberon_ yet madding: + And with _Pigwiggen_ now distrought, + Who much was troubled in his thought, + That he so long the Queene had sought, + And through the Fields was gadding. 480 + + And as he runnes he still doth crie, + King _Oberon_ I thee defie, + And dare thee here in Armes to trie, + For my deare Ladies honour: + For that she is a Queene right good, + In whose defence Ile shed my blood, + And that thou in this iealous mood + Hast lay'd this slander on her. + + And quickly Armes him for the Field, + A little Cockle-shell his Shield, 490 + Which he could very brauely wield: + Yet could it not be pierced: + His Speare a Bent both stiffe and strong, + And well-neere of two Inches long; + The Pyle was of a Horse-flyes tongue, + Whose sharpnesse nought reuersed. + + And puts him on a coate of Male, + Which was of a Fishes scale, + That when his Foe should him assaile, + No poynt should be preuayling: 500 + His Rapier was a Hornets sting, + It was a very dangerous thing: + For if he chanc'd to hurt the King, + It would be long in healing. + + His Helmet was a Bettles head, + Most horrible and full of dread, + That able was to strike one dead, + Yet did it well become him: + And for a plume, a horses hayre, + Which being tossed with the ayre, 510 + Had force to strike his Foe with feare, + And turne his weapon from him. + + Himselfe he on an Earewig set, + Yet scarce he on his back could get, + So oft and high he did coruet, + Ere he himselfe could settle: + He made him turne, and stop, and bound, + To gallop, and to trot the Round, + He scarce could stand on any ground, + He was so full of mettle. 520 + + When soone he met with _Tomalin_, + One that a valiant Knight had bin, + And to King _Oberon_ of kin; + Quoth he thou manly _Fayrie_: + Tell _Oberon_ I come prepar'd, + Then bid him stand vpon his Guard; + This hand his basenesse shall reward, + Let him be ne'r so wary. + + Say to him thus, that I defie, + His slanders, and his infamie, 530 + And as a mortall enemie, + Doe publickly proclaime him: + Withall, that if I had mine owne, + He should not weare the _Fayrie_ Crowne, + But with a vengeance should come downe: + Nor we a King should name him. + + This _Tomalin_ could not abide, + To heare his Soueraigne vilefide: + But to the _Fayrie_ Court him hide; + Full furiously he posted, 540 + With eu'ry thing _Pigwiggen_ sayd: + How title to the Crowne he layd, + And in what Armes he was aray'd, + As how himselfe he boasted. + + Twixt head and foot, from point to point, + He told th'arming of each ioint, + In every piece, how neate, and quaint, + For _Tomalin_ could doe it: + How fayre he sat, how sure he rid, + As of the courser he bestrid, 550 + How Mannag'd, and how well he did; + The King which listened to it, + + Quoth he, goe _Tomalin_ with speede, + Prouide me Armes, prouide my Steed, + And euery thing that I shall neede, + By thee I will be guided; + To strait account, call thou thy witt, + See there be wanting not a whitt, + In euery thing see thou me fitt, + Just as my foes prouided. 560 + + Soone flewe this newes through _Fayrie_ land + Which gaue Queene _Mab_ to vnderstand, + The combate that was then in hand, + Betwixt those men so mighty: + Which greatly she began to rew, + Perceuing that all _Fayrie_ knew, + The first occasion from her grew, + Of these affaires so weighty. + + Wherefore attended with her maides, + Through fogs, and mists, and dampes she wades, 570 + To _Proserpine_ the Queene of shades + To treat, that it would please her, + The cause into her hands to take, + For ancient loue and friendships sake, + And soone therof an end to make, + Which of much care would ease her. + + A While, there let we _Mab_ alone, + And come we to King _Oberon_, + Who arm'd to meete his foe is gone, + For Proud _Pigwiggen_ crying: 580 + Who sought the _Fayrie_ King as fast, + And had so well his iourneyes cast, + That he arriued at the last, + His puisant foe espying: + + Stout _Tomalin_ came with the King, + _Tom Thum_ doth on _Pigwiggen_ bring, + That perfect were in euery thing, + To single fights belonging: + And therefore they themselues ingage, + To see them exercise their rage, 590 + With faire and comely equipage, + Not one the other wronging. + + So like in armes, these champions were, + As they had bin, a very paire, + So that a man would almost sweare, + That either, had bin either; + Their furious steedes began to naye + That they were heard a mighty way, + Their staues vpon their rests they lay; + Yet e'r they flew together, 600 + + Their Seconds minister an oath, + Which was indifferent to them both, + That on their Knightly faith, and troth, + No magicke them supplyed; + And sought them that they had no charmes, + Wherewith to worke each others harmes, + But came with simple open armes, + To haue their causes tryed. + + Together furiously they ran, + That to the ground came horse and man, 610 + The blood out of their Helmets span, + So sharpe were their incounters; + And though they to the earth were throwne, + Yet quickly they regain'd their owne, + Such nimblenesse was neuer showne, + They were two Gallant Mounters. + + When in a second Course againe, + They forward came with might and mayne, + Yet which had better of the twaine, + The Seconds could not iudge yet; 620 + Their shields were into pieces cleft, + Their helmets from their heads were reft, + And to defend them nothing left, + These Champions would not budge yet. + + Away from them their Staues they threw, + Their cruell Swords they quickly drew, + And freshly they the fight renew; + They euery stroke redoubled: + Which made _Proserpina_ take heed, + And make to them the greater speed, 630 + For fear lest they too much should bleed, + Which wondrously her troubled. + + When to th' infernall _Stix_ she goes, + She takes the Fogs from thence that rose, + And in a Bagge doth them enclose; + When well she had them blended: + She hyes her then to _Lethe_ spring, + A Bottell and thereof doth bring, + Wherewith she meant to worke the thing, + Which onely she intended. 640 + + Now _Proserpine_ with _Mab_ is gone + Vnto the place where _Oberon_ + And proud _Pigwiggen_, one to one, + Both to be slaine were likely: + And there themselues they closely hide, + Because they would not be espide; + For _Proserpine_ meant to decide + The matter very quickly. + + And suddainly vntyes the Poke, + Which out of it sent such a smoke, 650 + As ready was them all to choke, + So greeuous was the pother; + So that the Knights each other lost, + And stood as still as any post, + _Tom Thum_, nor _Tomalin_ could boast + Themselues of any other. + + But when the mist gan somewhat cease, + _Proserpina_ commanded peace: + And that a while they should release, + Each other of their perill: 660 + Which here (quoth she) I doe proclaime + To all in dreadfull _Plutos_ name, + That as yee will eschewe his blame, + You let me heare the quarrell, + + But here your selues you must engage, + Somewhat to coole your spleenish rage: + Your greeuous thirst and to asswage, + That first you drinke this liquor: + Which shall your vnderstanding cleare, + As plainely shall to you appeare; 670 + Those things from me that you shall heare, + Conceiuing much the quicker. + + This _Lethe_ water you must knowe, + The memory destroyeth so, + That of our weale, or of our woe, + It all remembrance blotted; + Of it nor can you euer thinke: + For they no sooner tooke this drinke, + But nought into their braines could sinke, + Of what had them besotted. 680 + + King _Oberon_ forgotten had, + That he for iealousie ranne mad: + But of his Queene was wondrous glad, + And ask'd how they came thither: + _Pigwiggen_ likewise doth forget, + That he Queene _Mab_ had euer met; + Or that they were so hard beset, + When they were found together. + + Nor neither of them both had thought, + That e'r they had each other sought; 690 + Much lesse that they a Combat fought, + But such a dreame were lothing: + _Tom Thum_ had got a little sup, + And _Tomalin_ scarce kist the Cup, + Yet had their braines so sure lockt vp, + That they remembred nothing. + + Queene _Mab_ and her light Maydes the while, + Amongst themselues doe closely smile, + To see the King caught with this wile, + With one another testing: 700 + And to the _Fayrie_ Court they went, + With mickle ioy and merriment, + Which thing was done with good intent, + And thus I left them feasting. + +FINIS. + + + + +THE QVEST OF CYNTHIA + + + What time the groues were clad in greene, + The Fields drest all in flowers, + And that the sleeke-hayred Nimphs were seene, + To seeke them Summer Bowers. + + Forth rou'd I by the sliding Rills, + To finde where CYNTHIA sat, + Whose name so often from the hills, + The Ecchos wondred at. + + When me vpon my Quest to bring, + That pleasure might excell, 10 + The Birds stroue which should sweetliest sing, + The Flowers which sweet'st should smell. + + Long wand'ring in the Woods (said I) + Oh whether's CYNTHIA gone? + When soone the Eccho doth reply, + To my last word, goe on. + + At length vpon a lofty Firre, + It was my chance to finde, + Where that deare name most due to her, + Was caru'd vpon the rynde. 20 + + Which whilst with wonder I beheld, + The Bees their hony brought, + And vp the carued letters fild, + As they with gould were wrought. + + And neere that trees more spacious roote, + Then looking on the ground, + The shape of her most dainty foot, + Imprinted there I found. + + Which stuck there like a curious seale, + As though it should forbid 30 + Vs, wretched mortalls, to reueale, + What vnder it was hid. + + Besides the flowers which it had pres'd, + Apeared to my vew, + More fresh and louely than the rest, + That in the meadowes grew: + + The cleere drops in the steps that stood, + Of that dilicious Girle, + The Nimphes amongst their dainty food, + Drunke for dissolued pearle. 40 + + The yeilding sand, where she had troad, + Vntutcht yet with the winde, + By the faire posture plainely show'd, + Where I might _Cynthia_ finde. + + When on vpon my waylesse walke, + As my desires me draw, + I like a madman fell to talke, + With euery thing I saw: + + I ask'd some Lillyes why so white, + They from their fellowes were; 50 + Who answered me, that _Cynthia's_ sight, + Had made them looke so cleare: + + I ask'd a nodding Violet why, + It sadly hung the head, + It told me _Cynthia_ late past by, + Too soone from it that fled: + + A bed of Roses saw I there, + Bewitching with their grace: + Besides so wondrous sweete they were, + That they perfum'd the place, 60 + + I of a Shrube of those enquir'd, + From others of that kind, + Who with such virtue them enspir'd, + It answer'd (to my minde). + + As the base Hemblocke were we such, + The poysned'st weed that growes, + Till _Cynthia_ by her god-like tuch, + Transform'd vs to the Rose: + + Since when those Frosts that winter brings + Which candy euery greene, 70 + Renew vs like the Teeming Springs, + And we thus Fresh are scene. + + At length I on a Fountaine light, + Whose brim with Pincks was platted; + The Banck with Daffadillies dight, + With grasse like Sleaue was matted, + + When I demanded of that Well, + What power frequented there; + Desiring, it would please to tell + What name it vsde to beare. 80 + + It tolde me it was _Cynthias_ owne, + Within whose cheerefull brimmes, + That curious Nimph had oft beene knowne + To bath her snowy Limmes. + + Since when that Water had the power, + Lost Mayden-heads to restore, + And make one Twenty in an howre, + Of _Esons_ age before. + + And told me that the bottome cleere, + Now layd with many a fett 90 + Of seed-pearle, ere shee bath'd her there: + Was knowne as blacke as Jet, + + As when she from the water came, + Where first she touch'd the molde, + In balls the people made the same + For Pomander, and solde. + + When chance me to an Arbour led, + Whereas I might behold: + Two blest _Elizeums_ in one sted, + The lesse the great enfold. 100 + + The place which she had chosen out, + Her selfe in to repose; + Had they com'n downe, the gods no doubt + The very same had chose. + + The wealthy Spring yet neuer bore + That sweet, nor dainty flower + That damask'd not, the chequer'd flore + Of CYNTHIAS Summer Bower. + + The Birch, the Mirtle, and the Bay, + Like Friends did all embrace; 110 + And their large branches did display, + To Canapy the place. + + Where she like VENVS doth appeare, + Vpon a Rosie bed; + As Lillyes the soft pillowes weare, + Whereon she layd her head. + + Heau'n on her shape such cost bestow'd, + And with such bounties blest: + No lim of hers but might haue made + A Goddesse at the least. 120 + + The Flyes by chance mesht in her hayre, + By the bright Radience throwne + From her cleare eyes, rich Iewels weare, + They so like Diamonds shone. + + The meanest weede the soyle there bare, + Her breath did so refine, + That it with Woodbynd durst compare, + And beard the Eglantine. + + The dewe which on the tender grasse, + The Euening had distill'd, 130 + To pure Rose-water turned was, + The shades with sweets that fill'd. + + The windes were husht, no leafe so small + At all was scene to stirre: + Whilst tuning to the waters fall, + The small Birds sang to her. + + Where she too quickly me espies, + When I might plainely see, + A thousand _Cupids_ from her eyes + Shoote all at once at me. 140 + + Into these secret shades (quoth she) + How dar'st thou be so bold + To enter, consecrate to me, + Or touch this hallowed mold. + + Those words (quoth she) I can pronounce, + Which to that shape can bring + Thee, which the Hunter had who once + Sawe _Dian_ in the Spring. + + Bright Nimph againe I thus replie, + This cannot me affright: 150 + I had rather in thy presence die, + Then liue out of thy sight. + + I first vpon the Mountaines hie, + Built Altars to thy name; + And grau'd it on the Rocks thereby, + To propogate thy fame. + + I taught the Shepheards on the Downes, + Of thee to frame their Layes: + T'was I that fill'd the neighbouring Townes, + With Ditties of thy praise. 160 + + Thy colours I deuis'd with care, + Which were vnknowne before: + Which since that, in their braded hayre + The Nimphes and Siluans wore. + + Transforme me to what shape you can, + I passe not what it be: + Yea what most hatefull is to man, + So I may follow thee. + + Which when she heard full pearly floods, + I in her eyes might view: 170 + (Quoth she) most welcome to these Woods, + Too meane for one so true. + + Here from the hatefull world we'll liue, + A den of mere dispight: + To Ideots only that doth giue, + Which be her sole delight. + + To people the infernall pit, + That more and more doth striue; + Where only villany is wit, + And Diuels only thriue. 180 + + Whose vilenesse vs shall neuer awe: + But here our sports shall be: + Such as the golden world first sawe, + Most innocent and free. + + Of Simples in these Groues that growe, + Wee'll learne the perfect skill; + The nature of each Herbe to knowe + Which cures, and which can kill. + + The waxen Pallace of the Bee, + We seeking will surprise 190 + The curious workmanship to see, + Of her full laden thighes. + + Wee'll suck the sweets out of the Combe, + And make the gods repine: + As they doe feast in _Ioues_ great roome, + To see with what we dine. + + Yet when there haps a honey fall, + Wee'll lick the sirupt leaues: + And tell the Bees that their's is gall, + To this vpon the Greaues. 200 + + The nimble Squirrell noting here, + Her mossy Dray that makes, + And laugh to see the lusty Deere + Come bounding ore the brakes. + + The Spiders Webb to watch weele stand, + And when it takes the Bee, + Weele helpe out of the Tyrants hand, + The Innocent to free. + + Sometime weele angle at the Brooke, + The freckled Trout to take, 210 + With silken Wormes, and bayte the hooke, + Which him our prey shall make. + + Of medling with such subtile tooles, + Such dangers that enclose, + The Morrall is that painted Fooles, + Are caught with silken showes. + + And when the Moone doth once appeare, + Weele trace the lower grounds, + When _Fayries_ in their Ringlets there + Do daunce their nightly rounds. 220 + + And haue a Flocke of Turtle Doues, + A guard on vs to keepe, + A witnesse of our honest loues, + To watch vs till we sleepe. + + Which spoke I felt such holy fires + To ouerspred my breast, + As lent life to my Chast desires + And gaue me endlesse rest. + + By _Cynthia_ thus doe I subsist, + On earth Heauens onely pride, 230 + Let her be mine, and let who list, + Take all the world beside. + +FINIS. + + + + +THE SHEPHEARDS SIRENA + + + DORILVS in sorrowes deepe, + Autumne waxing olde and chill, + As he sate his Flocks to keepe + Vnderneath an easie hill: + Chanc'd to cast his eye aside + On those fields, where he had scene, + Bright SIRENA Natures pride, + Sporting on the pleasant greene: + To whose walkes the Shepheards oft, + Came her god-like foote to finde, 10 + And in places that were soft, + Kist the print there left behinde; + Where the path which she had troad, + Hath thereby more glory gayn'd, + Then in heau'n that milky rode, + Which with Nectar _Hebe_ stayn'd: + But bleake Winters boystrous blasts, + Now their fading pleasures chid, + And so fill'd them with his wastes, + That from sight her steps were hid. 20 + Silly Shepheard sad the while, + For his sweet SIRENA gone, + All his pleasures in exile: + Layd on the colde earth alone. + Whilst his gamesome cut-tayld Curre, + With his mirthlesse Master playes, + Striuing him with sport to stirre, + As in his more youthfull dayes, + DORILVS his Dogge doth chide, + Layes his well-tun'd Bagpype by, 30 + And his Sheep-hooke casts aside, + There (quoth he) together lye. + When a Letter forth he tooke, + Which to him SIRENA writ, + With a deadly down-cast looke, + And thus fell to reading it. + DORILVS my deare (quoth she) + Kinde Companion of my woe, + Though we thus diuided be, + Death cannot diuorce vs so: 40 + Thou whose bosome hath beene still, + Th' onely Closet of my care, + And in all my good and ill, + Euer had thy equall share: + Might I winne thee from thy Fold, + Thou shouldst come to visite me, + But the Winter is so cold, + That I feare to hazard thee: + The wilde waters are waxt hie, + So they are both deafe and dumbe, 50 + Lou'd they thee so well as I, + They would ebbe when thou shouldst come; + Then my coate with light should shine, + Purer then the Vestall fire: + Nothing here but should be thine, + That thy heart can well desire: + Where at large we will relate, + From what cause our friendship grewe, + And in that the varying Fate, + Since we first each other knewe: 60 + Of my heauie passed plight, + As of many a future feare, + Which except the silent night, + None but onely thou shalt heare; + My sad hurt it shall releeue, + When my thoughts I shall disclose, + For thou canst not chuse but greeue, + When I shall recount my woes; + There is nothing to that friend, + To whose close vncranied brest, 70 + We our secret thoughts may send, + And there safely let it rest: + And thy faithfull counsell may, + My distressed case assist, + Sad affliction else may sway + Me a woman as it list: + Hither I would haue thee haste, + Yet would gladly haue thee stay, + When those dangers I forecast, + That may meet thee by the way, 80 + Doe as thou shalt thinke it best, + Let thy knowledge be thy guide, + Liue thou in my constant breast, + Whatsoeuer shall betide. + He her Letter hauing red, + Puts it in his Scrip againe, + Looking like a man halfe dead, + By her kindenesse strangely slaine; + And as one who inly knew, + Her distressed present state, 90 + And to her had still been true, + Thus doth with himselfe debate. + I will not thy face admire, + Admirable though it bee, + Nor thine eyes whose subtile fire + So much wonder winne in me: + But my maruell shall be now, + (And of long it hath bene so) + Of all Woman kind that thou + Wert ordain'd to taste of woe; 100 + To a Beauty so diuine, + Paradise in little done, + O that Fortune should assigne, + Ought but what thou well mightst shun, + But my counsailes such must bee, + (Though as yet I them conceale) + By their deadly wound in me, + They thy hurt must onely heale, + Could I giue what thou do'st craue + To that passe thy state is growne, 110 + I thereby thy life may saue, + But am sure to loose mine owne, + To that ioy thou do'st conceiue, + Through my heart, the way doth lye, + Which in two for thee must claue + Least that thou shouldst goe awry. + Thus my death must be a toy, + Which my pensiue breast must couer; + Thy beloued to enioy, + Must be taught thee by thy Louer. 120 + Hard the Choise I haue to chuse, + To my selfe if friend I be, + I must my SIRENA loose, + If not so, shee looseth me. + Thus whilst he doth cast about, + What therein were best to doe, + Nor could yet resolue the doubt, + Whether he should stay or goe: + In those Feilds not farre away, + There was many a frolike Swaine, 130 + In fresh Russets day by day, + That kept Reuells on the Plaine. + Nimble TOM, sirnam'd the _Tup_, + For his Pipe without a Peere, + And could tickle _Trenchmore_ vp, + As t'would ioy your heart to heare. + RALPH as much renown'd for skill, + That the _Taber_ touch'd so well; + For his _Gittern_, little GILL, + That all other did excell. 