(Hmull PRC FISKE L,ibrarian Univmitg | SilratJg rHE FUND 1868-1883 atkiif. )M THE INCOME OF ' ENDOWMENT THE BEQUEST OF of the University 1905 3184 Cornell University Library PR 2255.A5C69 Poems-From the earUest and rare^^^^^^^ 3 1924 013 120 120 .i»....i The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013120120 POEMS BY MICHAEL DRAYTOK. POEMS BY MICHAEL DRAYTON. FKOM THE EARLIEST AND RAREST EDITIONS, OR FROM UNIQUE COPIES. EDITED BY J. PAYNE COLLIER, ESQ. PRINTED FOE THE 2SlO):burgi)f Club. LONDON: J. B. NICHOLS AND SONS, 25, PARLIAMENT STREET. MDCCCLVI. E.V, POEMS BY MICHAEL DRAYTON. iwxiimM<5i^ncHAEL drayton ..... i. — K. THE HARMONY OF THE CHURCH, 1591, 4to. from the uotque copy in THE BRITISH MUSEUM .... .... .1 IDEA. THE SHEPHERDS GARLAND, 1593, 4to. from a copy the pro- perty OF THE EDITOR 61 IDEA'S MIRROR, 1594, 4to. from a copy in the library of the late w. h. MILLER, ESQ. ........... 145 ENDYMION AND PHCEBE, n. d. 4to. from a copy the property of the EDITOR ............. 191 MORTIMERIADOS, THE LAMENTABLE CIVIL WARS, &c. 1596, 4to. from a copy in the BODLEIAN LIBRARY ........ 241 POEMS LYRIC AND PASTORAL, n. d. 8vo. from a copy the property of BOLTON COENEY, ESQ. . . ........ 377 IDEA, SONNETS BY MICHAEL DRAYTON, from the editions of 1599, 8vo. AND 1619, folio, the property of the earl of ellesmeee, k.g. . . 439 INTRODUCTION. When considering the rank the Poets of the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. are entitled to hold with reference to each other, it is of course necessary to put Shakespeare entirely out of the question. To Spenser also the same pre-eminence, though on somewhat different grounds, may he said to belong ; and Ben Jonson's superior claims to* admiration, for strength of thought, vigour of expression, and learning, can hardly be disputed. The question is, what place Michael Drayton occupies among the secondary poets of the period in which he lived? At the head of these he has unquestionably a right to stand; and though, to mention- onlj his particular competitor, he is inferior to Samuel Daniel in smoothness of versification, and perhaps in grace of expres- sion, he much exceeds him in originality of conception, and in force and variety of style. Drayton has written ill in no species of poetical composition, and he has written well in most : he tried many, and he excelled, more or less, in all he tried. His talents were rather nar- rative than colloquial ; but of his abilities as a dramatist we have no sufficient means of forming a judgment : he wrote, or assisted in writing, several plays ; but only one has descended to our day, and that in a state so imperfect and disfigured, that it can afford no criterion of his powers ; ' but there is scarcely any other form of ^ It is called " The first part of the true and honourable History of Sir John Oldcastle, the good Lord Cobham," and it was printed in 1600, some copies having the name of Shakespeare, and others no name, upon the title-page : this was a fraud or a blunder ; and Henslowe's Diary (printed by the Shakespeare Society in 1845) shows that the drama was really the authorship of Anthony Munday, Robert Wilson, Eichard Hathway, and Michael Drayton (see p. 158, &c.) b 11 INTRODTJCTION. poetry of which he did not produce examples, and those examples ought to be held up to admiration and applause. His popularity, especially in the middle period of his career, was great, and he deserved that popularity : he merited, too, the high estimation in which he was held, not merely by such men as Sir John Beaumont and Lord Sterling, but by Selden and Ben Jonson. The well-known poem, entitled " The Yision of Ben Jonson on the Muses of his friend M. Drayton," is a generous and disinterested encomium of the excellences of a great poet, and, with singular ingenuity and critical sagacity, the writer enumerates and praises all the chief Avorks Drayton had previously published.' To Ben Jonson also we confidently, and wUlingly, ascribe the epitaph — worthy of the writer and the subject — upon Drayton's monument in Westminster Abbey. It is remarkable that we know little or nothing of Drayton beyond what he has himself told us in various productions. These, therefore, it will be our duty to examine with some minuteness, observing, in the outset, that the volume in the hands of the reader consists of several of Drayton's earlier works, which until now have either never been reprinted at all, or never in the shape in which they originally came from his pen. All of them, in these editions, are of the greatest possible rarity, and some are from copies which may be pronounced unique : the most patient and industrious search has yet found no other exemplars. Drayton was in the habit of altering and amending his verses in almost every im- pression; and in the collections of Anderson and Chalmers, as well indeed as in the separate editions of 1748 and 1752, they are only to be seen in the state in which, after much pruning and polishing, Drayton finally left them. Two of the works included in our volume have never seen the light since the date when they first came out, towards the close of the reign of Elizabeth, and the r-^st ' It was first printed in 1627, as an introduction to Drayton's heroic poem, " The Battle of Agincourt." For it see Ben Jonsons Works, by Gifford, viii. 338. INTRODUCTION. Ill are precisely in the form in which they were first minted from the brain of the poet. So " far, therefore, our volume may be said to be a novelty ; and it will be highly valuable for the purpose of tracing, not only the variations of the author's mind, and the im- provements of his taste, but of ascertaining the changes and progress of our language in the interval between the birth of Drayton, about the same period and in the same county as Shakespeare, and his death, fifteen years after that of his unrivalled contemporary. With the view of assisting and promoting bibliographical and biographical investigation, as well as for the sake of needful explana- tion, we have appended notes to each production, which not merely refer to Drayton and his effusions, but advert, more or less, to the lives and labours of his friends and contemporaries, who have con- tributed to the literature of our country. If these notes are in some instances extended beyond the usual limits, their enlargement has been rendered necessary, in order to place distinctly before the reader the means of comparing the text of the poet, as he originally wrote it, with what he left it, when he last dismissed it from his hands. Thus, at one view, we endeavour to present Drayton's oldest readings and his maturest emendations. The date of his birth is only to be ascertained by inference. In 1613 his portrait was published ; by whom it was painted is not stated,' but it was engraved by Wil. Hole, and round it is the following inscription : — Effigies MicHaelis Drayton, Armigeri, Poetse clariss. Mtai. suae L. A. Clir. i. DC. xiii. ^ An excellent portrait of Drayton is preserved at Dulwicli College : he is in a dark dress, and the features very much resemble those in the engraving by Hole, but younger. The picture was bequeathed by Cartwright, the actor, and is probably an original. The engraved portrait of 1613 has the ensuing lines beneath it: — Lux Hareshulla tibi (Warwici villa, tenebris, Ante tuas Cunas obsita) Prima fuit. Anna, Viros, Veneres, Patriam modulamine dixti; Te Patrise resonant Arma, Viri, Veneres. b 2 IV , INTRODTJCTION. Taking tMs representation, and it is no doubt true, that Drayton was fifty in 1613, he must have been born' in 1563, the year before Shakespeare. We are told by Burton, in 1622, in his Leicestershire, that the family of his " near countryman and old acquaintance," in the first instance, came from the town of Drayton : this may be fact or fancy, but it is certain that they removed early into Warwick- shire, and the poet himself informs us, in one of his later works, that he was born in that county: he is speaking of Warwickshire: — My native country then, which so brave spirits hath bred, If there be virtue yet remaining in thy earth, Or any good of thine thou breathd'st into my birth ,^ Accept it as thine own, whilst now I sing of thee. Of all thy later brood unworthiest though I be. — Polyolhion, Song 13. He does not specify the place where he was born, but this omission can hardly surprise us, seeing that, when he speaks of Stratford and the Avon, he neglects to mention Shakespeare, although in the same division of his work, but for a different purpose, he celebrates Dodoens and Gerard, the authors of two herbals. Sir William Dugdale also claims Drayton in his Antiquities of Warwickshire, and there is no doubt that he was born at Hartshill (commonly called Harshull), not, as has always been said and repeated, in the parish of Atherstone, for Atherstone is not a parish, but merely a township of the parish of Mancetter, and HartshiU a hamlet in the same parish. Mancetter is, therefore, Drayton's native parish, and at the mother-church there, baptisms, marriages, and burials were registered : no biographer of Drayton seems to have thought of consulting these records at Mancetter ; but if search had been made, it would have been unavailing, for on a recent inquiry, instituted for the purpose of this work, it has been found that the existing books go no farther back than 1576, thirteen years after Drayton was born. In those registers, at later dates, we are informed that the name of Drayton ' Nobody looks for accuracy in Anderson or Chalmers ; but " breathd'st," in this line, has, we believe, invariably been misprinted hredCst. INTRODUCTION. not unfrequently occurs, but in no instance with the christian name of Michael, and they throw no light whatever on the history of the family or descendants of the poet. In fact, the first we hear of Drayton is from himself in 1591, when he published his earliest known work " The Harmony of the Church," and dedicated it in prose to a member (by marriage) of the noble family of Essex, Lady Jane Devereux of Merivale. Meri- vale is on the boundary between Leicestershire, from which the poet's family came, and Warwickshire, where they subsequently settled, rather more than a mile from Hartshill. Drayton dates his dedication from London, 10 Peb. 1590-1 ; and, although there is reason to think that " The Harmony of the Church," consisting of the " spiritual songs and holy hymns of godly men, patriarchs, and prophets," all derived from the Bible, and " reduced (as the author expresses it) into sundry kinds of English metre," was composed in the country, we may presume that as early as 1591 Drayton was settled in the metropolis. It has been conjectured, on the founda- tion of some lines near the opening of Book III. of his " Moses, in a map of his Miracles," first published ia 1604, that Drayton was a witness at Dover of the destruction of the Spanish Armada in 1688.' This statement has been frequently reiterated ; but when we quote the. words of the poet, it will be seen that, although he mentions the event as a parallel to the overwhelming of Pharoah and his host in the Bed Sea, they warrant no such conclusion as that Drayton saw what he described. " In eighty-eight, at Dover that had been, To view that navy (like a mighty wood) Whose sails swept heaven, might eas'ly there have seen How puissant Pharaoh perish'd in the flood. What for a conquest strictly they did keep, Into the Channel presently was pour'd, CastiLian riches scatter'd on the deep. That Spain's long hopes had suddenly devour'd. ^ Chalmers, of course by an error of the press, places this event in 1568. VI INTEODUCTION. Th' afflicted English rang'd along the strand, To wait what would this threatening power betide, Now when the Lord, with a victorious hand. In his high justice scourg'd th' Iberian pride.'' There is nothing here to show that Drayton beheld what he refers to so generally ; and, if he had witnessed such a sight, he would have been sure to have said it in much more distinct and unequi- vocal terms. Therefore, all we arrive at is, that he was in London when, on 10 'Feb. 1590-1, he dedicated his "Harmony of the Church" to Lady Jane Devereux. At the same time, as Drayton was at that date twenty-eight years old, it is not at all improbable that he had come to London about the same time as Shakespeare. It has generally, and perhaps correctly, been supposed, that our great dramatist left Stratford in 1586 or 1587 : the two poets resided at no great distance from each other, and it is only indulging a pleasant and a pardonable fancy to imagine, as they were nearly of an age, that one may have influenced the other, and that they may have even travelled together from Warwickshire. Thomas Greene, who was acquainted with both, and particularly friendly with Drayton,' was perhaps of the same party ; and we know that ' Thomas Greene has a laudatory sonnet prefixed to Drayton's " Barons Wars," as the work appeared under that title in 1603 ; and in that year he printed a poem in his own name — the first as he teUs us he had ever written — called, " A Poet's Vision and a Prince's Glory :" he represents himself as seeing CaUiope in a dream, and she thus speaks of Daniel, with reference to his "Delia,'' and of Drayton in allusion to " Idea." " The chiefest pay we had to set us forth. In all our wants, came from the princely North, And some from hence, from worthie Delia!s store, From sweete Idiiea, and from some few more ; AH which, so short of what we had before. To those rich times so slender and so poore, That with it we our selves could scarce sustaine. Our number was so great, so small our gaine." — Sign. B. 4. The meaning is, that Daniel's Deha, and Drayton's Idea, had furnished some supplies to the Muses. INTRODUCTION. Vll some distinguished members of tlie theatrical profession, either as actors or authors, came to the great centre of the kingdom about that period. There is, however, no suflficient reason to think that Drayton, as a dramatist, united himself to any theatrical association until some years afterwards ; and then, not to the company to which Shakespeare from the first had belonged. It is to be admitted also, that the earliest productions of the two poets did not at aU assimilate ; for, while Shakespeare (yet in the country) had devoted himself to a mythological and descriptive subject, Drayton had employed himself upon what he terms, without much propriety, "translations" from the Scriptures. What obligations he may have owed to Lady Jane Devereux is only stated in the most general terms in his dedication : he was unwilling (he says) "to be found ingrateful either in behalf of his country, or the place of his birth;" and, although he applauds the "bountiful hospitality" of the lady, he does not lead us to suppose that he had partaken of it. The evidence of Drayton himself has been adduced to establish that, at a very early age, viz. in 1573, he was in the situation of page to some person of rank ; and it is by no means impossible, although the nobleman is nowhere named, that he was Walter Earl of Essex, to whom Lady Jane Devereux was sister-in-law, and who, late in his career, undertaking most arduous and active duties aa-ainst the rebels in Ireland, died in Dublin in 1676. Supposing the speculation that Drayton was his page to have any foun- dation, it is very improbable that so young a boy would be called upon to accompany the Earl to these scenes of enterprise and danger. Of his early education, and of his earnest yearning, even in childhood, to become a poet, Drayton himself gives a very interest- ing account in his epistle in verse to his friend Henry Reynolds, " Of Poets and Poesy," which was not published until 1627, and viii INTBODTJCTION. from internal evidence could hardly have been written much earlier. The lines are these : — For from my cradle (you must know that) I Was still inclin'd to noble Poesie ; And when that once Ptwriles I had read, And newly had my Cato construed, In my small selfe I greatly marvell'd then, Amongst 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, soarse ten years of age) Clasping my slender armes about his thigh ; my deare master ! cannot you (quoth I) Make me a poet ? Doe it, if you can. And you shall see He quickly be a man. Who me thus answer'd 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. — Phoebus 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 fuL. careere could make him stop. And bound upon Parnassus by-clift top. 1 scorn'd your ballet then, though it were done, And had for Finis William Elderton. But soft ! in sporting with this childish jest I from my subject have too long digrest; Then, to the matter that we tooke in hand : Jove and Apollo for the Muses stand ! It is very rarely that an old poet has told us so much about him- seK in his infancy : if Shakespeare had been equally communica- tive upon the pursuits and propensities of his youth, we should INTRODUCTIOX. IX not have been compelled to conjecture so vaguely about his early education and prop-ess. Aubrey says of Drayton that his father was a butcher : in his MS. in the Ashmolean Museum, he gives the same trade to the father of Shakespeare ; and it is very incon- sistent with Drayton's own assertion, that at ten years old he was " a proper goodly page" to some person of distinction. There seems no doubt as to this fact ; and perhaps to this latter circumstance he was indebted for the assistance he obtained from the family tutor. The young Lord Hereford, subsequently Earl of Essex, the froward and wayward favourite of Elizabeth, was considerably younger than Drayton : he was only nine years old at the time of the death of his father in 1576; but, nevertheless, it is not im- possible that this tutor, who initiated Drayton in the study of poets and poesy, was no other than Mr. "Wright, the instructor of young Lord Hereford.' However, if such had been the fact, we should, in all probability, not have been left to conjecture : Drayton could hardly have failed to mention or allude to it, and we only notice it as a possibility, and an agreeable topic for speculation. We shall see, hereafter, that Drayton expresses his gratitude to the Goodere family for attention to his youthfiil studies. We are quite in the dark as to Drayton's immediate reason for abandoning his home at Hartshill : perhaps the lady whom he always designated by the name of "Idea," and who resided at no great distance, did not return his affection : his person was small (he calls himseK "little E-owland") and his complexion swarthy,^ and, however firm and devoted in his passion, the lady, like Spenser's Rosalind, might hot favour his. approaches. Her parents ^ Who afterwards accompanied the young peer to College. See " Lives of the Earls of Essex," by the Hon. W. B. Devereux, i. 168. ^ In the last line of stanza ix. of his " Legend of- Eobert Duke of Normandy" he 'speaks of his " swart and melancholy face," and the expression of his countenance, according to his portraits, was anything but cheerful : it was grave, thoughtful, and jjhlegmatic. C X INTRODUCTION. might be averse to the match, and it seems certain that they were people of consideration, if not of rank. All we know is, that Drayton quitted Warwickshire, and came to London. A passage was inserted by him in the second edition of his Pastorals (which made its appearance after James I. had ascended the throne, and of which we- shall say more by and by,) obscurely, and rather mysteriously, adverting to his abandonment of his birth-place, and his settlement in the South. It has been unnoticed by his biographers, and to what extent we are to receive the representa- tion there made must be doubtful. It is put into the mouth of Rowland's friend Winken, who, lamenting the departure of i^he shej)herd, speaks of him thus : — Unhappy Rowland ! that from me art fled, And setst old Winken and his words at naught, And, like a gracelesse and untutor'd lad, Art now departed from my aged sight, And needsly to the southern fields wilt gad. Where thou dost live in thriftlesse vayn delight : Thou wanton boy, as thou canst pype as well As any he a bagpipe that doth beare, Still let thy rownds of that goood shepheard tel, To whom thou hast been evermore so dears. Eglog VI. He afterwards adds four lines, from which we may possibly gather that Drayton had not led a very creditable course of life after he came to London ,: — And all those toyes that vainly you allure Shall in the end no other guerdon have. But living shall you mickle woe procure, And lastly bring you to an unknown grave. Thus Drayton wrote, not in 1593, when his Pastorals first came out, but about 1604 or 1605, after he had had experience of the world, after he had been a writer for a theatre, and after his dis- appointment of courtly favour, which he elsewhere laments so INTRODUCTION. XI poignantly. We may infer from his expressions, that during his visit to London he had taken to some course of life not then thought reputable ; and he would not have spoken of himself in such terms, at such a time, if his conduct, on quitting Warwick- shire, had not been at least irregular. His earliest known work establishes indisputably that before 1591 he was well-read in the Scriptures, for it is entirely founded upon them ; and it shows, not only a general, but a particular acquaint- ance with many parts of the Old Testament. His dedication, as we have stated, bears date on 10 February, 1590-1 ; and on the first of that month Richard Jones, the printer of the tract, had entered it at Stationers' Hall precisely in the following manner. We give it mth minute exactness, and it has never been quoted : — Primo Februarij [1590-1]. Richard Jones. Entred for his Copie, &c. The Triumphes of the Churohe, conteyninge the spiritual! songes and holie himnes of godlie men, Patriarkes and Prophettes . . . vj d. It is more than probable that at this date the work had passed through the press ; but perhaps the title-page had not been worked off, or finally agreed upon ; for, when it made its appearance, it was not called " The Triumphs of the Church," as in the above entry, but "The Harmony of the Church." In the books of the same Company there is another memorandum of still more importance, dated in the same year, which proves that, for some reason not assigned, all the copies of the book had been seized by public order ; that Bishop, the stationer, had bought them, with other works in the same predicament ; but that the Archbishop of Canterbury had issued his warrant for the delivery of forty copies to him, and that they remained at Lambeth under the care of Dr. Cosen. The note in the original register runs thus : — [1591.J Whereas all the seised Bookes, mentioned in the last aocoumpte before this, were sould c 2 XU INTRODUCTION. this yere to Mr. Byshop, Be it remembered tliat fortye of them, being Harmonies of the Churche, rated at ij s. le peece, were had from him by warrante of my lordes grace of Canterburie, and remayne at Lambithe with Mr. Doctor Cosen ; and for some other of the saide bookes, the said Mr. Bishop hath paid iij li., as appeareth in the charge of this aocoumpte, and the residue remayne in tlae Hall to th'use of Yarrette James. The books seized during the year were doubtless sold to Bishop on the undertaking that he should destroy them ; but, as what is called above "the last aocoumpte before this" is not extant, it is impossible to ascertain of what character were the books which had been seized together with Drayton's " Harmony of the Church." The Archbishop of Canterbury, it is to be observed, rescued forty copies, which were deposited in the palace at Lambeth ; but, in all probability, the rest, viz. those bought by Bishop, and others left with Yarrette James, were destroyed. This fact will, in some degree, account for the extreme scarcity of Drayton's earliest known performance : only a single copy remains of it, and that is among the valuable books formerly collected by George III., and deposited in the British Museum by his successor.' Prom it our transcript has necessarily been made ; and, although in our day it might seem difficult to find any serious objection to the tone, spirit, and object of the work, it is not improbable, (recollecting the character of the times when it was published, and the animosity prevailing among parties in, and hostile to the Church) that exception was taken to its tendency or orthodoxy. On this account it may have been seized and suppressed by public authority ; but it seems clear, from the steps taken by the anti-puritanical Archbishop, Whitgift, to save forty copies, that he did not concur in the condemnation : perhaps the exemplar now in the British Museum was one of those thus rescued, but we can safely affirm that there is now no such work in the archiepiscopal library. ' " The Harmony of the Church " was formerly reprinted by the Percy Society, under the editorship of the Rev. A. Dyce ; but he was not acquainted with the particulars we have gleaned from the archives of the Company of Stationers. INTRODUCTION. Xlll The name of Michael Drayton is subscribed at full length to the dedication, and his initials are on the title-page, as well as at the close of the brief address "to the courteous reader;" but, as far as the Stationers' Registers are concerned, his name does not appear in the transaction, nor is it known that he was ever called in question on account of the work. It is far from certain that it was Drayton's first essay in verse, and in type : on the contrary, we are strongly inclined to the opinion that as early as 1586 or 1587, when so many poets tasked their muses to celebrate and lament Sir Philip Sidney, our poet had, in the same way, evinced his affection and regret. He distinctly affirms, in his sixth pastoral, as he printed it in 1604 or 1605, that he had been kindly regarded by Sidney, and the evidence that he wrote upon that melancholy theme is decisive : still it is possible, though under the circumstances hardly probable, that he did not at the time print what he had written. In 1606, a person of the name of Nicholas Baxter, or Backster (whose initials were long mistaken for those of that voluminous pamphleteer Nicholas Breton,) published a long and tedious poem, entitled, " Sir Philip Sidney's Ourania," dedicating it to the Countess of Pembroke, whom in the course of the performance he styles Cynthia. He tells us that he had been tutor to Sidney, and he designates his pupil by the name of Astrophil. Backster's work contains the following lines : — " But when my Cynthia knew 'twas Astrophill, She ranne to claspe him in her daintie armes ; But out, alas ! it passed mortall skill : Inchaunted was the knight with sacred charmes, His bodie dead of yore, the more our harmes. O noble Drayton ! well didst thou rehearse Our damages in dryrie sable verse." Sign. M. 4. The corrected copy from which we quote belonged to the author, and is signed with his own name, Backster, which in various parts XIV INTRODUCTION. of the small volume he translates Tergaster. He was certainly one of Drayton's early acquaintances ; and hence we see that our poet had celebrated Sir PhUip Sidney in verse, on the occasion of his death in the autumn of 1586. It is not likely that Backster would have thus spoken of Drayton's production, if it had been only in manu- script; and we apprehend that he subsequently made it a ]3art of the publication we have next to examine, which stands second in the volume in the hands of the reader. It came out with the date of 1593, and was entered at Stationers' Hall in the following manner : — 23 Aprilis [1593]. Mr. Woodcock. Entred for his copie A booke entituled Idea. The shepherdes garlond. Fasshioned in x. ecloges, and alowed under mr. Hart- wells hand : intrat. in curia . . . . vj d. It will be observed that ten eclogues are here mentioned ; but the work, as published, included only nine, and that number is upon the title-page. Productions of this class, and of this date, (witness particularly those of Spenser in 1579, and of Lodge in 1595), often covertly touched upon temporary events and public characters ; and are we to suppose that Drayton, upon " better advice," omitted one of those he originally intended to publish ? Probably not ; for, though the number nine may be unusual, the author speaks of it in another of his works as sacred, and Lodge himself so treats it when, in his "Fig for Momus," he is speaking of Drayton. It is more reasonable to suppose that the clerk at Stationers' Hall, in making the entry, committed an error ; although true it is that, when Drayton republished his Pastorals, he added a tenth eclogue, as if the collection in 1593 had been incomplete. " Idea. The Shepherd's Garland," was printed for Thomas Wood- cock, in whose name it had been entered at Stationers' Hall : it is more or less an imitation of the " Shepherd's Calendar," the model of such productions in English. The fourth Eclogue is devoted to INTRODUCTION. XV the death of Elphin, under which name Drayton (who throughout the volume calls himself Rowland) shadows Sir Philip Sidney — Wynken bewayleth Elphin's losse, the God of Poesie, With Rowlands rime, ecleeped the teares of the greene Hawthorne tree. The speakers in the dialogue are "Wynken and Gorho, and the former sings a song he had learned from " Rowland of the Eock," or " learned Rowland," as the poet calls himself, in reference to the ignorant simplicity of shepherds. Who were intended hy Wynken and Gorbo, at this distance of time it would be useless to inquire ; but, as Lodge did just afterwards, it is certain that Drayton, under these and other rustic names, concealed his friends or fellow-poets. The song Wynken sings, beginning Melpomene, put on thy mourning gaberdine, we may feel confident was not composed for this publication : it had been written, and perhaps printed, nearer the date of the death of Sidney, and we are much mistaken if it be not the very piece to which Backster alludes in his " Sir Philip Sidney's Ourania." We apprehend, too, that when it was originally printed, it was called " The Tears of the Green Hawthorn." It will be seen by our notes on this eclogue, as it appeared in 1593, that Drayton most materially altered it between that year and the commencement of the next century, when these Pastorals were republished : the author then omitted this older tribute to Sidney, and substituted another of a more historical and commemorative character. Hence, in part, the value of a reprint of the earliest edition of " Idea. The Shepherd's Garland;" for, otherwise, this song, by such a poet as Drayton upon such a contemporary as Sidney, would have been entirely lost : it is remarkable that it XVI INTRODUCTION. has never been noticed by tbe biographers of Drayton, probably because they never had before them a copy of the original im- pression of his Pastorals in 1593. The production which super- seded the song is much more laboured and particular ; but it wants the youthful spirit and poetry belonging to the song, as we may suppose it to have been written in 1586 or 1587. The word " Idea," at the head of the title-page of these nine eclogues, wiU excite inquiry. We have no intelligence that Drayton ever married; but before he came to London from Hartshill, he avows, as we have stated, that he had fallen deeply in love with a lady, apparently of some rank : she had been born at Coventry,' and resided upon the small river Ankor, which Drayton often cele- brates, as near his own birth-place : it was also near the residence of her to whom the poet, in the abundance of his imaginative faculty, imputes more beauties and excellences than probably be- longed to the object of his passion. It was in compliment to her, the creature of Drayton's " Idea," that he constantly wrote and spoke of her by that designation, and placed it at the head of his title-page in 1593. The fifth of his eclogues (p. 87) is especially devoted to her applause : — This lustie swayne his lowly quill to higher notes doth rayse, And in Ideas person paynts his lovely lasses prayse. In this pastoral Drayton is extravagant in his description of the beauty, virtue, and other perfections of " Idea;" but when he republished the work, more than ten years afterwards (see our notes, page 127), although still faithful to his first choice, he had sobered down to a more discreet and prosaic species of attachment. Hence it appears also (a fact not stated in 1593), that " Idea " had an elder ^ See Drayton's " Hymn to his Lady's Birth-place," p. 417. He especially speaks of Mich-park Street, Coventry, as that in which " Idea " was born. INTllODUCTION. X.VH sister, Avliom our poet names Panape, putting the praise of both into the mouth of his friend Perkin : — As those two sisters, most discreetly wise, That vertue's hests religiously obey, Whose prayse my skill is wanting to comprize; Th'eld'st of which is that good Panape, In shady Arden her deare flocke that keepes. Where mournfull Ankor for her sicknes weepes. These lines were written about 1604 or 1605, and at that date Panape was in ill health, and her sister "Idea" unmarried : we do not learn, from any known source, that in this respect she ever changed her condition — certainly not with Drayton. His fidelity, neverthe- less, remained unshaken ; and when, many years afterwards, he wrote what he terms an Elegy, but which may with more propriety bQ called an epistle, " Of his Lady's not coming to London," it was merely one of those artificial effusions of fancy and gallantry, that came into fashion towards the close of the reign of James I., were continued till the Civil "Wars, and were revived with additional extravagance at the E,estoration. Drayton's " Hymn to his Lady's Birth-place," already mentioned, and written, perhaps, twenty years earlier, is a production of a very different character, full of grace, simplicity, and poetry, and of much local and personal interest. It was not printed untU 1619 ; but it belongs to a period before the mind of the writer had laid aside, for a while, the unaffected garb of truth and nature, and had become somewhat enamoured of the tinsel of courtly habiliments. There is no copy of " Idea. The Shepherd's Garland," at Oxford, Cambridge, nor in the British Museum. Mr. Heber had an ex- emplar which sold, at his sale, for nearly as many guineas as there are leaves in it ; but that we have employed is especially valuable, from the circumstance that it once belonged to Queen Elizabeth's favourite, the Earl of Essex, and has his autograph on the title-page, d Xviii INTEODUCTIOX. together with various manuscript corrections, of which we have availed ourselves in our notes. We may indulge a visionary specu- lation, that it was presented by Drayton to the Earl, and it may possibly form a slight and distant link of connection between the two poets, Avho, as we have hinted, may have had the same tutor. Certain it is that a similar spirit, as regards works of imagination, seems to have been instilled into both ; and, in a note regarding a passage on p. 76 of our volume, we have alluded to the possibility, amounting almost to probability, that in Drayton's third eclogue Lord Essex is pointed at, as having listened with pleasure to a piece by Drayton during a Christmas entertainment at the court of Elizabeth. There is no doubt that Robin and Uobin E-edbreast, used by our poet in his pastoral, were among the endearing names by which the Queen spoke of the Earl ; and the Camden Society, in the last volume of its Miscellanies, has printed a poem upon Essex in which both names are expressly assigned to him.' There is no doubt that the circumstances adverted to by Drayton apply particularly to the employments of the Earl at the period stated. The nine eclogues, as printed in 1593, attracted considerable notice ; and in the year after they were published the author was mentioned in company with no less names than those of Spenser, Sidney, and "Watson, and by a poet, himself of merit and reputation — E,ichard Barnfleld.^ His "Affectionate Shepherd" was published in 1594, although Ritson (Bibl. Angl. Poet. 124) by mistake gives it the date of 1596 : in it the author, reproaching Cupid, thus speaks ' Ancient Biographical Poems, p. 21. " Camden Miscellany," vol. III. We take this opportunity of correcting an error into which we have fallen in a note printed on page 190, where it is said that Barnfield's three poems, imputed to Shakespeare, were inserted in both editions of " Lady Pecunia," in 1598 and 1605. This is a mistake: the poems in question seem to have been purposely excluded in 1605. It is only since the note on page 190 was written that we have become acquainted with a fact, which we think makes clear Shakespeare's right to three poems, hitherto usually assigned to Barnfield. IXTaODTJCTION. XIX of the love sufferings of Colin, meaning Spenser, of Astrophel, meaning Sidney, of Amyntas, meaning Watson, and of Rowland, meaning Drayton, who had deplored his ill success with "Idea" in the year preceding. We do not recollect to have seen the pas- sage anywhere quoted, although it relates to four poets of such eminence : — By thee great CoUin lost his libertie, By thee sweet Astrophel forwent his joy ; By thee Amyntas wept incessantly, By thee good Eowland hv'd in great annoy. O cruell, peevish, vylde, blind-seeing Boy ! How can'st thou hit their harts, and yet not see. If thou be blinde as thou art faind to bee ? This passage proves the estimation in which Drayton, alias Rowland, was then held by competitors in verse ; but another division of " The Affectionate Shepheard " introduces us to another production by Drayton, which had then just appeared in print. Bamfield thus entitles the third portion of his own small volume : " The Complaint of Chastitie. Brief ely touching the cause of the death of Matilda Pitz-walters, an English Ladie, some time loved of King John, after poysoned. The storie is at large written by Michael Dreyton." This species of advertisement appeared, as has been stated, in 1591i ; and there is an edition of Drayton's " Matilda, the faire and chaste Daughter of the Lord Robert Pitzwater, the true glorie of the noble House of Sussex," which was " printed by James Roberts for N. L. and John Busby," in 1594. This impression was by no means what the author wished it; and, having " corrected and augmented " it in 1596, he again printed "Matilda" with "The Tragicall Legend of Robert Duke of Nor- mandy," which then appeared for the first time, and with "The Legend of Piers Gaveston," which had been first published in 1593, and, like " Matilda," had been amended and enlarged in 1596. d 2 XX INTRODUCTION. These " Legends," being too bulky to be included in the present volume, are reserved for a future occasion, but it wiU be fit, upon the present, to subjoin the general title-page of the three produc- tions as they came out in 1596, in 8vo. The Tragicall Legend of Robert, Duke of Normandy, surnamed Short-thigh, eldest Sonne to William Conqueror. With the Legend of Matilda the chast, daughter to the Lord Robert Fitzwater, poysoned by IQng John. And the Legend of Piers Gaueston, the great Earle of Cornwall, and mighty fauorite of King Edward the second. By Michaell Dray- ton. The latter two by him newly corrected and augmented. At London, Printed by la. Roberts, for N. L., aud are to be solde at his shop at the West doore of Paules. 159o. The whole Avork is dedicated " to the noble and excellent Lady, Lucie, Countesse of Bedford," in the following letter, which we insert here, a little out of its place, in reference to another work, by the same author, of which we shall have cause to speak presently. Most noble Ladie, I leaue my Poems as a monument of the zeale I beare to your vertues, though the greatest part of my labour be but the least part of my loue : and if any thought of worth liue in mee,' that onely hath been nourished by your mild fauours and former graces to my vnworthy selfe, and the admiration of your more then excellent parts shyning to the world. What nature and industry began, your honour and bountie hath thus farre continued. The hglit I haiie, is borrowed fro your beams, which Enuie shall not eclipse, so long as you shall fauourablie shine. Vnder the stampe of your glorious name my poems shall passe for currant, beeing not altogether vnworthy of so great a superscription. I liue onely dedicated to your seruice, and rest your Honor's humblie deuoted Michaell Drayton. This is followed by a sonnet to Lady Anne Harrington, the wife of Sir John Harrington, in which Drayton expresses his gratitude for kindness and bounty ; and by an address to the Reader, com- plaining of the gross mistakes and misprints in the first impression of ^ In the old copy it stands, "if any thought of worth love in mee," but it must cer- tainly be a misprint. INTRODUCTION. XXI " The Legend of Piers Gaveston," and stating, what could hardly be true, that " Matilda " had been " kept from printing, only because" the stationer "meant to join them together in one little volume." The fact, as has been shewn, was that " Matilda" had come from the press two years earlier, viz. in 1594, and it was then dedicated by Drayton himself to Lucy, the daughter of Sir John Harrington, with a prefatory note to the reader, informing him that the author had been " emboldened " to publish the work in consequence of the success of " The Legend of Piers Gaveston" in 1593. How these contradictions are to be reconciled we know not ; but it is not a point of much importance, and the real or supposed instrumen- tality of writers of that date, in bringing their labours before the public, is not unfrequently a matter of difi&cult decision. There is one point connected with Drayton's " Matilda " requiring special notice. The earliest impression, viz. that of 1594, contains the following stanza, which indisputably applies to Samuel Daniel's " Complaint of Rosamond," first printed in 1592 : — Paire Eosamond, of all so highly graced, Eecorded in the lasting booke of fame, And in our Sainted Legendarie placed By him who striues to stellifie her name ; Yet will some matrons say shee was to blame : Though all the world bewitched with his rime, Yet all his skill cannot excuse her crime. This praise of Daniel, with some slight variations, was repeated in the subsequent impressions of " Matilda." In the next stanza we find Shakespeare's "Lucrece," then just published, mentioned with similar honour : — Lucrece, of whom proud Kome hath boasted long. Lately reuiu'd to liue another age, And here arriu'd to tell of Tarquin's wrong. Her chast denial], and the tyrant's rage, Acting her passions on our stately stage ; Shee is remembred, all forgetting mee, Yet I as faire and chast as ere was shee. XXll IXTRODUCTIOK. Thence Di-ayton proceeds, in the next stanza, to praise the two poets who had written of Shore's wife and Elstred ; and the remarkable circumstance to be noted is that, although the tribute to Shake- speare was inserted in 1594, and reprinted in 1596, Drayton ever afterwards omitted it, though he as constantly repeated what he had said of Daniel, Churchyard, and Lodge. The question is, why Drayton excluded it ? but it is a question which we are not at all in a condition to answer ; and when this topic was formerly touched upon,' we were not aware that the reference to " Lucrece " in 1594 had been repeated in 1596 : we then thought, that the omission applied to the second, as well as to later impressions of " Matilda." We subjoin the entries in the Registers of the Stationers' Com- pany applicable to the Legends of " Gaveston " and " Robert Duke of Kormandy " : — 3 Dec. [1593.] Nichas Linge. John Busbie Entred for their Copie, &c. A booke entituled Pierse Gaviston, Erie of Cornewall, his life, deathe, and fortune. 21° die Novembris [1596]. Nicholas Lynge. Entred alsoe, &c. the tragicall legend of Eobert Duke of Normandye, Surnamed shortthighe, eldest sonne of Wil- liam the Conqueror. We have been able to find no similar memorandum relating to " Matilda," either in 1594, when it was first " printed by James Roberts for N. L. and John Busby," or in 1596, when, with the corresponding poems of " Gaveston " and " Robert Duke of Nor- mandy," it was printed by the same typographer for " N. L." alone. We may add, that " Gaveston" is separately inscribed, at the head of the legend, " To the worthie and honourable Gentleman, Ma. Henrie Cavendish, Esquire;" but none of these historical produc- ^ See Shakespeare, published by Whittaker &- Co., viii. 411, and "Notes and Emen- dations," p. 148. INTRODUCTION. XXIU tions furnish a single point to illustrate the private character or biography of their author. The performance standing third in onr volume is of such extreme rarity that only a single copy of it is to be found in England, although we are informed that a second is in Scotland (if so, it is among the books of Drummond of Hawthornden), and a third (merely a fragment) has found its way to America, where there still prevails such an earnest and laudable desire to possess ovir early literary curiosities. We have been indebted for the use of the sole English copy to J. Christie, Esq., who, for that purpose, kindly procured it from the Library, formerly belonging to W. H. Miller, Esq. It is a collection of fifty-one Sonnets (regular and irregular, but not one of them strictly according to the Italian method) con- tained in a small 4to volume, printed as usual for Nicholas Linge, or Ling, under the title of " Ideas Mirrovr : Amovrs in Qvatorzains." It was thus registered at Stationers' Hall : — 30° die May [1594]. ^NTicholas Linge. Entred for his Copie, under thandes of Mr. Cawood, a booke intituled Ideas Myrrour . . vj d. " Idea," the lady of Drayton's poetical passion, is again glorified in this production ; but, although he was apparently fond of the form, and perhaps of the confinement, of the Sonnet, although we have many such pieces in this volume (two being usually printed on each page), and although others were subsequently added, at different dates, under the general heading of "Idea," we cannot think that Drayton was very successful either in originality of thouo"ht, or in felicity of expression. The sonnet especially requires novelty of invention, and beauty of language. Drayton's style was forcible, but not finished; free, but not flowing; expressive, but not elegant; and, while he evidently plumes himself upon the hio-h-flown and high-wrought terms he applies to his real or imaginary mistress, they too frequently clothe the common-places of admiration and regard. XXIV IKTRODUCTION. We collect from the dedication in verse to Mr. Anthony Cooke (afterwards Sir .Anthony Cooke) that the Sonnets, or at least some of them, had been written a considerable time before they were published in 1594 : it begins — Vouclisafe to grace these rude unpolish'd rymes, Which long (dear friend) have slept in sable night. In several of the sonnets Drayton celebrates his native river, the Ankor, and devotes nearly the whole of the volume to the exalta- tion and worship of " Idea," under almost every form of poetical phraseology : it appears from one of the quatrains, that both her father and mother were dead :— ;• Thy mother dyd her lyfe to death resigne, And thou an Angel art, and from aboue ; Thy father was a man, that I will prone, Yet thou a goddess art, and so diuine. Elsewhere it is stated, as we have already shown, that " Idea" had a sister, but no allusion is made to her in this assemblage of sonnets. Drayton asserts his originality boldly in a line avoAvedly borrowed from Sir P. Sidney; but here and there it is indisputable that he had Watson's " Tears," Constable's " Diana," Daniel's "Delia," and Spenser's "Amoretti," (which he may have seen in manuscript) in his recollection. As Spenser termed his sonnets " Amoretti," ' from the Italian, Drayton took his title, " Amours,' from the Erench.^ ^ Spenser, in his Amoretti, 1595, uses the word Idea, as Drayton had done: — Within my hart, though hardly it can shew Thing so diuine to view of earthly eye, The faire Idea of your celestiall hew And euery part remaines immortally. — Sonnet xlv. We quote from Drayton's own copy of Spenser, in the edit, of 1611, with his autograph at the back of the title. ^ According to the Registers of the Stationers' Company Drayton had an imitator, as far as title is concerned, within a few years, for under date of 3 Jan. 1600-1 we read the subsequent entry: — INTRODUCTION. XXV The next work by the same author in the ensuing sheets was un- known to bibliographers, until some account of it was given ia the Catalogue of Books at Bridgwater House (pp. 108, 110) privately printed by the Earl of EUesmere. As it was thus entered in the registers at Stationers' Hall, it is surprising that the title never attracted observation : 12° ApriHs [1594]. Jolin Busbye. Entred for tis Copie, under the handes of the Wardens, A booke entituled Endimion and Phoebe . vj d. It is a 4to. of comparatively few pages, and is composed entirely in couplets, which, with some digressions, relate to the loves of the Moon with the shepherd Endymion, on Mount Latmus. By calling it, in its sub-title, " Idea's Latraus," Drayton still connects his effusion with the inspiration of the lady to whom he had long vowed his affections. One of the preliminary sonnets, subscribed S. Gr. (by a very remote possibility, Stephen Grosson) is also addressed "to Idea," in a strain that rivals the extravagant admiration of the writer of the body of the poem : another sonnet, with the initials E. P. attached to it, especially appeals to Drayton, under his pastoral appellation of Rowland, and applauds his poetry in a similar strain of hyperbole to that which S. G. had employed in praising the beauty of " Idea." The dedication by Drayton is to Lucy, Countess of Bedford, to whom Drayton states distinctly that he was under pecuniary obligations : — Unto thy fame my Muse herself shall taske, Which rain'st upon mee thy sweet golden showers. " Eleazar Edgar. Entred for his Copye, under the hands of the Wardens, a booke called Amours, by J. D., with certain son- nettes by W. S." It is not impossible that these sonnets by W. S. were Shakespeare's sonnets (not pub- lished till 1 610) ; that the initials J. D. were intended for M, D. ; and that " Amours " was a reprint of Drayton's "Ideas Mirrour," which was then to be coupled with some of Shakespeare's sonnets. e XXvi INTRODUCTION. In other respects we acquire nothing from this work to throw light upon Drayton's personal history. His contemporary Thomas Lodge alluded to " Endymion and Phoebe," as Drayton's production, in 1595, a circumstance ex- plained in our notes (pp. 236, 237), and several quotations were made from it in "England's Parnassus," 1600 ; but, as the produc- tion was not named in either case, nobody, until very recently, has been able to trace the extracts. Only two copies of " Endymion and Phoebe" have been brought to light, one formerly the property of Camden, and the other in the hands of the editor of the present volume : as Drayton never reprinted the piece, although he borrowed some small portions of it in his " Man in the Moon," published about ten years afterwards, we are glad to be the means of rescuing it from oblivion. Why its author, as it were, disowned his offspring by never reprinting it, quoting it by name, or even alluding to it, we can only surmise. Marlow's " Hero and Leander," and Shakespeare's "Venus and Adonis," were in some sort Drayton's models : the last had been published in 1593, and the first was widely circulated in MS. ; but we apprehend that some parts of " Endymion and Phoebe," of an abstruse and philo- sophical character, would puzzle and disappoint popular readers, and, doubtless, the general reception of it was not as flattering as the author desired, or at all to be compared with the popularity of " Venus and Adonis," which arrived at a second edition in 1594, and was priated for the third time in 1696. Erom beginning to end Drayton says nothing about himself, but not a few passages could be pointed out that do credit to his poetical powers, especially in description. Here and there we may be reminded of predeces- sors, but there is nothing to diminish our just admiration for the original character of Drayton's intellect : although written in the same form as Marlow's " Hero and Leander," it is in no other respect an imitation. It mnds up with a separate and formal appeal to " Idea," which is preceded by the most interesting portion INTRODUCTION. XXVll of the whole production, an address by Drayton to his fellow poets, and especially to Spenser, whom he approaches with becoming humility ; to Daniel, whom he not very aptly calls " the sweet Mus88us of these times ; " and to Lodge, by his pastoral and inverted name of Goldey. The last must have been older than Drayton, who willingly admits his obligations to Lodge for assisting his Muse by " imping her wings," at a time when she was scarcely able to fly. We have mentioned Drayton's dedication of " Endymion and Phoebe" to the Countess of Bedford: she was still the patroness whom he sought to propitiate when he published the longest, and, in some respects, the most important, production in our volume — " Mortimeriados. The lamentable Civil Wars of Edward the Second and the Barons." It bears date in 1596, and we have been the more desirous of inserting it, because at most only two copies of the first edition are extant ; one in the British Museum, and the other in the Bodleian Library. They differ in the imprint, the exemplar in the Bodleian being without a date, and purporting to have been printed for Humphrey Lownes, and not for Mathew Lownes. Nicholas Ling, who was the stationer interested in Dray- ton's " Ideas Mirror " and " Endymion and Phoebe," seems to have had no concern with " Mortimeriados." It was entered by Mathew Lownes at Stationers' Hall in the following terms, the clerk, naturally enough, not understanding the first word of the title : — 15 Aprilis [1596]. Mathew Lownes. Entred, &c. a booke called Mortimeri ados, the lament- able civill warres betwene Edward the Second and the Barons . . . . . . . . vj d. The copy in the British Museum, with the name of Mathew Lownes, wants a whole sheet in the middle of the poem, while that in the Bodleian is complete ; so that, in fact, only one perfect exemplar is known : both were printed from identical types, but e 2 XXVIU INTRODTJCTION. still with several slight variations, and one of some importance. The last line on p. 300 of our reprint is this : — Thus turn'st the wolves amongst the harmelesse sheep ; which stands as follows in the Oxford copy : — Thus turn'st the wolves amongst the carelesse sheep. There does not seem much choice between the epithets "harmless" and careless, as applied to sheep ; but Drayton must have seen reason to change the word in the press, and hence the difference. Other minor alterations are pointed out in our notes ; and we have made frequent quotations from later editions of the performance, as it was reprinted (first in 1603) under the new title of " The Barons Wars," in order to bring the author's latest improvements (though, perhaps, they cannot always with strict propriety be so called) under the eye of the reader. A most material and extensive change wlU be seen at once. The poem, when printed in 1596, was in seven -line stanzas ; but, in the interval between that year and 1603, Drayton altered the form to the Italian ottava rima, and it never agaiu appeared in its original state. On this account, mainly, we have preserved " Mortimeriados " as it was first written; and the unfortunate un-noted and irremediable deficiency in the Museum copy we have supplied from that m the Bodleian. The title-page in 1603 was made to run as follows, the author adding to that 8vo. volume the fifth impression of his " England's Heroical Epistles," which had first been printed in 1597, again in 1598, a third time in 1699, and a fourth in 1602, in the two last cases with a selection of sonnets under the title of " Idea :" — The Barrons' "Wars in the reign of Edward the second. With Englands Heroical Epistles. — By Michaell Drayton. — At London, Printed by I. E. for N. Ling. 1603. To this impression was prefixed an address to the reader, in which Drayton complained, with some petulancy, that certain INTHODUCTION. XXIX " grammaticasters " had found fault with his title of " Mortimer- iados," "as if it had been a sin against syntaxis to have subscribed it in the second case :" he did not admit the justice of the criticism, but " better advice" had caused him not merely to alter the title, but the whole of the poem, in the manner we have explained. The sonnets under the heading of " Idea " were first added in 1599, with the third impression of the " Heroical Epistles," and they were increased and altered from time to time, four new sonnets having been added in 1602 : of all it will be necessary to say more hereafter. There is another very noticeable difference between the " Mor- timeriados" of 1596, and " The Barons' Wars" of 1603. Not only was the dedication to the Countess of Bedford, in nine stanzas, entirely omitted, without any cause assigned, but various passages, in the progress of the history, in which Drayton's early patroness was addressed and extolled, were also materially changed or erased. The absence of these in the body of the poem we could easily account for and excuse, because they needlessly interrupted the narrative ; but it seems likely that Lady Bedford had seen reason to withdraw her encouragement of the poet before 1603, or he would hardly have ventured upon so bold a course towards one, who had given her countenance to so many versifiers, and who had been so repeatedly belauded for her bounty, beneficence, and all the other virtues usually attributed to persons of her rank. With reference to this point we may here direct attention to a very singular insertion in the second edition of Drayton's Pastorals, which we have quoted in our notes (p. 138), where Drayton speaks in the bitterest terms of a lady, whom he names Selena, and of the object of her patronage, whom he calls by the no very com- plimentary appellation of Cerberon. Whether it had any reference to the Countess of Bedford we know not, but the whole passage was dictated by a more rancorous spirit than we should have imputed to Drayton, and it was afterwards carefully suppressed. XXX INTEODTJCTION. Whether the Countess of Bedford had or had not deserted Drayton, it is certain that in 1603 he had obtained a new patron, viz., "the worthy, and his most honourable friend, Ma. Walter Aston," whom he addressed in the following sonnet : — I will not strive m' invention to inforce With needelesse words, your eyes to entertaine, T' observe the formall ordinarie course That everie one so vulgarly doth faine : Our interchanged and deliberate choice Is with more firme and true election sorted, Then stands in censure of the common voyce, 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 judgment will alow : So shall my love, and best endeavours serve you. And still shall studie still so to deserve you. Walter Aston became Sir Walter Aston, Knight of the Bath, on the coronation of James I., just after the second edition of " Mortimeriados," under the new title of " The Barons Wars," came out : consequently, when Drayton printed them again with other pieces, in 1605, he altered the style of address in his dedication, " To Sir Walter Aston, Knight of the honourable order of the Bath, and my most worthy Patron." Sir Walter Aston was of Tixall, Staffordshire ; and, if he were not a poet himself, he had a predilec- tion for poetry ; and the volume, published by Mr. Arthur Clifford in 1813, under the title of "Tixall Poetry," contains many pro- ductions, either collected or written by members of his family.' At his investiture, as knight of the Bath, Sir Walter Aston gave the most public countenance to Drayton by making him one of his ' One or more of these is by Sir Walter Raleigh, although the editor of " Tixall Poetry " does not seem to have been aware of the fact. INTEODTJCTION. XXXI esquires,' a title the poet ever afterwards rather ostentatiously placed upon his title-pages : for instance, when, two years after- wards, he published, in 8vo. " Poems, by Michaell Draiton, Esquire. London, printed for N. Ling, 1605," the word "Esquire" was made to occupy a line by itself. The earliest piece in this edition is "The Barons Wars," which, as in 1603, is introduced by two laudatory sonnets, one by Thomas Greene, the author of " A Poet's Vision and a Prince's Glory," 4to. 1603, already quoted, and the other by Sir John Beaumont, the elder brother of the dramatist, and author of " Bosworth Eield and other Poems," ^ of much merit, printed in 1629. The most popular work Drayton ever wrote is his " England's Heroical Epistles." The earliest impression of them was in 8vo., and, as we have stated, bears the date of 1597, the year after " Mortimeriados " was published. It consists of supposed letters, in couplets, to and from royal or eminent historical person- ages of both sexes, from the reign of Henry II. to that of Queen Mary. We quote the words of the title-page of the first edition, now before us, because it was long thought that it had not come out until 1598, the year mentioned by Bitson, Chalmers,' Lowndes, and other authorities : — Englands Heroicall Epistles. By Michaell Drayton. — At London, Printed by I. R. for N. Ling, and are to be sold at his shop at the "West doore of Poules. 1597." 8vo. It is strange that the impression of 1698 should ever have been considered the first, seeing that it has the words " newly enlarged " printed very obviously upon the title-page. The third edition, of ^ Vide Douglas's Peerage of Scotland by Wood, vol. i. p. 127. ^ Drayton has commendatory verses before Sir John Beaumont's Poems. = Chalmers commits a gross blunder when he states (English Poets, iv. 10) that the "Legend of Matilda" was one of Drayton's "Heroical Epistles:" he was, perhaps, misled by the headings of two of the letters, one being from King John to Matilda, and the other from Matilda to King John. XXXU INTBODUCTION. 1699, has the same information, with the addition of a notice that sonnets, under the general heading of " Idea," were also included. The work was thus in its most complete state, consisting of twenty -four epistles, so that, when it was again reprinted in 1602, instead of the title-page stating that the collection had been " newly enlarged, with Idea," the words are " newly corrected, with Idea." Thus, in four years, so popular was the work, it went through four distinct impressions. The original entry in the registers of the Stationers' Company was made by Ling, on 12° Octobris [1597]. Nicholas Linge. Entred for his copie, under thandes of Mr. Jackson and Mr. Man, a booke entituled England Heroical Epistles by Michaell Drayton. . . . . . . vj d. This is the first time that the name of our author appeared in any entry regarding his productions. Each pair of epistles (with the exception, in some impressions, of King John to Matilda, and MatUda to King John,) has a separate dedication ; and here, for the last time, we meet with the name of Lucy Countess of Bedford, to whom the epistles of E-osamond to Henry II. and of that King to Rosamond are addressed : the poet tells her ladyship, " I strive not to affect singularity, yet would fain fly imitation, and prostrate mine own wants to other men's per- fections." It is but justice to admit, that no work of this description had before appeared in our language; but, of course, Drayton must throughout have had in his mind the example of Ovid. The epistles of Queen Isabel to Richard II., and of Richard II. to his Queen, are inscribed to the Earl of Bedford, husband of the Countess: this dedication, inasmuch as it is biographical in its character, it will be proper to quote : — To the right honourable and my very good Lord, Edward Earl of Bedford. Thrice noble and my gracious Lord, the love I have ever borne to the illustrious house of Bedford, and to the honorable family of the Harringtons, to the which by INTRODUCTION. XXXlll marriage your Lordship is happily united, hath long since devoted my true and zealous affection to your honorable service, and my poems to the protection of my noble Lady, your Cotmtess ; to whose service I was first bequeathed by that learned and accomplished gentleman, Sir Plenry Goodere (not long since deceased), whose I was whilst he was, whose patience pleased to bear with the imperfections of my heedless and unstaid youth. That excellent and matchless Gentleman was the first cherisher of my Muse, which had been by his death left a poor Orphan to the world, had he not before bequeathed it to that Lady whom he so dearly loved. Vouchsafe, then, my dear Lord, to accept this Epistle, which I dedicate as zealously, as (1 hope) you will patronize willingly, until some more acceptable service may be witness of my love to your honour. Your Lordships ever, MiCHAELL Drayton. In 1597, when this letter was written, the poet was thirty-four years old, and he speaks of his " heedless and unstayed youth" in terms that, in some degree, accord with the lamentations of his friend Wynken, in the passage we have already quoted from the second impression of Drayton's Pastorals. We have not before heard of Sir Henry Goodere as " the first cherisher " of Drayton's Muse, nor indeed as in any way interested in his success ; but we are bound to take the poet's word upon the subject, and to conclude that Sir Henry had been of essential service to him in the commence- ment of his career.' Sir Henry Goodere, the elder, was dead at this period ; but Drayton dedicated to his son the Epistle of Mary, the Prench Queen, to Charles Brandon, and its answer, and there he admits his obligation to" the Gooderes " for the most part of his education." It is certainly possible, therefore, that Drayton was ^ At the same time, we cling to the notion that the household in which Drayton was page was that of Walter Earl of Essex. His earliest production is dedicated, as already stated, to Lady Jane Devereux of Merivale : this property had been a Cistercian monastery until the dissolution of religious houses, when it was given to Viscount Hereford: it descended to his son, who sold it to his brother, and Lady Jane (or Joan) Devereux was the widow of Sir William Devereux, and therefore aunt to the young Earl of Essex at the death of his father in 1576. See Dugdale's Warwickshire, edit. 1730, p. 1087. / XXXIV INTRODUCTION. originally a page in the household of Sir Henry Goodere at Powles- worth, and that there he was initiated in poetry by the resident tutor. In the dedication of the last two epistles in the volume to Lady Frances Goodere, we meet with some confirmation of the statement, that early in life Drayton had been upon terms of inti- macy with the younger branches. Two of the inscriptions of " Heroical Epistles" are to persons of wealth and station in the city. Sir John Swinnerton, Alderman, and to " Maister James Huish," who afterwards became Lord Mayor. Every Epistle is illustrated by legendary and historical notes, of no small value in themselves, and very necessary to the due understanding of various passages. What were Drayton's pecuniary circumstances at this, or indeed at any other, period, we have no information ; but we never find him, like some of his brethren, peevishly complaining of poverty, and consequent deprivation. "We take it that he remained single, and that he had therefore no family calls upon his purse. As far as we can judge, the general simplicity of his life and manners would render him less liable to expense; and at one time, as we have seen, he acknowledges to have received " golden showers " from Lady Bedford : perhaps his other patrons, such as Sir Henry Goodere and Sir Walter Aston, aided him in cases of difficulty. He most likely ceased to receive anything from Lady Bedford about 1598 ; and it is in 1598-9 that we meet with Drayton's name in Henslowe's Theatrical Diary as one 'of the play-wrights in his employ. It is very probable that he may have been led, by the want of pecuniary resources just at this time, to turn his atten- tion to the profitable employment of his pen on the drama; and in January, 1598-9, Henslowe (or rather Drayton himself, for the memorandum is in his autograph) records that he had paid forty shillings on account of a play called " William Longsword," which was then nearly finished. The entry in Henslowe's Diary is in these terms : — INTBODUCTION. XXXV I receved forty shillinges of Mr. Philip Hinslowe, in part of . vju for the play of Will m Longsword, to be delivered pre- S xxxxs. sent[ly] with[in] 2 or three dayes, the xxj"" of January, 1598 / MiC. Deayton.i The price of the play, when finished, was to be six pounds ; but we may infer from the above, that Drayton's wants were so pressing that he could not wait even two or three days till the play was finished, but was obliged (as was not unusual with other poets in Henslowe's service) to resort to the old manager for an advance upon account. On the very day preceding, as appears by another item in the same diary, Drayton had received three pounds from Thomas Dowton or Downton (one of Henslowe's leading performers) upon the strength of the same drama, although the scribe made a blunder in calling it William Longbeard, instead of William Longsword. On the 8th July, 1599, Drayton's signature appears as a witness to a loan of five shillings from Henslowe to one John Palmer, who had lost it gambling at Court.^ The historical play of "William Longsword," which never was printed, may have been written by Drayton alone ; at least, no other dramatist is mentioned as having had any share in its authorship. The next time his name is introduced in the same old theatrical register, it is in reference to a drama, also founded upon English history, which has come down to us, but, as before remarked, in a condition of abridgement and imperfection which can do little credit to those who penned it. Drayton appears to have had no fewer than three coadjutors in it, viz. Anthony Munday, Robert Wilson, and Richard Hathway, and it was called " The first part of the life of Sir John Oldcastle :" on the 16th October, 1599, the four drama- tists named were paid ten pounds for it, and in earnest of another play, on the same subject, to be called " The second part of Sir John ' See Henslowe's Diary, printed by the Shakespeare Society in 1845, pp. 95, 142. 2 Ibid. p. 96. /2 XXXVl INTEODtJCTION. Oldcastle." Possibly Drayton had no assistants in the second part, and his name only is mentioned in the receipt for four pounds for the play, which, as nothing is said to the contrary, we may presume was completed in December 1599, but the day of the month is not furnished.' There is this curious, but well-known, circumstance with reference to the first part of the Life of Sir John Oldcastle,— that on the title- pages of some of the printed copies, as already stated, the name of Shakespeare is given as that of the author, and on this account, no doubt, it found its way into the third folio of Shakespeare's works in 1664. However, other copies are without his name, or that of any contemporary, and it is on the authority of Henslowe's Diary that we now know it to have been the composition (in what proportions cannot be ascertained) of Drayton, Munday, Wilson, and Hathway. " The second part of Sir John Oldcastle," which was perhaps by Drayton alone, has never been printed. Owen Tudor (or, as it is misspelled in the entry, Owen Teder) was another historical character adopted by Drayton for the hero of a play : here again he was aided by Munday, Wilson, and Hathway, and we gather from Henslowe's Diary (the only source of our know- ledge regarding Owen Tudor ^) that, whenever a play was wanted by the company in especial haste, several dramatists were immediately set to work upon the same subject. In January 1599 the four poets last named were paid four pounds "in earnest" of " Owen Tudor." On the 14th June, 1600, Drayton was engaged with Thomas Dekker, Munday, and Hathway, in writing a play called " Pair Constance of Rome," for which, in two payments, they appear to have received only five pounds nine shillings ; but perhaps other moneys had been advanced which are not stated in Henslowe's Diary .^ Other productions of the same kind have been ascribed to Drayton either in whole or in part, but of most of them we have merely ^ Henslowe's Diary, p. 162. ' Ibid. p. 168. 