140 + ROCK and ROLLO euery way, + Who still led the Rusticke Ging, + And could troule a Roundelay, + That would make the Feilds to ring, + COLLIN on his _Shalme_ so cleare, + Many a high-pitcht Note that had, + And could make the Eechos nere + Shout as they were wexen mad. + Many a lusty Swaine beside, + That for nought but pleasure car'd, 150 + Hauing DORILVS espy'd, + And with him knew how it far'd. + Thought from him they would remoue, + This strong melancholy fitt, + Or so, should it not behoue, + Quite to put him out of 's witt; + Hauing learnt a Song, which he + Sometime to Sirena sent, + Full of Iollity and glee, + When the Nimph liu'd neere to _Trent_ 160 + They behinde him softly gott, + Lying on the earth along, + And when he suspected not, + Thus the Iouiall Shepheards song. + + Neare to the Siluer _Trent_, + _Sirena_ dwelleth: + Shee to whom Nature lent + All that excelleth: + By which the _Muses_ late, + And the neate _Graces_, 170 + Haue for their greater state + Taken their places: + Twisting an _Anadem_, + Wherewith to Crowne her, + As it belong'd to them + Most to renowne her. + Cho. _On thy Bancke, + In a Rancke, + Let the Swanes sing her, + And with their Musick, 180 + Along let them bring her._ + + _Tagus_ and _Pactolus_ + Are to thee Debter, + Nor for their gould to vs + Are they the better: + Henceforth of all the rest, + Be thou the Riuer, + Which as the daintiest, + Puts them downe euer, + For as my precious one, 190 + O'r thee doth trauell, + She to Pearl Parragon + Turneth thy grauell. + Cho. _On thy Bancke, + In a Rancke, + Let thy Swanns sing her, + And with their Musicke, + Along let them bring her._ + + Our mournefull _Philomell_, + That rarest Tuner, 200 + Henceforth in _Aperill_ + Shall wake the sooner, + And to her shall complaine + From the thicke Couer, + Redoubling euery straine + Ouer and ouer: + For when my Loue too long + Her Chamber keepeth; + As though it suffered wrong, + The Morning weepeth. 210 + Cho. _On thy Bancke, + In a Rancke, + Let thy Swanes sing her, + And with their Musick, + Along let them bring her._ + + Oft have I seene the Sunne + To doe her honour. + Fix himselfe at his noone, + To look vpon her, + And hath guilt euery Groue, 220 + Euery Hill neare her, + With his flames from aboue, + Striuing to cheere her, + And when shee from his sight + Hath her selfe turned, + He as it had beene night, + In Cloudes hath mourned. + Cho. _On thy Bancke, + In a Rancke, + Let thy Swanns sing her, 230 + And with their Musicke, + Along let them bring her._ + + The Verdant Meades are seene, + When she doth view them, + In fresh and gallant Greene, + Straight to renewe them, + And euery little Grasse + Broad it selfe spreadeth, + Proud that this bonny Lasse + Vpon it treadeth: 240 + Nor flower is so sweete + In this large Cincture + But it upon her feete + Leaueth some Tincture. + Cho. _On thy Bancke, + In a Rancke, + Let thy Swanes sing her, + And with thy Musick, + Along let them bring her._ + + The Fishes in the Flood, 250 + When she doth Angle, + For the Hooke striue a good + Them to intangle; + And leaping on the Land + From the cleare water, + Their Scales vpon the sand, + Lauishly scatter; + Therewith to paue the mould + Whereon she passes, + So her selfe to behold, 260 + As in her glasses. + Cho. _On thy Bancke, + In a Ranke, + Let thy Swanns sing her, + And with their Musicke, + Along let them bring her._ + + When shee lookes out by night, + The Starres stand gazing, + Like Commets to our sight + Fearefully blazing, 270 + As wondring at her eyes + With their much brightnesse, + Which to amaze the skies, + Dimming their lightnesse, + The raging Tempests are Calme, + When shee speaketh, + Such most delightsome balme + From her lips breaketh. + Cho. _On thy Banke, + In a Rancke_, &c. 280 + + In all our _Brittany_, + Ther's not a fayrer, + Nor can you fitt any: + Should you compare her. + Angels her eye-lids keepe + All harts surprizing, + Which looke whilst she doth sleepe + Like the Sunnes rising: + She alone of her kinde + Knoweth true measure 290 + And her vnmatched mind + Is Heauens treasure: + Cho. _On thy Bancke, + In a Rancke + Let thy Swanes sing her, + And with their Musick, + Along let them bring her._ + + Fayre _Doue_ and _Darwine_ cleere + Boast yee your beauties, + To _Trent_ your Mistres here 300 + Yet pay your duties, + My Loue was higher borne + Tow'rds the full Fountaines, + Yet she doth _Moorland_ scorne, + And the _Peake_ Mountaines; + Nor would she none should dreame, + Where she abideth, + Humble as is the streame, + Which by her slydeth, + Cho. _On thy Bancke, 310 + In a Rancke, + Let thy Swannes sing her, + And with their Musicke, + Along let them bring her._ + + Yet my poore Rusticke _Muse_, + Nothing can moue her, + Nor the means I can vse, + Though her true Louer: + Many a long Winters night, + Haue I wak'd for her, 320 + Yet this my piteous plight, + Nothing can stirre her. + All thy Sands siluer _Trent_ + Downe to the _Humber_, + The sighes I haue spent + Neuer can number. + Cho. _On thy Banke + In a Ranke, + Let thy Swans sing her + And with their Musicke 330 + Along let them bring her._ + + Taken with this suddaine Song, + Least for mirth when he doth look + His sad heart more deeply stong, + Then the former care he tooke. + At their laughter and amaz'd, + For a while he sat aghast + But a little hauing gaz'd, + Thus he them bespake at last. + Is this time for mirth (quoth he) 340 + To a man with griefe opprest, + Sinfull wretches as you be, + May the sorrowes in my breast, + Light vpon you one by one, + And as now you mocke my woe, + When your mirth is turn'd to moane; + May your like then serue you so. + When one Swaine among the rest + Thus him merrily bespake, + Get thee vp thou arrant beast 350 + Fits this season loue to make? + Take thy Sheephooke in thy hand, + Clap thy Curre and set him on, + For our fields 'tis time to stand, + Or they quickly will be gon. + Rougish Swinheards that repine + At our Flocks, like beastly Clownes, + Sweare that they will bring their Swine, + And will wroote vp all our Downes: + They their Holly whips haue brac'd, 360 + And tough Hazell goades haue gott; + Soundly they your sides will baste, + If their courage faile them not. + Of their purpose if they speed, + Then your Bagpypes you may burne, + It is neither Droane nor Reed + Shepheard, that will serue your turne: + Angry OLCON sets them on, + And against vs part doth take + Euer since he was out-gone, 370 + Offring Rymes with us to make. + Yet if so our Sheepe-hookes hold, + Dearely shall our Downes be bought, + For it neuer shall be told, + We our Sheep-walkes sold for naught. + And we here haue got vs Dogges, + Best of all the Westerne breed, + Which though Whelps shall lug their Hogges, + Till they make their eares to bleed: + Therefore Shepheard come away. 380 + When as DORILVS arose, + Whistles Cut-tayle from his play, + And along with them he goes. + +FINIS. + + + + +THE MVSES ELIZIVM + +The Description of Elizium + + + A Paradice on earth is found, + Though farre from vulgar sight, + Which with those pleasures doth abound + That it _Elizium_ hight. + + Where, in Delights that neuer fade, + The Muses lulled be, + And sit at pleasure in the shade + Of many a stately tree, + + Which no rough Tempest makes to reele + Nor their straight bodies bowes, 10 + Their lofty tops doe neuer feele + The weight of winters snowes; + + In Groues that euermore are greene, + No falling leafe is there, + But _Philomel_ (of birds the Queene) + In Musicke spends the yeare. + + The _Merle_ vpon her mertle Perch, + There to the _Mavis_ sings, + Who from the top of some curld Berch + Those notes redoubled rings; 20 + + There Daysyes damaske euery place + Nor once their beauties lose, + That when proud _Phœbus_ hides his face + Themselues they scorne to close. + + The Pansy and the Violet here, + As seeming to descend, + Both from one Root, a very payre, + For sweetnesse yet contend, + + And pointing to a Pinke to tell + Which beares it, it is loath, 30 + To iudge it; but replyes for smell + That it excels them both. + + Wherewith displeasde they hang their heads + So angry soone they grow + And from their odoriferous beds + Their sweets at it they throw. + + The winter here a Summer is, + No waste is made by time, + Nor doth the Autumne euer misse + The blossomes of the Prime. 40 + + The flower that Iuly forth doth bring + In Aprill here is seene, + The Primrose that puts on the Spring + In Iuly decks each Greene. + + The sweets for soueraignty contend + And so abundant be, + That to the very Earth they lend + And Barke of euery Tree: + + Rills rising out of euery Banck, + In wild Meanders strayne, 50 + And playing many a wanton pranck + Vpon the speckled plaine, + + In Gambols and lascivious Gyres + Their time they still bestow + Nor to their Fountaines none retyres, + Nor on their course will goe. + + Those Brooks with Lillies brauely deckt, + So proud and wanton made, + That they their courses quite neglect: + And seeme as though they stayde, 60 + + Faire _Flora_ in her state to viewe + Which through those Lillies looks, + Or as those Lillies leand to shew + Their beauties to the brooks. + + That _Phœbus_in his lofty race, + Oft layes aside his beames + And comes to coole his glowing face + In these delicious streames; + + Oft spreading Vines clime vp the Cleeues, + Whose ripned clusters there, 70 + Their liquid purple drop, which driues + A Vintage through the yeere. + + Those Cleeues whose craggy sides are clad + With Trees of sundry sutes, + Which make continuall summer glad, + Euen bending with their fruits, + + Some ripening, ready some to fall, + Some blossom'd, some to bloome, + Like gorgeous hangings on the wall + Of some rich princely Roome: 80 + + _Pomegranates_, _Lymons_, _Cytrons_, so + Their laded branches bow, + Their leaues in number that outgoe + Nor roomth will them alow. + + There in perpetuall Summers shade, + _Apolloes_ Prophets sit, + Among the flowres that neuer fade, + But flowrish like their wit; + + To whom the Nimphes vpon their Lyres, + Tune many a curious lay, 90 + And with their most melodious Quires + Make short the longest day. + + The _thrice three Virgins_ heavenly Cleere, + Their trembling Timbrels sound, + Whilst the three comely Graces there + Dance many a dainty Round, + + Decay nor Age there nothing knowes, + There is continuall Youth, + As Time on plant or creatures growes, + So still their strength renewth. 100 + + The Poets Paradice this is, + To which but few can come; + The Muses onely bower of blisse + Their Deare _Elizium_. + + Here happy soules, (their blessed bowers, + Free from the rude resort + Of beastly people) spend the houres, + In harmelesse mirth and sport, + + Then on to the _Elizian_ plaines + _Apollo_ doth invite you 110 + Where he prouides with pastorall straines, + In Nimphals to delight you. + + +The first Nimphall + +RODOPE and DORIDA. + + _This Nimphall of delights doth treat, + Choice beauties, and proportions neat, + Of curious shapes, and dainty features + Describd in two most perfect creatures._ + + When _Phœbus_ with a face of mirth, + Had flong abroad his beames, + To blanch the bosome of the earth, + And glaze the gliding streames. + Within a goodly Mertle groue, + Vpon that hallowed day + The Nimphes to the bright Queene of loue + Their vowes were vsde to pay. + Faire _Rodope_ and _Dorida_ + Met in those sacred shades, 10 + Then whom the Sunne in all his way, + Nere saw two daintier Maids. + And through the thickets thrild his fires, + Supposing to haue seene + The soueraigne _Goddesse of desires_, + Or _Ioves Emperious Queene_: + Both of so wondrous beauties were, + In shape both so excell, + That to be paraleld elsewhere, + No iudging eye could tell. 20 + And their affections so surpasse, + As well it might be deemd, + That th' one of them the other was, + And but themselues they seem'd. + And whilst the Nimphes that neare this place, + Disposed were to play + At Barly-breake and Prison-base, + Doe passe the time away: + This peerlesse payre together set, + The other at their sport, 30 + None neare their free discourse to let, + Each other thus they court, + + _Dorida._ My sweet, my soueraigne _Rodope_, + My deare delight, my loue, + That Locke of hayre thou sentst to me, + I to this Bracelet woue; + Which brighter euery day doth grow + The longer it is worne, + As its delicious fellowes doe, + Thy Temples that adorne. 40 + + _Rodope._ Nay had I thine my _Dorida_, + I would them so bestow, + As that the winde vpon my way, + Might backward make them flow, + So should it in its greatst excesse + Turne to becalmed ayre, + And quite forget all boistrousnesse + To play with euery hayre. + + _Dorida._ To me like thine had nature giuen, + A Brow, so Archt, so cleere, 50 + A Front, wherein so much of heauen + Doth to each eye appeare, + The world should see, I would strike dead + The Milky Way that's now, + And say that Nectar _Hebe_ shed + Fell all vpon my Brow. + + _Rodope._ O had I eyes like _Doridaes_, + I would inchant the day + And make the Sunne to stand at gaze, + Till he forget his way: 60 + And cause his Sister _Queene of Streames_, + When so I list by night; + By her much blushing at my Beames + T' eclipse her borrowed light. + + _Dorida._ Had I a Cheeke like _Rodopes_, + In midst of which doth stand, + A Groue of Roses, such as these, + In such a snowy land: + I would then make the Lilly which we now + So much for whitenesse name, 70 + As drooping downe the head to bow, + And die for very shame. + + _Rodope._ Had I a bosome like to thine, + When I it pleas'd to show, + T' what part o' th' Skie I would incline + I would make th' Etheriall bowe, + My swannish breast brancht all with blew, + In brauery like the spring: + In Winter to the generall view + Full Summer forth should bring. 80 + + _Dorida._ Had I a body like my deare, + Were I so straight so tall, + O, if so broad my shoulders were, + Had I a waste so small; + I would challenge the proud Queene of loue + To yeeld to me for shape, + And I should feare that _Mars_ or _Iove_ + Would venter for my rape. + + _Rodope._ Had I a hand like thee my Gerle, + (This hand O let me kisse) 90 + These Ivory Arrowes pyl'd with pearle, + Had I a hand like this; + I would not doubt at all to make, + Each finger of my hand + To taske swift _Mercury_ to take + With his inchanting wand. + + _Dorida._ Had I a Theigh like Rodopes; + Which twas my chance to viewe, + When lying on yon banck at ease, + The wind thy skirt vp blew, 100 + I would say it were a columne wrought + To some intent Diuine, + And for our chaste _Diana_ sought, + A pillar for her shryne. + + _Rodope._ Had I a Leg but like to thine + That were so neat, so cleane, + A swelling Calfe, a Small so fine, + An Ankle, round and leane, + I would tell nature she doth misse + Her old skill; and maintaine, 110 + She shewd her master peece in this, + Not to be done againe. + + _Dorida._ Had I that Foot hid in those shoos, + (Proportion'd to my height) + Short Heele, thin Instep, euen Toes, + A Sole so wondrous straight, + The Forresters and Nimphes at this + Amazed all should stand, + And kneeling downe, should meekely kisse + The Print left in the sand. 120 + + By this the Nimphes came from their sport, + All pleased wondrous well, + And to these Maydens make report + What lately them befell: + One said the dainty _Lelipa_ + Did all the rest out-goe, + Another would a wager lay + She would outstrip a Roe; + Sayes one, how like you _Florimel_ + There is your dainty face: 130 + A fourth replide, she lik't that well, + Yet better lik't her grace, + She's counted, I confesse, quoth she, + To be our onely Pearle, + Yet haue I heard her oft to be + A melancholy Gerle. + Another said she quite mistoke, + That onely was her art, + When melancholly had her looke + Then mirth was in her heart; 140 + And hath she then that pretty trick + Another doth reply, + I thought no Nimph could haue bin sick + Of that disease but I; + I know you can dissemble well + Quoth one to giue you due, + But here be some (who Ile not tell) + Can do't as well as you, + Who thus replies, I know that too, + We haue it from our Mother, 150 + Yet there be some this thing can doe + More cunningly then other: + If Maydens but dissemble can + Their sorrow and ther ioy, + Their pore dissimulation than, + Is but a very toy. + + +The second Nimphall + +LALVS, CLEON, and LIROPE. + + _The Muse new Courtship doth deuise, + By Natures strange Varieties, + Whose Rarieties she here relates, + And giues you Pastorall Delicates._ + + _Lalus_ a Iolly youthfull Lad, + With _Cleon_, no lesse crown'd + With vertues; both their beings had + On the Elizian ground. + Both hauing parts so excellent, + That it a question was, + Which should be the most eminent, + Or did in ought surpasse: + This _Cleon_ was a Mountaineer, + And of the wilder kinde, 10 + And from his birth had many a yeere + Bin nurst vp by a Hinde. + And as the sequell well did show, + It very well might be; + For neuer Hart, nor Hare, nor Roe, + Were halfe so swift as he. + But _Lalus_ in the Vale was bred, + Amongst the Sheepe and Neate, + And by these Nimphes there choicly fed, + With Hony, Milke, and Wheate; 20 + Of Stature goodly, faire of speech, + And of behauiour mylde, + Like those there in the Valley rich, + That bred him of a chyld. + Of Falconry they had the skill, + Their Halkes to feed and flye, + No better Hunters ere clome Hill, + Nor hollowed to a Cry: + In Dingles deepe, and Mountains hore, + Oft with the bearded Speare 30 + They combated the tusky Boare, + And slew the angry Beare. + In Musicke they were wondrous quaint, + Fine Aers they could deuise; + They very curiously could Paint, + And neatly Poetize; + That wagers many time were laid + On Questions that arose, + Which song the witty _Lalus_ made, + Which _Cleon_ should compose. 40 + The stately Steed they manag'd well, + Of Fence the art they knew, + For Dansing they did all excell + The Gerles that to them drew; + To throw the Sledge, to pitch the Barre, + To wrestle and to Run, + They all the Youth exceld so farre, + That still the Prize they wonne. + These sprightly Gallants lou'd a Lasse, + Cald _Lirope the bright_, 50 + In the whole world there scarcely was + So delicate a Wight, + There was no Beauty so diuine + That euer Nimph did grace, + But it beyond it selfe did shine + In her more heuenly face: + What forme she pleasd each thing would take + That ere she did behold, + Of Pebbles she could Diamonds make, + Grosse Iron turne to Gold: 60 + Such power there with her presence came + Sterne Tempests she alayd, + The cruell Tiger she could tame, + She raging Torrents staid, + She chid, she cherisht, she gaue life, + Againe she made to dye, + She raisd a warre, apeasd a Strife, + With turning of her eye. + Some said a God did her beget, + But much deceiu'd were they, 70 + Her Father was a _Riuelet_, + Her Mother was a _Fay_. + Her Lineaments so fine that were, + She from the Fayrie tooke, + Her Beauties and Complection cleere, + By nature from the Brooke. + These Ryualls wayting for the houre + (The weather calme and faire) + When as she vs'd to leaue her Bower + To take the pleasant ayre 80 + Acosting her; their complement + To her their Goddesse done; + By gifts they tempt her to consent, + When _Lalus_ thus begun. + + _Lalus._ Sweet _Lirope_ I haue a Lambe + Newly wayned from the Damme, +_* Without Of the right kinde, it is *notted, +hornes._ Naturally with purple spotted, + Into laughter it will put you, + To see how prettily 'twill But you; 90 + When on sporting it is set, + It will beate you a Corvet, + And at euery nimble bound + Turne it selfe aboue the ground; + When tis hungry it will bleate, + From your hand to haue its meate, + And when it hath fully fed, + It will fetch Iumpes aboue your head, + As innocently to expresse + Its silly sheepish thankfullnesse, 100 + When you bid it, it will play, + Be it either night or day, + This _Lirope_ I haue for thee, + So thou alone wilt liue with me. + + _Cleon._ From him O turne thine eare away, + And heare me my lou'd _Lirope_, + I haue a Kid as white as milke, + His skin as soft as _Naples_ silke, + His hornes in length are wondrous euen, + And curiously by nature writhen; 110 + It is of th' Arcadian kinde, + Ther's not the like twixt either _Inde_; + If you walke, 'twill walke you by, + If you sit downe, it downe will lye, + It with gesture will you wooe, + And counterfeit those things you doe; + Ore each Hillock it will vault, + And nimbly doe the Summer-sault, + Upon the hinder Legs 'twill goe, + And follow you a furlong so, 120 + And if by chance a Tune you roate, + 'Twill foote it finely to your note, + Seeke the worlde and you may misse + To finde out such a thing as this; + This my loue I haue for thee + So thou'lt leaue him and goe with me. + + _Lirope._ Beleeue me Youths your gifts are rare, + And you offer wondrous faire; + _Lalus_ for Lambe, _Cleon_ for Kyd, + 'Tis hard to iudge which most doth bid, 130 + And haue you two such things in store, + And I n'er knew of them before? + Well yet I dare a Wager lay + That _Brag_ my little Dog shall play, + As dainty tricks when I shall bid, + As _Lalus_ Lambe, or _Cleons_ Kid. + But t' may fall out that I may neede them + Till when yee may doe well to feed them; + Your Goate