3 Ibid. p. 171. INTRODUCTION. XXXVii the names, and those often imperfectly recorded ; but his connexion with a theatre (and he seems only to have written for the company under Henslowe, and his son-in-law Edward Alleyn,) ceased soon after 1600 : we do not believe that it continued to the death of Elizabeth. When James I. came to the throne a brighter prospect seemed to open upon our poet ; but the sunshine was soon overclouded. At this period Drayton's reputation as a poet had long been established : in 1596 EitzgefPrey, in his poem on Sir Erancis Drake, had styled Drayton " golden-mouthed" in a stanza, afterwards referred to with applause by two other contemporaries, and which we quote, chiefly because it mentions our poet in excellent society : — Spenser, whose hart inharbours Homer's soule, If Samian axioms be authenticall ; Daniel, who well may Maro's text controule, With proud plus ultra, true note marginall ; And golden-mouthed Drayton musicall, Into whose soule sweet Sidney did infuse The essence of his Phoenix-feather 'd Muse."' The two contemporaries, who refer with approbation to this ap- plause of Drayton by Eitzgeffrey, are Erancis Meres, in prose, in his Palladis Tamia, and Edward Guilpin, in verse, in his Skialetheia, both which works came out in 1598. The former mentions Drayton several times, in allusion to his "Barons' "Wars," to his "England's Heroicall Epistles," and other productions ; but adverting to the epithet " golden-mouthed " Meres observes. As Sophocles was called a bee for the sweetnes of his tongue, so, in Charles Pitz- Jefferies Drake, Drayton is termed golden-mouth' d for the purity and pretiousnesse of his stile and phrase." — fo. 281. • At a later date, 1600, the same author printed a Latin epigram in praise of Drayton, in his little volume entitled Affanix. XXXVill INTKODTJCTION. Guilpin first notices the charge of imitation by some brought against Drayton, which he does not altogether deny, and in the last line repeats the favourite and, as he maintains, well-merited epithet : his lines are these ; and, on account of the extreme scarcity of the book, as far as we know, they have never been yet quoted. Drayton's condemn'd of some for imitation, But others say, 'twas the best poets' fashion. In spight of sicke Opinion's crooked doome, Traytor to kingdoms mind, true judgment's toomb. Like to a worthy Komaine, he hath wonne A three-fold name affined to the sunne When he is mounted in the glorious South ; And Drayton's justly sirnam'd golden-mouth. — Satire VI. The poets of that day seem to have emulated each other, not so much in striving to monopolise praise as to distribute it, and rivalled each other in generosity quite as much as in genius — a spirit worthy of the possessors of true inspiration. The same year that produced the tributes to Drayton by Meres and Guilpin, 1598,' brought out the following from Richard Barnfield (of whom we have before spoken), which begins with the praise of Spenser, pro- ceeds to that of Daniel, applauds Drayton, and finally bestows a warm eulogium upon Shakespeare. Live, Spenser, ever in thy Fairy Queene, Whose Hke, for deepe conceit, was never seene : Crownd mayst thou bee, unto thy more renowns, As King of Poets, with a Lawrell Crowne. ' About the same period, certainly before the demise of EUzabeth, appeared the notice of Drayton in the anonymous play " The Eeturn from Parnassus " : — " Drayton's sweet muse is of a sanguine dye, Able to ravish the rash gazer's eye." This species of criticism somewhat reminds us of the opinion of the bUnd man, that scarlet was like the sound of a trumpet. Why " Drayton's swset muse " should be likened to any colour at all, or to " a sanguine dye " in particular, rather than to any other rich and striking hue, is not very obvious. INTRODUCTION. XXXIX And Daniell, praised for thysweet-chast verse, Whose fame is grav'd on Eosamond's blacke herse, Still mayst thou live ; and well be honored For that rare worke, The White Rose and the Eed. And Drayton, whose wel-written Tragedies, And sweete Epistles soare thy fame to sties, Thy learned name is tequaU with the rest. Whose stately numbers are so well addrest. And Shakespeare, thou, whose hony-flowing vaine. Pleasing the world, thy praises doth containe ; Whose Venus and whose Lucrece (sweete and chaste) Thy name in Fame's immortall Booke have plac't. Live ever you, at least in Fame live ever: Well may the bodye dye, but Fame die never.' Encomion of Lady Pecunia. 1598, Sign. E. 2 b. A testimony of a difFerent kind, and more unequivocal as regards Drayton's popularity, is derived from a diiferent source. In 1600 " England's Parnassus, or the Choysest Flowers of our Moderne Poets " was published : it consists of quotations from aU the most distinguished versifiers between the time of the Earl of Surrey and the closing years of the reign of Elizabeth ; and por- tions from Drayton's productions occur in it more than 150 times : Spenser is the only author who supplies a larger number of extracts. This collection was made, as is well known, by Robert Allot, who inscribes it to Sir Thomas Mounson, to whom Drayton had pre- viously dedicated two of his " Heroicall Epistles." What is most to be lamented in this book, and in the reprint of it in 1815, is that nobody attempted to place against the names of the poets the pro- ductions from which the quotations were taken. Drayton wrote nothing (or if he wrote anything it has not sur- vived) on the death of Elizabeth ; and, seeing that he was so eager to congratulate James on his accession, it is not surprising that his pre- decessor on the throne should have been somewhat disregarded. The new kiag had not reached his metropolis before the ready pen of Drayton had prepared, and perhaps printed, " a Gratulatory Xl INTRODUCTION. Poem " addressed " To the Majestie of King James," which was accompanied by an engraved plate, shewing the genealogy and title of the Stuarts to the crown of these realms. The author seems to have been utterly disappointed as to the effect of this loyal and laudatory effusion. He had presented himself to the notice of the king, some years before the death of Elizabeth, in a fine sonnet which we have inserted on page 468 ; but neither that, nor his subsequent effort to attract the royal attention, seems to have suc- ceeded. In the next year, 1604, he penned " A Pcean Triumphall : composed for the Societie of the Goldsmiths of London, congratu- lating his Highness magnificent entering the Citie ;" but still in vain ; and in an epistle which he wrote some years afterwards (it was not published until 1627) to the translator of Ovid, and Treasurer for the English Colony in Virginia, George Sandys, Drayton thus gave vent to his vexation : — I scarce dare praise a vertuous friend that's dead, Lest for my lines he should be censured. It was my hap, before aU other men. To suffer shipwrack by my forward pen When King James ent'red; at which joyfuU time I taught his title to this He in rime, And to my part did all the Muses win With high-pitch Pceans to applaud him in. When cowardise had tyed up every 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 jot I spar'd. Yet had not my cleere spirit, in Fortune's scorne, Me above earth and her afflictions borne, 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. This very remarkable passage has not been passed over without INTRODUCTION, xli observation, and in the preface to his Polyolbion he refers again to the dangers he had incurred ; but, in 1604, he wrote an entire poem to obtain room for the expression of his discontent : it was called "The Owl," and he represents learning and literature, under the symbol of the Athenian bird, assailed by all the smaller fowls of the air, but protected by the royal eagle, by whom the poet certainly meant king James, in spite of the neglect he fancied he had experienced. So keenly did he feel upon that subject, that he never, in any collection of his productions, reprinted either the " Gratulatory Poem" or the " Poean Triumphal :" on the other hand his " Owl " always kept its place, although far from a successful imitation of Spenser's " Mother Hubbard's Tale." Nothing can be more absurd than the way in which Drayton sometimes confounds the figurative with the real : thus, he draws the character of a rich greedy courtier under the semblance of a vulture, yet, almost in the next line, he tells us that this vulture, "with bloody talons," resided in "a chamber very richly dight." There is one passage which almost makes it appear that the author (like Ben Jonson, at a subsequent date, when he and Drummond discussed the merits of Drayton and other poets') had visited Scotland, but had returned unregarded and unrewarded : Weary at length, and trusting to my worth, I tooke my flight unto the happie North, Where, nobly bred as I was well ally'd, I hop'd to have my fortune there supply'd ; But there arryv'd, disgrace was all my gayne, Experience scorn'd of every scurvye swayne. Other had got for which I long did serve, Still fed with wordes, whilst I with wants did sterve — Sign. E. 3. Hence, perhaps, the improbable story, told by some of Drayton's biographers, that he had been employed as a confidential agent between Queen Elizabeth and the young King of Scotland.^ Much ^ In 1619. See Ben Jonson's Conversations with Drummond of Hawthornden (edited by D. Laing, and printed by the Shakespeare Society in 1842), pp. 2, 10, 15. ^ Life of Drayton, in Chalmers's British Poets, iv. ix. 9 xlii INTRODUCTION. of the allegory of " The Owl " is now unintelligible ; but the author is careful to inform the reader that the poem was finished before his two pieces upon the accession of the king : perhaps we are bound to take his word upon such a point ; but the whole reads like the overflowing of a dissatisfied mind, and we have shown that the author was a man who, having laid himself out for reward from James, had obtained nothing. With reference to what is said here- after, it is necessary to state that "The Owl" is dedicated in a sonnet to Sir Walter Aston. We apprehend that it was at this period, and in this state of irritation, that Drayton set about preparing a new edition of his " Idea. The Shepherd's Garland." It is impossible to settle with precision the date of the second impression, because there is none upon the title-page, and the book was not entered at Stationers' Hall. Our distinct opinion is that it was never, in the ordinary sense of the word, published at all, but that Drayton prepared it, had it set up in type, and then for some reason recalled it. Possibly he repented of the offensive additions he had made to the Eclogues, as well as, perhaps, of some of the new poems he had in- serted, and therefore withdrew it. We believe that only one perfect copy of " Poemes Lyrick and Pastorall" (see page 377 of our reprint) is known ; but two imperfect copies exist at Oxford, and in private hands, the last having been sold at the late Mr. Heber's sale. The sole perfect copy has been most liberally and kindly lent by Bolton Corney, Esq., for the purpose of this volume ; and there is this remarkable feature about it, — that a few of the leaves must have been cancelled (for no perceivable reason) and others substituted, but the original leaves and the cancels have both been preserved. It Was printed, as the title-page shows, for N. L. (i.e. Nicholas Ling) and J. Elasket (a new bookseller or stationer as regards Drayton) by R. B., the initials of a typographer not before employed, and he executed his work in a very slovenly manner, often utterly disregarding all use of capitals. The cancels mark little more than some INTRODUCTION. xliii variations of orthography, but where they are of the smallest im- portance we have pointed them oiit in our notes. It will be the less necessary here to go at large into the important differences between the Eclogues as they appeared in 1593, and as they were reprinted (not republished, if our notion be correct,) more than ten years afterwards, because the notes we have appended to our reprint of the original impression give them in considerable detail. They show what Drayton added, about the year 1604 or 1605, (when we suppose the second edition to have been prepared and printed,) and what he subsequently expunged, before he repeated the Pastorals in the folio of his works in 1619. The changes are in some cases so many and so remarkable, that we long hesitated whether it would not be fit to reprint the whole of the second edition, as well as the first. However, we apprehend that our notes will supply all that is material, with one exception. We have already stated that Drayton about 1604 or 1605 added an entirely new Eclogue to the niae of which the work consisted in 1593 : he places it ninth in the second edition, and this we have not failed to insert, in order to render the whole series of Pastorals complete. The title-page of " Poemes Lyrick and Pastorall," besides eclogues, mentions what the author, employing a word then unusual in our language, terms " Odes," being brief lyrical productions, the design and character of which he describes in a preliminary address "to the Beader." They are of various kinds, and of various degrees of merit; and two of them, one being "to his friend Master John Savage," and the other, beginning, " Sing we the Rose," Drayton never reprinted. Thus, if we had not rescued them, they might have been utterly lost, and they are indisputably two of the best in the whole assemblage. The Ode to John Savage is a manly, independent, terse and forcible composition ; and that celebrating the rose is one of the most cheerful and graceful pieces its author ever produced. In the origiaal undated edition these odes are only twelve in number, but we have added to them others, obtained from the folio of 1619, xliv INTRODUCTION. some of which must have been written as early as the commence- ment of the reign of James I. We should not, we hope, have been held excused if we had omitted the "Hymn to Coventry," the birth-place of Drayton's " Idea," naming, as it does, the very street in which she was born, and the day of her birth. "The Man in the Moon," also mentioned on the title-page of " Poemes Lyrick and Pastorall," we have not thought it ex- pedient to reprint, since it is little more than a rifacwnento, with additions, of " Endymion and Phoebe," which comes earlier in our volume. " The Man in the Moon " is to be seen in every im- pression of Drayton's poems after its first appearance, and we have explained in our notes in what respects, and where, it is unlike what went before it. There is one point yet to be touched in reference to " Poemes Lyrick and Pastorall." The volume is dedicated "to the deserving memory of my most esteemed patron and friend. Sir Walter Aston," as if he were dead and Drayton were paying a tribute to his ashes. The fact, hoAvever, is that Sir Walter was still living and flourishing : he was created a baronet in 1611, and a peer of Scotland, by the title of Baron Porfar, in 1627, and died, after having been twice ambassador to Spain, in 1639. Therefore, perhaps Drayton meant to refer to his own grateful recollection of the favour of Sir Walter Aston, who possibly was afterwards the means of introducing him to Prince Henry. On the other hand, the terms may bear another, and a less favourable construe, tion. We have seen Drayton losing the favour of Lady Bedford in 1598; and we may suspect that Sir Walter Aston, after 1604, had declined, for some unexplained cause, to give farther public countenance to our poet. Sir Walter was a favourite at Court, and an expectant of its honours, while Drayton was avowedly in disgrace : it is therefore not out of the question to imagine, that the couplet already quoted, " He, next my God, on whom I btiilt my trust. Had left me trodden Jower than the dust," INTROIJUCTION. xlv was meant to apply to Sir Walter Aston ; and in that case, Dray- ton's dedication to " the memory" of that gentleman may have been intended as a species of reproof for the withdrawal of assistance formerly afforded. All is necessarily conjecture. To Prince Henry, although then dead, Drayton dedicated his " Polyolbion," the first portion of which came out in 1613, and the second in 1622. With Joshua Sylvester, he had been placed upon the household establishment of the Prince of Wales, and was allowed a pension of 10^. a-year, equal to about 501. of our present money.' He now wrote another Legend, in the Italian octave stanza, to accompany those of " MatUda," " Gaveston," and " Robert Duke of Normandy :" he called it " The Legend of Great Cromwel," meaning the Earl of Essex, who lost his head late in the reign of Henry VIII., after having been the King's tool in the suppression of religious houses. It was printed for I. Elasket, the stationer, in 1607, and N. Ling is no longer mentioned. Drayton again dedicated it "to the deserving memory of his worthy patron" (omitting the word "friend") Sir Walter Aston, and it is introduced by three short pieces in verse, signed I. Cooke, probably the author of a comedy called "Greene's Tu Quoque;" Henry Lucas, to whom Drayton had dedicated the epistle of the Earl of Surrey, and the reply to it ; and Christopher Brooke, the author of several pastoral and other poems, who afterwards, in spite of his early propensity to verse, became a lawyer of considerable eminence. As might be expected, " The Legend of Great Cromwel," relating as it does to a person who had not been dead much above half-a-century, is more historically laboured than any of Drayton's other productions of the same class. It came to a second edition in 1609, The "Poems by Michael Drayton," first printed under that title in 1605, were reprinted in 1607, 1608, 1610, and 1613, so that ^ Extracts from the Accounts of Eevels at Court, by Peter Cunningham, Esq. printed for the Shakespeare Society in 1842. Introd. p. xvii. xlvi INTRODUCTION. there can be no doubt of their popularity: in the last, Selden's sonnet, which will be found on p. 376 of our volume, is merely headed " Michael !" showing the sort of terms our poet was upon with, probably, the most learned English scholar of that age. To prove how little even a man like Malone knew regarding Drayton and his works, we may cite the following note in his hand- writing in his copy of the edition of 1618 : — " The Heroical Epistles were begun in 1598, and Meres had seen some of them ; but this is the first edition. ' Idea' {i. e. Eclogues) was printed in 1693, and entered on the Stationers' books in the preceding year." Every statement here made, as the reader will be aware, is a mistake, excepting the mere fact tha^J; " Idea. The Shepherd's Garland," was printed in 1593. "England's Heroicall Epistles" were not "begun in 1598," because they were actually printed in 1597; and, instead of the edition of 1613 being " the first," it was probably the ninth or tenth. The last " enlarged " edition was that of 1599, as we have already explained, and there the Epistle of Lord Guildford Dudley to Lady Jane Grey is altered at the end, but the difference is of comparatively small moment. Drayton published nothing new between his " Legend of Great Cromwell," in 1607, and the appearance of the first part of his " Polyolbion, or a Chorographical Description of Great Britain," in 1613. It then consisted of eighteen songs, and the conclusion of the work, consisting of twelve songs, did not come out till nine years afterwards. The earliest portion was, as we have stated, dedicated to the Prince of "Wales, who had died on 6 Nov. 1612, and it has his portrait, armed with a spear, near the com- mencement. At this date Drayton was one of the pensioners of Henry, but, as far as we now know, he lost his allowance at the Prince's premature decease. Selden was the author of the notes and illustrations to " Polyolbion," and he dates his introduction of them " from the Inner Temple, 9 May, 1612." It is impossible not to admire the spirit, energy, and patriotism INTRODUCTION. xlvii breathing in every line of our poet's twelfth Ode (as printed about 1604 or 1605) on the battle of Agincourt (see p. 403) : the author him- self calls it " a ballad ;" and in truth it is nothing more, although it has all the best qualities belonging to pieces of that class. It seems to have been greatly applauded ; and perhaps the success of this short commemoration of so glorious an event induced Drayton ultimately to take up the subject for a separate and much longer poem. He again chose the form of the octave stanza, and he has employed it with his wonted command of the resources of our language. It was printed in a small folio, in 1627, under the subsequent title, " The Battaile of Agincourt. Pought by Henry the fift of that name. King of England, against the whole power of the French, under the Raigne of their Charles the sixt. Anno Dom. 1415." It was accompanied by other pieces, specified on the title- page, viz.: "The Miseries of Queene Margarite," in the same measure ; " Nimphidia, the Court of Eayrie," in eight-line stanzas, of short and sprightly construction; "The Quest of Cinthia," in four- line ballad verses, rhyming alternately; "The Shepheard's Sirena," a species of pastoral in a similar form: and "The Moone-calfe," a sort of burlesque satire, in couplets.' To these are added twelve " Elegies," as the author terms them, but several of them better meriting the title of Epistles, the most memorable being that to Henry Heynolds, in which the author briefly criticises and comments upon his poetical predecessors and contemporaries. His notice of Shakespeare, who had been dead eleven years before this production was printed, has often been quoted, and it hardly breathes that free, warm, and generous spirit of admiration, which Shakespeare assuredly would have evinced, had ' Drayton dedicates the whole to the "noblest gentlemen of England;" but he seems to have given away copies with particular inscriptions : the following words are in his hand-writing upon one of them — " To the noble Knight, my most honoured frend, Sir Henry Willoughby, one of the selected patrons of these ray latest poems, from his servant Mi: Drayton." This copy belonged to the late Mr. Bindley. xlviii INTRODUCTION. he been called upon to write of Drayton. Several circumstances tend to show that Drayton was not always upon the best terms with divers of his fellow poets, and we suspect that Shakespeare, as already hinted, had in some way, and at an early date, displeased him. If Shakespeare had been living in 1619, when Drayton republished his " Barons' Wars " with his last emendations, he might (had he thought it worth while) have complained of Drayton for borrowing, without acknowledgment, the character of Brutus, as described by Antony in Act V. sc. 5, of " Julius Csesar," and applying it to Mortimer. This is a circumstance upon which it is not requisite to dwell here, and it is fully developed in the Introduc- tion to "Julius Csesar," as printed in 1843.' Drayton's last work proves that his fancy was as free, and his versification as varied and musical, as it had been at any former period of his life. It was published in 1630, 4to. under the title of " The Muses Elyzium, lately discovered by a new way over Parnassus." To this he added three other productions on sacred history — "Moses, his Birth and Miracles," "Noah's Plood," and " David and Goliah." ^ We have already, more than once, spoken of Drayton's Sonnets. His first essay in this narrow, but highly cultivated district of poetry was made, as already explained, in 1594. Some of these productions were subsequently suppressed ; but, in 1599, he appended such as he valued (with others subsequently written) to the third impression of his " England's Heroicall Epistles." They were repeated, from time to time, in the various reprints of Drayton's Poems, with or without additions, and sometimes with abstractions, being always placed under the heading of " Idea." That title we have preserved towards the conclusion of our volume, and under it we have arranged such sonnets as Drayton printed in 1619, and were not included in ^ See Shakespeare's Works, 8 vols. 8vo., published by Whittaker & Co. vol. vii. p. 3. ^ " Moses, his Birth and Miracles," had been first printed in 1604, under the title of " Moyses, in a Map of his Miracles." The other two were nevir sacred subjects. INTRODUCTION. xlix " Ideas Mirrour." We have thus reprinted all the poems of this class our author left behind him, excepting some few scattered pieces which he wrote for friends, and in laudation of their performances. The latest production, bearing the name of Drayton, is inserted in the " Annalia Dubrensia," on the celebration of the Cotswold Games ; but this tract was not published until 1636, so that our poet, who with others had contributed to it, was then dead. He expired on 23rd December, 1631, being then sixty-eight years old, but of what disorder we have no means of knowins. Dr. John Hall, the son-in-law of Shakespeare, records, in his " Select Observations on English Bodies," without giving the date, that he had once cured Drayton, whom he calls " an excellent poet," of a " tertian "; but this was, no doubt, on one of our author's visits to his native county.' Dr. Hall outlived his patient by four years ; but, as he resided chiefly in Warwickshire, it is not likely that he attended the poet in London during his last Ulness. Drayton was buried in Westminster Abbey, and a monument to his memory, surmounted by his bust, was erected by the Countess of Dorset. Drayton, in the Dedication to the EarP of his "Muses Elysium," 1630, speaks as if he were then residing in his Lordship's family, and formed a part of it : — " I have ever (says he) found that con- stancy in your favours, since your first acknowledging of me, that their durableness has now made me one of your family, and I am become [so] happy in the title to be called yours, that, for retri- bution, could I have found a fitter way to publish your bounties, my thankfulness before this might have found it out." We may therefore enjoy the satisfaction of believing that Drayton, at his death, was in circumstances of ease and comfort, though, no ^ Dr. Hall wrote in Latin, but the work was translated by James Cook, and published in 12mo. 1657: the mention of Drayton occurs on page 26. ^ Edward Sackville, Earl of Dorset, was grandson to Thomas Sackville, the first Earl of that family, author of the Induction to " The Mirror for Magistrates," and joint author, with Thomas Norton, of the tragedy of " Gorboduc,'' acted at Wliitehall in 1561. h INTRODUCTION. doubt, of dependency ; and the tact, that his monument was erected by his noble mistress, may be taken to prove that his genius and talents had been properly estimated by her and her husband.' The tablet was inscribed with the following lines by Ben Jonson,^ to ' It appears, by a note of Warton's, in his " Observations on Spenser's Faery Queen," that Drayton was not buried in the south aisle of Westminster Abbey, near his monu- ment and that of Spenser, but " under the north wall, near a little door which opens to one of the prebendal houses." Warton cites Heylin, who was at the funeral, and who mentions the fact in his " Appeal of Inj. Innocence," p. 42, part ii. subjoined to Fuller's Church Hist. edit. 1655. "We may add to this note the words of Burton and Dugdale regarding Drayton and his birth-place: Burton (Descr. of Leicestershire, n. d. but 1622) says, speaking of the town of Drayton, " This place gave the name to the progeni- tors of that ingenious poet, Michael Drayton, Esquire, my neere Countiiinan and olde acquaintance; who, though those Transalpines account us Tramontani rude and bar- barous, holding our braines so frozen, dull, and barren, that they can alFoord no invention or conceits, yet may compare either with their olde Dante, Petrarch, or Boccace, or their neotericke Marinella, Pignatello, or Stigliano: but why should I goe about to commend him, whose owne workes and worthinesse have sufficiently extold to the Avorld ?" Dugdale, under Atherston, says : " And farther of this town I have not to say, but that it gave birth to one of our late famous poets, soil. MichaeU Draiton, who 1 leing one of the Esquires that attended Sir Walter Aston, of Tixhall in com. Staff. Kt., when he was made Knight of the Bath at the coronation of K. James, lieth buried in the South cross Isle of "Westminster Abby." ^ There is a remarkable passage in Ben Jonson's Conversations with Drummond, where the former told the latter that " Drayton feared him, and he esteemed not of him," meaning, not that Jonson did not esteem Drayton as a poet, but that he did not care for the consequences of Drayton's fear of him. Therefore, in 1619, they were perhaps not friends, and Jonson commences his Vision with two lines confirming this opinion : It hath been questioned, Michael, if I be A friend at all ; or, if at all, to thee. This was printed by Drayton in 1627, and then it is clear that, if they had ever differed, they had been reconciled. Drayton survived four years, and we may feel confident that, during that period, the two poets (who had much in common) were upon friendly terms. In tlie Rev. John Ward's Diary (p. 183), there is a story that Drayton and Jonson had " a merry meeting " with Shakespeare shortly before his death ;" that they INTRODUCTION. li which we adverted at the opening of our Introduction : they have been attributed to E-andolph and Quarles, but they are every way worthy of the poet who wrote " The Vision of Ben Jonson, on the Muses of his friend M. Drayton," and to him we assign them : — Do, pious marble, let thy readers know "What they and what their children owe To Drayton's name; whose sacred dust We recommend unto thy trust. Protect his memory, and preserve his story ; Eemain a lasting monument of his glory : And when thy ruins shall disclaim To be the treasurer of his name, - His name, that cannot die, shall be An everlasting monument to thee. Our best thanks for important assistance in the preparation of this volume, either by the loan of books, or by the communication of instruction and advice, are willingly and gratefully tendered to the Earl of EUesmere, K.G. ; to Bolton Corney, Esq.; to Dr. Bandinel; Peter Cunningham, Esq. ; and J. Christie, Esq. " drank too hard," and that Shakespeare " died of a fever there contracted." We only allude to this statement to show that at the period when Ward wrote (about 1666), it was believed that Drayton and Ben Jonson and Shakespeare had been intimate. THE H A R M N I E of the Church. Containing, The Spirituall Songes and holy Hymnes, of godly men, Fatriarkes, and Prophetes : all, sweetly sounding, to the praise and glory of the highest. Now (newlie) reduced into sundrie kinds of English Meeter : meete to be read or sung, for the solace and comfort of the godly. By M. D. LONDON. Printed by Richard Ihones, at the Eose and Crowne, neere Holborne Bridge. 1591. TO THE GODLY AND VIRTUOUS LADY, THE LADY lANE DEUOEEUX, OE MERIUALE. Good madame, oft imagining with my selfe howe to manifest my well meaning vnto your LadisMppe, and in my lone towardes you most vnwilling to bee founde ingratefull, either in the behaKe of my Countrie, or the place of my byrth, To the one your godlie life beeing a president of perfect vertue, to the other your bountifuU hospitalitie an exceeding releefe : Then, (good Ladie,) my selfe, as an admyrer of your manie vertues, and a well-wisher vnto your happie and desired estate, doo here present the fruites of my labours vnto your modest and discreet consideration ; hoping that you will measure them, not by my abilitie, but by their authoritie, not as Poems of Poets, but praiers of Prophets ; and vouchsafe to be their gracious Patronesse against any gracelesse Parasite; And endeuour your selfe with this good Debora, Hester, and ludith (whose songes of praise I here present to your Ladiship) to the aduancing of Gods glorie and the beautifieng of his Church. Thus, committing your Ladiship and all your actions to the protection of the Almighty, and my short translation to your courteous censure, I humbly take my leaue. London, this 10. of Eeb. 1590. Your Ladiships to commaund, in all dutifull seruices, MiCHAELL Drayton. TO THE CUHTEOUS EEADEE. Gentle Reader, my meaning is not with the varietie of verse to feede any vaine humour, neither to trouble thee with deuises of mine owne inuention, as carieng an ouerweening of mine owne wit ; but here I present thee with these Psahnes or Songes of praise, so exactly translated as the prose would permit, or sence would any way suffer me : which (if thou shalt be the same in hart thou art in name, I mean, a Christian) I doubt not but thou wilt take as great delight in these as in any Poetical fiction : I speak not of Mars the god of Wars, nor of Venus the goddesse of loue, but of the Lord of Hostes that made heauen and earth ; Not of Toyes in Mount Ida, but of triumphes in Mount Sion ; not of Vanitie, but of Yeritie ; not of Tales, but of Truethes. Thus, submitting my seKe vnto thy clemencie, and my labours vnto thy indifferencie, I wish thee as my selfe. Thine, as his owne, M. D. The Spirituall Songes and Holy Hymnes, contained in this book. 1 . The inost notable Song of Moses which he made a litle before his death. 2. The Song of the Israelites for their deliuerance out of Egypt. 3. The most excellent Song of Salomon, containing eight Chapters. 4. The Song of Annah. 5. The Praier of Jeremiah. 6. The Song of Deborah and Barach. 7. A Song of the Faithful, for the mercies of God. 8. Another Song of the Faithful. 9. A Song of thankes to God. 10. An other Song of the Faithfull. Other Songes and Praiers out of the bookes of Apocripha. 1 1 . The Praier of Judith. 12. The Song of Judith. 13. A Praier in Ecclesiasticus of the Author. 14. The Praier of Salomon. 15. A Song of Jhesus the sonne of Sirach. 16. The Praier of Hester. 17. The Praier of Mardocheus. 18. A Praier in the person of the Faithfull. 19. A Praier of Tobias. FINIS. The most notable Song of Moses, containing Gods bene- fites to his people which he taught the Children of Israeli a litle before his death, and commanded them to learne it, and teach it vnto their children, as a wit- nesse between God and them. Deutronom. Chap, xxxii. Yee Heauens aboue, vnto my speach attend, And, Earth below giue eare vnto my will : My doctrine shall like pleasant drops discend, My words like heauenly dew shal down distil; Like as sweet showers refresh the hearbs again, Or as the grasse is nourish'd by the raine. I will describe lehouahs name aright. And to that God giue euerlasting praise. Perfect is he, a God of woondrous might; With iudgment he directeth all his waies : He onely true, and without sinne to trust; Eighteous is he, and he is onely iust. With loathsome sinne now are you all defilde, Not of his seed, but Bastards basely borne ; And from his mercie therefore quite exilde, Mischieuous men, through follie all forlorne : Is it not he which hath you dearly bought, Proportion'd you, and made you iust of nought? THE HABMONIB OF THE CHURCH. Consider well tlie times and ages past : Aske thy forefathers, and they shall thee tell That when lehouah did deuide at last Th' inheritance that to the Nations fel, And seperating Adams heires, he gaue The portion, his Israeli should haue. His people be the portion of the Lord , lacob the lot of his inheritance ; In wildernesse he hath thee not abhorr'd, But in wild Deserts did thee still aduance : He taught thee still, and had a care of thee, And kept thee as the apple of his eie. Like as the Eagle tricketh vp her neast. Therein to lay her litle birds full soft, And on her backe doth suffer them to rest, And with her wings doth carie them aloft; Euen so the Lord with care hath nourisht thee. And thou hast had no other God but he. And great lehouah giueth vnto thee The fertilst soyle the earth did euer yeeld, That thou all pleasure mightst beholde and see. And tast the fruit of the most pleasant field : Honey for thee out of the flint he brought. And oile out of the craggie rocke he wrought. With finest butter still he hath thee fed. With milks of Sheep he hath thee cherished ; With fat of Lambes and Eammes, in Bazan bred. With flesh of Goates he hath thee nourished ; With finest wheat he hath refresht thee still. And gaue thee wine, thereof to drink thy fill. THE HARMONIE OF THE CHURCH. But hee that should be thankful then for this, Once waxing fat, began to spurne and kicke. Thou art so crancke, and such thy grosenesse is, That now to lust thy prouender doth pricke ; That he that made thee thou remembrest not, And he that sau'd thee thou hast clean forgot. With Idols they offend his gracioiis eies. And by their sinne prouoke him vnto yre : To deuils they doo offer sacrifice. Forsake their God, and other goddes desire ; Gods whose beginnings were but strange & new, "Whom yet their fathers neuer fear'd nor knew. He which begat thee is cleane out of mind. The God which form'd thee thou doost not regard : The Lord to angre was therewith inclinde, His sonnes and daughters should him so reward; And there he vow'd his chearful face to hide, To see their end, and what would them betide. For faithlesse they and froward are become, And with no God moue me to ielousie : To angre they prouoke me all and some. And stiU offend me with their vanitie ; Ajid with no people I will mooue them then. And angre them with vaine and foolish men. For why? my wrath is kindled like the fire, And shall descend to the infernall lake ; The earth shall be consumed in mine ire, My flames shal make the mighty mountains quake : With many plagues I wil them stil annoy. And with mine arrowes I will them destroy. B 10 THE HARMONIB OP THE CHURCH. With hunger, heat, and with destruction, I wil them burne, consume, and ouerthrow : They shal be meat for beasts to feed vppon. The ground invenom'd whereupon they goe ; In field, in chamber stil my sword shall slay Man, maid, & child, with him whose head is gray. And I will scatter them both far and neare, And hencefoorth make their memorie to cease ; Saue that the furious enemie I feare, And that his pride should thereby more increase. And they should say, and foorth this rumor ring. That they, and not the Lord, haue done this thing. They are a nation void of counsell quite. To vnderstand there doth not one intend ; But were they wise, in it they would delite, And would consider of their latter end. Can one or two put thousands to the flight, Except the Lord, do help them with his might ? For with our God their Gods may not compare. Our foes themselues will still the same confesse : Their Vines of Sodome and Gomorra are. Their grapes of gaule, clusters of bitternesse ; Their wine is like to Dragons poison sure, Or gaule of Aspes that no man may endure. And haue not I laid vp in store this thing? Amongst my treasures doo I not it hide? The recompence with vengeance wil I bring. And all in time their foot awry shall slide ; For their destruction, loe ! is no we at hand. And mischief here, euen at their heels, doth stand. THE HABMONIB OF THE CHURCH. 11 For why? the Lord doth iudge the earth alone, And to his seruants shew himselfe most kinde : When he shall see their power is past and gone, And none kept vp in hold, nor left behind. When men shal say, let vs your goddes behold : Where be they now whom ye so much extold ? Which oft did eat the fatted sacrifice. And dranke the wine of the drinke offering ? Vnto your helpe now let vs see them rise : Loe ! I am God, and there is no such thing. I kil, giue life, I wound, make whole againe; Out of my handes no man can ought retaine. I lift my hands on high to heauen aboue, Immortall I, and onely Hue for euer: My glittering sword I sharpe for my behooue. In righteous judgment still I doo perseuer ; I wil send vengeance on mine enemies. And many plagues on them which me dispise : Mine arrowes then of blood shall haue their fill. My sword shal eate the verie flesh of men. For such my Saintes as they doo slay and kill, And for the Captiues they imprison then : And when I once begin reuenge to take, From plague & vengeance then I will not slake. Ye nations all, honour his people then. He will reuenge his seruantes guiltlesse blood, And surely plague the vile and wicked men, . Which stoutlie haue against him euer stood : He will shew mercie stil vnto his land, And on his people, brought foorth by his hand. b2 12 THE HARMONIE OF THE CHUBCH. A Song of Moses and the Israelites for their deKuerance out of Egypt. The XV. Chap, of Exodus. I WILL sing praise vnto the Lord for aie, Who hath triumphed gloriously alone : The horse and rider he hath ouerthrowen, And swallowed vp euen in the raging sea. He is my strength, he is my song of praise, He is the God of my saluation : A Temple will I build to him alone; I will exalt my fathers God alwaies. The Lord lehouah is a man of warre ; Pharoa, his chariots, and his mightie hoste Were by his hand in the wilde waters lost, His Captaines drowned in red Sea so farre. Into the bottom there they sanke like stones. The mightie depthes our enemies deuour : Thy owne right hand is gloorious in thy power. Thy owne right hand hath bruised al their bones. And in thy glorie thou subuerted hast The rebels rising to resist thy power : Thou sentst thy wrath, which shall them all deuour Euen as the fire doth the stubble wast. And with a blast out of thy nostrilles The flowing flood stood still as any stone; The waters were congealed all in one. And firme and sure as any rockes or hilles. THE HABMONIE OF THE CHUEOH. 13 The furious foe so vainly vaunteth stil, And voweth to pursue with endlesse toile, And not returne til he haue got the spoile ; With fire and sword they wil destroy and kill. Thou sentst the wind which ouerwhelm'd them all ; The surging seas came sousing in againe : As in the water, so with might and maine, Like lead vnto the bottome downe they fall. Oh, mightie Lord ! who may with thee compare? Amongst the gods I find none like to thee. Whose glorie's in holines, whose feares in praises be, Whose chiefe delights in working woonders are. Thou stretchest out thy right and holy arme, And presently the earth did them deuour ; And thou wilt bring vs by thy mightie power, As thou hast promist, without further harme. And for thy people, Lord, thou shalt prouide A place and seat of quietnesse and rest : The nations all with feare shall be opprest. And Palestina quake for all her pride. The Dukes of Edom shal hang downe the head. The Moabites shall tremble then for feare ; The Cananites in presence shall appeare, Like vnto men whose fainting heartes were dead. And feare and dread shall fall on them, alas ! Because thou helpest with thy mighty hand : So stil as stones amazed they shal stand, Oh, mightie Lord ! while thine elect doo passe. 14 THE HAUMONIB OF THE CHURCH. And thou shalt bring thy chosen and elect Unto the mount of thine inheritance, A place prepared thy people to aduance; A Sanctuary there thou shalt erect, Which thou, (oh Lord !) establish'd hast therefore, And there thy name shal raigne for euermore. The most excellent Song, which was Salomons, wherein is declared the true and vnfained loue betweene Christ and his Church, containing viii. Chapters. Chap. I. Let him imbrace his Deare with many a friendly kisse. For why ? thy loue than any wine to me more pleasant is ; In smel thou art most like sweet odors vnto me. Thy name like precious ointmet is, so sweet as sweet may be : Therefore the Virgins al of thee enamored are. Entice me on to follow thee, — loe ! we our selues prepare. The King hath brought me in to chamber richly dight ; He is my ioy, his loue is sweet, the good in him delight. Ye daughters of Jerusalem, although that browne I bee. Than Arras rich, or Cedars fruits I seemlier am to see : Disdaine me not, although I be not passing faire. For why ? the glowing sunny raies discoUoured haue my laire. My mothers darlings deare, with enuie swelling so, Haue me costraine'd to keep their Vine, thus I mine own forgoe. Tell me, my sweet and deare, where thou thy flocke doost feed, Or where thy litle Lamblings rest about midday indeed ? THE HAEMONIB OP THE CHURCH. 15 Els shall I walke about, all wandring like a stray, And seeke thee after other flocks through many an vnknowne way. If that my pathes (oh Paragon !) be so vnknowen to thee. Go feed thy flock amongst the tents wher none but shepherds be. My true and loyal Loue, I may thee well compare To famous Pharaos horses great, which in his chariots are : Thy cheeks bedect with precious stone, most louely to behold. About thy neck likewise do hang great massy chaines of gold. Fine costlie borders for my Loue of gold we wil prepare. With siluer studs accordinglie, of worke surpassing rare. Whiles he at table sat, perfumes then did I make Of Spicknard sweet and delicate, al for my true Loues sake : My loue, more sweet than Myrrhe, between my breasts doth ly, Or Camphere, that doth spring and grow in vine of Engady. How faire art thou, my Loue, my Doue, my Darling deare ! Thine eies most like vnto the Doues in sight to me appeare. Oh, how exceeding faire and seemly to be scene ! The bed where we together lie is hung with pleasant greene ; The beames our house vphold they all of Cedar be ; The reaching Rafters of the same of Fyrre, that stately tree. The Second Chapter. I AM the fragrant Flower of braue vermilion hue. And Lilie in the valey low, ysprong vp fresh and new. As Lillie flower excels the thorne or litle chyer of grasse. So far my Loue the Virgins all in beautie doth surpasse ; Or as the barren crooked stocke vnto the straightest tree, No more the sonnes vnto my Loue may ought compared be. To rest by his sweet side, to mee a heauenly blisse; The fruit that springeth from my Loue exceeding pleasant is. 16 THE HAEMONIE OP THE CHUECH. To Celler lie me brings of wine aboundant store ; His loue displaied ouer me, bow can I wish for more? Fil foorth your Flagons, tben, whereof tbe fume may flie; Bring forth your cates to comfort me, — ah me ! for loue I die. His left hand clipping close about my necke doth hold. His right doth sweetly me imbrace, and eke my corps enfold. I charge you by the Roes and Hinds, ye Jewish daughters all. Not once to stir nor wake my Loue, vntil she please to call. But stay; me thinks, this is mine owne Loues voice I heare: Loe, how he skips from hill to hill ! loe, yon he doth appeare ! My loue is like a Eoe that frisketh in the wood, Or like the strong and stately Hart in prime and lusty blood. He closely shroudes himselfe behind our wall, I see, And through the gate he dooth disclose and shew himselfe to me ; And, calling then, he saith, come to thine owne, my Deare, For, lo ! the clouds are past and gone, the skies are christal cleare : The flowers in the field so faire and freshly spring ; The birds do chant with merie glee, the Turtle now doth sing; The fig-trees bear such store that boughs with waight are bent. The Vines with blossoms do abound, which yeeld a sweet accent. Come to thine owne, my deare, my Darling, and my Doue; Leaue thou the place of thine abode, come to thine own true loue : Let me behold thy face, most pleasant to the sight, And heare my best beloueds voice that most doth me delight. Destroy the subtil Fox that doth the grapes deuoure, For, loe, behold ! the time is come, the vines do bud and floure. My Loue to me is true, and I likewise his owne. Which in the Lilies takes repast, himselfe euen all alone : Until the day doth spring, or shadowes fade away. Be as a Roe, or like the Harts which on the mountaines play. THE HARMONIE OP THE CHTJRCH 17 The Third Chapter. Bt night within my bed I romed here and there, But al in vain ; I could not find my Loue & friendly Fere. Then straight waies vp I rose, and searching euery street Throughout the city far & neer, but him I could not meete. The watchmen found me tho, to whom I then can say, Haue ye not seen mine owne true Loue of late come this a way ? Then, passing them, I found my Loue I long had sought. And to my mothers chamber then my darling haue I brought. I charge you by the Eoes and Hinds, this vow to me you make, Ye Jewish daughters, not to call my Loue till she doe wake. Who's that which doth fro wildernes in mighty smoke appeare, Like the perfiimes of odors sweet, which Merchants hold so dear ? About the bed of Salomon, behold, there is a band Of threescore valiant Israelites which al in armour stand ; All expert men of war, with sword stil ready prest. Least foes in night time should approch, when men suspect them least. King Salomon hath made of Liban tree so sure A Pallace braue, whose pillers strong are al of siluer pure ; The pauement beaten gold, the hangings purple graine. The daughters of Jerusalem with ioy to entertaine. Ye Sion daughters, see where Salomon is set In Eoyall throan, and on his head the princely Coronet, Wherewith his mother first adorn'd him (as they say). When he in mariage linked was, euen on his wedding day. The Fourth Chapter. Behold, thou art al faire, my Loue, my hearts delight ; Thine eies so louely like the Doues appear to me in sight : Thy haire surpassing faire and seemely to the eie. Like to a goodly heard of Goates on Gilead mountaine hie ; c 18 THE HARMONIE OP THE CHURCH. Thy teeth like new washt sheep returning from the flood, Wheras not one is barren found, but beareth twinnes so good : Thy lips like scarlet thred, thy talke dooth breed delight ; Thy temples like pomgranet faire doth shew to me in sight; Thy necke like Dauids Tower, which for defence doth stand, AVlierein the shieldes and targets be of men of mightie hand ; Thy brests like twinned Eoes in prime and youthfull age, Wliich feed among the Lillies sweet, their hunger to asswage. Until the day doe spring, and night be banisht hence, I will ascend into the mount of Myrrhe and Frankensence. Thou art all faire, my Loue, most seemly eke to see; From head to foot, from top to toe, there is no spot in thee. Come downe from Libanon, from Libanon aboue. And from Amanahs mountain hie come to thine own true loue : From Sheners stately top, from Hermon hil so hie, From Lions dens, and from the cliflFes where lurking Leopards lie. My Spouse and sister deare, thy loue hath wounded me ; Thy louely eie and seemly neck hath made me yeeld to thee. Thy loue far better is than any wine to me, Thy odors sweet doth far surpasse the smell where spices be : Thy lips like hony combe, vnder thy tongue doth lie The honey sweet; thy garments smel like Libanon on hie. My Spouse a garden is, fast vnder locke and kay. Or like a Fountaine closely kept, where sealed is the way. Like to a pleasant plot I may thee well compare. Where Camphere, Spicknard, dainty fruits, with sweet Pomgranets are, Euen Spicknard, Saffron, Calamus, & Synamom do growe. With Incense, Myrrhe, and Alloes, with many spices moe. Oh fountaine passing pure ! oh Well of life most deare ! Oh Spring of loftie Libanon, of water christal cleare ! Ye North and Southern winds, vpon my garden blow, That the sweet spice that is therein on euery side may flow : Vnto his garden place my Loue for his repast Shall walke, and of the fruites therein shal take a pleasant tast. THE HAEMONIE OP THE CHUHCH. 19 The I^ift Chapter. Within my garden plot, loe ! I am present now ; I gathered haue the Myrrhe and spice that in aboundance growe ; With honey, milke, and wine I haue refresht me here: , Eat, drink, my friends, be mery there with harty friedly cheare. Although in slumbering sleepe it seemes to you I lay, Yet heare I my beloued knock, me thinks I heare him say, Open to me the gate, my Loue, my hearts delight, For, loe ! my locks are all bedewed with drizling drops of night. My garments are put off, then may I not doo so : Shal I defile my feet I washt so white as any snow? Then fast euen by the dore to me he shew'd his haijd ; My heart was then enamoured when as I saw him stand. Then straight waies vp I rose, to ope the dore with speed ; My handes and fingers dropped Myrrhe vpon the bar indeed : Then opened I the dore vnto my Loue at last; But all in vaine, for why? before my Loue was gone and past. There sought I for my loue, then could I crie and call; But him I could not find, nor he nould answer me at all. The watchmen found me then, as thus I walk'd astray, They wounded me, and from my head my vaile they took away. Ye daughters of lerusalem, if ye my Loue doo see. Tell him that I am sicke for loue, yea, tel him this from me. Thou peerelesse Gem of price, I pray thee to vs tell What is thy Loue, what may he be that doth so far excell? In my beloueds face the Eose and Lilly striue ; Among ten thousand men not one is found so faire aliue. His head like finest gold, with secret sweet perfume. His curled locks hang all as black as any Rauens plume ; His eies be like to Doues on Eiuers banks below, Ywasht with milk, whose collours are most gallant to the show: His cheeks like to a plot where spice and flowers growe ; His lips like to the Lilly white, from whence pure Myrrh doth flow ; c2 20 THE HABMONIE OP THE CHURCH. His hands like rings of gold witli costly Chrisalet ; His belly like the Yuory white with seemly Saphyrs set : His legs like Fillers strong of Marble set in gold; His countenance like Libanon or Cedars to behold; His mouth it is as sweet, yea, sweet as sweet may be. This is my Loue ; ye Virgins, loe ! euen such a one is he. Thou fairest of vs al, whether is thy Louer gone ? Tel vs, and we will goe with thee : thou shalt not goe alone. The Sixt Chapter. DowNE to his garden place mine own true Loue is gone. Among the Spice and Lillies sweet to walke himselfe alone. True am I to my loue, and he my louing make, Which in the Lillies makes abode, and doth his pleasure take. With Tirzah or Jerusalem thy beautie may be waide : In shew like to an Armie great, whose Ensignes are displaid. Oh, turne away thine eies ! for they haue wounded me : Thy haires are like a heard of Goats on Gilead mount that be ; Thy teeth like new washt sheep returning from the flood, Whereas not one is barren found, but beareth twins a good: The temples of thy head, within thy locks to showe, Are like to the Pomgranet fruit that in the Orchards grow. Of Concubines four score there are, of Queens twice treble ten. Of Virgins for the multitude not to be numbred then ; But yet my Done alone and vndefiled Fere, Her mothers only daughter is, to her exceeding deare. The Virgins saw my Loue, and they haue lik'd her well. The Queens, and eke the Concubines, they say she doth excell. Who's she I doo behold, so like the morning cleare. Or like the Moon when towards the ful in pride she doth appear ? Bright as the radiant raies that from the Sun descend, Or like an Army terrible when Ensignes they extend? THE HARMONIE OE THE CHURCH. 21 Unto the nuts downe will I goe and fruitfull valeyes lowe, To see if that the Vine doo bud and the Pomgranets growe. My selfe I know not I, ne nothing knew I then; Let me be like a chariot, euen of thy noble men. Return againe, oh ! make returne, thou Shulamite so deare Let vs enioy thy company ; I pray thee soiorne here. What see you in the Shulamite? in her what may you see, But like a troupe of warlike men that in the armies be? The Seuenth Chapter. How stately are thy steps with braue and lofty pace, Thou daintie princesse, darling deare, with comely gallant grace ! The ioints of thy fair thighs, the which so straight do stand. Are like to curious iewels wrought by cunning workmans hand : Thy nauell like a goblet is which stil with wine doth flowe ; Thy belly like an heape of wheat, about which Lillies growe : Thy breasts I may compare like to two litle Roes, Which follow on their mothers steps when forth to feed she goes ; Thy necke like to a Tower of costly luory fram'd, Thine eies like Heshbo waters clear, by that Bathrabbin nam'd : Thy nose like Libanon Tower, most seemly to the eie, Which towards Damascus citie faire, that stately town, doth ly. Thy head like Scarlet red, thy haire of purple hue : The King in thee doth take delight as in his Lady true. How faire art thou, my Loue, and seemly to the sight ! The pleasures that abound in thee they are my chiefe delight: Thy stature like the Palme, the tall and straightest tree ; Thy brests, the which do thee adorne, most like to clusters be. Upon the pleasant Palme, I said, I wil take holde. And rest vpon her pleasant boughes, I said, I wil be bolde. Thy breasts are like a bunch of grapes on the most fruitful vine ; Thy nose in smel like to the fruit of al most pure and fine : 22 THE HARMONIE OP THE CHURCH. The roofe of thy sweet mouth like purest wine doth tast, Which makes the very aged lagh, forgetting sorrowes past. I am vnto my Loue a faithfull friendly Fere, And he is likewise vnto me most tender and most deare. Goe we into the field, to sport vs in the plaine, And in the pleasant villages, (my Loue,) let vs remaine: Then, early will we rise, and see if that the vine do flourish. And if the earth accordingly do the Pomgranets nourish. I feele the Mandrakes smell, within our gates that be: The sweetest things both new and olde, (my Loue,) I kept for thee. The Eight Chapter. Oh ! that thou weart my brother borne, that suckt my mothers breast. Then sweetly would I kisse thy lippes, and by thee take my rest. Vnto my mothers closet sure mine own Loue will I bring. And be obedient vnto him in euery kind of thing : There wil I giue to thee, (my Loue,) the daintie spiced wine. And pleasant liquor that distils from the Pomgranet fine. With his left hand he shal support, and eke my head vpreare^ And with the right most louingly he shal imbrace his deare. Ye daughters of Jerusalem, doo not my Loue disease. But suffer her to take her rest so long as she shall please. Who's that which from the wildernes yon commeth from aboue, And in this sort familiarly dooth leane vpon her Loue? Vnder a pleasant aple tree, from whence like fruit doth spring. Thy mother first conceiued thee, euen forth which did thee bring. Let it be like a priuie scale within thy secret heart, Or like a Signet on thy hand thy secrets to impart ; For iealousie is like the graue, and loue more strong than death. From whose hot brands ther doth proceed a flaming fiery breath. The flouds cannot alay his heat, nor water quench his flame. Neither the greatest treasure can counteruaile the same. THE HARMONIE OP THE CHUECH. 23 Our litle sister hath no breasts: what shal we doo or say, When we shal giue her to her Spouse vpon her wedding day ? If that she be a wall, on that foundation sure A princely pallace wil we build of siluer passing pure ; And if she be a doore, she shall inclosed be With braue and goodly squared boords of the fine Cedar tree. I am a mightie wall, my breasts like Towers hie ; Then am I passing beautiful in my beloueds eie. IGng Salomon a vinyard had in faire Baalhamon field, Each one in siluer yeerely dooth a thousand peeces yeeld ; But yet my vuieyard, (Salomon,) thy vine doth far excell For fruit and goodnes of the same, thou know'st it very wel. A thousand siluer peeces are euen yearely due to me. Two thousand likewise vnto them the which her keepers be. Oh ! thou that in the garden dwell'st, learne me thy voice to know, That I may listen to the same, as thy companions doo. Flie, my beloued, hence away, and be thou like the Roe, Or as the Hart on mountaine tops, wheron sweet spices grows. The Song of Annali for the bringing foorth of Samuel her Sonne. The second Chap, of the first booke of Samuel. Mt heart doth in the Lord reioice, that lining Lord of might, Which doth his seruants horn exalt in al his peoples sight : I wil reioice in their despight which erst haue me abhord, Because that my saluation dependeth on the Lord. None is so holie as the Lord, besides thee none there are ; With our God there is no God that may himselfe compare. See that no more presumptuously ye neither boast nor vaunt. Nor yet vnseemly speak such things, so proud and arrogant. For why ? the counsell of the Lord in depth cannot be sought, Our enterprises and our actes by him to passe are brought. 24 THE HARMONIE OP THE CHURCH. The bo we is broke, the mightie ones subuerted are at length, And they which weake and feeble were increased are in strength : They that were ful & had great store with labor buy their bread, And they which hungrie were & poore with plenty now are fed : So that the womb which barren was hath many children born, And she which store of children had is left now all forlorne. The Lord doth kill and make aliue, his iudgments all are iust ; He throweth downe into the graue, and raiseth from the dust. The Lord doth make both rich & poore ; he al our thoughts doth trie ; He bringeth low, & eke againe exalteth vp on hie. He raiseth vp the simple soule, whom men pursude with hate, To sit amongst the mightie ones in chaire of princely state ; For why ? the pillers of the earth he placed with his hand. Whose mighty stregth doth stil support the waight of al the land. He wil preserue his saints ; likewise the wicked men at length He wil confound : let no man seem to glory in his strength. The enemies of God, the Lord, shal be destroied all. From heauen he shal thunder send, that on their heads shal fall. The mightie Lprd shall iudge the world, and glue his power alone Vnto the King, and shal exalt his owne annointed one. The Song of lonah in the Whales bellie. In the second Chap, of lonah. In griefe and anguish of my heart, my voice I did extend Unto the Lord, and he therto a willing eare did lend ; Euen from the deep and darkest pit & the infernall lake, To me he hath bow'd down his eare, for his great mercies sake. For thou into the middest of surging seas so deepe Hast cast me foorth, whose bottom is so low & wondrous steep ; Whose mighty wallowing wanes, which from the floods do flow, Haue with their power vp swallowed me, and ouerwhelm'd me tho. THE HARMONIE OP THE CHURCH. 25 Then said I, loe ! I am exilde from presence of thy face, Yet wil I once againe behold thy house and dwelling place. The waters haue encompast me, the floods inclosde me round, The weeds haue sore encombred me, which in the seas abound : Vnto the valeyes down I went, beneath the hils which stand ; The earth hath there enuiron'd me with force of al the land : Yet hast thou stil preserued me from al these dangers here. And brought my life out of the pit, oh Lord, my God, so deare ! My soule consuming thus with care, I praied vnto the Lord, And he from out his holie place heard me with one accord. Who to vain lieng vanities doth whollie him betake Doth erre, also Gods meroie he doth vtterly forsake; But I wil offer vnto him the sacrifice of praise. And pay my vowes, ascribing thanks vnto the Lord alwaies. The Praier of leremiah, bewailing the captiuitie of the people. In the fift Chap, of his Lamentations. Gal vnto mind, oh mightie Lord ! the wrongs we daily take : Consider and behold the same, for thy great mercies sake. Our landb & our inheritance meere strangers do possesse. The alients in our houses dwel, and we without redresse. We now, (alas ! ) are fatherlesse, & stil pursude with hate ; Our mourning mothers nowe remaine in wofuU widdowes state. We buy the water which we drink, such is our grieuous want. Likewise the wood euen for our vse that we ourselues did plant : Our neckes are subiect to the yoke of persecutions thrall. We wearied out with cruell toile, and find no rest at all. Afore time we in Egypt land and in Assyria serued, For food our hunger to sustaine, least that we should haue sterued. Our fathers, which are dead & gone, haue sinned wondrous sore. And we now scourg'd for their offence, ah ! woe are we therefore. D 26 THE HAUMONIE OF THE CHURCH. Those seruile slaues, which bondmen be, of them in fear we stand, Yet no man doth deliuer vs from cruel caitiues hand. Our linings we are forc'd to get in perils of our lines. The drie and barren wildernesse therto by danger driues. Our skins be scortcht, as though they had bin in an ouen dride. With famine and the penury which here we doo abide : Our wiues and maides defloured are by violence and force On Sion and in luda land, sans pity or remorce. Our kings by cruel enimies with cordes are hanged vp. Our grauest sage and ancient men haue tasted of that cup : Our yoong men they haue put to sword, not one at al they spare. Our litle boyes vpon the tree sans pitie hanged are. Our elders sitting in the gates can now no more be found. Our youth leaue off to take delight in musicks sacred sound : The ioy and comfort of our heart away is fled and gone. Our solace is with sorrow mixt, our mirth is turn'd to mone. Our glory now is laid full low and buried in the ground. Our sins ful sore do burthen vs, whose greatnes doth abound. Oh holy blessed Sion hill ! my heart is woe for thee : Mine eies poure foorth a flood of teares this dismal day to see, Which art destroied, and now lieth wast from sacred vse and trade; Thy holie place is now a den of filthy Foxes made. But thou, the euerliuing Lord, which doost remaine for aye, Whose seat aboue the firmament full sure and still doth stay. Wherefore dost thou forsake thine owne ? shal we forgotten be ? Turne vs, good Lord, and so we shall be turned vnto thee. Lord, cal vs home from our exile to place of our abode : Thou long inough hast punisht vs; oh Lord, now spare thy rod ! THE HARMONIE OE THE CHURCH. 27 The Song of Deborah and Baracke. The fift Chap, of Judges. Praise ye the Lord, the which reuenge on Israels wrongs doth take, Likewise for those which offered vp themselues for Israels sake. Heare this, ye kings, ye princes al, giue eare with one accord ; I wil giue thanks, yea, sing the praise of Israels lining Lord. When thou departedst, (Lord,) from Seir, and out of Edom field. The earth gan quake, the heauens rain, the cloudes their water yeeld : The mountains hie before the Lord haue melted euery del. As Synay did in presence of the Lord of Israeli. In time of Sangar, Anaths Sonne, and in old laels dales. The paths were al vnoccupied, men sought forth vnknown waies ; The townes & cities there lay wast, and to decay they fel. Til Deborah a matrone graue became in Israeli. They chose the gods ; then garboils did within their gates aboud ; A spear or shield in Israel there was not to be found. In those which gouern Israel my heart doth take delight. And in the valiant people there : oh ! praise the Lord of might. Speak, ye that on white Asses ride, & that by Midden dwell. And ye that daily trade the waies, see forth your minds you tell. The clattering noise of archers shot, when as the arrowes flew, Appeased was amongst the sort which water daily drew : The righteousnesse of God, the Lord, shal be declared there. And likewise Israels righteousnes which worship him in feare : The people with reioicing hearts then all with one consent, I mean the Lords inheritance, vnto the gates they went. Deborah, vp, arise, and sing a sweet and worthy song: Baracke, lead them as captiues forth which vnto thee belong; For they which at this day remaine do rule like lords alone : The Lord ouer the mightie ones giues me dominion. The roots of Ephraim arose gainst Amalecke to fight. And so likewise did Beniamin with all their power and might. d2 28 THE HABMONIE OF THE CHURCH. From Macher came a company which chiefest sway did beare, From Zebulon which cunning clarks and famous writers were. The kings which came of Isacher were with Deborah tho, Yea Isacher and Barack both attend on her also : He was dismounted in the vale : for the deuislons sake Of Ruben the people there great lamentation make. Gilead by lorden made abode, and Dan on shipboord lay, And Asher in the desart he vpon the shore doth stay. They of Zebulon and Nepthaly, like worthy valiant wightes. Before their foes, euen in the field, aduanc'd themselues in fights. The kings themselues in person fought, the kings of Canaan, In Tanach plaine wheras the streame of swift Megido ran. No pay, no hyer, ne coine at all, not one did seem to take ; They serued not for greedy gain nor filthy lucre sake : Theheauenshyandheauenlypowers these things to passe haue brought ; The stars against proud Sisera euen in their course haue fought : The stream of Kishons ancient brook hath ouerwhelm'd them there. My soule, sith thou hast done thy part, be now of harty cheare. The hardened hooues of barbed horse were al in peeces broke By force of mightie men which met with many a sturdy stroke. The angel hath pronounc'd a curse, which shal on Meroz fall, And those that doo inhabite there, a curse light on them all. Because they put not forth their hands to help the lining Lord Against the proud and mighty ones which haue his truth abhord. laell, the Kenit Hebers wife, most happy, shal be blest Aboue al other women there which in the tents do rest. He asked water for to drink; she gaue sweet milk to him. Yea, butter in a lordly dish, which was full tricke and trim. Her left hand to the naile she put, her right the hammer wrought. Wherewith presumptuous Sisera vnto his death she brought; And from his corps his head she cut with mortal deadly wound. When through the teples of his head she naild him to the groiid : He bowed them vnto the earth, and at her feet can fall; And where he fell, there still he lay bereau'd of sences all. THE HABMONIB OP THE CHURCH. 29 The mother then of Sisera, in window where she lay, Doth marueil much that this her sonne doth make so long a stay : Her Ladies tlien, they hearing that, make answer by and by; Yea, to her speaches past before her selfe doth this replie : — Hath he not gotten mightie spoiles, and now diuision makes ? Each one a Damosell hath or twaine, which he as captiue takes. Sisera of costly coloured robes, ful rich with needle wrought, Hath got a pray which vnto him as chiefest spoiles are brought. So let thine enemies, Lord ! sustaine and suffer blame ; And let thy chosen blessed ones, that loue and feare thy name, Be like the Son when in the morne his glorie doth increase. Or like the land which many a yeare hath bin in rest and peace. Another Song of the Paithful for the mercies of God. In the xii. Chap, of the prophesie of Isaiah. Oh lining Lord ! I still will laude thy name ; For though thou wert offended once with me. Thy heauy wrath is turn'd from me againe, And graciously thou now doost comfort mee. Behold, the Lord is my saluation; I trust in him, and feare not any power: He is my song, the strength I leane vpon ; The Lord God is my louing Sauiour. Therefore, with ioy out of the well of life Draw foorth sweet water which it dooth affoord, And in the day of trouble and of strife Cal on the name of God, the lining Lord: 30 THE HABMONIE OF THE CHUECH. Extol his works and woonders to the sunne : Vnto al people let his praise be showne, Record in song the meruails he hath done, And let his glorie through the world be blowne. Crie out aloud and shout on Sion hill. I giue thee charge that this proclaimed be, The great and mightie King of Israeli Now onely dwelleth in the midst of thee. A Song of the TaitMul. In the third Chap, of the prophesie of Habacucke. Lord, at thy voice my heart for feare hath trembled : Vnto the world, (Lord,) let thy workes be showen; In these our dales now let thy power be knowen. And yet in wrath let mercie be remembred. From Teman, loe ! our God you may behold, The holie one from Paran mount so hie : His glorie hath cleane couered the Skie, And in the earth his praises be inrolde. His shining was more clearer than the light ; And from his hands a fulnesse did proceed, Which did contain his wrath and power indeed ; Consuming plagues and fire were in his sight. He stood aloft and compassed the land, And of the Nations doth defusion make ; The mountains rent, the hilles for feare did quake : His vnknown pathes no man may vnderstand. THE HARMONIE OP THE CHURCH. 31 The Morians tentes, euen for their wickednes, I might behold, the land of Midian, Amaz'd and trembling, like vnto a man Forsaken quite, and left in great distresse. What, did the riuers moue the Lord to ire? Or did the floods his Maiesty displease ? Or was the Lord offended with the seas, That thou earnest forth in chariot hot as fire? Thy force and power thou freely didst relate ; Vnto the tribes thy oath doth surely stand ; And by thy strength thou didst deuide the land. And from the earth the riuers seperate. The mountaines saw, and trembled for feare; The sturdy streame with speed foorth passed by ; The mighty depthes shout out a hideous crie, And then aloft their waues they did vpreare. The Sun and Moon amid their course stood still; Thy speares and arrowes forth with shining went : Thou spoilest the land, being to anger bent, And in displeasure thou didst slay and kill. Thou wentest foorth for thine owne chosens sake. For the sauegard of thine annointed one. The house of wicked men is ouerthrowne, And their foundations now goe all to wracke. Their townes thou strikest by thy mightie power, With their own weapons made for their defence, Who like a whyrl-wind came with the pretence, The poore and simple man quite to deuoure. 32 THE HABMONIE OP THE CHURCH. Thou madest tliy horse on seas to gallop fast, Vpon the waues thou ridest here and there. My intrals trembled then for verie feare, And at thy voice my lips shooke at the last. Griefe pierc'd my bones, and feare did me annoy, In time of trouble where I might find rest; For to reuenge when once the Lord is prest. With plagues he wil the people quite destroy. The fig-tree now no more shall sprout nor flourish, The pleasant vine no more with grapes abound : No pleasure in the citie shall be found. The field no more her fruit shal feed nor nourish. The sheep shall now be taken from the fold. In stall of Bullocks there shall be no choice ; Yet in the Lord, my Sauiour, I reioice : My hope in God yet wil I surely hold. God is my strength, the Lord my only stay; My feet for swiftnesse it is he will make Like to the Hinds, who none in course can take ; Vpon high places he will make me way. A Song of thankes to God, in that he shewetli himselfe iudge of the world in punishing the wicked and maintaining the godlie. In the XV. Chap, of the prophesie of Isaiah. Oh Lord, my God, with praise I wil perseuer, Thy blessed name in song I wil record, For the great wonders thou hast done, Lord ! Thy trueth and counsels haue bene certain euer. THE HARMONIE OP THE CHURCH. 33 A mightie citie thou makest ruinat, The strongest townes thou bringest to decay, A place where strangers vsually do stay. And shall not be reduced to former state. The proudest people therefore stoupe to thee, The strongest cities haue thee still in feare ; Thou strengthnest the poore man in dispaire. And helpest the needle in necessitie ; Thou art a sure refuge against a shower, A shadow which doth from the heat defend : The raging blasts the mighty forth doth send Is like a storme which shakes the stateliest tower. Thou shalt abate the forraine strangers pride. Like as the heat doth drie the moistest place ; The glorie of the proud thou shalt deface. Like as the cloudes the sunny beames doo hide. The Lord of hostes shal in this mount prouide. And to his people here shal make a feast Of fatted things and dainties of the best, Of Marrow and wines finely purified. And in this Mountaine by his mightie hand That same dark cloud the Lord wil cleane destroy; Euen with the vaile which doth his folke annoy. And death no more before his face shall stand. The Lord will wipe out of his chosens eies The teares which doo their faces so distaine, And their rebuke shal now no more remaine : Thus saith the Lord, these be his promises. E 31 THE HARMONIE OF THE CHURCH. And men shal say then, loe ! this same is he, This is our God on whom we did attend. This is the Lord that will vs stil defend. We will be glad and ioyfuU (LordJ in thee: Thy hand, (oh Lord !) here in this mount shall rest ; And cursed Moab shall by thee be beaten, As in thy iudgment thou of long doost threaten, As in Mamena straw of men is thresht. And ouer them the Lord his hand shal holde, As he that swimmeth stretoheth him at length : And by his power, and by his mighty strength The proud and stout by him shal be controlde. Thy highest walles and towers of all thy trust He shall bring downe, and lay them all full lowe; Vnto the ground his hand shall make them bow, And lay thy pride and glorie in the dust. Another Song of the Faithfull, wherein is declared in what consisteth the saluation of the Church. In the xvi. Chap, of the prophesie of Isaiah, And in that day this same shal be our song, In luda land this shall be sung and said. We haue a citie which is woondrous strong. And for the walles the Lord himself our aid. Open the gates ! yea, set them open wide, And let the godly and the righteous passe; Yea, let them enter, and therein abide, Which keepe his lawes, and do his trueth imbrace. THE HARMONIE OF THE CHTJKCH. 35 And in thy iudgment thou wilt sure preserue In perfect peace those which doo trust in thee. Trust in the Lord which dooth all trust deserue ; He is thy strength, and none but onelie he. He will bring downe the proud that looke so hie ; The stateliest buildings he wil soone abase, And make them euen with the ground to lie, And vnto dust he will their pride deface. It shall be troden to the verie ground; The poore and needy downe the same shal tread. The iust mans way in righteousnes is found ; Into a path most plaine thou wilt him lead. But we haue waited long for thee, oh Lord ! And in thy way of iudgment we do rest ; Our soules doth ioy thy name still to record. And thy remembrance doth content vs best. My soule hath long'd for thee, (oh Lord !) by night. And in the morn my spirit for thee hath sought : Thy iudgments to the earth giue such a light. As al the world by them thy trueth is taught. But shew thy mercie to the wicked man. He wil not learne thy righteousnes to know ; His chiefe delight is still to curse and ban, And vnto thee himselfe he will not bow. They doo not once at all regard thy power ; Thy peoples zeale shal let them see their shame ; But with a fire thou shalt thy foes deuoure. And cleane consume them with a burning flame. E 2 36 THE HABMONIE OF THE CHURCH. With peace tliou wilt preserue vs (Lord) alone, For thou hast wrought great woonders for our sake : And other gods beside thee haue we none ; Only in thee we all our comfort take. The dead, and such as sleep within the graue, Shal giue no glorie nor yeeld praise to thee, Which here on earth no place nor being haue, And thou hast rooted out of memorie. Oh Lord ! thou doost this nation multiply, Thou, Lord, hast blest this nation with increase : Thou art most glorious in thy maiesty ; Thou hast inlarg'd the earth with perfect peace. We cride to thee, and oft our hands did wring. When we haue seen thee bent to punishment; Like to a woman in childbyrth traueiling, Euen so in paine we mourne and doo lament. We haue conceiu'd and laboured with paine. But only wind at last we forth haue brought. Vpon the earth no hope there doth remaine; The wicked world likewise auailes vs nought. The dead shal Hue, and such as sleep in graue, With their own bodies once shal rise againe : Sing, ye that in the dust your dwelling haue; The earth no more her bodies shall retaine. Come, come, my people, to my chamber here, And shut the doores vp surely after thee ; Hide thou thy selfe, and doo not once appeare, Nor let thine eies mine indignation see. THE HARMONIE OF THE CHURCH. 37 For from aboue the Lord is now dispos'd To scourge the sinnes that in the world remaine : His seruants blood in earth shal be disclosde, And she shal now yeeld vp her people slaine. FINIS. Hereafter follovve certain other Songs and Praiers of godly men and women, out of the bookes of Apocripha. The Praier of ludith for the deliuerance of the People. In the ix. Chap, of the book of ludith. Oh Lord ! the God of Simeon, my soueraigne Father deare. To whom thou gauest strength and might the sword in hand to beare, To take reuenge on those which first the maidens wombe did tame, And spoiled her virginitie with great reproch and shame ; For which offence thou gauest vp their princes to be slaine, So that their wounds with gory blood their beds did all distain ; Their seruats with their lords, ech one, haue felt thy wrath alike. Who sitting in their roial seat thou sparest not to strike ; Their wiues, their daughters, & their goods, thou gau'st, forthy behoue. As prais, as captiues, & as spoiles, to those whom thou didst loue; Who, moou'd with zeale, could not abide their blood defil'd to see; Then heare me. Lord, a widow poore which here do cal to thee. Things past, and thingsnotyetdiscern'djthyprouidence hath wrought. Things present, & the things to come, by thee to passe are brought: Each thing is present at thy call thy wisdome doth deuise. Thy secret iudgments long before thy knowledge doth comprise. Th'Assirians now in multitude a mighty number are, AVhose horsmen on their barbed horse themselues to war prepare ; 38 THE HARMONIE OP THE CHURCH. Their hope in footmen doth consist, in sling, in speare, and shield: They know not thee to be the Lord whose force doth win the field. Let all their force, their strength, and power be by thy might abated, Who vow thy Temple to defile which thou hast consecrated ; Yea, to pollute thy Tabernacle, thy house, and holy place. And with their instruments of war thine Altars to deface. Behold their pride, and poure on them thy wrath, and heauy yre. And strength my hand to execute the thing I now desire ; Smite thou the seruant and the lord, as they together stand. Abate their glory and their pride euen by a womans hand. For in the greatest multitude thou takest not delight, Nor in the strong and valiant men consisteth not thy might; But to the humble, lowly, meeke, the succourlesse, and poore. Thou art a help, defence, refuge, and louing sauiour. My father in thy name did trust, Israels Lord most deare, Of heauen, of earth, of sea and land ! doo thou my praier heare : Grant thou me wit, sleight, power, strength to wound them which aduance Theselues ouer thy Sion hil & thine inheritance. Declare to nations far and neare, and let them know ful well. Thou art the Lord whose power & strength defendeth Israeli. The Song of ludith, hauing slaine Holoplieriies. In the xvi. Chap, of the book of ludith. Tune vp the Timbrels, then, with laud vnto the Lord, Sound foorth his praise on Simbals loud, with songs of one accord: Declare & shew his praise, also his name rehearse. In song of thankes exactly pend, of sweet and noble verse. The Lord he ceaseth warres, euen he the verie same, Tis he that doth appease all strife, lehouah is his name; The which hath pitcht his tent, our surest strength and aide. Amongst vs here, least that our foes shuld make vs once dismaid. THE HARMONIE OP THE CHURCH. 39 From northren mountain tops proud Assur came a downe, With warlike men, a multitude of famous high renowne, Whose footmen stopt the streams where riuers woont to flowe, And horsmen couered all the vales that lay the hilles belowe. His purpose was for to destroy my land with sword and fire, To put my yongmen to the sword did thirst with hot desire : ily children to captiuitle he would haue borne away, jNIy virgins so by rape and force as spoiles and chiefest pray. But yet the high and mighty Lord his people doth defend, And by a silly womans hand hath brought him to his end : For why? their mightie men with armes were not subdude, Xor with their blood our yoong mens hands were not at al imbrude, Xo, none of Titans line this proud Assirian slue, Xor any Gyants aid we crau'd this souldier to subdue; But ludith she alone, Meraris daughter deere. Whose heauenly hue hath bred his baine,and broughthimto his beere. She left her mourning weed, and deckt her selfe with gold, In royall robes of seemly showe, all Israeli to behold: With odors she perfum'd her selfe after the queintest guise. Her haire with fillet finely bound as art could wel deuise : Her slippers neat and trim his eies and fancie fed ; Her beautie hath bewitcht his mind, her sword cut off his head. The Perseans were amaz'd, her modestie was such. The jMedes at her bold enterprise they marueiled as much. Amongst th' Assyrians then great clamors can arise, When as the fact so lately done apear'd before their eies. The sons, which erst my daughters haue euen on their bodies born, Haue slaine them as they fled in chase, as men so quite forlorne: Euen at the presence of the Lord the stoutest turn'd his backe. His power did so astonish them, that al things went to wracke. A song now let vs sing of thankes vnto the Lord ; Yea, in a song of pleasant tune let vs his praise record. Oh God ! thou mightie Lord, who is there like to thee? In strength and power to thee, oh Lord ! none may compared be. 40 THE HAUMONIE OP THE CHURCH. Thy creatures all obey and serue thee in their trade. For thou no sooner spakst the word but euery thing was made : Thou sentest foorth the spirit which did thy worke fulfill, And nothing can withstand thy voice, but listen to thy will. The mountains shal remoue wher their foundation lay, Likewise the iloods, the craggy rocks like wax shal melt away ; But they that feare the Lord, and in him put their trust, Those will he loue, and stil impute amongst the good and iust. But woe be those that seeke his chosen flocks decay ! The Lord God wil reuenge their wrongs at the last iudgment day; For he such quenchlesse fire and gnawing wormes shal send Into their flesh, as shal consume them world without an eno. A Praier of the Authour. In the xxiii. Chap, of Ecclesiasticus. LoKD of my life, my guide and gouernour, Father, of thee this one thing I require ; Thou wilt not leaue me to the wicked power. Which seeke my fall, and stil my death desire. Oh ! who is he that shall instruct my thought, And so with wisdom shall inspire my heart. In ignorance that nothing may be wrought By me with them whose sinne shall not depart Least that mine errors growe and multiplie, And to destruction through my sinnes I fall. My foes reioice at my aduersitie, Who in thy mercie haue no hope at all. THE HARMONIE OF THE CHURCH. 41 My Lord and God, fr(5m wliom my life I tooke, Vnto the wicked leaue me not a pray. A haughty mind, a proud disdainfull looke, From me thy Seruant take thou cleane away. Vaine hope likewise, with vile concupiscence, Lord, of thy mercie take thou cleane from me : Retaine thou him in true obedience, Who with desire daily serueth thee. Let not desire to please the greedy mawe. Or appetite of any fleshly lust, Thy seruant from his louing Lord withdraw; But giue thou me a mind both good and iust. The Praier of Salomon. In the ix. Chap, of the book of Wisdome. Oh God of our forefathers all, of mercie thou the Lord ! Which heauen and earth and all thinges els createdst with thy word ; And by thy wisdome madest man like to thy selfe alone, And gauest him ouer thy workes the chiefe dominion, That he shoud rule vpon the earth with equity and right. And that his iudgments should be pure and vpright in thy sight: Giue me that wisdome which about thy sacred throne doth stay. And from amongst thine own elect, (Lord,) put me not away; For I thy seruant am, and of thy handmaid borne, A sillie soule, whose life, alas ! is short and all forlorne; And do not vnderstand at all what ought to be my guide, I mean thy statutes and thy lawes, least that I slip aside. For though a man in worldly things for wisdome be esteem'd, Yet if thy wisdom want in him, his is but folly deem'd. 42 THE HARMONIE OF THE CHURCH. Thou chosest me to be a King, to sit on royall throne, To iudge the folk which thou of right dost chalenge for thy own. Thou hast commanded me to build a Temple on thy hill. And Altar in the self same place, where thou thy selfe doost dwel, Euen like vnto thy Tabernacle in each kind of respect, A thing most holy, which at first thy selfe thou didst erect. Thy wisdome being stil with thee which vnderstands thy trade, When as thou framedst first the world, and her foundation laid ; Which knew the thing that most of all was pleasant in thy sight, Thy wil and thy commandements wherein thou takst delight : Send her down from that heauenly seat wheras she doth abide. That she may shew to me thy will, and be my onely guide; For she dooth know and vnderstand, yea, al things doth foresee, And by her works and mighty power I shall preserued bee. Then shal my works accepted be and liked in thy sight. When I vpon my fathers throne shall iudge thy folke aright. Who knoweth the counsell of the Lord, his deep and secret skil. Or who may search into his works, or know his holy will? For why? the thoughts of mortal men are nothing els but care. Their forecasts and deuises all things most vncertaine are. The bodie is vnto the soule a waight and burthen great, The earthly house depresseth down the mind with cares repleat. The things which here on earth remain we hardly can discern. To find their secret vse and trade with labor great we learne; For who doth search, or seek to know with traueill and with care The secrets of the mightie Lord, which hie in heauen are ? Who can thy counsels vnderstand, except thou doo impart Thy wisdome, and thy holy spirit doost send into his heart? For so the waies of mortal men reformed are, and taught The things that most delighteth thee, which wisdom forth haue brought. THE HARMONIE OP THE CHURCH. 43 A Song of Ihesus the sonne of Sirach. In the last Chap, of Ecclesiasticus. I WILL confesse thy name, Lord ! And giue thee praise with one accord : My God, my King, and Sauiour, Vnto thy name be thankes and power ! I haue bene succoured by thee. And thou hast still preserued me, And from destruction kept me long, And from report of slanderous tongue. From lips stil exercisde with lies. And from my cruell enemies. Thou me in mercie doost deliuer : Thy blessed name be praisde for euer ! From monsters that would me deuoure. From cruell tyrants and their power; In all affliction, paine, and griefe Thou succourest me with some reliefe. From the cruell burning flame, Poore I inclosde within the same, From the deepe infernall pit, From venom'd tongues that poison spit. From speeches that of malice spring, From accusation to the king; From all reproch and infamy. From slander and like villanie. r2 J<4 THE HARMONIE OF THE CHTJRCH. My soule, to death praise thou the Lord, And laud his name with one accord ; For death was readie thee to take, And thou neare the infernall lake. They compassed me round about, But there was none to helpe me out : I look'd when succour would appeare. But there was none that would come neare. Vpon thy mercies then I thought, And on the wonders thou hast wrought. How from destruction thou doost saue Such as in thee affiance haue. In praier then I did perseuer, That thou from death wouldst me deliuer : Vnto the Lord I crie and call. That he would rid me out of thrall. Therefore I still will praise thy name. And euer thanke thee for the same ; My praiers shall of thee be heard. And neuer from thy eares debard. Thou sau'st me from destruction. And other mischiefs more than one. Therefore wil I praise thee, Lord ! And in my songs thy name record. THE HABMONIE OF THE CHURCH. 45 The Praier of Hester for the deliuerance of her and her People. In the xiiii. Chap, of Hester. MIGHTY Lord ! thou art our God, to thee for aid I crie, To help a woman desolate, sith danger now is nie. Euen from my youth I oft haue hard my predecessors tel, That from amongst the nations all thou chosest Israeli, And chosest those our fathers were from theirs that went before, To be thine owne, and hast perform'd thy promise euermore. Now, Lord, we haue committed sin most grieuous in thine eies, Wherfore thou hast deliuered vs vnto our enemies ; Because that to their heathen gods with worship we haue gone, Knowing that thou art God the Lord, the righteous Lord alone: Yet not content nor satisfied with these our captiues bands, But with their Idols they theselues haue ioin'd & shaken hands, Quite to abolish and subuert what thou appointed hast. And this thine owne inheritance euen vtterly to waste. To shut and stop the mouthes of those that yeeld thee thanks and praise. Thy glorious temples to defile, thine Altars vp to raise. And to induce the heathen folke to laud their Idols might. To magnifie a fleshly King, a man, a mortall wight. Then let not such the Scepter sway whose glorie is of nought. Least they deride vs when that we to miserie are brought. And those deuises they haue wrought t' intangle vs withall, May turne vnto their owne decay, and on their heads may fall. Remember, Lord, and shew thy selfe to vs in time of need, And strengthen me, thou King of kings, & Lord of power indeed: Instruct my tongue with eloquence, my speaches to impart Before the lions face, and by thy wisdome turne his heart To hate our deadly enemies, so wholly bent to ill; Destroy him, and al such as doo consent vnto his will; 46 THE HARMONIE OF THE CHURCH. But let thy hand deliuer vs, and help and succour me, Sith I am now left comfortlesse, and haue no help but thee. Thou know'st right well all things, Lord ! & this thou knowest then, I hate the glory and the pomp of wicked sinful men. And vtterly detest the bed of any heathen wight, Vncircumcised, most vnpure, and odious in thy sight. Thou knowest my necessitie, and that with hate I beare This token of preheminence which on my head I weare. And as a filthy menstruous cloath I take thereof such shame, As, being by my selfe alone, I neuer weare the same : And that at Hamans table yet thy handmaid hath not fed, Nor tooke delight in princes feast, nor drank wine oifered ; And neuer ioi'd in any thing, since first I hether came Vntil this day, but in the Lord, thou God of Abraham ! Oh thou, the high and mightie God ! heare thou the voice and crie Of them, whose hope, whose trust, and stay only on thee doth lie; And now in need deliuer vs out of their cruell hand, And from the dread and feare, Lord ! wherin we dayly stand. The Praier of Mardocheus. In the xiii. Chap, of Hester. Oh Lord ! my Lord, that art the King of might. Within whose power all thinges their being haue, Who may withstand that liueth in thy sight. If thou thy chosen Israeli wilt saue? For thou hast made the earth and heauen aboue. And al things els that in the same do mooue. THE HARMONIE OF THE CHURCH. 47 Thou madest all things, and they are all thine own, And there is none that may resist thy will : Thou know'st all things, and this of thee is knowne, I did not erst, for malice nor for ill, Presumption, nor vaine glorie els at all. Come nor bow downe vnto proud Hamans call. I could haue bin content for Israels sake To kisse the soles euen of his verie feet, But that I would not mans vaine honor take Before Gods glorie, being so vnmeet, And would not worship none, (0 Lord!) but thee, And not of pride, as thou thy selfe doost see. Therefore, (oh Lord !) my God and heauenly king, Haue mercie on the people thou hast bought; For they imagine and deuise the thing How to destroy and bring vs vnto nought. Thine heritance, which thou so long hast fed. And out so far from Egypt land hast led. Oh ! heare my praier, and mercie doo extend Vpon thy portion of inheritance : For sorrowe now some ioy and solace send, That we may Hue thy glorie to aduance ; And suiFer not their mouthes shut vp, oh Lord ! Which stil thy name with praises doo record. i8 THE HARMOXIE OP THE CHUKCH. A Praier in the person of the Faithful!. The xxxvi. Chap, of Ecclesiasticus. Haue mercie on vs, blessed Lord, Which madest all thinges with thy word ; Behold vs, Sauiour, from aboue, Illuminate vs with thy loue : And let the wicked dread thy name, Which neuer sought vnto the same. And knowe that thou art God alone, And like (in woonders) to be none. Oh Lord ! lift vp thy mightie hand ; The world thy power shall vnderstand : As by vs thou art sanctified, By them so be thou magnified. That they may learne thy power to knowe, As we that be thy seruantes doo : Thou art the liuing Lord alone, And other Goddes besides thee none. Renew the signes, (Lord,) thou hast showne, And let thy woonderous woorks be knowne ; Declare the strength of thy right hand: Let them thy power vnderstand. Arise to iudgment in thine yre, Poure out thy wrath as hot as fire ; Destroy the cruell aduer'sarie : To spoile our foes (Lord) doo not tarie. THE HARMONIE OP THE CHURCH. 49 Shorten thou these wicked dales; Thinke on thine oath at all assaies : Let thy woonders (Lord) appeare, And be thou praised farre and neare. In burning fire, (Lord,) let them die Which doe escape and seek to ilie ; And let them perish with annoy Wliich seeke thy people to destroy. Cleaxie thou the heads of mighty kings, Our enemies in godly things ; And let the world behold and see That we are chosen vnto thee. Lord, gather lacob vnto thee, That they thy might and power may see. That they thy wondrous works may show, And to be thine themselues may know. Vnto thy folke impute no blame, Which euer cald vpon thy name : To Israel, Lord, be thou milde, Thy only heir, thy first borne child. Vnto lerusalem shew pi tie, Thy sanctuarie and thy citie. Blesse Sion where thy prophets liue ; Thy glorie to thy people giue. And be thou witnesse vnto those Which haue bene thine still to dispose, And raise them vp, oh Lord ! on hie, Wliich in thy name doo prophesie. G 50 THE HARMONIE OF THE CHURCH. Reward them, (Lord,) that waite for thee, That they thy prophets trueth may see : Heare thou thy seruants praier, oh Lord ! As thou to Aaron gauest thy word. Guide vs in way of righteousnesse : The earth thy glorie shall expresse; And to the world it shall be knowne, Thou art eternall and alone. A Praier of Tobias, exhortiag all men to praise the Lord. Tobias, Chap. xiii. Bless'd be that king which euermore shall raign ! So euer may his kingdome blessed be, Which punisheth and pittieth againe. Which sends to hell and likewise setteth free; Before whose presence may no creature stand, Xor any thing auoid his heauie hand. Ye children of his chosen Israeli, Before the Gentles stil confesse his name. With whom he hath appointed you to dwell, Euen there, (I say,) extol and laude his fame: He is a Lord and God most gracious. And still hath bene a father vnto vs. He wil scourge vs for our iniquitie, Yet mercie will he take on vs againe. And from those nations gathered shall we be, With whom as strangers now we do remaine, Yf in your harts he shal repentance find. And turne to him with zeale and willing mind. THE HAEMONIE OP THE CHURCH. 51 When as your dealings shall be found vpright, Then wil he turne his face from you no more, Nor thenceforth hide his presence from your sight, But lend his mercie then, laid vp in store. Therefore confesse his name, & praises sing To that most great and highest heauenly King. I will confesse him in captiuitie, And to a wicked people shewe his might. Oh ! turne to him, vile sinners that you be, And doo the thing is vpright in his sight : Who's there can tell if he will mercie showe. Or take compassion on you, yea or noe? I will extoll and laude thy name alwaies, My soule, the praise of heauens King expresse ; All tongues on earth shall spread abroad his praise. All nations shew foorth his righteousnesse. Jerusalem, thou shalt be scourged then. But he wil spare the sonnes of righteous men. Faile not to giue the Lord his praises due, And still extoll that euerlasting King; And help to build his Tabernacle newe. In which his Saints shall euer sit and sing. In which the captiues shall haue end of griefe, In which the poore shall euer find reliefe. Many shall come from countries far and neare. And shall great giftes vnto his presence bring : Many before his presence shall appeare, And shal reioice in this great heauenly King. Cursed be those which hate thy blessed name, But bless'd be those which loue & like the same. g2 52 THE HABMONIE OF THE CHURCH Triumph with ioy, ye that be good and iust; Though scattered now, yet shall you gathered be : Then, in the Lord fix all your hope and trust, And rest in peace till you these blessings see. Blessed be those which haue bin touch'd with griefe, When they haue seen thee scourg'd and want reliefe. Those only shall reioice with thee againe. And those shall be partakers of thy glorie. And shall in blisse for ay with thee remaine, Now passed once these troubles transitorie : Then, (oh my soule !) see thou reioice and sing. And laud the great and highest heauenly King. And he will build Jerusalem full faire AVith Emeralds and Saphyrs of great price ; With precious stones he will her walles repaire. Her towers of golde with worke of rare deuice ; And all her streetes with Berall will he paue. With Carbunckles and Ophirs passing braue. And all her people there shall sit and say, Praised be God with Aleluiah ! FINIS. NOTES TO THE HARMONIE OF THE CHURCH. p. 3, 1. 5. Either in the behalfe of my Countrie, or the place of my byrth.J Merivale, where Lady Jane Devereux resided, is a parish partly in the hundred of Spark- enhoe, Leicestershire, and partly in the hundred of Hemingford, Warwickshire, crossed by the Watling Street. It is very near the birth-place of Drayton, being only about a mile and a half west of Atherstone. P. 3, 1. 20. London, this 10. of Feb. 1590.] i. e. 1591, according to our present mode of calculating the year.. " Censure" in Drayton's time mea,nt judgment. P. 5, 1. 5. So exactly translated as the prose would permit, or sense would any way suffer me.J Drayton's own criticism on his own work must, of course, be taken with allowance; and we have, in several notes, assigned reasons for thinking that his praise was not altogether merited. The author never reprinted any portion of his labours in this field ; and he entirely suppressed one, if not two, early pro- ductions, and only adopted parts of a third. P. 8, 1. 30. And gave thee wine, thereof to drink thy fill.] Drayton's inferiority to his original is no where more apparent than in the loss of figurative expressions: the words in our authorised version are, " And thou didst drink the pure blood of the grape." Deut. ch. xxxii. v. 14. P. 10, 1. 22. Their grapes of gaule, clusters of bitternesse.] In the old copy the r in " bitternesse" is omitted. P. 11, 1. 19. Mine arrowes then of blood shall haue their fill.] " I will make mine arrows drunk with blood, and my sword shall devour flesh." Deut. ch. xxxii. V. 42. Drayton has sacrificed the image to the rhyme. P. 12, 1. 19. Thy owne right hand hath bruised al their bones.] The compulsion of verse often renders our poet's language tame and prosaic : — '' Thy right hand, Lord, hath dashed in pieces the enemy." Exod. ch. xv. v. 6. P. 12, 1. 24. And with a blast out of thy nostrilles.] It is evident that to render this line measure we must read " nostrilles" as a trisyllable — nosterUles. This was not unusual when our poet wrote. P. 13, 1. 20. And Palestina quake for all her pride.j This passage does not give us O-i THE HARMONIE OF THE CHTJBCH. the meaning of the original — " Sorrow shall take hold on the inhabitants of Palestina." (v. 14.) The people were rather to weep than to ''quake;" and the words " for all her pride " were added merely because the poet wanted a rhyme to " provide." P. 14, 1. 22. For why ? the glowing sunny raies discolloured haue my laire.J " Laire " is skin or complexion, from the Sax. Jtleare, facies. It is spelt in various ways by old writers, leer, leire, leyre, &c. Drayton's mode appears to have been regulated by the word with which he made it correspond in sound. P. 15, 1. 14. Or Camphere, that doth spring and grow in vine of Engady.J Our received version has it : " My beloved is unto me as a cluster of camphire in the vineyards of En-gedi." Drayton could not contrive to bring " vineyards'' into his line. P. 15, 1. 22. I am the fragrant Flower of braue vermilion hue. j Simply, in the original, " I am the rose of Sharon." Song of Sol. Chap. ii. v. 1. In the next line but one, " chyer" is probably a misprint for chyve or chive: a " chyve of grasse " is a blade of grass. P. 15, 1. 26. Or as the barren crooked stocke vnto the straightest tree.] By no means a literal rendering of the original, which is, " As the apple-tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow," &c. P. 16, 1. 1. To Celler he me brings of wine abundant store.] In our authorised version, for Drayton's prosaic "cellar," we have " banqueting-house ;" and the Hebrew literally gives " house of wine." v. 4. P. 16, 1. 8. Not once to stir nor wake my Loue, vntil she please to call.] Drayton has here changed the sex: in our authorised version it is, " stir not up nor awake my love, till he please." Chap. iii. v. 5. P. 16, 1. 20. The Vines with blossoms do abound, which yeeld a sweet accent.] Perhaps the only instance in our language in which " accent " is used for scent : — " And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell.'' Ch. ii. v. 13. The difficulty might easily have been avoided. P. 17, 1. 2. But al in vain; I could not find my Loue & friendly Fere.] " Fere," often spelt pAeer and/ee?-e, means companion: Sax. _/«ra. See also p. 22, 1. 3. P. 17, 1. 6. The watchman found me tho, to whom I then can say.] " Tho" is then, which occurs just afterwards; and " can say" was usually written " gan say." P. 17, 1. ir. Ye Jewish daughters, do not call my Loue till she doe wake.] Again Drayton has changed the sex : — " I charge you, ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please." Author, version, Ch. iii. v. 5. NOTES. 55 P. 17, 1. 16. All expert men of war, with sword stil ready prest.J " Prest" is ready; but '' ready prest" is not an uncommon pleonasm in old writers. P. 17,1. 19. A Pallace braue, whose pillars strong are al of siluer pure.] Our authorised version has it thus : " King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon,'' &c. V. 9. The marginal note is " or a ledr P. 18, 1. 15. From Sheners stately top, from Hermon hil so hie. J By the accidental turning of the letter n Drayton was made to call it " Sheuers stately top." P. 19, 1. 19. But him I could not find, nor he nould answer me at all.] " He nould " is he ne would, or would not. Our received version is, " But he gave me no answer." For " at all" the old copy, by a misprint, has " at at all. P. 19, 1. 26. In my beloueds face the Rose and Lilly striue.J So Thomas Deloney, in his ballad of Fair Rosamond, probably printed before 1590: — " As though the Lilly and the Rose For mastership did strive." Crown Garland, Edit. 1659, Sign. E 3 b. The original is merely, " My beloved is white and ruddy," v. 10. P. 20, 1. 7. Thou fairest of vs al, whether is thy louer gone ?] This and the next line, as it would seem, ought to form the opening of Chap, vi., and not the close of Chap. V. So it stands in our authorised version. P. 20, 1. 12. True am I to my loue, and he my louing make.] " Make " was often used for mate, especially when, as here, the rhyme required it P. 20, 1. 17. Thy haires are like a heard of Goats on Gilead mount that be.] Compare the same similes in the commencement of Chap. iv. p. 17- P. 22, 1. 21. But suffer her to take her rest so long as she shall please.] Here the gender is also altered — "her" for his, and "she" for he. The word "disease," in the preceding line, is common in old authors in the sense of disturb or annoy. P. 23, 1. 14. Two thousand likewise vnto them the which her keepers be. J It is a mere misprint, but "thousand" in the old copy stands twousand. On the next page, " pursude " is misprinted pusude. P.-23, 1. 19. The Song of Annah for the bringing foorth of Samuel her Sonne.] This specimen of versification only applies to the ten earlier verses of Chap. ii. of the first book of Samuel. P. 25, 1. 9. My soule consuming thus with care, I praied vnto the Lord.] The original is " When my soul fainted within me." Jonah, Chap. ii. v. 7. — In this chapter Drayton has deviated more than usual from the powerful simplicity of Scripture, and dealt 56 THE HAEMONIE OP THE CHURCH. in periphrasis. He was in distress for a rhyme, when he terminated the next line with the conventional words " with one accord." P. 26, 1. 4. The drie and barren wildernesse therto hj danger driues.] There seems something wrong, or at least uncouth, in the construction of this line : " We gat our bread with the peril of our lives, because of the sword of the wilderness." Lamentations, Chap. v. v. 9. P. 27, 1. 9. The mountains hie before the Lord haue melted euery del] " Del" here, in connexion with " mountains," may possibly be misunderstood : " every del" is every part or piece : it is an ancient form of deal. P. 27, 1. 15. They chose the gods ; then garboils did within the gates aboud.] " Garboils," meaning confusion and contests, is a word ridiculed by some writers of the time ; but Drayton uses it not unfrequently, as a very expressive term. " Then was war in the gates" is the language of the original. Judges, Chap. v. ver. 8. P. 28, 1. 2. From Zebulon which cunning Clarks and famous writers were.] The original says nothing about their cunning or fame : " And out of Zebulun they that handle the pen of the writer.'' Drayton was too a|)t to lengthen his line by needless epithets and expletives. P. 28, 1. 10. Before their foes, men in the field, aduanc'd themselues in fights. J The rhyme of the preceding line shews that " fights " ought to be in the plural, but in the old copy it is in the singular. P. 28, 1. 12. In Tanach plaine wheras the streame of swift Megido ran.J We have the Poet's, not the Bible's, authority here for the swiftness of the Megiddo. P 28, 1. 18. My soule, sith thou hast done thy part, be now of harty cheare.J The original of this line seems to be " O, my soul, thou hast trodden down strength." V. 21. Drayton could hardly have understood it. P. 28, 1. 28. Yea, butter in a lordly dish, which was full trick and trim, j How " a lordly dish" was to be " full trick and trim'' we are not told by Drayton, and certainly not by Scripture. These words are mere surplusage. P. 28, 1. 32. When through the teples of his head she naild him to the groiid.] " Shenaild him to the ground" is mere poetical license; and not very fortunate, since, if Sisera had been nailed to the ground, he could hardly have bowed and fallen, as we are told he did. With regard to the expression " and at her feet can fall," in the next line, see note to p. 17, 1. 6. P. 29, 1. 12. Or like the land which many a yeare hath bin in rest and peace.] Drayton seems here to have mistaken the narration of a fact for a poetical figure. In Scripture (Judges, Chap. v. ver. 31,) we are merely told, that after the death of NOTES. 57 Sisera "the land had rest forty years." The simile ought to end with the preceding line. P. 30, 1. 20. And from his hands a fulnesse did proceed.] The words of the original are here very imperfectly expressed: — " He had horns coming out of his hand." Habakkuk, Chap. iii. v. 4. P. 30, 1. 26. His vnknown pathes no man may vnderstand.J Plere the difficulty of the rhyme seems to have led Drayton somewhat to pervert the words of Scripture, which are, " his ways are everlasting." v. 6. P. 31, 1. 8. That thou camest forth in chariot hot as fire.J The words " hot as fire" were introduced for rhyme's sake : the original is " chariots of salvation." v. 8. P. 31, 1. 13. The mountains saw, and trembled for feare.J Here, as in many other places in old authors, " trembled" must be read as a trisyllable. In the next stanza but three (p. 32.) it is a dissyllable. P. 31, 1. 27. Wlao like a whyrl-wind came with the pretence.] i. e. with the intent . to " pretend" was frequently used for to intend. P. 32, 1. 7. For to reuenge when once the Lord is prest.] See note to p. 17, 1. 16. P. 32, 1. 24. In the xv. Chap, of the prophesie of Isaiah.] This reference is a mistake : it should be to the xxv. Chap. P. 33, 1. 9. Thou art a sure refuge against a shower.] Drayton's version is here poorer than usual : the original is " a refuge from the storm," and a " refuge against a shower " is feeble in the extreme; but the poet wanted " shower," as a rhyme to " tower" in' the next Hne but two. P. 34, 1. 10. As he that swimmeth stretcheth him at length.] Our versifier has here lost nearly all the wonderful beauty and appropriateness of the original image : " And he shall spread forth his hands in the midst of them, as he that swimmeth spreadeth forth his hands to swim," &c. v. 11. P. 34, 1. 19. In the xvi. Chap, of the prophesie of Isaiah.] Here again the reference is erroneous: it ought to be the xxvi. Chap. P. 35, 1. 8. And vnto dust he will their pride deface.] How grand is the simple re-dupli- cation of the Scripture here ! — " For he bringeth down them that dwell on high ; the lofty city he layeth it low ; he layeth it low, even to the ground : he bringeth it even to the dust." v. 5. This is all sacrificed by Drayton. P. 35, 1. 23. His chiefe delight is still to curse and ban.] To " curse" and to " ban " are nearly synonymous : the original has nothing of the one or of the other. P. 36, 1. 22. With their own bodies once shal rise againe.] This is perhaps hardly a H 58 THE HARMONIE OP THE CHURCH. correct rendering of the words, " Thy dead men shall live, together with my dead body shall they rise." v. 19. P. 37, 1. 12. To take reuenge on those which first the maidens wombe did tame.] A very needless expression, and wholly inadequate to the original — " who loosened the girdle of a maid to defile her." Judith, Chap. ix. v. 2. P. 38, 1. 3. Let all their force, their strength and power by thy might be abated.] Force, strength, and power are here merely the repetition of the same thing in different words: not so in Scripture : — "Throw down their strength in thy power, and bring down their force in thy wrath,'' &c. v. 8. P. 38, 1. 26. In song of thankes exactly pend, of sweet and noble verse.] Drayton here gives his notion of what the '' new psalm" (Judith, Chap. xvi. v. 2) should be: there are no corresponding words in the original. P. 39, 1. 2. With warlike men, a multitude of famous high renowne.] It is printed renowme in the old copy ; but the rhyme requires " renowne." Benowme is an ancient form of the word, but it ought obviously to be exploded in reprints where the old spelling is not to be exactly preserved. P. 39, 1. 4. And horsmen couered all the vales that lay the hilles below.] This is the very opposite of what we are told in v. 4. of the original: '' And tlieir horsemen have covered the hills." P. 39, 1. 27. The sons, which erst my daughters haue euen on their bodies born.] A very long line to express a very short phrase, viz. " the sons of the damsels " v. 12. This song in Drayton's hands is unusually pleonastic and wire-drawn. P. 40, 1. 8. Those will he loue, and stil impute amongst the good and iust.] Here " im- pute" may have been used for repute : neither word (with many others) is found in this part of Scripture. P. 40, 1. 12. Into their flesh, as shal consume them world without an end] It may be doubted whether here we ought not to read " world toithouten end " : withouten is a very old form of " without," when a third syllable was required. P. 40, 1. 22. By me with them whose sinne shall not depart.] In the original the Author ad- verts to his own sins — "And it pass not by my sins.'' Ecclesiasticus, Chap, xxiii. v. 2. P. 41, 1. 8 Who with desire daily serueth thee.] The word " desire" must here be read as three syllables. In the very next line, it is only a dissyllable. P. 41, 1. 25. And do not vnderstand at all what ought to be my guide.] i. e. on account of youth, a point Drayton omits — " And too young for the understanding of judgment and laws." Wisdom, Chap. ix. v. 5. NOTES. 59 P. 42, 1. 7. Thy wisdome being stil with thee which vnderstands thy trade.] A strange, and somewhat derogatory version of " And wisdom was with thee, which knoweth thy works," &c. v. 9. P. 42, 1. 22. The earthly house depresseth down the mind with cares repleat.] " With cares repleat" is an aiFected expression for " that museth of many things ;'' and as our authorised translation has " earthy tabernacle " for Drayton's " earthly house," the probability seems to be that the poet wrote earthy, which was mis- printed " earthly." P. 43, 1. 11. From lips still exercisde with Ues.] In the original copy the letter e, in the second syllable of " exercisde," has accidentally dropped out. P. 43, 1. 19. From the cruell burning flame. J It would be diiEcult to find flames that do not burn: for this piece of tautology we read in Scripture (Ecclesiasticus, Chap, li. V. 4) "From the choking of fire on every side:" — much more simple, and vastly more expressive. P. 44, 1. 2. And laud his name with one accord.] The unfortunate phrase " with one accord" has severe duty in these poems : besides various other places, we have already had it in the first stanza of this very song. P. 45, 1. 19. Thy glorious temples to defile, thine Altars vp to raise.] i. e. to raze up, or destroy. P. 47, 1. 15. For they imagine and deuise the thing J i. e. in the brief and forcible language of Scripture, " for their eyes are upon us." Esther, Chap. xiii. v. 15. P. 48, 1. 6. Illuminate vs with thy loue.] For this and the preceding hne Drayton ap- pears to have drawn upon his own resources, in order to complete the stanza : — " Have mercy upon us, O Lord God of all, and behold us" are the words in Ecclesiasticus, Chap, xxxvi. v. 1. P. 49, 1. 2. Think on thine oath at all assaies.] The expression "at all assaies" is equivalent to under all circumstances. P. 49, 1. 12. That we are chosen vnto thee.] Drayton appears to become more feeble, instead of gathering strength, as he proceeded : in the very next stanza he repeats the identical rhymes, as if even his mechanical facility failed him. II 2 THE SHEPHEAEDS GARLAND, Fashioned in nine Eglogs. ROWLANDS SACRIFICE to the nine Muses. Effugiunt auidos Carmina sola rogos. Imprinted at London for Thomas Woodcocke, dwelling in Pauls Churchyarde, at the signe of the black Beare. 1593. TO THE NOBLE, AND VALEROVS GENTLEMAN, MASTER ROBERT ItrBLEY: ENEIOHED WITH ALL VERTVES OE THE MINDE, AND WORTHY OE ALL HONORA- BLE DESERT. Your most affectionate, ■ and denoted . Michael Drayton. THE FIRST EGLOG. When as the ioyfull spring brings in the Summers sweete reliefe, Poore Rowland, malcontent, hewayles the winter of his griefe. Now Phoebus, from the equinoctiall Zone, Had task'd his teame vnto the higher spheare, And from the brightnes of his glorious throne, Sends forth his Beames to light the lower ayre : The cheerfull welkin, comen this long look'd hower, Distils adowne full many a siluer shower. Fayre Philomel, night-musicke of the spring, Sweetly recordes her tunefuU harmony, And with deepe sobbes, and dolefuU sorrowing. Before fayre Cinthya actes her Tragedy: The Throstlecock, by breaking of the day, Chants to his sweete full many a lonely lay. 66 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. The crawling snake, against the morning sunne, Now streaks him in his rayn-bow coloured cote : The darkesome shades as loathsome he doth shunne, Inchanted with the Birds sweete siluan note. The Buck forsakes the launds where he hath fed, And scornes the hunt should view his veluet head. Through all the partes dispersed is the blood, The lustie spring, in flower of all her pride, Man, bird, and beast, and fish in pleasant flood, Eeioycing all in this most ioyfull tide : Saue Rowland, leaning on a Eanpick tree O'rgrowne with age, forlorne with woe was he. OhblessgdJ'an ! thou shepheards god, sayth he, ! thou Creator of the starrie light, Whose wonderous workes shew thy diuinitie ; Thou wise inuentor of the day and night, Eefreshing nature with the louely spring. Quite blemisht erst with stormy winters sting. ! thou strong builder of the firmament. Who placedst Phoebus in his fierie Carre, And by thy mighty Godhead didst inuent The planets mansions that they should not iarre, Ordeyning Phebe, mistresse of the night. From Tytans flame to steale her forked light. Euen from the cleerest christall shining throne, Vnder whose feet the heauens are low abased, Commaunding in thy maiestie alone. Whereas the fiery Cherubimes are placed, Receiue my vowes as incense vnto thee. My tribute due to thy etemitie. THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 67 shepheards soueraigne ! yea, receiue in gree The gushing teares from neuer-resting eyes, And let those prayers, which I shall make to thee, Be in thy sight perfumed sacrifice : Let smokie sighes be pledges of contrition, For follies past to make my soules submission. Submission makes amends for all my misse ; Contrition a refined life begins : Then sacred sighes what thing more precious is ? And prayers be oblations for my sinnes : Eepentant teares, from heauen-beholding eyes. Ascend the ayre, and penetrate the skies. My sorrowes waxe, my ioyes are in the wayning. My hope decayes, and my despayre is springing, My loue hath losse, and my disgrace hath gaynirig, Wrong rules, desert with teares her hands sits wringing : Sorrow, despayre, disgrace, and wrong, doe thwart My loy, my loue, my hope, and my desert. Deuouring time shall swallow vp my sorrowes. And strong beliefe shall torture black despairs; Death shall orewhelme disgrace in deepest furrowes. And Justice laie my wrongs vpon the Beere : Thus Justice, death, beleefe and time, ere long, Shall end my woes, despayre, disgrace, and wrong. Yet time shall be expir'd and lose his date, And full assurance cancell strongest trust; Eternitie shall trample on deathes pate. And Justice shall surcease when all be iust : Thus time, beleefe, death, Justice, shall surcease. By date, assurance, eternity, and peace. i2 68 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. Thus breathing from the Center of his soule The tragick accents of his extasie, His sun-set eyes gan here and there to roule, Like one surprisde with sodaine lunacie; And being rouzde out of melancholly, Flye, whirle-winde thoughts, vnto the heauens, quoth he. Now in the Ocean Tytan quencht his flame, And summond Cinthya to set vp her light : The heauens with their glorious starry frame, Preparde to crowne the sable-vayled night. When Rowland from this time consumed stock, With stone-colde hart, now stalketh towards his flock. Quid queror ? Sf toto facio conuicia ccelo : Dii quoq; habent oculos, di quoq; pectus hahent. THE SHEPHEABDS GABLAND. 69 THE SECOND EGLOG. Wynken of mans frayle wayning age declares the simple truth ; And doth by Rowlands harmes reprooue Mottos vnhrideled youth. Motto. Might my youths mirth delight thy aged yeeres, My gentle shepheard, father of vs all, Wherewith I whylome loy'd my louely feeres. Chanting sweete straines of heauenly pastorall. Now would I tune my miskins on this Greene, And frame my muse those vertues to vnfold Of that sole Phenix Bird, my lines sole Queene, Whose locks done staine the three times burnisht gold. But melancholie grafted in thy Braine, My Eimes seeme harsh to thy vnrelisht taste : Thy.droughthy wits, not long refresht with raigne, Parched with heat, done wither now and waste. Wynken. Indeed, my Boy, my wits been all forlorne. My flowers decayd with winter- withered frost : My clowdy set eclips'd my cheerful! morne. That lewell gone wherein I ioyed most. 70 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. My dreadful thoughts been drawen vpon my face In blotted lines with ages iron pen : The lothlie morpheu safironed the place, Where beuties damaske daz'd the eies of men. A cumber-world, yet in the world am left A fruitles plot, with brambles ouergrowne; Misliued man of my vVorlds ioy bereft, Hart-breaking cares the ofspring of my mone. Those daintie straines of my well tuned reed, Which manie a time haue pleas'd my wanton eares, Nor sweet, nor pleasing thoughts in me done breed, But tell the follies of my wandring yeares. Those poysned pils been biding at my hart. Those loathsome drugs of my youths vanitie : Sweete seem'd they once, ful bitter now and tart, Ay me ! consuming corosiues they be. Motto. Euen so I weene, for thy olde ages feuer Deemes sweetest potions bitter as the gall, And thy colde Pallat, hauing lost her sauour, Receiues no comfort in a cordiall. Wynken. As thou art now was I, a gamesome boy, Though staru'd with wintred eld as thou do'st see ; And well I knoy_v_thy azvall&v.¥-w4.-age€l ioy " "ShalfeeTorgo tten, as^it is in me. When on the Arche of thine eclipsed eies Time hath ingrau'd deepe characters of death. And sun-burnt age thy kindlie moisture dries, Thy wearied lungs be niggards of thy breath ; THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 71 Thy bravvne-falne armes, thy camock -bended backe, The time-plovv'd furrovves in thy fairest field, The Southsaiers of natures vvofuU wrack, When blooming age must stoope to starued eld ; When Lillie white is of a tawnie die. Thy fragrant crimson turn'd ash- coloured pale. Thy skin orecast with rough embroderie. And cares rude pencell quite disgrac'd thy sale; When downe-beds heat must thawe thy frozen cold. And luke-warme brothes recure Phlebotomie, And when the bell is readie to be tol'd, To call the wormes to thine Anatomie, Eemember then, my boy, what once I said to thee. Now am I like the knurrie-bulked Oke, WKome wasting eld £ath made a toombe ofdust ; Whose wind-fallen branches feld by tempest stroke, His barcke consumes with canker-wormed rust. And though thou seemst like to the bragging bryer, As gay"asT.s^ the mommgrHarygolde, Yet shortly shall thy sap be drie and seere. Thy gaudy Blossomes blemished with colde. Euen such a wanton, an vnruly swayne, Was little Rowland, when of yore as he, Vpon the Beechen tree on yonder playne, Carued this rime of loues Idolatrie. The Gods delight, the heatiens hie spectacle, Earths greatest glory, worlds rarest miracle. 72 THE SHEPHEABDS GARLAKD. Fortunes fayr'st mistresse, vertues surest guide, Loues Gouernesse, and natures chief est pride. Delights owne darling, honovrs cheefe defence. Chastities choyce, and wisdomes quintessence. Conceipts sole Riches, thoughts only treasure, Desires true hope, loyes sweetest pleasure . Mercies due merite, valeurs iust reward, Times fayrest fruite, fames strongest guar de. Yea, she alone, next that eternall he, The expresse Image of eternitie. Motto. Oil diuine loue ! which so aloft canst raise, And lift the minde out of this earthly mire, And do'st inspire the pen with so hie prayse, As with the heauens doth equal mans desire. Thou lightning flame of sacred Poesie, Whose furie doth incense the swelling braines, As drawes to thee, by heauen-bred Sympathie, The sweete delights of highest soaring vaines ; / Who doth not helpe to deck thy holy Shrine I With Mirtle, and triumphant Lawrell tree? I Who will not say that thou art most diuine, Or who doth not confesse thy deitie? , Wynken. \ A, foolish boy ! full ill is he repay ed, I For now the wanton pines in endles paine, : And sore repents what he before missaide : So may they be which can so lewdly faine. THE SHBPHEARDS GARLAND. 73 Now hath this yonker torne his tressed lockes, And broke his pipe which sounded erst so sweete, Forsaking his companions and their flocks, And casts his gayest garland at his feete. And being shrowded in a homely cote, And full of sorrow as a man might be. He tun'd his Kebeck with a mournfull note, And thereto sang this dolefull elegie. Tell me, fayre flocke (if so you can conceauej 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! honoured of mine eyes, Yet sdaynst mine eyes should gaze vpon thy light, Bright morning sunne, who with thy sweet arise ExpelVst the clouds of my harts lowring night, 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 devotions ? Then, Orphane thoughts, with sorrow be you waind, WJien hues Religion shalbe thus prophayri d. Yet needes the earth must d,roupe with visage sad. When siluer dewes been turned to bitter stormes, Tlie Cheereful Welkin, once in sables clad. Her froivnes foretell poore humaine creatures harmes. K 74 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. And yet for all to make amends for this. The clouds sheed teares, and weepen at my misse. Motto. -Woe's me for him that pineth so in payne. Alas, poore Rowland ! how it pities me So faire a baite should breed so foule a bayne, Or humble shewes should couer crueltie. Winken. Beware by him, thou foolish wanton svvayne ; By others harmes thus maist thou learne to heede. Beautie and wealth been fraught with hie disdaine : Beleeue it as a Maxim of thy Creede. Motto. If that there be such woes and paines in loue, Woe be to him that list the same to proue. Wynhen. Yes, thou shalt find, if thou desir'st to proue. There is no hell vnto the paines in loue. THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 75 THE THIRD EGLOG. Rowland and Ferkin, both Ifeere, in field vpon a day, With little Robin redbrests Round, doe passe the time away. Perkin. Rowland, for shame ! awake thy drowsie muse: Time plaies the hunts-vp to thy sleepie head. Why li'st thou here as thou hadst long been dead, foule idle swayne? Who euer heard thy pipe and pleasing vaine. And doth but heare this scurrill minstralcy, These noninos of filthie ribauldry, that doth not muse ? Then slumber not with foule Endymion, But tune thy reede to dapper virelayes, And sing a while of blessed Betas prayse, faire Beta she : ' "~ ~~ In thy sweete song so blessed may'st thou bee, For learned Collin laies his pipe to gage, And is to tayrie gone a Pilgrimage : the more our mone. e:2 76 THE SHEPHEAEDS GAULAND. Rowland. What, Beta ! shepheard, she is Pans belou'd : Faire Betas praise beyond our straine doth stretch ; Her notes too hie for my poore pipe to reach, poore oten reede, So farre vnfit to speake of worthies deede ; But set my stops vnto a lower kay. Whereas a horne-pipe I may safelie play, yet vnreproou'd. With flatterie my muse could neuer fage, Nor could affect such vaine scurrility, To please lewd Lorrels in their foolery, too base and vile : Nor but a note yet will I raise my stile, My selfe aboue Will Piper to aduance. Which so bestirs him at the morris dance, for pennie wage. Perkin. Rowland, so toyes oft times esteemed are. And fashions euer changing with the time, Then frolick it a while in lustie rime, with mirth and glee : And let me heare that Roundelay of thee^ Which once thou sangst to me in laneueer, When Robin-redbrest, sitting on a breere, the burthen bare. Rowland. Well, needes I must, yet with a heauie hart : But were not Beta, sure I would not sing, Whose praise the ecchoes neuer cease to ring vnto the skies. THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 77 Pirken. Be blith, good Rowland, then, and cleere thine eyes: And now, sith Eobin to his roost is gone. Good Eowland then supplie the place alone, and shew thy arte. thoufayre siluer Thames ! 6 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 ^ chant our Betas prayse : And let vs sing so rare a verse, Our Betas prayses to rehearse. That little Birds shall silent be to heare poore shepheards sing, And riuers backward bend their course, ^ 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 help you with her lay. The Osel Sf the Throstlecoche, chief e musick of our maye. ! see what troups of Nimphs been sporting on the strands. And they been blessed Nimphs of peace, with Oliues in their hands. 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. 78 THE SHEPHEABDS GARLAND. Trim vp her Golden tresses with Apollos sacred tree : ! happy sight vnto all those that hue and honor thee. The Blessed Angels haue prepared A glorious Crowne for thy reward; Not such a golden Crowne as haughtie Ccesar weaves, But such a glittering starry Crowne as Ariadne beares. Make her a goodly Chapilet of azur'd Colombine, And wreath about her Coronet with sweetest Eglentine : Bedeck our Beta all loith Lillies, And the dayntie Daffadillies, With Roses damask, white, and red, and fairest flower delice, With Cowslips of Jerusalem, and cloues of Paradice. ! thou fayre torch of heauen, the dayes most deerest light. And thou bright- shy ning Cinthya, the glory of the night; You starres, the eyes of heauen. And thou the glyding leuen, And thou, 6 gorgeous Iris ! with all strange Colours dyed, When she streams foorth her rayes, then dasht is all your pride. See how the day stands still, admiring of her face, And time, he! 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 bilhwes 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; Lawrellfor 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 ^ tempests cease. THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 79 VVee'l straw the shore with pearle where Seta walks alone, And we wil pane her princely Bower with richest Indian stone : Perfume the ayre and make it sweete, For such a Godesse it is meete; For if her eyes for purity contend with Tytans light. No maruaile then although they so doe dazell humaine sight. Sound out your trumpets, then, from London's stately towres, To beat the stormie windes a back Sf calme the raging shoxores : 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 yerely sacrifice. And long thy sacred Temples may their Saboths solemnize; Thy shepheards watch by day and night. Thy Mayds attend the holy light, And thy large empyre stretch her armes from east vnto the ivest, And thou vnder thy feet mayst tread that foule seuen-headed beast. Perken. Thanks, gentle Rowland, for my Eoundelay, And bless'd be Beta, burthen of thy song : The shepheards Goddesse may she ilorish long, 6 happie she ! Her yeares and dayes thrice doubled may they bee. Triumphing Albion, clap thy hands for ioy, And pray the heauens may shield her from anoy ; so will I pray. 80 THE SHEPHEARDS &AELAND. Rowland. So doe; and when my milk-white eawes haue yeande, Beta shall haue the firstling of the foulde. rie burnish all his homes with finest gould, and paynt his fleece with purple grayne. Perken. Beleeue me, as I am true shepheards swayne, Then for thy loue all other I forsake, And vnto thee my selfe I will betake with fayth vnfayn'd. Ipse ego thura dabo, fumosis candidus aris : Ipse feram ante tuos munera vota pedes. THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 81 THE FOVRTH EGLOG. Wynken bewayleth Elphins losse, the God of Poesie, with Rowlands rime, ecleeped the teares of the greene Hawthorne tree. Gorho. Well met, good Wynken, whither doest thou wend ? How hast thou far'd, sweet shepherd, many a yeer? May Wynken thus his dales in darkenes spend. Who I haue knowne for piping had no peere? Where been those fayre flocks thou wert wont to guide? What! been they dead? or hap'd on some mischance, Or mischiefe hath their master else betide ? Or Lordly Loue hath cast thee in a trance ? What man ! lets still be merie whilst we may, And take a truce with sorrow for a time; And let vs passe this wearie winters day. In reading Riddles, or in making rimle. Wynken. Ah ! woe's me, Gorbo, mirth is farre away; Mirth may not soiourne with black malcontent: The lowring aspect of this dismall day The winter of my sorrow doth augment. L S2 THE SHEPHEAEDS GAELAND. My song is now a swanne-like dying song, And my conceipts, the deepe conceipts of death : My heart becom'n a very hell of wrong, My breast the irksome prison of my breath. I loth my life, I loth the dearest light; Com'n is my night, when once appeeres the day. The blessed sunne seemes odious in my sight: No song may like me but the shreech-owles lay. Gorbo. What mayst thou be that old Wynkin de word. Whose thredbare wits, o'rworne with melanchoUy, Once so delightsome at the shepheards boord. But now forlorne with thy selues self- wild folly? I think thou dot'st in thy gray-bearded age. Or, brusd with sinne, for thy youths sin art sory. And vow'st for thy a solemne pilgrimage To holy HayleSj or Patricks Purgatory. Come, sit we downe vnder this Hawthorne tree : The morrowes light shall lend vs dale enough. And tell a tale of Gawen or Sir Guy, Of Eobin Hood, or of good Clem a Clough. Or else some Eomant vnto vs areed, Which good olde Godfrey taught thee in thy youth. Of noble Lords and Ladies gentle deede. Or of thy loue, or of thy lasses truth. VVinken. Gorbo, my Comfort is accloyd with care; A new mishap my wonted ioyes hath crost : Then, meruaile not although my musicke iarre. When she the Author of her mirth hath lost. THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 83 Elphin is dead, and in his graue is laid, Our lines delight whilst lonely Elphin lined. What cruell fate hath so the time betraid, The widow world of all her ioyes depriued ? cnrsed death ! Lines fearfuU enemie. Times poysned sickle, Tyrants reuenging pride; Thon blood-sucker, thou childe of infamie, Deuonrlng Tiger, slaughtering homicide, 111 hast thou done, and ill may thee betide. Naught hast thou got : the earth hath wonne the most , Nature is payd the interest of her due ; Pan hath receau'd, what him so dearly cost: heauens ! his vertues doe belong to you. A heauenly clowded in a humaine shape, Rare substance in so rough a barcke Iclad : Of Pastorall the liuely springing sappe. Though mortall thou, thy fame immortall made. Spel-charming Prophet, sooth -diuining seer, ! heauenly musicke of the highest spheare ; Sweet sounding trump, soule-rauishing desire, Thou stealer of mans hearty inchanter of the eare. God of Inuention, Tones deere Mercury, loy of our Lawrell, pride of all our ioy : The essence of all Poets diuinitie. Spirit of Orpheus, Pallas lonely boy. But all my words shalbe dissolu'd to teares, And my tears fountaines shall to riuers grow ; These Kiuers to the floods of my dispaires. And these shall make an Ocean of my woe. l2 84 THE SilEPHEARDS GARLAND. His rare desarts shall kindle my desire With burning Zeale, the brands of mine vnrest : My sighes, in adding sulphure to this fire, Shall frame another ^tna in my breast. Planets, reserue your playnts till dismall day: The ruthles rockes but newly haue begonne. And when in drops they be dissolu'd away, Let heauens begin to weepe when earth hath done. Then, time thy pipe, and I will sing a laye Vpon his death by Rowland of the rocke. Sitting with me, this other stormy day, In yon fayre field, attending on our flock. Gorbo. This shall content me, Wynken, wondrous well, And in this mistie wether keepe vs waking. To heare of him, who whylome did excell. In such a song of learned Rowlands making. Melpomine, put on thy mourning Gaberdine, And set thy song vnto the dulefull 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, maske your fayre Br owes. And beat your breasts to chyme his burying peale. THE SHEPHEABDS GARLAND. 85 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 endles mone, from vs why art thou gone, To fill up that sweete Angels quier in heauen ? ! whylome thou thy lasses dearest hue, When with greene Lawrell she hath crowned thee, Immortall 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. Oh loicked world, so mutable and transitory ! ! dismall day, bereauer of delight, 0! stormy winter, sourse of all our sorrow, I most vntimely and eclipsed morrow, to rob vs quite of all delight. Darkening that starre lohich euer shone so bright! Oh Elphin, Elphin ! Though thou hence be gone. In spight of death yet shalt thou Hue for aye : Tliy Poesie is garlanded with Baye ; and still shall blaze thy lasting prayse, Whose losse poore shepherds euer shall bemone. 86 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 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 fioche on yonder heauenly playne : Come and behold yon louely shepheards swayne, piping his Jill, on yonder hill. Tasting sweete Nectar, and Ambrosia. Gorbo. Oh ! how thy plaints (sweete friend) renew my payne, In listning thus to thy lamenting cries ; That from the tempest of my troubled brayne, See how the floods been risen in mine eyes. And being now a full tide of our teares, It is full time to stop the streame of griefe, Lest, drowning in the floods of our despaires, We want our Hues, wanting our soules reliefe. But now the sunne beginneth to decline, And whilest our woes been in repeating here, Yon little eluish moping Lamb of mine, Is all betangled in yon crawling Brier. Optima prima ferh manibus rapiuntur auaris : Implentur numeris deteriora suis. THE SHEPHEAKDS G-ARLAND. 87 THE FIFTH EGLOG. This lustie swayne his lowly quill to higher notes doth rayse, And in Ideas person paynts his louely'Tasses prayse. Motto. Come frolick it a while, my lustie swayne, Let's see if time haue yet reui'd in thee, Or if there be remayning but a grayne Of the olde stocke of famous poesie, Or but one slip yet left of this same sacred tree. Or if reseru'd from elds deuouring rage, Kecordes of vertue, Aye memoriall. Left to the world as learnings lasting gage ; Or if the prayse of worthy pastorall. May tempt thee now, or mooue thee once at all. To Fortunes Orphanes Nature hath bequeath'd That mighty Monarchs seldome haue possest : From highest Heauen this influence is breath'd, A most diuine impression in the breast; And those whom Fortune pines doth Nature often feast-. 88 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. Ti's not the troupes of payuted Imagerie, Nor these worlds Idols, our worlds Idiots gazes, Our forgers of suppos'd Gentillitie, When he his great great Grand-sires glory biases, And paints out fictions in base coyned Phrases. For honour nought regards nor foUoweth fame, These silken pictures shewed in euery streete : Of Idlenes comes euill, of pride ensueth shame, And black obliuion is their winding sheete, And all their glory troden vnder feete. Though Enuie sute her seuen-times poysned dartes, Yet purest golde is seuen times try'd in fier : True valeur lodgeth in the lowlest harts ; Vertue is in the minde, not in th' attyre, Nor stares at starres, nor stoups at filthy myre. Roioland. I may not sing of such as fall, nor clyme, Nor chaunt of armes, nor of heroique deedes ; It fltteth not poore shepheards rurall rime. Nor is agreeing with my oaten reedes. Nor from my quill grosse flatterie proceedes. Vnfitting tearmes, nor false dissembling smiles. Shall in my lines, nor in my stile appeare, Worlds fawning fraud, nor like deceitful! guiles : No, no, my muse, none such shall soiourne here, Nor any bragges of hope, nor signes of base despaire. No fatall dreades, nor fruitles vaine desires. Nor caps, nor curtsies to a paynted wall ; Nor heaping rotten sticks on needles fires, Ambitious thoughts to clime, nor feares to fall, A minde voyd of mistrust, and free from seruile thral. THE SHEPHEAEDS GARLAND. 89 Foule slander thou, suspitions Bastard Child, Selfe-eating Impe from vipers poysned wombe, Foule swelling toade with lothly spots defil'd, Vile Aspis bred within the ruinde tombe, Eternall death for euer be thy doombe. Still be thou shrouded in blacke pitchie night, Luld with the horror ot night-rauens song : Let foggie mistes clowd and eclipse thy light. Thy wooluish teeth chew out thy venomd tongue ; With Snakes and adders be thy body stohg. MoUo. Nor these, nor these may like thy lowlie quill, As of too hie, or of too base a straine, Vnfltting thee, and sdeyned of thy skill, Nor yet according with a shepheards vayne ; Nor no such subiect may beseeme a swayne. Then, tune thy reede vnto Ideas prayse. And teach the woods to wonder at her name : Thy lowlie. notes here mayst thou learne to rayse. And make the ecchoes blazen out her name. The lasting trumpe of Phebes lasting fame. Thy Temples then shall with greene bayes be dight: Thy Egle-soring muse vpon her wing. With her fayre siluer wings shall take her flight, To that hie welked tower where Angels sing, From thence to fetch the tutch of her sweete string. Rowland, Oh hie inthronized Joue ! in thy Olympicke raigne ; Oh battel-waging Marte ! oh sage-saw'd Mercury ! M 90 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. Oh Golden-shrined Sol ! Venus loues soueraigne ; Oh dreadful! Saturne ! flaming aye with furie, Moyst-humord Cinthya, Author of Lunacie, Gonioyne helpe to erect our faire Ideas trophie. Oh Tresses of faire Phoebus stremed die ! Oh blessed load-starre lending purest light ! Oh Paradice of heauenly tapistrie ! Angels sweete musick, 6 my soules delight ! fayrest Phebe, passing euery other light ! Whose presence ioyes the earths decayed state, Whose counsels are registred in the sphere, Whose sweete reflecting clearenes doth amate The starrie lights, and makes the Sunnd more fayre. Whose breathing sweete perfumeth all the ayre. Thy snowish necke, fayre Natures tresurie, Thy swannish breast, the heauen of lasting blisse. Thy cheekes, the bancks of Beauties vsurie. Thy heart, the myne where goodnes gotten is. Thy lips, those lips which Cupid ioyes to kisse. And those fayre hands within whose louely palmes Fortune diuineth happie Augurie; Those straiglitest fingers, dealing heauenly almes. Pointed with pur'st of Natures Alcumie, Where loue sits looking in loues palmistrie. And those faye luorie columnes, which vpreare That Temple built by heauens Geometric, And holiest Flamynes sacrifizen theare "\^nto that heauenly Queene of Chastitie, Where vertues burning lamps can neuer quenched be. THE SHEPHEAKDS GARLAND. 91 Thence see the fairest light that euer shone, That cleare which doth worlds cleerenes quite surpasse ; Braue Phoebus, chayred in his golden throane. Beholding him in this pure Christall glasse. See here the fayrest fayre that euer was. Delicious fountaine, liquid christalline, Mornings vermilion, verdant spring-times pride; Purest of purest, most refined fine, With crimson tincture curiously Idy'd ; Mother of Muses, great Apollos bride. Earths heauen, worlds wonder, hiest house of fame, Eeuiuer of the dead, eye killer of the liue. Belou'd of Angels, Vertues greatest name, Fauors rar'st feature, beauties prospectiue : Oh that my verse thy vertues could contriue ! That stately Theater, on whose fayre stage Each morall vertue actes a princely part. Where euery scene, pronounced by a Sage, Eternizeth diuinest Poets arte, Joyes the beholders eyes, and glads the hearers hart. The worlds memorials, that sententious booke, ' Where euery Comma points a curious phrase, Vpon whose method Angels ioye to looke: At euery Colon Wisdomes selfe doth pause, And euery Period hath his hie applause. Eead in her eyes a Eomant of delights ; Read in her words the prouerbs of the wise ; Read in her life the holy vestall rites, Wlrich loue and vertue sweetly moralize. And she the Academ of vertues exercise. M 2 92 THE SHEPHEAKDS GABLAND. But on thy volumes who is there may comment, When as thy selfe hath Arts selfe vndermined ? Or vndertake to coate thy learned margent, When learnings lines are euer enterlined, And purest words are in thy mouth refined? Knewest thou thy vertues, oh thou fayr'st of fayrest ! Thou earths sole Phenix, of the world admired, Vertue in thee repurify'd and rarest, Whose endles fame by time is not expired. Then of thy selfe would thy selfe be admired. But arte wants arte to frame so pure a Myrror, Where humaine eyes may view thy vertues beautie ; When fame is so surprised with the terror, Wanting to pay the tribute of her duetie : With colours who can paint out vertues beautie? But since vnperfect are the perfects colours. And skill is so vnskilfull how to blaze thee, Now will I make a myrror of my dolours, And in my teares, then, looke thy selfe and prayse thee. Oh happy I, if such a glasse might please thee ! Goe, gentle windes, and whisper in her eare. And tell Idea how much I adore her ; And thou, my flock, reporte vnto my fayre How she excelleth all that went before her: Tell her the very foules in ayre adore her. And thou cleare Brooke, by whose fayre siluer streame Grow those tall Okes where I haue caru'd her name, Conuay her praise to Neptunes watery Kealme, Eefresh the rootes of her still growing fame. And teach the Dolphins to resound her name. THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 93 Motto. Cease, shepheard, cease: reserue thy Muses store, Till after time shall teach thy Oaten reede Aloft in ayre with Egles wings to sore, And sing in honor of some worthies deede, To serue Idea in some better steede. She sees not, shepheard, no, she will not see, Her rarest vertues blazoned by thy quill. Nor knowes the effect the same hath wrought in thee. The very tuch and anuile of thy skill; And this is that which bodeth all thy ill. Yet if her vertues glorie shall decay. Or if her beauties flower shall hap to fall, Or any cloud eclipse her sun-shine day, Then looks (Idea) in thy pastorall. And thou thy vertues vnto minde shalt call. Roiuland. Shepheard, farewell: the skies begin to lowre; Yon pitchie clowd which hangeth in the West, I feare me, doth presage some sodaine showre. Come, let vs home, for so I think it best, For all our flocks been laid them downe to rest. Motto. And if thou list to come vnto my Coate, Although (God knowes) my cheere be to too small, And wealth with me was neuer yet afloate, Yet take in gree what euer doe befall ; And wee will sit and sing a mery madrigall. 