and Mutton pretty be + But Youths these are noe bayts for me, 140 + Alasse good men, in vaine ye wooe, + 'Tis not your Lambe nor Kid will doe. + + _Lalus._ I haue two Sparrowes white as Snow, + Whose pretty eyes like sparkes doe show; + In her Bosome _Venus_ hatcht them + Where her little _Cupid_ watcht them, + Till they too fledge their Nests forsooke + Themselues and to the Fields betooke, + Where by chance a Fowler caught them + Of whom I full dearely bought them; 150 +_* The redde They'll fetch you Conserue from the *Hip, +fruit of the And lay it softly on your Lip, +smooth Through their nibling bills they'll Chirup +Bramble._ And fluttering feed you with the Sirup, + And if thence you put them by + They to your white necke will flye, + And if you expulse them there + They'll hang vpon your braded Hayre; + You so long shall see them prattle + Till at length they'll fall to battle, 160 + And when they haue fought their fill, + You will smile to see them bill + These birds my _Lirope's_ shall be + So thou'lt leaue him and goe with me. + + _Cleon._ His Sparrowes are not worth a rush + I'le finde as good in euery bush, + Of Doues I haue a dainty paire + Which when you please to take the Air, + About your head shall gently houer + You Cleere browe from the Sunne to couer, 170 + And with their nimble wings shall fan you, + That neither Cold nor Heate shall tan you, + And like Vmbrellas with their feathers + Sheeld you in all sorts of weathers: + They be most dainty Coloured things, + They haue Damask backs and Chequerd wings, + Their neckes more Various Cullours showe + Then there be mixed in the Bowe; + _Venus_ saw the lesser Doue + And therewith was farre in Loue, 180 + Offering for't her goulden Ball + For her Sonne to play withall; + These my _Liropes_ shall be + So shee'll leaue him and goe with me. + + _Lirope._ Then for Sparrowes, and for Doues + I am fitted twixt my Loues, + But _Lalus_ I take no delight + In Sparowes, for they'll scratch and bite + And though ioynd, they are euer wooing + Alwayes billing, if not doeing, 190 + Twixt _Venus_ breasts if they haue lyen + I much feare they'll infect myne; + _Cleon_ your Doues are very dainty, + Tame Pidgeons else you know are plenty, + These may winne some of your Marrowes + I am not caught with Doues, nor Sparrowes, + I thanke ye kindly for your Coste, + Yet your labour is but loste. + + _Lalus._ With full-leau'd Lillies I will stick + Thy braded hayre all o'r so thick, 200 + That from it a Light shall throw + Like the Sunnes vpon the Snow. + Thy Mantle shall be Violet Leaues, + With the fin'st the Silkeworme weaues + As finely wouen; whose rich smell + The Ayre about thee so shall swell + That it shall haue no power to mooue. + A Ruffe of Pinkes thy Robe aboue + About thy necke so neatly set + That Art it cannot counterfet, 210 + Which still shall looke so Fresh and new, + As if vpon their Roots they grew: + And for thy head Ile haue a Tyer + Of netting, made of Strawbery wyer, + And in each knot that doth compose + A Mesh, shall stick a halfe blowne Rose, + Red, damaske, white, in order set + About the sides, shall run a Fret + Of Primroses, the Tyer throughout + With Thrift and Dayses frindgd about; 220 + All this faire Nimph Ile doe for thee, + So thou'lt leaue him and goe with me. + + _Cleon._ These be but weeds and Trash he brings, + Ile giue thee solid, costly things, + His will wither and be gone + Before thou well canst put them on; + With Currall I will haue thee Crown'd, + Whose Branches intricatly wound + Shall girt thy Temples euery way; + And on the top of euery Spray 230 + Shall stick a Pearle orient and great, + Which so the wandring Birds shall cheat, + That some shall stoope to looke for Cheries, + As other for tralucent Berries. + And wondering, caught e'r they be ware + In the curld Tramels of thy hayre: + And for thy necke a Christall Chaine + Whose lincks shapt like to drops of Raine, + Vpon thy panting Breast depending, + Shall seeme as they were still descending, 240 + And as thy breath doth come and goe, + So seeming still to ebbe and flow: + With Amber Bracelets cut like Bees, + Whose strange transparency who sees, + With Silke small as the Spiders Twist + Doubled so oft about thy Wrist, + Would surely thinke aliue they were, + From Lillies gathering hony there. + Thy Buskins Ivory, caru'd like Shels + Of Scallope, which as little Bels 250 + Made hollow, with the Ayre shall Chime, + And to thy steps shall keepe the time: + Leaue _Lalus_, _Lirope_ for me + And these shall thy rich dowry be. + + _Lirope._ _Lalus_ for Flowers. _Cleon_ for Iemmes, + For Garlands and for Diadems, + I shall be sped, why this is braue, + What Nimph can choicer Presents haue, + With dressing, brading, frowncing, flowring, + All your Iewels on me powring, 260 + In this brauery being drest, + To the ground I shall be prest, + That I doubt the Nimphes will feare me, + Nor will venture to come neare me; + Neuer Lady of the May, + To this houre was halfe so gay; + All in flowers, all so sweet, + From the Crowne, beneath the Feet, + Amber, Currall, Ivory, Pearle, + If this cannot win a Gerle, 270 + Ther's nothing can, and this ye wooe me, + Giue me your hands and trust ye to me, + (Yet to tell ye I am loth) + That I'le haue neither of you both; + + _Lalus._ When thou shalt please to stem the flood, + (As thou art of the watry brood) + I'le haue twelve Swannes more white than Snow, + Yokd for the purpose two and two, + To drawe thy Barge wrought of fine Reed + So well that it nought else shall need, 280 + The Traces by which they shall hayle + Thy Barge; shall be the winding trayle + Of woodbynd; whose braue Tasseld Flowers + (The Sweetnesse of the Woodnimphs Bowres) + Shall be the Trappings to adorne, + The Swannes, by which thy Barge is borne, + Of flowred Flags I'le rob the banke + Of water-Cans and King-cups ranck + To be the Couering of thy Boate, + And on the Streame as thou do'st Floate, 290 + The _Naiades_ that haunt the deepe, + Themselues about thy Barge shall keepe, + Recording most delightfull Layes, + By Sea Gods written in thy prayse. + And in what place thou hapst to land, + There the gentle Siluery sand, + Shall soften, curled with the Aier + As sensible of thy repayre: + This my deare loue I'le doe for thee, + So Thou'lt leaue him and goe with me: 300 + + _Cleon._ Tush Nimphe his Swannes will prove but Geese, + His Barge drinke water like a Fleece; + A Boat is base, I'le thee prouide, + A Chariot, wherein _Ioue_ may ride; + In which when brauely thou art borne, + Thou shalt looke like the gloryous morne + Vshering the Sunne, and such a one + As to this day was neuer none, + Of the Rarest Indian Gummes, + More pretious then your Balsamummes 310 + Which I by Art haue made so hard, + That they with Tooles may well be Caru'd + To make a Coach of: which shall be + Materyalls of this one for thee, + And of thy Chariot each small peece + Shall inlayd be with Amber Greece, + And guilded with the Yellow ore + Produc'd from _Tagus_ wealthy shore; + In which along the pleasant Lawne, + With twelue white Stags thou shalt be drawne, 320 + Whose brancht palmes of a stately height, + With seuerall nosegayes shall be dight; + And as thou ryd'st, thy Coach about, + For thy strong guard shall runne a Rout, + Of Estriges; whose Curled plumes, + Sen'sd with thy Chariots rich perfumes, + The scent into the Aier shall throw; + Whose naked Thyes shall grace the show; + Whilst the Woodnimphs and those bred + Vpon the mountayns, o'r thy head 330 + Shall beare a Canopy of flowers, + Tinseld with drops of Aprill showers, + Which shall make more glorious showes + Then spangles, or your siluer Oas; + This bright nimph I'le doe for thee + So thou'lt leaue him and goe with me. + + _Lirope._ Vie and reuie, like Chapmen profer'd, + Would't be receaued what you haue offer'd; + Ye greater honour cannot doe me, + If not building Altars to me: 340 + Both by Water and by Land, + Bardge and Chariot at command; + Swans vpon the Streame to rawe me, + Stags vpon the Land to drawe me, + In all this Pompe should I be seene, + What a pore thing were a Queene: + All delights in such excesse, + As but yee, who can expresse: + Thus mounted should the Nimphes me see, + All the troope would follow me, 350 + Thinking by this state that I + Would asume a Deitie. + There be some in loue haue bin, + And I may commit that sinne, + And if e'r I be in loue, + With one of you I feare twill proue, + But with which I cannot tell, + So my gallant Youths farewell. + + +The third Nimphall + + DORON. NAIJS. CLORIS. CLAIA. + DORILVS. CLOE. MERTILLA. + FLORIMEL. + + With Nimphes and Forresters. + + _Poetick Raptures, sacred fires, + With which _Apollo_ his inspires, + This Nimphall gives you; and withall + Obserues the Muses Festivall._ + + Amongst th' Elizians many mirthfull Feasts, + At which the Muses are the certaine guests, + Th' obserue one Day with most Emperiall state, + To wise _Apollo_ which they dedicate, + The Poets God; and to his Alters bring + Th' enamel'd Brauery of the beauteous spring, + And strew their Bowers with euery precious sweet, + Which still wax fresh, most trod on with their feet; + With most choice flowers each Nimph doth brade her hayre, + And not the mean'st but bauldrick wise doth weare 10 + Some goodly Garland, and the most renown'd + With curious Roseat Anadems are crown'd. + These being come into the place where they + Yearely obserue the Orgies to that day, + The Muses from their Heliconian spring + Their brimfull Mazers to the feasting bring: + When with deepe Draughts out of those plenteous Bowles, + The iocond Youth haue swild their thirsty soules, + They fall enraged with a sacred heat, + And when their braines doe once begin to sweat 20 + They into braue and Stately numbers breake, + And not a word that any one doth speake + But tis Prophetick, and so strangely farre + In their high fury they transported are, + As there's not one, on any thing can straine, + But by another answred is againe + In the same Rapture, which all sit to heare; + When as two Youths that soundly liquord were, + _Dorilus_ and _Doron_, two as noble swayns + As euer kept on the Elizian playns, 30 + First by their signes attention hauing woonne, + Thus they the Reuels frolikly begunne. + + Doron. _Come _Dorilus_, let vs be brave, + In lofty numbers let vs raue, + With Rymes I will inrich thee._ + + Dorilus. _Content say I, then bid the base, + Our wits shall runne the Wildgoosechase, + Spurre vp, or I will swich thee._ + + Doron. _The Sunne out of the East doth peepe, + And now the day begins to creepe, 40 + Vpon the world at leasure._ + + Dorilus. _The Ayre enamor'd of the Greaues, + The West winde stroaks the velvit leaues + And kisses them at pleasure._ + + Doron. _The spinners webs twixt spray and spray, + The top of euery bush make gay, + By filmy coards there dangling._ + + Dorilus. _For now the last dayes euening dew + Euen to the full it selfe doth shew, + Each bough with Pearle bespangling._ 50 + + Doron. _O Boy how thy abundant vaine + Euen like a Flood breaks from thy braine, + Nor can thy Muse be gaged._ + + Dorilus. _Why nature forth did neuer bring + A man that like to me can sing, + If once I be enraged._ + + Doron. _Why _Dorilus_ I in my skill + Can make the swiftest Streame stand still, + Nay beare back to his springing._ + + Dorilus. _And I into a Trance most deepe 60 + Can cast the Birds that they shall sleepe + When fain'st they would be singing._ + + Doron. _Why _Dorilus_ thou mak'st me mad, + And now my wits begin to gad, + But sure I know not whither._ + + Dorilus. _O _Doron_ let me hug thee then, + There neuer was two madder men, + Then let vs on together._ + + Doron. Hermes _the winged Horse bestrid, + And thorow thick and thin he rid, 70 + And floundred throw the Fountaine._ + + Dorilus. _He spurd the Tit vntill he bled, + So that at last he ran his head + Against the forked Mountaine,_ + + Doron. _How sayst thou, but pyde _Iris_ got + Into great _Iunos_ Chariot, + I spake with one that saw her._ + + Dorilus. _And there the pert and sawcy Elfe, + Behau'd her as twere _Iuno's_ selfe, + And made the Peacocks draw her._ 80 + + Doron. _Ile borrow _Phœbus_ fiery Iades, + With which about the world he trades, + And put them in my Plow._ + + Dorilus. _O thou most perfect frantique man, + Yet let thy rage be what it can, + Ile be as mad as thou._ + + Doron. _Ile to great _Iove_, hap good, hap ill, + Though he with Thunder threat to kill, + And beg of him a boone._ + + Dorilus. _To swerue vp one of _Cynthias_ beames, 90 + And there to bath thee in the streames. + Discouerd in the Moone._ + + Doron. _Come frolick Youth and follow me, + My frantique boy, and Ile show thee + The Countrey of the Fayries._ + + Dorilus. _The fleshy Mandrake where't doth grow + In noonshade of the Mistletow, + And where the Phœnix Aryes._ + + Doron. _Nay more, the Swallowes winter bed, + The Caverns where the Winds are bred, 100 + Since thus thou talkst of showing._ + + Dorilus. _And to those Indraughts Ile thee bring, + That wondrous and eternall spring + Whence th' Ocean hath its flowing._ + + Doron. _We'll downe to the darke house of sleepe, + Where snoring _Morpheus_ doth keepe, + And wake the drowsy Groome._ + + Dorilus. _Downe shall the Dores and Windowes goe, + The Stooles vpon the Floare we'll throw, + And roare about the Roome._ 110 + + The Muses here commanded them to stay, + Commending much the caridge of their Lay + As greatly pleasd at this their madding Bout, + To heare how brauely they had borne it out + From first to the last, of which they were right glad, + By this they found that _Helicon_ still had + That vertue it did anciently retaine + When _Orpheus Lynus_ and th' Ascrean Swaine + Tooke lusty Rowses, which hath made their Rimes, + To last so long to all succeeding times. 120 + And now amongst this beauteous Beauie here, + Two wanton Nimphes, though dainty ones they were, + _Naijs_ and _Cloe_ in their female fits + Longing to show the sharpnesse of their wits, + Of the _nine Sisters_ speciall leaue doe craue + That the next Bout they two might freely haue, + Who hauing got the suffrages of all, + Thus to their Rimeing instantly they fall. + + Naijs. _Amongst you all let us see + Who ist opposes mee, 130 + Come on the proudest she + To answere my dittye._ + + Cloe. _Why _Naijs_, that am I, + Who dares thy pride defie. + And that we soone shall try + Though thou be witty._ + + Naijs. Cloe _I scorne my Rime + Should obserue feet or time, + Now I fall, then I clime, + Where i'st I dare not._ 140 + + Cloe. _Giue thy Invention wing, + And let her flert and fling, + Till downe the Rocks she ding, + For that I care not._ + + Naijs. _This presence delights me, + My freedome inuites me, + The Season excytes me, + In Rime to be merry._ + + Cloe. _And I beyond measure, + Am rauisht with pleasure, 150 + To answer each Ceasure, + Untill thou beist weary._ + + Naijs. _Behold the Rosye Dawne, + Rises in Tinsild Lawne, + And smiling seemes to fawne, + Vpon the mountaines._ + + Cloe. _Awaked from her Dreames, + Shooting foorth goulden Beames + Dansing vpon the Streames + Courting the Fountaines._ 160 + + Naijs. _These more then sweet Showrets, + Intice vp these Flowrets, + To trim vp our Bowrets, + Perfuming our Coats._ + + Cloe. _Whilst the Birds billing + Each one with his Dilling + The thickets still filling + With Amorous Noets._ + + Naijs. _The Bees vp in hony rould, + More then their thighes can hould, 170 + Lapt in their liquid gould, + Their Treasure vs Bringing._ + + Cloe. _To these Rillets purling + Vpon the stones Curling, + And oft about wherling, + Dance tow'ard their springing._ + + Naijs. _The Wood-Nimphes sit singing, + Each Groue with notes ringing + Whilst fresh Ver is flinging + Her Bounties abroad._ 180 + + Cloe. _So much as the Turtle, + Upon the low Mertle, + To the meads fertle, + Her cares doth unload._ + + Naijs. _Nay 'tis a world to see, + In euery bush and Tree, + The Birds with mirth and glee, + Woo'd as they woe._ + + Cloe. _The Robin and the Wren, + Every Cocke with his Hen, 190 + Why should not we and men, + Doe as they doe._ + + Naijs. _The Faires are hopping, + The small Flowers cropping, + And with dew dropping, + Skip thorow the Greaues._ + + Cloe. _At Barly-breake they play + Merrily all the day, + At night themselues they lay + Vpon the soft leaues._ 200 + + Naijs. _The gentle winds sally, + Vpon every Valley, + And many times dally + And wantonly sport._ + + Cloe. _About the fields tracing, + Each other in chasing, + And often imbracing, + In amorous sort._ + + Naijs. _And Eccho oft doth tell + Wondrous things from her Cell, 210 + As her what chance befell, + Learning to prattle._ + + Cloe. _And now she sits and mocks + The Shepherds and their flocks, + And the Heards from the Rocks + Keeping their Cattle._ + + When to these Maids the Muses silence cry, + For 'twas the opinion of the Company, + That were not these two taken of, that they + Would in their Conflict wholly spend the day. 220 + When as the Turne to _Florimel_ next came, + A Nimph for Beauty of especiall name, + Yet was she not so Iolly as the rest: + And though she were by her companions prest, + Yet she by no intreaty would be wrought + To sing, as by th' Elizian Lawes she ought: + When two bright Nimphes that her companions were, + And of all other onely held her deare, + Mild _Claris_ and _Mertilla_, with faire speech + Their most beloued _Florimel_ beseech, 230 + T'obserue the Muses, and the more to wooe her, + They take their turnes, and thus they sing vnto her. + + Cloris. _Sing, _Florimel_, O sing, and wee + Our whole wealth will giue to thee, + We'll rob the brim of euery Fountaine, + Strip the sweets from euery Mountaine, + We will sweepe the curled valleys, + Brush the bancks that mound our allyes, + We will muster natures dainties + When she wallowes in her plentyes, 240 + The lushyous smell of euery flower + New washt by an Aprill shower, + The Mistresse of her store we'll make thee + That she for her selfe shall take thee; + Can there be a dainty thing, + That's not thine if thou wilt sing._ + + Mertilla. _When the dew in May distilleth, + And the Earths rich bosome filleth, + And with Pearle embrouds each Meadow, + We will make them like a widow, 250 + And in all their Beauties dresse thee, + And of all their spoiles possesse thee, + With all the bounties Zephyre brings, + Breathing on the yearely springs, + The gaudy bloomes of euery Tree + In their most beauty when they be, + What is here that may delight thee, + Or to pleasure may excite thee, + Can there be a dainty thing + That's not thine if thou wilt sing._ 260 + + But _Florimel_ still sullenly replyes + I will not sing at all, let that suffice: + When as a Nimph one of the merry ging + Seeing she no way could be wonne to sing; + Come, come, quoth she, ye vtterly vndoe her + With your intreaties, and your reuerence to her; + For praise nor prayers, she careth not a pin; + They that our froward _Florimel_ would winne, + Must worke another way, let me come to her, + Either Ile make her sing, or Ile vndoe her. 270 + + Claia. Florimel _I thus coniure thee, + Since their gifts cannot alure thee; + By stampt Garlick, that doth stink + Worse then common Sewer, or Sink, + By Henbane, Dogsbane, Woolfsbane, sweet + As any Clownes or Carriers feet, + By stinging Nettles, pricking Teasels + Raysing blisters like the measels, + By the rough Burbreeding docks, + Rancker then the oldest Fox, 280 + By filthy Hemblock, poysning more + Then any vlcer or old sore, + By the Cockle in the corne, + That smels farre worse then doth burnt horne, + By Hempe in water that hath layne, + By whose stench the Fish are slayne, + By Toadflax which your Nose may tast, + If you haue a minde to cast, + May all filthy stinking Weeds + That e'r bore leafe, or e'r had seeds,_ 290 + Florimel _be giuen to thee, + If thou'lt not sing as well as wee._ + + At which the Nimphs to open laughter fell, + Amongst the rest the beauteous _Florimel_, + (Pleasd with the spell from _Claia_ that came, + A mirthfull Gerle and giuen to sport and game) + As gamesome growes as any of them all, + And to this ditty instantly doth fall. + + Florimel. _How in my thoughts should I contriue + The Image I am framing, 300 + Which is so farre superlatiue, + As tis beyond all naming; + I would _Ioue_ of my counsell make, + And haue his judgement in it, + But that I doubt he would mistake + How rightly to begin it, + It must be builded in the Ayre, + And tis my thoughts must doo it, + And onely they must be the stayre + From earth to mount me to it, 310 + For of my Sex I frame my Lay, + Each houre, our selues forsaking, + How should I then finde out the way + To this my vndertaking, + When our weake Fancies working still, + Yet changing every minnit, + Will shew that it requires some skill, + Such difficulty's in it. + We would things, yet we know not what, + And let our will be granted, 320 + Yet instantly we finde in that + Something vnthought of wanted: + Our ioyes and hopes such shadowes are, + As with our motions varry, + Which when we oft haue fetcht from farre, + With us they neuer tarry: + Some worldly crosse doth still attend, + What long we haue in spinning, + And e'r we fully get the end + We lose of our beginning. 