94 THE SHEPHBARDS GAHLAND. Rowland. Per superos iuro testes, pompamque Deorwn, Te Dominam nobis tempus in omne fore. MoUo. Nos quoque per totum pariter cantabimur orbem. Junctdque semper erunt nomina nostra tuis. THE SHBPHEARDS GARLAND. 96 THE SIXT EGLOG. Good Gorbo cals to mind the fame of our old Ancestrie : And Per kin sings Pandoras prayse, The Muse of Britanye. ' Perkin. All haile good Gorbo, yet return'd at last. What tell me, man, how goes the world with thee? What, is it worse then it was wont to be, Or been thy youthfull dayes already past ? Haue patience, man; for Avealth will come and goe, And to the end the world shall ebbe and flowe. The valiant man, whose thoughts on hie been placed. And sees sometime how fortune list to rage, With wisdome still his actions so doth gage, As with her frownes he no whit is disgraced; And when she fawnes, and turnes her squinting eye, Bethinks him, then, of her inconstancie. When as the Cullian, and the viler Clowne, Who with the swine on drafFe sets his desire, And thinks no life to wallowing in the myre. In stormie tempest dying layes him downe; Yet tasting weale, the asse begins to bray, And feeling woe, the beast consumes away. 96 THE SHEPHEARDS GABLAND. Gorbo. So said the Sage in his Philosophic : The Lordly hart, inspir'd with noblesse, With courage doth his crosses still suppresse; His patience doth his passions mortifie, when other folke this paine cannot endure, because they want this med'cine for their cure. Perkin. And yet oft times the world I doe admire. When as the wise and vertuous men I see Be hard beset with neede and pouertie, And lewdest fooles to highest things aspire, what should I say ? that fortune is to blame ? or vnto whome should I impute this shame? Gorbo. Vertue and Fortune neuer could agree : Foule Fortune euer was faire vertues foe, Blinde Fortune blindly doth her gifts bestowe, But vertue wise, and wisely doth foresee: they fall which trust to fortunes fickle wheele, but staled by vertue, men shall neuer reele. Perkin. If so, why should she not be more regarded? Why should men cherish vice and villanie. And maintaine sinne and basest rogerie. And vertue thus so slightly be rewarded? this shevves that we full deepe dissemblers be, and all we doe but meere hypocrisie. THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 97 Gorho. Where been those Nobles, Perkin, where been they? Where been those worthies, Perkin, which of yore This gentle Ladie did so much adore, And for her Impes- did with such care puruey? they been yswadled in their winding sheete, and she (I thinke) is buried at their feete. Oh worthy world ! wherein those worthies liued : Vnworthy world of such men so vnworthy: Vnworthy age, of all the most vnworthy, Which art of these so worthy men depriued : and inwardly in vs is nothing lesse. Than outwardly that which we most professe. PerKn. Nay stay, good Gorbo; Vertue is not dead. Nor all her friends be gone which wonned here : She Hues with one who euer held her deere. And to her lappe for succour she is fled : In her sweete bosome she hath built her nest, And from the world, euen there, she Hues at rest. Vnto this sacred Ladie she was left (To be an heire-loome) by her ancestrie. And so bequeathed by their legacie. When on their death -bed life was them bereft; And as on earth together they remayne, Together so in heauen they both shall raigne. Oh thou Pandora ! through the world renoun'd. The glorious light, and load-starre of our West ; With all the vertues of the heauens possest, With mighty groues of holy Lawrell cround. Erecting learnings long decayed fame, Heryed and hallowed be thy sacred name. N 98 THE SIIEPHEABDS GAKLAND The flood of Helicon, forspent and drie, Her sourse decayd with foule obliuion, The fountaine flovves againe in thee alone, V Vliere Muses now their thirst may satisfie ; And old Apollo, from Parnassus hill, May in this spring refresh his droughty quill. The Graces, twisting garlands for thy head, Thy luorie temples deckt with rarest flowers. Their rootes refreshed with diuinest showers. Thy browes with mirlle all inu eloped, shepheards erecting trophies to thy praise, lauding thy name in songs and heauenly laies. Sapphos sweete vaine in thy rare quill is seene, Minerua was a figure of thy worth, Mnemosine, who brought the Muses forth, Wonder of Britaine, learnings famous Queene, Appollo was thy Syer, Pallas her selfe thy mother. Pandora thou, our Phoebus was thy brother. Delicious Larke, sweete musick of the morrow, Cleere bell of Rhetoricke ringing peales of loue ; loy of the Angels, sent vs from aboue. Enchanting Syren, charmer of all sorrow, the loftie subiect of a heauenly tale, Thames fairest Swanne, our summers Nightingale. Arabian Phenix, wonder of thy sexe, Louely, chaste, holy, Myracle admired. With spirit from the highest heauen inspired, Oh ! thou alone, whome fame alone respects, Natures chiefe glory, learnings richest prize, hie .Joues Empresa, vertues Paradize. THE SHEPHEARDS GAELAKD. 99 Oh ! glorie of thy nation, beauty of thy name, loy of thy countrey, blesser of thy birth, Thou blazing Comet, Angel of the earth, Oh! Poets Goddesse, sun-beame of their fame; vvhome time through many worlds hath sought to find, thou peerles Paragon of ■woman klnde. Thy glorious Image gilded with the sunne, Thy lockes adorn 'd with an immortall crowne, Mounted aloft vpon a Chrjstal throne, ^^Hien by thy death thy life shalbe begun, the blessed Angels tuning to the spheres, with Gods sweete musick charme thy sacred eares. From Fayrie He, deuided from the mayne, To vtmost Thuly fame transports thy name ; To Garamant shall thence conuey the same, Where, taking wing and mounting vp againe, from parched banckes on sun-burnt Affricks shore, shall flie as farre as erst she came of yore. And gentle Zephire, from his pleasant bower \\Tiistlino- sweete musick to the shepheards rime, The Ocean billowes duely keeping time, Playing vpon Xeptunus brazen tower; louers of learning shouting out their cries, shaking the Center with th' applaudities. Whilst that great engine, on her axeltree. Doth role about the vaultie circled Globe, Whilst morning man tie th in her purple Kobe, Or Tytan poste his sea Queenes bower to see, whilst Phoebus crowne adornes the starrie skie, Pandoras fame so long shall neuer die. N 2 100 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. When all our siluer swans shall cease to sing, And when our groues shall want their Nightingales ; When hils shall heare no more our shepheards tales, Nor ecchoes with our Eoundelayes shall ring, the little birdes, long listning to thy fame, shall teach their ofspring to record thy name. Ages shall tell such wonders of thy name, And thou in death thy due desert shalt haue, That thou shalt be immortall in thy graue, Thy vertues adding force vnto thy fame ; so that vertuer with thy fames wings shall flie, and by thy fame shall vertue neuer die. Vpon thy toombe shall spring a Lawrell tree , Wliose sacred shade shall serue thee for an hearse, Vpon whose leaues (in golde) ingrau'd this verse. Dying she Hues whose like shall neuer be ; a spring of Nectar flowing from this tree, the fountayhe of eternall memorie. To adorne the triumph of eternitie, Drawne with the steedes which dragge the golden sunne, Thy wagon through the milken way shall runne. Millions of Angels still attending thee ; Millions of Saints shall thy lines prayses sing, pend with the quill of an Archangels wing. Gorbo. Long may Pandora weare the Lawrell crowne. The ancient glory of her noble Peers ; And as the Egle, Lord, renew her yeeres, Long to vpholde the proppe of our renowne : THE SHEPH.EAKDS GARLAND. 101 long may she be, as she hath euer beene, the lowly handmaide of the Fayrie Queene. Non mild mille placent : non sum desertor Amoris : Tu mihi [si qua fides) cura perennis eris. 102 THE SHEPHBARDS GARLAND. THE SEVENTH EGLOG. Borril, an aged shepheard swaine, with reasons doth repvooue Satte, a foolish wanton hoy, hut lately falne in hue. Satte. Borrill, why sit'st thou musing in thy coate, like dreaming Merlyn in his drowsie Cell? What may it be with learning thou doest doate, or art inchanted with some Magick spell? Or wilt thou now an Hermites life professe, And bid thy beades heare like an Ancoresse ? See how faire Flora decks our fields with flowers, and clothes our groues in gaudie summers greene, And wanton Ver distils rose-water showers, to welcome Ceres, haruests hallowed Queene ; Who layes abroad her louely sun-shine haires, Crown'd with great garlands of her golden eares. Now shepheards layne their blankets all awaie, and in their Jackets minsen on the plaines, And at the riuers fishen daie by daie : now none so frolicke as the shepheards swaines. Why liest thou here, then, in thy loathsome caue, As though a man were buried quicke in graue ? THE SHEPHEABDS GARLAND. 103 Porrill. Batte, my coate from tempest standeth free, when stately towers been often shakt with wind ; And wilt thou, Batte, come and sit with me. Contented life here shalt thou onely finde ; Here mai'st thou caroU Hymnes, and sacred Psalmes, And hery Pan with orizons and almes : And scorne the crowde of such as cogge for pence, and waste their wealth in sinfull brauerie ; Whose gaine is losse, whose thrift is lewd expense, and liuen still in golden slauery ; Wondring at toyes, as foolish worldlings doone. Like to the dogge which barked at the moone. Here maist thou range the goodly pleasant field, and search out simples to procure thy heale. What sundry vertues hearbs and flovvres doe yeeld gainst griefe, which may thy sheepe or thee assaile : Here mayst thou hunt the little harmeles Hare, Or else entrap false Keynard in a snare. Or if thou wilt in antique Eomants reede of gentle Lords and Ladies, that of yore In forraine lands atchieu'd their noble deede, and been renownd from East to Westerne shore ; Or learne the shepheards nice astrolobie. To know the Planets moouing in the skie. , Batte. Shepheard, these things been all too coy for mee, whose lustie dayes should still be spent in mirth : These mister artes been better fitting thee, whose drouping dayes are drawing towards the earth. 101' THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. What, thinkest thou my iolly peacocks trayne Shall be acoyd, and brooke so foule a stayne? These been for such as make them votarie, and take them to the mantle and the ring, And spenden day and night in dotarie, hammering their heads, musing on heauenly thing; And whisper still of sorrow in th^ir bed, And done despise all loue and lustie head. Like to the curre, with anger well neare vvoode, who makes his kennel in the Oxes stall. And snarleth when he seeth him take his foode, and yet his chaps can chew no hay at all. Borrill, euen so it fareth now with thee, And with these wisards of thy mysterie. Borrill. Sharpe is the thorne full soone, I see by thee, bitter the blossome, when the fruite is sower. And early crook'd that will a Camock bee ; rough is the winde before a sodayne shower. Pittie thy wit should be so wrong mislead, And thus be guyded by a giddie head. Ah foolish elfe ! I inly pittie thee, misgouerned by thy lewd brainsick will ; The hidden baytes, ah fond ! thou do'st not see, nor find'st the cause which breedeth all thy ill : Thou think'st all golde that hath a golden shew, And art deceiu'd, for it is nothing soe. Such one art thou as is the little flie, who is so crowse and gamesome with the flame. Till with her busines and her nicetie, her nimble wings are scorched with the same; THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 105 Then fals she dovvne with pitteous buzzing note. And in the fier doth sindge her mourning cote. Batte. Alas ! good man, I see thou ginst to raue, thy wits done erre, and misse the cushen quite : Because thy head is gray and wordes been graue, thou think'st thereby to draw me from delight. What, I am young, a goodly Batcheler, And must Hue like the lustie limmeter. Thy legges been crook'd, thy knees done bend for age, and I am swift and nimble as the Koe ; Thou art yeouped like a bird in cage, and in the field I wander too and froe ; Thou must doe penance for thy olde misdeedes, And make amends with Auies and with creedes. For al that thou canst say I will not let, for why my fancie strayneth me so sore. That day and night my minde is wholy set on iollie Loue, and iollie Paramore : Only on loue I set my whole delight, The summers day, and all the winters night. That pretie Cupid, little god of loue, whose imped wings with speckled plumes been dight, Who striketh men below, and Gods aboue, Kouing at randon. with his feathered flight. When louely Venus sits and giues the ayme, And smiles to see her little Bantlings game. Vpon my staffe his statue will I'carue, his bo we and quiuer on his winged backe, 106 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. His forked heads for such as them deserue, and not of his an implement shall lacke ; And Venus in her Litter all of loue, Drawne with a Swanne, a Sparrow, and a Doue. And vnder him Thesby of Babylon, and Cleopatra sometime of renovvne ; Phillis that died for loue of Demophoon ; Then louely Dido, Queen of Carthage towne. Which euer held god Cupids lawes so deare, And been canoniz'd in Loues Calendere. Borrill. Ah, wilfull boy ! thy follie now I finde, and hard it is a fooles talke to endure : Thou art as deafe euen as thy god is blinde ; sike as the Saint, sike is the seruiture. But wilt thou heare a good olde Minstrels song, A medicine for such as been with loue ystong? Batte. Borrill, sing on; I pray thee let vs heare, that I may laugh to see thee shake thy beard : But take heede, Borrill, that thy voice be cleare, or by my hood thou'lt make vs all afeard; Or els I doubt that thou wilt fright our flockes, When they shall heare thee barke so like a foxe. Borrill. Oh ! spightfull wayward wretched hue, V Voe to Venus which did nurse thee ; Heauens and earth thy plagues do proue, Gods and men haue cause to curse thee. THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND, 107 Tlioughts grief e, hearts woe, Hopes paine, bodies languish, Enuies rage, sleepes foe, Fancies fraud, soules anguish, Desires dread, mindes madnes. Secrets hewrayer, natures error. Sights deceit, sullens sadnes, Speeches expense, Cupids terror. Malcontents melancholy. Hues slaughter, deaths nurse. Cares slaue, dotards folly , Forttmes bayte, worlds curse, Loolces theft, eyes blifidnes, Selfes loill, tongues treason, Paynes pleasure, wrongs kindnes. Furies frensie, follies reason. With cursing thee as I began. Cursing thee I make an end : Neither God, neither man, Neither Fayrie, neither Feend. Batte. Ah, worthy Borrill, here's a goodly song ! Now, by my belt I neuer heard a worse. Olde doting foole, for shame hold thou thy tongue; I would thy clap were shut vp in my purse. It is thy life, if thou mayst scolde and braule^ Yet in thy words there is no wit at all. And for that wrong which thou to loue hast done, I will aueng me at this present time, And in such sorte as now thou hast begonne : I will repeat a carowlet in rime, Where, Borrill, I vnto thy teeth will proue, That all my good consisteth in my loue. o2 108 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLA.ND. Borrill. Come on, good Batte; I pray thee, let vs heare. Much will be sayd, and neuer a whit the near. Batte. Loue is the heauens fayre aspect, loue is the glorie of the earth ; Loue only doth our Hues 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, loue framd m,y hand his arte to proue. Loue taught my Muse her perfect skill, loue gaue m,e first to Poesie ; Loue is the Soueraigne of my will, loue bound me first to loyalty. Loue was the first that framed my speech, loue was the first thai gaue me grace ; Loue is my life and fortunes leech, loue made the vertuous giue me place. Loue is the end of my desire, loue is the loadstarre of my loue ; Loue m.akes 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 vertue set. THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 109 Loue is my life, life is my hue, hue is my whole felicity, Loue is my sioeete, sweete is my loue ; I am in loue, and loue in me. Borrill. Is loue in thee ? alas ! poore sillie lad, thou neuer couldst haue lodg'd a worser guest; For where lie rules no reason can be had, so is he still sworne enemie to rest : It pitties me to thinke thy springing yeares Should still be spent with woes, with sighes, with teares. Batte. Gramercy, Borrill, for thy company, for all thy iestes and all thy merrie Bourds : I still shall long vntill I be with thee, because I find some wisdome in thy words; But I will watch the next time thou doost ward. And sing thee such a lay of loue as neuer shepheard heard. 110 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. THE EIGHTH EGLOG. Good Gorbo of the golden world, and Saturns raigne doth tell ; And afterward doth make reporte of bonnie Dovvsabell. Motto. Shepheard, why creepe we in this lowly vaine, as though our muse no store at all affordes, Whilst others vaunt it with the frolicke swajme, and strut the stage with reperfumed wordes? See how these yonkers raue it out in rime, who make a traffique of their rarest wits, And in Bellonas buskin tread it fine, like Bacchus priests raging in franticke fits. Those mirtle Groues decay 'd done growe againe, their rootes refresht with Heliconas spring, Whose pleasant shade inuites the homely swayne to sit him dovvne and heare the Muses sing. Then, if thy Muse hath spent her wonted zeale, with luie twist thy temples shall be crownd ; Or if she dares hoyse vp top-gallant sayle. Amongst the rest then may she be renownd. THE SHEPHEABDS GARLAND. Ill Gorho. My boy, these yonkers reachen after fame, and so done presse into the learned troupe, With filed quill to glorifie their name, which otherwise were pend in shamefull coupe. But this hie obiect hath abiected me, and I must pipe amongst the lowly sorte, Those little heard-groomes, who admir'd to see, When I by Moone-shine made the fayries sporte. Who dares describe the toyles of Hercules, and puts his hand to fames eternall penne, Must inuocate the soule of Hercules, attended with the troupes of conquered men. Who writes of thrice renovvmed Theseus, a monster-tamers rare description, Trophies the iavves of vglie Cerberus, and paynts out Styx, and fiery Acheron. My Muse may not aifect night-charming spels, whose force effects th' Olympicke vault to quake ; Nor call those grysly Goblins from their Cels, the euer damned frye of Limbo lake. And who erects the braue Pyramides of jMonarchs, or renowned warriours, Neede bath his quill, for such attempts as these, in flowing streames of learned Maros showres. For when the great worlds conquerer began, to proue his helmet and his habergeon, The sweat that from the Poets-God Orpheus ran, foretold his Prophets had to play vpon. 112 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. When Pens and Launces sawe the Olympiad prize, those chariot triumphes with the Lawrell crowne, Then gan the worthies glorie first to rise, and plumes were vayled to the purple gowne. The grauest Censor, sagest Senator, with wings of Justice and Eeligion, Mounted the top of Nimrods statelie Tower, soring vnto that hie celestiall throne, Where blessed Angels in their heauenly queares chaunt Anthemes with shrill Syren harmonic, Tun'd to the sound of those aye-crouding sphears. Which herien their makers eternitie. Those who foretell the times of vnborne men, and future things in foretime augured, Haue slumbred in that spell-gods darkest den, which first inspir'd his prophesiyng head. Sooth-saying Sibels sleepen long agone, we haue their reede, but few haue cond their Arte, Welch-wisard Merlyn cleueth to a stone ; no Oracle more wonders may impart. The Infant age could deftly caroll loue, till greedy thirst of that ambitious honor. Drew Poets pen from his sweete lasses gloue, to chaunt of slaughtering broiles and bloody horror. Then Joues loue-theft was priuily discri'd, how he playd false play in Amphitrios bed ; And how Apollo, in the mount of Ide, gaue Oenon phisick for her maydenhead. THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 113 The tender grasse was then the softest bed, the pleasant'st shades were deem'd the statelyest hals, No telly-god with Bacchus banqueted, nor paynted ragges then couered rotten wals. Then simple loue with simple vertue way'd, flowers the sauours which true fayth reuayled, Kindnes with kindnes was againe repay'd, with sweetest kisses couenants were sealed. Then beauties selfe, with her selfe beautified, scornd payntlngs pergit, and the borrowed hayre ; Nor monstrous formes deformities did hide^ nor foule was vernisht with compounded fayre. The purest fleece then couered purest skin, for pride as then with Lucifer remaynd : Deformed fashions now were to begin, nor clothes were yet with poysned liquor staynd. But when the bowels of the earth were sought, and men her golden intrayles did espie. This mischiefe then into ,the world was brought, this fram'd the mint which coynd our miserie. Then lofty Pines were by ambition hewne, and men, sea-monsters, swamme the brackish flood In waynscot tubs, to seek out worlds vnknowne ; for certain ill to leaue assured good. The starteling steede is manag'd from the field, and serues a subiect to the riders lawes : He whom the churlish bit did neuer weeld, now feels the courb controll his angrie iawes. p 114 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. The hammering Vulcane spent his wasting fire, till he the vse of tempred mettals found ; His anuile wrought the steeled cotes attire, and forged tooles to carue the foe-mans wound. The Citie builder then intrencht his towres, and wald his wealth within the fenced towne, Which' afterward in bloudy stormy stours, kindled that flame which burnt his Bulwarks downe. And thus began th' Exordium of our woes, the fatall dumbe shewe of our miserie : Here sprang the tree on which our mischiefe growes, the drery subiect of worlds tragedie. Motto. Well, shepheard, well, the golden age is gone; wishes may not reuoke that which is past : It were no wit to make two griefes of one; our prouerb sayth, Nothing can alwayes last. Listen to rne, my louely shepheards ioye, and thou shalt heare with mirth and mickle glee A pretie Tale, which, when I was a boy, my toothles Grandame oft hath tolde to me. Gorbo. Shepheard say on, so we may passe the time; There is no doubt it is some worthy ryme. Motto. . Farre in the countrey of Arden There wond a knight, hight Cassemen, as holde as Isenbras : THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 115 Fell loas he and eger bent, In battel 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 ivas her fathers heire. Full well she was ycond the leyre of inichle curtesie. The silke wel couth she twist and tioine, And make the fine March pine, and with the needle werke ; And she couth helpe the priest to say His Mattens on a holy day, and sing a Psalme in Kirke. She ware a frock of frolicke greene, Might ivell beseeme a mayden Queene, which seemly was to see : A hood to that so neat and fine, In colour like the columbine, ywrought full featously. Her feature all as fresh aboue As is the grasse that growes by Doue, as lyth as lasse of Kent: Her skin as soft as Lemster wooll, As ivhite as snow on peakish hull, or Swanne that swims in Trent. This mayden, in a morne hetime, Went forth when May was in her prime, to get sweet Cetywall, Tlie hony-suckle, the Harlocke, The Lilly and the Lady-smocke, to deck her summer hall. Thus as she wandred here and there, p2 116 THE SHEPHEABDS GARLAND. Ypiching of the bloomed Breere, she chanced to espie A shepheard sitting on a bancke ; 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 medoives rung, and that the woods did sound. In fauour this same shepheards sioayne Was like the bedlam Tamburlayne, which held 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 ivith sheere ; His mittens were of Bauzens skinne. His cockers ivere of Cordiwin, his hood of Meniueere. 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 broiues as white as Albion rockes, so like a louer true : Andpyping still he spent the day. So mery as a popingay, which liked Dowsabell, That would she ought or would she nought, This lad would neuer from her thought : THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 117 she in loue-longing fell. A t 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, Tliat all his sheape forsooke their foode, to heare his melodie. Thy sheepe, quoth she, cannot be leane, That haue a iolly shepheards swayne the which can pipe so loell. Yea but {sayth he) their shepheard may, If pyping thus he pine aioay in hue of Dowsabell. Of hue, fond hoy, take thou no keepe, Quoth she ; looke loell vnto thy sheepe, lest they should hap to stray. Quoth he, so had I done full well, Sad I not seene fayre Dowsabell come forth to gather Maye. With that she gan to vaile Mr 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 adoivne, 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. Shall neither sheepe nor shepheard hoidd, except thou fauour me. Sayth she, yet leuer I ivere dead, Then I should lose my maydenhead, and all for hue of men. 118 THE SHEPHEAKDS GARLAND. Sayth he, yet are you too vnkind, If in your heart you cannot Jinde to loue vs now and then : And I to thee will he as kinde As Colin ivas to Rosalinde, of curtesie the flower. Then ivill I be as true, quoth she. As euer may den yet might he, * vnto her Paramour. With that she hent her snoioe-white knee ; Downe hy the shepheard kneeled shee, and him she sweetely kist : With that the shepheard whoop d for ioy; Quoth he, ther's neuer shepheards hoy, that euer was so hlist. Gorbo. Now, by my sheep-hooke, here's a tale alone ! Learne me the same, and I will giue thee hier; This were as good as curds for our Jone, When at a night we sitten by the fire. Motto. Why, gentle Hodge, I will not sticke for that, when we two meeten here another day. But see, whilst we haue set vs downe to chat, yon tikes of mine begin to steale away. And if thou wilt but come vnto our greene on Lammas day, when as we haue our feast, Thou shalt sit next vnto our summer Queene, and thou shalt be the onely welcome guest. THE SHEPHEAEDS GABLAND. 119 THE NINTH EGLOG. When coleTblacke night with sable vaile, eclipsd the gladsome light, Rowland in darkness shade alone, bemoanes his loofull flight. What time the weary weatherbeaten flockes, forsooke the fields to shrowd them in the folde, The groues dispoyl'd of their fayre summer lockes, the leaueles branches nipt with frostie colde, The droupiug trees their gaynesse all agone, In mossie mantles doe expresse their moane. When Phcebus from his Lemmans louely bower Throughout the sphere had ierckt his angry lades, His Carre now pass'd the heauens hie welked Tower, Gan dragge adowne the occidentall slades, In silent shade of desart, all alone, Thus to the night Rowland bewrayes his moane. Oh blessed starres ! which lend the darknes light, the glorious paynting of that circled throane ; You eyes of heauen, you lanthornes of the night, to you, bright starres, to you I make my moane : Or end my dayes, or ease me of my griefe; The earth is frayle, and yeelds me no reliefe. 120 THE SHEPHEABDS GARLAND. And thou, fay re Phebe, clearer to my sight then Tytan is when brightest he hath shone, Why shouldst thou now shut vp thy blessed light. And* sdayne to looke on thy Endymion ? Perhaps the heauens me thus despight haue done, Because I durst compare thee with their sunne. If drery sighes, the tempests of my brest, or streames of teares from floods of weeping eyes ; If downe-cast lookes with darksome cloudes opprest, or words which with sad accents fall and rise ; If these nor her, nor you, to pittie moue, There's neither helpe in you, nor hope in loue. Oh fayr'st that lines, yet most vnkindest mayd ! 6 whilome thou the ioy of all my flocke ! Why haue thine eyes these eyes of mine betray d, Vnto thy hart more hard then flintie rocke, ' And lastly thus depriu'd me of their sight, From whome my loue deriues both life and light? Those dapper ditties pend vnto her prayse, and those s-^/eete straynes of tunefull pastorall. She scorneth as the Lourdayns clownish layes, and recketh as the rustick madrigall. Her lippes prophane Ideas sacred name. And sdayne to read the annals of her fame. Those gorgeous garlands, and those goodly flowers, wherewith I crown'd her tresses in the prime. She most abhors; and shuns those pleasant bowers, made to disport her in the summer time : She hates the sports and pastimes I inuent. And, as the toade, flies all my meriment. THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. 121 With holy verses hcryed I her gloue, and dew'd her cheekes with fountaines of my teares, .And carold her full many a lay of loue, twisting sweete Koses in her golden hayres: Her wandring sheepe full fafely haue I kept, And watch'd her flocke full off when she hath slept. Oenon neuer vpon Ida hill so oft hath cald on Alexanders name, As hath poore Rowland with an Angels quill, erected trophies of Ideas fame : Yet that false shepheard, Oenon, fled from thee; I follow her that euer flies from me. Ther's not a groue that wonders not my woe, there's not a riuer weepes not at my tale : I heare the ecchoes (wandring too and free) resound my griefe in euery hill and dale : The beasts in field with many a wofull groane. The birds in ayre help to expresse my raoane. Where been those lines, the heraulds of my heart, my plaints, my tears, my vowes, my sighes, my prayers? what auayleth fayth, or what my Arte? 6 loue ! 6 hope ! quite turn'd into despayres : She stops her eares as Adder to the charmes, And lets me lye and languish in my harmes. All is agone, such is my endles griefe, and my mishaps amended naught with moane : 1 see the heauens will yeeld me no reliefe. what helpeth care, when cure is past and gone? And teares, I see, doe me auayle no good. But as great showres increase the rising flood. Q 122 THE SHBPHEARDS GARLAND. With folded armes, thus hanging downe his head, he graue a groane as though his heart had broke ; Then looking pale and wan, as he were dead, he fetch'd a sigh, but neuer a word he spoke : For now his heart wax'd cold as any stone ; Was neuer man aliue so woe begone. With that fayre Cinthya stoups her glittering vayle, and diues adowne into the Ocean flood. The easterne brow, which erst was wan and pale, now in the dawning blusheth red as blood : The whistling Larke ymounted on her wings, To the gray morrow her good morrow sings; Wlien this poore shepheard, Rowland of the Eocke, whose faynting legges his body scarse vpheld, Each shepheard now returning to his flocke, alone poore Eowland fled the pleasant fleld, And in his Coate got to a vechie bed : Was neuer man aliue so hard bested. Imprinted at London for Thomas Woodcock, dwelling in Pauls Church- yarde, at the signe of the black Beare. 1593. NOTES TO IDEA. THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. p. 65, 1. 10. The clieerfull welkin, comen this long look'd hower.J The copy we have used in our reprint formerly belonged to the celebrated poet and peer, Robert Earl of Essex (the favourite of Queen Elizabeth), as is testified by his autograph on the title-page, which, in the transmission from hand to hand, has sustained some injury. The work is corrected throughout, apparently by more than one contem- porary (not the Earl) ; and, although we follow the original in our text, we shall notice the emendations, especially as several of them are material. The first occurs in this line, where the last letter in the Anglo-Saxon participle " comen '' is struck out vnth a pen, perhaps, to the improvement of the measure, thus, — ■ "The cheerful! welkin, come this long look'd hower." In the undated octavo edition of these pastorals, where they appeared for the second time and in a corrected form, (of which edition we have spoken in detail in our Introduction,) the two first stanzas of this Eclogue are given as follows, — shewing that Drayton himself, at a later period, threw " comen " (elsewhere usually printed " com'n ") entirely out. " Phcebus full out his yearly course had rii, whom the long winter labored to outweare, & now preuayling prospYously begunne to rayse himselfe vpon our hemispheare ; and the pleas'd heauen, this ioyful season neere, Oreioy'd dissolues [in] many a siluer teare. "When Philomel, true augure of the spring, whose tunes expresse a Brothers traiterous fact, whilst the fresh groues with her coplaints do ring, To Cinthia her sad tragedy doth act : The iocund merle, perch'd on the highest spray, sings his loue forth to see the pleasant May." It is to be remarked also, that when Drayton reprinted these pastorals he omitted the seventh stanza of the edit. 1593. q2 124 THE SHEPHEAEDS GARLAND. P. 05, 1. 13. Sweetly recordes her tunefiill harmony. J It is needless to quote passages to prove that the word " recordes," in this line, was almost technically employed tp denote the singing of birds. P. 66, 1. 5. The Buck forsakes the launds where he hath fed. J " Launds " is an old and common form of lawns, but only to be preserved where the early spelling is in all cases strictly followed P. 66, 1. 11. Saue Rowland, leaning on a Eanpick tree. J By Eowland, Drayton meant himself, and hence, among the poets of that day, he obtained the name : T. Lodge's third Eclogue (" A Eig for Momus," 1595), is addressed to Drayton expressly by the name of Eowland. On the other hand, Lodge's fifth Epistle, in the same work, is inscribed " To master Michael Drayton." " Eanpick," or rampick, is a provincial word, stUl in use in Warwickshire ; and " a ranpick tree " is an old tree, the head of which being decayed, the bare branches spread above like ragged horns. P. 67, 1. 1. O shepheards soueraigne ! yea, receiue in gree.J " In gree " is vrath com- placency, or in good part — an expression of fr'equent occurrence. P. 67, 1. 9. Then sacred sighes what thing more precious is ?] " Then " of old was con- stantly used for than. P. 67, ]. 30. By date, assurance, eternity, and peace.] Some old corrector of the press, in order to indicate that, for the sake of the verse, " eternity " ought to be read 'ternity, has put an apostrophe over the first letter of the word. " Surcease," in the preceding line, means end or finish. P. 68, 1. 1. When Eowland from this time consumed stock.] i. e. the "ranpick tree,'' before mentioned. In the edition of these pastorals 8vo. n. d. the Latin verses, at the end of the first, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth Eclogues, are omitted. P. 69, 1. 7. Might my youth's mirth delight thy aged yeeres.] The commencement of this Eclogue in the undated impression in 8vo. is as follows : " Might my youth's mirth become thy aged yeares, my gentle shepheard, father of us all, wherewith I wonted to delight my feeres, when to their sports they pleased mee to call. P. 69, 1. 9. Wherewith I whylome loy'd my louely feeres.] "Eeeres " are companions : see p. 54, note to p. 17, 1. 2. It deserves remark that in this line " louely " is altered in MS. to louing ; and it may have been a misprint similar to that pointed out in Shakespeare's " Two Gentlemen of Verona," A. 1, sc. 2 (Notes and Emenda- tions, p. 19). It does not seem likely that Motto would call his rustic friends " lovely," though he might well term them loving. NOTES. 125 P. 69, 1. 11. Now would I tune my miskins on this Greene. J A "miskin" is a small bag-pipe; perhaps from musician, kin being used as the diminutive. P. 69, 1. 13. Of that sole Pheuix Bird, my Hues sole Queene. J Of course, alluding to Elizabeth ; and to her red hair in the next line. P. 69, 1. 17. Thy droughthy wits, not long refresht -with raigne.J i- e. not for a long period refresh'd with rain. The letter g, in " raigne," was too much, even according to the then usual mode of spelling, and it is erased in MS. P. 70, 1. 3. The lothHe morpheu saffroned the place.] " Morpheu " is scurf, with which the old shepherd says his face was made yellow; or, as he expresses it afterwards, the " skin o'ercut with rough embroidery." It is vain, at this time of day, to specu- late for whom old Wynken was intended ; but in productions of this class personal allusions were perpetually made. It is clear from what is said that he was some poet, then in decrepitude. P. 71, 1. 1. Thy brawue-falne armes, thy camock-bended backe.J i. e. thy back bent like a " cammock," or crooked piece of timber: camus, Fr. crooked. P. 71, 1. 3. The Southsaiers of natures wofull wrack.] i. e the soothsayers, or truth- tellers, of the dismal ruin of nature — a fbie poetical expression. P. 71, 1. 14. Now am I like the knurrie-bulked Oke.] Drayton subsequently changed this compound epithet to knotty aged ; but it has hardly the force of " knurrie- bulked," in reference to the size, as well as to the ruggedness of the oak. P. 71 , 1. 18. And though thou seemst like to the bragging bryer.] " Bryer " must be pro- nounced breer, for the rhyme's sake ; and in the next Eclogue it is spelt breere, though afterwards brier, when rhyming with " here." P. 72, 1. 10. The expresse Image of eternitie.J Drayton soon became dissatisfied with this mode of expressing " love's idolatry," and in the next edition substituted for this poem the following lines. " Then this great vniverse no lesse Can serue her praises to expresse ; Betwixt her eies, the poles of loue, The host of heauenly beautyes move, Depainted in their proper stories, As well the fix'd 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 musiek of those sphears do breake, 126 THE SHEPHEABDS GABLAND. Which their harmonious motion breedeth : From whose oheerfull breath proceedeth That balmy aweetnes that giues birth To euery offspring of the earth. Her shape and carriage of which frame, In forme howe well shee beares the same, Is that proportion, heaven's best treasure, Whereby it doth all poyse and measure ; So that alone her happy sight Conteynes perfection and delight." P. 72, 1. 16. Thou lightning flame of sacred Poesie.J The author for some reason after- wards excluded this stanza. The addition of a hyphen, by a pen, converts " light- ning-flame " into a compound, in the old copy formerly belonging to Lord Essex. P. 73, 1. 5. And being shrowded in a homely cote.] i. e. in a homely cottage, or sheep- cote. The whole 6f this passage refers to some early disappointment, real or ima- ginary, of Drayton. P. 73, 1. 7. He tun'd his Eebeck with a mournfull note.] Here we see the rebeck (some- thing like our flageolet) mentioned as an instrument used by shepherds. P. 73, 1. 18. Expell'st the clouds of my harts lowring night.] Here wee meet with so obyious a misprint, that we cannot leave it uncorrected; viz. might for "night." The last must be what Drayton wrote, and to " night " it is amended in MS. in the old copy we have employed. As the poet never reprinted this " doleful elegy," but substituted another production, which we shall insert presently, the printer's error was never set right. P. 73, 1. 23. May sacred temples gaynsay sacred prayers.] The MS. alteration proposed here may be reasonably doubted: it is fires for " prayers;'' and perhaps Drayton was of opinion that " prayers " rhymed with " desires " suflSciently well : neither do we see ho'w fires, if such had been the poet's word, could easily have been mis- printed " prayers." P. 74, 1. 2 The clouds sheed teares and weapen at my misse,] This poem appears soon afterwards not to have satisfied the writer, and accordingly in the next impression of these pastorals (8vo. n. d.) we find the following inserted instead of it. " Uppon a bank with roses set about, Where pretty turtles, joyning bil to bill, And gentle springs steale softly murmuring out, Washing the foote of pleasure's sacred hill ; NOTES. 127 There little loue sore wounded lyes. His bowe and arrowes broken, Bedewd with teares from Venus eyes ; Oh! grievous to be spoken. Beare him my hart, slaine with her scornefull eye, Where sticks the arrowe that poore hart did kill, With whose sharp pile, request him ere he die. About the same to write his latest will ; " And bid him send it back to me At instant of his dying, That cruell, cruell shee may see My faith, and her denying. His chappel bee a mournfuU Cypresse shade, And for a chauntry Philomel's sweet lay. Where prayers shall continually bee made By pilgrim louers passing by that way ; With Nymphs and shepheards yearly moane His timeles death beweeping, In telling that my hart alone Hath his last will in keeping." P. 74, 1. 11. Beautie and wealth been fraught with hie disdaine.] If we may understand this line literally, it shews that the lady to whom Drayton was attached was rich : her personal charms we must take on the still more questionable testimony of her imaginative admirer. P. 75, 1. 2. Eowland and Perkin both Ifeere.J i.e. both in company — in company with each other. In this Eclogue Drayton makes himself, under his assumed name of Eowland, the lofty eulogiser of Elizabeth. P. 75, 1. 8. Time plaies the hunts-vp to thy sleepie head.] A hunts-up was the ordinary term for a song, or piece of music, to rouse from slumber in the morning : it is of perpetual recurrence. See Chappell's " Engl. Song and Ballad Music,'' Pt. I. p. 69. P. 75, 1. 15. Then slumber not with foule Endymion.J Why should Endymion be termed '' foule" ? May we not suspect that foole is the proper reading? Drayton afterwards, in the 8vo. n. d., altered the epithet to " dull" Endymion. P. 75, 1. 18. Faire Beta she. J He celebrates and flatters the Queen under the name of Beta. When Drayton republished this performance, he made various alterations in it, and began thus : 128 THE SHEPHEAEDS GAKLAND. Rowland, for shame ! awake thy drowsie muse : Tyme playes the hunts-vp to thy sleepy head. Why lyest thou here, whilst wee are ill bestead, fowle idle swayne ? Who euer heard thy pipe and pleasing vaine, And now doth heare this scuruy minstralcie, Tending to naught but beastly ribauldry, that doth not muse ? Then slumber not with dull Endymion, But tune thy reed to dapper virelayes, And sing a while of blessed Betaes prayse ; and none but she : " Noninos," mentioned in the original edition, is a term applied in ridicule to the " scurril minstrelsy," or " scurvy minstrelsy," to which Kowland had condescended, instead of dealing, as formerly, in " dapper virelayes." " Dapper" is to be under- stood in its etymological sense of courageous, and animating. P. 75, 1. 20. For learned Collin laies his pipes to gage. J This allusion to Spenser, under his poetical name of CoHn, is very interesting, especially in connection with his supposed pilgrimage to Fairy -land. The first six books of his " Fairy Queen" had at this time been three years in print : the remainder, as is well known, did not comje out until three years after the date of this reference to the author. We take the dates of 1590 and 1596 from a copy of " The Faerie Queene " once be- longing to John Marston, the dramatist, now before us : it contains several printed introductory sonnets, not ordinarily found in this impression. P. 76,1. 10. With flatterie my muse could neuer fage.J Fudge, or "fage," as it is spelt, is a word of rather wide signification : here it means to suit or agree. P. 76, 1. 12. To please lewd Lorrels in their foolery.] In the Prompt. Parv. (edit. Camd. Soc. i. 313) "lorel" is made synonymous with losel; one being, in fact, the translation of the other: "lorel" is from the A.-S. verb signifying to lose; and losel is a person lost — an abandoned and worthless fellow. " Lewd lorrels " are therefore ignorant and shameless persons. P. 76, 1. 24. Which once thou sangst to me in laneueer.] In January. Perhaps it was originally composed by Drayton for some entertainmeiit at Christmas or Twelfth - tide. It is not at all impossible that the Earl of Essex, whom Elizabeth usually called Eobin, was covertly intended by Eobin Eedbreast, spoken of in the next line, and his lordship may have taken part in the performance. The Camden Society has recently printed a playful and elegant poem on the Eobin, unquestionably NOTES. 129 alluding to the young Lord Essex. See Camden Soc. Misc. Vol. III. The next speech by Perkin renders this notion even more probable: in 1593 Essex was engaged at Court, and, as far as singing was concerned, had " gone to roost." P. 77, 1. 6. O, thoufayre siluer Thames! 6 cleerest chrystall flood.] This song varies, though not very considerably, in later editions of these pastorals : when next it appeared in print, it opened as follows : — " Stay, Thames, to heare my song, thou greate and famous flood. Beta alone the PhcBnix is of all thy watry brood; The queene of virgins onely shee, The King of floods alotting thee : Of all the rest be ioyfuU, then, to see this happy day; Thy Beta now alone shall be the subiect of my lay. With daynty and delightsome straines of dapper virelayes," &c. It is to be noted that Drayton here returns to the phrase '' dapper virelayes'," though he had used it earlier in this Eclogue : in the oldest edition it is " sweetest virelayes.'' It will also be observed that, in the first draught of this song, the author calls the Thames "the Queene of floods," whereas he afterwards altered it to "the King of floods," with evident propriety. P. 78, I. 13. O ! thou fayre torch of heauen, the dayes most deerest light.] Here we have a MS. correction of evident value: viz. cleerest for " deerest:" one word was easily read for another. We have reprinted the old copy, with this observation on the faultiness of the text, because " deerest " may be understood. P. 78, 1. 16. And thou the glyding leuen.J Or levin, lightning. P. 79, 1. 8. To beat the stormie windes a back & calme the raging showres.] Here, as on p. 33, 1. 9, Drayton was driven to the use of " showers," as a rhyme to " towers," although it yery ill answered his purpose, since " raging showers " almost affords a contradiction in terms, and is otherwise unpoetical. P. 79, 1. 12. And moue the thunder in the ayre with lowdest Clarions.] This is intelli- gible ; but probably not what the poet wrote, , as an important emendation is inserted in MS. in the copy which once belonged to the Earl of Essex: there this line runs, " And mocke the thunder in the ayre with lowdest Clarions." " To move the thunder in the air" is very tame, and poor. P. 79, 1. 19. And thou vnder thy feet mayst tread that foule seuen-headed beast.] We may presume that this poem was written under the excitement of animosity to Spain and Eome. In 1593 the attempt of Perez upon the life of the Queen had R 130 THE SHEPHEARDS GABLAND. just been detected by Lord Essex. Drayton, in his cooler moments, altered the point at the end of the song very materially, and in the revised impression of these Eclogues (8vo. n. d.) the verse bears the following form: — " Beta, long may thine Altars smoake with yearely sacrifice, And long thy sacred temples maye theyre high dales solemnize ; Thy sheapheards watch by day and night, Thy Maydes attend thy holy light, And thy large Empire stretch her arms fro east vnto the west, And Albyon on the Appenines aduance her conquering crest.'' P. 79, 1. 20. Thanks, gentle Rowland, for my Eoundelay.J Such is the old text, and it may possibly be right ; but it is much more probable that Perkin should say " Thanks, gentle Rowland, for thy Roundelay;" since it was Eowland's, and not Perkin's production. Of old thy and " my " were often misprinted for each other, and a MS. note in our copy of 1593 leads us to believe that such was the case here. P. 80, 1. 5. And paynt his fleece with purple grayne.J This irregularity in the metre was probably occasioned by the inability of the poet to include in four syllables the whole of his meaning. P. 81, 1. 2. Wynken bewayleth Elphins losse.] Elphin means Sir Philip Sidney, whom, as a great poet himself, and a distinguished patron of poetry, Drayton terms " the God of Poesy." The word " ecleepd," in the next line but one, means, of course, called. When Drayton reprinted these pastorals, with so many alterations and additions, he changed the numbers of them; and this, which is "the fourth Eclogue" in 1593, became the sixth Eclogue in the undated edition. P. 81, 1. 7. Well met, good Wynken, whether doest thou wend?] The speaker of this line (who afterwards bings Eowland's {i. .e Drayton's) lament on the death of Sidney) is named Gorbo : he was intended by the author for some poetical friend, and we shall hereafter see that he gives proof of his friendship in a laudatory effusion under the assumed name of " Gorbo il fidele:" what was his real name we have no means of knowing. P. 82, 1. 1. My song is now a swanne-like dying song.] Hence we may suppose, and perhaps truly, that Drayton wrote this Eclogue very soon after the death of Sir Philip Sidney before Zutphen in the autumn of 1586. Wynken is supposed to bring to Gorbo the first intelligence of that disaster, lamented in so many cotmtries by so many poets. NOTES. 131 P. 82, 1. 10. What mayst thou be that old Wynkin de word.] Gorbo jocosely gives to Wynken (let who will have been hidden under that appellation) the siu'name of the celebrated early printer, who died thirty years before Drayton was born. P. 82, 1. 16. And vow'st for thy a solemne pilgrimage.] " For thy " is an ancient substi- tute for therefore, as " for why " is for wherefore. P. 82, 1. 17. To holy Hayles or Patrick's Purgatory.] Gorbo still endeavours to jeer the old man out of his melancholy : pilgrimages to what was called the holy blood of Hayles were formerly frequent ; but the reference to it, and to Patrick's Purgatory (also often sought) can only have been meant as a joke. P. 82, 1. 19. Themorrowes light shall lend vs dale enough.] Here, and in some other places, Drayton uses " morrow " for morning. P. 82, 1. 20. And tell a tale of Gawen or Sir Guy.] Two heroes of romance. In 1839 Sir F. Madden printed a complete collection of the English and Scottish poems relating to Sir Gawayne: Sir Guy is the celebrated hero > of "Warwick. Robin Hood, mentioned in the next line, requires no illustration ; and Clym of the Clough, with his companions Adam Bell and William of Cloudesley, are well known from the many reprints of the ancient and excellent ballad relating to them. P. 82, 1. 23. Which good olde Godfrey taught thee in thy youth.] For " Godfrey" the MS. emendation in the old edition is Geffrey, as if Chaucer were intended. P. 82, 1. 27. Gorbo, my Comfort is accloyd with care.] i. e. is overloaded, or burdened, with care. P. 83, 1. 1. Elphin is dead, and in his graue is laid.] Taking this line literally, Sir Philip Sidney was buried at the time Drayton wrote. According to George Whet- stone's rare poem on Sidney, he was wounded near Zutphen on the 22d of September, 1586, and buried in St. Paul's on the 16th of February, 1586-7. The original MS. of this production is preserved in the State Paper Office. P. 83, 1. 4. The widow world of all her ioyes depriued.] It may deserve notice that, in the old copy we have used, a hyphen is inserted with a pen between " widow '' and " world," so as to read " The widow-world," &c In the next line but two the first syllable in " reuenging " was struck out, probably for the sake of the metre. P. 83, 1. 17. Though mortall thou, thy fame immortal made J This line may be right, but a change introduced in MS. into the old copy instructs us to read " Though mortall thou, hy fame immortal made." The emendation proposed in the next line is also questionable : for " sooth-diuin- ing seer "we are told to read " sooth-diuining s?re;" which may be said to rhyme E 2 132 THE SHEPHEAEDS &AELAND. better witli " desire " in the next line but one. We retain, however, the old reading in both instances. P. 84, 1. 9. Then, tune thy pipe, and I will sing a laye.J In the old copy the article is accidentally joined to the substantive — alaye. P. 84, 1. 17. In such a song of learned Eowland's making.] We have already seen Drayton calling himself "little Eowland" (p. 71), and on this page we find him termed " Rowland of the rock," and '' learned Eowland." Wynken speaks of him as learned in comparison with ruder shepherds. The name of Wynken does not, as it ought to have done, precede the '' song ;" but it is clear that he sings it, while Gorbo is supposed to accompany it on his pipe. P. 84, 1. 18. Melpomine, put on thy mourning Gaberdine.] This effusion upon Sidney is to be found only in the oldest impression of " Idea. The Shepheards Garland," and we willingly preserve it. In the second and later impressions the following was substituted ; and we insert it on account of the great and deserved celebrity of the person referred to under the name of Elphin, and because nobody has adverted to it as an effusion by Drayton on the sad event of his loss. We have copied it from the second edition of these Eclogues, 8vo. n. d. Long after he was shrowded in the earth The birds for sorow did forbeare to sing ; Shepherds forwent their wonted sumer's mirth, Winter therewith outware a double spring. That had not nature lastly cald to mind The neare approching of her own decay, Things should haue gon contrary vnto kinde, And to the Chaos all againe should sway. The nymphs forbare in siluer springs to looke, With sundry flowers to brayd their yeellow hayr, And to the desarts sadly them betooke. So much opprest and ouercome with care. And for his sake the early wanton lambs, That 'mongst the hillocks wont to skip and play, Sadly runne bleating to their earefull dams, Nor will their soft lips to the vdders lay. The groves, the mountains, and the pleasant-heath, That wonted were with roundelaies to ring, Are blasted now with the cold northern breath, That not a sheepherd takes delight to sing. NOTES. 133 Who would not die when Elphin now is gone, Lining that was the sliepheard's true delight ? With whose blest spirit (attending him alonel Virtue to heaueu directly tooke her flight. Only from fools thou from the world didst fly, Knowing the earth strange monsters forth should hrii That should thy lasting poesy deny, Thy worth and honour rashly censuring. Whilst thou aloft with glorious wings art borne, Singing with Angells in the gorgeous sky, Laughing euen kings and their delights to skorn, And all those sotts them idly deify. And, learned sheepheard, thou to time shall liue. When their greate names are vtterly forgotten. And fame to thee eternity shall glue, When with their bones there sepulchers are rotte. Nor mournefuU cipresse nor sad widowing yew About thy tombe to prosper shall bee seen, But bay and mirtle, which be euer new, In spight of winter flourishing and greene. Summers longst day shall sheepheards not suffice To, sit and tell full stories of thy prayse ; Nor shall the longest winters night comprize Their sighs for him, the subiect of their layes. And gentle shepheards (as sure som there be) That liuing yet his vertues do inherit. Men from base enuy and detraction free. Of vpright harts and of as humble spirit. Thou that down from the goodly Western waste, To drink at Avon driuest thy sunned sheep, Good Melibceus, that so wisely hast Guided the flocks deliuered thee to keep, Forget not Elphin; and thou, gentle swayne. That dost thy pipe by siluer Douen sound, Alexis, that dost with thy flockes remaine. Far off within thy Calydonian grounde. 134 THE SHEPHEABDS GARLAND. Be mindfull of the shepheard that is dead : And thou too long that I to pipe haue taught, Vnhappy Rowland, that from roe art fled, And set'st old Winken and his words at naught ; And, like a gracelesse and vntutor'd lad, Art now departed from my aged sight, And needsly to the southern fields wilt gad. Where thou dost Hue in thriftlesse vayn delight; Thou, wanton boy, as thou canst pype aswell As any he a bagpipe that doth bear. Still let thy Rownds of that good shepheard tel, To whom thou hast been euermore so deare. Drayton subsequently made some verbal changes in the above poem, but they do not require distinct notice. P. 84, 1. 25. Warble forth your wamenting harmony.] " Wamenting " is an ancient and anglicised form of lamenting : it is sometimes spelt waymenting. Gorbo, near the end of the Eclogue, uses " lamenting '' — " lamenting cries." P. 85, 1. 7. 0, whylome thou thy lasses dearest loue.J Sir Philip married Frances, the only surviving daughter of Sir Francis Walsingham. P. 86, 1. 6. His funerall deserues no lesse at all to haue.j Drayton was fond of the expression " at all," and uses it several times in his " Harmonie of the Church;" but here, in MS. we meet with an emendation of the old copy, which may repre- sent the poet's language, and is certainly an improvement : after enumerating the strewings for Sidney's grave, the line is made to run thus : — " His funerall deserues no lesse then all to haue." Tlien for than was extremely common: see p. 124, note to p. 67, 1. 9. P. 86, 1. ] 1. On yonder hill. J We are just before told, in this poor stanza, that Sidney was to be seen feeding his flock on a "heavenly plain," and not "on yonder hill." P. 86, 1. 18. And being now a full tide of our teares.] When Drayton reprinted this pastoral in 8vo. n. d. he, for some reason, omitted this quatrain. P. 87, 1. 4. And in Ideas person paynts.] The whole collection of Eclogues is headed " Idea," as will be seen from the title-page. We shall find presently that the lady addressed by Drayton here (for the first time, and often afterwards in various works,) as " Idea," was not merely a poetical and imaginary being. P. 87, 1. 14. Left to the world as learnings lasting gage. J "World" is misprinted wold in the old copy, but it is corrected in MS. KOTES. 135 P. 88, 1. 11. Though Enuie sute her seuen-times poysne.d dartes.J From a passage in " Love's Labours Lost," A. IV. sc. 1. it is evident that " suit '' and " suitor " were of old pronounced shoot and shooter. In the Une above quoted Drayton must have written shoote, but the compositor printed " sute." This blunder is corrected in MS. in the old copy which once belonged to Lord Essex, where the line is made to run thus : " Though Enuie shoote her seuen-times poysned dartes." This emendation we consider certain; but the old text is unaltered in our reprint, because it may be urged that the poet possibly meant that Envy suits her darts to her bow, or bowstring. — That shoote is right we haue the poet's own evidence, for, when he republished these Eclogues, he changed the line to " Envy discharging all her poison'd darts." P. 88, 1. 22. Unfitting tearmes, nor false dissembling smiles. J The word " unfitting " in the old copy is printed unsitting ; a blunder occasioned by the ordinary mistake between long s andy P. 88, 1. 31. A minde voyd of mistrust, and free fi:om seruile thral.J Sir Henry Wotton, probably, had this stanza in his memory when he wrote thus of contentment in a private life: " This man is free from servile bands, Of hopes to rise, or fears to fall ; Lord of himself, though not of lands, And having nothing, yet hath all." P. 90, 1. 4. Conioyne helpe to erect our faire Ideas trophie.J AVhen Drayton reprinted these poems he introduced Rowland's eulogium of Idea with these lines : — " Shepheard, since thou so strongly dost perswade. And her iust worth so amply vs affoords, O sacred fury ! all my powers inuade. All fulness flowes from thy aboundant hoords; Her prayse requires the excellentest words. Shall I then first sing of her heauenly eie, To it attracting euery other sight ? May a poore shepheard then aspyre so hy," &c. P. 91, I 15. Oh, that my- verse thy vertues could contriue.J Here ''contrive" seems used in the sense of comprise. In Shakespeare's " Lover's Complaint," we meet with " contrive " in a somewhat peculiar sense : " She that her fame so to herself contrives." 136 THE SHEPHEAEDS GARLAND. P. 91, 1. 26. Eead in her eyes a Romant of delights.] i. e. a romance, or story, of delights : Chaucer (of whom Drayton was a diligent and delighted reader) has " the Romant of the Rose,'' &c. P. 92, 1. 3. Or vndertake to coate thy learned margent.J To " coate " is to quote, or note " thy learned margin." P. 92, 1. 16. But since vnperfect are the perfects colours.] i. e. the perfecfst, or most perfect, colours. In our old edition " perfects '' is amended to perfecfst in MS. P. 92, 1. 30. And teach the Dolphins to resound her name.] We are also instructed by a MS. note to read, "And teach the Dolphins to resound the same;" which, perhaps, is what Drayton wrote, " her name " having formed the rhyme in the second line of this stanza. Nevertheless, with this note, we follow the impression of 1593, the sense being complete. P. 93, 1. 26. Yet take in gree what euer doe befall.] i. e. in good part. See note to p. 67, 1. 1, on the words " receive in gree." P. 95, 1. 1. The sixt Eglog.J It forms " the eight Eglog " in the second edition, 8vo. n d- where it opens, with these lines : — " It ioyes me, Gorbo, yet we meet at last, 'Tis many a month since I the shepheard saw: Methinks thou lookst as thou wert much agast. '' What ist so much that should thy courage awe ? What, man, haue patience; welth wil come and go, And to the end the world shall eb and flow." This pastoral was considerably altered in other places from the state in which it originally appeared. P. 97, 1. 8. Vnworthy world of such men so vnworthy.] Here we see two lines termina- ting with the same word, " unworthy." This is clumsy, to say the least of it, and the construction of the verse and the sense of the poet may seem improved by a MS. alteration in the earliest edition (we insert it in a note only), which gives the first four lines of the stanza as follows : — Oh worthy world ! wherein those worthies liued : Vnworthy world of such men, so unecvrthy : Vnworthy age, of all the most unworthy, Which art of these so worthy men depriued." NOTES. 137 We have not felt ourselves at all warranted in deviating so far from the old copy as to siibstitute unearthy for " unworthy," but the old printer might easily make such a blunder. P- 97, 1. 32. Heryed and hallowed be thy sacred name.] To " hery " is to praise, to honour, and sometimes to bless. By Pandora, who is here so extravagantly extolled, Drayton meant Mary, Countess of Pembroke, (sister to Sir Philip Sidney) who received so much laudation from so many Poets. She had been an early patroness of Drayton, Daniell, Jonson, and others. P- 98, 1. 18. Pandora thou, our Phoebus was thy brother.] Alluding to Sir Philip Sidney, the Phosbus of the poets of his day. At a later date (in the edit. 8vo. n. d.) Drayton added the following stanza: — " Sister sometime she to that shepheard was, Tliat yet for piping neuer had his peere, Elphin, that did all other swayns surpasse, To whom she was of liuing things most deare ; And on his deathbed, by his latest will, To her bequeath'd the secrets of his skill." P. 98, 1. 23. The lofty subiect of a heauenly tale. J In the old copy the necessary prepo- sition " of is omitted, and inserted in MS. The Poet seems to refer to Sidney's " Arcadia," first printed in 1590, 4to. P. 100, 1. 24. Pend with the quill of an Archangels wing.] Yet, in his subsequent editions, Drayton gives us more than a hint that Lady Pembroke had in some degree altered, for he makes Gorbo say of her " Women be weake and subject most to chaunge," &c. He also inserts some severe stanzas regarding a nobleman, whom he calls Olcon, who at first encouraged Eowland, adding, " But he forsakes the herd-groome and his flocks," &c. Perkin again takes up the theme, and launches out in the praise of two sisters, who had been kind to Eowland, and had applauded, if not rewarded, his verses : the elder he names Panape, and the younger was the lady whom Drayton had long worshipped as Idea: — " The younger, then her sister not lesse good, Bred where the other lastly doth abide. Modest Idea, flower of womanhood, That Rowland hath so highly deified; Whom Phoebus daughters worthily prefer, And giue their gifts aboundantly to her." S 138 THE SHEPHEABDS GARLAND. He has previously told us that both lived " in shady Arden," near the river of " mournful Ankor.'' He goes on to celebrate another lady under the name of Sylvia, who resided near the Ravensbourn, in Kent : Blirtilla and her two brothers, Thyrsis and Palmeo, who dwelled in " wild Charnwood," are also warnaly extolled. P. 101, 1. 2. The lowly handmaide of the Fayrie Queene.J It seems more probable, after the high-flown praises heaped upon Pandora, that Drayton should have called her " the lovely handmaid " than " the lowly handmaid," even of the Fairy Queen, by whom he must mean Elizabeth, to whom Spenser long before had given that designation. Lovely and lowly might easily be confounded by the early printer, and in the edition of 1593, which once belonged to the favourite of Elizabeth, " lowly " is altered to lovely. It does not seem likely that it was merely a speculative emendation. In the second impression of these Pastorals a most remarkable addition was made, in which a lady, there called Selena, and the object of her partiality or patronage, named Cerberon, are very severely handled. The following are four of these singular stanzas put into the mouth of Gorbo : — " So once Selena seemed to reguard that faithful Rowland her so highly praysed, and did his trauell for a while reward, As his estate she purpos'd to haue raysed; But soone she fled from him, and the swaine defyes : 111 is he Sted that on such faith relies. And to deceiteful Cerberon she cleaues, that beastly clowne so vile of to be spoken, and that good shepheard wilfully she leaues, and falsly all her promises hath broken, and all those beautyes, whilom that her graced, with vulgar breath perpetually defaced. What dainty flower was yet euer there found, whose smell or beauty might the sence delight, wherewith Eliza, when she lined, was crowned, in goodly chapplets he for her not dighte, which became withered soone a8 ere she ware them, So ill agreeing with the brow that bare them. Let age sit soone and vgly on her brow; no shepheards praises liuing let her haue, To her last end noe creature pay one vow, nor flower be strew'd on her forgotten graue ; And to the last of all deuouring tyme nere be her name remembered more in rime." XOTES. 139 The third stanza shews that Queen Elizabeth was dead when it was written ; and what makes the above more noticeable is the fact that between about 1603 and 1619 (when these Eclogues were again printed), Drayton saw reason to sup- press the whole, and thus to withdraw the anathema he had pronounced upon Selena. These stinging stanzas are only found in the edit. 8vo. n. d. P. 102, 1. 11. Or wilt thou now an Hermites life professe.J " Novf " is wanting in the old copy and is added in IIS. : there can be no doubt of the fitness of inserting it. The author subsequently changed the closing couplet of this stanza as follows : ' A hermits life or mean'st thou to professe, Or to thy beads fall like an anchoresse ?" P. 103, 1. 6. And hery Pan with orizons and almes.] For "hery," see note to p. 'J7, 1. 32. To " cogge," in the next line, is to cheat, or deceive. P. 103, 1. 20. Or if thou wilt in antique Eomants reede J See note to p. 91, 1. 26. P. 103, 1. 24. Or learne the shepheards nice astrolabie ] A substantive formed from the astrolabe, an instrument for taking the altitude of stars, &c. mentioned by many of our old writers. Chaucer has a treatise expressly upon it. P. 104, 1. 2. Shall be acoyd and brooke so foule a stayne.J One of the most ordinary senses of to " acoy,'' or accoy, is to daunt, and such seems to be its meaning in this place. P. 104, 1. 4. And take them to the mantle and the ring.] The dress and tonsure of a friar is perhaps intended. P. 104, 1. 8. And done despise all loue and lustie head. J " Lustie head" ought properly fo be printed as one word: it is used for lustyhood, in the same way that maiden- head is used for maidenhood. Spenser has " lustiehead" in his fifth Eclogue. P. 104, 1. 9. Like to the curre, with anger well neare woode.J " Woode " is mad, or wild. P. 104, 1. 29. Who is so crowse and gamesome with the flame.] i. e. so playful and merry with the flame. In the next - line, perhaps " busines " ought to be understood huzziness. P. 105,1.9. And I must hue like the lustie limmiter. J The friars hmiters, or limitours, were licensed to beg within a particular district, and notoriously led very irregular Hves. P. 105, 1. 25. Eouing at randonwith his feathered flight] The flight-arrow was especially adapted to shooting long distances : to "rove'' was also technical in reference to the bowman's art ; and " at randon " is the old form of at random. We have it in Spenser's fifth Eclogue, and in many other authors. P. 106, 1. 26. Oh ! spightfull wayward wretched loue.J Instead of this " old Minstrel's song '' Drayton inserted the following, when he reprinted these pastorals in the edit. 8vo. n. d., to which we have often before referred. S2 140 THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND. " Now, fye vpon thee, wayward loue ! Woe to Venus whieli did nurse thee ! Heauen and earth thy plagues doe prove, Gods and men haue cause to curse thee. What art thou but extreamst madnesse, Nature's first and only error, That consum'st our dales in sadnesse By the mind's continuall terror ? "Walking in Cymerian blindnesse, In thy courses voyd of reason, 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. Thus of thee as I began, So again e I make an end : Neither god, neither man, Neither faiery, neither feend. P. 108, 1. 5 Loiie is the heauens fayre aspect.] Here, too, the poet seems to have thought that he could improve upon his first sketch : therefore, in his second edition he printed as follows : " What is Loue but the desire Of that thing the 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. Whereby PhoBbus doth begette On the vniversal mother, That the euerlasting Chaine Which together al things tied, And vnmooued them retain. And by which they shall abide : That concent we cleerely find. Which doth things together drawe, NOTES. 141 And so strong in euery kinde Subieots them to nature's law ; Whose high virtue number teaches. In which euerything dootli 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 oattell scarcely take From their damms, the fields to prone, But ech seeketh out a make : Nothing lines that doth not lone ; Not see much as but the plant, As nature euery thing doth payre, But if it the male do want Doth dislike, and will not beare. Nothing tlien is like to ioue, In the wliich all creatures be : From it ne're let me remooue, Nor let it remoove from me. P. 108, 1. 22. Loue is the loadstarre of my loue.J So the old copy; but there is evi^ dently something wrong in the line: to say that love is the loadstar of love is at best a mere truism ; and in this difficulty we fortunately encounter an emendationi n MS. which seems to set the whole right; viz. *' The loadstarre of my life is loue.'' We feel so much confidence in this change, that we have reluctantly kept it out of our text. P. 109, 1. 14. For all thy iestes, and all thy merrie Bourds. j " Jest " and " bourd " were nearly synonymous: "jest " or gest, is, however, sometimes to be taken for an act done. Gest, from the old Fr. giste, means also a resting-place. P. 110 1. 1. The Eighth Eglog.J This was made the fourth Eclogue, when Drayton re- printed the collection. P. 110 1. 13. And in Bellonas buskin tread it fine.] Alluding to such productions as G. Peele's " Farewell " to Sir John Norris and Sir Francis Drake, printed in 1589' or to the same author's " Eglogue Gratulatorie,'' on the return of the Earl of Essex from Portugal, also printed in 1589. 142 THE SHEPHEAEDS GABLAND. P. Ill, 1 9. When I by Moon-sliine made the fayries sporte.] Gorbo here refers to some work by himself; but it yet remains to be discovered, both who he was, and what was the production in which he had thus made sport for the fairies. P. Ill, 1. 12. Must inuocate the soule of Hercules.] Here we see " Hercules" rhyming, awkwardly, with " Hercn.les," and in the second impression of these pieces Drayton altered the stanza thus : — " Who of the toiles of Hercules will treat, And put his hand to an eternall pen, v In such high labours it behoves he sweat, To scare beyond the usual pitch of men." P. Ill, 1. 14. Who writes of thrice renovvmed Theseus.] See note to p. 39, 1. 2. In the fourth stanza of this Eclogue we have had " renowmed " printed renownd: it occurs again as " renowned " in the next stanza but one. P. 11 1 , 1. 29. Foretold his Prophets had to play vpon. J There is, most likely, some error in this line : Drayton afterwards altered it thus, " Foretold the prophets had whereon to sing ;'' and a MS. correction in our old copy makes it runs thus, " Foretold what Prophets had to play vpon." We adhere to the earliest text, which is just intelligible. P. 112, 1. 11. Tun'd to the sound of those aye-crouding sphears.] The epithet " aye- crouding " means ever musical, from crowd. Herien, in the next line, is the third person plural of hery, to praise: see notes to p. 97, 1. 32, and to p. 103, 1. 6. Again, for the sake of the measure, we must read " eternitie " as if the first syllable were elided. P. 112, 1. 24. To chaunt of slaughtering broiles & bloody horror.] " Horror '' is a very imperfect rhyme to " honor," and in the whole of this part of the Eclogue (which was much altered afterwards) we may reasonably suspect corruption. P. 113, 1. 10. Scornd payntings pe.rgit, and the borrowed hayre.] " Pergit,'' or parget, as it is usually spelt, umaxis plaster: " borrowed hayre "refers to the perriwigs then in fashion. P, 113, 1 25. The starteling steade is manag'd from the fieldj A MS. correction in our old copy alters " from " to for, as if the poet's meaning were that the horse was managed/or the field of battle, and not " from " the field where he wildly ranged. No change seems necessary. NOTES. 143 P. 114, 1. 5. The Citie builder then intrencht his towres. ] The compound " city builder" seems to require a hyphen, and it is inserted with the pen. P. 114, 1. 10. The fatall dumbe shewe of our miserie.] This line refers to the dumb shews, which at this date frequently preceded, and were thus made the exordiums of tragedies. P. 115, 1. 8. Full well she was ycond the leyre.] i. e. full well she knew the learnmg belonging to great courtesy. P. 115, 1. 24. As lyth as lasse of Kent.] " Lyth " usually means gentle or pliant. Spen- ser, in his second Eclogue, says, that the dewlap of a young bullock was " as lithe as Lasse of Kent." P. 115, 1. 30 To get sweete Cetywall.J In Prompt. Parv. (Camden Soc. Edit. p. 67,) " Cetewale " is merely explained herbe ; but we believe it is generally understood to mean valerian. P. 116, 1. 4. Like Chanteclere he crowed crancke.] Spenser has the same expression in his '' Shepherds Calendar," Eclogue IX., "As cocke on his dunghill crowing cranke." The word " crank " has various significations, but here it means merrily, cheer- fully. In the next line but one, " leard " is equivalent to learnt, or taught. P. 116, 1. 13. Was like the bedlam TamburlayneJ An allusion to Marlowe's play " Tamburlaine the Great," then highly popular: the word '' bedlam " is, of course, to be taken for madman, in reference to the nature of the character ; and the line, "which helde prowd Kings in awe," probably applies to the notorious scene in which Tamburlaine is drawn upon the stage in his car by captive and harUessed monarchs. Edward Alleyn was the earliest performer of this hero, and Drayton's mode of si:eakiug of his Shepherd may shew that Alleyn was a man of fine person. Tamburlaine was called " the Scythian Shepherd," and hence the greater propriety of the mention of him in this pastoral. P. 116, 1. 21. His mittens were of Bauzens skinne.J Badger's skin. In Prompt. Parv. " Bawstone or bawsone " is rendered taxus. In the next line we learn on the same authority that " cockers '' are boots, from cothurnus: in Prompt. Parv. the word is spelt cocur, which brings us nearer to the etymology. P. 116, 1. 23. His hood of Meniueere.j Meniver is a species of whitish fur, originally from Muscovy. " Lingel," mentioned just afterwards, is shoemaker's thread. The "tar-box," in the next line, was the constant companion of shepherds, for curing their flocks; and '' Coyntrie blew," just below, is " Coventry blue," often spoken of by writers of the time. In Warwickshire, Coventry is still called Cointry. 14il- THE SHEPHEARDS GAELAND. P. 118, 1. 5. As Colin was to Kosalinde.] An evident allusion to Spenser, under his poetical name of Colin Clout, and to his love for Eosalind, often mentioned in " The Shepherds Calendar." Drayton intends that Spenser was the flower of courtesy, not Rosalind. P. 118, 1. 17. Now, by my sheep-hooke, here's a tale alone!] The word " alone" was fre- quently used of old to express singularity and admiration: " here's a tale alon* " is as much as to say " here's a tale unequalled.'' P. 118, 1. 22. "Why, gentle Hodge, I will not sticke for that. J It is not apparent why Motto here calls Gorbo Hodge : perhaps the original name of Hodge was after- wards changed by Drayton to Gorbo. P. 119,1. 6. Wliat time the weary weatherbeaten flockes.] The word "weary" is not in the edit. 1593, but is derived from the edit. 8vo. n. d. where these Eclogues appeared for the second time. A word of two syllables is evidently wanted, and in the copy of the first edit., at one time the property of the Earl of Essex, wintred is inserted in MS. with a caret before " weatherbeaten." This may have been Drayton's word, but when he republished these poems, with many alterations, he preferred " weary :" so do we. P. 119,1. 12. When Phoebus from his Lemmans louely bower.J " Leman ' is usually employed derogatorily ; but it also expresses the lady with whom a person is in love. P. 120, 1. 21. She scorneth as the Lourdayns clownish layes ] A " lurden '' is a block- head, a stupid lout ; Fr. Lourdin. P. 121, 1. 1. With holy verses heryed 1 her gloue.] i. e. praised, or honoured, her glove: see notes to p. 97, 1. 32, to p. 103, 1. 6, and to p. 112, 1. 12. P. 121, 1. 7. Oenon neuer vpon Ida hill.j The verse would be much improved by reading ffinone, instead of dividing the diphthong, as in the edit, of 1593 : it is altered to Oenone in MS. ; but when Drayton reprinted the pastoral, he omitted the name and allusion altogether. In the fifth line of this stanza we must read CEnon. P. 121,1. 21. Owhat auayleth fayth, orwhat my Arte. J It stands 4rtes in the edit. 1593; but the rhyme shews it to be an error, and a pen is struck through the last letter. P. 122, 1. 17. And in his Coate got to a vechie bed. J That is, in his cot or cabin, got to a vetchy bed. Spenser, in his " Shepherds Calendar," Eel. IX. had used the same word, which E. K. incorrectly interprets " of pease straw." "There maist thou ligge in a vetcliy bed." Drayton imitates his predecessor in more respects than in words : we say this, with his copy of Spenser's Works, printed in 1611, in folio, before us. IDEAS M I E R y E. AMOVES IN QVATORZAINS. Che feme € tace affai domanda. 'Ki aJCir "-sai AT LONDON, Printed by lames Roberts, for Nicholas JLinge. Anno .1594. Gentle Reader, correct these f emits escaped in the printing. Amour 13. lyne 13. for by Tempe, reade my Tempe Amour 16. line 3. for deluered, reade deliuered Amour 34. line 18. for forforne, read forlome. Amour 40. line 14. for Goe Bastard, read Goe bastard goe, To the deere Chyld of the Muses, and his euer hind Mecsenas, Ma. Anthony Cooke, Esquire. Vouchsafe 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 brooke the purenes of the light. But sith 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 Fortes, nor from Petrarchs pen, A fault too common in thys latter tyme. Diuine Syr Phillip, I auouch thy writ, I am no Pickpurse of ano^hers wit. Yours denoted, M. Drayton. T 2 A7ikor, tryumph, vpon whose blessed shore The sacred Muses solemnize thy name; Where the Arcadian Swaines with rytes adore Pandoras poesy, and her lining fame : Where first this iolly Sheepheard gan rehearse That heauenly worth, vpon his Oaten reede. Of earths great Queene in Nectar-dewed verse, Which none so wise that rightly can areede. Now, in conceite of his ambitious loue. He mounts his thoughts vnto the highest gate, Straynd with some sacred spirit from aboue, Bewraies his loue, his fayth, his life, his fate. In this his myrror of Ideas praise ; On whom his thoughts and fortunes all attend, Tunes all his Ditties, and his Roundelaies, How loue begun, how loue shall neuer end. No wonder though his Muse then soare so hie, Whose subiect is the Queene of Poesie. Gorbo ilfidele. IDEAS MIRROUR. 149 Amour .1. Reade heere (sweet Mayd) the story of my wo, The drery abstracts of my endles cares, With my Hues 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 Hues complaint in doleful Elegies, With so pure loue as tyme could neuer boast. Receaue the incense which I oiFer heere. By my strong fayth ascending to thy fame, My zeale, my hope, my vowes, my praise, my prayer, My soules oblations 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 shalt 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 shalt see Chaste holy vowes for my soules sacrifice : That soule (sweet Maide) which so hath honored thee, Erecting Trophies to thy sacred eyes ; Those eyes to my hart shining euer bright, When darknes hath obscur'd each other light. 150 IDEAS MIRBOUB. Amour .3. ivly thoughts bred vp with Eagle-birds of loue, And, for their vertues I desierd 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 A. My faire, had not I erst adornd my Lute With those sweet strings stolne fro 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 scene thy Celestiall eye, Nor my hart knowne the power of thy name. My soule had ne'r 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. IDEAS MIRROUR. 151 Amour .5. Since holy Vestall lawes haue been neglected, The Gods pure fire hath been extinguisht quite; No Virgine 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 Eeligions lawes shea 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 Phcenix thou, this Phcenix 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 shalt to the heauens ascend : So maist thou Hue, past world, past fame, past end. 152 IDEAS MIBROUR. 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 3. od nubers 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 of 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. IDEAS MIRHOTJE,. 153 Amour .9. Beauty sometime, in all her glory crowned, Passing by that cleere fountaine 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'arerage 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 h:f thee, V 154 IDEAS MIRBOUB. 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 schoUer 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: 'Sly consonants the next when I had done, Words consonant, and sounding to thy fame. ily liquids then were liquid christall teares. My cares my mutes, so mute to craue reliefe ; My dolefuU Dypthongs were my lines dispaires, Redoubling sighes the accents of my griefe : My loues Schoole-mistris now hath taught me so, Tliat I can reade a story of my woe. Amour .12. Some Athiest 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, yee vnbeleeuing ! see A dumbe-borne 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 scene of thine. And mine eares deafe by thy fame healed be ; My vices cur'd by vertues sprung from thee, Mj 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. IDEAS MIRROTJR. 155 Amour ,13. Clccre Anhor, on whose siluer-sanded shore Mj soule-shrinde Saint, my faire Idea, lyes; blessed Brooke ! whose milk-white Swans adore That christall streame refined by her eyes : Where sweet llyrh-breathing Zephyre in the spring Gently distils his Nectar-dropping showers; Where Xightingals in Arden sit and sing Amongst those dainty dew-empearled flowers. Say thus, fayre Brooke, when thou shalt see thy Queenc: 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 by Tempe art alone. And thou, sweet Ankor, art my Helicon. Amour .14. Looking into the glasse of my youths miseries, 1 see the vgly face of my deformed cares. With withered browes, all wrinckled with dispaires, That for my mis-spent youth the tears fel fro 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 ioyes arise. Yet in these ioyes, the shadowes of my good. In this fayre limned ground as white as snow, Paynted the blackest Image of my woe. With murthering hands imbrud in mine own blood : And in this Image his darke clowdy eyes, My life, my youth, my loue, I heere Anotamize. u 2 166 IDEAS MIRUOUR. Amour .15. Now, Loue, if tliou wilt proue a Conqueror, Subdue tliys 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; He fetter her in chaincs of purest loue. My sighes 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. He binde her then with my torne-tressed haire, And racke her with a thousand holy wishes ; Then, on a place prepared for her there, He execute her with a thousand kisses. Thus will I crucifie my cruell shee; Thus lie plague her which hath so plagued mee. IDEAS MIREOUE. 157 Amour .16. Vertues Idea in virginitie, By inspiration, came conceau'd with thought : The time is come deluered 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 presaged influence) Bequeath'd his wardship to my soueraignes eye; Where hunger-staruen, wanting lookes to Hue, Still empty gorg'd, with cares consumption pynde, Salt luke-warme teares shee for his drinke 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. 158 IDEAS MIREOUK. 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. Where not Inuention stauld, treading Inuentions maze, Or my swift- winged Muse tyred by too hie flying; Did not pe?:fection still on her perfection gaze. Whilst Loue (my Phoenix bird) in her own 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 Errinis 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 Astrcea, But euer call vpon diuine Idea. IDEAS MIRROUR. 159 Amour .19. If those ten Eegions, 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 dyd diuine, This earth of those sweet Prophets hath bereft. And since the world to iudgement doth declyne, Insteed often, one Sibil to vs left. Thys pure Idea, vertues right Idea, Shee of whom Merlin long tyme did fore-tell. Excelling her o? Delphos or Cumcea, 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, frantick 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 Helyoon, and some faire Simois : A, fooles ! thinke I, had you Idea seene, Poore Brookes and Banks had no such wonders beene. 160 IDEAS MIBROUR. 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. 0, 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 bu-rne ; That euery thing whence shadow doth proceede. May in his shadow my Loues story reade. Amour .22. My hart, imprisoned in a hopeless He, 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, Wliich by theyr nature learn'd to mount the skye ; And with the same he practised to flye. Till he himselfe 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. IDEAS MIRBOUE. 161 Amour .23. Wonder of Heauen, giasse of diuinitie, Eare beauty, Natures ioy, 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 imortalize. 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 4 MOWS fame to Alhyons 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 extoU theyr Wilys fame, And old Legea brags of Danish blood : Ardens sweet Ankor, let thy glory be That fayre Idea shee doth liue by hee. 162 IDEAS MIRROUB. 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 ayrej Which from her lyps exhald refined sweet, A -Crorld 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 aduaunc'd her lyght, As though the heauen had now awak'd her eyes, And summond Angels to thys blessed sight. No clowde was scene, but christalline the ayre. Laughing for ioy vpon my lonely 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. The 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 ! IDEAS MIRROUR. 163 Amour .27. My Loue makes bote the fire whose heat is spent, The water moisture from my teares deriueth, And my strong sighes the ayres weake force reuiueth : This 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 aflfected 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. x2 164 IDEAS MIEROTJR. Amour .29. 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. starre of starres ! fayre Planet mildly moouing, Lampe of vertue! sun-bright, euer shyning, mine eyes -Comet ! so admyr'd by louing, cleerest day-starre ! neuer more declyning. 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 immortall hath enrold thee ! 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 secrete waite do'st lye. And to my hart 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. IDEAS MIRROUR. 165 Amour. 31. Sitting alone, loue bids me goe and write ; Eeason 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 Eeasons 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 Eeasons 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 ynto 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 Phcenix 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. 166 IDEAS MIEEOTJR. 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, suroharg'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 wanes and winde. See where she flotes, laden with purest loue, Wkich those fayre Hands 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 forforne, 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. IDEAS MIRBOTIR. 167 Amour .35. See, chaste Diana, 'where my harmles hart, Eouz'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, sleeps 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 rcuiuing. And others foe the others foe imbrace. ^ Myne eyes beheld thys conflict in thy face. 168 IDEAS MIUBOUR. Amour .37. I euer loue where neuer hope appeares, Yet hope drawes on my neuer-hoping care, And my lines 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 denoted 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 raisd her fame. Though these, nor these deserue to be imbraced, Yet, faire vnkinde, too good to be disgraced. IDEAS MIKROUR. 169 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 : sweet'st reuenge that ere the heauens gaue ! And with the swan record thy dyiiig song. And praise her still to thy vntiniely 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. 0, 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 ; for sure of thence thou art. 170 IDEAS MIRROUB. Amour. 41. Rare of-spring of my thoughts, my deerest Loue, Begot hy 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 endlesse care, Lyke idle Ecchoes euer aunswering; 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 ! now is 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 wanes (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. IDEAS MIREOUR. 171 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 fl.ame increaseth, Filling mine eares with noise and nightly groning, Toy ling 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 tumeth ; But with those drops the coles againe reuyuing. Still more and more vnto my torment burneth. With Sisiphus thus doe I role tlie stone, And turne the wheele with damned Ixion. t2 172 IDEAS MIRBOITR. Amour. 45. Blacke pytcliy Niglit, 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 ; vertue ! which all vertues doe adore, Cheefe good, from whom all good things wee deriue, rare effect ! true bond of friendships measure, Conceite of Angels, which all wisdom teachest; 0, richest Casket of all heauenly treasure, In secret silence which such wonders preachest ! purest merror ! wherein men may see The liuely Image of Diuinitie. IDEAS MIEROUE,. 173 Amour. 47 The golden Sunne vpon his fiery wheeles The horned Earn 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 youthful! 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 that lustre of her sight; So may the learned like the similie. The mornings Crimson to her lyps alike. The sweet oi Eden to her breathes perfume, The fayre Elizia to her fayrer cheeke, Vnto her veynes the onely Phcenix plume. The Angels tresses to her tressed hayre. The Galixia to her more than 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. 174 IDEAS MIKROUR. 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 vertuebe 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 prone 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. IDEAS MIRROTJR. 175 Amour- 51. Goe you, my lynes, Embassadors of loue, With my harts trybute to her conquering eyes, From whence, if you one teare 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. NOTES TO IDEAS MIEEOVR. p. 146, 1. 5. Amour 34, line 13, for forforne, read forlome.] Line 13 here is a mistake, by Drayton or his printer, for line 11 : see p. 166, 1. 27. P. 147, 1. 2. Ma. Anthony Cooke, Esquire.] i. e. Master Anthony Cooke, with the addition of " Esquire," which was not very unusual at that date. When Drayton reprinted this dedicatory poem in 1605 as No. 64, among the " certaine other Sonnets to great and worthy Personages," he entitled it " To sir Anthonie Cooke," who previously to that date had been knighted. He was possibly grandson, or otherwise related, to Sir Anthony Cooke, the tutor of Edward VI., although no son is mentioned in the usual biographical authorities. Sir Anthony Cooke had certainly four, if not five, daughters: — Mildred, married to Lord Burghley ; Anne, married to Sir Nicholas Bacon ; Elizabeth, married first to Sir Thomas Hobby and afterwards to the Earl of Bedford ; and Katharine, married to Sir Henry Kilhgrew. If he had a fifth daughter her Christian name is not known, but it is stated by Camden, Strype, &c. that she married Sir Ealph Rowlett. P. 147, 1. 5. Which long (dear friend) haue slept in sable night.] Hence we learn that these sonnets had been written some time before they were printed in 1594. P. 147, 1. 14. Nor filch from Portes nor from Petrarchs pen, J By " Portes " Drayton doubtless refers to Philip Desportes, a French poet, whose sonnets, &c. would pro- bably not have been so popular, had he not (like one at least of modern times) been so rich. We know of no avowed printed translations from Desportes before Drayton wrote, and he speaks of the manner in which some versifiers had " filched " from these not very original foreign productions. Spenser had admitted his obliga- tions, and printed his sonnets as direct translations from Petrarch and Bellay. Sir Philip Sidney, in the 15th sonnet of his " Astrophel and Stella," speaks in much the same strain, but in rather darker terms, of poets who had " denizened " the wit of Petrarch — " You that poore Petrarchs long deceased woes With new-borne sighes and denisend wit do sing." Edit. fo. 1598, p. 524. NOTES. 177 It is worth remarking that in the surreptitious edition of " Astrophel and Stella," 1591, 4to. to whioli Thomas Nash prefixed so interesting an epistle, the last hne is made to run, " With new-borne sighes and wit disguised sing." At a subsequent date (1597 and 1598) Bishop Hall laughed at the " plagiary sonnet-wrights " who copied from Petrarch (lib. iv. sat. 2), and, using Drayton's word, "filched whole pages at a clap " (lib. vi. sat. 1) from the same Italian poet: he says nothing, however, of the imitators of Bellay and Desportes. P. 147, 1. 17. I am no Pickpurse of anothers wit.J This line is from Sidney's " Astro- phel and Stella," sonnet 74, edit. 1598, fo. " Some do I heare of Poets furie tell, But (God wot) wot not what they meane by it : And this I sweare by blackest brooke of hell, I am no pick-purse of anothers wit. ' ' This passage stands the same in Nash's edit, of " Astrophel and Stella," 1591. Daniel complains, in the epistle before his " Delia," 1592, 4to. that some of his poems had been confounded with those of other men ; and he alleges this as his main reason for publishing his Sonnets, free from the blemishes belonging to the MS. copies which Nash had printed, and inserted at the end of his edition of " Astrophel and Stella.'' Daniel's Sonnets must have been extremely popular, for they were twice printed in 1592, again in 1594, and often afterwards. P. 148, 1. 4. Pandoras poesy, and her huing fame. J We have already seen Drayton, in his sixth Eclogue (p. 95), celebrating the Countess of Pembroke as Pandora; and here his friend Gorbo (whoever may have been intended by that nom de plume), one of the speakers in that Eclogue, makes the same allusion. P. 148, 1. 7. Of earths great Queene in Nectar-dewed verse.] This passage has appa- rent reference to Drayton's third Eclogue (p. 75), which is mainly devoted to the applause of Elizabeth, under the name of Beta. " Areede," in the next hne, means understand, explain, or advise. P. 148, 1. 13. In this his myrror of Ideas praise.] See Drayton's fifth Eclogue (p. 87), which contains the praise of Idea, from the mouth of Rowland. P 148 1. 19. Gorbo il fidele.] Doubtless the same Gorbo who figures prominently in Drayton's Eclogues. He was probably some known poet of the time ; for this introductory sonnet bears testimony to his graceful versification, and he himself states, in our author's eighth Eclogue (p. Ill), that he had "by moon-shine z 178 IDEAS MIRBOUIl. made the fairies sport." Why at the end of this Sonnet he applies to himself the epithet ilfidele, it would be vain to inquire. P. 149, 1. 2. Eeade heere (sweet Mayd) the story of my wo.] When Drayton reprinted this Sonnet in 1605, 8vo. it formed the 54th in the collection, under the general heading of " Idea," and opened with this line: — " Yet reade at last the story of my woe ;" and for " Hues sorrow," in the third line, we find " like sorrow " there substituted, possibly a misprint from mis-hearing. P. 149, 1. 17. My fayre, if thou wilt register my loue.] This forms Sonnet 55 in the collection printed in 1605, and the author made no alteration in it. P. 150, 1. 2. My thoughts bred.vp with Eagle-birds of loue. J No. 56 in the collection of 1605, and without change. P. 150, 1. 3. And for their vertues I desierd to know.] " For'' is here, as in many other places, used instead of because. P. 150, 1. 10. But now their plumes, full sumd with sweet desire.] Todd, in his edit, of Johnson's Diet., only quotes Milton for the use of " summ'd," and explains it "full grown:" it does not refer so much to the growth, as to the number of the feathers, to the complete sum of the plumage, of a bird. When Drayton reprinted this sonnet he spelled the word summde. The affected author of " Zepheria," (a series of forty Sonnets printed in the same year as Drayton's " Idea's Mirrovr,") also uses the word " summd," and in the same way : — " Sweet babes of Tellus and Hiperion, When ye full soom'd in winters mew doon mooting." He here and elsewhere imitates a rustic dialect, and uses a few of Drayton's favourite words, talking of '■ Amours" and of " divine Idea," while he also ex- presses his admiration of Daniel and Sidney. His lines prove that, whoever he were, he could have had no ear for measure or music, and he is full of conceited allusions. He mentions his own "pastorals" and comic poems, none of which, however, have reached our time. P. 150, 1. 17. My faire, had not I erst adornd my Lute.J This is one of the sonnets which Drayton did not afterwards reprint in the collection of his poems published in 1605. P. 151, 1. 2. Since holy Vestall lawes haue been neglected.] Drayton afterwards wrote a sonnet something like this, entitled '' To the VestaUs,'' and numbered it 30 in the edit. 1605. It is inserted in another part of our volume. NOTES. 179 P. 151, 1. 17. In one whole world is but one Phosnix found.] We may perhaps suspect a misprint here — " one " for owr; but the change is not necessary. In 1605 Dray- ton altered the first quatrain as follows : — " Within the compasse of this spacious round, Amongst all birds the Phoenix is alone, Which, but by you, could neuer haue beeno knowne : None like to that, none like to you is found." The rest is as it appears in " Idea's Mirrovr," with the change only of you for " thou " and ymr for '' thy." It is headed " To the Phcenix " in 1605. P. 152, 1. 2. Stay, stay, sweet Time; behold, or ere thou passe. j This forms Sonnet 17 in Drayton's Poems, 1605, 8vo. ; but he altered it for the better in two respects: the somewhat obscure line, " What shee was then, and thou, or ere shee was," he amended to " What it was then, what thou, before it was." He also cut two syllables out of the alexandrine, with which the sonnet closed in 1594, by printing the line in this amended form " She was, whose like againe shall neuer be." P 152, 1. 17. Vnto the World, to Learning, and to Heauen.] The author was laiighed at for this sonnet, soon after its publication, in one of the Epigrams by J. D. i. e. Sir John Davys : it is this : — " Audacious painters have Nine Worthies made. But poet Decius, more audacious far, Making his mistress march with men of war, With title of Tenth Worthy doth her lade. Methinks that gull did use his terms as fit. Which term'd his love a giant for her wit." The above is headed In Decium, and the Epigram is numbered xxv. The " gull" appears to have been the Dametas of Sir Philip Sidney in his "Arcadia," where (according to Ben Jonson in his Conversation with Drummond, edit. Shakesp. Soc. 1842, p. 15) Dametas says, " For wit his mistress might be a giant." In spite of ridicule, Drayton repeated this sonnet in subsequent editions of his Poems, making, in 1605, only one at all material alteration, in the ninth line — " My worthy one to these nine worthies addeth." z2 180 IDEAS MIRROUE. This change of the preposition was expedient. "Nine worthy ones " for "nine worthy men,'' in the preceding line, is not a misprint, in 1605. P. 153, 1. 2. Beauty sometime, in all her, glory crowned. J This sonnet was made the fourth in Drayton's edit, of 1605; though, perhaps, from the far-fetched conceit on which it is founded, hardly worthy of so prominent a place. The poet only inserted two verbal changes in it, viz. thought for " deemd," and cast for " threw." P. 153, 1. 17. Oft taking pen in hand, with words to cast my woes. J When the author reprinted this sonnet he corrected some of its varieties of measure, and such of the lines as we here find of twelve syllables he reduced to ten, without any sacri- fice of meaning, thus : — " Taking my pen, with words to cast my woes, Duely to count the sum of all my cares, I finde my griefe innumerahle growes, The recknings rise to millions of dispaires, &c." It forms No. 3 of the collection of Drayton's "Poems" in 1605. P. 153, 1. 2. Thine eyes taught me the Alphabet of loue.] We may presume that Dray- ton liked this sonnet, for in 1605 he put it as the introduction to all the rSst, and made no change whatever in it. P. 154, 1. 17. Some Atheist or vile Infidell in loue.] In 1605 Drayton postponed this sonnet to No. 35, and made various changes in it, beginning it with this line: — " Some misbelieving and prophane in loue,'' as if the words " atheist '' and " infidel," so applied, were considered objectionable. In the last line, as it stood in 1594, " By thy great power, and by strong fayth in thee," the preposition " by " in the second instance ought perhaps to be " my;" but when the author remodelled the whole, he gave the last line rather tamely as follows : — " Onely by vertue that proceedes from thee." P. 155, 1. 2. Cleere Ankor, on whose siluer-sanded shore.] This address to the river Ankor is headed in the subsequent impression of 1605 " Another to the Eiuer Ankor," and is numbered 53. The misprint of " by " for my, in the penultimate line, is noticed among the misprints at the back of the title-page in 1594: see our reprint, p. 146. Precisely the same blunder occurs in H. Constable's " Diana," Sonnet vi., as reprinted, in the couplet NOTES. 181 " And enuious beares enuy that by thought Should in his absence be to her so nie. Here " by thought" ought to be my thought, as shown by the edit, of 1592, 4to. where it appears as sonetto undecimo. This vokime is so great a rarity that only one copy is known of it, and that perhaps imperfect : unlike the reprint, made a few years afterwards and divided into eight Decads, it consists of only two-and-twenty sonnets, and bears the following title, " Diana. The praises of his Mistres, in certaine sweete Sonnets. By H. C. — London, Printed by I. C. for Eichard Smith : and are to be sold at the West doore of Paules, 1592.'' 4to. Our readers may be glad to see the earliest sonnet it contains, because it was never reprinted. To Ms absent IHana. " Seuer'd from sweete Content, my Hues sole light, Banisht by ouer-weening wit from my desire, This poore acceptance onely I require, That though my fault haue forc'd me from thy sight. Yet that thou wouldst (my sorrowes to requite) Review these Sonnets, pictures of thy praise ; Wherein each woe thy wondrous worth doth raise, Though first thy worth bereft me of delight. See them forsaken : for I them forsooke, Forsaken first of thee, next of my sence ; And when thou deignst on their blacke teares to looke, Shed not one teare my teares to reoompence ; But ioy in this (though Fates gainst me repine) My verse still liues to witnes thee diuine." For " woe," in the seventh line, we should be disposed to read word; but the poet may allude to the woes expressed by his words. P. 155, 1. 17. Looking into the glasse of my youths miseries.] In the fourth line " the tears fel from my eyes " reads like a misprint, and in 1605 Drayton amended it to " the teares fall from mine eyes.'' In the last line but one " Image his " is to be understood " Image's," as we now print the Saxon genitive: nevertheless, the poet did not subsequently alter it. " Anotamize " is not a misprint, but an old corrupt form of the word. P. 15ti, 1. 2. Now, Loue, if thou wilt proue a Conqueror.] Neither this, nor the next, irregular sonnet, each of 16 lines, was reprinted. They are in nearly the same form as Thomas Watson's poems in his " Ekatompathia," printed about 1581, and may be said, in some sort, to imitate them. 182 IDEAS MIRROUB. P. 156, 1. 11. She'st quench her thirst as duly as they fall] This is a very unusual ab- breviation for " She musty We do not recollect any other instance where it is employed. P. 157, 1. 2. Vertues Idea in virginitie.j We cannot be surprised that the author after- wards discarded this wretched piece of over-strained ingenuity : the blunder of " deluerd " for deliuered is pointed out, hke others, at the back of the title-page. P 158, 1. 2. If euer wonder could report a wonder.] This Sonnet also, if sonnet we may call it, was afterwards, as it were, disowned by its author: it is unworthy of him, and is rather an imitation of an exploded style, than the natural expression ot passion. The first line alone has the proper number of syllables. P. 158, 1. 17. Some, when in ryme they of their Loues doe teU.] This production is numbered 39 in the reprint of 1605, where it is somewhat altered : thus, the seventh and eighth lines there stand, " The thrice three Muses hut too wanton be ; Like they that lust, I care not ; I will none.'"' Drayton does not seem to have given himself much trouble about the proper spelling of classic names; and we have seen him using " Elizia'' near the close of his fourth Eclogue, but here, in 1605, he altered it to Elizium. P. 158,1. 26. My manhood dares not with foule Ate mell.] To "mell" is only a colloquial abbreviation of to meddle : Shakespeare and others of his time employed it ; as for instance Constable, in his " Diana," Decad viii. son. 5, of the reprint, made, probably, in 1594, when compositions of this kind were the fashion: " No more shall pen with loue and beauty mell." P. 159, 1. 2. If those ten Regions, registred by Fame.] The somewhat profane allusion in this sonnet ' possibly induced Drayton afterwards to omit it ; and it certainly contains nothing to compensate sufficiently for this blemish. P. 159, 1. 17. Reading sometyme, my sorrowes to beguile.] This is headed " To Won- der " in 1605, where it stands No. 36, without alteration. It will be remembered, with reference to the sixth line, that " frosty " is the epithet applied to the Cau- casus by Shakespeare, in " Richard II." A. i, sc. 3. P. 160, 1. 2. Letters and lynes, we see, are soone defaced.] Numbered 13 in 1605, the only material alteration being the omission of the words " by night '' in the 12th ' line of the Sonnet, for the sake of avoiding the alexandrine. " Offeree," in 1. 6, is equivalent to of necessity, or of course. P. 160, 1. 17, My hart, imprisoned in a hopeless He.] This is called "An allusion to NOTES. 183 Dedalus and Icarus,'' and forms " Sonnet 52 " of the later impression. The author made no change in it. P. 160, 1. 28. Thus was the wanton cause of his owne woe. J The thought here has been the common property of many poets ; and Daniel had been beforehand with Dray- ton, where, in Sonnet xxvii. of his '' Delia," 1592, he says " Yet her I blame not, though she might haue blest mee, But my desires "wings so high aspiring Now melted with the sun that hath possest mee, Downe doe I fall from off my high desiring," &c. B. Griffin, who was an imitator of nearly every sonneteer of his day, including Sidney, Watson, Constable, Daniel, and Drayton (not to mention older Gascoigne, whom in one place he slavishly follows), says nearly the same thing. It is therefore almost out of the question to suppose that he could be the author of the sonnet, " Venus with young Adonis sitting by her," &c. which is found in his " Fidessa," 1596: Jaggard and he took it from the same source ; with this difference, that Griffin pretended to be the author of it, while Jaggard was only the printer of it, and imputed it, probably correctly, to Shakespeare. See CoUier's Shakesp. viii. 568. P. 161, 1. 2. Wonder of Heauen, glasse of diuinitie.j Perhaps this sonnet was struck out after 1594 by Drayton, because the allusion to the Trinity, in the first quatrain, might be objectionable. P. 161, 1, 17. Our floods-Queene, Thames, for shyps and Swans is crowned.] This sonnet is entitled, in the edit, of 1605, " To the riuer Ankor:" it is there unaltered, and is numbered 32. P. 161, 1. 20. And Auons fame to Albyons Cliues is raysed.] As yet Shakespeare had done comparatively little to raise the " Avons fame," although his " Venus and Adonis " had been pubhshed in 1593. The lady whom Drayton designates as Idea lived near the Ankor, as, among other places, we find at the conclusion of the present sonnet. Daniel's Delia, however, must have dwelt on, or near, the Avon, and the last six Unes of his 48th sonnet are these : '' No, no ; my verse respects nor Thames, nor Theaters, Nor seekes it to be known vnto the great ; But Avon, rich in fame though poore in waters, Shall haue my song, where Delia hath her seate. Avon shall be my Thames, and she my song ; lis sound her name the riuer all along." 1st Edit. 1592, 4to., Sign. G. 4 b. 18'i IDEAS MIEBOTJB. P. 162, 1. 2. The glorious sunne went blushing to his bed.] There seems no sufficient reason for the exclusion of this sonnet from Drayton's collection of " Poems" in 1605, but it is not found there. P. 162,1. 17. Cupid, dumbe-IdoU, peeuish Saint of loue.J This became Sonnet 48 in 1605; and in the two first quatrains Drayton made various verbal changes, as " Loues goddess " for '' a goddesse " in the third line ; " thy bow olde broke " for " the bow halfe broke " in the fifth line: instead of the seventh line he substituted, '* And euery one of purest golden wire.'' For " able to kyll an hoste of Kings " he wrote " of force to conquer hoasts of Kings." He introduced no change in the concluding sestiad. P. 163, 1. 2. My Loue makes hote the fire whose heat is spent.] Drayton's taste seems afterwards not to have been satisfied with this sonnet: he therefore excluded it. P. 163, 1. 17. Some wits there be which lyke my method well.] In 1605 (No. 42 of the sonnets) Drayton moderated the commencement thus : — " Some men there be which like my method well, And do commend the strangenes of my vaine:" and in the fifth line he also subdued his self-praise by reading, " Some who not kindely relish my conceit.'' The concluding couplet appears as follows in that impression : — " Onely my comfort still consists in this, Writing her praise, I cannot write amisse ;" which is an improvement, if only by the correction of the alexandrine. P. 163, 1. 27. It pleaseth me if I my plaints rehearse.] Daniel says much the same thing, with great elegance of illustration, in the 49th sonnet of his " Delia," 1592, " What though my selfe no honor get thereby, Each byrd sings t' herselfe, and so will I." Goethe, the great German, perhaps never heard of this sonnet by Daniel, yet he has the same sentiment: " Ich singe wie der Vogel i Der in den Zweigen wohnet ; Das Lied, das aus der Kehle dringt 1st Lohn, der reichlich lohnet" Gedichte, Pt. I. p. 109. NOTES. 185 wMch may thus be rendered : I sing like bird in greenwood tree Its notes of gladsome burden ; The song it warbles blithe and free Is its own richest guerdon. Or thus, rather less literally and quaintly : The bird that sings in greenwood tree, Although but unregarded, Is by the song it warbles free Abundantly rewarded. This is another among a thousand proofs how poets, in the same mood of mind, hit upon the same thoughts, without the slightest pretext for saying that they borrowed from each other. The expression " I passe not I," just above, means I heed not, or I care not for. P. 164, 1. 2. O eyes ! behold your happy Hesperus. J This interjectional elaboration did not afterwards find a place among Drayton's sonnets. P. 164, 1. 17. Three sorts of serpents doe resemble thee.j Of this production also we subsequently find no trace in the poet's works. P. 165, 1. 2. Sitting alone, loue bids me goe and write.] In the edit, of 1605 this son- net is numbered 38, and it underwent no important change: the epithet " senceles " is struck out before " loue," but the measure is still preserved, by the inser- tion of " or " ' and " were ;" and in the twelfth line we have " Thought it in weight too light," applying the censure, therefore, to " Eeason's reason," and not to Eeason itself. P. 165,1. 17. Those teares, which quench my hope, stiU kindle my desire.] We never meet with this irregular performance afterwards : it is very lame, and perhaps the writer did not think it worth while to cure its orthopedic deformities. P. 166, 1. 2. Whilst thus mine eyes doe stirfet with delight.] No sonnet in the whole of " Ideas Mirrovr " is more changed than this, or perhaps more required it. The differences are so material, that it is necessary here to quote it from the impression of 1605, where it is numbered 83, and addressed *' To ZriiagiTicction. " Whilst yet mine eies doe surfet with delight, My wofuU hart, imprisond in my breast, Wisheth to be transformed in my sight, That it, like those, by looking might be blest. 2 A 186 IDEAS MIRROUK. But whilst mine eies thus greedily doe gaze, Finding their objects over-soone departe, These now the others happines doe praise, Wishing themselues that they had bin my hart ; That eies were hart, or that the hart were eies, As couetous the others vse to haue ; But finding reason their retjuest denies. This to each other mutually they craue ; That since the one cannot the other bee, That eies could thinke, or that my hart could see." P. 166, 1. 17. My fayre, looke from those turrets of thine eyes.] We do not find this sonnet repeated in after-editions of Drayton, yet in grace and force of expres- sion, though not perhaps in originality of imagery, it may be preferred to many others. " Ballase," in the eighth line, is the old form of what we now commonly write ballast, but the poet here seems rather to use it for the lading of his ship. He was not alone in this respect. P. 167, 1. 2. See, chaste Diana, where my harmles hart.] This not very happy effusion is not elsewhere printed : some of the terms in it, such as " beauty's stone? " (meaning the favourable station taken by a shooter) are technical. Drayton uses " deer " to express the male, as well as female: " laft,'' for left, in the penulti- mate line, though not unprecedented (see Fairfax's Tasso, 1600, b. i. st. 59, &c.), was constrained by the necessity of the rhyme ; but it cannot excuse the blunder ' of grammar in the last line, which is probably attributable to the printer. P. 167, 1. 17. Sweete, sleepe so arm'd with Beauties arrowes darting.] A mere piece of almost unintelligible versification, which the poet did not repeat. In the ninth line " sleepe " is misprinted seepe, a letter having dropped out. P. 168, 1. 2. I euer loue where neuer hope appeares.] We almost wonder that Drayton thought this artificial rapture worth preserving, but it forms No. 26 of the sonnets under the heading of " Idea" in edit. 1605. P. 168, 1. 17. If chaste and pure deuotion of my youth.] This is better than the last: nevertheless, it did not find a place in any reprint. P. 169, 1. 2. Die, die, my soule, and neuer taste of ioy.] Not printed, we believe, except- ing in " Ideas Mirrovr," 1594. P. 169, 1. 8. And mth the swan record thy dying song.] Here again we have " record " technically applied to the singing of a bird. See note to p. 65, 1. 13. P. 169, 1. 17. O, thou vnkindest fayre ! most fayrest shee.] This sonnet is mentioned at NOTES. 187 the back of the title-page, as one of those containing an error of the press: it is in the last line, which ought to run, " Goe, Bastard, goe, for sure of thence thou art." Drayton allowed himself no subsequent opportunity of setting the matter right. P. 169, 1. 21. Thy mother dyd her lyfe to death resigne.J From this quatrain we may infer, that both the parents of the lady whom Drayton calls " Idea " were dead when he wrote. Possibly, the poet was only supposing them dead for the purpose of his sonnet. P. 170, 1. 2. Rare of-spring of my thoughts, my deerest Loue.j Not anywhere reprinted. P. 170, 1. 17- Plac'd in the forlorne hope of all dispayre. J Also never reprinted. P. 171, 1. 2. Why doe I speake of ioy, or write of loue.j This is No. 41 in the collection as it appeared in 1605, but the second quatrain there stands as follows: — ' ' What should I say ? what yet remaines to doe .' My braine is drie with weeping all too long ; My sighes be spent in vttring of my woe, And I want words wherewith to tell my wrong." P. 171, 1. 17. My hart the Anuile where my thoughts doe beate.J This well-hammered simile is made No. 40 in the reprint, with only the change of a word, and that, most likely, an error of the press; viz. same for "flame" in the fifth line: "gleed," in the tenth line, is burning coal. P. 172, 1. 2. Blacke pytchy Night, companyon of my woe.J This anathema of Night appeared no where else, that we are aware of. P. 172, 1. 17. Sweet secrecie, what tongue can tell thy worth.] The same remark will apply to this apostrophe. According to a passage cited from Drayton in "England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 259, " Secrecie is the crowne of a true Lover;'' but unfortunately the works from which the quotations are there taken are never mentioned. How much the value of the reprint in " Heliconia," vol. iii. would have been enhanced even by an attempt to supply this great deficiency we need not say. It is not even now too late, and we know that hundreds of the most obscure quotations have been verified by one well-read individual. P. 173, 1. 2. The golden Sunne vpon his fiery wheeles.J Drayton does not seem to have considered this sonnet worth preserving elsewhere. He was right. P. 173,1.9. Till Virgins smyles doe sound his sweet reteere.J The constraint of the rhyme induced our author to spell retire " reteere," as the French would pronounce 2 a2 188 IDEAS MIREOTJR. it. This course is not by any means without precedent : Fairfax generally spells his rhymes so that one shall follow the form of the other; and Thomas Watson had done the same as Drayton, with a different word, in the 24th sonnet of his " Tears of Fancie, or Loue Disdained," 1593 : — "Still let me live forlorne, and die disdained, My hart consenting to continuall languish, If loue (my harts sore) may not be obtained, But with the danger of my Ladies anguish. Let me oppose my selfe gainst sorrowes force, A.nd arm my hart to beare woes heavy load : Vnpittied let me die, without remoree. Rather then monster fame shall blase abroad. That I was causer of her woes induring. Or brought faire beauty to so fowle a domage : If life or death might be her ioyes procuring, Both life, loue, death and all should doe her homage. But she lines safe in freedomes liberty ; I line and die in loues extremitie." Here the French spelling of " domage " (omitting one m) was compulsory, because it was to rhyme with " homage." Only a single copy of Watson's " Tears of Fancie " is known, and that wants two leaves, which contained sonnets severally numbered 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, and 16. The whole consisted of sixty sonnets, with the initials T. W. at the end: farther specimens would here be out of place, but as a piece' of bibliographical information, we quote the full title-page: — " The Tears of Fancie, Or, Loue Disdained, ^tna grauius Amor. — Printed at London for Wil- liam Barley dwelling in Gratious streete over against Leaden Hall. 1593." 4to. P. 173, 1. 17. Who list to praise the dayes delicious lyght. J Not reprinted. If Drayton had himself corrected the press of this small volume, he would hardly have per- mitted Oalixia in the tenth line to stand; but nearly all our old poets were careless in such matters. P, 174, 1. 2. Define my loue, and teU the ioyes of heauen.J The author thought better of this sonnet than of several we have recently passed, and inserted it in the col- lection of 1605 as No. 60. There is a typographical blunder, in the original edit, of 1594, in the line ** Tell me, if euer since the world begunne," where " TeU me " is misprinted " Till me." The poet altered the last four lines thus, as will be seen, correcting the error : NOTES. 189 " Tell me, if euer since the world begunne, So faire a rising had so foule a set ? And, by all meanefe, let foule vnkindnes prone, And shew a second to so pure a loue/^ P. 174, 1. 17. When first I ended, then I first began.] Exactly reprinted in 1605, as No. 61 of the sonnets inserted under the title of" Idea." It may be doubted whether " when" and " then " ought not to be where and there. P. 175, 1. 2. Groe you my lynes. Embassadors of loue.] Drayton excluded this sonnet after 1594. The lines " And let Inuention of her beauty vaunt. When Dorus sings his sweet Pamelas loue," have reference to Sir Philip Sidney's " Arcadia," in which these personages promi- nently figure. It may be said, therefore, that Drayton began and ended with the praises of the soldier-poet, or poet-soldier : he names Sidney in his first sonnet, and alludes to him in his last. We may not inappropriately conclude with an unquoted tribute to Sidney by a popular writer in a very rare production — Eichard Barnefield in his " Affectionate Shepheard," 1594. ' ' O fading branches of decaying Bayes ! "Who now shall water your dry witherd armes ? Or where is he that sung the louely layes Of simple Shepheards in their countrey farmes ? Ah ! he is dead, the cause of all our harmes ; And with him dide my ioy and sweete delight : The cleare to clowdes, the day is turn'd to night. Sydney, the Syren of this latter age, Sydney, the blazing-starre of Englands glory ; Sydney, the wouder of the wise and sage, Sydney, the subieot of true Vertues story ! This Syren, Starre, this Wonder, and this Subiect Is dumbe, dim, gone, and mard by Fortune's obieot." Barnefield might easily have terminated with a better couplet, and the stanza seems to want a line ; but it is in the same form as the tribute to Watson, which immediately follows, under the name of Amintas. In the same work Barnefield especially applauds Spenser, and we have placed his praise of Drayton in the Introduction to the present work. The name of Barnefield is an important one in relation to Shakespeare, and 190 IDEAS MIimOTJR. we subjoin an exact copy of the title-page of his " Affectionate Shepheard," of which Mr. Heber's was the only exemplar we ever had an opportunity of examining, and but one other is known to be in existence — " The Affectionate Shepheard. Containing the Complaint of Daphnis for the loue of Ganimede. — Amoi- plus mellis quam fellis est. — London, Printed by lohn Danter for T. G. and E. N. and are to bee sold in Saint Dunstones Church-yeard in Fleetstreet. 1594." 4to. There is no mark of Barnefield's authorship ; but in his " Cynthia," which came out in the next year, he acknowledged " The Affectionate Shepheard," while at the same time he repudiated " Greene's Funerals,'' 1594, and " Orpheus his Journey to Hell," 1595, both of which had been published with his initials. In a volume devoted to Drayton we ought not to omit to notice the third division of Barnefield's " Affectionate Shepheard," which consists of a poem on a subject which Drayton had already chosen: it is called " The Complaint of Chas- titie. Briefely touching the cause of the death of Matilda Fitzwalters, an Enghsh Ladie, sometime loued of King John, after poysoned." Barnefield adds — " The storie is at large written by Michael Dreyton ; " and we know that Drayton's " Legend of Matilda" had been originally, but imperfectly, printed in 1594. Barnefield's poems (imputed to Shakespeare in " The Passionate Pilgrim," 1599,) were printed, as is well known, in his " Encomion of Lady Pecunia,'' which first appeared in 1598, and again in 1605, under the altered title of " Lady Pecunia, or the Praise of Money." For an account of this unique impression, see " Bridgewater Catalogue,'' privately printed by the Earl of Ellesmere, 1837, 4to. E N D I M I N and Phoebe. IDEAS LATMVS. Phcebus e7'it nostri princeps, et carminis Author. AT LONDON, Printed by lames Roberts, for lohn Busbie. TO THE EXCELLENT and most accomplisht Ladie : Lucie Countesse of Bedford. Great Ladie, essence of my cheefest good, Of the most pure and finest tempred spirit, Adornd 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 mindes with equall motion striue Which most in honor shall excell the other : Vnto thy fame my Muse her selfe shall taske. Which rain'st vpon mee thy sweet golden showers. And, but thy selfe, no subiect will I aske, Vpon whose praise my soule shall spend her powers. Sweet Ladie, then, grade this poore Muse of mine. Whose faith, whose zeale, whose life, whose all is thine. Your Honors humbly diuoted Michael Drayton. 2 B Rouland, wlieii first I red thy stately rymes In Sheeplieards -weedes, -when yet thou liu'dst vnknowne, Not seene in publique in those former tymes, But vnto Ankor tund'st thy Pype alone, I then beheld thy chaste Ideas fame Put on the wings of thine immortall stile, Whose rarest vertues, and deserued name Thy Muse renowns throughout this glorious He. Thy lines, like to the Lawrells pleasant shade. In after ages shall adorne her Herse, Nor can her beauties glory [ever] fade • Deckt in the coUours of thy happy verse : Thy fiery spirit mounts vp to the skye, And what thou writ'st Hues to Eternitye. E. P. To Idea. Amidst those shades wherein the Muses sit Thus to Idea my Idea sings : — Support of wisedome, better force of Wit, Which by desert desert to honour brings; Borne to create good thoughts by thy rare woorth, WTiom Nature with her bounteous store doth blesse, More excellent then Art can set thee forth, Happy in more then praises can expresse, Which by thy selfe shall make thy selfe continue. When all worlds glory shall be cleane forgot : Thus I, the least of skilfull Arts retinue, Write in thy prayse which time shall neuer blot. Heauen made thee what thou art ; till worlds be done Thy fame shall florish like the rising Sunne. S. G. 2ii 2 Endimion & Phoebe. Ideas Latmus. In I-onia, whence sprang old Poets fame From whom that Sea did first deriue her name, The blessed bed whereon the Muses lay. Beauty of Greece, the pride of Asia, Whence Archelaus, whom times historifie, First vnto Athens brought Philosophie, In this faire Kegion, on a goodly Plaine, Stretching her bounds vnto the bordring Maine, The Mountaine Latmus ouer-lookes the Sea, Smiling to see the Ocean billowes play : Latmus, where young Endimion vsd to keepe His fairest flock of siluer-fleeced sheepe ; To whom Siluanus often would resort At barly-breake to see the Satyres sport ; And when rude Pan his Tabret list to sound To see the faire Nymphes foote it in a round, Vnder the trees which on this Mountaine grew. As yet the like Arabia neuer knew, For all the pleasures Nature could deuise Within this plot she did imparadize ; And great Diana, of her speciall grace. With vestall rytes had hallowed all the place. 198 ENDIMIOX AND PHCEBE. Vpon this Mount there stood a stately Groue Whose reaching amies to clip the Welkin stroue, Of tufted Cedars, and the branching Pine, Whose bushy tops themselues doe so intwine, As seem'd when Nature first this work begun She then conspir'd against the piercing Sun : Vnder whose couert (thus diuinely made) Phoebus greene Laurell florisht in the shade ; Faire Venus Mertile, Mars his warlike Fyrre, ilineruas Oliue, and the weeping Myrhe, The patient Palme, which thriiies in spite of hate, The Popler, to Alcides consecrate. Which Nature in such order had disposed, And there-withall these goodly walkes inclosed, As seru'd for hangings and rich Tapestry To beautifie this stately Gallery. Imbraudring these in curious trailes along, The clustred Grapes, the golden Citrons hung : More glorious tht the precious fruite were these Kept by the Dragon in Hesperides ; Or gorgious Arras in rich colours wrought With silk from AfFrick, or from Indie brought. Out of thys soyle sweet bubling Fountains crept, As though for ioy the sencelesse stones had wept. With straying channels dauncing sundry wayes. With often turnes, like to a, curious Maze; Which breaking forth the tender grasse bedewed. Whose siluer sand with orient Pearle was strewed, ^hadowed with Eoses and sweet Eglantine, Dipping theyr sprayes into this christalline : From which the byrds the purple berries pruned. And to theyr loues their small recorders tuned. The Nightingale, woods Herauld of the Spring, The whistling Woosell, Mauis carroling, Tuning theyr trebbles to the waters fall. Which made the musicque more angelicall; ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. 199 Whilst gentle Zephyre, murmuring among, Kept tyme and bare the burthen to the song. About whose brims, refresht with dainty showers, Grew Amaranthus, and sweet Gilliflowers, The Marigold, Phoebus beloued frend. The Moly, which from sorcery doth defend; Violet, Carnation, Balme and Cassia, Ideas Primrose, coronet of May. Aboue this Groue a gentle faire ascent. Which by degrees of Milk-white Marble went, Vpon the top a Paradise was found, With which Nature this miracle had crownd^ Empald with Rocks of rarest precious stone, Which like the flames of Aetna brightly shone. And seru'd as Lanthornes, furnished with light. To guide the wandring passengers by night: For which fayre Phcebe, sliding from her sphere, Vsed oft times to come and sport her there ; And from the Azure starry-painted Sky Embalmd the bancks with precious lunary, That now her Menalus shee quite forsooke, And vnto Latmus wholy her betooke, And in this place her pleasure vs'd to take, And all was for her sweet Endimions sake : Endimion, the louely Shepheards boy, Endimion, great Phcebes onely ioy, Endimion, in whose pure-shining eyes The naked Faries daunst the heydegies. The shag-haird Satyrs Mountain-climing race Haue been made tame by gazing in his face : For this boyes loue the water-nymphs haue wept, Stealing oft times to kisse him whilst he slept, And tasting once the Nectar of his breath, Surfet with sweet, and languish vnto death : 200 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. And loue oft-times, bent to lasciuious sport, And comming where Endimion did resort. Hath courted him, inflamed with desire, Thinking some Nymph was cloth'd in boyes attire. And often-times the simple rural Swaines, Beholding him in crossing or'e the Plaines, Imagined Apollo from aboue Put on this shape to win some Maidens loue. This Shepheard Phoebe euer did behold, Whose loue already had her thoughts controld : From Latmus top (her stately throne) shee rose, And to Endimion downe beneath she goes. Her Brothers beames now had shee layd aside. Her horned cressent, and her full-fac'd pride; For had shee come adorned with her light. No mortall eye could haue endur'd the sight: But like a Nymph, crown'd with a flowrie twine, And not like Phcebe, as herselfe diuine. An Azurd Mantle purfled with a vaile. Which in the Ayre puft like a swelling saile, Embosted Rayne-bowes did appeare in silk, With wauie streames as white as mornings Milk : Which euer as the gentle Ayre did blow, Still with the motion seem'd to ebb and flow. About her neck a chayne, twise twenty fold, Of Eubyes set in lozenges of gold. Trust vp in trammels, and in curious pleats, With spheary circles falling on her teats. A dainty smock of Cipresse, fine and thin, Or'e cast with curls next to her Lilly skin ; Throgh which the purenes of the same did show Lyke Damaske-roses strew'd with flakes of snow, Discouering all her stomack to the waste. With branches of sweet circling veynes enchaste. ENDIMION AND PHOEBE. 201 A Coronet she ware of Mirtle bowes, Which gaue a shadow to her luory browes: No smother beauty maske did beauty smother ; " Great lights dim lesse, yet burn not one another: Nature abhors to borrow from the Mart, " Simples fit beauty, fie on drugs and Art ! Thus came shee where her loue Endimion lay. Who with sweet Carrols sang the night away; And, as it is the Shepheards vsuall trade, Oft on his pype a Koundelay he playd. As meeke he was as any Lambe might be. Nor neuer lyu'd a fayrer youth then he : His dainty hand the snow it selfe dyd stayne. Or her to whom loue showr'd in golden rayne : From whose sweet palme the liquid Pearle did swell. Pure as the drops of Aganippas Well, Cleere as the liquor which fayre Hebe spylt. Hys sheephooke siluer, damask'd all with gilt: The staffe it selfe of snowie luory. Studded with Currall, tipt with Ebony: His tresses of the Rauens shyning black, Stragling in curies along his manly back. The balls which nature in his eyes had set Lyke Diamonds inclosing Globes of let. Which sparkled from their milky lids out-right, Lyke fayre Orions heauen-adorning light ; The stars on which her heauenly eyes were bent, And 'fixed still with louely blandishment; For whom so oft disguised shee was seene As shee Celestiall Phoebe had not beene. Her dainty Buskins lac'd vnto the knee, Her pleyted Frock tuck'd vp accordingly ; A Nymph-like huntresse, arm'd with bow & dart, About the woods she secures the long-liu'd Hart. 2c 202 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. She climes tlic moutains with the hght-foot Fauns, And with the Satyrs scuds it or'e the launes. In Musicks sweet dehght shee shewes her skill, Quauering the Cithron nimbly with her quill: Vpon each tree she carues Endimions name In Gordian knots, with Phoebe to the same. To kill him Venson now she pitch'd her toyles, And to this louely Raunger brings the spoyles. And thus, whilst she by chaste desire is led Vnto the Downes where he his fayre Flocks fed, Neere to a Groue she had Endimion spide. Where he was fishing by a Kiuer side, Vnder a Popler shadowed from the Sun, Where merrily to court him she begun. Sweet boy (qd. she) take what thy hart can wish : When thou doost angle would I were a fish ! When thou art sporting by the siluer Brooks, Put in thy hand, thou need'st no other hooks. Hard harted boy, Endimion, looke on mee: Nothing on earth I hold too deere for thee. I am a Nimph, and not of humaine blood, Begot by Pan on Isis sacred flood. When I was borne, vpon that very day, Phcebus was seene the Reueller to play : In loues hye house the Gods assembled all. And luno held her sumptuous Festiuall; Oceanus that hower was dauncing spy'de, And Tython seene to frolick with his Bride; The Halcions that season sweetly sang. And all the shores with shouting Sea-Nymphes rang: And on that day, my birth to memorize. The Shepheards hold a solemne sacrifice. The chast Diana nurst mee in her lap. And I suckt xsectar from her Downe-soft pap. ENDIMION AND PHOEBE. 203 The Well, wherein this body bathed first, Who drinks thereof shall neuer after thirst : The water hath the Lunacie appeased, And by the vertue cureth all diseased. The place wherein my bare feet touch the mold, Made vp in balls for Pomander is sold. See, see, these hands haue robd the Snow of white, These dainty fingers, organs of delight : Behold these lyps, the Load-stones of desire. Whose words inchant like Amphyons well-tim'd lyre : This foote Arts iust proportio doth reueale. Signing the earth with heauens own manuel seale. Goe, play the wantoij; I will tend thy flock. And wait the howres as duly as a clock : lie deck thy Eam with bells, and wreathes of Bay, And gild his homes vpon the sheering day; And with a garlond crown thee Shepheards king, And thou shalt lead the gay Gyrles in a ring : Birds with their wings shall fan thee in the Sun, And all the fountaynes with pure Wine shall run. I haue a Quier of dainty Turtle-doues, And they shall sit, and sweetly sing our loues : He lay thee on the Swans soft downy plume, And all the Winde shall gently breath perfume : He plat thy locks with many a curious pleate, And chafe thy temples with a sacred heate: The Muses still shall keepe thee company, And lull thee with inchaunting harmony. If not all these, yet let my vertues moue thee; A chaster Nymph, Endimion, cannot loue thee. But he imagin'd she some Nymph had been. Because she was apparelled in greene ; Or happily some of fayre Floras trayne. Which oft did vse to sport vpon the Plaine. 2 C 2 204 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. He tels her lie was Phoebes seruant sworne, And oft in hunting had her Quiuer borne, And that to her virginity he vowed, Which in no hand by Venus was aiowed. Then, vnto her a Catalogue recites Of Phosbes Statutes, and her hallowed Eites, And of the grieuous penalty inflicted On such as her chast lawes had interdicted. Now he requests that shee would stand aside, Because the fish her shadow had espide ; Then he intreats her that she would be gone. And at this time to let him, be alone; Then turnes him from her in an angry sort. And frown es and chafes that shee had spoil'd his sport; And then he threatens her, if she did stay. And told her great Diana came this way. But for all this, this Nymph would not forbeare, But now she smoothes his crispy-curled haire; And when hee (rudely) will'd her to refrayne. Yet scarcely ended, she begins agayne. Thy Ewes (qd. she) with Milk shall daily spring. And to thy profit yeerely Twins shall bring ; And thy fayre flock (a wonder to behold) Shall haue their fleeces turn'd to burnisht gold; Thy batefull pasture to thy wanton Thewes Shall be refresht with Nectar-dropping dewes : The Oakes smooth leaues, sirropt with hony fall. Trickle down drops to quench thy thirst withall. The cruell Tygar will I tame for thee, And gently lay his head vpon thy knee ; And by my spells the Wolues iawes will I lock. And (as good Sheepheards) make them gard thy flock. He mount thee brauely on a Lyons back, To driue the fomy-tusked Bore to wrack: ENDIMION AND PHOEBE. 205 The brazen-hoofed yelling Bulls He yoke, And with my hearbs the scaly Dragon choke. Thou in great Phcebes luory Coche shalt ride, Which, drawne by Eagles, in the ayre shall glide: He stay the time, it shall not steale away, And twenty Moones as seeming but one day. Behold (fond boy) this Rozen-weeping Pine, This mournfull Larix, dropping Turpentine, This mounting Teda, thus with tempests torne. With incky teares continually to mourne ; Look on this tree, which blubbereth Amber gum. Which seemes to speak to thee, though it be dumb. Which being senceless blocks, as thou do'st see, Weepe at my woes, that thou might'st pitty mee. ! thou art young, and fit for loues profession. Like wax, which warmed quickly takes impressio : Sorrow in time with floods those eyes shall weare. Whence pitty now cannot extort a teare. Fond boy, with words thou might'st be overcome, , "But loue surpriz'd the hart, the tongue is dumbe. But, as I can, He striue to conquer thee; Yet teares & sighes my weapons needs must bee. My sighes moue trees, rocks melting with my tears, But thou art blind, and cruell stop'st thine eares. Locke in this Well, (if beautie men alow) Though thou be faire, yet I as fayre as thou: 1 am a Vestall, and a spotles Mayd, Although by loue to thee I am betrayd ; But sith (vnkinde) thou doost my loue disdayne. To rocks and hills my selfe I will complaine. Thus with a sigh her speeches of she broke, The whilst her eyes to him in silence spoke ; And from the place this wanton Nymph arose. And vp to Latmus all in hast shee goes : 206 ENDIMION AND PHOEBE. Like to a Nympli on shady Citheron, The swift Ismojnos, or Thirmodoon, Gliding like Thetis on the fleet waues borne, Or she which trips vpon the eares of Corne : Like Swallowes, when in open ayre they striue, Or like the Foule which towring Falcons drive. But whilst the wanton thus pursu'd his sport, Deceitfull Loue had vndermin'd the Fort, And by a breach (in spight of all deniance) Entred the Fort which lately made defiance; And with strong siedge had now begirt about The mayden Skonce, which held the souldier out. " Loue wants his eyes, yet shoots hee passing right, His shafts our thoughts, his bowe hee makes our sight : His deadly piles are tempred by such Art, As still directs the Arrowe to the hart. He cannot loue, and yet forsooth he will; He sees her not, and yet he sees her still ; He goes vnto the place shee stood vpon. And asks the poore soyle whether she was gon? Fayne would he follow her, yet makes delay ; Fayne would he goe, and yet fayne would he stay : Hee kist the flowers depressed with her feete, And swears fro her they borrow'd all their sweet. Faine would he cast aside this troublous thought, But still, like poyson, more and more it wrought; And to himselfe thus often would he say, Heere my Loue sat, in this place did shee play, Heere in this Fountaine hath my Goddesse been, And with her presence hath she grac'd this green. Now black-browd Night, plac'd in her chair of let. Sat wrapt in clouds within her Cabinet, And with her dusky mantle ouer-spred The path the Sunny Palfrayes vs'd to tred ; ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. 