330 + Our pollicies so peevish are, + That with themselues they wrangle, + And many times become the snare + That soonest vs intangle; + For that the Loue we beare our Friends + Though nere so strongly grounded, + Hath in it certaine oblique ends + If to the bottome sounded: + Our owne well wishing making it, + A pardonable Treason; 340 + For that is deriud from witt, + And vnderpropt with reason. + For our Deare selues beloued sake + (Euen in the depth of passion) + Our Center though our selues we make, + Yet is not that our station; + For whilst our Browes ambitious be + And youth at hand awayts vs, + It is a pretty thing to see + How finely Beautie cheats vs, 350 + And whilst with tyme we tryfling stand + To practise Antique graces + Age with a pale and withered hand + Drawes Furowes in our faces._ + + When they which so desirous were before + To hear her sing; desirous are far more + To haue her cease; and call to haue her stayd + For she to much alredy had bewray'd. + And as the _thrice three Sisters_ thus had grac'd + Their Celebration, and themselues had plac'd 360 + Vpon a Violet banck, in order all + Where they at will might view the Festifall + The Nimphs and all the lusty youth that were + At this braue Nimphall, by them honored there, + To Gratifie the heauenly Gerles againe + Lastly prepare in state to entertaine + Those sacred Sisters, fairely and confer, + On each of them, their prayse particular + And thus the Nimphes to the nine Muses sung. + When as the Youth and Forresters among 370 + That well prepared for this businesse were, + Become the _Chorus_, and thus sung they there. + + Nimphes. Clio _then first of those Celestiall nine + That daily offer to the sacred shryne, + Of wise _Apollo_; Queene of Stories, + Thou that vindicat'st the glories + Of passed ages, and renewst + Their acts which euery day thou viewst, + And from a lethargy dost keepe + Old nodding time, else prone to sleepe._ 380 + + Chorus. Clio _O craue of _Phœbus_ to inspire + Vs, for his Altars with his holiest fire, + And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes + Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes._ + + Nimphes. Melpomine _thou melancholly Maid + Next, to wise _Phœbus_ we inuoke thy ayd, + In Buskins that dost stride the Stage, + And in thy deepe distracted rage, + In blood-shed that dost take delight, + Thy obiect the most fearfull sight, 390 + That louest the sighes, the shreekes, and sounds + Of horrors, that arise from wounds._ + + Chorus. _Sad Muse, O craue of _Phœbus_ to inspire + Vs for his Altars, with his holiest fire, + And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes + Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes._ + + Nimphes. _Comick _Thalia_ then we come to thee, + Thou mirthfull Mayden, onely that in glee + And loues deceits, thy pleasure tak'st, + Of which thy varying Scene that mak'st 400 + And in thy nimble Sock do'st stirre + Loude laughter through the Theater, + That with the Peasant mak'st the sport, + As well as with the better sort._ + + Chorus. Thalia _craue of _Phœbus_ to inspire + Vs for his Alters with his holyest fier; + And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes + Giue life, and growth to our Elizian Bayes._ + + Nimphes. Euterpe _next to thee we will proceed, + That first sound'st out the Musick on the Reed, 410 + With breath and fingers giu'ng life, + To the shrill Cornet and the Fyfe. + Teaching euery stop and kaye, + To those vpon the Pipe that playe, + Those which Wind-Instruments we call + Or soft, or lowd, or greate, or small,_ + + Chorus. Euterpe _aske of _Phebus_ to inspire, + Vs for his Alters with his holyest fire + And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes + Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes._ 420 + + Nimphes. Terpsichore _that of the Lute and Lyre, + And Instruments that sound with Cords and wyere, + That art the Mistres, to commaund + The touch of the most Curious hand, + When euery Quauer doth Imbrace + His like in a true Diapase, + And euery string his sound doth fill + Toucht with the Finger or the Quill._ + + Chorus. Terpsichore, _craue _Phebus_ to inspire + Vs for his Alters with his holyest fier 430 + And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes + Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes._ + + Nimphes. _Then _Erato_ wise muse on thee we call, + In Lynes to vs that do'st demonstrate all, + Which neatly, with thy staffe and Bowe, + Do'st measure, and proportion showe; + Motion and Gesture that dost teach + That euery height and depth canst reach, + And do'st demonstrate by thy Art + What nature else would not Impart._ 440 + + Chorus. _Deare _Erato_ craue _Phebus_ to inspire + Vs for his Alters with his holyest fire, + And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes, + Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes._ + + Nimphes. _To thee then braue _Caliope_ we come + Thou that maintain'st, the Trumpet, and the Drum; + The neighing Steed that louest to heare, + Clashing of Armes doth please thine eare, + In lofty Lines that do'st rehearse + Things worthy of a thundring verse, 450 + And at no tyme are heard to straine, + On ought that suits a Common vayne._ + + Chorus. Caliope_, craue _Phebus_ to inspire, + Vs for his Alters with his holyest fier, + And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes, + Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes._ + + Nimphes. _Then _Polyhymnia_ most delicious Mayd, + In Rhetoricks Flowers that art arayd, + In Tropes and Figures, richly drest, + The Fyled Phrase that louest best, 460 + That art all Elocution, and + The first that gau'st to vnderstand + The force of wordes in order plac'd + And with a sweet deliuery grac'd._ + + Chorus. _Sweet Muse perswade our _Phœbus_ to inspire + Vs for his Altars, with his holiest fire, + And let his glorious euer shining Rayes + Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes._ + + Nimphes. _Lofty _Vrania_ then we call to thee, + To whom the Heauens for euer opened be, 470 + Thou th' Asterismes by name dost call, + And shewst when they doe rise and fall + Each Planets force, and dost diuine + His working, seated in his Signe, + And how the starry Frame still roules + Betwixt the fixed stedfast Poles._ + + Chorus. Vrania _aske of _Phœbus_ to inspire + Vs for his Altars with his holiest fire, + And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes + Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes._ 480 + + +The fourth Nimphall + +CLORIS and MERTILLA. + + _Chaste _Cloris_ doth disclose the shames + Of the Felician frantique Dames,_ + Mertilla _striues t' apease her woe, + To golden wishes then they goe._ + + _Mertilla._ Why how now _Cloris_, what, thy head + Bound with forsaken Willow? + Is the cold ground become thy bed? + The grasse become thy Pillow? + O let not those life-lightning eyes + In this sad vayle be shrowded, + Which into mourning puts the Skyes, + To see them ouer-clowded. + + _Cloris._ O my _Mertilla_ doe not praise + These Lampes so dimly burning, 10 + Such sad and sullen lights as these + Were onely made for mourning: + Their obiects are the barren Rocks + With aged Mosse o'r shaded; + Now whilst the Spring layes forth her Locks + With blossomes brauely braded. + + _Mertilla._ O _Cloris_, Can there be a Spring, + O my deare Nimph, there may not, + Wanting thine eyes it forth to bring, + Without which Nature cannot: 20 + Say what it is that troubleth thee + Encreast by thy concealing, + Speake; sorrowes many times we see + Are lesned by reuealing. + + _Cloris._ Being of late too vainely bent + And but at too much leisure; + Not with our Groves and Downes content, + But surfetting in pleasure; + Felicia's Fields I would goe see, + Where fame to me reported, 30 + The choyce Nimphes of the world to be + From meaner beauties sorted; + Hoping that I from them might draw + Some graces to delight me, + But there such monstrous shapes I saw, + That to this houre affright me. + Throw the thick Hayre, that thatch'd their Browes, + Their eyes vpon me stared, + Like to those raging frantique Froes + For _Bacchus_ Feasts prepared: 40 + Their Bodies, although straight by kinde, + Yet they so monstrous make them, + That for huge Bags blowne vp with wind, + You very well may take them. + Their Bowels in their Elbowes are, + Whereon depend their Panches, + And their deformed Armes by farre + Made larger than their Hanches: + For their behauiour and their grace, + Which likewise should haue priz'd them, 50 + Their manners were as beastly base + As th' rags that so disguisd them; + All Anticks, all so impudent, + So fashon'd out of fashion, + As blacke _Cocytus_ vp had sent + Her Fry into this nation, + Whose monstrousnesse doth so perplex, + Of Reason and depriues me, + That for their sakes I loath my sex, + Which to this sadnesse driues me. 60 + + _Mertilla._ O my deare _Cloris_ be not sad, + Nor with these Furies danted, + But let these female fooles be mad, + With Hellish pride inchanted; + Let not thy noble thoughts descend + So low as their affections; + Whom neither counsell can amend, + Nor yet the Gods corrections: + Such mad folks ne'r let vs bemoane, + But rather scorne their folly, 70 + And since we two are here alone, + To banish melancholly, + Leaue we this lowly creeping vayne + Not worthy admiration, + And in a braue and lofty strayne, + Lets exercise our passion, + With wishes of each others good, + From our abundant treasures, + And in this iocund sprightly mood: + Thus alter we our measures. 80 + + _Mertilla._ O I could wish this place were strewd with Roses, + And that this Banck were thickly thrumd with Grasse + As soft as Sleaue, or Sarcenet euer was, + Whereon my _Cloris_ her sweet selfe reposes. + + _Cloris._ O that these Dewes Rosewater were for thee, + These Mists Perfumes that hang vpon these thicks, + And that the Winds were all Aromaticks, + Which, if my wish could make them, they should bee. + + _Mertilla._ O that my Bottle one whole Diamond were, + So fild with Nectar that a Flye might sup, 90 + And at one draught that thou mightst drinke it vp, + Yet a Carouse not good enough I feare. + + _Cloris._ That all the Pearle, the Seas, or Indias haue + Were well dissolu'd, and thereof made a Lake, + Thou there in bathing, and I by to take + Pleasure to see thee cleerer than the Waue. + + _Mertilla._ O that the Hornes of all the Heards we see, + Were of fine gold, or else that euery horne + Were like to that one of the Vnicorne, + And of all these, not one but were thy Fee. 100 + + _Cloris._ O that their Hooues were Iuory, or some thing, + Then the pur'st Iuory farre more Christalline, + Fild with the food wherewith the Gods doe dine, + To keepe thy Youth in a continuall Spring. + + _Mertilla._ O that the sweets of all the Flowers that grow, + The labouring ayre would gather into one, + In Gardens, Fields, nor Meadowes leauing none, + And all their Sweetnesse vpon thee would throw. + + _Cloris._ Nay that those sweet harmonious straines we heare, + Amongst the liuely Birds melodious Layes, 110 + As they recording sit vpon the Sprayes, + Were houering still for Musick at thine eare. + + _Mertilla._ O that thy name were caru'd on euery Tree, + That as these plants still great, and greater grow, + Thy name deare Nimph might be enlarged so, + That euery Groue and Coppis might speake thee. + + _Cloris._ Nay would thy name vpon their Rynds were set, + And by the Nimphes so oft and lowdly spoken, + As that the Ecchoes to that language broken + Thy happy name might hourely counterfet. 120 + + _Mertilla._ O let the Spring still put sterne winter by, + And in rich Damaske let her Reuell still, + As it should doe if I might haue my will, + That thou mightst still walke on her Tapistry; + And thus since Fate no longer time alowes + Vnder this broad and shady Sicamore, + Where now we sit, as we haue oft before; + Those yet vnborne shall offer vp their Vowes. + + +The fift Nimphall + +CLAIA, LELIPA, CLARINAX a Hermit. + + + _Of Garlands, Anadems, and Wreathes, + This Nimphall nought but sweetnesse breathes, + Presents you with delicious Posies, + And with powerfull Simples closes._ + + _Claia._ See where old _Clarinax_ is set, + His sundry Simples sorting, + From whose experience we may get + What worthy is reporting. + Then _Lelipa_ let vs draw neere, + Whilst he his weedes is weathering, + I see some powerfull Simples there + That he hath late bin gathering. + Hail gentle Hermit, _Iove_ thee speed, + And haue thee in his keeping, 10 + And euer helpe thee at thy need, + Be thou awake or sleeping. + + _Clarinax._ Ye payre of most Celestiall lights, + O Beauties three times burnisht, + Who could expect such heauenly wights + With Angels features furnisht; + What God doth guide you to this place, + To blesse my homely Bower? + It cannot be but this high grace + Proceeds from some high power; 20 + The houres like hand-maids still attend, + Disposed at your pleasure, + Ordayned to noe other end + But to awaite your leasure; + The Deawes drawne vp into the Aer, + And by your breathes perfumed, + In little Clouds doe houer there + As loath to be consumed: + The Aer moues not but as you please, + So much sweet Nimphes it owes you, 30 + The winds doe cast them to their ease, + And amorously inclose you. + + _Lelipa._ Be not too lauish of thy praise, + Thou good Elizian Hermit, + Lest some to heare such words as these, + Perhaps may flattery tearme it; + But of your Simples something say, + Which may discourse affoord vs, + We know your knowledge lyes that way, + With subiects you haue stor'd vs. 40 + + _Claia._ We know for Physick yours you get, + Which thus you heere are sorting, + And vpon garlands we are set, + With Wreathes and Posyes sporting: + + _Lelipa._ The Chaplet and the Anadem, + The curled Tresses crowning, + We looser Nimphes delight in them, + Not in your Wreathes renowning. + + _Clarinax._ The Garland long agoe was worne, + As Time pleased to bestow it, 50 + The Lawrell onely to adorne + The Conquerer and the Poet. + The Palme his due, who vncontrould, + On danger looking grauely, + When Fate had done the worst it could, + Who bore his Fortunes brauely. + Most worthy of the Oken Wreath + The Ancients him esteemed, + Who in a Battle had from death + Some man of worth redeemed. 60 + About his temples Grasse they tye, + Himselfe that so behaued + In some strong Seedge by th' Enemy, + A City that hath saued. + A Wreath of Vervaine Herhauts weare, + Amongst our Garlands named, + Being sent that dreadfull newes to beare, + Offensiue warre proclaimed. + The Signe of Peace who first displayes, + The Oliue Wreath possesses: 70 + The Louer with the Myrtle Sprayes + Adornes his crisped Tresses. + In Loue the sad forsaken wight + The Willow Garland weareth: + The Funerall man befitting night, + The balefull Cipresse beareth. + To _Pan_ we dedicate the Pine, + Whose Slips the Shepherd graceth: + Againe the Ivie and the Vine + On his, swolne _Bacchus_ placeth. 80 + + _Claia._ The Boughes and Sprayes, of which you tell, + By you are rightly named, + But we with those of pretious smell + And colours are enflamed; + The noble Ancients to excite + Men to doe things worth crowning, + Not vnperformed left a Rite, + To heighten their renowning: + But they that those rewards deuis'd, + And those braue wights that wore them 90 + By these base times, though poorely priz'd, + Yet Hermit we adore them. + The store of euery fruitfull Field + We Nimphes at will possessing, + From that variety they yeeld + Get flowers for euery dressing: + Of which a Garland Ile compose, + Then busily attend me. + These flowers I for that purpose chose, + But where I misse amend me. 100 + + _Clarinax._ Well _Claia_ on with your intent, + Lets see how you will weaue it, + Which done, here for a monument + I hope with me, you'll leaue it. + + _Claia._ Here Damaske Roses, white and red, + Out of my lap first take I, + Which still shall runne along the thred, + My chiefest Flower this make I: + Amongst these Roses in a row, + Next place I Pinks in plenty, 110 + These double Daysyes then for show, + And will not this be dainty. + The pretty Pansy then Ile tye + Like Stones some Chaine inchasing, + And next to them their neere Alye, + The purple Violet placing. + The curious choyce, Clove Iuly-flower, + Whose kinds hight the Carnation + For sweetnesse of most soueraine power + Shall helpe my Wreath to fashion. 120 + Whose sundry cullers of one kinde + First from one Root derived, + Them in their seuerall sutes Ile binde, + My Garland so contriued; + A course of Cowslips then I'll stick, + And here and there though sparely + The pleasant Primrose downe Ile prick + Like Pearles, which will show rarely: + Then with these Marygolds Ile make + My Garland somewhat swelling, 130 + These Honysuckles then Ile take, + Whose sweets shall helpe their smelling: + The Lilly and the Flower delice, + For colour much contenting, + For that, I them doe only prize, + They are but pore in senting: + The Daffadill most dainty is + To match with these in meetnesse; + The Columbyne compar'd to this, + All much alike for sweetnesse. 140 + These in their natures onely are + Fit to embosse the border, + Therefore Ile take especiall care + To place them in their order: + Sweet-Williams, Campions, Sops-in-Wine + One by another neatly: + Thus haue I made this Wreath of mine, + And finished it featly. + + _Lelipa._ Your Garland thus you finisht haue, + Then as we haue attended 150 + Your leasure, likewise let me craue + I may the like be friended. + Those gaudy garish Flowers you chuse, + In which our Nimphes are flaunting, + Which they at Feasts and Brydals vse, + The sight and smell inchanting: + A Chaplet me of Hearbs Ile make + Then which though yours be brauer, + Yet this of myne I'le vndertake + Shall not be short in fauour. 160 + With Basill then I will begin, + Whose scent is wondrous pleasing, + This Eglantine I'le next put in, + The sense with sweetnes seasing. + Then in my Lauender I'le lay, + Muscado put among it, + And here and there a leafe of Bay, + Which still shall runne along it. + Germander, Marieram, and Tyme + Which vsed are for strewing, 170 + With Hisop as an hearbe most pryme + Here in my wreath bestowing. + Then Balme and Mynt helps to make vp + My Chaplet, and for Tryall, + Costmary that so likes the Cup, + And next it Penieryall + Then Burnet shall beare vp with this + Whose leafe I greatly fansy, + Some Camomile doth not amisse, + With Sauory and some Tansy, 180 + Then heere and there I'le put a sprig + Of Rosemary into it + Thus not too little or too big + Tis done if I can doe it. + + _Clarinax._ _Claia_ your Garland is most gaye, + Compos'd of curious Flowers, + And so most louely _Lelipa_, + This Chaplet is of yours, + In goodly Gardens yours you get + Where you your laps haue laded; 190 + My symples are by Nature set, + In Groues and Fields vntraded. + Your Flowers most curiously you twyne, + Each one his place supplying. + But these rough harsher Hearbs of mine, + About me rudely lying, + Of which some dwarfish Weeds there be, + Some of a larger stature, + Some by experience as we see, + Whose names expresse their nature, 200 + Heere is my Moly of much fame, + In Magicks often vsed, + Mugwort and Night-shade for the same + But not by me abused; + Here Henbane, Popy, Hemblock here, + Procuring Deadly sleeping, + Which I doe minister with Feare, + Not fit for each mans keeping. + Heere holy Veruayne, and heere Dill, + Against witchcraft much auailing. 210 + Here Horhound gainst the Mad dogs ill + By biting, neuer failing. + Here Mandrake that procureth loue, + In poysning philters mixed, + And makes the Barren fruitfull proue, + The Root about them fixed. + Inchaunting Lunary here lyes + In Sorceries excelling, + And this is Dictam, which we prize + Shot shafts and Darts expelling, 220 + Here Saxifrage against the stone + That Powerfull is approued, + Here Dodder by whose helpe alone, + Ould Agues are remoued + Here Mercury, here Helibore, + Ould Vlcers mundifying, + And Shepheards-Purse the Flux most sore, + That helpes by the applying; + Here wholsome Plantane, that the payne + Of Eyes and Eares appeases; 230 + Here cooling Sorrell that againe + We vse in hot diseases: + The medcinable Mallow here, + Asswaging sudaine Tumors, + The iagged Polypodium there, + To purge ould rotten humors, + Next these here Egremony is, + That helpes the Serpents byting, + The blessed Betony by this, + Whose cures deseruen writing: 240 + This All-heale, and so nam'd of right, + New wounds so quickly healing, + A thousand more I could recyte, + Most worthy of Reuealing, + But that I hindred am by Fate, + And busnesse doth preuent me, + To cure a mad man, which of late + Is from Felicia sent me. + + _Claia._ Nay then thou hast inough to doe, + We pity thy enduring, 250 + For they are there infected soe, + That they are past thy curing. + + +The sixt Nimphall + +SILVIVS, HALCIVS, MELANTHVS. + + _A Woodman, Fisher, and a Swaine + This Nimphall through with mirth maintaine, + Whose pleadings so the Nimphes doe please, + That presently they giue them Bayes._ + + Cleere had the day bin from the dawne, + All chequerd was the Skye, + Thin Clouds like Scarfs of Cobweb Lawne + Vayld Heauen's most glorious eye. + The Winde had no more strength then this, + That leasurely it blew, + To make one leafe the next to kisse, + That closly by it grew. + The Rils that on the Pebbles playd, + Might now be heard at will; 10 + This world they onely Musick made, + Else euerything was still. + The Flowers like braue embraudred Gerles, + Lookt as they much desired, + To see whose head with orient Pearles, + Most curiously was tyred; + And to it selfe the subtle Ayre, + Such souerainty assumes, + That it receiu'd too large a share + From natures rich perfumes. 20 + When the Elizian Youth were met, + That were of most account, + And to disport themselues were set + Vpon an easy Mount: + Neare which, of stately Firre and Pine + There grew abundant store, + The Tree that weepeth Turpentine, + And shady Sicamore. + Amongst this merry youthfull trayne + A Forrester they had, 30 + A Fisher, and a Shepheards swayne + A liuely Countrey Lad: + Betwixt which three a question grew, + Who should the worthiest be, + Which violently they pursue, + Nor stickled would they be. + That it the Company doth please + This ciuill strife to stay, + Freely to heare what each of these + For his braue selfe could say: 40 + When first this Forrester (of all) + That _Silvius_ had to name, + To whom the Lot being cast doth fall, + Doth thus begin the Game. + + _Silvius._ For my profession then, and for the life I lead, + All others to excell, thus for my selfe I plead; + I am the Prince of sports, the Forrest is my Fee, + He's not vpon the Earth for pleasure liues like me; + The Morne no sooner puts her rosye Mantle on, + But from my quyet Lodge I instantly am gone, 50 + When the melodious Birds from euery Bush and Bryer, + Of the wilde spacious Wasts, make a continuall quire; + The motlied Meadowes then, new vernisht with the Sunne + Shute vp their spicy sweets vpon the winds that runne, + In easly ambling Gales, and softly seeme to pace, + That it the longer might their lushiousnesse imbrace: + I am clad in youthfull Greene, I other colour, scorne, + My silken Bauldrick beares my Beugle, or my Horne, + Which setting to my Lips, I winde so lowd and shrill, + As makes the Ecchoes showte from euery neighbouring Hill: 60 + My Doghooke at my Belt, to which my Lyam's tyde, + My Sheafe of Arrowes by, my Woodknife at my Syde, + My Crosse-bow in my Hand, my Gaffle or my Rack + To bend it when I please, or it I list to slack, + My Hound then in my Lyam, I by the Woodmans art + Forecast, where I may lodge the goodly Hie-palm'd Hart, + To viewe the grazing Heards, so sundry times I vse, + Where by the loftiest Head I know my Deare to chuse, + And to vnheard him then, I gallop o'r the ground + Vpon my wel-breath'd Nag, to cheere my earning Hound. 70 + Sometime I pitch my Toyles the Deare aliue to take, + Sometime I like the Cry, the deep-mouth'd Kennell make, + Then vnderneath my Horse, I staulke my game to strike, + And with a single Dog to hunt him hurt, I like. + The Siluians are to me true subiects, I their King, + The stately Hart, his Hind doth to my presence bring, + The Buck his loued Doe, the Roe his tripping Mate, + Before me to my Bower, whereas I sit in State. + The Dryads, Hamadryads, the Satyres and the Fawnes + Oft play at Hyde and Seeke before me on the Lawnes, 80 + The frisking Fayry oft when horned Cinthia shines + Before me as I walke dance wanton Matachynes, + The numerous feathered flocks that the wild Forrests haunt + Their Siluan songs to me, in cheerefull dittyes chaunte, + The Shades like ample Sheelds, defend me from the Sunne, + Through which me to refresh the gentle Riuelets runne, + No little bubling Brook from any Spring that falls + But on the Pebbles playes me pretty Madrigals. + I' th' morne I clime the Hills, where wholsome winds do blow, + At Noone-tyde to the Vales, and shady Groues below, 90 + T'wards Euening I againe the Chrystall Floods frequent, + In pleasure thus my life continually is spent. + As Princes and great Lords haue Pallaces, so I + Haue in the Forrests here, my Hall and Gallery + The tall and stately Woods, which vnderneath are Plaine, + The Groues my Gardens are, the Heath and Downes againe + My wide and spacious walkes, then say all what ye can, + The Forrester is still your only gallant man. + + He of his speech scarce made an end, + But him they load with prayse, 100 + The Nimphes most highly him commend, + And vow to giue him Bayes: + He's now cryde vp of euery one, + And who but onely he, + The Forrester's the man alone, + The worthyest of the three. + When some then th' other farre more stayd, + Wil'd them a while to pause, + For there was more yet to be sayd, + That might deserve applause, 110 + When _Halcius_ his turne next plyes, + And silence hauing wonne, + Roome for the fisher man he cryes, + And thus his Plea begunne. + + _Halcius._ No Forrester, it so must not be borne away, + But heare what for himselfe the Fisher first can say, + The Chrystall current Streames continually I keepe, + Where euery Pearle-pau'd Foard, and euery Blew-eyd deepe + With me familiar are; when in my Boate being set, + My Oare I take in hand, my Augle and my Net 120 + About me; like a Prince my selfe in state I steer, + Now vp, now downe the Streame, now am I here, now ther, + The Pilot and the Fraught my selfe; and at my ease + Can land me where I list, or in what place I please, + The Siluer-scaled Sholes, about me in the Streames, + As thick as ye discerne the Atoms in the Beames, + Neare to the shady Banck where slender Sallowes grow, + And Willows their shag'd tops downe t'wards the waters bow + I shove in with my Boat to sheeld me from the heat, + Where chusing from my Bag, some prou'd especiall bayt, 130 + The goodly well growne Trout I with my Angle strike, + And with my bearded Wyer I take the rauenous Pike, + Of whom when I haue hould, he seldome breakes away + Though at my Lynes full length, soe long I let him play + Till by my hand I finde he well-nere wearyed be, + When softly by degrees I drawe him vp to me. + The lusty Samon to, I oft with Angling take, + Which me aboue the rest most Lordly sport doth make, + Who feeling he is caught, such Frisks and bounds doth fetch, + And by his very strength my Line soe farre doth stretch, 140 + As draws my floating Corcke downe to the very ground, + And wresting at my Rod, doth make my Boat turne round. + I neuer idle am, some tyme I bayt my Weeles, + With which by night I take the dainty siluer Eeles, + And with my Draughtnet then, I sweepe the streaming Flood, + And to my Tramell next, and Cast-net from the Mud, + I beate the Scaly brood, noe hower I idely spend, + But wearied with my worke I bring the day to end: + The Naijdes and Nymphes that in the Riuers keepe, + Which take into their care, the store of euery deepe, 150 + Amongst the Flowery flags, the Bullrushes and Reed, + That of the Spawne haue charge (abundantly to breed) + Well mounted vpon Swans, their naked bodys lend + To my discerning eye, and on my Boate attend, + And dance vpon the Waues, before me (for my sake) + To th' Musick the soft wynd vpon the Reeds doth make + And for my pleasure more, the rougher Gods of Seas + From _Neptune's_ Court send in the blew Neriades, + Which from his bracky Realme vpon the Billowes ride + And beare the Riuers backe with euery streaming Tyde, 160 + Those Billowes gainst my Boate, borne with delightfull Gales, + Oft seeming as I rowe to tell me pretty tales, + Whilst Ropes of liquid Pearle still load my laboring Oares, + As streacht vpon the Streame they stryke me to the Shores: + The silent medowes seeme delighted with my Layes, + As sitting in my Boate I sing my Lasses praise, + Then let them that like, the Forrester vp cry, + Your noble Fisher is your only man say I. + + This speech of _Halcius_ turn'd the Tyde, + And brought it so about, 170 + That all vpon the Fisher cryde, + That he would beare it out; + Him for the speech he made, to clap + Who lent him not a hand, + And said t'would be the Waters hap, + Quite to put downe the Land. + This while _Melanthus_ silent sits, + (For so the Shepheard hight) + And hauing heard these dainty wits, + Each pleading for his right; 180 + To heare them honor'd in this wise, + His patience doth prouoke, + When for a Shepheard roome he cryes, + And for himselfe thus spoke. + + _Melanthus._ Well Fisher you haue done, and Forrester for you + Your Tale is neatly tould, s'are both's to giue you due, + And now my turne comes next, then heare a Shepherd speak: + My watchfulnesse and care giues day scarce leaue to break, + But to the Fields I haste, my folded flock to see, + Where when I finde, nor Woolfe, nor Fox, hath iniur'd me, 190 + I to my Bottle straight, and soundly baste my Throat, + Which done, some Country Song or Roundelay I roate + So merrily; that to the musick that I make, + I Force the Larke to sing ere she be well awake; + Then _Baull_ my cut-tayld Curre and I begin to play, + He o'r my Shephooke leapes, now th'one, now th'other way, + Then on his hinder feet he doth himselfe aduance, + I tune, and to my note, my liuely Dog doth dance, + Then whistle in my Fist, my fellow Swaynes to call, + Downe goe our Hooks and Scrips, and we to Nine-holes fall, 200 + At Dust-point, or at Quoyts, else are we at it hard, + All false and cheating Games, we Shepheards are debard; + Suruaying of my sheepe if Ewe or Wether looke + As though it were amisse, or with my Curre, or Crooke + I take it, and when once I finde what it doth ayle, + It hardly hath that hurt, but that my skill can heale; + And when my carefull eye, I cast vpon my sheepe + I sort them in my Pens, and sorted soe I keepe: + Those that are bigst of Boane, I still reserue for breed, + My Cullings I put off, or for the Chapman feed. 210 + When the Euening doth approach I to my Bagpipe take, + And to my Grazing flocks such Musick then I make, + That they forbeare to feed; then me a King you see, + I playing goe before, my Subiects followe me, + My Bell-weather most braue, before the rest doth stalke, + The Father of the flocke, and after him doth walke + My writhen-headed Ram, with Posyes crowned in pride + Fast to his crooked hornes with Rybands neatly ty'd + And at our Shepheards Board that's cut out of the ground, + My fellow Swaynes and I together at it round, 220 + With Greencheese, clouted Cream, with Flawns, and Custards, stord, + Whig, Sider, and with Whey, I domineer a Lord, + When shering time is come I to the Riuer driue, + My goodly well-fleec'd Flocks: (by pleasure thus I thriue) + Which being washt at will; vpon the shering day, + My wooll I foorth in Loaks, fit for the wynder lay, + Which vpon lusty heapes into my Coate I heaue, + That in the Handling feeles as soft as any Sleaue, + When euery Ewe two Lambes, that yeaned hath that yeare, + About her new shorne neck a Chaplet then doth weare; 230 + My Tarboxe, and my Scrip, my Bagpipe, at my back, + My Sheephooke in my hand, what can I say I lacke; + He that a Scepter swayd, a sheephooke in his hand, + Hath not disdaind to haue, for Shepheards then I stand; + Then Forester and you my Fisher cease your strife + I say your Shepheard leads your onely merry life, + + They had not cryd the Forester, + And Fisher vp before, + So much: but now the Nimphes preferre, + The Shephard ten tymes more, 240 + And all the Ging goes on his side, + Their Minion him they make, + To him themselues they all apply'd, + And all his partie take; + Till some in their discretion cast, + Since first the strife begunne, + In all that from them there had past + None absolutly wonne; + That equall honour they should share; + And their deserts to showe, 250 + For each a Garland they prepare, + Which they on them bestowe, + Of all the choisest flowers that weare, + Which purposly they gather, + With which they Crowne them, parting there, + As they came first together. + + +The seuenth Nimphall + +FLORIMEL, LELIPA, NAIJS, CODRVS a +Feriman. + + + _The Nimphes, the Queene of loue pursue, + Which oft doth hide her from their view: + But lastly from th' Elizian Nation, + She banisht is by Proclamation_. + + _Florimel._ Deare _Lelipa_, where hast thou bin so long, + Was't not enough for thee to doe me wrong; + To rob me of thy selfe, but with more spight + To take my _Naijs_ from me, my delight? + Yee lazie Girles, your heads where haue ye layd, + Whil'st _Venus_ here her anticke prankes hath playd? + + _Lelipa._ Nay _Florimel_, we should of you enquire, + The onely Mayden, whom we all admire + For Beauty, Wit, and Chastity, that you + Amongst the rest of all our Virgin crue, 10 + In quest of her, that you so slacke should be, + And leaue the charge to Naijs and to me. + + _Florimel._ Y'are much mistaken _Lelipa_, 'twas I, + Of all the Nimphes, that first did her descry, + At our great Hunting, when as in the Chase + Amongst the rest, me thought I saw one face + So exceeding faire, and curious, yet vnknowne + That I that face not possibly could owne. + And in the course, so Goddesse like a gate, + Each step so full of maiesty and state; 20 + That with my selfe, I thus resolu'd that she + Lesse then a Goddesse (surely) could not be: + Thus as _Idalia_, stedfastly I ey'd, + A little Nimphe that kept close by her side + I noted, as vnknowne as was the other, + Which _Cupid_ was disguis'd so by his mother. + The little purblinde Rogue, if you had seene, + You would haue thought he verily had beene + One of _Diana's_ Votaries so clad, + He euery thing so like a Huntresse had: 30 + And she had put false eyes into his head, + That very well he might vs all haue sped. + And still they kept together in the Reare, + But as the Boy should haue shot at the Deare, + He shot amongst the Nimphes, which when I saw, + Closer vp to them I began to draw; + And fell to hearken, when they naught suspecting, + Because I seem'd them vtterly neglecting, + I heard her say, my little _Cupid_ too't, + Now Boy or neuer, at the Beuie shoot, 40 + Haue at them _Venus_ quoth the Boy anon, + I'le pierce the proud'st, had she a heart of stone: + With that I cryde out, Treason, Treason, when + The Nimphes that were before, turning agen + To vnderstand the meaning of this cry, + They out of sight were vanish't presently. + Thus but for me, the Mother and the Sonne, + Here in Elizium, had vs all vndone. + + _Naijs._ Beleeue me, gentle Maide, 'twas very well, + But now heare me my beauteous _Florimel_, 50 + Great _Mars_ his Lemman being cryde out here, + She to _Felicia_ goes, still to be neare + Th' Elizian Nimphes, for at vs is her ayme, + The fond _Felicians_ are her common game. + I vpon pleasure idly wandring thither, + Something worth laughter from those fooles to gather, + Found her, who thus had lately beene surpriz'd, + Fearing the like, had her faire selfe disguis'd + Like an old Witch, and gaue out to haue skill + In telling Fortunes either good or ill; 60 + And that more nearly she with them might close, + She cut the Cornes, of dainty Ladies Toes: + She gaue them Phisicke, either to coole or mooue them, + And powders too to make their sweet Hearts loue them: + And her sonne _Cupid_, as her Zany went, + Carrying her boxes, whom she often sent + To know of her faire Patients how they slept. + By which meanes she, and the blinde Archer crept + Into their fauours, who would often Toy, + And tooke delight in sporting with the Boy; 70 + Which many times amongst his waggish tricks, + These wanton Wenches in the bosome prickes; + That they before which had some franticke fits, + Were by his Witchcraft quite out of their wits. + Watching this Wisard, my minde gaue me still + She some Impostor was, and that this skill + Was counterfeit, and had some other end. + For which discouery, as I did attend, + Her wrinckled vizard being very thin, + My piercing eye perceiu'd her cleerer skin 80 + Through the thicke Riuels perfectly to shine; + When I perceiu'd a beauty so diuine, + As that so clouded, I began to pry + A little nearer, when I chanc't to spye + That pretty Mole vpon her Cheeke, which when + I saw; suruaying euery part agen, + Vpon her left hand, I perceiu'd the skarre + Which she receiued in the Troian warre; + Which when I found, I could not chuse but smile. + She, who againe had noted me the while, 90 + And, by my carriage, found I had descry'd her, + Slipt out of sight, and presently doth hide her. + + _Lelipa._ Nay then my dainty Girles, I make no doubt + But I my selfe as strangely found her out + As either of you both; in Field and Towne, + When like a Pedlar she went vp and downe: + For she had got a pretty handsome Packe, + Which she had fardled neatly at her backe: + And opening it, she had the perfect cry, + Come my faire Girles, let's see, what will you buy. 100 + Here be fine night Maskes, plastred well within, + To supple wrinckles, and to smooth the skin: + Heer's Christall, Corall, Bugle, Iet, in Beads, + Cornelian Bracelets for my dainty Maids: + Then Periwigs and Searcloth-Gloues doth show, + To make their hands as white as Swan or Snow: + Then takes she forth a curious gilded boxe, + Which was not opened but by double locks; + Takes them aside, and doth a Paper spred, + In which was painting both for white and red: 110 + And next a piece of Silke, wherein there lyes + For the decay'd, false Breasts, false Teeth, false Eyes + And all the while shee's opening of her Packe, + _Cupid_ with's wings bound close downe to his backe: + Playing the Tumbler on a Table gets, + And shewes the Ladies many pretty feats. + I seeing behinde him that he had such things, + For well I knew no boy but he had wings, + I view'd his Mothers beauty, which to me + Lesse then a Goddesse said, she could not be: 120 + With that quoth I to her, this other day, + As you doe now, so one that came this way, + Shew'd me a neate piece, with the needle wrought, + How _Mars_ and _Venus_ were together caught + By polt-foot _Vulcan_ in an Iron net; + It grieu'd me after that I chanc't to let, + It to goe from me: whereat waxing red, + Into her Hamper she hung downe her head, + As she had stoup't some noueltie to seeke, + But 'twas indeed to hide her blushing Cheeke: 130 + When she her Trinkets trusseth vp anon, + E'r we were 'ware, and instantly was gone. + + _Florimel._ But hearke you Nimphes, amongst our idle prate, + Tis current newes through the Elizian State, + That _Venus_ and her Sonne were lately seene + Here in _Elizium_, whence they oft haue beene + Banisht by our Edict, and yet still merry, + Were here in publique row'd o'r at the Ferry, + Where as 'tis said, the Ferryman and she + Had much discourse, she was so full of glee, 140 + _Codrus_ much wondring at the blind Boyes Bow. + + _Naijs._ And what it was, that easly you may know, + _Codrus_ himselfe comes rowing here at hand. + + _Lelipa._ _Codrus_ Come hither, let your Whirry stand, + I hope vpon you, ye will take no state + Because two Gods haue grac't your Boat of late; + Good Ferry-man I pray thee let vs heare + What talke ye had, aboard thee whilst they were. + + _Codrus._ Why thus faire Nimphes. + As I a Fare had lately past, 150 + And thought that side to ply, + I heard one as it were in haste; + A Boate, a Boate, to cry, + Which as I was aboute to bring, + And came to view my Fraught, + Thought I; what more then heauenly thing, + Hath fortune hither brought. + She seeing mine eyes still on her were, + Soone, smilingly, quoth she; + Sirra, looke to your Roother there, 160 + Why lookst thou thus at me? + And nimbly stept into my Boat, + With her a little Lad + Naked and blind, yet did I note, + That Bow and Shafts he had, + And two Wings to his Shoulders fixt, + Which stood like little Sayles, + With farre more various colours mixt, + Then be your Peacocks Tayles; + I seeing this little dapper Elfe, 170 + Such Armes as these to beare, + Quoth I thus softly to my selfe, + What strange thing haue we here, + I neuer saw the like thought I: + Tis more then strange to me, + To haue a child haue wings to fly, + And yet want eyes to see; + Sure this is some deuised toy, + Or it transform'd hath bin, + For such a thing, halfe Bird, halfe Boy, 180 + I thinke was neuer seene; + And in my Boat I turnd about, + And wistly viewd the Lad, + And cleerely saw his eyes were out, + Though Bow and Shafts he had. + As wistly she did me behold, + How likst thou him, quoth she, + Why well, quoth I; and better should, + Had he but eyes to see. + How sayst thou honest friend, quoth she, 190 + Wilt thou a Prentice take, + I thinke in time, though blind he be, + A Ferry-man hee'll make; + To guide my passage Boat quoth I, + His fine hands were not made, + He hath beene bred too wantonly + To vndertake my trade; + Why helpe him to a Master then, + Quoth she, such Youths be scant, + It cannot be but there be men 200 + That such a Boy do want. + Quoth I, when you your best haue done, + No better way you'll finde, + Then to a Harper binde your Sonne, + Since most of them are blind. + The louely Mother and the Boy, + Laught heartily thereat, + As at some nimble iest or toy, + To heare my homely Chat. + Quoth I, I pray you let me know, 210 + Came he thus first to light, + Or by some sicknesse, hurt, or blow, + Depryued of his sight; + Nay sure, quoth she, he thus was borne, + Tis strange borne blind, quoth I, + I feare you put this as a scorne + On my simplicity; + Quoth she, thus blind I did