207 And Cynthia, sitting in her Christall chayre In all her pompe, now rid along her spheare ; The honnied dew descended in soft showres, Drizled in Pearle vpon the tender flowers, And Zephyre husht, and with a whispering gale, Seemed to harken to the Nightingale, Which in the thorny brakes with her sweet song Vnto the silent Night bewrayd her wrong. Now fast by Latmus, neere vnto a Groue, Which by the mount was shadowed from aboue, Vpon a banck Endimion sat by night, To whom fayre Phoece lent her frendly light ; And sith his flocks were layd them downe to rest. Thus giues his sorrowes passage from his brest. Sweet leaues (qd. he) which with the ayre do tremble, Oh , how your motions do my thoughts resemble ! With that milde breath by which [you] onely moue, Whisper my words in silence to my Loue : Conuay my sighes, sweet Ciuet-breathing ayre. In dolefall accents to my heauenly fayre. You murmuring Springs, like dolefull Instruments, Vpon your grauell sound my sad laments. And in your silent bubling, as you goe. Consort your selues like Musick to my woe. And lifting now his sad and heauy eyes Vp towards the beauty of the burnisht skies. Bright Lamps (qd. he) the glorious Welkin bears, Which clip about the Plannets wandring Sphears, And in your circled Maze doe euer role, Dauncing about the neuer-moouing Pole : Sweet Nymph, which in fayre Elice doost shine. Whom thy surpassing beauty made diuine. Now in the Artick constellation, the Pole Artick. Smyle, sweet Calisto, on Endimion. The constellations neere 208 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. And thou, braue Perseus, in the Northern ayre Holding Medusa by the snaky hayre, loues showxe-begotten Son, whose valure tryed In seauenteene glorious lights art stellified. Which won'st thy loue, left as a Monsters pra,y : And thou, the louely fayre Andromida, Borne of the famous Etheopian lyne. Darting these rayes from thy transpiercing eyne ; To thee, the bright Cassiopey, with these, Whose beauty stroue with the jSTeriedes, With all the troupe of the celestiall band. Which on Olimpus in your glory stand. And you, great wandring lights, if fro your Sphears You haue regard vnto a Sheepeheards teares. Or, as men say, if ouer earthly things You onely rule as Potentates and Kings, Vnto my loues euent, sweet Stars, direct Your kindest reuolution and aspect, And bend your cleere eyes from your Thrones aboue Vpon Endimion pyning thus in loue. ' Now, ere the purple dauning yet did spring. The ioyfuU Lark began to stretch her wing. And now the Cock, the mornings Trumpeter, Playd hunts- vp for the day starre to appeare, Downe slydeth Phoebe from her Christall chayre, Sdayning to lend her light vnto the ayre, But vnto Latmus all in haste is gon, Longing to see her sweet Endimion : At whose departure all the Plannets gazed. As at some seld-seene accident amazed; Till, reasoning of the same, they fell at ods, So that a question grew amongst the Gods, Whether without a generall consent She might depart their sacred Parliament? ENDIMION AND PH(EBE. 209 But what they could doe was but all in vaine ; Of liberty they could her not restraine : For of the seauen sith she the lowest was, Vnto the earth she might the easiest passe; Sith onely by her moysty influence Of earthly things she hath preheminence, And vnder her mans mutable estate, As with her changes, doth participate; And from the working of her waning source, Th'vncertaine waters held a certaine course. Throughout her kingdoe she might walk at large, Wherof as Empresse she had care and charge; And as the Sunne vnto the Day giues light. So is she onely mistris of the Night: Which whilst shee in her oblique course dooth guide The glittering stars apeare in all their pride, Which to her light their frendly Lamps do lend, And on her trayne as Hand-maydes doe attend ; And thirteene times she through her Sphere doth run, Ere Phoebus full his yearly course have don. And vnto her of women is assign'd Predominance of body and of mind, That as of Plannets shee most variable, So of all creatures they most mytable. But her sweet Latmus, which she lou'd so much, No sooner once her dainty foote doth touch. But that the Mountaine with her brightnes shone. And gaue a light to all the Horizon : Euen as the Sun, which darknes long did shroud, Breakes suddainly from vnderneath a clowd; So that the Nimphs which on her still attended, Knew certainly great Phcebe was discended. And all aproched to this sacred hill, There to awayt their soueraigne Goddesse will. 2d 210 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. And now the little Birds, whom Nature taught To honour great Diana as they ought, Because she is the Goddesse of the woods, And sole preseruer of their hallowed floods. Set to their consort in their lower springs. That with the Musicke all the mountaine rings; So that it seemd the Birds of euery Groue Which should excell and passe each other stroue, That in the higher woods and hollow grounds The murmuring Eccho euery where resounds. The trembling brooks their slyding courses stayd. The whilst the wanes one with another playd ; And all the flocks in this reioycing mood, , As though inchaunted, do forbeare their food : The heards of Deare downe from the mountains flew. As loth to come within Dianas view, Whose piercing arrowes from her loury bowe Had often taught her powerfull hand to knowe. And now from Latmus^ looking towards the plains, Casting her eyes vpon the Shepheards swaines, Perceiu'd her deare Endimions flock were stray'd, And he himselfe vpon the ground was layd ; Who, late recald from melancholy deepe. The chaunting Birds had lulled now asleepe. For why, the Musick in this humble kinde, As it first found, so doth it leaue the minde ; And melancholy, from the Spleene begun. By passion moou'd, into the veynes doth run : Which, when this humor, as a swelling Flood, By vigor is infused in the blood. The vitall spirits doth mightely apall, The effect of Meian- And weakeneth so the parts organicall. And when the senses are disturbd and tierd, With what the hart incessantly desierd, cholie. ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. 211 Like Trauellers with labor long opprest, Finding release, eft-soones they fall to rest. 'And comming now to her Endimion, Whom heauy sleepe had lately ceas'd vpon, Kneeling her downe him in her armes she clips, And with sweet kisses sealeth vp his lips. Whilst from her eyes teares, streaming downe in showrs, Fell on his cheekes, like dew vpon the flowrs, In globy circles, like pure drops of Milk Sprinckled on Eoses, or fine crimson silk. Touching his brow, this is the seate (quoth she) Wliere Beauty sits in all her Maiestie : She calls his eye-lids those pure Christall couers, Which do include the looking Glasse of Louers : She calls his lips the sweet delicious folds Which rare perfume. and precious incense holds: Shee calls his soft smooth Allablaster skin The Lawne^ which Angels are attyred in. Sweet face ! (qd. she) but wanting words I spare thee, Except to heauen alone I should compare thee. And whilst her words she wasteth thus in vayne, Sporting herselfe the tyme to entertayne. The frolick Nymphes, with Musicks sacred sound, Entred the Meddowes dauncing in a round; And vnto Phoebe straight their course direct, Which now their ioyfull comming did expect: Before whose feet their flowrie spoyles they lay. And with sweet Balme his body doe imbay. And on the Laurels, growing there along Their wreathed garlonds all about they hung. And all the ground within the compasse load With sweetest flowers, wheron they lightly troad. With Nectar then his temples they be dew, And kneeling softly kisse him all arew; 2d2 soule. 212 BNDIMION AND PHCEBE. Then, in braue galiards they themselues aduaunce, And in the Tryas, Bacchus stately daunce; Then, following on fayre Floras gilded trayne. Into the Groues they thus depart agayne. And now, to shew her powerfull deitie. Her sweet Endimion more to beautifie. Into his- soule the Goddesse doth infuse The fiery nature of a heauently Muse, Which in the spyrit, labouring by the mind , The exc^lency of the Pertaketh of celestiall things by kind : For why, the soule being diuine alone, Exempt from vile and grosse corruption, Of heauenly secrets comprehensible. Of which the dull flesh is not sensible, And by one onely powerfull faculty. Yet gouerneth a multiplicity. Being essentiall, uniforme in all, Not to be seuer'd, nor diuiduall, But in her function holdeth her estate. By powers diuine in her ingenerate : And so by inspiration conceaueth What heauen to her by diuination breatheth. But they no sooner to the shades were gone. Leaning their Goddesse by Endimion, But by the hand the louely boy shee takes, And from his sweet sleepe softly him awakes ; Who, being struck into a sodayne feare, Beholding thus his glorious Goddesse there, His hart, transpiersed with this sodayne glance, Became as one late cast into a trance. Wiping his eyes, not yet of perfect sight, Scarcely awak'd, amazed at the light, His cheeks now pale, then louely blushing red. Which oft increasd, and quickly vanished; ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. 213 And as on him her fixed eyes were bent, So to and fro his colour came and went: Like to a Christall neere the fire set, Against the brightnes rightly opposet, Now doth reteyne the colour of the flame. And lightly moued againe reflects the same. For our affection quickned by her heate, Alayd and strengthned by a strong conceit. The minde disturbed forth-with doth conuart To an internall passion of the hart By motion of that sodaine ioy or feare, Which we receive either by the eye or eare : For by retraction of the spirit and blood From those exterior parts where first they stood, Into the center of the body sent, Eeturnes againe more strong and vehement; And in the like extreamitie made cold About the same themselues doe closely hold, And though the cause be like in this respect. Works by this meanes a contrary effect. Thus, whilst this passion hotely held his course, Ebbing and flowing from his springing source, With the strong fit of this sweet Feuer moued At sight of her which he entirely loued, Not knowing yet great Phoebe this should be, His soueraigne Goddesse, Queene of Chastitie, Now, like a man whom Loue had learned Art, Eesolu'd at once his secrets to impart ; But first repeats the torments he had past, The woes indur'd since tyme he saw her last : Now he reports he noted whilst he spake The bustling windes their murmure often brake. And, being silent, seemd to pause and stay To listen to her what she ment to say. The causes of the ex- ternall sigiies of passion. 214 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. Be kind (quoth he) sweet Nymph, vnto thy louer, My soules sole essence, and my senses mouer, Life of my life, pure Image of my hart, Impressure of Conceit, Inuention, Art ! My vitall spirit receues his spirit from thee, Thou art that all which ruleth all in me : Thou art the sap and life whereby I Hue, Which powerfull vigor doost receiue and giue ; Thou nourishest the flame wherein I burne, The North whereto my harts true tuch doth turne. Pitty mypoore flock, see their wofuU plight; Theyr Maister perisht liuing from thy sight : Theyr fleeces rent, my tresses all forlorne, I pyne whilst they theyr pasture haue forborne . Behold (quoth he) this little flower belowe, Which heere within this Fountayne brim dooth grow. With that a solemne tale begins to tell Of this fayre flower, and of this holy Well, A goodly legend, many Winters old, Learn'd by the Sheepheards sitting by their folde ; How once this Fountayne was a youthfull swaine, A frolick boy, and kept vpon the playne. Vnfortunate it hapt to him (quoth he) To loue a fayre Nymph as I nowe loue thee : To her his loue and sorrow he imparts Which might dissolue a rock of flinty harts ; To her he sues, to her he makes his mone. But she more deafe and hard then Steele or stone. And thus, one day with grief of mind opprest, As in this place, he layd him downe to rest. The Gods at length vppon his sorrowes looke, Transforming him into this pirrling Brooke, Whose murmuring bubles, softly as they creepe. Falling in drops, the Channell seems to weepe. ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. 215 But shee, tlius careles of his misery, Still spends lier dayes in mirth and iollity ; And comming one day to the Eiver side, Laughing for icy when she the same espyde, This wanton Nymph, in that vnhappy hower, Was heere transformd into this purple flower. Which towards the water turnes it selfe agayne. To pitty him by her vnkindnes slayne. She, as it seemd, who all this time attended. Longing to heare that once his tale were ended. Now, like a iealous woman, she repeats Mens subtilties, and naturall deceyts; And by example striues to verifie Their ficklenes and vaine inconstancie,. Their hard obdurate harts, and wilfull blindnes. Telling a storie wholly of vnkindnes. But he, who well perceiued her intent. And to remoue her from this argument, Now by the sacred Fount he vowes and sweares. By Louers sighes, and by her hallowed teares ; By holy Latmus now he takes his oath , That all he spake was in good fayth and troth. And for no frayle vncertaine doubt should moue her, Vowes secrecie, the crown of a true Louer. She, hearing this, thought time that she reueald That kind affection which she long conceald ; Determineth to make her true Loue known. Which shee had borne vnto Endimion. I am no Huntresse, nor no Nymph (quoth she) As thou, perhaps, imagin'st me to be : I am great Phoebe, Latmus sacred Queene, Who from the skies haue hether past vnseene; And by thy chast loue hether was I led. Where full three years thy fayre flock haue I fed 216 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. Vpon these Mountaines and these fertile plaines, And crownd thee King of all the Sheepheards swaines. Nor wanton, nor laciuious is my loue, Nor neuer lust my chast thoughts once could moue : But sith thou thus hast offerd at my Shrine, And of the Gods hast held me most diuine, Mine altars thou with sacrifice hast stord, And in my Temples hast my name adord, And of all other most hast honor'd mee. Great Phcebes glory thou alone shalt see. Thys spake, she putteth on her braue attire, As being burnisht in her Brothers fire, Purer then that Celestiall shining flame Wherein great loue vnto his Lemmon came; Which quickly had his pale cheekes ouer-spred, And tincted with a lonely blushing red. Which , whilst her Brother Titan for a space Withdrew himselfe to giue his sister place, Shee now is darkned to all creatures eyes, Whilst in the shadow of the earth she lyes; For that the earth, of nature cold and dry, A very Chaos of obscurity, WTiose globe exceeds her compasse by degrees Fixed vpon her Superficies, When in his shadow she doth hap to fall Dooth cause her darknes to be generall. Thus whilst he layd his head vpon her lap, Shee in a fiery mantle doth him wrap. And carries him vp from this lumpish mould Into the skyes ; whereas he might behold The earth in perfect roundnes of a ball, Exceeding globes most artificiall : Which in a fixed poynt Nature disposed And with the sundry Elements inclosed, ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. 217 Which as the Center permanent dooth stay, When as the skies, in their diurnall sway, Strongly maintaine the euer-turning course, Forced alone by their strong mooner source : Where lie beholds the ayery Regions, Whereas the clouds, and strange impressions Maintaynd by coldnes often doe appeare, And by the highest Eegion of the ayre Vnto the cleerest Element of fire, Which to her siluer foot-stoole doth aspire. Then dooth she mount him vp into her Sphere, Imparting heauenly secrets to him there. Where, lightned by her shining beames, he sees The powerfuU Plannets all in their degrees, Their sundry reuolutions in the skies. And by their working how they sympathize ; All in their circles seuerally prefixt, And in due distance each with other mixt : The mantions which they hold in their estate. Of which by nature they participate ; And how those signes their seuerall places take Within the compasse of the Zodiacke ; Jucite plrticStV "" And in their seuerall triplicities consent with the Elements. Vnto the nature of an Element, To which the Plannets do themselues disperce, Hauing the guidance of this vniuers, And do from thence extend their seuerall powers Vnto this little fleshly world of ours ; Wherein her Makers workmanship is found, As in contriuing of this mighty round. In such strange maner and such fashion wrought, As doth exceed rdans dull and feeble thought. Guiding vs still by their directions; And that our fleshly frayle complections 2e 218 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. Of Elementall natures grounded bee, With which our dispositions most agree. Some of the fire and ayre participate, And some of watry and of earthy state, As hote and moyst, with chilly, cold and dry; And vnto these the other contrary. And by their influence, powerfull on the earth. Predominant in mans fraile mortall bearth ; And that our Hues ejBPects and fortunes are As in that happy or vnlucky Starre Which reigning in our frayle natiuitie Scales vp the secrets of our destinie, Withfrendly Plannets in coniunction set. Or els with other meerelyopposet. And now to him her greatest power she lent, To lift him to the starry Firmament, Where he beheld that milky stayned place By which the Twynns & heauenly Archers trace; The dogge which doth the furious Lyon beate. Whose flaming breath increaseth Titans heate ; The teare-distilling mournfull Pliades, Which on the earth the stormes & tempests raise, And all the course the constellations run, When in coniunction with the Moone or Sun : When towards the fixed Articke they arise. When towards the Antar[t]icke falling fro our eyes. And hauing impt the wings of his desire. And kindled him with this coelestiall fire, She sets him downe, and vanishing his sight, Leaues him inwrapped in this true delight. Now, wheresoever he his fayre flock fed. The Muses still Endimion followed : His sheepe as white as Swans, or driuen snow, Which beautified the soyle with such a show. ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. 219 As where he folded in the darkest night, There neuer needed any other light. If that he hungred and desired meate, The Bees would bring him honny for to eate, Yet from his lyps would not depart away, Tyll they were loden with Ambrosia ; And if he thirsted, often there was seene A bubling Fountaine spring out of the greene. With Christall liquor fild vnto the brim. Which did present her liquid store to him. If hee would hunt, the fayre Nymphs at his will. With bowes & Quiuers would attend him still ; And what-soeuer he desired to haue, That he obtain'd, if hee the same would craue. And now at length the ioyfull tyme drew on She meant to honor her Endimion, And glorifie him on that stately Mount, Whereof the Goddesse made so great account. Shee sends loues winged Herauld to the woods, The neighbour Fountains, & the bordring floods; Charging the Xymphes which did inhabit there, Vpon a day appoynted, to appeare. And to attend her sacred Maiestie In all theyr pompe and great solemnity, Hauing obtaynd great Phosbus free consent To further her diuine and chast intent: Which thus imposed, as a thing of weight. In stately troupes appeare before her straight The Faunes and Satyres from the tufted Brakes, Theyr bristly armes wreath'd al about with snakes ; Their sturdy loynes with ropes of luie bound. Their horned heads with Woodbine Chaplets crownd. With Cipresse lauelens, and about theyr thyes The flaggy hayre disorder'd looseley flyes. 2 e2 220 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. Th'Oriades, like to the Spartan Mayd, In Murrie-scyndall gorgiously arayd, With gallant greene Scarfs girded in the wast, Theyr flaxen hayre with silken fillets lac'd, Woue with flowers in sweet lasciuious wreathes, Moouing like feathers as the light ayre breathes; With crownes of Mirtle, glorious to behold, Whose leaues are painted with pure drops of gold ; With traines of fine Bisse, chequer'd al with frets Of dainty Pincks and precious Violets ; In branched Buskins of fine Cordiwin, With spangled garters downe vnto the shin, Fring'd with fine silke of many a sundry kind, Which lyke to pennons waued with the wind. The Hamadriads from their shady Bowers, Deckt vp in Garlonds of the rarest flowers, Vpon the backs of milke-white Bulls were set. With home and hoofe as black as any let, Whose collers were great massy golden rings, Led by their swaynes in twisted silken strings. Then did the louely Driades appeare On dappled Staggs, which brauely mounted were. Whose veluet palmes, with nosegaies rarely dight, To all the rest bred wonderfuU delight. And in this sort, accompaned with these, In tryumph rid the watry Niades Vpon Sea-horses, trapt with shining finns, Arm'd with their male, impenitrable skinns ; Whose scaly crests, like Raine-bowes bended hye, Seeme to controule proud Iris in the skye. Vpon a Charriot was Endimion layd, In snowy Tissue gorgiously arayd. Of precious luory couered or'e with Lawne, Which by foure stately Vnicornes Was drawne. ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. 221 Of ropes of Orient pearle their traces were, Pure as the path which dooth in heauen appeare ; With rarest flowers inchaste and ouer-spred, Which seru'd as Curtaynes to this glorious bed, Whose seate of Christall in the Sun-beames shone, Like thunder-breathing loues celestiall Throne. Vpon his head a Coronet instald Of one intire and mighty Emerald, With richest Bracelets on his lilly wrists Of Hellitropium, linckt with golden twists: A beuy of fayre Swans, which, flying ouer, With their large wings him fro the Sun do couer. And easily wafting, as he went along, Do lull him still with their inchaunting song, Whilst all the Nimphes on solemne Instruments Sound daintie Musick to their sweet laments. And now great Phoebe in her tryumph came. With all the tytles of her glorious name; Diana, Delia, Luna, Cynthia, Virago, Hecate, and Elythia, Prothiria, Dictinna, Proserpine, Latona and Lucina, most diuine; And in her pompe began now to approch, Mounted aloft vpon her Christall Coach, Drawn or'e the playnes by foure pure milk-white Hinds, Whose nimble- feet seem'd winged with the winds; Her rarest beauty being now begun. But newly borrowed from the golden Sun: Her lonely cressant, with a decent space, By due proportion beautifi'd her face. Till hauing fully fild her circled side, Her glorious fulnes now appeared in pride ; Which long her changing brow could not retaine, But, fully waxt, began again to wane. 222 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. Vpon her brow (like meteors in the ayre) Twenty & oyght great gorgious lamps shee bare ; Some, as the Welkin shining passing bright, Some not so sumptuous, others lesser light : Some burne, some other let theyr faire lights fall, Composd in order Geometricall ; And to adorne her with a greater grace, And ad more beauty to her louely face. Pier richest Globe shee gloriously displayes. Now that the Sun had hid his golden rayes. Least that his radiencie should her suppresse. And so might make her beauty seeme the lesse. Her stately trayne, layd out in azur'd bars, Poudred all thick with troopes of siluer stars. Her ayrie vesture; yet so rare and strange, As euery howre the colour seem'd to change. Yet still the former beauty doth retaine, And euer came vnto the same againe. Then fayre Astrea, of the Titans line, Whom equity and iustice made diuine. Was seated heer vpon the siluer beame. And with the raines guidfes on this goodly teame. To whom the Charites led on the way, Aglaia, Thalia, and Euphrozine: With princely crownes they in the triumph came, Imbellished with Phoebes glorious name. These forth before the mighty Goddesse went, As Princes Heraulds in a Parliament, And in their true consorted symphony Eecord sweet songs of Phoebes chastity. Then followed on the Muses, sacred nyne. With the first number equally diuine, In Virgins white, whose louely mayden browes Were crowned with tryumphant Lawrell bowes; ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. 223 And on their garments, paynted out in glory, Their offices and functions in a story, Imblazoning the furie and conceite Which on their sacred company awaite. For none but these were suiFered to aprocli. Or once come neere to this celestiall Coach, But these two, of the numbers nine and three, Wliich being od include an vnity, Into which number all things fitly fall. And therefore named Theologicall. And first composing of this number nine. Which of all numbers is the most diuine. From orders of the Angels dooth arise, Which be contayned in three Hirarchies; And each of these three Hirarchies in three. The perfect forme of true triplicity. And of the Hirarchies I spake of erst, The glorious Epiphania is the first, In which the hie celestiall orders been, Of thrones, Chirrup, and the Ciraphin: The second holds the mighty Principates, The Dominations and the Potestates: The Ephionia, the third Hirarchie, Which Vertues, Angels and Archangels be. And thus by threes we aptly do define. And do compose this sacred nuinber nyne : Yet each of these nyne orders grounded be Vpon some one particularity ; Then, as a Poet I might so infer Another order when I spake of her. From these the Muses onely are deriued, Which of the Angels were in nyne contriued : These heauen-inspired Babes of memorie. Which, by a like attracting Sympathy, 224 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. ApoUos Prophets in sheyr furies wrought, And in theyr spirit inchaunting numbers taught, To teach such as at Poesie repine. That it is onely heauenly and diuine, And manifest her intellectuall parts. Sucking the purest of the purest Arts. And vnto these, as by a sweet consent. The sphery circles are equlualent, From the first moouer, and the starry heauen, To glorious Phoebe, lowest of the seauen ; Which loue in tunefuU Diapazons fram'd, Of heauenly Musick of the Muses nam'd : To which the soule in her diuinitie, By her Creator made of harmony. Whilst she in frayle and mortall flesh dooth Hue, To her njme sundi'y offices doe giue : Which offices vnited are in three. Which like the orders of the Angels be, Prefiguring thus by the number nyne The soule, like to the Angels, is diuine. And fro these nines those Conquerers renowned. Which with the wreaths of triumph oft were crowned ; Which by their vertues gain'd the worthies name, First had this number added to their fame. Not that the worthiest men were onely nine. But that the number of itselfe diuine. And as a perfect patterne to the rest, Which by this holy number are exprest. Nor Chiualrie this title onely gaynd. But might as well by wisedome be obtaynd : Nor in this number men alone included. But vnto women well might be aluded. Could wit, could worlds, coulde times, could ages find This number of Elizas heauenly kind. ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. 225 And those rare men which learning highly prized, By whom the Constellations were deuised, And by their fauoiirs learning highly graced, For Orpheus harpe nine starres in heauen placed. This sacred number, to declare thereby Her sweet consent and solid harmony : And mans heroique voyce, which doth impart The thought conceaued in the inward hart. Her sweetnes on nine Instruments doth ground. Else doth she fayle in true and perfect sound. Now of this three in order to dispose. Whose trynarie doth iustly nyne compose. First, in the forme of this triplicitie Is shadowed that mighty Trinitie, Which still in stedfast vnity remayne, And yet of three one Godhead doe containe. From this eternall lining deitie, As by a heauen-inspired prophecy, Diuinest Poets first deriued these. The fayrest Graces, loue-borne Charites; And in this number Musicke first began, The Lydian, Dorian and the Phrigian, Which, rauishing in their soule-pleasing vaine. They made vp seauen in a higher strayne : And all those signes which Phoebus doth ascend. Before he bring his yearely course to end, Their seuerall natures mutually agree, And doe concurre in thys triplicitie : And those interior sences, with the rest. Which properly pertaine to man and Beast, Nature herselfe in working so deuised, That in this number they should be comprized. But to my tale I must returne againe. Phoebe to Latmus thus conuayde her swayne: 2 F 226 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. Vnder a bushie Lawrells pleasing shade, Amongst whose boughs the Birds sweet Musick made, "Whose fragrant branch-imbosted Cannapy Was neuer pierst with Pha3bus burning eye, Yet neuer could this Paradise want light, Elumin'd still with Phoebes glorious sight, She layd Endimion on a grassy bed, With sommers Arras richly ouer-spred. Where, from her sacred Mantion next aboue. She might descend and sport her with her loue; Which thirty yeeres the Sheepheard safely kept, Who in her bosom soft and soundly slept. Yet as a dreame he thought the tyme not long, Remayning euer beautifull and yong. And what in vision there to him befell My weary Muse some other time shall tell. Deare Collin, let my Muse excused be, ' Which rudely thus presumes to sing by thee ; Although her straines be harsh vntun'd & ill, Nor can attayne to thy diuinest skill. And thou, the sweet Museus of these times, Pardon my rugged and vnfiled rymes. Whose scarce inuention is too meane and base. When Delias glorious Muse dooth come in place. And thou, my Goldey, which in Sommer dayes Hast feasted vs with merry roundelayes. And, when my Muse scarce able was to flye, Didst imp her wings with thy sweete Poesie. And you, the heyres of euer-liuing fame, The worthy titles of a Poets name. Whose skiU and rarest excellence is such, As spitefull Enuy neuer yet durst tuch. ENDIMION AND PH(EBB. 227 To your protection I this Poem send, Which from proud Momus may my lines defend. And if, sweet mayd, thou deign'st to read this story. Wherein thine eyes may view thy vertues glory. Thou purest spark of Vesta's kindled fire. Sweet Nymph of Ankor, crowne of my desire, The plot which for their pleasure heauen deuis'd Where all the Muses be imparadis'd. Where thou doost Hue, there let the graces be. Which want theyr grace, if onely wanting thee. Let stormy winter neuer touch the Clyme, But let it florish as in Aprils prime : Let sullen night that soyle nere ouer-cloud, But in thy presence let the earth be proud. If euer Nature of her worke might boast, Of thy perfection she may glory most; To whom fayre Phoebe hath her bow resign'd. Whose excellence doth lyue in thee refind; And that thy praise Time neuer should impayre, Hath made my hart thy neuer mouing Spheare. Then, if my Muse giue life vnto thy fame, Thy vertues be the causers of the same ; And from thy Tombe some Oracle shall rise. To whom all pens shall yearely sacrifice. FINIS. 2 f2 NOTES TO ENDIMION AND PH(EBE. p., 193, 1. 3. Lucie Countesse of Bedford.] This accomplished and liberal lady was the favourer and patroness of many of the poets of her time — among them, Jonson, Daniel, Donne, and Drayton, who aU have addresses to her of various degrees of merit, but Jonson's unquestionably the best: we know not which to admire in it most, grace of sentiment, beauty of diction, or originality of thought. (See GifFord's Ben Jonson, 193.) It was to her that Jonson sent a copy of Donne's Satires, perhaps in manuscript; but his own verses, accompanying them, do not by any means equal the note he had first sounded. Although Drayton never re- printed " Endimion and Phoebe " (arid may, perhaps, be said to have suppressed and superseded it), he placed this excellent Sonnet to the Countess of Bedford in the volume of his "Poems " in 1599, 1603, and 1605, 8vo. making it follow that to King James : he only very slightly altered the penultimate line, " Sweet Lady, yet, grace this poore Muse of mine ;" Instead of, " Sweet Ladie, then, grace this poore Muse of mine : It comes second among the " Certaine other Sonnets to great and worthy Per- sonages.'' Lucy Countess of Bedford was the daughter of John Harington, who was created Baron Harington of Exton in 1603, and died in 1613. She married Edward third Earl of Bedford; and was resident at Twickenham when Donne addressed to her what is probably the earliest of his several pieces inscribed with her name. (See " Poems by J. D." 1633, 4to.) As far as we are at present informed, Donne's first printed work was " An Anatomy of the World," 1611, 8vo. : on the death of Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Eobert Drury : there is a copy of this rare impression in Lord Ellesmere's library, and the Editor of this work has a second ; but, although the edition of 1611 was probably only issued for presents, the poem became so popular, that it was reprinted in 1612, 1621, and 1625, before it was included in the volume of Donne's " Poems " in 1633. The copy of Donne's Satires which the Countess of Bedford received from Jonson may have been printed. NOTES. 229 because, from what the author says in his letters from Paris in 1614, we may suspect that his satires had already come from the press, but were reserved for private circulation. We know that they were in manuscript as early as 1593. P. 194, 1. 1. Eowland, when first I red thy stately rymes.] We have no means of assigning this tribute to any author: the initials E. P. belong to no known writer of verses of that day. The epithet " stately " do^s not seem very judiciously applied to Drayton's Eclogues " in shepherds weeds," some of which seem to have been written several years before they were published, and, as we may imagine, while the poet remained in Warwickshire, near the Ankor, which he celebrates, and where the lady of his " Idea'' resided. P. 195, 1. 2. Amidst the shades wherein the Muses sit.] This sonnet is more like a rival effusion in praise of " Idea," than a poem complimentary of her avowed admirer, Drayton. The initials might induce us to fancy that Stephen Gosson (who pub- lished his " Quips for upstart newfangled Gentlewomen " anonymously in 1594), was the writer of this effusion ; but it is hardly likely that he would, at this date, have been upon such terms with Drayton. Nevertheless, there is no sufficient reason for supposing that Drayton before 1594 had turned his attention to the stage as a means of support ; and it is well known that Stephen Gosson had published his attack upon theatres and plays, under the title of" The School of Abuse," as early as 1579. There is, we believe, no other author with whose name the initials S. G. would correspond. A graceful poem, subscribed S. G., is contained in " Eng- land's Parnassus," 1600, p. 417, which we may suspect to be by the same author as this sonnet prefixed to Drayton's " Endimion'and Phcebe;" but the ascriptions in " England's Parnassus " are often uncertain, and, supposing our conjecture to be correct, we are still no nearer the name of the real owner of the initials. Eitson's speculation, that S. G. in " England's Parnassus " indicated Gosson, is very despe- rate. (See Bibliogr. Poet. 214.) P. 197, 1. 16. At barly-breake to see the Satyres sport. J Barley-break was a rustic game oflen mentioned by old writers, and particularly described by Gifford in Massinger's Works, i. 104, edit. 1813. See also the Eev. A. Dyce's Beaumont and Fletcher iii. 112. P. 198, 1. 8. Mineruas Oliue and the weeping Myrhe.] Spenser (Faerie Queene, b. i. c. 1) applies the epithet " weeping " to the fir, which Drayton calls " war-like;" but of the myrrh Spenser says, with exquisite precision, " The Mirrhe aweete bleeding in the bitter wound." 230 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. It is the beech that Spenser terms " war-like " in the same stanza. We may be quite certain that Drayton had the whole passage (first printed in 1590) in his head, when he wrote this account of the trees on Latmus. So also Fairfax, in the enumeration of trees in his translation of " Godfrey of Bulloigne," 1600, where he is speaking of the wood cut down by the Christian assailants of Jerusalem : he, like Spenser, mentions '' the weeping Firre," and " The Myrrhe that her foule sinne doth still deplore." (Book iii. st. 75). This is one of the passages in which, for the sake of imitating or rivalling Spenser, Fairfax did not care about the abandonment of his original. P. 198, 1. 10. The Popler to Alcides consecrate.] So Mathew Eoydon in his " Elegy " on Sidney, printed in Spenser's Works, edit. fo. 1611 : — '* Alcidea speckled Poplar tree.'' The poem from which this line is taken was printed anonymously in 1593 in " The Phoenix Nest ;" but it is quoted as by " Math. Eoydon " in " England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 483, and there is no doubt about it. Eoydon is most kindly praised by Lodge in his " Fig for Momus," 1595; but late in life he seems to have fallen into great poverty, and in 1622 his necessities were relieved by Edward Alleyn, the founder of Dulwich College, who in his diary enters 8d. as " given to Mr. Eoydon," and on another occasion Qd. as " given to Matthew Eoydon." (See Collier's "Life of Alleyn,'' printed for the Shakespeare Society in 1841, p. 155.) Alleyn no doubt remembered Eoydon when his circumstances were such as to induce Chapman to dedicate to him his " llKiawKros, or Shadow of Night," in 1594, and his " Ovid's Banquet of Sense" in 1595. When and where he died is, we believe, not known. P. 198, 1. 14. To beautifie this stately Gallery.] This and the fifteen preceding lines are quoted as by M. Drayton in "England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 470, but, as usual in that work, with some gross errors, not corrected in the reprint of 1815. See Heliconia, iii. 506. P. 198, 1. 18. Kept by the Dragon in Hesperides.] i. e. the gardens under the care of the daughters of Hesperus. Nothing was more common in our old Poets than to confound the people with the place, and to speak of the gardens in Hesperides as if it were the name of the country in which they existed. Shakespeare, as is well known, did so in " Love's Labours Lost,'' a. iv. sc. 3, and nothing coidd be easier then to accumulate other instances. NOTES. 231 P. 198, 1. 30. And to theyr loues their small recorders tuned.] Here the singing-birds are said not only to " record " (the word, as we have seen in notes to p. 65, 1. 13, and p. 169, 1. 8, most frequently employed), but to play upon " recorders.'' P. 199, 1. 2. Kept tyme and bare the burthen to the song. J It is evident that Drayton had in his mind perhaps the most beautiful passage upon the combination of musical sounds that ever was written, viz. the two stanzas in Spenser's " Faerie Queene," beginning, " Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound," &c. (Book ii. u. 12.) It must be needless to continue the quotation. Drayton's inferiority was to be expected, and it was in fact inevitable. P. 199, 1. 8. Ideas Primrose, coronet of May.J " Idea" was, of course, the object of Dray- ton's real or poetical passion, with whom, we may presume, the primrose was a favourite: the couplet, " The Marigold, Phoebus beloued frend, The Moly, which from sorcery doth defend," is quoted as by M. Drayton in " England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 486. P. 199, 1. 17. For which fayre Phoebe sliding from her Sphere,] This line and the next Drayton transferred, with some variation, to the poem he called " The Man in the Moon,'' which was not printed until after James I. came to the throne, and which seems to have been meant as a sort of substitute for " Endimion and PhcEbe:" of the pubhcation in which it first appeared we have spoken in the Introduction. The changes made by Drayton were these : — " For whom bright Cynthia, gliding from her sp[h]eare, Used oft tymes to recreate her there." P. 200, 1. 13. Her Brothers beames now had shee layd aside.] So in " The Man in the Moon":— " Her brother's beames inforc'd to lay aside, Her self for his sake seming to divide." P. 200 1. 31. Through which thepurenes of the same did show.] This passage took the following form in " The Man in the Moon :" " Over the same she ware a vapour thin, Thorough the which her clear and dainty skin To the behoulder amiably did show. Like damask roses lightly clad in snow." 232 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. P. 201, 1. 6. "Simples fit beauty, fie on drugs and Art!] So printed in the old co.py, not to mark it as a quotatipn, but, apparently, as an axiom: the same course was pursued with the line just above " Great lights dim lesse, yet burn not one another. The first was transferred as Drayton's to " England's Parnassus,'' 1600, p. 19. P. 201, 1. 16. Pure as the drops of Aganippas Well.] So spelt in the old copy: the manner in which Drayton allowed his title to stand, " Endimion and Phoebe," proves that he did not pay much attention to the correct spelling of ancient proper names. In the instance of Aganippe, he possibly put the final a, in order to shew that it must be read, for the verse-sake, as a word of four syllables. P. 201, 1. 27. The stars on which her heauenly eyes were bent.J Referring to the eyes of Endymion. In the old copy this line commences a new paragraph, but it ought rather to have been continued, as indeed the sense continues. P. 201, 1. 34. About the woods she secures the long-liu'd Hart.] In the original it is ^'■loTxg-hu'd hart;" but so evidently a misprint, in reference to the length of life often attained by stags, that we have had no diflSculty in making the emendation. P. 203, 1. 4. And by the vertue cureth all diseased.] Drayton preserved these lines, or some like them, and inserted them thus in his " Man in the Moon ": — " When I was born, (as I have heard her say,) Nature alone did rest her on that day : In Jove's high house the gods assembled all. To whom he held a sumptuous festivall. The well wherein my mother bath 'd me first Hath that by virtue, that he shall not thirst Therof that drinks, and hath the payn appeased Of th' inward griev'd, and outwardly diseased." P. 203, 1. 10. Whose words inchant like Amphyons well-tun'd lyre.] Here we have another proof, among many, that old classical names in Drayton's time were most fre- quently pronounced, not according to ancient quantity, but rhythmical convenience. P. 203, 1. 24. And all the Winde shaU gently breath perfume.] Perhaps we ought to read windes, in the plural, but the change is by no means necessary. P. 205, 1. 10. With incky teares continually to mourne.J This and the three preceding lines are extracted in "England's Parnassus,'' 1600, p. 483, under the head of " Trees and Hearbes," among " proper Epithites and Adiuncts to diners things.'' P. 205, 1. 20. " But loue surpriz'd the hart, the tongue is dumbe.] Here again marks of quotation are placed at the beginning of the line ; but, as before, in all probability NOTES. 233 merely to note it as an axiom, that when love has surprised the heart the tongue is unable to speak. P. 205, 1. 31. Thus with a sigh her speeches of she broke.] i. e. off she broke: our old printers most frequently misprinted off " of." P. 206, 1. 16. As still directs the Arrowe to the hart.] The four last lines are quoted in "England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 179, but with a singular blunder (hardly singular in that work) of pilles for " piles." P. 206, 1. 31. Now black-browd Night, plac'd in her chair of let.J This and the eleven follomng lines are quoted in " England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 335, under the head of Noctis initium, but with two gross errors of the press — did for " now," and who for " and." P. 207, 1. 17. With that milde breath by which [you] onely moue.] " You" is wanting in the old copy, and the sense absolutely requires it : it is inserted in MS. in a hand-writing of the time. P. 207, 1. 31. Sweet Nymph, which in fayre Elice doost shine.] i. e. Helice : he addresses Calisto, whom he afterwards names. The marginal notes are added in the original for the information of the reader. , P. 208, 1. 9. To thee, the bright Cassiopy, with these.] This is probably the form in which Cassiopea appeared in Shakespeare's " Henry IV." pt. i. act i, sc. 1 : the line is left imperfect in the printed copies. " Than Julius Caesar or bright ," because, as Malone imagined, the old printer could not read the name. Drayton, like Shakespeare, accompanies it by the epithet " bright,'' which certainly belongs to the constellation. See " Notes and Emendations," 2nd edit. p. 267. P. 208, 1. 21. Now, ere the purple dauning yet did spring.] This description of day- break, down to the Hne, ' " Sdayning to lend her light vnto the ayre," is quoted correctly (for a wonder) in " England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 326, under the head of Gallicinium. In a passage immediately preceding, in the same work, Tho. Kyd is made to call the cock " The cheerefuU cocke, the sad nights trumpeter." Drayton, we see, terms him " the morning's trumpeter," who " Playd a hunts-vp for the day starre to appeare ;" a " hunt's-up" being a name for any piece of music to arouse from slumber. P. 208, 1. 32. So that a question grew amongst the Gods.] In Drayton's " Man in ihe 2 G 234 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. Moon," a passage of tte same import, and partly in the same words, occurs earlier : — " Downe unto Latmus, every month shee would ; So that in heaven about it there was ods, And as a question troubled all the gods, Whether without their generall consent She might depart." P. 209, 1. 3. For of the seauen sith she the lowest was.J So in " The Man in the Moon," with slight alteration : — " For of the seven, since she the lowest was, Unto the earth nought hindred her to pass." P. 209, 1. 9. And from the working of her waning source, j Ought we not here to read force for " source" ? The printer, perhaps, mistook the /for a long s. P. 210, 1. 27. And melancholy from the spleene begun.] This and the nine following lines are quoted in "England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 205, under the head " Melancholy." P. 211, 1. 2. Finding release, eft-soones they fall to rest.] Here again it seems doubt- ful whether " release " oxight not to be reliefe, but the alteration is not necessary : it however deserves notice, that the word is reliefe in " England's Parnassus." P. 211, 1. 34. And kneeling softly, kisse him all arew.] i. «., all in a row, one after the other. In the preceding line " be dew" should of course be bedew. P 212, 1. 22. "What heauen to her by diuination breatheth.] The eighteen lines ending with this are transferred, with various corruptions, to " England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 273, under the heading " Soule." P. 213, 1. 6. And lightly moued againe reflects the same.] This "crystal'' became a- mirror, when Drayton re-modelled the poem in his " Man in the Moon:" " Like as a mirror to the sun opposM, Within the margent equally inclos'd, That being moved as the hand directs, It, at one instant, taketh and reflects, &c." P. 113, 1, 34. To listen to her what she ment to say.J The four lines, of which this is the last, are found in another part of the " Man in the Moon" in this form : — '' Whereat she paws'd ; who all the while she spake, The bustling winds their murmurs often brake, And, being silent, seemed yet to stay, To listen if she had ought els to say." NOTES. 235 p. 215, 1. 24. Vows secrecie, the crown of a true louer.J Here we meet with that fragment of a line, before alluded to, which occurs on p. 259 of " England's Par- nassus," 1600. " Secrecie, the crowne of a true louer." Until a copy of " Endimion and Phoebe" was recently brought to light, it was im- possible to identify any of the quotations from it. The passage above cited is not met with in any other publication by our author. P. 216, 1. 19. Shee now is darkned to all creatures eyes.] From this line to the end of the paragraph is extracted and printed in " England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 69. The compiler of that work took the liberty, for greater intelligibility no doubt, to alter " Shee now" to The moone. P. 217, 1. 4. Forcedaloneby their strong moouer source.] This line seems not easy to be understood. The whole passage is cited in " England's Parnassus," p. 68, begin- ning at " Thus whilst he layd his head vpon her lap,^' and ending at "Which to her siluer foot-stoole doth aspire,''^ absurdly misprinting " aspire" appeere. There, however, the difficult line is thus given: — " Forced alone by their first mouers source." We strongly suspect that, here again, force has been misprinted " source," even supposing that " alone'' ought not to be along, " Forced along by their first movers force.^'' This would, at least, be intelligible ; but the whole passage is obscure, founded, as it is, upon the imperfect science of the time. P. 218, 1. 10. As in that happy or vnlucky starre.] So in our Poet's subsequent work " The Man in the Moon," " From which our bodyes the complexions take, Natures and number ; strongly and do make Our dispositions like them, and on earth The power the heavens have over mortall birth, That their effects, which men call fortune, are As in that good, or inauspicious star, &c. P. 219, 1. 34. The flaggy hayre disorder 'd loosely flyes.J The six lines which conclude 2 G 2 236 ENDIMION AND PHOEBE. this page (with the careless omission of the third line) are inserted in " England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 489, under the head of " Satires." P. 220, 1. 2. In Murrie-scyndall gorgiously arayd.j i. e. in murrey-coloured thin silk, or cypresse, according to Minsheu's Dictionary. P. 220, 1. 9. With traines of fine bisse, chequer'd al with frets.] Eoquefort in his " Glossaire " describes Bisse merely as une sorte d'etoffe de soie. It is not unfre- queatly mentioned in our older poets. P. 220, 1. 11. In branched Buskins of fine Cordewin.] The "buskins" of Hero were also branched, i. e. embroidered to imitate branches. " Buskins of shells, all silverM, usfed she. And branch'd with blushing Coral to the knee.*' Marlow's ** Hero and Leander," Sest. ]. Spenser in his Faerie Queene b. vi. c. iv. mentions " buskins of Cordewin." P. 221, 1. 22. Latona, and Lucina, most diuine.J This, not very poetical, enumeration of the titles of the Moon is copied into " England's Parnassus,'' 1600, p. 355. P. 222, 1. 34. Were crowned with tryumphant Lawrell bowes.J A quotation is seldom made in '' England's Parnassus,'' 1600, without some blunder (in our own copy we have corrected hundreds), which the editor of the reprint in Heliconia, vol. iii., did not profess to set right. In this description of the Muses (p. 212) " lovely'' is misprinted lively, and " crowned " covered. P. 223, 1. 28. Vpon some one particularity.] This and the seventeen preceding lines are found in "England's Parnassus,"' 1600, p. 2; but much disfigured, even to the omission of a line. P. 223, 1. 30. Another order when I spake of her.J It is not at all clear to whom "her" applies — scarcely to " particularity :'' if Drayton had alluded to "Idea" recently, we might have supposed that she was meant ; and that, as in his sonnet (p. 152) he represented her as a tenth Worthy, he here intended to raise her to the level of a Vertue, an Angel, or an Archangel, and thus convert her into a tenth in the heavenly Hierarchy. To this poetical dissertation on the number nine, Thomas Lodge refers in his " Fig for Momus," 1595, the fifth Epistle of which is addressed expressly " To Master Michael Drayton," and contains the following: — " I have perus'd thy learned nines and threes, And scan'd them in their natures and degrees. And to thy choice Apologie applie This sodaine tribute of my memorie." NOTES. 237 Hence he proceeds to add to what Drayton had advanced on the number nine in " Endimion andPheebe ;" but we have adverted to the point more particularly in the Introduction. This reference by Lodge to Drayton shews that " Endimion and Phoebe," which has no date on the title-page, was in print before Lodge published- his " Fig for Momus " in 1595. Until the discovery of " Endimion and Phojbe," it was impossible to conjecture to what Lodge alluded, excepting as the passage was quoted, and misquoted, in " England's Parnassus." Nobody hitherto has adverted to it, nor to the intimacy between Drayton and Lodge. Another long passage is quoted in " England's Parnassus " from this part of Drayton's poem, beginning " From these the Muses onely are deriued ;" and ending with the line " The soule, like to the Angels, is diuine." Only one important error is made in this quotation, viz. " These heauenly inspired babes of memoryj" instead of " These heauen-inspired Babes of memorie." P. 224, 1. 4. That it is onely heauenly and diuine.] Drayton refers to the Muses, calling them " Babes of Memory " in reference, of course, to their birth, as the daughters of Jupiter and Mnemosyne. Lodge had used the very same expression in his poem, " In commendation of a Solitarie Life," appended to his " Glaucus and Scilla," 1589 : the stanza where the phrase occiirs cannot easily be exceeded in beauty of versification : — " See where the babes of memorie are laid Vnder the shadow of Apollo's tree, That plelt their garlands fresh and well apaid. And breath foorth lines of daintie poeeie. Ah, world, farewell ! the sight hereof dooth tell, That true content dooth in the desert dwell." We are to bear in mind, that Drayton freely acknowledges his obligations to his friend Lodge, who, being older and more experienced, had assisted our poet in the commencement of his literary career. P. 224, 1. 34. This number of Elizas heauenly kind.] An extravagant compliment to the Queen. If she saw, heard, or read only half the poetical tributes to her beauty, 238 ENDIMION AND PHCEBE. learning, and accomplishments, voracious as was her appetite, and ridiculous as was her vanity, she must have had a surfeit of adulation. P. 226,1. 11. "Which thirty yeeres the Sheepheard safely kept.] In the original this line stands, *' Which thirty yeeres the Sheepheards safely kept ; " and whether we take " Sheepheards " as the plural, or as the Saxon genitive, it must be wrong: it certainly refers to the thirty years which Phoebe kept Endy- mion in safety. P. 226, 1. 16. My weary Muse some other time shall tell.] It seems likely that the public reception of " Endimion and Phoebe " did not encourage Drayton to con- tinue the subject by relating the " vision " of his hero. P. 226, 1. 17. Deare Collin, let my Muse excused be.] Colin Clout was Spenser's poetical name, acknowledged by himself and nearly all his contemporaries. He had printed his Pastorals as early as 1579, three books of his Eaerie Queene in 1590, his " Complaints " in 1591, &c. P. 226, 1. 21. And thou, the sweet Museus of these times.] Meaning, as the three lines following establish, Samuel Daniel, who had twice printed his " Delia," as already mentioned, in 1592. It is not very evident what Drayton means, in the next line but one, by his own "scarce invention:" as far as regards frequency of pub- lication his "invention " was anything but " scarce," for " Endimion and Phoebe " was at least the fourth work he had issued since 1591. He must therefore intend to call his invention " scarce " in the sense of difficult and unfluent : his invention was not so ready and rapid as that of Daniel. P, 226,1. 25. And thou, my Goldey, which in Sommer dayes.J Goldey is Lodge, the letters inverted and y added: sometimes he was known among his friends as Golde. He acknowledges this last appellation in the third Eclogue of his " Fig for Momus," 1595, which is expressly addressed "To Eowland," i. e. Drayton. Pos- sibly Wagrin, the other party to the rustic dialogue, was William Warner ; but, al- though persons and poets were certainly intended, it is not always so easy to assign the characters, as in the case of Lodge. We cannot tell the extent of Lodge's assistance to Drayton, when the Muse of the latter " scarce able was to flye," and when the older poet " imped her wings ;" but it is agreeable to meet with these trgjces of cordiality and kindness among early literary rivals. Our successors are not likely to enjoy the same subject of congratulation. P. 226, 1. 30. The worthy titles of a Poet's name.] This is not so obscure, as obscurely NOTES. 239 •worded : the meaning is, that the persons whom Drayton addresses are worthy tJie titles of poets. They are to defend his lines from the attacks of '' proud Momus," but we have no evidence that Drayton had been assailed, beyond the epigram upon the sonnet in which he styled his mistress the tenth worthy. It is possible that Lodge's " Fig for Momus," published just after " Endimion and Phoebe," had some particular reference to the way in which Drayton had been assailed for his earliei" productions. P. 227, 1. 3. And if, sweet mayd, thou deign'st to read this story.] Here our poet apostrophises the " sweet Nymph of Ankor," for whose sake he had called " Endi- mion and Phoebe," in its secondary title, " Idea's Latmus:" in her even the excel- lence of Phoebe " lived refined." Mortimeriados. THE LAMEN- table ciuell warres of Edward the fecond and the Barrons. AT LONDON, Printed by I.R. for Mathew Lownes, and are to bee folde at his fhop in S. Dunftons Churchyard. 1596. 2 H TO THE EXCELLENT and most accomplish' d Ladie, Lucie Countesse of Bedford. Rarest of Ladies, all, of all I haue. Anchor of my poore Tempest-beaten state, Which giuest life to that life Nature gaue, And to thy selfe doest onely consecrate ; My hopes true' Goddesse, guider of my fate ! Vouchsafe to grace what here to light is brought. Begot by thy sweet hand, borne of my thought. And though I sing of this tumultuous rage. Still paynting passions in these Tragedies, Thy milder lookes this furie can aswage. Such is the vertue of thy sacred eyes, Which doe contayne a thousand purities ; And, lyke them selues, can make their obiect such As doth Th'elixar all things it doth tuch. Sweet fruite, sprong from that euer sacred tree, That happie wombe from whom thou lyfe do'st take, And with that lyfe giues vertue vnto thee. Thus made of her, her lyke of thee to make, Shee lou'd for thee, thou honour'd for her sake; And eithers good, from other so deriued. Yet shee, nor thou, of any due depriued. 2 h2 The Harringtons, whose house thy byrth hath blest, Adding such honour to theyr familie, And famous Bedfords greatnes still increast, Kaysing the height of theyr Nobilitie, That Earledomes tytle more to dignifie; That Yertue, lyuely pictur'd forth in thee, May truly be discernd what shee should be- And Laurell crowned Sidney, Natures pride, Whom heauen to earth but onely shew'd this good, Betwixt the world and thee did then deuide His fame and vertues, which both equall stood : The world his fame, to thee of her owne blood, Hee gaue his vertues, that in his owne kind His neuer-matched wbrth might be enshrin'd. That whilst they boast but of their sun-burnt brayns. Which Tramontani long have termd vs so. With all their Po's, their Tyburs, and their Eheyn's, Greening to see how tidefull Thames shall flowe, Our Groues which for the gracefull Muses growe. Thy name shall be the glorie of the North, The fayrest fruit that euer shee brought forth. And in despight of tyranizing times, This hope, great Lady, yet to thee is left, Thy name shall lyue in steele-out-during rimes. Still scorning ages sacraligious theft: What fame doth keepe can neuer be bereft; Nor can thy past-priz'd honour euer die. If lynes can gyue thee immortalitie. Leauing vnto succeeding times to see How much thy sacred gyfts I did adore, What power thy vertues euer had in mee, And what thou wert, compar'd with those before, Which shall in age thy youth againe restore ; And still shall ad more vigor to thy fame, Then earthly honors, or a Countesse name. Proclayming vnto ages yet to come, Whilst Bedford lyu'd, what lyuing Bedford was. Enclosing thee in this immortall toombe, More durable then letter-grauen brasse, To shewe what thy great power could bring to passe : And other hopes I vtterly refuse, And thou my hope, my Lady, and my Muse. Your Honors euer denoted seruaunt Michaell Drayton. To To the right Honorable Lady, Lucie Coun- tesse of Bedford. When God this wondrous Creature did create, This euer mouing body, this huge weight. Whose head, whose lofty head, high situate, Is crown'd with Starrs & constellations bright, Hee causd the same one certaine way to moue. Which moouing (some say) doth sweet tunes beget : Another way the Sunne and Planets proue, For they from thence moue where the sun doth set ; Yet he the Pole-star, Cynosura cleere, Causd steddily to stand, though heauen did gyre. For an example to mens actions heere. Madam, you are the starre of his desire; Whilst hee his thoughts heauen moues, 6 gracious bee. And wonders in your Creature you shall see. Your honors and eternities Humble, E. B. Mortimeriados. Tlie lo wring heauen had mask'd her in a clowde, Dropping sad teares vpon the sullen earth, Bemoning in her melancholly shrowde The angry starres which raign'd at Edwards birth, With whose beginning ended all our mirth; Edward the second, but the first of shame. Scourge of the crowne, eclipse of Englands fame. Whilst in our blood ambition hotely boyles, The Land bewailes her, like a wofuU Mother On euery side besieg'd with ciuill broyles, Her deerest chyldren murthering one another, Yet shee in silence forc'd her griefe to smother: Groning with paine, in trauaile with her woes. And in her torment none to helpe her throwes. What care would plot discention s,triues to crosse, Which like an earthquake rents the tottering state : Abroade in warres we suffer publique losse. At home betrayd with grudge and priuate hate. Faction attending blood-shed and debate. Confusion thus our Countries peace confounds; No helpe at hand, and mortall be her wounds. 248 MORTIMERIADOS. Thou Church, then swelling in thy mightines, Thou, which should'st be this poore sick bodyes soule, ! nurse not factions which should'st sinne suppresse, And with thy members should'st all griefe condole ; Perswade thy hart, and not thy head, controle: Humble thy selfe, dispence not with the word, Take Peters keyes, but cast aside his sword. The ragefull fire which burnt Carnaruans brest, Blowne with reuenge of Gauestons disgrace. Awakes the Barrens from their nightly rest, And maketh way to giue the Spensers place, Whose friendship Edward onely doth embrace ; By whose alurements he is fondly led, To leaue his Queene, and flie his lawful bed. This Planet stirr'd vp that tempestious blast. By which our fortunes Anchorage was torne ; The storme where- with our spring was first defac'd. Whereby all hope vnto the ground was borne : Hence came the griefe, the teares the cause to mourne ; This bred the blemish which her beauty staind. Whose vgly scarr's to after-times remaind. In all this heat his greatnes first began, The serious subiect of my sadder vaine, Great Mortimer, the wonder of a man, Wliose fortunes heere my Muse must entertaine; And from the graue his griefes must yet complaine. To shew our vice nor vertues neuer die. Though vnder ground a thousand yeeres we lie. MORTIMERIADOS. 249 Thys gust first threw him on that blessed Coast, Which neuer age discouered before; This luckie chaunce drew all King Edward lost, This shyp wrack cast the prize vpon his shore, And thys all-drowning Deluge gaue him more; From hence the sunne of his good fortune shone. The fatall step to Edwards fatall throne. That vnckle now, whose name this Nephew bare, ^"S"'' Mortimer the -^ vnckle, and Roger Mor- rhe onely comfort of the wofuU Queene, timer the nephew. And from his cradle held him as his care, And still the hope of all his house had beene, Whilst yet this deep hart-goring wound is greene, On this well-seene aduantage wisely wrought To place him highly in her princely thought. He saw his inclination from his birth, A mighty spirit, a minde which did aspire ; Not of the drossy substance of the earth. But of the purest element of fire. Which, sympathizing with his owne desire. Name, nature, feature, all did so agree. That still in him himselfe he still might see. The temper of his nobler moouing part Had that true tutch which purified his blood. Infusing thoughts of honor in his hart. Whose flaggie feathers were not soyld in mud; The edge he bare declar'd the mettall good: The touring pitch wherein he flew for fame, Declar'd the ayrie whence the Eagle came. 2 I Roger Mortimer his Grand-fatlier, who kept the roud table at Ke- nelworth. 250 MORTIMERIADOS. Worthy the Grand-chyld of so great a sier, Braue Mortimer, who liu'd whilst Long-shanks raign'd Our second Arthur, whom all times admire. At Kenel worth the Table round orda3Ti'd, And there in Armes, a hundreth Knights maintaind; A hundreth gallant Ladies in his Court, Whose stately presence royaliz'd this' sport. And whilst this poore wife-widdowed Queene alone Li thys dispayring passion pines away. Beyond 6,11 hope, to all but heauen vnknowne, A little sparke which yet in secrete lay. Breaks forth in flame, and turnes her night to day, The wofull winter of her sorrowes cheering,. Euen as the world at the faire Sunnes appearing. Yet still perplexed in these hard extreames, All meanes deprest which might her faith prefer, Blacke foggs oppos'd in those cleere -shining beames, Which else might lend their friendly light to her, This in her lookes direfull reuenge doth stir ; Which strange eclipse, plac'd in this irefuU signe. Our Countries plague and mine might diuine. Her snowy curled brow makes anger smile, Her laughing frowne giues beauty better grace; Blushing disdaine disdaine doth quite exile. Sweet loue and silence wrestling in her face : Two capering Cupids in her eyes do chase ; Her veynes like tydes oft swelling with delight, Making Vermillion faire, white more then white. MORTIMBRIABOS. 251 Her beauty ilorish'd whilst her fauours fade, Her hopes growne old, but her desires be yong ; Her power wants power her passion to perswade, Her sexe is weake, her will is ouer-strong, Patience pleades pitty, but reuenge her ypcong : What reason vrgeth rage doth still denie, With arguments of wrathfiill iealousie. Pale Iealousie, child of insatiate loue, Of hart-sick thoughts with melancholic bred, A hell tormenting feare no faith can moue, By discontent with deadly poyson fed, With heedlesse youth and error vainely led, A mortall plague, a vertue drowning flood, A hellish fire, not quenched but with blood. The hate-swolne Lords, with furie set on fire. Whom Edwards wrongs to vengeance doe prouoke, With Lancaster and Herford now conspire, No more to beare the Spensers seruile yoke : The bonds of theyr alegiance they haue broke, Resolu'd with blood theyr libertie to buy. To line with honor, or with fame to dye. Amid thys faction Mortimer doth enter. The gastly Prologue to thys tragick act; His youth and courage boldly bids him venter. And tells him still how strongly he was backt ; Synon perswades how Illion might be sackt : The people still applauding in his eares. The fame and credite of the Mortimers. 2 i2 252 MORTIMEBIADOS, Thys vapor-kindled Commet drew her eyes, Which now began his streamie flagge to reare : This beauty-blushing orient of his rise, Pier clowdy frownes doth with his brightnes cleare. The ioyfull'st sight that euer did appeare; The messenger of light, her happy starre, Which told her now the dawning was not farre. As after pale-fac'd Night the Morning fayre The burning Lampe of heauen doth once erect, With her sweet Crimson sanguining the ayre. On euery side with streakie dappels fleckt, The circled roofe in white and Azure deckt. Such colour to her cheekes these newes do bring, Which in her face doth make a second spring. Yet trembling at the Spensers lordly power, Their wrongs, oppression, and controling pride, Th' vnconstant Barrons wauering euery houre, The fierce encounter of this raging tyde, No stratagem yet strongly policied ; Shee from suspition seemingly retyers, Carelesse in shew of what she most desires. Grounded aduice in danger seldom trips. The deadliest poyson skill can safely drinke. Fore-sight stands fast where giddy rashnes slips, Wisdome seemes blinde when eyed as a Linxe, Preuention speaketh all but what he thinks ; The deadliest hate with smyles securely stands : Keuenge in teares doth euer wash his hands. MOBTIMERIADOS. 263 Loe ! for her safetie this shee must desemble, A benefits which women haue by kind, The neerest colour finely to resemble : Suppressing thus the greatnes of her mind, Now is shee shrowded closely vnder wind. And at her prayers; (poore soule) shee plainly ment, A silly Queene, a harmelesse innocent. The least suspition cunningly to heale Still in her lookes humilitie shee beares : With patience she with migh tines must deale. So policie religions habite weares ; He's mad which takes a Lyon by the eares. This knew the Queene, and this well know the wise ; This must they learne which toyle in Monarchies. Torlton, the learnedst Prelate in the Land Adam Torlton Bishop of Herford, a mighty Vpon a text of politicks to preach, polititian. Car'd not on Paules preciser poynts to stand, Poore Moralls to beleeuing men to teach, For he at Kingdomes had a further reach. This learned Tutor Isabell had taught, In nicer poynts then euer Edward sought. Now, in means time, the smothered flame brake forth, The Mortimers march from the westerns playns : Ths Lords in armss at Pomfrst, in ths North, Ths King from London comes with might and mayne. Their factious followers in the strsstss are slayne : No other thing is to bs hop'd vpon, But horrour, death and desolation. 254 MORTIMERIADOS. Like as Sabrina from the Ocean flancks Comes sweeping in along the tawny sands, And with her billowes tilting on the bancks Eowles in her flood vpon the westerns strands, Stretching her watrie armes along the lands. With such great furie doe these legions ryse Filling the shores with lamentable cryes. Thus of three hands they all set vp theyr rest, And at the stake their Hues they franckly lay : Hee's like to winne who cuts his dealing best, And for a Kingdome at the least they play. The fayr'st in show must carrie all away; And, though the King himselfe in sequence came, He sawe the Queene lay right to make his game. But Fortune, masking in this strange disguise. Whose prodigie, whose monster, he was borne. Now in his lyfe her power t'anotomize, ' Ordayning him her darling and her scorne. His Tragedie her triumph to adorne. Shoe straight begins to bandy him about. At thousand ods before the set goes out. As when we see the spring-begetting Sunne, In heauens black night-gowne couere'd from our sight, And when he yet but fewe degrees hath runne, Some fennie fogge damps vp his gladsome light. That at his noon-sted he may shine more bright His cheerefull morning Fortune cloudeth thus. To make his day more fayre, more glorious. MORTIMERIADOS. 255 Edward, whom daunger warnd to dread the worst, Vnto the hart with poysned ranckor stung, Now for his crowne must scuffle, if he durst, Or else his scepter in the dust were flung. To stop the head from which these mischiefes sprung. First with the Marchers thinks it fit to cope. On whom he knew lay all the Barrens hope. Like to a whirle-wind comes this irefull King, Whose presence soone the Welchmens power had staid: The Cornish yet theyr forces fay Id to bring. And Lancaster too slacke forflow'd theyr ayd. Faynt-harted friends, their succours long delayd; Depriu'd of means, forlorne of farther good. And wanting strength to stem so great a flood. They who perceiu'd their trust was thus betrayd, Their long expected purpose thus to quayle, How mischiefe still vpon their fortune playd, That they perforce their high-borne top must vayle, This storme still blew so stifly on their sayle, Of Edwards mercy now the depth must sound. Where yet their Ankor might take hold on ground. This tooke the King in presage of his good, Who this euent to his successe apply 'd, Which coold the furie of his boy ling blood. Before their force in armes he yet had try'd ; His Sterne approch this easely molified. That on submission he dismist theyr power, And sends them both as prisoners to the Tower. 256 MORTIMERIADOS. Not cowardize but wisedome warnes to yield, When Fortune aydes the proud insulting foe, Before dishonour euer blot the field : Where by aduantage hopes agayne may growe, When as too weake to beare so great a blowe; That whilst his pittie pardons them to Hue, To his owne wrongs he full reuenge might giue. LoE ! now my Muse must sing of dreadfull Armes, And take her selfe to tell of ciuill warres. Of Ambuscados, stratagems, alarmes. Of murther, slaughter, monstrous Massacarres ; Of blood, of wounds, of neuer-healed scarres. Of battailes fought by brother against brother, The Sonne and Father one against the other. thou great Lady, Mistris of my Muse, Renowned Lucie, vertues truest friend ! Which doest a spyrit into my spyrit infuse, And from thy beames the light I haue dost lend, Into my verse thy lyuing power extend ! 0, breathe new lyfe to write this Tragicke storie; Assist me now, braue Bedford, for thy glorie ! Whilst in the Tower the Mortimers are mew'd, The Barrens drew their forces to a head, Whom Edward (spurd with vengeance) still pursu'd, By Lancaster and famous Herford led : Towards cithers force forth- with both Armies sped. Burton upon Trent. At Burton both incamping for the day. Where they must trye who beares the spurres away. MORTIMERIADOS. 257 Vpon the East, from bushie Needwoods side iNeedwood. There riseth vp an easie clyming hill, At whose fayre foote the siluer Trent doth slide, And all the shores with ratling murmure fill. Whose tumbling waues the flowrie Meadowes swill; Vpon whose stream a Bridge of wondrous strength Doth stretch her selfe, neere fortie Arches length. Vpon this mount the King his Tents hath fixt. And in the towne the Barrens lye in sight. This famous Kiuer risen so betwixt. Whose furie yet prolong'd this deadly fight, The passage stopp'd, not to be wonne by might. Things which presage both good and ill there bee. Which heauen fore-shewes, yet will not let vs see. The raging flood hath drownd vp all her foards, Sok'd in excesse of cloud-congealed teares. And steepes the bancks within her watrie hoards, Supping the whir-pooles from the quaggie mears: Now doth shee washe her tressed rushie hayrs, Swolne with the dropsie in her grieued woombe, That this her channell must become a Toombe. warlike Nation ! hold thy conquering hand. Euen sencelesse things doe warne thee yet to pawse, Thy Mother soyle on whom thy feete doe stand: 0, then, infrindge not Natures sacred lawes ! Still runne not headlong into mischiefes iawes, Yet stay thy foote in murthers vgly gate : 111 comes too soone, repentance oft too late. 2 K 258 MORTIMERIADOS. And can the cloudes weep ouer thy decay, Yet not one drop fall from thy droughtie eyes ? Seest thou the snare, yet wilt not shunne the way, Nor yet be warn'd by passed miseries? Or ere too late, yet learne once to be wise : A mischiefe seene may easely be preuented. But being hap'd, not help'd, yet still lamented. Behold the Eagles, Lyons, Talbots, Bears, The Badges of your famous ancestries, And shall they now by their inglorious heyrs Be thus displayd against their families, Eeliques vnworthie of theyr progenies ? Those Beastes you beare doe in their kinds agree, And then those Beasts more sauage will you be ? Cannot the Scot of your late slaughter boast. And are you yet scarce healed of the sore ? Is't not inough you haue already lost. But your owne madnes now must make it more? Your Wiues and Children pittied you before, But when your own blood your own swords imbrue. Who pitties them which once haue pittied you? What ! shall the Sister weepe her Brothers death. Who sent her Husband to his timelesse graue ? The Nephewe moane his Vnckles losse of breath. Which did his Father of his lyfe depraue ? Who shall haue mind your memories to saue. Or shall he buriall to his friend afford, Who lately put his Sonne vnto the sword ? MORTIMERIADOS. 