him beare, + Quoth I, if't be no lye, + Then he 's the first blind man Ile sweare, 220 + Ere practisd Archery, + A man, quoth she, nay there you misse, + He 's still a Boy as now, + Nor to be elder then he is, + The Gods will him alow; + To be no elder then he is, + Then sure he is some sprite + I straight replide, againe at this, + The Goddesse laught out right; + It is a mystery to me, 230 + An Archer and yet blinde; + Quoth I againe, how can it be, + That he his marke should finde; + The Gods, quoth she, whose will it was + That he should want his sight, + That he in something should surpasse, + To recompence their spight, + Gaue him this gift, though at his Game + He still shot in the darke, + That he should haue so certaine ayme, 240 + As not to misse his marke. + By this time we were come a shore, + When me my Fare she payd, + But not a word she vttered more, + Nor had I her bewrayd, + Of _Venus_ nor of _Cupid_ I + Before did neuer heare, + But that Fisher comming by + Then, told me who they were. + + _Florimel._ Well: against them then proceed 250 + As before we haue decreed, + That the Goddesse and her Child, + Be for euer hence exild, + Which _Lelipa_ you shall proclaime + In our wise _Apollo's_ name. + + _Lelipa._ To all th' Elizian Nimphish Nation, + Thus we make our Proclamation, + Against _Venus_ and her Sonne + For the mischeefe they haue done, + After the next last of May, 260 + The fixt and peremtory day, + If she or _Cupid_ shall be found + Vpon our Elizian ground, + Our Edict, meere Rogues shall make them, + And as such, who ere shall take them, + Them shall into prison put, + _Cupids_ wings shall then be cut, + His Bow broken, and his Arrowes + Giuen to Boyes to shoot at Sparrowes, + And this Vagabund be sent, 270 + Hauing had due punishment + To mount _Cytheron_, which first fed him: + Where his wanton Mother bred him, + And there out of her protection + Dayly to receiue correction; + Then her Pasport shall be made, + And to _Cyprus_ Isle conuayd, + And at _Paphos_ in her Shryne, + Where she hath been held diuine, + For her offences found contrite, 280 + There to liue an Anchorite. + + +The eight Nimphall + +MERTILLA, CLAIA, CLORIS. + + _A Nimph is marryed to a Fay, + Great preparations for the Day, + All Rites of Nuptials they recite you + To the Brydall and inuite you._ + + _Mertilla._ But will our _Tita_ wed this Fay? + + _Claia._ Yea, and to morrow is the day. + + _Mertilla._ But why should she bestow her selfe + Vpon this dwarfish Fayry Elfe? + + _Claia._ Why by her smalnesse you may finde, + That she is of the Fayry kinde, + And therefore apt to chuse her make + Whence she did her begining take: + Besides he 's deft and wondrous Ayrye, + And of the noblest of the Fayry, 10 + Chiefe of the Crickets of much fame, + In Fayry a most ancient name. + But to be briefe, 'tis cleerely done, + The pretty wench is woo'd and wonne. + + _Cloris._ If this be so, let vs prouide + The Ornaments to fit our Bryde. + For they knowing she doth come + From vs in _Elizium_, + Queene _Mab_ will looke she should be drest + In those attyres we thinke our best, 20 + Therefore some curious things lets giue her, + E'r to her Spouse we her deliuer. + + _Mertilla._ Ile haue a Iewell for her eare, + (Which for my sake Ile haue her weare) + 'T shall be a Dewdrop, and therein + Of Cupids I will haue a twinne, + Which strugling, with their wings shall break + The Bubble, out of which shall leak, + So sweet a liquor as shall moue + Each thing that smels, to be in loue. 30 + + _Claia._ Beleeue me Gerle, this will be fine, + And to this Pendant, then take mine; + A Cup in fashion of a Fly, + Of the Linxes piercing eye, + Wherein there sticks a Sunny Ray + Shot in through the cleerest day, + Whose brightnesse _Venus_ selfe did moue, + Therein to put her drinke of Loue, + Which for more strength she did distill, + The Limbeck was a _Phœnix_ quill, 40 + At this Cups delicious brinke, + A Fly approching but to drinke, + Like Amber or some precious Gumme + It transparant doth become. + + _Cloris._ For Iewels for her eares she's sped, + But for a dressing for her head + I thinke for her I haue a Tyer, + That all Fayryes shall admyre, + The yellowes in the full-blowne Rose, + Which in the top it doth inclose 50 + Like drops of gold Oare shall be hung; + Vpon her Tresses, and among + Those scattered seeds (the eye to please) + The wings of the Cantharides: + With some o' th' Raine-bow that doth raile + Those Moons in, in the Peacocks taile: + Whose dainty colours being mixt + With th' other beauties, and so fixt, + Her louely Tresses shall appeare, + As though vpon a flame they were. 60 + And to be sure she shall be gay, + We'll take those feathers from the Iay; + About her eyes in Circlets set, + To be our _Tita's_ Coronet. + + _Mertilla._ Then dainty Girles I make no doubt, + But we shall neatly send her out: + But let's amongst our selues agree, + Of what her wedding Gowne shall be. + + _Claia._ Of Pansie, Pincke, and Primrose leaues, + Most curiously laid on in Threaues: 70 + And all embroydery to supply, + Powthred with flowers of Rosemary: + A trayle about the skirt shall runne, + The Silkewormes finest, newly spunne; + And euery Seame the Nimphs shall sew + With th' smallest of the Spinners Clue: + And hauing done their worke, againe + These to the Church shall beare her Traine: + Which for our _Tita_ we will make + Of the cast slough of a Snake, 80 + Which quiuering as the winde doth blow, + The Sunne shall it like Tinsell shew. + + _Cloris._ And being led to meet her mate, + To make sure that she want no state, + Moones from the Peacockes tayle wee'll shred, + With feathers from the Pheasants head: + Mix'd with the plume of (so high price,) + The precious bird of Paradice. + Which to make vp, our Nimphes shall ply + Into a curious Canopy. 90 + Borne o're her head (by our enquiry) + By Elfes, the fittest of the Faery. + + _Mertilla._ But all this while we haue forgot + Her Buskins, neighbours, haue we not? + + _Claia._ We had, for those I'le fit her now, + They shall be of the Lady-Cow: + The dainty shell vpon her backe + Of Crimson strew'd with spots of blacke; + Which as she holds a stately pace, + Her Leg will wonderfully grace. 100 + + _Cloris._ But then for musicke of the best, + This must be thought on for the Feast. + + _Mertilla._ The Nightingale of birds most choyce, + To doe her best shall straine her voyce; + And to this bird to make a Set, + The Mauis, Merle, and Robinet; + The Larke, the Lennet, and the Thrush, + That make a Quier of euery Bush. + But for still musicke, we will keepe + The Wren, and Titmouse, which to sleepe 110 + Shall sing the Bride, when shee's alone + The rest into their chambers gone. + And like those vpon Ropes that walke + On Gossimer, from staulke to staulke, + The tripping Fayry tricks shall play + The euening of the wedding day. + + _Claia._ But for the Bride-bed, what were fit, + That hath not beene talk'd of yet. + + _Cloris._ Of leaues of Roses white and red, + Shall be the Couering of her bed: 120 + The Curtaines, Valence, Tester, all, + Shall be the flower Imperiall, + And for the Fringe, it all along + With azure Harebels shall be hung: + Of Lillies shall the Pillowes be, + With downe stuft of the Butterflee. + + _Mertilla._ Thus farre we handsomely haue gone, + Now for our Prothalamion + Or Marriage song of all the rest, + A thing that much must grace our feast. 130 + Let vs practise then to sing it, + Ere we before th' assembly bring it: + We in Dialogues must doe it, + The my dainty Girles set to it. + + Claia. _This day must _Tita_ marryed be, + Come Nimphs this nuptiall let vs see._ + + Mertilla. _But is it certaine that ye say, + Will she wed the Noble Faye?_ + + Cloris. _Sprinckle the dainty flowers with dewes, + Such as the Gods at Banquets vse: 140 + Let Hearbs and Weeds turne all to Roses, + And make proud the posts with posies: + Shute your sweets into the ayre, + Charge the morning to be fayre._ + + Claia. } _For our _Tita_ is this day, + Mertilla. } To be married to a Faye._ + + Claia. _By whom then shall our Bride be led + To the Temple to be wed._ + + Mertilla. _Onely by your selfe and I, + Who that roomth should else supply?_ 150 + + Cloris. _Come bright Girles, come altogether, + And bring all your offrings hither, + Ye most braue and Buxome Beuye, + All your goodly graces Leuye, + Come in Maiestie and state + Our Brydall here to celebrate._ + + Mertilla. } _For our _Tita_ is this day, + Claia. } Married to a noble Faye._ + + Claia. _Whose lot wilt be the way to strow + On which to Church our Bride must goe?_ 160 + + Mertilla. _That I think as fit'st of all, + To liuely _Lelipa_ will fall._ + + Cloris. _Summon all the sweets that are, + To this nuptiall to repayre; + Till with their throngs themselues they smother, + Strongly styfling one another; + And at last they all consume, + And vanish in one rich perfume._ + + Mertilla. } _For our _Tita_ is this day, + Claia. } Married to a noble Faye._ 170 + + Mertilla. _By whom must _Tita_ married be, + 'Tis fit we all to that should see?_ + + Claia. _The Priest he purposely doth come, + Th' Arch Flamyne of Elizium._ + + Cloris. _With Tapers let the Temples shine, + Sing to Himen, Hymnes diuine: + Load the Altars till there rise + Clouds from the burnt sacrifice; + With your Sensors fling aloofe + Their smels, till they ascend the Roofe._ 180 + + Mertilla. } _For our _Tita_ is this day, + Claia. } Married to a noble Fay._ + + Mertilla. _But comming backe when she is wed, + Who breakes the Cake aboue her head._ + + Claia. _That shall _Mertilla_, for shee's tallest, + And our _Tita_ is the smallest._ + + Cloris. _Violins, strike vp aloud, + Ply the Gitterne, scowre the Crowd, + Let the nimble hand belabour + The whistling Pipe, and drumbling Taber: 190 + To the full the Bagpipe racke, + Till the swelling leather cracke._ + + Mertilla. } _For our _Tita_ is this day, + Claia. } Married to a noble Fay._ + + Claia. _But when to dyne she takes her seate + What shall be our _Tita's_ meate?_ + + Mertilla. _The Gods this Feast, as to begin, + Haue sent of their Ambrosia in._ + + Cloris. _Then serue we vp the strawes rich berry, + The Respas, and Elizian Cherry: 200 + The virgin honey from the flowers + In Hibla, wrought in _Flora's_ bowers: + Full Bowles of Nectar, and no Girle + Carouse but in dissolued Pearle._ + + Mertilla. } _For our _Tita_ is this day, + Claia. } Married to a noble Fay._ + + Claia. _But when night comes, and she must goe + To Bed, deare Nimphes what must we doe?_ + + Mertilla. _In the Posset must be brought, + And Poynts be from the Bridegroome caught._ 210 + + Cloris. _In Maskes, in Dances, and delight, + And reare Banquets spend the night: + Then about the Roome we ramble, + Scatter Nuts, and for them scramble: + Ouer Stooles, and Tables tumble, + Neuer thinke of noyse nor rumble._ + + Mertilla. } _For our _Tita_ is this day, + Claia. } Married to a noble Fay._ + + +The ninth Nimphall + +MVSES and NIMPHS. + + _The Muses spend their lofty layes, + Vpon _Apollo_ and his prayse; + The Nimphs with Gems his Alter build, + This Nimphall is with _Phœbus_ fild._ + + A Temple of exceeding state, + The Nimphes and Muses rearing, + Which they to _Phœbus_ dedicate, + Elizium euer cheering: + These Muses, and those Nimphes contend + This Phane to _Phœbus_ offring, + Which side the other should transcend, + These praise, those prizes proffering, + And at this long appointed day, + Each one their largesse bringing, 10 + Those nine faire Sisters led the way + Thus to _Apollo_ singing. + + The Muses. _Thou youthfull God that guid'st the howres, + The Muses thus implore thee, + By all those Names, due to thy powers, + By which we still adore thee._ + Sol_, _Tytan_, _Delius_, _Cynthius_, styles + Much reuerence that have wonne thee, + Deriu'd from Mountaines as from Iles + Where worship first was done thee. 20 + Rich _Delos_ brought thee forth diuine, + Thy Mother thither driven, + At _Delphos_ thy most sacred shrine, + Thy Oracles were giuen. + In thy swift course from East to West, + They minutes misse to finde thee, + That bear'st the morning on thy breast, + And leau'st the night behinde thee. + Vp to Olimpus top so steepe, + Thy startling Coursers currying; 30 + Thence downe to Neptunes vasty deepe, + Thy flaming Charriot hurrying._ + Eos_, _Ethon_, _Phlegon_, _Pirois_, proud, +The horses Their lightning Maynes aduancing: +drawing the Breathing forth fire on euery cloud +Chariot of Vpon their Iourney prancing. +the Sunne. Whose sparkling hoofes, with gold for speed + Are shod, to scape all dangers, + Where they upon Ambrosia feed, + In their celestiall Mangers. 40 +The Bright _Colatina_, that of hils +mountaines Is Goddesse, and hath keeping +first Her Nimphes, the cleere _Oreades_ wils +saluting the T'attend thee from thy sleeping. +Sunne at his Great _*Demogorgon_ feeles thy might, +rising. His Mynes about him heating: +* Supposed Who through his bosome dart'st thy light, +the God of Within the Center sweating. +earth. If thou but touch thy golden Lyre, + Thou _Minos_ mou'st to heare thee: 50 +One of the The Rockes feele in themselues a fire, +Iudges of And rise vp to come neere thee. +hell. 'Tis thou that Physicke didst deuise + Hearbs by their natures calling: + Of which some opening at thy Rise, + And closing at thy falling. + Fayre _Hyacinth_ thy most lou'd Lad, + That with the sledge thou sluest; + Hath in a flower the life he had, + Whose root thou still renewest, 60 + Thy _Daphne_ thy beloued Tree, + That scornes thy Fathers Thunder, + And thy deare _Clitia_ yet we see, +A Nimph lou'd Not time from thee can sunder; +of _Apollo_, From thy bright Bow that Arrow flew +and by him (Snatcht from thy golden Quiver) +changed into Which that fell Serpent _Python_ slew, +a flower. Renowning thee for euer. + The _Actian_ and the _Pythian_ Games +Playes or Deuised were to praise thee, 70 +Games in With all th' _Apolinary_ names +honor of That th' Ancients thought could raise thee. +_Apollo_. A Shryne vpon this Mountaine hie, + To thee we'll haue erected, + Which thou the God of Poesie + Must care to haue protected: + With thy loud _Cinthus_ that shall share, + With all his shady Bowers, + Nor _Licia's Cragus_ shall compare + With this, for thee, of ours._ 80 + + Thus hauing sung, the Nimphish Crue + Thrust in amongst them thronging, + Desiring they might haue the due + That was to them belonging. + Quoth they, ye Muses as diuine, + Are in his glories graced, + But it is we must build the Shryne + Wherein they must be placed; + Which of those precious Gemmes we'll make + That Nature can affoord vs, 90 + Which from that plenty we will take, + Wherewith we here have stor'd vs: + O glorious _Phœbus_ most diuine, + Thine Altars then we hallow. + And with those stones we build a Shryne + To thee our wise _Apollo_. + + The Nimphes. _No Gem, from Rocke, Seas, running streames, + (Their numbers let vs muster) + But hath from thy most powerfull beames + The Vertue and the Lustre; 100 + The Diamond, the King of Gemmes, + The first is to be placed, + That glory is of Diadems, + Them gracing, by them graced: + In whom thy power the most is seene, + The raging fire refelling: + The Emerauld then, most deepely greene, + For beauty most excelling, + Resisting poyson often prou'd + By those about that beare it. 110 + The cheerfull Ruby then, much lou'd, + That doth reuiue the spirit, + Whose kinde to large extensure growne + The colour so enflamed, + Is that admired mighty stone + The Carbunckle that's named, + Which from it such a flaming light + And radiency eiecteth, + That in the very dark'st of night + The eye to it directeth. 120 + The yellow Iacynth, strengthening Sense, + Of which who hath the keeping, + No Thunder hurts nor Pestilence, + And much prouoketh sleeping: + The Chrisolite, that doth resist + Thirst, proued, neuer failing, + The purple colored Amatist, + 'Gainst strength of wine prevailing; + The verdant gay greene Smaragdus, + Most soueraine ouer passion: 130 + The Sardonix approu'd by vs + To master Incantation. + Then that celestiall colored stone + The Saphyre, heauenly wholly, + Which worne, there wearinesse is none, + And cureth melancholly: + The Lazulus, whose pleasant blew + With golden vaines is graced; + The Iaspis, of so various hew, + Amongst our other placed; 140 + The Onix from the Ancients brought, + Of wondrous Estimation, + Shall in amongst the rest be wrought + Our sacred Shryne to fashion; + The Topas, we'll stick here and there, + And sea-greene colored Berill, + And Turkesse, which who haps to beare + Is often kept from perill, + To Selenite, of _Cynthia's_ light, + So nam'd, with her still ranging, 150 + Which as she wanes or waxeth bright + Its colours so are changing. + With Opalls, more then any one, + We'll deck thine Altar fuller, + For that of euery precious stone, + It doth retaine some colour; + With bunches of Pearle Paragon + Thine Altars vnderpropping, + Whose base is the Cornelian, + Strong bleeding often stopping: 160 + With th' Agot, very oft that is + Cut strangely in the Quarry, + As Nature ment to show in this, + How she her selfe can varry: + With worlds of Gems from Mines and Seas + Elizium well might store vs: + But we content our selues with these + That readiest lye before vs: + And thus O _Phœbus_ most diuine + Thine Altars still we hallow, 170 + And to thy Godhead reare this Shryne + Our onely wise _Apollo_._ + + +The tenth Nimphall + +NAIIS, CLAIA, CORBILVS, SATYRE. + + _A Satyre on Elizium lights, + Whose vgly shape the Nimphes affrights, + Yet when they heare his iust complaint, + They make him an Elizian Saint._ + + _Corbilus._ + + What; breathles Nimphs? bright Virgins let me know + What suddaine cause constraines ye to this haste? + What haue ye seene that should affright ye so? + What might it be from which ye flye so fast? + I see your faces full of pallid feare, + As though some perill followed on your flight; + Take breath a while, and quickly let me heare + Into what danger ye haue lately light. + + _Naijs._ Neuer were poore distressed Gerles so glad, + As when kinde, loued _Corbilus_ we saw, 10 + When our much haste vs so much weakned had, + That scarcely we our wearied breathes could draw, + In this next Groue vnder an aged Tree, + So fell a monster lying there we found, + As till this day, our eyes did neuer see, + Nor euer came on the Elizian ground. + Halfe man, halfe Goate, he seem'd to vs in show, + His vpper parts our humane shape doth beare, + But he's a very perfect Goat below, + His crooked Cambrils arm'd with hoofe and hayre. 20 + + _Claia._ Through his leane Chops a chattering he doth make + Which stirres his staring beastly driueld Beard, + And his sharpe hornes he seem'd at vs to shake, + Canst thou then blame vs though we are afeard. + + _Corbilus._ Surely it seemes some Satyre this should be, + Come and goe back and guide me to the place, + Be not affraid, ye are safe enough with me, + Silly and harmlesse be their Siluan Race. + + _Claia._ How _Corbilus_; a Satyre doe you say? + How should he ouer high _Parnassus_ hit? 30 + Since to these fields there's none can finde the way, + But onely those the Muses will permit. + + _Corbilus._ 'Tis true; but oft, the sacred Sisters grace + The silly Satyre, by whose plainnesse, they + Are taught the worlds enormities to trace, + By beastly mens abhominable way; + Besyde he may be banisht his owne home + By this base time, or be so much distrest, + That he the craggy by-clift Hill hath clome + To finde out these more pleasant Fields of rest. 40 + + _Naijs._ Yonder he sits, and seemes himselfe to bow + At our approach, what doth our presence awe him? + Me thinks he seemes not halfe so vgly now, + As at the first, when I and _Claia_ saw him. + + _Corbilus._ 'Tis an old Satyre, Nimph, I now discerne, + Sadly he sits, as he were sick or lame, + His lookes would say, that we may easly learne + How, and from whence, he to _Elizium_ came. + Satyre, these Fields, how cam'st thou first to finde? + What Fate first show'd thee this most happy store? 50 + When neuer any of thy Siluan kinde + Set foot on the Elizian earth before? + + _Satyre._ O neuer aske, how I came to this place, + What cannot strong necessity finde out? + Rather bemoane my miserable case, + Constrain'd to wander this wide world about: + With wild _Silvanus_ and his woody crue, + In Forrests I, at liberty and free, + Liu'd in such pleasure as the world ne'r knew, + Nor any rightly can conceiue but we. 60 + This iocond life we many a day enioy'd, + Till this last age, those beastly men forth brought, + That all those great and goodly Woods destroy'd. + Whose growth their Grandsyres, with such sufferance sought, + That faire _Felicia_ which was but of late, + Earth's Paradice, that neuer had her Peere, + Stands now in that most lamentable state, + That not a Siluan will inhabit there; + Where in the soft and most delicious shade, + In heat of Summer we were wont to play, 70 + When the long day too short for vs we made, + The slyding houres so slyly stole away; + By _Cynthia's_ light, and on the pleasant Lawne, + The wanton Fayry we were wont to chase, + Which to the nimble clouen-footed Fawne, + Vpon the plaine durst boldly bid the base. + The sportiue Nimphes, with shouts and laughter shooke + The Hils and Valleyes in their wanton play, + Waking the Ecchoes, their last words that tooke, + Till at the last, they lowder were then they. 80 + The lofty hie Wood, and the lower spring, + Sheltring the Deare, in many a suddaine shower; + Where Quires of Birds, oft wonted were to sing, + The flaming Furnace wholly doth deuoure; + Once faire _Felicia_, but now quite defac'd, + Those Braueries gone wherein she did abound, + With dainty Groues, when she was highly grac'd + With goodly Oake, Ashe, Elme, and Beeches croun'd: + But that from heauen their iudgement blinded is, + In humane Reason it could neuer be, 90 + But that they might haue cleerly seene by this, + Those plagues their next posterity shall see. + The little Infant on the mothers Lap + For want of fire shall be so sore distrest, + That whilst it drawes the lanke and empty Pap, + The tender lips shall freese vnto the breast; + The quaking Cattle which their Warmstall want, + And with bleake winters Northerne winde opprest, + Their Browse and Stouer waxing thin and scant, + The hungry Groues shall with their Caryon feast. 100 + Men wanting Timber wherewith they should build, + And not a Forrest in _Felicia_ found, + Shall be enforc'd vpon the open Field, + To dig them caues for houses in the ground: + The Land thus rob'd, of all her rich Attyre, + Naked and bare her selfe to heauen doth show, + Begging from thence that _Iove_ would dart his fire + Vpon those wretches that disrob'd her so; + This beastly Brood by no meanes may abide + The name of their braue Ancestors to heare, 110 + By whom their sordid slauery is descry'd, + So vnlike them as though not theirs they were, + Nor yet they sense, nor vnderstanding haue, + Of those braue Muses that their Country song, + But with false Lips ignobly doe depraue + The right and honour that to them belong; + This cruell kinde thus Viper-like deuoure + That fruitfull soyle which them too fully fed; + The earth doth curse the Age, and euery houre + Againe, that it these viprous monsters bred. 120 + I seeing the plagues that shortly are to come + Vpon this people cleerely them forsooke: + And thus am light into Elizium, + To whose straite search I wholly me betooke. + + _Naijs._ Poore silly creature, come along with vs, + Thou shalt be free of the Elizian fields: + Be not dismaid, nor inly grieued thus, + This place content in all abundance yeelds. + We to the cheerefull presence will thee bring, + Of _Ioues_ deare Daughters, where in shades they sit, 130 + Where thou shalt heare those sacred Sisters sing, + Most heauenly Hymnes, the strength and life of wit: + + _Claia._ Where to the Delphian God vpon their Lyres + His Priests seeme rauisht in his height of praise: + Whilst he is crowning his harmonious Quiers + With circling Garlands of immortall Bayes. + + _Corbilus._ Here liue in blisse, till thou shalt see those slaues, + Who thus set vertue and desert at nought: + Some sacrific'd vpon their Grandsires graues, + And some like beasts in markets sold and bought. 140 + Of fooles and madmen leaue thou then the care, + That haue no vnderstanding of their state: + For whom high heauen doth so iust plagues prepare, + That they to pitty shall conuert thy hate. + And to Elizium be thou welcome then, + Vntill those base Felicians thou shalt heare, + By that vile nation captiued againe, + That many a glorious age their captiues were. + + + + +SONGS FROM THE 'SHEPHERD'S GARLAND' + +[From the Edition of 1593] + + + The Gods delight, the heauens hie spectacle, + Earths greatest glory, worlds rarest miracle. + + Fortunes fay'rst mistresse, vertues surest guide, + Loues Gouernesse, and natures chiefest pride. + + Delights owne darling, honours cheefe defence, + Chastities choyce, and wisdomes quintessence. + + Conceipts sole Riches, thoughts only treasure, + Desires true hope, Ioyes sweetest pleasure. + + Mercies due merite, valeurs iust reward, + Times fayrest fruite, fames strongest guarde. 10 + + Yea she alone, next that eternall he, + The expresse Image of eternitie. + + +_From Eclogue ij_ + + Tell me fayre flocke, (if so you can conceaue) + The sodaine cause of my night-sunnes eclipse, + If this be wrought me my light to bereaue, + By Magick spels, from some inchanting lips + Or vgly _Saturne_ from his combust sent, + This fatall presage of deaths dreryment. + + Oh cleerest day-starre, honored of mine eyes, + Yet sdaynst mine eyes should gaze vpon thy light, + Bright morning sunne, who with thy sweet arise, + Expell'st the clouds of my harts lowring night, 10 + Goddes reiecting sweetest sacrifice, + Of mine eyes teares ay offered to thine eyes. + + May purest heauens scorne my soules pure desires? + Or holy shrines hate Pilgrims orizons? + May sacred temples gaynsay sacred prayers? + Or Saints refuse the poores deuotions? + Then Orphane thoughts with sorrow be you waind, + When loues Religion shalbe thus prophayn'd. + + Yet needes the earth must droope with visage sad, + When siluer dewes been turn'd to bitter stormes, 20 + The Cheerful _Welkin_, once in sables clad, + Her frownes foretell poore humaine creatures harmes. + And yet for all to make amends for this, + The clouds sheed teares, and weepen at my misse. + + +_From Eclogue iij_ + + O thou fayre siluer Thames: O cleerest chrystall flood, + _Beta_ alone the Phenix is, of all thy watery brood, + The Queene of Virgins onely she: + And thou the Queene of floods shalt be: + Let all thy Nymphes be ioyfull then to see this happy day, + Thy _Beta_ now alone shalbe the subiect of my laye. + + With daintie and delightsome straines of sweetest virelayes: + Come louely shepheards sit we down and chant our _Betas_ prayse: + And let vs sing so rare a verse, + Our _Betas_ prayses to rehearse, 10 + That little Birds shall silent be, to heare poore shepheards sing, + And riuers backward bend their course, and flow vnto the spring. + + Range all thy swannes faire Thames together on a rancke, + And place them duely one by one, vpon thy stately banck, + Then set together all agood, + Recording to the siluer flood, + And craue the tunefull Nightingale to helpe you with her lay, + The Osel and the Throstlecocke, chiefe musicke of our maye. + + O! see what troups of Nimphs been sporting on the strands, + And they been blessed Nimphs of peace, with Oliues in their hands. 20 + How meryly the Muses sing, + That all the flowry Medowes ring, + And _Beta_ sits vpon the banck, in purple and in pall, + And she the Queene of Muses is, and weares the Corinall. + + Trim vp her Golden tresses with _Apollos_ sacred tree, + O happy sight vnto all those that loue and honor thee, + The Blessed Angels haue prepar'd, + A glorious Crowne for thy reward, + Not such a golden Crowne as haughty _Cæsar_ weares, + But such a glittering starry Crowne as _Ariadne_ beares. 30 + + Make her a goodly Chapilet of azur'd Colombine, + And wreath about her Coronet with sweetest Eglentine: + Bedeck our _Beta_ all with Lillies, + And the dayntie Daffadillies, + With Roses damask, white, and red, and fairest flower delice, + With Cowslips of Jerusalem, and cloues of Paradice. + + O thou fayre torch of heauen, the days most dearest light, + And thou bright shyning _Cinthya_, the glory of the night: + You starres the eyes of heauen, + And thou the glyding leuen, 40 + And thou O gorgeous _Iris_ with all strange Colours dyd, + When she streams foorth her rayes, then dasht is all your pride. + + See how the day stands still, admiring of her face, + And time loe stretcheth foorth her armes, thy _Beta_ to imbrace, + The Syrens sing sweete layes, + The Trytons sound her prayse, + Goe passe on Thames and hie thee fast vnto the Ocean sea, + And let thy billowes there proclaime thy _Betas_ holy-day. + + And water thou the blessed roote of that greene Oliue tree, + With whose sweete shadow, al thy bancks with peace preserued be, 50 + Lawrell for Poets and Conquerours, + And mirtle for Loues Paramours: + That fame may be thy fruit, the boughes preseru'd by peace, + And let the mournful Cipres die, now stormes and tempest cease. + + Wee'l straw the shore with pearle where _Beta_ walks alone, + And we wil paue her princely Bower with richest Indian stone, + Perfume the ayre and make it sweete, + For such a Goddesse it is meete, + For if her eyes for purity contend with Titans light, + No maruaile then although they so doe dazell humaine sight. 60 + + Sound out your trumpets then, from _London's_ stately towres, + To beate the stormie windes a back and calme the raging showres, + Set too the Cornet and the flute, + The Orpharyon and the Lute, + And tune the Taber and the Pipe, to the sweet violons, + And moue the thunder in the ayre, with lowdest Clarions. + + _Beta_ long may thine Altars smoke, with yeerely sacrifice, + And long thy sacred Temples may their Saboths solemnize, + Thy shepheards watch by day and night, + Thy Mayds attend the holy light, 70 + And thy large empyre stretch her armes from east vnto the west, + And thou vnder thy feet mayst tread, that foule seuen-headed beast. + + +_From Eclogue iv_ + + _Melpomine_ put on thy mourning Gaberdine, + And set thy song vnto the dolefull Base, + And with thy sable vayle shadow thy face, + with weeping verse, + attend his hearse, + Whose blessed soule the heauens doe now enshrine. + + Come Nymphs and with your Rebecks ring his knell, + Warble forth your wamenting harmony, + And at his drery fatall obsequie, + with Cypres bowes, 10 + maske your fayre Browes, + And beat your breasts to chyme his burying peale. + + Thy birth-day was to all our ioye, the euen, + And on thy death this dolefull song we sing, + Sweet Child of _Pan_, and the _Castalian_ spring, + vnto our endless mone, + from vs why art thou gone, + To fill vp that sweete Angels quier in heauen. + + O whylome thou thy lasses dearest loue, + When with greene Lawrell she hath crowned thee, 20 + Immortal mirror of all Poesie: + the Muses treasure, + the Graces pleasure, + Reigning with Angels now in heauen aboue. + + Our mirth is now depriu'd of all her glory, + Our Taburins in dolefull dumps are drownd. + Our viols want their sweet and pleasing sound, + our melodie is mar'd + and we of ioyes debard, + O wicked world so mutable and transitory. 30 + + O dismall day, bereauer of delight, + O stormy winter, sourse of all our sorrow, + O most vntimely and eclipsed morrow, + to rob us quite, + of all delight, + Darkening that starre which euer shone so bright. + + Oh _Elphin_, _Elphin_, Though thou hence be gone, + In spight of death yet shalt thou liue for aye, + Thy Poesie is garlanded with Baye: + and still shalt blaze 40 + thy lasting prayse: + Whose losse poore shepherds euer shall bemone. + + Come Girles, and with Carnations decke his graue, + With damaske Roses and the hyacynt: + Come with sweete Williams, Marioram and Mynt, + with precious Balmes, + with hymnes and psalmes, + This funerall deserues no lesse at all to haue. + + But see where _Elphin_ sits in fayre Elizia, + Feeding his flocke on yonder heauenly playne, 50 + Come and behold, you louely shepheards swayne, + piping his fill + on yonder hill, + Tasting sweete _Nectar_, and _Ambrosia_. + + +_From Eclogue vij_ + + _Borrill._ + + Oh spightfull wayward wretched loue, + Woe to _Venus_ which did nurse thee, + Heauens and earth thy plagues doe proue, + Gods and men haue cause to curse thee. + Thoughts griefe, hearts woe, + Hopes paine, bodies languish, + Enuies rage, sleepes foe, + Fancies fraud, soules anguish, + Desires dread, mindes madnes, + Secrets bewrayer, natures error, 10 + Sights deceit, sullens sadnes, + Speeches expence, Cupids terror, + Malcontents melancholly, + Liues slaughter, deaths nurse, + Cares slaue, dotard's folly, + Fortunes bayte, world's curse, + Lookes theft, eyes blindnes, + Selfes will, tongues treason, + Paynes pleasure, wrongs kindnes, + Furies frensie, follies reason: 20 + With cursing thee as I began, + Neither God, neither man, + Neither Fayrie, neither Feend. + + _Batte._ + + Loue is the heauens fayre aspect, + loue is the glorie of the earth, + Loue only doth our liues direct, + loue is our guyder from our birth, + + Loue taught my thoughts at first to flie, + loue taught mine eyes the way to loue, + Loue raysed my conceit so hie, 30 + loue framd my hand his arte to proue. + + Loue taught my Muse her perfect skill, + loue gaue me first to Poesie: + Loue is the Soueraigne of my will, + loue bound me first to loyalty. + + Loue was the first that fram'd my speech, + loue was the first that gaue me grace: + Loue is my life and fortunes leech, + loue made the vertuous giue me place. + + Loue is the end of my desire, 40 + loue is the loadstarre of my loue, + Loue makes my selfe, my selfe admire, + loue seated my delights aboue. + + Loue placed honor in my brest, + loue made me learnings fauoret, + Loue made me liked of the best, + loue first my minde on virtue set. + + Loue is my life, life is my loue, + loue is my whole felicity, + Loue is my sweete, sweete is my loue, 50 + I am in loue, and loue in mee. + + +_From Eclogue viij_ + + Farre in the countrey of _Arden_ + There wond a knight hight _Cassemen_, + as bolde as _Isenbras_: + Fell was he and eger bent, + In battell and in Tournament, + as was the good sir _Topas_. + He had as antique stories tell, + A daughter cleaped _Dowsabell_, + a mayden fayre and free: + And for she was her fathers heire, 10 + Full well she was ycond the leyre, + of mickle curtesie. + The silke wel couth she twist and twine, + And make the fine Marchpine, + and with the needle werke, + And she couth helpe the priest to say + His Mattens on a holyday, + and sing a Psalme in Kirke. + She ware a frocke of frolicke greene, + Might well beseeme a mayden Queene, 20 + which seemly was to see. + A hood to that so neat and fine, + In colour like the colombine, + ywrought full featously. + Her feature all as fresh aboue, + As is the grasse that grows by Doue, + as lyth as lasse of Kent: + Her skin as soft as Lemster wooll, + As white as snow on peakish hull, + or Swanne that swims in Trent. 30 + This mayden in a morne betime, + Went forth when May was in her prime, + to get sweet Cetywall, + The hony-suckle, the Harlocke, + The Lilly and the Lady-smocke, + to decke her summer hall. + Thus as she wandred here and there, + Ypicking of the bloomed Breere, + she chanced to espie + A shepheard sitting on a bancke, 40 + Like _Chanteclere_ he crowed crancke, + and pip'd with merrie glee: + He leard his sheepe as he him list, + When he would whistle in his fist, + to feede about him round: + Whilst he full many a caroll sung, + Vntill the fields and medowes rung, + and that the woods did sound: + In fauour this same shepheards swayne, + Was like the bedlam _Tamburlayne_, 50 + which helde prowd Kings in awe: + But meeke he was as Lamb mought be, + Ylike that gentle _Abel_ he, + whom his lewd brother slaw. + This shepheard ware a sheepe gray cloke, + Which was of the finest loke, + that could be cut with sheere, + His mittens were of Bauzens skinne, + His cockers were of Cordiwin + his hood of Meniueere. 60 + His aule and lingell in a thong, + His tar-boxe on his broad belt hong, + his breech of Coyntrie blew: + Full crispe and curled were his lockes, + His browes as white as _Albion_ rockes, + so like a louer true. + And pyping still he spent the day, + So mery as the Popingay: + which liked _Dowsabell_, + That would she ought or would she nought, 70 + This lad would neuer from her thought: + she in loue-longing fell, + At length she tucked vp her frocke, + White as the Lilly was her smocke, + she drew the shepheard nie, + But then the shepheard pyp'd a good, + That all his sheepe forsooke their foode, + to heare his melodie. + Thy sheepe quoth she cannot be leane, + That haue a iolly shepheards swayne, 80 + the which can pipe so well. + Yea but (sayth he) their shepheard may, + Jf pyping thus he pine away, + in loue of _Dowsabell_. + Of loue fond boy take thou no keepe, + Quoth she, looke well vnto thy sheepe, + lest they should hap to stray. + Quoth he, so had I done full well, + Had I not seene fayre _Dowsabell_, + come forth to gather Maye. 90 + With that she gan to vaile her head, + Her cheekes were like the Roses red, + but not a word she sayd. + With that the shepheard gan to frowne, + He threw his pretie pypes adowne, + and on the ground him layd. + Sayth she, I may not stay till night, + And leaue my summer hall vndight, + and all for long of thee. + My Coate sayth he, nor yet my foulde, 100 + Shall neither sheepe nor shepheard hould, + except thou fauour me. + Sayth she yet leuer I were dead, + Then I should lose my maydenhead, + and all for loue of men: + Sayth he yet are you too vnkind, + If in your heart you cannot finde, + to loue vs now and then: + And J to thee will be as kinde, + As _Colin_ was to _Rosalinde_, 110 + of curtesie the flower; + Then will I be as true quoth she, + As euer mayden yet might be, + vnto her Paramour: + With that she bent her snowe-white knee, + Downe by the shepheard kneeled shee, + and him she sweetely kist. + With that the shepheard whoop'd for ioy, + Quoth he, ther's neuer shepheards boy, + that euer was so blist. 120 + + +[From the Edition of 1605] + +_From Eclogue ij_ + + Then this great Vniuerse no lesse, + Can serue her prayses to expresse: + Betwixt her eies the poles of Loue, + The host of heauenly beautyes moue, + Depainted in their proper stories, + As well the fixd as wandring glories, + Which from their proper orbes not goe, + Whether they gyre swift or slowe: + Where from their lips, when she doth speake, + The musick of those sphears do breake, 10 + Which their harmonious motion breedeth: + From whose cheerfull breath proceedeth: + That balmy sweetnes that giues birth + To euery ofspring of the earth. + Her shape and cariage of which frame + In forme how well shee beares the same, + Is that proportion heauens best treasure, + Whereby it doth all poyze and measure, + So that alone her happy sight + Conteynes perfection and delight. 20 + + +_From Eclogue ij_ + + Vppon a bank with roses set about, + Where pretty turtles ioyning bil to bill, + And gentle springs steale softly murmuring out + Washing the foote of pleasures sacred hill: + There little loue sore wounded lyes, + His bowe and arowes broken, + Bedewd with teares from Venus eyes + Oh greeuous to be spoken. + + Beare him my hart slaine with her scornefull eye + Where sticks the arrowe that poore hart did kill, 10 + With whose sharp pile request him ere he die, + About the same to write his latest will, + And bid him send it backe to mee, + At instant of his dying, + That cruell cruell shee may see + My faith and her denying. + + His chappell be a mournefull Cypresse Shade, + And for a chauntry Philomels sweet lay, + Where prayers shall continually be made + By pilgrim louers passing by that way. 20 + With Nymphes and shepheards yearly moane + His timeles death beweeping, + In telling that my hart alone + Hath his last will in keeping. + + +[From the Edition of 1606] + +_From Eclogue vij_ + + Now fye vpon thee wayward loue, + Woe to _Venus_ which did nurse thee, + Heauen and earth thy plagues doe proue, + Gods and men haue cause to curse thee. + What art thou but th' extreamst madnesse, + Natures first and only error + That consum'st our daies in sadnesse, + By the minds Continuall terror: + Walking in Cymerian blindnesse, + In thy courses voy'd of reason. 10 + Sharp reproofe thy only kindnesse, + In thy trust the highest treason? + Both the Nymph and ruder swaine, + Vexing with continuall anguish, + Which dost make the ould complaine + And the young to pyne and languishe, + Who thee keepes his care doth nurse, + That seducest all to folly, + Blessing, bitterly doest curse, + Tending to destruction wholly: 20 + Thus of thee as I began, + So againe I make an end, + Neither god neither man, + Neither faiery, neither feend. + + BATTE. + + What is Loue but the desire + Of the thing that fancy pleaseth? + A holy and resistlesse fier, + Weake and strong alike that ceaseth, + Which not heauen hath power to let, + Nor wise nature cannot smother, 30 + Whereby _Phoebus_ doth begette + On the vniuersall mother. + That the euerlasting Chaine, + Which together al things tied, + And vnmooued them retayne + And by which they shall abide: + That concent we cleerely find, + All things doth together drawe, + And so strong in euery kinde, + Subiects them to natures law. 40 + Whose hie virtue number teaches + In which euery thing dooth mooue, + From the lowest depth that reaches + To the height of heauen aboue: + Harmony that wisely found, + When the cunning hand doth strike + Whereas euery amorous sound, + Sweetly marryes with his like. + The tender cattell scarcely take + From their damm's the feelds to proue, 50 + But ech seeketh out a make, + Nothing liues that doth not loue: + Not soe much as but the plant + As nature euery thing doth payre, + By it if the male it want + Doth dislike and will not beare: + Nothing then is like to loue + In the which all creatures be. + From it nere let me remooue + Nor let it remooue from me. 60 + + +_From Eclogue ix_ + + BATTE. + + _Gorbo_, as thou cam'st this waye + By yonder little hill, + Or as thou through the fields didst straye + Sawst thou my _Daffadill_? + + Shee's in a frock of Lincolne greene + The colour maides delight + And neuer hath her beauty seen + But through a vale of white. + + Then Roses richer to behold + That trim vp louers bowers, 10 + The Pansy and the Marigould + Tho _Phœbus_ Paramours. + + _Gorbo._ Thou well describ'st the Daffadill + It is not full an hower + Since by the spring neare yonder hill + I saw that louely flower. + + _Batte._ Yet my faire flower thou didst not meet, + Nor news of her didst bring, + And yet my Daffadill more sweete, + Then that by yonder spring. 