259 But whilst the King and Lords in counsell sit, Yet in conclusion variably doe houer, See how misfortune still her time can fit ! Such as were sent the Country to discouer, Haue found a way to land their forces ouer. Ill newes hath wings, and with the winde doth goe, Comfort's a cripple, and comes euer slow. And Edward, fearing Lancasters supplyes, Great Surry, Kichmond, and his Pembrooke sent, On whose successe his chiefest hope relyes, Vnder whose conduct halfe his Armie went; And he himselfe, and Edmond Earle of Kent, Vpon the hill in sight of Burton lay. Watching to take aduantage of the day. Stay, Surry, stay ! thou maist too soone begon ; Stay, till this rage be some-what ouer-past : Why runn'st thou thus to thy destruction ? Pembroke and Eichmond, whether doe you hast? Neuer seeke sorrow, for it comes too fast. Why striue you thus to passe this fatall flood, To fetch new wounds, and shed your neerest blood ? Great Lancaster, sheath vp thy conquering sword, On Edwards Armes whose edge thou should'st not whet. Thy naturall Nephew, and thy soueraigne Lord, Both one, one blood, and both Plantaginet. Canst thou thy oth to Longshanks thus forget ? Yet call to minde, before all other things. Our vowes must be perform'd to Gods and Kings. 2e2 260 MORTIMERIADOS. Knowe, noble Lord, it better is to end, Then to proceed in tilings raslily begun ; Which, oft ill counseld, worser doe offend: Speech hath obtaind, where weapons haue not won. By good perswasion what cannot be done ? And when all other hopes and helps be past, Then fall to Armes, but let that be the last. The winds are husht, no little breth doth blow, The calmed ayre as all amazed stood; The earth with roring trembleth below, The Sunne besmear'd his glorious face in blood, The fearfull Heards bellowing as they were wood : The Drums and Trumpets giue a signall sound. With such a noyse as they had torne the ground. The Earles now charging with three hundred horse. The King's vantgard assay the Bridge to win. Forcing the Barrens to deuide their force, T'auoyde the present danger they were in. Neuer till now the horror doth begin ; That if th' elements our succour had not sought. All had that day beene to confusion brought. Aquary, a notable soul- Now fro the hill the Kings maine power comes downe, Which had Aquarius to their valiant guide : . Braue Lancaster and Herford from the towne Doe issue forth vpon the other side ; The one assailes, the other munified : Englands Red crosse vpon both sides doth flye. Saint George ! the King, Saint George ! the Barrens cry. flier. MORTIMEKIADOS. 261 Euen a& a bustling tempests rouzing blasts Vpon a Forrest of old branched Oakes, Downe vpon heapes their climing bodies casts, And with his furie teyrs their mossy loaks, The neighbour groues resounding with the stroaks : With such a clamor and confused woe, To get the Bridge these desperate Armies goe. Now must our famous and victorious bowes, With which our Nation kingdoms did subdue. First send their darting arrowes against those Whose sinewed armes against their foes them drew. These winged weapons, mourning as they flew, Cleaue to the strings, with very terror slack, As to the Archers they would faine turne back. The battered Caskes, with Battel Axes strokes, Besnow the soyle with drifts of scattered plumes ; The trampling presse stirre vp such duskie smokes. Which choke the ayre with reekie smothering fumes, Which rising vp into a clowde consumes, As though the heauen had mufHed her in black, Lothing to see this lamentable sack. Behold the remnant of Troyes famous stocke, Laying on blowes as Smithes on Anuiles strike. Grappling together in this fearful shock : The like presse forth t'incounter with the like. And then reculing to the push of pyke. Yet not a foote doth eyther giue to eyther; Now one the ods, then both alike, then neither. 262 MORTIMEBIADOS. Euen as you see a field of standing Come, When in faire lune some easie gale doth blow, How vp and downe the spyring eares are borne. And with the blasts like Billowes come and goe, As golden streamers waning to and fro. Thus on the suddaine runne they on amaine, Then straight by force are driuen backe againe. Heer lyes a heap, halfe slaine, halfe chok'd, halfe drown'd, Gasping for breth amongst the slymie seggs, And there a sort falne in a deadly swound, Scrawling in blood vpon the muddy dreggs; Heere in the streame swim bowels, armes, and leggs : One kills his foe, his braine another cuts, Ones feet intangled in anothers guts. One his owne hands in his owne blood defiles, Another from the Bridges height doth fall; Some dash'd to death vpon the stony pyles. Some in theyr gore vpon the pauement sprall; The carkasses lye heaped like a wall : Such hideous shreeks the bedlam Souldiers breath. As though the Spirits had howled from beneath. The mangled bodies diuing in the streame. Now vp, now downe, like tumbling Porpose, swim. The water couer'd with a bloody creame, To the beholder horrible and grim : Heere lies a head, and there doth lye a lym, Which in the sands the swelling waters souse. That all the shores seeme like a slaughter-house MORTIMERIADOS. 263 It seem'd the very wounds for griefe did weepe To feele the temper of the slicing blade : The sencelesse Steele in blood itselfe did steepe To see the wounds his sharpe-ground edge had made, Whilst kinsman kinsman, friend doth friend inuade. Such is the horror of these ciuill broyles. When with our blood we fat our native soyles. This faction still defying Edwards might, Edmond of Woodstock, famous Earle of Kent, Charging the foe againe, renewes the fight Vpon the Barrons forces almost spent. Who now againe suppljdng succours sent; And now a second conflict doth begin, The English Lords like Tygars flying in. Like as an exhalation hote and dry, Amongst the ayre-bred moystie vapors throwne, Spetteth his lightning forth outragiously, Renting the thick clowdes with a thunder-stone, As though the huge all-couering heauen did grone : Such is the garboyle of this conflict then, Braue Englishmen encountring Englishmen. Euen as proude Pyrrhus entring Illion, Couragious Talbot with his shield him bare, Clifford and Moubray seconding anon, Audley and Gifford thrunging for their share ; Elmbridge and Balsmer in the thickest are. Pell-mell together flyes this furious power, Like to the falling of some mighty Tower. 264 MORTIMERIADOS. Mountfort and Teis, your worths faine would I speake, But that your valure can but ill deserue ; Braue Denuile, heere I from thy prayse must breake, And from thy prayses Willington must swarue ; Great Damory, heere must thy glory starue, Concealing many most deseruing blame, Because their acts doe quench my sacred flame. 0, that those Armes in conquests had been borne, And that that battered fame-engrauen shield Should in those ciuill massacres be torne, Which bare the marks of many a bloody field ! 0, that our armes had power their Armes to weeld ! That since that time the stones, for very dreed, Against foule stormes could teary moisture sheed. ! had you shap'd your valures first by them Who summon'd Akon with an English drum, Or marched on to faire lerusalem, T'inlarge the bounds of famous Christendome, Or with Christs warriors slept about his toombe. Then ages had immortaliz'd your fame, Where now my song can be but of your shame. Death following on, feare euer in their eyes, Grieued with wounds, the conquered Barrens fled. And now the King, enrich'd with victories. Hath in the field his glorious Ensignes spred : This in his thoughts againe fi:esh courage bred, And somewhat drawes th'vnconstant peoples harts, Who, equall peyz'd, yet way'd to neither parts. MORTIMERIADOS. 265 And, wanting ground, they vriresolued are. King Edwards friends agaynst the rebels cry ; The Barrens plead their Countries onely care, Exclayming on the Princes Tyrannic: Hee vrg'd obedience, they their libertie. Both vnder colour carefuU of the state, Hee right, and they their wrongs expostulate. Some fewe them selues in Sanctuaries hide. In mercie of the priuiledged place ; Yet are their bodyes so vnsanctifide, As scarce their soules can euer hope for grace, A poore dead lyfe this draweth out a space : Hate stands without, and horror sits within. Prolonging shame, yet pard'ning not their sinne. At fa tall Pomfret gathering head at length. When they of all extreamities had tasted. Where yet, before they could recouer strength, King Edward foUoweth whilst his fortune lasted ; Vnto whose ayde the Earle of Carl ell hasted. With troupes of bow-men and ranck-riding bands, Of Westmer, Cumber, and Northumberlands. Mad and amaz'd, nor knowing what to doe, Surpriz'd by this late mischieuous euent. Seeing at hand their vtter ouerthrowe. And in despight how crossely all things went, Fortune her selfe to their destruction bent, In all disorder head-long on they junne. To end with blood what was with blood begunne. 2 L 266 MORTIMEBIADOS. Lyke as a heard of silly heartlesse Deare, Whom hote-spurd Huntsmen fiercely doe pursue, In brakes and bushes falling heere and there ; Yet, when no way the hounds they can eschew, Now flying back from whence of late they flew, Hem'd on each side, with homes rechating blast, Head-long them-selues into the toyles doe cast. To Borough bridge, by fate appoynted thus. Where, lyke false Eaynard, falser Herckley lay; Bridges to Barrons euer ominous. There to renewe this latest deadly fray. ! heere begins the blackest dismall day, The birth of horror, hower of wrath, that yet The very soyle seemes to remember it. Heere is not Death contented with the dead, Nor vengeance is with vengeance satisfied; Blood-shed by blood-shed still is nourished, And mischiefe meanes no more her store to hide. Strange sorts of torments heauen doth now prouide, That dead men should in miserie remayne. And in [the] lyuing death should dye with payne. Thus rules the world, a world, why say I so? Worst is the world, yet worser must T name it; Nights vgli'st night, hells bitter'st hell of woe. So ill, as slaunder neuer can defame it, That shame her selfe is sham'd, seeking to shame it: Could enuie speake what enuie can expresse, In saying most, that most should make it lesse. MORTIMEEIADOS. Heere noble Herford, Bohun, breathes his last, Crowne of true Knight-hood, flower of Chiualrie; But Lancaster their torment Hues to tast. Who perrish now with endlesse obloquie. 0, vanquisht conquest, loosing victorie ! That where the sword for pittie leaues to spill, There extreame iustice should begin to kill. 267 Boliun slaine at Borogh. 0, subiect for some tragick Muse to sing ! Of flue great Earledomes at one time possest, Sonne, Vncle, Brother, Grandchild to a King, With fauours, friends, and earthly honours blest ! But see, on earth heere is no place of rest ; These Fortunes gyfts, and she, to shew her power, Takes lyfe, and these, and all within an hower. Thomas, the great Earle of Lancaster. The wretched Mother, tearing of her hayre, Bewayles the time this fatall warre begunne, Lyke graue-borne gosts amaz'd and mad with fcare, To view the quartered carkasse of her Sonne, With hideous shreeks through streetes & wayes doth runne. And seeing nqne to help, none heare her crye, Some drownd, some stab'd, some starud, some strangled die. Lyke gastly death the aged Father stands, Weeping his Sonne, bemoning of his wife, Shee murthered by her owne blood-guiltie hands, Hee slaughtered by the executioners knife, Sadly sits downe to ende his hatefull life ; Banning the earth, and cursing at the ayre, Vpon his poyniard falleth in dispa3rre. 2l2 268 MORTIMBillADOS. The wofull widdowe, for her Lord distrest, Whose breathlesse body cold death doth benum ; H,er little Infant leaning on her breast, Eings in her eares, When will my Father come? Doth wish that she were deafe, or it were dombe, Clipping each other, weeping both togeather, Shee for her Lord, the poore babe for his Father. The ay re is poysned with the dampie stinck, Which most contagious pestilence doth breed; The glutted earth her fill of gore doth drinck, Which from vnburied bodies doth proceede; Rauens and dogs on dead men onely feede : In euery Coast thus doe our eyes behold Our sinnes by iudgement of the heauens controld. Lyke as a Wolfe returning from the foyle, Hauing full stuft his flesh-engorged panch, Tumbles him downe to wallowe in the soyle, With cooling breath his boyling mawe to stanch, Scarce able now to mooue his lustlesse hanch; Thus after slaughter Edward breathlesse stood, As though his sword had surfeted with blood. Heere endeth life, yet heere death cannot end. And heere begins what Edwards woes begun ; Nor his pretence falls as he doth pretend, Nor hath he wone what he by battell wone ; All is not done, though almost all vndone : Whilst power hath raign'd still policie did lurke. Seldome doth malice want a meane to worke. MORTIMERIADOS. 269 The King now by the conquering Lords consent, Who by this happie victoria grew strong, Summons at Yorke a present Parliament, To plant his right, and helpe the Spensers wrong ; From whence agayne his minions greatnes sprung. Whose counsell still, in all their actions, crost Th'inraged Queene, whom all misfortunes tost. But miseries, which seldome come alone, Thicke in the necks one of another fell : Meane while the Scots heere make inuasion. And Charles of France doth thence our powers expell. The grieued Commons more and more rebell ; Mischiefe on Mischiefe, curse doth followe curse, Plague after plague, and worse ensueth worse. For Mortimer this wind yet rightly blewe, Darckning their eyes which else perhaps might see, Whilst Isabell, who all aduantage knewe. Is closely plotting his deliuerie. Now fitly drawne by Torltons policie : Thus by a Queene, a Bishop, and a Knight, To check a King, in spight of all dispight. A drowsie potion shee by skill hath made, Whose secret working hath such wonderous power, As could the sence with heauie sleepe inuade. And mortifie the patient in one hower. As though pale death the body did deuower ; Nor for two dayes might opened be his eyes, By all meanes Arte or Phisicke could deuise. 270 MORTIMEEIADOS. Thus sits this great Enchauntresse in her Cell, Inuironed with spyrit-commaunding charmes, Her body censed with most sacred smell: With holy fiers her liquors now shee warmes ; Then, her with sorcerlng instruments she armes,- And from her hearbs the powerfull iuyce she wrong, To make the poyson forcible and strong. Reason might iudge, doubts better might aduise, And as a woman feare her hand haue stayd : Waying the strangenesse of the interprize, The daunger well might haue her sex dismayd, Fortune distrust, suspect to be betrayd ; But when they leaue of vertue to esteeme, They greatly erre which thinke them as they seerae. Their plighted fayth when as they list they leaue, , Their loue is cold, their lust bote, bote their hate ; With smiles and teares these Serpents doe deceaue, In their desires they be insatiate; Their will no bound, and their reuenge no date, All feare exempt where they at ruine ayme, Couering their sinne with their discouered shame. Medea, pittifull in tender yeares, Vntill with lason she would take her flight, Then mercilesse her Brothers lymmes she teares, Betrayes her Father, flyes away by night; Nor Nations, Seas, nor daungers could affright : Who dyed with heate, nor could abide the wind. Now like a Tigar falls vnto her kind. MORTIMERIADOS. 2?! Now waits the Queene fitt'st time, as might behoue. Their ghostly Father for their speed must pray, Their seruants seale these secrets vp with loue, Their friends must be the meane, the guide, the way, And he resolue on whom the burthen lay : This is the summe, the all ; if this neglected, Neuer againe were meane to be expected. Thus, while hee liu'd a prysoner in the Towre, The Keepers oft with feasts he entertain'd, Which, as a stale, serues fitly at this howre. The tempting bayte wher-with his hookes were traind : A stately banquet now he had ordain'd, And after cates, when they their thirst should quench, He sauc'd their wine with thys approoued drench. And thus become the Keeper of the Kayes, In steele-bound locks he safely lodg'd the Guard : Then, lurking forth by the most secret wayes. Not now to learne his compasse by the Card, With corded ladders, which hee had prepard, Now vp these proude aspyring walls doth goe, Wliich seeme to scorne they should be mastred so. They soundly sleepe, now must his wits awake, A second Theseus through a hells extreames. The Sonne of loue new toyles must vndertake, Of walls, of gates, of watches, woods, and streames, And let them tell King Edward of their dreames ; For ere they wak'd out of this brainsick traunce, He hopes to tell thys noble iest in Fraunce. 272 MORTIMERIADOS. The sullen night in mistic rugge is wrapt, Powting the day had tarried vp so long; The Euening in her darksome dungion clapp'd, And in that place the swarty clowdes were hong : Downe from the West the half-fac'd Cynthia flong, As shee had posted forth, to tell the Sonne What in his absence in her Court was done. The glymmering stars, like Sentinels in warre. Behind the Clowdes as thieues doe stand to pry, And through false loope-hooles looking out a farre. To see him skirmish with his destenie; As they had held a counsell in the Sky, And had before consulted with the night, Shee should be darke, and they would hide their light. In deadly silence all the shores are hush'd, Onely the Shreechowle sounds to the assault; And Isis with a troubled murmure rush'd, As shee had done her best to hide the fault : A little whispering moou'd within the vault, Made with his tuching softly as he went, Which seem'd to say it furthered his intent. This wondrous Queene, whom care from rest had kept. Now for his speed to heauen holds vp her hands. A thousand thoughts within herbosome heap'd; Now in her Closset listning still she stands. And though deuided, as in sundry strands. Yet absent, present in desires they bee; For minds discerne where eyes could neuer see. MORTIMERIADOS. 273 Loe ! now he thinks he vaulteth in her sight, Still taking courage, strengthned by her words, Imagining" shee sported with delight. To see his strong armes stretch the tackling coards, And oft a smile vnto his toyle affords ; And when shee doubted danger might her heare, Call him her soule, her life, her Mortimer. Now doth shee wooe the walls, intreat and kisse, And then protests to memorize the place, And to adorne it with a Piramis, Whose glory wrack of time should not deface : Then, to the cord shee turnes her selfe a space, And promiseth, if that shduld set him free, A sacred relique it should euer bee. Shee saith, the small clowds issuing from his breath. Seasoned with sweet from whence they lately came, Should cleere the ayre from pestilence and death. And, like Promethian life-begetting flame, Pure bodies in the element should frame ; And to what part of heauen they hapt to stray, There should they make another milkie way. Attaind the top, his tyred lymms to breath, Mounted in tryumph on his miseries, The gentle earth salutes him from beneath, And, couer'd with the comfortable skyes, Lightned with beames of Isabella's eyes, Downe from the Turret desperately doth slide. Xow for a Kingdome ! Fortune be his guide ! 2 M 274 MOETIMERIADOS. As hee descends, so doe her eyes ascend, As feare had fixt them to behold his fall; Then from the sight away her sight doth bend, When chilly coldnes doth her hart appall ; Then out for helpe she suddainly doth call : Silent againe, watching, if ought should hap, Her selfe might be the ground, his graue her lap. Now doth she court the gentle calmie ayre, And then againe shee doth coniure the winde ; Now doth she try to stop the night by prayer, And then with spells the heauy sence to binde ; Then by the burning tapers shee diuinde : Now shee intreats faire Thames that hee mighte passe The Hellespont, where her Leander was. The brushing murmure stills her like a song. Yet, fearing least the streame should fall in loue, Enuies the drops which on her tresses hong. Imagining the waues to stay him stroue; And when the billowes with his brest he droue, Grieued there-with, shee turnes away her face, lealous least hee the billows should embrace. Shee likneth him to the transformed Bull, Which curll'd the fayre flood with his luory flanck. When on his backe he bare the louely trull, Floting along vnto the Cretan banck, Comparing this to that lasciuious pranck ; And swears then hee no other loue there were, [f shee Europa had been present there. MORTIMERIADOS. 275 Thus seeks he life encourag'd by his loue, Yet for his loue his life he doth eschue : Danger in him a deadly feare doth moue, And feare enuits him danger to pursue. Eage stirr's reuenge, reuenge doth rage renue; Danger and feare, rage and reuenge at strife, Life warrs with loue, and loue contends with life. Thys angry Lyon hauing slypp'd his chayne, Now like a Quartain makes King Edward quake, Who knew too well, ere he was caught againe, Some of his flock his bloody thirst must slake ; And vnawares intangled in his brake, Sawe further vengeance hanging in the wind. Knowing too well the greatnes of his mind. Thys once againe the world begins to worke, Theyr hopes (at length) vnto thys issue brought. Whilst yet the Serpent in his Den doth lurke, Of whom, God knowes, the King full little thought. The instrument which these deuises wrought; For ther's no treason woundeth halfe so deepe, As that which doth in Princes bosoms sleepe. Now must the Cleargie serue them for a cloke ; The Queene her state vnto the time must fit. But tis the Church-man which must strike the stroke : Now must thys Prelate shew a statesmans wit. They cast the plot, and March must manage it : They both at home together lay on load, And he the Agent to eflect abroad. 2m2 276 MORTIMERIADOS. Who sweetly tunes his well-perswading tong In pleasing musick to the French- Kings ears, The sad discourse of Isabella's wrong, With tragick action forcing silent tears, Moouing to pitty euery one that hears; That by discouery of thys foule reproch, Old mischiefes so might new be set abroch. Whilst they are tempring, in these home-bred iarres, How for the Scot fit passage might be made, To lay the ground of these succesfuU warrs, That hope might giue him courage to inuade, And from the King the Commons to perswade ; That whilst at home his peace he would assure, His further plague in Fraunce he might procure. By these reports all circumstances knowne, Sounds Charles of Fraunce into the lists againe. To ceaze on Guyen, by Armes to clayme his owne, Which Edward doth vnlawfully detaine, Homage for Pontieu, and for Aquitaine; Reuoking this dishonorable truce, Vrg'd by his wrongs, and Isabels abuse. The spirits thus rayz'd which haunt him day and, night, And on his Fortune heauen doth euer lower ; Danger at hand, and mischiefe still in sight, Ciuin sedition weakning still his power, ' No ease of paine one minute in the hower : T'intreat of peace with Charles he now must send, Else all his hopes in Fraunce were at an end. MORTIMERIADOS. 277 Heere is the poynt wherein all poynts must end, Which must be handled with no meane regard, The prop whereon this building must depend, Which must by leuell curiouslie be squard ; The cunningst descant that had yet beene hard : Heere close conueyance must a means prouide, Else might the ambush easely be discride. Or this must helpe, or nothing serues the tui?ne; This way, or no way, all must come about, To bio we the fier which now began to burne, Or tind the strawe before the brand went out : This is the lot which must resolue the doubt, To walke the path where Edward bears, the light, And take their ayme by leuell of his sight. This must a counsell seriously debate, In grauest iudgements fit to be discust; Beeing a thing so much consernes the state, Edward in this must to their wisedomes trust, No whit suspecting but that all were iust, Especially the Church, whose moUth should be The Oracle of truth and equitie. Torlton, whose tongue mens eares in chains could tye. Whose words euen like a thunderbolt could pearce, And were allowd of more aucthoritie. Then was the Sibills olde diuining verse, Which were of force a iugement to reuerse. Now for the Queene with all his power doth stand, To lay this charge on her well-guiding hand. 278 MOBTIMEllIADOS. What helpes her presence to the cause might bring, First as a wife, a sister, and a mother, A Queene to deale betwixt a King and King, To right her sonne, her husband, and her brother, And each to her indifferent as the other : Which colour serues to worke in these extreames That which (God knowes) King Edward neuer dreames. Torhon, is this thy spirituall pretence? Would God, thy thoughts were more spirituall, Or lesse perswasiue were thy eloquence. But 6, thy actions are too temporally Thy reasons subtill and sophisticall ! Would all were true thy suposition sayth, Thy arguments lesse force, or thou more fayth. Thus is the matter managed with skill To his desires, their meanes thus to deuise. To thrust him on, to drawe them vp the hill, That by his strength they might get power to rise. This great Archmaster of all policies In the beginning wisely had forecast, How ere things went, which way they must at last. With sweetest hony thus he baytes the snare, And clawes the beast till he be in the yoke : In golden cups he poyson doth prepare, And tickles where he meanes to strike the stroke, Gluing the bone whereas he meant to choke ; And by all helpes of Arte doth smooth the way. To Send his foe downe head-long to decay. MOETIMBMADOS. 279 Shee which thus fitly had both wind and tide, And sawe her passage serue the hower so right, Whilst things thus fadge are quicke dispatch applide, To take her time whilst yet the day is light. Who hath beene tyerd in trauell feares the night ; And finding all too much to change incllnd, And euery toy soone altering Edwards mind. Her followers such as frendlesse else had stood, Supprest and troden with the Spensers pride, Whose howses Edward branded had with blood, And but with blood could not be satisfi'd. Who for reuenge did but the hower abide ; And knew all helpes that mischiefe could inuent To shake the state, and further her intent. Thus on the wronged she her wrongs doth rest, And vnto poyson poyson doth applie ; Her selfe oprest, to harden the oprest, And with a spye to intercept a spye, An Enemie against an Enemie. Hee that will gaine what policie doth heede. By Mercuric must deale, or neuer speede. Now Mortimer, whose mayne was fully set, Seeing by fortune all his hopes were crost. His strugling still how he againe might get That which before his disaduantage lost : Not once dismayd, though in these tempests tost ; Nor iu affliction is he ouerthrowne : To Mortimer all Countries are his owne. 280 MORTIMEBIADOS. Englands an He where all his youth be spent : Enuiron'd, valure in it selfe is drownd, But now he liues within the continent, Which being boundlesse, honour hath no bound : Here through the world doth endlesse glory sound; To fames rich treasure Time vnlocks the dore, Which angry Fortune had shut vp before. Wigmore the ancient What waves he of his wealth or Wigmore left? house of tlie Mortimers. _ •" " _ Let builded heapes, let Rocks and Mountaines stand: Goods oft be held by wrong, first got by theft; Birds haue the ayre, Fish water, Men the land : Alcides pitch'd his pillers in the sand. Men looke vp to the starres, thereby to knowe, As they doe progresse heauen, he earth should doe. And to this end did Nature part the ground ; Else had not man beene King vpon the Sea, Nor in depths her secrets had beene found, If to all parts on firme had layne his way ; But she to shewe him where her wonders lay, To passe the floods this meane for him inuents, To trample on these baser elements. Neuer sawe France, no, neuer till this day, A mind more great, more free, more resolute : Let all our Edwards say what Edwards may. Our Henries, Talbot, or our Mountacute, To whom our royall conquests we impute ; That Charles him selfe oft to the Peers had sworne, This man alone the Destinies did scorne. MORTIMERIADOS. 281 Vertue can beare what can on Vertue fall, Who cheapeneth honour must not stand on price ; Who beareth heauen (they say) can well beare all, A yeelding mind doth argue cowardize : Our haps doe turne as chaunces on the dice, Nor neuer let him from his hope remoue. That vnder him hath mould, the starres aboue. Let dull-braynd slaues contend for mud and earth. Let blocks and stones sweat but for blocks and stones ; Let peasants speake of plenty and of dearth, Fame neuer lookes so lowe as on these drones : Let courage manage Empiers, sit on thrones; And he that Fortune at commaund will keepe. He must be suer, he never let her sleepe. Who wins her grace must with atchiuements wooe her, As shee is blind, so neuer had shee eares ; Nor must with puling eloquence goe to her, Shee vnderstands not sighes, she heareg not prayers : Flatterd shee flyes, controld shee euer feares; And though a while shee nicely doe forsake it, Shee is a woman, and at length will take it. Nor neuer let him dreame once of a Crowne, For one bad cast that will giue vp his game. And though by ill hap he be ouerthrowne, Yet let him manage her till shee be tame ; The path is set with danger leads to fame. When Minos did the Grsecians flight denie. He made him wings, and mounted through the skie. 2 N 282 MORTIMERIADOS. The cheerefull morning cleeres her cloudie browes, The vaporle mists are all disperst and spred ; Now sleepie Time his lazie lims doth rouze, And once beginneth to hold vp his head : Hope bloometh faire whose roote was wel nere dead, The clue of sorrowe to the end is ronne ; The bowe appeares to tell the flood is donne. Nature lookes backe to see her owne decay, Commaunding age to slacke her speedy pace ; Occasion forth her golden loake doth lay. Whilst sorrowe paynts her wrinckle- withered face : Day lengthneth day, and ioyes doe ioyes imbrace ; Now is she comming, yet till she be heere, My penne runs slowe, each comma seems a yeere. She's now imbarck'd; slide, billowes, for her sake. Whose eyes can make your aged Neptune yong ; Sweet Syrens, from the chaulkie cleeus awake, Rauish her ears with some inchaunting song ; Daunce the Lauoltos all the sands along ; It is not Venus on your floods doth passe. But one more fayre than euer Venus was. You scalie Dolphins, gaze vpon her eyes, And neuer after with your kind make warre. ! steale the Musicke from her lips that flyes. Whose accents like the tunes of Angels are, Compard with whom Arions did but iarre : Hugge them, sweet ayre, and when the Seas doe rage, Vse them as charmes thy tempests to aswage. MOETIMEBIADOS. 283 Sweet Sea nymphs, flock in sholes vpon the shores ; Fraunce, kisse those feete whose steps thou first did guide ; Present thy Queene with all thy gorgious store ; Now mayst thou reuell in thy greatest pride: Shyp, mount to heauen and be thou stellified, And next that starr-fix'd Argosie alone There take thou vp thy constellation. Th' exceeding ioy conceued by the Queene, Or his content, to them I leaue to gesse Who but the subiect of their thoughts haue seene. Who, I am sure, if they the truth confesse. Will say that silence onely can expresse; And when with honor shee fit time could take, With sweet embraces thus shee him bespake. Mortimer, great Mortimer ! quoth shee, What angry power such mischiefe could deuise, To separate thy deerest Queene and thee, Whom loues etemall vnion strongly tyes? But seeing thee, vnto my longing eyes (Though guiltlesse they) this penance is assignd, To gaze vpon thee vntiU they be blind. Sweet face, quoth shee, how art thou changed thus. Since beauty on this louely front thou bor'st. Like the yong Hunter, fresh Hipolitus, When in these curies my fauors first thou wor'st? Now like great loue thy luno thou ador'st : The Muses leaue theyr double-topped throne, And on thy temples make theyr Helicon. 2 n2 284 MOBTIMEBIADOS. Come, tell mee, now, what griefe and danger is, Of paine and pleasure in imprisonment, At euery breath the poynt shal be a kisse, Which can restore consuming languishment, A cordiall to comfort banishment ; And thou shalt find that pleasures long restraind Be farre more pleasant, when they once be gaind. Now, sweeten all thy sorrowes with delight; Teach man-hood courtshyp, turne these broyles to loue: The day's nere ill that has a pleasing night, Ther's other warrs in hand, which thou must proue, Warrs which no blood shall shed, nor sorrow moue; And that sweet foe of whom thou winn'st the day Shall crowne thy tresses with tryumphant Bay. And sith that tyme our better ease assures, Let solace sit and rock thee on her brest. And let thy sences say, like Epicures, Lets eate and drinke, and lay vs downe to rest, Like belly- Gods to surfet at the feast, Our day is cleere, then, neuer doubt a shower: Prince Edward is my sonne, England my dower!. Possessing this inestimable lem, What is there wanting to maintaine thy port ? Thy royall Mistresse wears a Diadem ; Thy high-pitchd pyneons sore beyond report ; I am thy Wigmore, Fraunce shall be thy Court: How canst thou want millions of Pearle and sold. When thou the Indies in thyne armes dost hold? MORTIMEBIADOS. 285 Thou art King Edward, or opinion fayles; Longshanks begot thee when in youth he rang'd : Thou art Carnaruan, thou the Prince of Wales, And in thy Cradle falsely thou wert chang'd, Hee Mortimer, and thou hast beene estrang'd. Pardon me, deere : what, Mortimer sayd I ? Then should I loue him, but my tongue doth lie. As Fortune hath created him a Kine, Had Nature made him valiant as thou art, My soule had not been tuch'd with torments sting, Nor hadst thou now been plac'd so neere my hart ; But since by lot this falleth to thy part, If such haue wealth as lewdly will abuse it. Let those enioy it who can better vse it. Except to heauen, my hopes can clime no hier : Now, in mine armes had I my little boy. Then had I all on earth I could desier. The King's as he would be, God send him ioy ! Now with his mynions let him sport and toy ; His lemman Spenser, and himselfe, alone May sit and talke of Mistresse Gaueston. When first I of that wanton King was woo'd. Why camst thou not vnto the Court of Fraunce ? Thou then alone should'st in my grace haue stood, Mortimer, how good had been thy chaunce ! Then had I beene thine owne inheritance ; Now entrest thou by force, and holdst by might. And so intrud'st vpon anothers right. 286 MOBTIMERIADOS. Honor, that Idoll weomen so adore, How many plagues hast thou in store to grieue vs. When in our selues we finde there yet is more, Then that bare word of maiestie can giue vs : When of that comfort so thou canst depriue vs, Which with our selues oft sett'st vs at debate. And mak'st vs beggers in our greatest state. Euen as a Trumpets liuely-sounding voyce Tryps on the winds with many a dainty trick, When as the speaking Ecchoes doe reioyce, So much delighted with the rethorick, Seeming to make the heauie dull ayre quick; With such rare musick, in a thousand kayes, Vpon his hart strings shee in consort playes. On thys foundation whilst they firmely stand. And, as they wish, so fitly all things went. No worse their warrant then King Edwards hand, Who his owne Bow to his destruction bent. The course of things to fall in true consent, Giues full assurance of the happy end. On which their thoughts now carefully attend. And sith in payment all for currant passe. And theyr proceedings were allow'd for such. Although this peace against her stomack was, And yet imports the Princes strength so much To carry all things cleerly, without tuch, With seeming care doth seemingly effect What loue commaunds, and greatnes should respect. MORTIMERIADOS. 287 Charles, waying well his lawMl Nephews right. So mighty an Embassador as shee, This meane to winne her grace in Edwards sight, And so reclaime his vaine inconstancie. With kindnes thus to conquer all these three, What loue the subiects to his Sister bore, Heapes on desert, to make this much the more. Her expedition, and thys great successe. Of after-good still seeming to deuine, Carnaruan should by couenant release, And to the Prince the Prouiuces resigne. Who, dooing homage, should reenter Guyne, Safe-conduct sent the King, to come with speed To seale in person what the Queene decreed. But whilst he stood yet doubtfuU what to doe, The Spensers, who his counsels chiefely guide, Nor with theyr Soueraigne into Fraunce durst goe, Nor in his absence durst at home abide, His listning eares with such perswasions plyde, As hee by them to stay at home is wonne, And with Commission to dispatch his Sonne. Now, till thys howre all ioyes inwombed lay. And in this howre now came they first to light, Ad dayes to Months, and howres vnto the day, And as loue dyd, so make a treble night; And whilst delight is ravish'd with delight, Swound in these sweets, in pleasures pleasing paine. And as they die, so brought to life againe. 288 MOKTIMEBIADOS, Now, clowd-borne care, hence vanish for a time. The Sunne ascending hath the yeere renew'd, And as the Halkes, in hotest Sotherne clime, Their halfe-sick hopes, their crazed flags, haue mew'd, A world of ioyes their brests doe now include, The thoughts whereof thoughts quicknes doth benum, In whose expression pens and tongues be dumbe. In fayre Lauinum Troy is built againe, And on thys shore her ruins are repard. Nor lunos hate such vigor doth retaine. The Fates appeas'd, who with theyr fortune squard, The remnant of the shypwrackt nauie spard, Though torne with tempests, yet ariu'd at last. May sit and sing, and tell of sorrowes past. If shee doe sit, he leanes on Cynthias throne. If shee doe walke, he in the circle went; If shee doe sport, he must be grac'd alone, If shee discourse, he is the argument, If shee deuise, it is to his content : From her proceeds the light he beares about him. And yet she sets, if once shee be without him. Still with his eares his soueraigne Goddesse heares, And with his eyes shee graciously doth see ; Still in her breast his secret thoughts she bears. Nor can her tongue pronounce an I, but wee : Thus two in one, and one in two they be ; And as his soule possesseth head and hart, Shee's all in all, and all in euery part. MORTIMEBIADOS. 289 Like as a well-tund Lute, thats tucht with skill, In Musicks language sweetly speaking playne, When euery string it selfe with sound doth fill, Taking their tones, and giuing them againe, A diapazon heard in euery strayne; So their affections, set in Kayes so like. Still fall in consort as their humors strike. Shee must retume. King Edward's will is so ; But soft a while, shee meaneth no such thing: He's not so swift, but shee is twice as slowe ; No hast but good, this message backe to bring: Another tune he must be taught to sing. Which to his'hart more deadly is by far, Then cryes of ghosts, or Mandrakes shreekings are. 'Stapleton, who had beene of their counsell long. Or woonne with gifts, or else of childish feare, Or mou'd in conscience with King Edwards wrong. Or pittying him, or hate to them did beare. Or of th'euent that now he did dispaire. This Bishop backe from Fraimce to Edward flewe, And, knowing all, discouered all he knewe. The platforme of this enterprize disclosd. And Torltons drift by circumstances found. With what conueyance all things are disposd. The cunning vsd in laying of the ground. And with what Art this curious trayle is woond, Awakes the King to see his owne estate. When to preuent he comes a day too late. 2o 290 MORTIMEBIADOS. Isabell the time dotli still and still reiorne, Charles as a Brother with perswasions deales, Edward with threats doth hasten her retorne, Pope lohn with Bidls and curses hard assailes : Perswasions, curses, threats, no whit preuailes; Charles, Edward, lohn Pope, Princes, doe your worst, The Queene fares best, when she the most is curst. The Spensers, who the French-mens humors felt, And with their Soueraigne had deuisd the draught. With Prince and Peers now vnder hand had delt. In golden nets who were alreadie caught; And nowe King Charles they haue so thoroughlie wrought, That he with sums, too slightly ouerwaid. Poor Isabell's hopes now in the dust are layd. Thou base desier, thou graue of all good harts, Corsiue to kindness, bawd to beastly will, Monster of time, defrauder of desarts. Thou plague which doest both loue and vertue kill, Honours abuser, friendships greatest ill. If curse in hell there worse then other bee, I pray that curse may trebled light on thee ! Nor can all these amaze this mighty Queene, Who with affliction never was controld: Neuer such courage in her sex was scene, Nor was she cast in other womens mould. But can endure warres, trauell, want, and cold : Strugling with Fortune, nere with greefe opprest, Most cheerefull still when she was most distrest. MOaTIMERIADOS. 291 Thus she resolu'd to leaue vngratefuU France, And in the world her fortune yet to trye, Chaunging the ayre, hopes time will alter chance, As one whose thoughts with honors wings doe flye. Her mighty mind still scorning miserie; Yet ere she went, her greeued hart to heale, She rings King Charles this dolefull parting peale. Is this the trust I haue repos'd (quoth shee) And to this end to thee my griefes haue told? Is this the kindnes that thou offerest mee? And in thy Country am I bought and sold ? In all this heate art thou become so cold? Came I to Fraunce in hope to find a frend, And now in thee haue all my hopes their end? Phillip (quoth shee) thy Father neuer was. But some base peasant, or some slauish hind : Neuer did kingly Lyon get an Asse, Nor cam'st thou of that Princely Eagles kind ; But sith thy hatefull cowardise I find, Sinke thou, thy power, thy Country, ayde and all, Thou barbarous Mopre, thou most vnnaturall ! Thou wert not Sonne vnto the Queene, my mother, Nor wert conceiued in her sacred woombe ; Some misbegotten changeling, not my Brother. 0, that thy Nurses armes had beene thy Toombe, Or thy birth-day had beene the day of doombe ! Neuer was Fortune with such error led. As when shee plac'd a Crowne vpon thy head. 2 2 292 MORTIMERIADOS. And for my farewell this I prophecie : That from my loynes that glorious fruite shall spring, Which shall tread down that base posteritie, And lead in tryumph thy succeeding King. To fatall Fraunce I as Sibilla sing ; Her Citties sackd, the ruine of her men, When of the English one shall conquer ten. Beaumont, who had in Fraunce this shufling seene, Whose soule with kindnes Isabell had wonne, John of Henauit. Xo flye to Henault now perswades the Queene, Assuring her what good might there be done, Offering his Neece vnto the Prince her Sonne : The onely meane to bend her brothers might Against King Edward, and to back her right. This worthy Lord, experienc'd long in armes. Whom Isabell with many fauors grac'd, Whose Princely blood the brute of conquest warmes, In whose great thoughts the Queene was highly plac'd. Greening to see her succours thus defac'd, Hath cast this plot, which managed with heed, Sith all doe fayle, should onely helpe at need. Shee who but lately had her Ankors wayd, And sawe the clowdes on euery side to rise. Nor now can stay vntill the streame be stayd, Nor harbour till the cleering of the skies, Who though she rou'd the marke still in her eyes. Accepts his offer thankfully, as one Succouring the poore in such affliction. MORTIMEKIADOS. 293 This courteous Earle, mou'd with her sad report, Whose eares were drawne to her inchanting tong, Traind vp with her in Phillips royall Court, And fully now confirmed in her wrong, Her foes growe weake, her friends grow daily strong, The Barrens oath gag'd in her cause to stand, The Commons word, the Cleargies helping hand. All Couenants signd, with wedlocks sacred seale In friendships bonds eternally to bind. And all proceeding from so perfect zeale. And suting right with Henalts mighty mind, What ease hereby the Queene doth hope to find ! The sweet contentment of the louely bride, ' Young Edward pleasd, and ioy on euery side. Now full seauen times the Sunne his welked waine Had on the top of all the Tropick set. And seauen times, descending downe againe. His fiery wheeles had with the fishes wet. Since malice first this mischiefe did beget. In which so many courses hath beene runne, As he that time celestial signes hath done. From Henalt now this great Bellona comes, Glyding along fayre Belgias glassie maine. Mazing the shores with noyse of thundring drums ; With her young Edward, Duke of Aquitayne, The fatall scourges of King Edwards raigne. Her Souldiour Beaumont, and the Earle of Kent, /Vnd Mortimer, that raightie Malcontent. 294) MORTIMEBIADOS. Three thousand Souldiers, mustred men in pay, Of Almajmes, Swisers, trustie Henawers, Of natiue English fled beyond the Sea, Of fat-braind Fleamings, fishie Zelanders, Edwards decreasing power augmenting hers, Her friends at home expect her comming in, And new commotions euery day begin. The Coasts be daylie kept with watch and ward, The Beacons burning at thy foes discrie. ! had the loue of Subiects beene thy guard, T'ad beene t'effect what thou didst fortifie ; But t'is thy houshold home bred Enemie : Nor Fort, nor Castell, can thy Country keepe. When foes doe wake, and dreamed friends doe sleepe. In vaine he armes when heauen becomes a foe. Kneele, weepe, intreat, and speake thy Deaths-man fa3Te : The earth is armd vnto thy ouerthrowe; Goe pacific the angrie powers by prayer. Or if not pray, goe, Edward, and dispayre. Thy fatall end why doest thou this begin ? Locking Death out, thou keep'st destruction in. A Southwest gale for Harwich fitly blowes : Blow not so fast, to kindle such a fier. Whilst vnder saile shee yet securely rowes, Turne, gentle wind, and force her to retyer. But 6 the winds doe Edwards wrack conspyre ! For when the heauens are vnto iustice bent. All things be turnd to our iust pimishment. MOBTIMERIADOS. 295 Shee is arriu'd in Orwells pleasant Roade ; Orwell thy name, or ill, or neuer was: Why art thou not ore-burthend with thy loade? Why sinck'st thou not vnder thys monstrous masse ? But what heauen will, that needs must come to passe : That grieuous plague thou carriest on thy deepe, Shall giue iust cause for many streames to weepe. Englands Earle-marshall, Lord of all that Coast, With bells and bonfires welcoms her to shore : Great Leicester next ioyneth hoast to hoast. The Cleargies power, in readines before. Which euery day increaseth more and more; Vpon the Church a great taxation layd, For Armes, munition, mony, men, and ayd. Such as too long had looked for this hower. And in their brests imprisoned discontent, Their wills thus made too powerful by their power, Whose spirits were factious, great and turbulent, Their hopes succesfull by this ill euent. Like to a thiefe that for his purpose lyes. Take knowledge now of Edwards iniuries. Young Prince of Wales, loe ! heere thy vertue lyes. Soften thy Mothers flintie hart with teares. Then, wooe thy Father with those blessed eyes, Wherein the image of himselfe appeares, With thy soft hand softly vniting theirs; With thy sweet kisses so them both beguile, Vntill they smyling weepe, and weeping smile. 296 MORTIMERIADOS. Bid her behold that curled silken Downe, Thy fayre smooth brow in beauties fayrer pryme, Xot to be prest with a care-bringing Crowne, Nor that with sorrowes wrinckled ere the time, Thy feete too feeble to his seate to clime : Who gaue thee life a crowne for thee did make, Taking that Crowne, thou life from him doost take. Looke on these Babes,, the scales of plighted troth. Whose little armes about your bodies cling. These pretty imps, so deere vnto you both. Beg on their knees, their little hands do wring, Queenes to a Queene, Kings kneele vnto a King, To see theyr comfort and the crowne defac'd. You fall to armes which haue in armes embrac'd. Subiects, see these, and then looke back on these, Where hatefull rage with kindly nature striues. And iudge by Edward of your owne disease, Chyldren by Chyldren, by his wife your wiues, Your state by his, in his life youi; owne lines. And yeeld your swords, to take your deaths as due. Then draw your swords to spoyle both him and you. From Edmondsbury now comes thys Lyonesse Vnder the Banner of young Aquitaine, And downe towards Oxford doth herselfe adresse, A world of vengeance wayting on her traine. Heere is the period of Carnaruans raigne : Edward thou hast, but King thou canst not beare ; Ther's now no King but great King Mortimer. MORTIMERIADOS. 297 Now friendles Edward, followed by his foes, Needes must he runne the deuill hath in chase, Poore in his hopes, but wealthy in his woes, Plenty of plagues, but scarcitie of grace; Who wearied all now wearieth euery place : No home at home, no comfort seene abroad. His minde small rest, his body small aboad. One scarce to him his sad discourse hath done Of Henalts power, and what the Queene intends, But whilst he speakes another hath begun. Another straight beginning where he ends. Some of new foes, some of revolting frends; These ended, once againe new rumors spred Of many which rebell, of many fled. Thus of the remnant of his hopes bereft, Shee hath the sum and hee the silly rest. Towards Wales he flyes, of England being left ; To rayse an Armie there himselfe adrest, But of his power shee fully is possest : Shee hath the East, her rising there- withall. And he the West, I, there goes downe his fall. What plagues doth Edward for himselfe prepare ! Alas ! poore Edward, whither doost thou flie? Men change the ayre, but seldome change their care ; Men flie from foes, but not from miserle; Griefes be long liu'd, and sorrowes seldome die, And whe thou feel'st thy conscience tuch'd with griefe. Thy selfe pursues thy selfe, both rob'd and thiefe. 2p 298 MOETIMERIADOS. Towards Lundy, which in Sabryns mouth doth stand, Carried with hope, still hoping to finde ease, Imagining thys were his native Land, Thys England, and Seuerne the narrow seas; With this conceit (poore soule) himself doth please, And sith his rule is ouer-rul'd by men, On byrds and beasts he'll king it once agen. Tis treble death a freezing death to feele. For him on whom the sunne hath euer shone. Who hath been kneel'd vnto can hardly kneele, Nor hardly beg which once hath been his owne; A fearefuU thing to tumble from a throne: Fayne would he be King of a little He, All were his Empyre bounded in a myle. Aboarde a Barke now towards the He he sayles, Thinking to find some mercy in the flood; But see, the weather with such power preuailes. Not suffring him to rule thys peece of wood ; Who can attaine by heauen and earth with flood ? Edward, thy hopes but vainly doe delude. By Gods and men vncessantly pursu'd. At length to land his carefull Barke he hales. Beaten with storms, ballast with misery;- Thys home bred exile on the Coast of Wales, Vnlike hlmselfe, with such as like him bee : Spenser, Reding, Baldock, these haplesse three, They to him subiect, he subiect to care, And he and they to murther subiect are. MORTIMEUIADOS. 299 To ancient Nyetli, a Castell strongly built, Thether repayre thys forlorne banish'd crew, Which holdeth them, but not contayiies theyr guilt, There hid from eyes, but not from enuies view; Nor from theyr starrs themselues they yet with -drew. Walls may awhile keepe out an enemie. But neuer Castle kept out destenie. Heere Fortune hath immur'd them in this hold. Willing theyr poore imprisoned liberty. Lining a death, in hunger, want and cold, Whilst murtherous treason entreth secretly. All lay on hands to punish cruelty, And when euen might is vp vnto the chin, Weake frends become strong foes to thrust him in. Melpomine, thou dolefuU Muse, be gone, Thy sad complaints be matters farre too light: Heere (now) come plagues beyond comparison. You dreadfull Furies, visions of the night, With gastly howling all approch my sight. And let pale ghosts with sable tapers stand To lend sad light to my more sadder hand. Each line shall be a history of woe, And euery accent as a dead mans cry : Now must my teares in such aboundance flow. As doe the drops of fruitfull Castaly ; Each letter must containe a tragedy. Loe ! now I come to tell this wofull rest. The drerest tale that euer pen exprest. 2p2 300 MORTIMEEIADOS. You sencelesse stones, as all prodigious, Or things which of like solid substance be, Sith thus in nature all grow monsterous, And vnto kinde contrary disagree, Consume, or burne, or weepe, or sigh with mee ; Vnlesse the earth, hard-harted, nor can moane. Makes Steele and stones more hard then Steele and stone. All-guiding heauen, which so doost still maintaine What ere thou moou'st in perfect vnitie, And bynd'st all things in friendshyps sacred chayne In spotles and perpetuall amitie. Which is the bounds of thy great Emperie, Why sufferest thou the sacriligious rage Of thys rebellious, hatefull, yron age ? Now ruine raignes, God helpe the Land the while ; All prysons freed to make all mischiefes free : Tray tors and Rebels called from exile, All things be lawfull, but what lawfull bee; Nothing our owne, but our owne infamie : Death, which ends care, yet carelesse of our death. Who steales our ioyes, but stealeth not our breath. The Londeners aet all London, which didst thys mischiefe first begin, the prisoners at liberty. Loe ! now I come thy tragedy to tell : Thou art the first thats plagued for this sin. Which first didst make the entrance to this hell. Now death and horror in thy walls must dwell, Which should' St haue care thy selfe in health to keepe. Thus turn'st the wolues amongst the harmelesse sheepe. MORTIMEEIADOS. 301 0, had I eyes another Thames to weepe. Or words expressing more then words expresse ! O, could my teares thy great foundation steepe, To moane thy pride, thy wastfuU vaine excesse, Thy gluttonie, thy youthfull wontonnesse ! But t'is thy sinnes that to the heauens are fled, Dissoluing clowdes of vengeance on thy head. The place prophan'd where God should be adord, The stone remou'd whereon our faith is grounded, Aucthoritie is scornd, counsell abhord, Eeligion so by foolish sects confounded ; Weake consciences by vaine questions wounded: The honour due to Magistrates neglected, What else but vengeance can there be expected ? When fayth but faynd a faith doth onely fayne, And Church-mens lines giue Lay-men leaue to fall. The Ephod made a cloake to couer gayne. Cunning auoyding what's canonicall. Yet holines the Badge to beare out all ; When sacred things be made a merchandize None talke of texts, then ceaseth prophicies. When as the lawes doe once peruert the lawes. And weake opinion guides the common weale. Where doubts should' cease doubts rise in euery clawse. The sword which wounds should be a salue to heale; Oppression works oppression to .conceale, l^et beeing vs'd, when needfull is the vse. Right clokes all wrongs, and couers all abuse. 302 MORTIMEBIADOS. Tempestious thunders teare the fruitlesse earth. The roring Ocean past her bounds to rise, Death-telling apparisions, monstrous birth, Th' affrighted heauen with comet-glaring eyes, The ground, the ayre, all fild with prodigies, Fearefull eclipses, fierie vision, And angrie Planets in coniunction. Thy chanells serue for inke, for paper stones. And on the ground write murthers, incests, rapes, And for thy pens a heape of dead mens bones. Thy letters vgly formes and monstrous shapes ; And when the earths great hollow concaue gapes, Then sinke them downe, least shee we Hue vpon Doe leaue our vse, and flye subiection. Virgine, but Virgine onely in thy name; Now for thy sinne what murtherer shall be shent ? Blacke is my inke, but blacker is thy shame ; Who shall reuenge? my Muse can but lament. With hayre disheueld, words and tears halfe spent: Poore rauish'd Lucrece stands to end her lyfe. Whilst cruell Tarquin whets the angrie knyfe. Thou want'st redresse, and tyrannie remorce, And sad suspition dyes thy fault in graine, Compeld by force must be repeld by force. Complaints no pardon, penance helpes not payne. But blood must wash out a more bloody stayne; To winne thine honour with thy losse of breath. Thy guiltlesse lyfe with thy more guiltie death. MORTIMEBIADOS. 303 Thou art benumd, thou canst not feele at all; Plagues be thy pleasures, feare hath made past feare : The deadly sound of sinnes nile-thundering fall Hath tuned horror setledin thine eare: Shreeks be the sweetest Musicke thou canst heare ; Armes thy attyer, and weapons all thy good, And all the wealth thou hast consists in blood. See, wofull Cittie, on thy ruin'd wall, The verie Image of thy selfe heere see ; Read on thy gates in charrecters thy fall. In famish'd bodies thine Anatomie. How like to them thou art, they like to thee ! And if thy teares haue dim'd thy hatefull sight. Thy buildings are one fier to giue thee light. For world that was, a wofull is complayne. When men might haue been buried when they dyed. When Children might haue in their cradels layne, When as a man might haue enioy'd his bride, The Sonne kneeld by his Fathers death-bed side : The lyuing wrongd, the dead no right (now) haue. The Father sees his Sonne to want a graue. The poore Samarian, almost staru'd for food, Yet sawced her sweet Infants flesh with tears, But thou, in child with murther, long'st for blood. Which thy wombe wanting casts the fruite it bears. Thy viperous brood their lothsome prison teyrs ; Thou drinkst thy gore out of a dead-mans scull. Thy stomack hungry, though thy gorge be full. 304 MOETIMEMADOS. Is all the world in sencelesse slaughter dround? No pittying hart? no hand? no eye? no eare? Noiie holds his sword from ripping of the wound, No sparke of pittie, nature, loue, nor feare. Be all so mad that no man can forbeare ? Will you incur the cruell Neros blame. Thus to discouer your owne Mothers shame? The man who of the plague yet rauing lyes Heares yeelding gosts to giue their latest grone, And from his carefuU window nought espyes But dead-mens bodies, others making moane; No talke but Death, and execution : Poore silly women from their houses fled, Crying (6 helpe !) my husbands murthered. Thames, turne thee backe to Belgias frothie mayne, Fayre Tame and Isis, hold backe both your springs. Nor on thy London spread thy siluer trayne, ' Nor let thy ships lay forth their silken wings. Thy shores with Swans late dying Dirgies rings. Nor in thy armes let her imbraced bee. Nor smile on her which sadly weepes on thee. Time, end thy selfe heere: let it not be sayd, That euer Death did first begin in thee. Nor let this slaunder to thy fault be layd. That ages charge thee with impietie, Least feare what hath beene argue what may be; And fashioning so a habite of the mind, Make men no men, and alter humaine kind. MOETIMERIADOS. 305 But yet this outrage hath but taken breath ; For pittie past she meanes to make amends, And more enrag'd she doth returne to death, And next goes downe King Edward and his frends: What she hath hoarded now she franckly spends, In such strange action as was neuer seene, Clothing reuenge in habite of a Queene. Now Stapleton's thy turne, from France that fled : The next the lot vnto the Spensers fell, Reding, the Marshall, marshal'd with the dead ; Next is thy turne, great Earle of Arundell, Then Mochelden and wofull Daniell. Who followed him in his lasciuious wayes. Must goe before him to his blackest dayes. Caenaetjan by his Countrie-men betrayd, And sent a Prisoner from his natiue Land, To K[e]nel worth, poore King, he is conuayd, To th'Earle of Leister, with a mighty band ; And now a present Parliament in hand, Fully concluding what they had begunne, T'vncrowne King Edward, and inuest his Sonne. A Scepter's lyke a pillar of great height. Whereon a mighty building doth depend, Which when the same is ouer-prest with weight. And past his compasse, forc'd therby to bend. His massie roofe down to the ground doth send, Crushing the lesser props, and murthering all Which stand within the compasse of his fall. 2q 306 MOETIMERIADOS. Where vice is countenanc'd with nobilitie, Arte cleane excluded, ignorance held in, Blinding the world with mere hipocrisie, Yet must be sooth'd in all their slauish sinne, Great malcontents to growe they then begin ; Nursing vile wits, to make them factious tooles, Thus mighty men oft prooue the mightiest fooles. The Senate wronged by the Senator, And iustice made iniustice by delayes ; Next innouation playes the Orator, Counsels vncounseld. Death defers no dayes, And plagues but plagues alow no other playes ; And when one lyfe makes hatefull many Hues, Csesar, though Caesar, dyes with swords and kniues. Now for the Cleargie, Peers, and Laietie, Against the King must resignation make. Th' elected Senate of the Emperie To Kenelworth are come, the Crowne to take; Sorrowe hath yet but slept, and now awake : In solemne sort each one doth take his place, The partiall ludges of poore Edwards case. From his imprisoning chamber, cloth'd in black, Before the great assemblie he is brought, A dolefull hearse vpon a dead-man's back, Whose heauie lookes might tell his heauie thought : Greefe neede no fayned action to be taught; His Funerall solemniz'd in his cheere. His eyes the Mourners, and his legs the Beere. MOUTIMERIADOS. 307 His fayre red cheeks clad in pale sheets of shame, And for a dumbe shew in a swound began. Where passion doth strange sort of passion frame ; And euery sence a right Tragedian, Exceeding farre the compasse of a man, By vse of sorrow learning nature arte. Teaching Dispayre to act a lively part. Ah Pitty ! doost thou Hue, or art thou not ? Some say such sights men vnto flints haue turned : Or Nature, else thy selfe hast thou forgot? Or is it but a tale that men haue mourned? That water euer drown'd, or fire burned? Or haue teares left to dwell in humaine eyes, Or euer man to pitty miseries? Hee takes the Crowne, and closely hugs it to him. And smiling in his greefe he leanes vpon it; Then doth he frowne because it would forgoe him. Then softly stealing, layes his vesture on it; Then snatching at it, loth to haue forgone it : Hee put it from him, yet hee will not so. And yet retaines what fayne he would forgoe. Like as a mother over-charg'd with woe. Her onely chylde now laboring in death, Doing to helpe it, nothing yet can doe, Though \7ith her breath she fayne would give it breath ; Still saying, yet forgetting what she sayth. Euen so with poore King Edward doth it fare, Leaning his Crowne, the first-borne of his care. 2q2 308 MOBTIMEEIADOS. In thys confused conflict of the minde, Tears drowning siglies, and sighes confounding tears, Yet when as neyther any ease could finde, And extreame griefe dotli somwhat harden feares, Sorrow growes sencelesse when too much she beares: Whilst speech & silence striues which place should take, With words halfe spoke he silently bespake. I clayme no Crowne, quoth he, by vile oppression, Nor by the law of Nations haue you chose mee : My Fathers title groundeth my succession, Nor in your power is cuUor to depose mee. By heauens decree I stand, they must dispose me. A lawles act, in an vnlawfull thing, With-drawes allegiance, but vncrownes no King. What God hath sayd to one is onely due. Can I vsurpe by tyrannizing might, Or take what by your birth-right falls to you ? Eoote out your houses? blot your honors light? By publique rule to rob your publique right ? Then, can you take what he could not that gaue it. Because the heauens commaunded I should haue it? My Lords, quoth hee, commend me to'the King. Heere doth he pause, fearing his tongue offended, Euen as in child-birth forth the word doth bring, Sighing a full poynt as he there had ended. Yet striuing, as his speech he would haue mended. Things of small moment we can scarcely hold. But griefes that tuch the hart are hardly told. MORTIMEBIADOS. 309 Heere doth he weepe, as he had spoke in tears, Calming this tempest with a shower of raine, Whispering, as he would keepe it from his ears, Doe my allegiance to my soueraigne ; Yet at this word heere doth he pause againe.. Yes say euen so, quoth he, to him you beare it. If it be Edward that you meane shall weare it. Keepe hee the Crowne, with mee remaine the curse, A haplesse Father haue a happy Sonne : Take he the better, I endure the worse, The plague to end in mee, in mee begun, And better may he thriue then I haue done. Let him be second Edward, and poore I For euer blotted out of memorie. Let him account his bondage from the day That he is with the Diadem inuested. A glittering Crowne doth make the haire soone gray, Within whose circle he is but arested : In all his feasts hee's but with sorrowe feasted ; And when his feete disdaine to tuch the mold. His head a prysoner in a layle of gold. In numbring of his subiects numbring care ; And when the people doe with shouts begin. Then let him thinke theyr onely prayers are, That he may scape the danger he is in : The multitude be multitudes of sin; And hee which first doth say, God saue the King ! Hee is the first doth newes of sorrow bring. 310 MOETIMEEIADOS. His Commons ills shall be his priuate ill, His priuate good is onely publique care, His will must onely be as others will ; Himselfe not as he is, as others are, By Fortune dar'd to more then Fortune dare ; And he which may commaund an Empery, Yet can he not intreat his liberty. Appeasing tumults hate cannot appease: Sooth'd with deceits, and fed with flatteries, Displeasing to himselfe others to please, Obey'd asmuch as he shall tyrannize, Feare forcing friends, enforcing Enemies; And when hee sitteth vnder his estate, His foote-stoole danger, and his chayre is hate. He King alone ? no King that once was one ? A King that was vnto a King that is ? I am vnthron'd, and hee enioyes my throne. Nor should I suiFer that, nor he doe this. Hee takes from mee what yet Is none of his: Young Edward clymes, old Edward falleth downe ; King'd and vhking'd, he crown'd, farwell my crowne ! Princes be Fortunes chyldren, and with them Shee deales as Mothers vse theyr babes to still, Vnto her darling glues a Diadem, A pretty toy his humor to fulfill ; And when a little they haue had theyr will, Looke, what shee gaue shee taketh at her pleasure, Vslng the rod when they are out of measure. MORTIMERIADOS. 311 But policie, wlio still in hate did lurke, And yet suspecteth Edward is not sure, Waying what blood with Leicester might worke, Or else what friends his name might yet procure, A guilty conscience neuer is secure. From Leisters keeping cause him to he taken. Alas, poore Edward ! now all forsaken. To Gurney and Matrauers he is giuen. ! let theyr act be odious to all ears, And beeing gpoke, stirre clowdes to couer heauen, And be the badge the wretched murtherer bears, The wicked oth whereby the damned swears. But Edward, in thy hell thou must content thee; These be the deuils which must still torment thee. Hee on a leane ilfauored beast is set. Death vpon Famine moralizing right; His cheeks with tears, his head with raigne bewet. Nights very picture^ wandring still by night : When he would sleep, like dreams they him affright ; His foode torment, his drinke a poysoned bayne. No other comfort but in deadly paine. And yet because they feare to haue him knowne They shaue away his princely tressed hayre ; And now, become not worth a hayre ofs owne. Body and Fortune now be equall bare. Thus voyde of wealth, 6 were he voyde of care ! But 6 ! our ioyes are shadowes, and deceaue vs. But cares, euen to our deaths, doe neuer leaue vs. 312 MORTIMERIADOS. A silly Mole-hill is his kingly chayre ; With puddle water must he now be drest, And his perfume the lothsome fenny ayre; An yron skull a Bason fitting best, A bloody workman suting with the rest: His lothed eyes, within thys filthy glas, Truly behold how much deform'd hee was. The drops which from his eyes abundance fall, A poole of tears still rising by this rayne, Euen fighting with the water, and withall, A circled compasse makes it to retaine, Billow'd with sighes, like to a little maine ; Water with tears contending, whether should Make water warme, or make the warme tears cold. Vile Traytors ! hold of your vnhalowed hands. The cruelst beast the Lyons presence fears, And can you keepe your Soueraigne then in bands? How can your eyes behold th'anoynteds tears? Are not your harts euen pearced through your ears ; The minde is free, what ere afflict the man, A King's, a King, doe Fortune what shee can. Who's he can take what God himselfe hath giuen. Or spill that life his holy spirit infused ? All powers be subiect to the powers of heauen. Nor wrongs passe vnreueng'd, although excused. Weepe, Maiestie, to see thy selfe abused: ! whither shall authoritie be take, When shee herselfe herselfe doth so forsake? MORTIMEBIADOS 313 A wreath, of hay they on his temples bind, Which when he felt, (tears would not let him see) Nature, (quoth he) now art thou onely kind; Thou giu'st, but Fortune taketh all from mee : I now perceaue that, were it not for thee, I should want water, clothing for my brayne. But earth giues hay, and mine eyes giue me rayne. My selfe deform'd lyke my deformed state. My person made like to mine infamie : Altring my fauour, could you alter fate. And blotting beautie, blot my memorie, You might flye slaunder, I indignitie. My golden Crowne tooke golden rule away; A Crowne of hay well sutes a King of hay. Yet greeu'd agayne, on nature doth complayne. Nature, (sayth he) 6 ! thou art iust in all ; Why should'st ■fhou, then, thus strengthen me agayne To suffer things so much vnnaturall. Except thou be pertaker in my fall? And when at once so many mischiefes meete, Mak'st poyson nuterment, and bitter sweete. And now he thinks he wrongeth Fortune much. Who giueth him this great preheminence ; For since by fate his myseries be such, Her worser name hath taught him pacience. For no offence he taketh as offence ; Crest on his back, and crosses in the brest, Thus is he crost, who neuer yet was blest. 2 E 314 MORTIMERIADOS. To Berckley thus tliey lead this wretched King, The place of horror which they had fore-thought. heauens ! why suffer you so vile a thing, And can behold this murther to be wrought. But that your wayes are all with iudgcment frought ? Xow entrest thou, poore Edward, to thy hell: Take thy leaue, and bid the world farewell. Berckley ! thou which hast beene famous long, Still let thy walls shreeke out a deadly sound, And still coraplayne thee of thy greeuous wrong. Preserue the figure of King Edwards wound. And keepe their wretched footsteps on the ground; That yet some power againe may giue them breath. And thou againe mayst curse them both to death. The croking Eauens hideous voyce he hears, AVhich through the Castell sounds with deadly yells, Iinprinting strange imaginarie fears. The heauie Ecchoes lyke to passing bells, Chyming far off his dolefull burying knells : The iargging Casements, which the fierce wind dryues. Puts him in mind of fetters, chaynes, and gyues. By silent night the vgly shreeking Owles, Lyke dreadfull Spirits, with terror doe torment him : The enuious dogge, angry with darcknes, howles, Lyke messengers from damned ghosts were sent him, Or with hells noysome terror to present him : Vnder his roofe the buzzing night- Crow sings, Clapping his windowe with her fatall wing?. MOUTIMEEADOS. 315 Death still prefigur'd in his fearfull dreames Of raging Feinds and Goblins that he meets, Of falling downe from steepe-rocks into streames, Of Toombs, of Graues, of Pits, of winding sheets, Of strange temptations and seducing sprits ; And with his cry awak'd, calling for ayde, His hollo we voyce doth make him selfe afrayd. Oft in his sleepe he sees the Queene to llye him, Sterne Mortimer pursue him with his sword : His Sonne in sight, yet dares he not come nigh him, To whom he calls, who aunswereth not a word ; And lyke a monster wondred and abhord, Widowes and Orphans following him with cryes. Stabbing his hart, and scratching out his eyes. Next comes the vision of his bloody raigne, Masking along with Lancasters sterne ghost. Of eight and twentie Barrons hang'd and slayne, Attended with the rufull mangled host, At Burton and at Borough battell lost ; Threatning with frownes, and trembling euery Km, With thousand thousand curses cursing him. And if it chaunce that from the troubled skyes Some little brightnes through the chinks giue light. Straight waieg on heaps the thrunging clouds doe rise. As though the heauen were angry with the night, Deformed shadowes glimpsing in his sight; As though darcknes, for she more darcke would bee, Through these poore Crannells forc'd her selfe to see. 2 R 2 316 MORTIMERIADOS. Within a deepe vault, vnder where he lay, Vnburied filthie carcasses they keepe : Because the thicke walls hearing kept away, His feeling feeble, seeing ceas'd in sleepe, This lothsome stinck comes from the dungeon decpe, As though before they fully did decree, No one sence should from punishment be free. Hee haps our English Chronicle to find. On which, to passe the howers, he falls to reed, For minuts yet to recreate his mind, If any thought one vncar'd thought might feed ; But in his breast new conflicts this doth breed. For when sorrowe is seated in the eyes. What ere we see Increaseth miseries. Opening the Booke, he chaunced, first of all, On conquering Williams glorious comming in, The Normans rising, and the Bryttainsfall, Noting the plague ordayn'd for Harolds sinne. How much in how short time this Duke did winne. Great Lord (quoth hee) thy conquests plac'd thy throne, I to mine owne haue basely lost mine owne. Then comes to Eufus, a lasciuious King, Whose lawlesse rule on that which he enioy'd A sodaine end vnto his dayes doth bring, Himselfe destroy'd in that which he destroy'd : None moaue his death whose lyfe had all anoy'd. Eufus (quoth he) thy fault far lesse then mine. Needs must my plague be far exceeding thine. MORTIMERIADOS. 