20 + + _Gorbo._ I saw a shepheard that doth keepe + In yonder field of Lillies, + Was making (as he fed his sheepe) + A wreathe of Daffadillies. + + _Batte._ Yet _Gorbo_ thou delud'st me stil + My flower thou didst not see, + For know my pretie _Daffadill_ + Is worne of none but me. + + To shew it selfe but neare her seate, + No Lilly is so bould, 30 + Except to shade her from the heate, + Or keepe her from the colde: + + _Gorbo._ Through yonder vale as I did passe, + Descending from the hill, + I met a smerking bony lasse, + They call her _Daffadill_: + + Whose presence as along she went, + The prety flowers did greet, + As though their heads they downward bent, + With homage to her feete. 40 + + And all the shepheards that were nie, + From toppe of euery hill, + Vnto the vallies lowe did crie, + There goes sweet _Daffadill_. + + _Gorbo._ I gentle shepheard, now with ioy + Thou all my flockes dost fill, + That's she alone kind shepheards boy, + Let vs to _Daffadill_. + + +_From Eclogue ix_ + + _Motto._ Tell me thou skilfull shepheards swayne, + Who's yonder in the vally set? + _Perkin._ O it is she whose sweets do stayne, + The Lilly, Rose, or violet. + + _Motto._ Why doth the Sunne against his kind, + Stay his bright Chariot in the skies, + _Perkin._ He pawseth almost stroken blind, + With gazing on her heauenly eies: + + _Motto._ Why doe thy flocks forbeare their foode, + Which somtyme was their chiefe delight, 10 + _Perkin._ Because they neede no other good, + That liue in presence of her sight: + + _Motto._ How com those flowers to florish still, + Not withering with sharpe winters breath? + _Perkin._ She hath robd nature of her skill, + And comforts all things with her breath: + + _Motto._ Why slide these brookes so slow away, + As swift as the wild Roe that were, + _Perkin._ O muse not shepheard that they stay, + When they her heauenly voice do heare. 20 + + _Motto._ From whence com all these goodly swayns + And lonely nimphs attir'd in greene, + _Perkin._ From gathering garlands on the playnes, + To crowne thy _Siluia_ shepheards queen. + + _Motto._ The sun that lights this world below, + Flocks, Brooks and flowers, can witnesse bear, + _Perkin._ These shepheards, and these nymphs do know, + Thy _Syluia_ is as chast, as fayre. + + +_From Eclogue ix_ + + _Rowland._ Of her pure eyes (that now is seen) + _Chorus._ Help vs to sing that be her faithful swains + _Row:_ O she alone the shepheards Queen, + _Cho:_ Her Flocke that leades, + The goddesse of these medes, + These mountaines and these plaines. + + _Row:_ Those eyes of hers that are more cleere, + _Cho:_ Then silly shepheards can in song expresse, + _Row:_ Then be his beams that rule the yeare, + _Cho:_ Fy on that prayse, 10 + In striuing things to rayse: + That doth but make them lesse. + + _Row:_ That doe the flowery spring prolong, + _Cho:_ So much the earth doth in her presence ioy, + _Row:_ And keeps the plenteous summer young: + _Cho:_ And doth asswage + The wrathfull winters rage + That would our flocks destroy. + + _Row:_ _Ioue_ saw her brest that naked lay, + _Cho:_ A sight alone was fit for _Ioue_ to see: 20 + _Row:_ And swore it was the milkie way, + _Cho:_ Of all most pure, + The path (we vs assure) + Vnto _Ioues_ court to be. + + _Row:_ He saw her tresses hanging downe. + _Cho:_ That too and fro were mooued with the ayre, + _Row:_ And sayd that _Ariadnes_ crowne, + _Cho:_ With those compar'd: + The gods should not regard + Nor _Berenices_ hayre. 30 + + _Row:_ When she hath watch'd my flockes by night, + _Cho:_ O happie were the flockes that she did keepe: + _Row:_ They neuer needed _Cynthia's_ light, + _Cho:_ That soone gaue place, + Amazed with her grace, + That did attend thy sheepe. + + _Row:_ Aboue where heauens hie glories are, + _Cho:_ When as she shall be placed in the skies, + _Row:_ She shall be calld the shepheards starre, + _Cho:_ And euermore, 40 + We shepheards will adore, + Her setting and her rise. + + + + +APPENDIX + + +In this Appendix, I have collected certain fugitive pieces of Drayton's; +chiefly commendatory verses prefixed to various friends' books. The +first song is from _England's Helicon_, and is, I think, too pretty to +be lost. Three of the commendatory poems are in sonnet-form, and their +inclusion brings us nearer the whole number published by Drayton; of +which there are doubtless a few still lacking. But I have tried to make +the collection of sonnets as complete as possible. + + +From _England's Helicon_ (1600) p. 97. + +Rowlands _Madrigall._ + + Faire Loue rest thee heere, + Neuer yet was morne so cleere, + Sweete be not vnkinde, + Let me thy fauour finde, + Or else for loue I die. + + Harke this pretty bubling spring, + How it makes the Meadowes ring, + Loue now stand my friend, + Heere let all sorrow end, + And I will honour thee. 10 + + See where little _Cupid_ lyes, + Looking babies in her eyes. + _Cupid_ helpe me now, + Lend to me thy bowe, + To wound her that wounded me. + + Heere is none to see or tell, + All our flocks are feeding by, + This Banke with Roses spred, + Oh it is a dainty bed, + Fit for my Loue and me. 20 + + Harke the birds in yonder Groaue, + How they chaunt vnto my Loue, + Loue be kind to me, + As I haue beene to thee, + For thou hast wonne my hart. + + Calme windes blow you faire, + Rock her thou gentle ayre, + O the morne is noone, + The euening comes too soone, + To part my Loue and me. 30 + + The Roses and thy lips doo meete, + Oh that life were halfe so sweete, + Who would respect his breath, + That might die such a death, + Oh that life thus might die. + + All the bushes that be neere, + With sweet Nightingales beset, + Hush sweete and be still, + Let them sing their fill, + There's none our ioyes to let. 40 + + Sunne why doo'st thou goe so fast? + Oh why doo'st thou make such hast? + It is too early yet, + So soone from ioyes to flit + Why art thou so vnkind? + + See my little Lambkins runne, + Looke on them till I haue done, + Hast not on the night, + To rob me of her light, + That liue but by her eyes. 50 + + Alas, sweete Loue, we must depart, + Harke, my dogge begins to barke, + Some bodie's comming neere, + They shall not find vs heere, + For feare of being chid. + + Take my Garland and my Gloue, + Weare it for my sake my Loue, + To morrow on the greene, + Thou shalt be our Sheepheards Queene, + Crowned with Roses gay. 60 + + _Mich. Drayton._ + +FINIS. + + +From T. Morley's _First Book of Ballets_ (1595). + +Mr. M.D. to the Author. + + Such was old _Orpheus_ cunning, + That sencelesse things drew neere him, + And heards of beasts to heare him, + The stock, the stone, the Oxe, the Asse came running, + Morley! but this enchaunting + To thee, to be the Musick-God is wanting. + And yet thou needst not feare him; + Draw thou the Shepherds still and Bonny lasses, + And enuie him not stocks, stones, Oxen, Asses. + + +Prefixed to Christopher Middleton's _Legend of Humphrey Duke of +Gloucester_ (1600). + +To his friend, Master _Chr. M._ his Booke. + + Like as a man, on some aduenture bound + His honest friendes, their kindnes to expresse, + T'incourage him of whome the maine is own'd; + Some venture more, and some aduenture lesse, + That if the voyage (happily) be good: + They his good fortune freely may pertake; + If otherwise it perrish in the flood, + Yet like good friends theirs perish'd for his sake. + On thy returne I put this little forth, + My chaunce with thine indifferently to proue, + Which though (I know) not fitting with thy worth, + Accept it yet since it proceedes from loue; + And if thy fortune prosper, I may see + I haue some share, though most returne to thee. + + _Mich. Drayton._ + + +Prefixed to John Davies of Hereford; _Holy Roode_ (1609). + +_To_ M. IOHN DAVIES, _my good friend_. + + _Such men as hold intelligence with Letters, + And in that nice and Narrow way of Verse, + As oft they lend, so oft they must be Debters, + If with the _Muses_ they will haue commerce: + Seldome at _Stawles_, me, this way men rehearse, + To mine _Inferiours_, not unto my _Betters: + _He stales his _Lines_ that so doeth them disperse; + I am so free, I loue not _Golden-fetters_. + And many _Lines_ fore _Writers_, be but Setters + To them which cheate with_ Papers; _which doth pierse, + Our Credits: when we shew our selues Abetters: + To those that wrong our knowledge: we rehearse + Often (my good _Iohn_; and I loue) thy_ Letters_; + Which lend me Credit, as I lend my _Verse_._ + + Michael Drayton. + + +Prefixed to Sir David Murray's _Sophonisba_ &c. (1611). + +_To my kinde friend_ Da: Murray. + + In new attire (and put most neatly on) + Thou _Murray_ mak'st thy passionate Queene apeare, + As when she sat on the Numidian throne, + Deck'd with those Gems that most refulgent were. + So thy stronge muse her maker like repaires, + That from the ruins of her wasted vrne, + Into a body of delicious ayres: + Againe her spirit doth transmigrated turne, + That scortching soile which thy great subiect bore, + Bred those that coldly but exprest her merit, + But breathing now vpon our colder shore, + Here shee hath found a noble fiery spirit, + Both there, and here, so fortunate for Fame, + That what she was, she's euery where the same. + + M. DRAYTON. + + +Among the Panegyrical Verses before Coryat's _Crudities_ (1611). + +_Incipit Michael Drayton_. + +A briefe Prologue to the verses _following_. + + Deare _Tom_, thy booke was like to come to light, + Ere I could gaine but one halfe howre to write; + They go before whose wits are at their noones, + _And I come after bringing Salt and Spoones._ + + Many there be that write before thy Booke, + For whom (except here) who could euer looke? + Thrice happy are all wee that had the Grace + To haue our names set in this liuing place. + Most worthy man, with thee it is euen thus, + As men take _Dottrels_, so hast thou ta'n vs. + Which as a man his arme or leg doth set, + So this fond Bird will likewise counterfeit: + Thou art the Fowler, and doest shew vs shapes + And we are all thy _Zanies_, thy true _Apes_. 10 + I saw this age (from what it was at first) + Swolne, and so bigge, that it was like to burst, + Growne so prodigious, so quite out of fashion, + That who will thriue, must hazard his damnation: + Sweating in panges, sent such a horrid mist, + As to dim heauen: I looked for Antichrist + Or some new set of Diuels to sway hell, + Worser then those, that in the _Chaos_ fell: + Wondring what fruit it to the world would bring, + At length it brought forth this: O most strange thing; 20 + And with sore throwes, for that the greatest head + Euer is hard'st to be deliuered. + By thee wise _Coryate_ we are taught to know, + Great, with great men which is the way to grow. + For in a new straine thou com'st finely in, + Making thy selfe like those thou mean'st to winne: + Greatnesse to me seem'd euer full of feare, + Which thou found'st false at thy arriuing there, + Of the _Bermudas_, the example such, + Where not a ship vntill this time durst touch; 30 + Kep't as suppos'd by hels infernall dogs, + Our Fleet found their most honest wyld courteous hogs. + Liue vertuous _Coryate_, and for euer be + Lik'd of such wise men, as are most like thee. + + _Explicit Michael Drayton._ + + +Prefixed to William Browne's _Britannia's Pastorals_ (1613). + +To his Friend the AVTHOR. + + Driue forth thy Flocke, young Pastor, to that Plaine, + Where our old Shepheards wont their flocks to feed; + To those cleare walkes, where many a skilfull Swaine + To'ards the calme eu'ning, tun'd his pleasant Reede, + Those, to the _Muses_ once so sacred, Downes, + As no rude foote might there presume to stand: + (Now made the way of the vnworthiest Clownes, + Dig'd and plow'd vp with each vnhallowed hand) + If possible thou canst, redeeme those places, + Where, by the brim of many a siluer Spring, 10 + The learned Maydens, and delightfull Graces + Often haue sate to heare our Shepheards sing: + Where on those _Pines_ the neighb'ring Groues among, + (Now vtterly neglected in these dayes) + Our Garlands, Pipes, and Cornamutes were hong + The monuments of our deserued praise. + So may thy Sheepe like, so thy Lambes increase, + And from the Wolfe feede euer safe and free! + So maist thou thriue, among the learned prease, + As thou young Shepheard art belou'd of mee! 20 + + +Prefixed to Chapman's Translation of Hesiod's _Georgics_ (1618). + +To my worthy friend Mr. _George Chapman_, and his translated _Hesiod_. + + _Chapman_; We finde by thy past-prized fraught, + What wealth thou dost vpon this Land conferre; + Th'olde _Grecian_ Prophets hither that hast brought, + Of their full words the true interpreter: + And by thy trauell, strongly hast exprest + The large dimensions of the English tongue; + Deliuering them so well, the first and best, + That to the world in Numbers euer sung. + Thou hast vnlock'd the treasury, wherein + All Art, and knowledge haue so long been hidden: 10 + Which, till the gracefull Muses did begin + Here to inhabite, was to vs forbidden. + In blest _Elizivm_ (in a place most fit) + Vnder that tree due to the _Delphian_ God, + _Musæus_, and that _Iliad Singer_ sit, + And neare to them that noble _Hesiod_, + Smoothing their rugged foreheads; and do smile, + After so many hundred yeares to see + Their Poems read in this farre westerne Ile, + Translated from their ancient Greeke, by thee; 20 + Each his good _Genius_ whispering in his eare, + That with so lucky, and auspicious fate + Did still attend them, whilst they liuing were, + And gaue their Verses such a lasting date. + Where slightly passing by the _Thespian_ spring, + Many long after did but onely sup; + Nature, then fruitfull, forth these men did bring, + To fetch deep Rowses from _Ioues_ plentious cup. + In thy free labours (friend) then rest content, + Feare not _Detraction_, neither fawne on _Praise_: 30 + When idle _Censure_ all her force hath spent, + _Knowledge_ can crowne her self with her owne Baies. + Their Lines, that haue so many liues outworne, + Cleerely expounded shall base Enuy scorne. + + _Michael Drayton._ + + +Prefixed to Book ij. of _Primaleon_, &c. Translated by Anthony Munday +(1619). + +_OF THE WORKE_ _and Translation._ + + _If in opinion of iudiciall wit,_ + Primaleons_ sweet Invention well deserue: + Then he (no lesse) which hath translated it, + Which doth his sense, his forme, his phrase, obserue. + And in true method of his home-borne stile, + (Following the fashion of a French conceate) + Hath brought him heere into this famous Ile, + Where but a stranger, now hath made his seate. + He liues a Prince, and comming in this sort, + Shall to his Countrey of your fame report._ + + M.D. + + +From _Annalia Dubrensia_ (1636). + +TO MY NOBLE Friend Mr. ROBERT DOVER, on his braue annuall +_Assemblies_ vpon _Cotswold_. + + Douer, to doe thee Right, who will not striue, + That dost in these dull yron Times reuiue + The golden Ages glories; which poore Wee + Had not so much as dream't on but for Thee? + As those braue _Grecians_ in their happy dayes, + On Mount Olympus to their _Hercules_ + Ordain'd their games Olimpick, and so nam'd + Of that great Mountaine; for those pastimes fam'd: + Where then their able Youth, Leapt, Wrestled, Ran, + Threw the arm'd Dart; and honour'd was the _Man_ 10 + That was the Victor; In the Circute there + The nimble Rider, and skill'd Chariotere + Stroue for the Garland; In those noble Times + There to their Harpes the Poets sang their Rimes; + That whilst _Greece_ flourisht, and was onely then + Nurse of all Arts, and of all famous men: + Numbring their yeers, still their accounts they made, + Either from this or that _Olimpiade_. + So _Douer_, from these _Games_, by thee begun, + Wee'l reckon Ours, as time away doth run. 20 + Wee'l haue thy Statue in some Rocke cut out, + With braue Inscriptions garnished about; + And vnder written, _Loe, this was the man,_ + DOVER, _that first these noble Sports began._ + Ladds of the Hills, and Lasses of the Vale, + In many a song, and many a merry Tale + Shall mention Thee; and hauing leaue to play, + Vnto thy name shall make a Holy day. + The _Cosswold_ Shepheards as their flockes they keepe, + To put off lazie drowsinesse and sleepe, 30 + Shall sit to tell, and heare thy Story tould, + That night shall come ere they their flocks can fould. + + _Michaell Drayton._ + + + + +NOTES + + +These notes are not intended to supply materials for the criticism of +the text. So freely, indeed, did Drayton alter his poems for a fresh +edition, that the ordinary machinery of an _apparatus criticus_ would be +overtasked if the attempt were made. All that has been undertaken here +is to provide the requisite information in places where the text +followed seemed open to suspicion. + +It may be added that the punctuation of the originals has in general +been preserved; in a few flagrant instances, where the text as it stood +was misleading, it has been modified. Such changes are not noted here. + + 2, 1, l. 14 vertues] vertuous 1619 + + 3, 3, l. 1 Ioue] loue 1599, 1602, 1605 + + l. 3 them forth,] them, forth 1599. _But the 1619 version + supports the reading in the text._ + + 5, 8, l. 8 men] ones 1599: women 1619 + + l. 9 to 1599, 1619: of 1594 + + 6, 9, l. 11 in] on 1602 + + 10, l. 12 her] his 1602: their 1619 + + 8, 14, l. 14 anatomize 1599. _But there is ground for believing + that_ anotamize _represents a current + pronunciation._ + + 9, 15, l. 10 She'st] ? She'll + + 10, 17, l. 9 Were] Where 1594 + + 18, l. 5 Elizia] Elizium 1599 + + 11, 20, l. 10 whir-poole] whirl-poole 1602 + + l. 12 Helycon] Helicon 1602 + + 14, 26, l. 5 Thy 1599 etc.: The 1594 + + 15, 27, l. 4 Thus] This 1594 + + l. 12 depriued] ? depraued + + 18, 33, l. 3 Wishing] Wisheth 1599 + + 19, 36, l. 13 And others] And eithers 1599 + + 20, 37, l. 4 euer-certaine] neuer-certaine 1602 + + 28, 1, l. 4 song] sung 1613 + + 31, 10, l. 2 bids] bad 1619 + + l. 12 my ... his] his ... my 1619 + + 37, 30, l. 14 hollowed] halowed 1605: hallow'd 1619. _But cf._ 94, + l. 18. + + 38, 43, l. 3 Wherein 1602, 1605: Where, in 1619: Wherein 1599 + + 39, 44, l. 4 Paynting] Panting 1608 + + l. 8 Wherein 1602, 1605, 1619: Where in 1599 + + 40, 55, l. 7 forces heere,] forces, here 1619 + + 56, _heading_ A Consonet] A Cansonet 1602 + + 41, 57, l. 13 yet] then 1595 + + 42, 17, ll. 4, 13 Promethius] Prometheus 1605 + + 43, 27, l. 2 Who can he loue? 1608: Who? can he loue: 1619 + + l. 12 They resolute,] They resolute? 1608, 1619 + + 44, 31, l. 4 appose] oppose 1608, 1619 + + l. 9 They 1619: The 1602, 1605, 1608 + + 48, 47, l. 8 a 1619: and 1605, 1608 + + 49, 51, l. 1 to 1608: _omitted in_ 1605 + + 53, 21, l. 11 soe] ? loe + + l. 13 Troth] Froth 1619 + + 71, l. 16 scowles] scoulds 1606 + + l. 37 whome 1606: whose 1619 + + l. 41 rage 1606: age 1619 + + 74, l. 25 he 1619: shee 1606 + + 77, l. 34 some few 1606: some, few 1619 + + 79, l. 10 their] ? there. + + 83, l. 72 Stuck] _The emendation_ Struck _is tempting (the form + is somewhat uncommon but not unparalleled); + especially in view of_ l. 80. + + 94, l. 18 hollow'd] _cf._ 37, 30, l. 14 + + 96, l. 120 the] _no doubt a printer's error for_ they + + 97, l. 125 be lowe] belowe 1627 + + 97, l. 126 whether] whethet 1627 + + 98, l. 37 it] _omitted in_ 1627 + +101, l. 62 be] ? been + +104, l. 88 him] ? them + + l. 94 ceaze 1620: lease 1627 + +106, l. 37 his] _omitted in_ 1631 + + l. 56 warnd] warne 1627 + +110, l. 105 Neat] Next _conj. Beeching_ + +118, _heading_ Chaplaine] Chapliane 1627 + +120, l. 81 extirpe 1631: extipe 1627 + +146, l. 90 fett] sett _and_ frett _have been conjectured._ + +153, l. 92 debate] delate 1627 + +154, l. 115 claue] ? cleaue + +156, l. 220 euery] euer 1627 + +174, l. 225 wither] whither 1630 + +177, l. 343 rawe] taw 1748 + +192, l. 18 there] they 1630 + +232, l. 12 vnto] vp to 1619 + +233, l. 53 fame] faire 1606 + +234, l. 66 moue] mock 1606 + +238, l. 25 feature] features 1619 + +240, l. 99 long] loue 1606 + +242, _Ecl. ij,_ l. 21 moane 1600: moans 1605 + +243, l. 55 But it if the Male doth want 1619 + +244, l. 37 along she went 1619: she went along 1606 + +245, l. 43 lowe] loud 1600, 1619 + +247, l. 37 glories 1619: glorious 1606 + + +ERRATA + +Page 94, l. 5 _for_ of said _read_ said + + " 173, l. 170 _for_ you _read_ your + + + + +Oxford +Printed at the Clarendon Press +By Horace Hart, M.A. +Printer to the University + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Minor Poems of Michael Drayton, by Michael Drayton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MINOR POEMS OF MICHAEL DRAYTON *** + +***** This file should be named 17873-0.txt or 17873-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/8/7/17873/ + +Produced by David Starner, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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