31*7 To famous Bewclarke studiouslie he turnes, Who from Duke Eobert doth the scepter wrest, Robert short-thigh, Whose eyes put out, in flintie Cardiffe mornes, i "^^^ orman y. In Palestine who bare his conquering crest, Who though of Realmes, of fame not dispossest. In all afflictions this may comfort thee, Onely my shame in de^th remaines (quoth hee.) Then comes he next to Stephens troublous state, Plagu'd with the Empresse, in continuall warre, Yet with what patience he could beare his hate, And, lyke a wise-man, rule his angry starre. Stopping the wheele of Fortunes giddie carre. ! thus (quoth he) had gracelesse Edward done, He had not now beene Subiect to his Sonne. Then to Henry. Plantaginet he goes. Two Kings at once, two Crown'd at once, doth find. The roote from whence so many mischiefes rose : The Fathers kindnes makes the Sonne vnkind, Th' ambitious Brothers to debate inclind. Thou crown'st thy Sonne, yet liuing still do'st raigne. Mine vncrownes me (quoth he) yet am I slaine. Then of couragious Lyon-hart he reeds. The Souldans terror, and the Pagans wrack ; The Easterne world fild with his glorious deeds. Of loppas siege, of Cipres wofull sack. Richard (quoth hee) turning his dull eyes backe, Thou did'st in height of thy felicitie, I in the depth of all my miserie. 318 MORTIMERIADOS. Then by degrees to sacriligious lohn, Murthering young Arthur hath vsurpVl his right ; The Cleargies curse, the poors oppression, The greeuous crosses that on him did light, To Eooms proud yolce yeelding his awful might. Euen by thy eud (he sayth) now, lohn, I see, Gods iudgements thus doe iustly fall on mee. Then to long-raigning Winchester, his sonne, With whom his people bloody warre did wage. And of the troubles in his time begunne, The head strong Barrons wrath, the Commons rage. And yet how he these tumults could aswage. Thou liuest long (quoth he) longer thy name, And I dye soone, yet ouer-liue my fame. Then to great Longshanks mighty victories, Who in the Oreads fix'd his Countries mears; And dar'd in fight our fayths proud Enemies, Which to his name eternall Trophies rears, Whose gracefull fauors yet faire England wears. Bee't deadly sinne (quoth he) once to defile This Fathers name with me, a sonne so vile. Following the leafe, he findeth vnawars What day young Edward Prince of Wales was borne; Which Letters seeme lyke Magick Charrecters, Or to dispight him they were made in scorne. ! let that name (quoth he) from Books be torne, Least that in time the very greened earth Doe curse piy mothers woombe, and ban my birth. MOBTIMERIADOS. 319 Say that King Edward neuer had such child, Or was deuour'd as hee in cradle lay : Be all men from my place of birth exil'd ; Let it be sunck, or swallowed with some sea: Let course of yeeres deuoure that dismall day, Let all be doone that power can bring to passe, Onely be it forgot that ere I was. The globy tears impearled in his eyes. Through which as glasses hee is forc'd to looke. Make letters seeme as circles, which arise Forc'd by a stone within a standing Brooke; And at one time so diuers formes they tooke, Which like to vglie monsters doe affright. And with their shapes doe terrific his sight. Thus on his carefull Cabin falling downe, Enter the Actors of his tragedy, Opening the doores, which made a hollow soune, As they had howl'd against theyr crueltie, Or of his paine as they would prophecie ; To whom, as one which died before his death. He yet complaynes, whilst paine might lend him breath, ! be not Authors of so vile an act. To bring my blood on your posteritie. That Babes euen yet vnborne doe curse the fact : 1 am a King, though King of miserie, I am your King, though wanting maiestie ; But he who is the cause of all this teene. Is cruell March, the Champion of the Queene. 320 MOBTIMERIADOS. He hath my Crowne, he hath my Sonne, my wyfe, And in my throne tryumpheth in my fall. Is't not inough, but he will haue my life? But more, I feare that yet this is not all: , I thinke my soule to iudgement he will call; And in my death his rage yet shall not dye, But persecute me ,so immortallie. And for you deadly hate me, let me Hue, For that aduantage angrie heauen hath left. Fortune hath taken all that she did giue, Yet that reuenge should not be quite bereft, Shee leaues behind this remnant of her theft. That miserie should find, that onely I Am far more wretched then is miserie. Betwixt two beds these deuils straight enclos'd him : Thus done, vncouering .of his secrete part. When for his death they fitly had disposd him. With burning yron thrust him to the hart. 0, payne beyond all paine, how much thou art ! Which words, as words, may verbally confesse. But neuer pen precisely could expresse. 1 let his tears, euen freezing as they light. By the impression of his monstrous payne, Still keepe this odious spectacle in sight. And shew the manner how the King was slaine. That it with ages may be new againe ; That all may thether come that haue beene told it, And in that mirror of his griefes behold it. MOE.TIMEEIADOS. 321 Still let the building sigh his bitter grones, And with a hollow cry his woes repeate, That sencelesse things, euen mouing sencelesse stones, With agonizing horror still may sweat; And, as consuming in their furious heate, Like boy ling Cauldrons be the drops that fall, Euen as that blood for vengeance still did call. ! let the wofuU Genius of the place, Still haunt the pryson where his life was lost, And with torne hayre, and swolne ilfauored face, Become the guide to his reuengefuU ghost; And night and day still let them walke the Coast, And with incessant howling terrifie, Or mooue with pitty all that trauell by. Tetje vertuous Lady, now of mirth I sing, To sharpen thy sweet spirit with some delight. And somwhat slack this mellancholie string, Whilst I of loue and trynmphs must indite : Too soone againe of passion must I write, Of Englands wonder now I come to tell. How Mortimer first rose, when Edward fell. Downe, lesser lights : the glorious Sunne doth clime ; His ioyfull rising is the worlds proude morne : Now is he got betwixt the wings of Tyme, And with the tyde of Fortune forwards borne, Good Starrs assist his greatnes to subborne," Who haue decreed his raigning for a while. All laugh on him, on whom the heauens doe smile. 2s 322 MOETIMEBIADOS. The pompous sinode of these earthly Gods At Salsbury, appointed by their King To set all euen which had been at ods, And into fashion their dissignes to bring, That peace might now fro their proceedings spring, And- to establish what they had begun, Vnder whose cullour mighty things were done. Heere Mortimer is Earle of March created, Thys honor added to his Barronie ; And vnto fame heere is he consecrated, That titles might his greatnes dignifie : As for the rest, he easely could supply, Who knew a kingdom to her lap was throwne, Which, hauing all, would neuer starue her owne. A pleasing calme hath smooth'd the troubled sea, The prime brought on with gentle falling showers ; The misty breake yet proues a goodly day. And on their heads since heauen her largesse powers. Thats onely ours which we doe vse as ours : Pleasures be poore, and our delights be dead. When as a man doth not enioy the head. Tyme, wanting bounds, still wanteth certainty: Of dangers past in peace wee loue to heare. Short is the date of all extreamity, Long wished things a sweet delight doth beare. Better forgoe our ioyes then still to feare ; Fortune her gifts in vaine to such doth gyue. As when they liue seeme as they did not liue. MORTIMBRIADOS. 323 Now stand they like the two starre fixed Poles, Betwixt the which the circling Spheres doe moue, About whose Axeltree this faire Globe roules, Which that great Moouer by his strength doth shoue, Yet euery point still ending in theyr loue ; For might is euer absolute alone. When of two powers there's true coniunction. The King must take what by theyr power they giue, And they protect what serues for theyr protection : They teach to rule, whilst he doth learne to Hue, T'whom all be subiect Hues in their subiection ; Though borne to rule, yet crown'd by their election : Th'alegiance which to Edward doth belong, Doth make theyr faction absolutely strong. Twelue guide the King, his power theyr powers consist, Peers guide the King, they guide both King and Peers : 111 can the Brooke his owne selfe streame resist, Theyr aged counsell to his younger yeeres. Young Edward rowes, and all the while he steers ; Wei might we think the man were more then blind, Which wanted Sea roomth, and could rule the wind. In lending strength, theyr strength they still retaine, Building his force theyr owne they so repare ; Vnder his raigne in safety they doe raigne, They giue a kingdome, and doe keepe the care. They who aduenture must the booty share : A Princes wealth in spending still doth spred. Like to a Poole with many fountaines fed. 2s2 324 MORTIMERIADOS. They sit at ease, though he sit in the throne; He shaddowes them who his supporters be, And in diuision they be two for one ; An Empyre now must thus be rul'd by three. What they make free they challenge to be free : The King enioyeth but what they lately gaue. They, priuiledg'd to spend, leaue him to saue. Mortimer nine-score ^^^j^g gcQ^e braue Knights belonging to his Court knights in his retinue. _ _ o o At Notingham, which all the Coast commaunds: All parts pay trybute honor to his port, Much may he doe which hath so many hands. This rocke built Castell oner looks the Lands ; Thus lyke a Gyant still towards heauen doth ryse, And fayne would cast the Rocks against the skyes. Where ere he goes there pompe in tryumph goes, Ouer his head Fame soring still doth flye, Th' earth in his presence decks her selfe in showes, And glory sits in greatest Maiestie; Aboundance there doth still in Child-bed lye. For where Fortune her bountie will bestowe. There heauen and earth must pay what she doth owe. In Notingham, the Norths great glorious eye, Crowne of the beautious branch embellish'd soyle. The throne emperiall of his Emperie, His resting place, releeuer of his toyle; Here he enioyes his neuer prized spoyle : There lyuing in a world of all delight. Beheld of all, and hauing all in sight. MORTIMEMADOS. 325 Here, all along the flower-enameld vales Cleere Trent vpon the pearly sand doth slide, And to the meadowes telling wanton tales, Her christall lims lasciuiously in pride With thousand turnes shee casts from side to side, As loth shee were the sweet soyle to forsake, And throw her selfe into the German lake. Whence great hart-harboring Sherwood wildly roues. Whose leauie Forrests garlanding her Towers, Shadowing the small Brooks with her ecchoing groues. Whose thick-plashd sides repulse the Northerne showers, Where Nature sporting in her secret Bowers, This strong built Castle hurketh in her shade As to this end she onely had beene made. There must the glorious Parliament be held; Earth must come in when awful heauen doth send. For whether loue his powerfuU selfe doth weld Thether all powers them selues must wholly bend : Whose hand holds thunder, who dare him offend? And where proud conquest keepeth all in awe, Kings oft are forc'd in seruile yokes to drawe. Heere sit they both vnder the rich estate. Yet neither striue the vpper hand to get, In pompe and power both equall at a rate. And as they came so are they friendly set : He entreth first which first in entring met. A King at least the Earle of March must be. Or else the maker of a King is hee. 326 MORTIMERIADOS. Perhaps he with a smyle the King will grace : His knees growe stifFe, they have forgot to bow, And if he once haue taken vp his place, Edward must come, if he his will would know ; A foote out of his seate he cannot goe : This small word subiect pricks him like a sting, My Empyres Colleage, or my fellow King. ! had felicity feeling of woe, Or could on meane but moderatly feede. Or would looke downe the way that he must goe. Or would abstaine from what diseases breede, To stop the wound before to death he bleede, Warre should not fill Kings Pallaces with moane. Nor perrill come when tis least thought vpon. Ambition with the Eagle loues to build. Nor on the Mountayne dreads the winters blast, But with self- soothing doth the humor guild. With arguments correcting what is past Fore-casting kingdomes, daungers vnforecast ; Leaning this poore word of content to such Whose earthly spirits haue not his fierie tuch. But pleasures neuer dine but on excesse. Whose dyet made to drawe on all delight. And ouercome in that sweet drunkennes. His appetite maintayned by his sight, Strengthneth desier, but euer weakneth might, Vntill this vlcer, ripening to a head, Vomits the poyson which it nourished. MOBTIMERIADOS. 327 Euen as a flood swelling beyond his bounds Doth ouer-presse the channel where he flowed, And breaking forth the neighbour meadows drowns, That of him selfe him selfe doth quite vnload, Dispearcing his owne greatnes all abroad. Spending the store he was maintayned by, Empties his Brooke, and leaues his Channell dry. Vpon this subiect enuie might deuise. Here might she prooue her mischeefe-working wings, An obiect for her euer-waking eyes, Wherein to stick a thousand deadly stings, A ground whereon to build as many things; For where our actions measure no regard, Our lawlesse will is made his owne reward. Here vengeance calls destruction vp from hell, Coniuring mischeefe to deuise a curse. Increasing that which more and more did swell, Adding to ill to make this euill worse, Whilst hatefull pride becomes ambitions nurse. T'is incedent to those whom many feare Many to them more greeuous hate doe beare. And now those fewe which many tears had spent, And long had wept on olde King Edwards graue. Find some begin to pittie their lament, Wishing the poore yet some redresse might haue. Reuenge cannot denie what death doth craue : Opening their eares what so abhord their eyes, 111 will too soone regardeth enuies cryes. 328 MORTIMEBIADOS. Time calls account of what before is past, And tlirust[s] on mallice pressing to be hard : Vnto misfortune all men goe too fast ; Seldome aduantage is in wrongs debard, Nor in reuenge a meane is neuer spard ; For when once pryde but poynteth towards his fall, He bears a sword to wound him selfe with all. Edward whose shoulders now were taught to peyze Briareus burthen, which opprest him so. His current stop'd with these outragious Seas, Whose gulfe receau'd the tyde should make him ilowe. This Rocke cast in the way where he must goe. That honor brooks no fellowship hath tryde, Nor neuer Crowne Corriuall could abyde. Some vrge that March, meaning by blood to rise. First cut off Kent, fearing he might succeed, Trayning the King to what he did deuise, Lymming in cullors this vnlawfull deed, And to his owne the royall blood to weed : Thus every strawe prooues fewell to the fier. When counsell doth concurre with our desier. All fence the tree which serueth for a shade. Whose great growne body doth repulse the wind, Vntill his wastfull branches doe inuade The straighter plants, and them in pryson bind; Then, lyke a foule deuower of his kind, Vnto his roote all put their hands to hewe, Whoose roomth but hinder other which would srow. MORTIMEMADOS. 329 Greatn.es, lyke to the Sunnes reflecting powers, The fen-bred vapours naturally exhales, And is the cause that oft the evening lowers, When foggie mists enlarge their duslde sailes, That his owne beams he in the clouds impales. And eyther must extinguish his owne light. Or by his vertue cause his propper night. Of winter thus whilst they prognosticate, He hath the Sommer, and a fruitfuU yeare. And still is soothed by his flattering fate, For still the starre which guides him doth appeare : Hee looks far off, yet sees not daunger neare ; For oft we see before a sodaine shower The sunne shines hott'st, and hath greatest power. Now sphears with Musick make a new worlds birth, Bring on agalne olde Saturns golden raigne, Kenewe this wearie barren- wombed earth. And rayse aloft the sunnes declyning wayne. And by your power make all things young agayne : Orpheus once more to Thebes olde Forrests bring, Drinke Nectar whilst the Gods are banquetting. Within this Castell had the Queene deuisd A stately Chamber with the pencill wrought. Within whose compasse was imparadizd What euer Arte or rare inuention taught. As well might seeme far to exceed all thought, That were the thing on earth to moue delight. He should not want it to content his sight. 2 T 330 MORTIMERIADOS. Heere Phcebus clipping Hiacynthus stood, Whose lyues last drops his snowie breast imbrewe, Mixing his christall tears with purple blood, As were it blood or tears none scarcely knewe; Yet blood and tears one from the other drewe : The little wood-nimphs chafing him with balme, To rayse this sweet Boy from this deadly qualme. Here lyes his Lute, his Quiuer, and his bowe. His golden mantle on the greene-spred ground, That from the things themselues none could them know : The sledge so shadow'd still seem'd to rebound, Th' wound being made, yet still to make a wound : The purple flower with letters on the leaues Springing that Nature oft her selfe deceaues. The milke-white Heifor, lo^ loues faire rape, Viewing her new-ta'en figure in the Brooke, The water seeming to retayne the shape Which lookes on her as shee on it doth looke. That gazing eyes oft-times them selues mistooke ; By prospectiue deuis'd that looking nowe, Shee seem'd a Mayden, then againe a Cowe. Then Mercuric amidst his sweetest ioyes Sporting with Hebe by a Fountayne brim. Clipping each other with lasciuious toyes. And each to other lapped lim to lim. On tufts of flowers which loosely seeme to swim : Which flowers in sprinckled drops doe still appeare As all their bodies so embraudered were. MOBTIMEMADOS. 331 Heere clyffy Cynthus, with a thousand byrds Whose checkerd plumes adorne his tufted crowne, Vnder whose shadow graze the stragHng heards, Out of whose top the fresh springs tumbling downe, Duly keepe time with theyr harmonious sowne ; The Eock so liuely done in every part, As arte had so taught nature, nature arte. The naked Nymphes, some vp, some downe discending, Small scattering flowers one at another flung, "With pretty turns their lymber bodies bending, Cropping the blooming branches lately sprong. Which on the Rooks grewe here and there among : Some combe theyr hayre, some making garlands by, As lining they had done it actually. And for a trayle Caisters siluer Lake, Whose heards of Swanns sit pruning on a row. By their much whitenes such reflection make. As though in Sommer had been falne a snow ; Whose streame an easie breath doth seeme to blowe. Which on the sparkling grauell runns in purles. As though the waues had been of sillier curies. Here falls proude Phaeton, tumbling through the clowds : The sunny Palfreys haue their traces broke, And setting fire vpon the welked shrowds, Now through the heauen flye gadding from the yoke. The Sphears all reeking with a mistie smoke, Drawne with such life, as some did much desire To warme themselues, some frighted with the fire. 2 t2 332 MORTIMEEIADOS. And drenclit in Po the Riuer seemes to burne. His wofuU sisters mourning there he sees, Trees vnto, women seeme themselues to turne, Or rather women turned into trees, Drops from their boughs, or tears fall from their eyes, That fire seem'd to be water, water flame, Eyther or neyther, and yet both the same. A stately Bed vnder a golden tree. Whose broad leau'd branches, couering ouer all. Spread their large Armes like to a Canapy, Dubbling themselues in their lasciuious fall; Vpon whose top the flying Cupids spraule. And some at sundry cullored byrds doe shute, Some swaruing vp to get the golden fruite. A counterpoynt of Tyssue, rarely wrought Like to Arachnes web, of the Gods rape ; Which with his lifes strange history is wrought, The very manner of his hard escape ; From poynt to poynt each thing in perfect shape, As made the gazers thinke it there was done. And yet time stayd in which it was begun. During thys calme is gather'd that black shoure, Whos vglie clowde the clyme had ouer-spred. And now drawes on that long death-dating houre : His fatall starre now hangeth o're his head ; His fortunes sunne downe towards the euening fled; For when we thinke we most in safety stand, Great'st dangers then are euer near'st at hand. MOHTIMERIADOS. 333 And Edward sees no meanes can euer boote, Vnlesse thys head-strong course he may restraine, And must pluck vp these mischiefs by the roote, Els, spred so farre, might easely grow againe, And end theyr raigne, if he doe meane to raigne The Common weale to cure, brought to that passe Which like a many-headed Monster was. But sith he finds the danger to be such. To bring this Beare once bay ted to the stake, And that he feeles the forwardest to gruch To take in hand this sleeping dog to wake. He must fore-think of some such course to take. By which he might his purpose thus effect, And hurt him most where he might least suspect. A trenched vault deepe in the earth is found. Whose hollownes, like to the Sleep-gods Cell, With strange Meanders turneth vnder ground ; Where pitchy darknes euer-more doth dwell. As well might be an entrance into hell,> Which Archyteckts to serue the Castell made, When as the Dane with warrs did all inuade. Heere silent night, as in a pryson shrowded, Wandreth about within thys mazed roome, With filthy fogs and earthly vapors clowded. As shee was buried in this cliffy toombe, Or yet vnborne within the earths great woombe : A dampy breath comes from the moysted vaines, As shee had sigh'd through trouble in her paines. 334 MOETIMEKIADOS. Xow on along this cranckling path doth keepc. Then by a rock turnes vp another way, Then rising vp shee poynteth towards the deepc As the ground leuell or vnleuell lay; Nor in his course keepes any certaine stay, Till in the Castell, in a secret place, He suddainly vnmaske his duskie face. The King now, with a strong selected crue Of such as he with his intent acquainted. And well affected to thys action knewe, Nor- in reuenge of Edward neuer fainted. Whose loyall fayth had neuer yet beene tainted, This Labyrinth determins to assay, To rouze the beast which kept him thus at bay. The blushing Sunne plucks in his smyling beames, Making his steeds to mend theyr wonted pace, Till plunging downe into the Ocean streames. There in the frothy wanes he hides his face ; Then reynes them in more then his vsuall space. And leaues foule darknes to possesse the skyes, A time most fit for fouler tragedies. With Torches now they enter on his Caue, As night were day, and day were turnd to night, Damp'd with the foyle one to the other gaue: Light hating darknes, darknes hating light. As enemies, each with the other fight, And each confounding other, both appeare. As darknes light, and light "but darknes were. MORXIMEBIADOS. 335 The craggy cleeues, which crosse them as they goe, Seeme as their passage they would haue denied, And threatning them their iourney to for-slowe, As angry with the path that was their guide ; Cursing the hand which did them first deuide, Theyr combrous falls and risings seem'd to say, Thys wicked action could not brooke the day. These gloomy Lamps, by which they on were led, Making theyr shaddowes follow at theyr back. Which like to Mourners waite vpon the dead, And as the deed so are they vgly black : Like to the dreadfull Images of wrack. These poore dym-burning lights, as all amazed, At those deformed shades whereon they gazed. Theyr clattering Armes their Masters seeme to chyde. As they would reason wherefore they should wound, And striking with the poynts from side to side As they were angry with the hollow ground, Whose stony roofe lock'd in their dolefull sound. And hanging in the creeks draw backe againe. As willing them from murther to refraine. Now, after masks and gallant reuelings, The Queene vnto the Chamber is with-drawne. To whom a cleer-voyc'd Eunuch plays and sings; And vnderneath a Canapy of Lawne, Sparkling with pearle like to the cheerfull dawne, Leaning vpon the breast of Mortimer, Whose voice more then the musick pleasd her eare. 336 MOBTIMEllIADOS. A smock wrought witli the purest Affrick silke, A worke so fine, as might all worke refine: Her breast like strains of violets in milk, ! be thou hence-forth Beauties liuing shrine, And teach things mortall to be most diuine. Enclose Loue in thys Labyrinth about. Where let him wander still, yet ne're get out. Her golden hayre, ah gold ! thou art too base : Were it not sinne but once to name it hayre ? Falling as it would kisse her fairer face ; But no word fayre enough for thing so fayre. Inuention is too bare to paynt her bare ; But where the pen fayles, Pensill cannot show itj Xor can be knowne, vnlesse the minde doe knowe it. Shee lay OS those fingers on his manly cheeke. The Gods pure scepters and the darts of loue, Which with one tuch might make a Tyger meeke. Or might an Atlas easely remoue ; That lilly hand, rich Natures wedding gloue, Which might beget life where was neuer none, And put a spirit into the hardest stone. The fire of precious wood, the lights perfume. Whose perfect cleernes on the painting shone. As euery thing with sweetnes would consume. And euery thing had sweetnes of his owne : The smell where- with they liu'd, & alwaies growne; That light gaue cullour on each thing it fell, And to that cullour the perfume gaue smell. MORTniERIADOS. 337 Vpon the sundry pictures tliey deuise, And from one thing they to an other runne : Now they commend that body, then those eyes, How well that byrd, how well that flower was done, The liuely counterfetting of that sunne ; The cullors, the conceits, the shadowings. And in that Arte a thousand sundrie things. Looking vpon proud Phaeton, wrapd iti fier. The gentle Queene doth much bewaile his fall; But Mortimer more praysing his desier To loose his lyfe, or else to gouerne all : And though (quoth he) he now be Fortunes thrall, This must be sayd of him, when all is done, Hee perrish'd in the Chariot of the Sunne. Glaunsing vpon Ixion shee doth smile, Wlio for his luno tooke the cloud amisse. Madam (quoth hee) thus women, can beguile. And oft we find in loue this error is. Why, friend, (quoth shee) thy hap is lyke to -his: That booteth not (quoth he); were he as I, loue would haue beene in monstrous iealousie. (She sayth) Phcsbus is too much forc'd by Art, Nor can shee find how his imbraces bee ; But Mortimer now takes the Paynters part. 'Tis euen thus, great Empresse ; so (quoth he) Thus twyne their armes, and thus their lips you see. You Phoebus are, poore Hiacinthus I; Kisse me till I reuiue, and now I die. 2 tr 338 MORTIMEEIADOS. By this into the vttermost stately hall Is rudely entred this disordred rout ; And they within, suspecting least of all, Prouide no guard to watch on them without. Thus danger falls oft-times, when least we doubt ; In perrill thus we thinke our selues most sure, And oft in death fond men are most secure. His trustie Neuill, and young Turrington, Courting the Ladies, frolick, voyd of feare, Staying delights whilst time away doth runne; What rare Emprezas hee and he did beare. Thus in the Lobby whilst they sporting weare, Assayld on sudaine by this hellish trayne, Both in the entrance miserably slayne. Euen as from snow-topd Skidos frostie cleeues . Some Norway Haggard to her pitch doth tower, And downe amongst the moore-bred Mallard driues, And through the aire right down the wind doth scower, Commaunding all that lye within her power : Euen such a skreame is hard within the vault. Made by the Ladies at the first assault. March hath no armes but the Queene in his armes, To[o] fayre a sheeld to beare their fouler blowes, Enohayning his strong armes in her sweet armes, Inclosing them which oft did her inclose. ! had he had but weapons lyke his woes, Her presence had redoubled then his might, To lyu'e and dye both in his soueraigns sight. MOETIMEBIADOS. 339 Villains ! (quoth hee) I doe protect the King. Why Centaure-lyke doe you disturbe me this, And interrupt the Gods at banquetting, Where sacred Himen euer present is, And pleasures are imparadizd in blis; Where all the powers their earthly heauen would take. If heere on earth they their abode should make ? Her presence pardons the offenders ill, And makes the basest earthly thing diuine. Ther's no decree can countermaund her will: Shee, like the Sunne, doth blesse where she doth shine ; Her Chamber is the most vnspotted shrine : How sacriligiously dare you despise, And thus prophane these halowed liberties? But, Edward, if this enterprize be thine. And thou an Actor heere do'st play thy part, I tell thee then, base King, thy Crowne was mine. And thou a King but of my making art. And nowe, poore worme, since thou hast taken hart. Thou would'st hew downe that pillar vnto wrack, Which hath sustaynd Olimpus on his back. What can he doe that is so hard beset? The heauen-threatniilg Gyants heauen could tame ; Proud Mars is bound within an yron net, Alcides burnt in Nessus poysned flame ; Great loue can sh,ake the vniuersall frame. He that was wont to call his sword to ayde, 'Tis hard with him when he must stand to plead. 2 ij2 340 MORTIMERIADOS. ! hadst tliou in thy glory thus beene slayne, All thy delights had beene of easie rate ; But now thy fame, yet nener tuch'd with stayne, IMust thus be branded with thy haplesse fate. No man is happie till his lyfes last date : His pleasures must be of a dearer price, Poore Adam driuen out of Paradice. Halfe drownd in tears shee foUowes him. teares ! Elixar like, turne all to pearle you weet. To weepe with her the building scarce forbears, Stones metamorphizd tuch'd but with her feete, And make the ayre for euerlasting sweet. Wringing her hands, with pittious shreeking cries Thus vtters shee her hard extreamities. Edward (quoth shee) let not his blood be shed : Each drop of it is more worth then thy Crowne. What Eegion is in Europe limitted. Where doth not shine the Sunne of his renowne ? His sword hath set Kings vp, & thrown them downe. Thou knowst that Empires neuer haue confind The large-spred bounds of his vnconquer'd mind. And if thou feed'st vpon thy Father's wrongs. Make not reuenge to bring reuenge on thee. What torture thou inflict'st to me belongs, And what is due to death is due to mee. Imagine that his wounds fresh bleeding bee : Forget thy birth, thy crowne, thy loue, thy Mother, And in this breast thy sword in vengeance smother. MORTIMEMADOS. 341 ! let my hands held vp appease this stryfe : ! let these knees, at which thou oft hast stood, Now kneele to thee to beg my lyues true lyfe ; This wombe that bare thee, breast that gaue thee food; Or let my blood yet purchase his deere blood. ! let my tears, which neuer thing could force, Constraynd by this, yet moue thee to reraorce. But all in vaine : still Edwards ghost appears. And cryes reuenge, reuenge! vnto his Sonne. And now the voyce of wofuU Kent hee hears. And bids him followe what he had begun ; Nor will they rest till execution done : The very sight of him he deadly hated, Sharpens the edge his Mothers tears rebated. To London now a wofull prisoner led, London, where he had tryumph'd, with the Queene. He followeth now whom many followed ; And scarce a man, who many men had beene, Seeing with greefe who had in pompe been scene : Those eyes which oft haue at his greatnes gazed, Now at his fall must stand as all amazed. misery ! where once thou art possest. How soone thy faynt infection alters kind, And lyke a Cyrce turnest man to beast, And with the body do'st transform e the mind. That can in fetters our affections bind ; That he whose back once bare the Lyons skin, Whipt to his taske,, with lole must spin. 342 MORTIMERIADOS. Edward and March, vnite your angry spirits, Become new friends of aunoient Enemies: Hee was thy death, and hee thy death inherits. How well you consort in your miseries, And in true time tune your aduersities ! Fortune gaue him what shee to Edward gaue, Not so much as thy end but he will haue. At Westminster a Parliament decreed, Vnder pretence of safetie to the Crowne, When to his fatall end they now proceed ; All working hard to dig this Mountayne downe, With his owne greatnes that is ouer-growne. The King, the Earle of Kent, the Spensers fall Vpon his head, with vengeance thundring all. The five Articles The death of Edward neuer is forgot, ■wherevpon Mortimer , ^ ^^ . is condemned. The signe at Stanhope to the Enemies, lone of the Towers marriage to the Scot, The Spencers coyne seaz'd to his treasuries, Th' assuming of the wards and Lyueries ; These Articles they vrge which might him greeue. Which for his creed he neuer did beleeue. Oh dire reuenge ! when thou in time art rak'd From out the ashes which preserue thee long. And lightly from thy cinders art awak'd, Fuellto feed on, and reuiu'd with wrong. How soone from sparks the greatest flames are sprong. Which doth by Nature to his top aspire, Whose massie greatnes once kept downe his fier. MORTIMEMADOS. 343 Debar d from speech to aunswere in his case, His iudgment publique, and his sentence past, The day of death set downe, the time, and place ; And thus the lot of all his fortune cast, His hope so slowe, his end draw on so fast, With pen and ynke, his drooping spirit to wake, Now of the Queene his leaue he thus doth take. Most mighty Empresse, daine thou to peruse These Swan-like dirges of a dying man ; Not like those Sonnets of my youthfull Muse, In that sweet season when our loue began, When at the Tylt thy princely gloue I wan ; Whereas my thundring Courser, forward set. Made fire to flie from Herfords Burgonet. Thys King, which thus makes hast vnto my death. Madam, you know, I lou'd him as mine owne; And when I might haue grasped out his breath, I set him easely in his Fathers throne. And forc'd the rough stormes backe when they haue blowne : But these forgot, & all the rest forgiuen. Our thoughts must be continually on heauen. And for the Crowne, whereon so much he stands. Came bastard William but himselfe on shore ? Or had he not our Fathers conquering hands. Which in the field our houses Ensigne bore, Which his proude Lyons for theyr safety wore. Which rag'd at Hastings, like that furious Lake From whose sterne wanes our glorious name we take? M4 MORTIMERIADOS. Oh ! had he charg'd me mounted on that horse, Whereon I march'd before the walls of Gaunt, And with my Launce there shewd an English force, Or vanquisht me, a valiant combattant. Then of his conquest had he cause to vaunt ; But he whose eyes durst not behold my shield, Perceiu'd my Chamber fitter then the field. I haue not serued Fortune like a slaue. My minde hath suted with her mightines ; I haue not hid her tallent in a graue. Nor burying of her bounty made it lesse : ily fault to God and heauen I must confesse ; He twise offends who sinne in flattery beares, Yet euery houre he dyes which euer feares. I cannot quake at that which others feare, Fortune and I haue tugg'd together so. What Fate imposeth we perforce must beare, And I am growne familiar with my woe, Vsed so oft against the streame to row; Yet my oiFence my conscience still doth grieue, Which God (I trust) in mercy will forgiue. I am shut vp in silence, nor must speake, Nor Kingdoms lease my life, but I must die : I cannot weepe and if my hart should breake, Nor am I sencelesse of my misery ; My hart so full hath made mine eyes so dry. I neede not cherrish griefes, too fast they grow : Woe be to him that dies of his owne woe ! MORTIMEKIADOS. 345 I pay my life, and then the debt is payd: With the reward th' offence is purg'd and gone; The stormes will calme when once the spirit is layd : Enuy doth cease wanting to feede vpon. "We haue one life, and so our death is one, Nor in the dust mine honor I inter : Thus Cffisar dyed, and thus dies Mortimer. Liue, sacred Empresse, and see happie dayes. Be euer lou'd, with me die all our hate : Let neuer ages sing but of thy praise, My blood shall pacific the angry Fate, And cancell thus our sorrowes long-liu'd date ; And treble ten times longer last thy fame, Then that strong Tower thou calledst by my name. To Nottingham this Letter brought vnto her, Which is endorsed with her glorious stile, Shee thinks the title yet againe doth wooe her. And with that thought her sorrowes doth beguile; Smyling on that, thinks that on her doth smyle: Shee kissing it, (to counteruaile her paine) Tuching her lip, it giues the kisse againe. Faire workmanship, quoth she, of that faire hand, All moouing organ, sweet spheare-tuning kay; The Messenger of loues sleep-charming wand. Fully which draw'st the curtaine of the Day, Pure Trophies reard to guide on valurs way, What paper-blessing Charrecters are you, Whose louely forme that louelier engine drew ! 2 X 346 MOBTIMEBIADOS. Turning the Letter, seal'd stee doth it find, With those rich Armes borne by his glorious name, Where-with this dreadfull euidence is sign'd : ! badge of honour, greatest marke of fame, Braue shield, quoth she, which once fro heauen came; Fayre robe of tryumph, loues celestiall state, To all immortall prayses consecrate. Going about to rip the sacred seale. Which cleaues, least clowdes too soone should dim her eyes, As loth it were her sorrowes'to reueale, Quoth shee, thy Maister taught thee secrecies. The soft waxe with her fingers tuch doth rise, Shee asketh it, who taught thee thus to kisse ? I know, quoth shee, thy Maister taught thee thys. Opening the Letter, Empresse shee doth reed. At which a blush from her faire cheekes arose, And with Ambrozia still her thoughts doth feed. And with a seeming ioy doth paint her woes : Then to subscribed Mortimer shee goes, March following it, 6 March ! great March ! shee cryes, Which speaking word euen seemingly replyes. Thus hath shee ended, yet shee must begin : Euen as a fish playing with a bayted hooke. Now shee begins to swallow sorrow in. And Death doth shewe himselfe at euery looke. Now reads shee in her Hues accounting Booke, And findes the blood of her lost friend had payd The deepe expenses which shee forth had layd. MORTIMBRIADOS. 347 Now with an host of wofull words assayl'd, As euery letter wounded lyke a dart, As euery one would boast which most preuayl'd, And euery one would pierce her to the hart, Kethoricall in woe, and vsing Art, Reasons of greefe each sentence doth infer, And euere lyne a true remembrancer. Greefe makes her read, yet greefe still bids her leaue. Ore charg'd with greefe she neither sees nor heares : Her sorrowes doe her sences quite deceaue. The words doe blind her eyes, the sound her eares ; And now for vescues doth she vse her teares, And when a lyne shee loosely ouer-past, The drops doe tell her where shee left the last. ! now she sees: was euer such a sight? And seeing curs'd her sorrow-seeing eye, And sayth, shee is deluded by the light. Or is abus'd by the Orthography; Or poynted false her schollershyp to try. Thus when we fondly sooth our owne desires, Our best conceits doe prooue the greatest lyers. Her trembling hand as in a Feuer shakes, Wherwith the paper doth a little stirre, Which, shee imagins, at her sorrow quakes, And pitties it who, shee thinks, pitties her ; And mouing it bids it that greefe refer. Quoth shee, He raine downe showers of tears on thee; When I am dead weepe them againe on mee. 2x2 348 MORTIMERIADOS. Quoth shee, with odors were thy body burned, As is Th' arabian byrd against the sunne, Againe from cynders yet thou should'st be turned, And so thy life another age should runne, Nature enuying it so soone was done: Amongst all byrds one onely of that straine, Amongst all men one Mortimer againe. I will preserue thy ashes in some Vrne, Which as a relique I will onely saue. Which mixed with my tears as I doe mourne, Within my stomack shall theyr buriall haue. Although deseruing a farre better graue ; Yet in that Temple shall they be preserued, Where as a Saint thou euer hast been serued. Be thou trans-form'd vnto some sacred tree. Whose precious gum may cure the fainting hart ; Or to some hearbe yet turned mayst thou be, Whose iuyce apply'd may ease the strongest smart ; Or flower, whose leaues thy vertues may impart ; Or stellified on Pegase loftie crest, Or shyning on the Nemian Lyons brest. I thinke the Gods could take them mortall shapes. As all the world may by thy greatnes gather, And loue in some of his light wanton scapes. Committed pretty cusnage with thy father ; Or else thou wholy art celestiall rather, Els neuer could it be, so great a minde Could seated be in one of earthly kind. MORTIMERIADOS. 349 And if, as some affirme, in euery starre There be a world, then must some world be thine; Else shall thy ghost inuade their bounds with warre, If such can mannage armes as be deuine. That here thou hadst ho world the fault was mine And gracelesse Edward, kinling all this fier. Trod in the dust of his vnhappy sier. It was not Charles that made Charles what he was, Whereby he quickly to that greatnes grew. Nor strooke such terror which way he did passe, Nor our olde Grand-siers glory did renew ; But it thy valure was, which Charles well knew, Which hath repulst his Enemies with feare. When they biit heard the name of Mortimer. In Books and Armes consisted thy delight. And thy discourse of Campes, and grounds of state - No Apish fan-bearing Hermophradite, Coch-carried midwyfe, weake, effeminate, Quilted and ruft, which manhood euer hate : A Cato when in counsell thou didst sit, A Hercules in executing it. Now shee begins to curse the King her Sonne ; The Earle of March then comes vnto her mind, Then shee with blessing ends what shee begun. And leaues the last part of the curse behind : Then with a vow shee her revenge doth bind; Vnto that vo^e shee ads a little oth. Thus blessing cursing, cursing blessing both. 350 MOBTIMERIADOS. For pen and inke shee calls tier mayds without, And Edwards dealing will in greefe discouer; But straight forgetting what shee went about, Shee now begins to write vnto her louer, Yet interlyning Edwards threatnings ouer ; Then, turning back to read what shee had writ, Shee teyrs the paper, and condemnes her wit. Thus with the pangs out of this traunce areysed. As water some time wakeneth from a swound. Comes to her selfe, the agonie apeysed. As when the blood is cold we feele the wound ; And more and more, sith she the cause had found. Thus vnto Edward with reuenge shee goes. And hee must beare the burthen of her woes. I would my lap had beene some cruell racke. His cradell Phalaris burning-bellyed Bull, And Nessus shyrt beene put vpon his backe, His Blanket of some Nilus Serpents wooll. His Dug with iuice of Acconite beene full. The song which luld him, when to sleepe he fell, Some Incantation or some Magique spell ! And thus. King Edward, since thou art my Child, Some thing of force to thee I must bequeath : March of my harts true loue hath thee beguild ; My curse vnto thy bosome doe I breath ; And heere inuoke the wretched spirits beneath To see all things perform'd to my intent, Make them ore-seers of my Testament. MORTIMERIADOS. 351 And thus, within these mighty walls inclos'd, Euen as the Owles so hatefull of the light, Vnto repentance euer more dispos'd, Heere spend my dayes vntill my last dayes night ; And hence-forth, odious vnto all mens sight, Flye euery small remembrance of delight, A penitentiall mournfuU conuertite. FINIS NOTES TO MOETIMERIADOS. p. 241, 1. 1. Mortimeriados.] Drayton did not republish this work until 1603, when (besides other material changes) it bore a new title, viz. " The Barrons Wars in the raigne of Edward the Second," and it was accompanied by a reprint of " England's Heroicall Epistles," and by 67 Sonnets, under the heading of "Idea," which are not mentioned on the title-page: the whole was "printed by I. R. for N. Ling. 1603." 8vo. In this impression " The Barons Wars" are preceded by an address " to the Reader," which opens thus : — " That at first I made choice of this argument, 1 have not as yet repented me ; for if the Muse have not much abused me, it was most worthy to have found a more worthy pen than mine own." He then goes on to notice the " insuflScient handling " of the subject in his first impression, owing partly to the want of leisure while travelling, adding, that the "importunity of friends" (an excuse then sometimes made, and oftener since) had induced him to publish it, contrary to his own judgmeht. He thus accounts for the alteration he had made in the title: — " Grammaticasters have quarrelled at the title of Mortimeriados, as if it had been a sin against syntaxis to have subscribed it in the second case ; but not their idle reproof hath made me now abstain from fronting it by the name of Mortimer at all, but the same better advice, which hath caused me to alter the whole." He then states that he had recast the form of the poem by changing the stanzas from seven lines, commonly known as the Enghsh measure, to eight lines, originally adopted in our language from the Italian, Boiardo, Ariosto, Tasso, and other great poets having made it popular. Sir John Harington had followed it in his translation of Orlando Furioso in 1591, and Edward Fairefax employed it in his version of the Gerusalemme Liberata in 1600. Thus, English readers were well prepared in 1603 to receive it from Drayton in a poem on important events of our history. In "Mortimeriados," as it originally appeared in 1596, there are no positive divi- sions, but pauses are marked in different places, in the manner in which we have ob- served them. However, when Drayton re-modelled the whole production in 1 603, he NOTES. 353 divided it into six separate '' books," and remarlied in his preface, " The Italians use cantos, and so our first late great Eeformer, Master Spenser: that I assume another name for the sections in this volume cannot be disgracious nor unavow- able." He therefore terms his divisions " books '' at the beginning of each ; but nevertheless, at the end of five of them, he distinctly calls them " cantos," as Spenser had done in 1590 aid 1596. He also placed an " argument " at the head of each " book," in imitation of the Italian method, but of this addition he says nothing These arguments we have inserted in our Notes, in order that we might not disturb the original text of the poem, as it first came from the poet's pen. The laudatory sonnets by other writers, prefixed to the edition of '' The Barons' Wars," in 1603, are placed by themselves. P. 141, 1. 7. Printed by I. E. for Mathew Lownes.J Among Malone's books in the Bodleian is a copy of this poem, the title-page of which only differs in the imprint, and in being without date: the imprint of that copy, the only one known, is this: " At London, Printed by I. E. for Humfry Lownes, and are to be solde at his shop at the West end of Paules Church." No doubt, the two Lownes, Mathew and Humfry, had a joint interest in the publication, and copies were worked off with their several names and addresses: why the date was omitted in those of Humfry Lownes does not appear: they are from the same types, but still with variations. P. 243, 1. 4. Earest of Ladies, aU, of all I haue.J It is remarkable that Drayton never reprinted this address to Lady Bedford, regarding whom see note to p. 193. It is possible that in 1603, for some unexplained reason, she had withdrawn her patron- age, as well as her " sweet golden shoAvers,'' which Drayton begail to repay her in verse in 1594. On the other hand, we find him repeating the sonnet prefixed to " Endimion and Phcebe " in the various editions of his poems from 1594 to 1619. It seems out of the question to suppose that Lady Bedford could be the Selena whom Drayton so severely handled, in the second impression of his Pastorals, for having abandoned him in favour of a person he names Cerberon. See Note on p. 138. P. 244, 1. 8. And LaureU crowned Sidney, Natures pride.] This reference to Sidney seems rather forced and needless: four lines below, we should be disposed to read " his owne blood " for " her owne blood," unless we are to suppose that the author refers to the blood of virtue, and not of Sidney: his and " her '' were not unfrequently mistaken for each other by old printers, because "her" was often spelled Mr: of this error we shall have other instances, see pp. 362, 366, &c.' P. 244, 1. 28. If lynes can ,gyue thee immortalitie.] Drayton may not here advert so much to his own powers of conferring immortality, as to those of other poets who 2t 354 MORTIMERIADOS. had already paid their court to the Countess. Yet in several places he is sufficiently arrogant. P. 246, 1. 3. When God this Avondrous Creature did create.] It is not very clear what the writer of this effusion means by '' wondrous creature," unless we are to take " creature " in the sense of creation. At all events, Drayton seems intended by the same word in the last line ; but the wholfe sonnet is obscure and crabbed, and rather a laudation of Lady Bedford, than of the poet who dedicated his labours to her. E. B. has always been taken to mean Edmund Bolton, the author of some pieces in " England's Helicon," 1600 ; but the production by which he is best known he called Hypercritica, written in the beginning of the seventeenth, but not printed until the beginning of the eighteenth century. It was reprinted in 1815 in the second volume of" Ancient Critical Essays." P. 246, 1. 12. Caused steddily to stand, though heauen did gyre.] i. e. did turn. In the last line but one the expression " whilst hee his thoughts heauen moues " we take simply to mean, whilst heaven moves his thoughts. P. 247, 1. 2. The lowring heauen had mask'd her in a clowde.J When Drayton in 1603 re-modelled and republished this historical epic (as he wished it to be considered) he preceded " the first book " by this " Argument. " The grieuous plagues., and the prodigious signes, That this great warre and slaughter doe foreshow, Th' especiall cause the BarrorMge combines : The Queenes strong grief e, whence many troubles grow; The time by course vnto our fall inclines, And how each country doth to hattell goe : What cause to yeeld the Mortimers pretend. And their commitment perfecting the end.^'' The edit, fo 1619 reads " doth this canto end," with other minor changes. The exordium in 1603 ran thus: — " The bloody factions and rebellious pride Of a strong nation, whose vnmanag'd might Them from their natural! Soueraigne did diuide, Their due subiection, and his lawfuU right, Whom their light error loosely doth misguide, Vrg'd by lewd Minions tryannous despight, Me from soft layes and tender loues doth bring, Of dreadful! fights and horred warres to sing. NOTES. 355 " What hellish furie poysned your hie blood, Or should bewitch you with accursed charmes, That by pretending of the generall good, Rashly extrudes you to tumultuous armes ; And from the safety, wherein late you stood, Reft of all taste and feeling of your harmes, That Fraunce and Belgia with affrighted eyes Were sad beholders of your miseries ? " Th' inueterate ranchor in their boosoms bred. Who for their charter wag'd a former war, Or through your vaines this raging venom spred, Whose next succeeding Nephewes now you are, Or that bote gore your bowes in conquest shed, Hauing enlarg'd your countries bounds so far, Ensigne to ensigne furiously oppose. With blades of Bilbo dealing English blowes. * ' thou, the great director of my Muse, On whose free bounty all my powers depend, Into my breast a sacred fire infuse. Ravish my spirit this great worke to attend! Let the still night my laboured lines peruse, That when my Poems gaine their wished end. They whose sad eyes shall reade this tragique story In my weake hand shall see thy might and glory." For " great director " the fo. 16191ias " wise director," and other varialions. P 248, 1. 6. Humble thy selfe, dispense not with the word.] After the edition of 1596, and anterior to that of 1619, Drayton put the couplet thus: — " Come thou in purenes meekly with the word, Lay not thy hand to the vnhallowed sword.'* P. 248, 1. 24. Great Mortimer, the wonder of a man. J In 1603 Drayton enlarged his character of Mortimer very nobly: — " In all this heate his greatnes first began. The serious subject of our sadder vaine, Braue Mortimer, that euer-matchlesse man. Of the old Heroes great and Grod-like straine, For whom inuention, doing best it can, His weight of honour hardly can sustaine, Bearing his name immortaliz'd and hie, When he in earth vnnumbred times shall lie." It stands, with improyement, "vn-numbred yeeres '' in edit. fo. 1C19. 2 y2 356 MORTIMEEIADOS, P. 250, 1. 22. Her snowy curled brow makes anger smile. ] There is no trace of this stanza in subsequent editions, and perhaps the author thought such an over- strained description of thB Queen's beauty out of place. P. 251, 1. 8. Pale lealousie, child of insatiate loue.J This stanza is quoted (almost of course misquoted) in " England's Parnassus " 1600, p. 144, under the head of " Jealousy." We need hardly say that the citations in that work are necessarily from the edition of " Mortimeriados " printed in 1596: no other impression then existed. P. 251, 1. 26. Synon perswades how Illion might be sackt.] This alhision to Sinon and to his stratagem, is far from happy or applicable: Drayton seems afterwards to have thought so ; and instead of calling Mortimer " The gastly Prologue to tbys tragiok act," he, rather prosaically, substituted, in 1603 and 1619, " Of great employment in this tragick act." P. 252, 1, 28. Reuenge in tears doth euer wash his hands. J This line is given as an axiom in " England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 265, under " Revenge:" Drayton did not think it necessary to repeat it in 1603. The first five lines of the stanza are also extracted in the same miscellany, under the head of " Policy " (p. 239), but with just as many errors as lines. P. 253. 1. 7. A silly Queene, a harmlesse innocent.] Of course, said ironically, as is shewn by what follows. P. 253, 1. 15. Torlton, the learned'st Prelate in the land.] Adam d'Orleton (corrupted to Dorlton and Torlton) does not appear to have been made Bishop of Hereford until 1317, and ten years afterwards he was translated to the diocese of Worcester: he was made Bishop of Winchester in 1333, and died in 1345. He was a learned, but intriguing Prelate. Stow {Annates, 1615, p. 346) particularises a sermon preached by Adam d'Orleton at Oxford, for the Queen and against the King, taking as his text, " My head grieveth mee." P. 254, 1. 1. Like as Sabrina from the Ocean flancks.J In reference to the rapidity and height to which the tide rises in the Severne. What the poet means by " the Ocean flanks," is not very evident here ; and when he re-produced his poem he somewhat improved his simile : — * " As Severne, lately in her ebbes that sanke, Vast and forsaken leaues th' vncouered sands, Fetching full tides, luxurious, hie and ranke, Seemes in her pride t' inuade the neighbouring lands, NOTES. 357 Breaking her limits, couering all the banks, Threatning the prowde hilles with her watry handes, As though she meant her Empery to haue, Where, euen but lately she beheld her graue." It is a bold, but not a very happj personation to make the Severue tlireaten the hills with her watery hands. Drayton nevertheless preserved it in 1619. P. 254, 1. 23. In heauens black night-go wne couered from our sight.] This is probably the first and last time darkness was ever called the " night-gown " of the sun. P. 255, 1. 6. First with the Marchers thinks it fit to cope.] The " Marchers" were the troops brought against the king from the Marches of Wales. P. 255, 1. 18. That they perforce their high-borne top must vayle.J A nautical figure: to " vale '' the top, is to lower the top-mast of a vessel. P. 255, 1. 28. And sends them both as prisoners to the Tower.] i. e. both the Mortimers, but they have not been recently mentioned. This defect does not apply, at least in so great a degree, to the editions of 1603 and 1619. P. 256, 1. 8. Loe! now my Muse must sing of dreadful! Armes.] Here the author has indicated a pause in his story in the original impression: in the rifacimento of 1603 he adds two or three concluding stanzas, among other things promising what shall ensue, not in the next " book," but in the next canto : — , *' Horror beyond the wonted bounds doth swell, As the next Canto dreadfully shal tell." This is followed by the words The end of the first canto; yet, turning the leaf, we read " The second Booke of the Barrens Warres," of which the following is " The Argument. " At Burton-bridge the puissant armies met : The forme and order of the douitfuUfght, Whereas the King the victory doth get, And the prowd Barrons lastly forcde to flight : How they againe towards JiuTTOugh forward set, mere then the Lords are vanquished outright : Lastly, the lawes doe execute their power On those the sword before did not deuoure." P. 256, 1. 15. O thou great Lady, Mistris of my Muse.] This passionate appeal to the Countess of Bedford is not to be traced in any subsequent edition. According to Italian models, which Drayton clearly imitates, it was neither out of taste, nor out of place; and the exclusion of it tends to confirm the suspicion that between 1596 358 MORTIMERIADOS. and 1603 the poet had in some way forfeited the favour of his patroness. In the editions of 1603 and 1619 he has no fewer than ten introductory stanzas before he comes to " Now, our Minerua tells of dreadfull Armes, Inforc'd to sing of worse than ciuill warres, Of Ambuscades, stratagems, alarmes," &c. Drayton was not content with a common-place appeal to his Muse, but resorted to Minerva for assistance. In the ten introductory stanzas he personifies Mischief, and represents her as entering among the discontented lords, while they slept, and dropping poison upon them ': she afterwards proceeds to the King, and, pouring her spirit into him, " Fills his hote veines with arrogance and wrong." It is " arrogance and pride '' in the edit. 1619, but thei-e is nothing very striking or original in the impersonation. P. 257, 1. 27. Yet stay thy foote in murthers vgly gate. J This and the next line are inserted in "England's Parnassus,'' 1600, p. 253, under the head of "Repent- ance." Although Drayton materially changed this stanza in 1603, he left the concluding couplet unvaried. In 1619 he altered " murther" to mischief. P. 258, 1. 6. A mischiefe seene' may easely be preuented.] This axiom also found its way into England's Parnassus,'' 1600, p. 206, under "Mischief." P. 25,8, 1. 15. Cannot the Scot of your late slaughter boast?] Referring to the Battle of Bannockburn in 1314. This portion of the poem is very much the same in the later impressions, of course with the exception of the additional line (sometimes hardly required by the sense) in each stanza. P. 258, 1. 25. Which did the Father of his lyfe depraue.] i e. deprive, altered for the sake of the rhyme. It is not in later impressions. P. 260, 1. 7. Then fall to Armes, but let that be the last. J In 1603, and afterwards, this stanza, concluding with the sentiment that under certain circumstances subjects may take up arms against their sovereign, was entirely omitted. P. 260, 1. 12. The fearful Heards bellowing as they were wood.] "Wood" is wild, or mad. P. 262, 1. 8. Here lyes a heap, halfe slaine, halfe chok'd,halfe drown'd.] Drayton's taste did not so far improve afterwards, as to induce him to reject this and other stanzas which are rather offensive than forcible, belonging more to the " slaughter- house " (a word the poet uses very soon) than to Parnassus. NOTES. 359 p. 262, 1. 25. To the beholder horrible and grim, j Shakespeare, in " Othello," A. v. so. 2., has the same combination of epithets, " I know this act shows horrible and grim." P. 263, 1. 15. Like as an exhalation hote and dry. J When Drayton enlarged and amended this, poem in 1603, he placed this simile somewhat earlier, and altered it thus: — '* Like as an exhalation hote and dry, Amongst the ayre-bred moisty vapors throwne, Spetteth his lightning forth outrageously, Rending the grosse clowdes with the thunder-stone, Whose fierie splinters through the thin ayre flie, That with the terror heauen and earth doth grone ; With the like clamor and confused woe, To the dred shocke these desperate Armies goe." This, we apprehend, is no improvement, especially in the spirit of the last couplet; but in 1619 Drayton restored " thick " for grosse, altered " terror" to horror, and put " confused " for " confused woe." In 1597 Hall had laughed at Stanyhurst for using the word " garboils" (Satires, lib. i. sat. 6), and perhaps, on that account, our author wished to avoid it here ; though he afterwards took courage, and not ' unfrequently employed it. See "England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 444. P. 263, 1. 18. Eenting the thick clowdes with a tlumder-stoijB.J To those who would establish that "to rent" and " to rend " were different words with our old poets, it may be useful to mention, that in 1603 Drayton in this line altered " renting " to rending. P. 264,1.21. Where now my song can be but of your shame.] In 1603 and 1619 Drayton changed the places of this and other stanzas, adding, as usual, a line to each, and making some verbal alterations, not much to their improvement. P. 264, 1. 28. Who, equall peyz'd, yet way'd to neither parts. J i. e. who, equally pois'd. Drayton inserted the following stanza in 1603: — '* When now those wretched and vnstedfast frends, * Which all this while stoode doubtfully to pawse, When they perceiue what destiny intends, And his successe doothjustifie his cause, Their faintnesse now more comfort apprehends; For victory both feare i»nd friendship drawes, T'an open smile conuert a couered frowne. And lend their hands to hew the conquered downe." This, it must be owned, was a valuable addition, amended again in 1G19. 360 MORTIMERIADOS. P. 266, 1. 6. Hem'd on each side, with homes rechating blast.] A recheat, or rechate, was a hunting term for the sounding of the hprn to call back the hounds. See Notes to " Much ado about Nothing," A. 1. sc. 1. P. 266, 1 9. Where, lyke false Eeynard, falser Herckley lay.J Samuel Daniel, the con- temporary of Drayton, writing bis history of this period, after mentioning the defeat of the Barons at Burton-upon-Trent, adds, " Whereupon they retired farther north, and at Borough Brigs were engaged by Sir Simon Ward, Sheriff of York, and Sir Andrew Harkley, Constable of Carlisle, who slew the Earl of Hereford in striving to pass the bridge, and took the Earl of Lancaster and divers other lords pri- soners.'' (Life and Reign of Edward H.) When Drayton re-wrote this poem he merely called Herkley, '' Ambitious Herckley." In 1321, according to Stow, the King created him Earl of Carlisle (AuTUiles, 1615, p. 341) : in the next year he was degraded, and hanged for treason. P. 266, 1. 21. And in the lyuing death should dye with payne.] " The," having been omitted in the old printed copy, has been inserted in old MS. In the first line of the next stanza, sawe is misprinted for " say,'' and what must have been the poet's word is written above. In 1603, and subsequently, Drayton made his meaning plainer, as regards the passage where the first error occurs: — " That dead meifchould in misery remaine, To make the lining die with greater paine." P. 267, 1. 14. Takes lyfe, and these, and all within an hour. J After this stanza, in edit. 1603, the author inserted a passage, which in 1596 he had employed rather earlier in his poem: see p. 265, " Some few themselnes in Sanotnaries hide," &e. P. 268, 1. 28. Seldome doth malice want a meane to worke.] Here we come to another pause in the narrative, and here Drayton, when he republished the poem in 1603, marked the commencement of " The third Booke of the Barrens Warres.'' He considerably altered the conclusion of Book 11., and, among other changes, intro- duced the following stanzas (amended again in 1619), shewing that he still con- tinued faithful to the lady he had designated as " Idea:" — " O, wretched age ! had not these things beene done, I liad not now, in these more calmer times. Into tlie search of former troubles runne ; Nor had my virgine vnpolluted rimes NOTES. 361 Altred the course wherein they firat begunne, To sing these bloodie and vnnaturall crimes ; My layes had still beene of Ideas bowre, Of my deere Ankor, or her loued Stoure, Or for our subiect your faire worth to chuse, Your birth, your virtue, and your hie respects, That gently daine to patronize our Muse, Who our free soule ingeniously elects To publish your deserts, and all your dues, Maugre the Momists and Satyrioke sects, Whilst my great verse eternally is sung, You still may Hue with me in spight of wrong." ' At this date it is clear that Drayton had abandoned, or had been abandoned by, Lady Bedford, as the patroness of his poetry. P. 269, 1. 1- The King now by the conquering Lords consent.] Book III., which may be said to begin here, has this Argument. J " By a sleefie foiion that the Queene ordaines Lord Mortimer escapes out of the Tower; And by false slights, and many subtile traines Shee gets to France to raise a forraigne power: The French King leaves his sister : heede constraines The Queene to Henault in a happie hower. Edward, her sonne, to Philip is affide. And for inuasion presently prouide. P. 269, 1. 25 And mortifie the patient in one hower.] " Mortify "is here used in the sense of destroying the -vital powers for a time. P. 270, 1. 22. Medea, pittifiill in tender yeares.] This stanza, meant as a sort of climax to the preceding, Drayton omitted in subsequent editions. P. 271, 1. 8. Thus, while hee liu'd a prysoner in the Towre.] " Hee " of course refers to the younger Mortimer ; but his name has not lately been mentioned. " As a stale,'' two lines lower, means as a blind, or means of deceiving the keepers. P. 271,1. 12. A stately banquet now he had ordain'd.] In his subsequent editions the author fixes this banquet on Mortimer's birth-day, " His solemn birth-dayes festiuall was kept At his free charge." Stow tells US " On Lammas day, Eoger Mortimer, of Wigmore, by making a 2 z 362 MORTIMEKIADOS, solemne banquet to Sir Stephen Segrave, Constable of the Tower of London, and the other officers, and giving to his keepers a sleepe drinke, escaped out of the Tower." (^Annales, p. 344.) P. 272, 1. 17. And Isis with a troubled murmure rush'd.] Did the poet call the Thames the " Isis " because his verse required two syllables? He afterwards speaks of the Thames. P. 273, 1. 14. A sacred relique it should euer bee.] This, and the preceding stanza, the author did not include in his reprints: they are neither very natural nor very clear. P. 274, 1. 1. As hee descends, so doe her eyes ascend. J " Ascend" is, no doubt, a mis- print: in the edit. 1603 the passage thus stands : — " With hia descent, her eye so still descends, As feare had fix'd it to fore-wame his fall." In 1619 the line took this form " As he descended, so did she descend." P. 274, 1. 13. Now she intreats faire Thames that hee might passe.J Is there not some confusion of persons here? The Queen ought rather to entreat to be permitted to pass the Hellespont to her Leander. * P. 274, 1. 17. Enuies the drops which on her tresses hong.] The drops were upon his tresses, and so we must read. In the later edition of 1603 the text is, " Suspects the drops that on his tresses hung." P. 274, 1. 28. If shee Europa had been present there.] This simile was judiciously excluded after 1596. P. 275, 1. 4. And feare enuits him danger to pursue.] Thus the original; and the later editions afford us no aid, Drayton having also rejected this stanza. P. 275, 1. 15. Thys once againe the world begins to worke.] We must read " Thus" once again," &c., " This '' and thus were not imfrequently confounded by old printers, as well as by old writers. P. 279, 1. 3. While thus things fadge are quicke dispatch applide.J "Are" must be wrong, and " her " would seem right, especially on reference to the impression of 1603, where these lines occur: — " All her endeuours mutually apply'd, "Whilst for her purpose things so fitly were." The folio 1619 gives the last line, " M'hilst things went currant, and well carried were." NOTES. 363 The true word may be ere or or ; and in a case of this uncertainty we prefer reprinting the old text exactly. P. 279, 1. 21. By Mercurie must deale, or neuer speede.J This concluding couplet is quoted under " Policy " in " England's Parnassus,'' 1600, p. 239. P. 279, 1. 24. His strugling still how he againe may get.] Surely we ought to sub- stitute Is for " His:" the parallel passage in 1603 is this: — " In Fraunce now strugling how he might regaine That which before he had in England lost." P.. 280, 1. 8. What wayes he of his wealth or Wigmore left?] In the original it is " our Wigmore left;" but the meaning is, what cares he for his wealth, or for his estate of Wigmore, which he has quitted? Drayton's rifacimento puts it as follows: — "What weighs he wealth, or what his Wigmore left ?" P. 280,1. 14. As they doe progresse heauen, he earth should doe.] The stanza, as the poet amended it in 1603, is worth quoting: — " What weighs he wealth, or what his Wigmore left ? Let. needlesse heape.s, things momentary, stand : He counts not his that can be rapde by theft. Man is the sole lord both of sea and land. And still is rich of these that is not reft, Who of all creatures hath an vpright hand, And by the starres is onely taught to know, That as they progresse iieauen, he earth should do.*' The poet here rises with his subject. We may feel confident that in the copy of 1596, instead of " men looked vp to the starres," we ought to read, Man loohes vp to the starres " The expression does not occur in the fo. 1619. P. 280, 1. 28. This man alone the Destinies did scorne.] In the editions of 1603 and 1605, Drayton here added three stanzas on the character of Mortimer, the import- ance of which will be seen from our " Introduction:" we, therefore, quote them. " And, Muse, transported by thy former zeale, Led in our progresse where his fortune lies, To thy. faire ayde I seriously appeale To sing this man, his magnanimous guise. The auntient'Heroes vnto me reueale. Whose worths may raise our nobler faculties ; That in my verse, transparent, nete and oleere. His character more liuely may appeere. 2 z2 364 MOETIMEKIADOS. " Such one he was, of him we boldely say, In whose rich soule all soveraigne powres did sute : In whome in peace th' elements all lay So mixt, as none could soueraignty impute ; As all did gouerno, yet all did obey: His liuely temper was so absolute That 't seemde, when heauen his modell first began, In him it shewd perfection in a man. So throughly seasond, and so rightly set, As in the levell of cleere iudgements eye. Time neuer tuch't him with deforming fret. Nor had the powre to wrap him once awry ; Whose stedfast course no crosse could euer let : His eleuation was so heauenly hie, Those giddy tempests that the base world proue Sate vnder where he Planet-like did moue." In our Introduction these remarkable stanzas will be found as Drajton caused them to be printed in the fo. 1619. There, too, we have explained the probable reason why the poet altered them, first in 1603, and afterwards in 1619. P. 281, 1. 2. Who cheapeneth honour must not stand on price.J This and the preceding line are quoted in " England's Parnassus,'' 1600, p. 134. The same remark will apply to the concluding couplet of the next stanza, which is quoted on p. 101 of the same misceUany. The long passage (1. 15), beginning " Who wins her grace," &c., down to the line (1. 25) " Yet let him manage her till shee be tame," is extracted on p. 98 of " England's Parnassus." P. 284, 1. 10. The day's nere ill that has a pleasing night.] We have ventured to make a srnall emendation here, the original being " hast " for has or hath. Drayton considerably altered and enlarged this part of his poem in the editions of 1603 and 1619, but did not improve it. P. 285, 1. 21. May sit and talke of Mistresse Gaveston.J There is no trace of this and the three preceding stanzas in subsequent reprints of " Mortimeriados." P. 285, 1. 27. Now entrest thou by force, and holdst by might.j In the original it is " AoZds by might," but it is clearly wrong. Whenthe edit. 1605 prints "% might," for " by might," it was quite as obvious an error: Drayton there gave the next line a still more legal air : — NOTES. 366 " Thou art diseisor of anothers right." In the fo. 1619 he added a marginal note to state that " diseisor '' is a "word borrowed from the Law." P 286, I. 1. Honor, that Idoll weomen so adore. J This stanza was much improved in the edition of 1619. " Thou Idol', Honour, which we Fooles adore, (How many Plagues doe rest in thee to grieve vs) Which when we haue, we find there is much more Then that which onely is a Name can giue vs : Of reall Comforts thou do'st leaue vs poore, And of tliose loyes thou often do''st depriue vs, That with our selues dotli set vs at debate, And makes vs beggers in our greatest state." P. 286, L 18. Euen as a trumpets liuely-sounding voyce.] This simile the poet omitted in his rifacimento. P. 288, 1. 3. And as the Halkes, in hotest Sotlierne dime-] A very unusual way of spelling hawks, but an allusion to the mewing of their sick feathers. P. 288, 1. 14. May sit and sing, and tell of sorrowes past.] Drayton subsequently omitted the reference to Lavinium, and the whole of the figure, altering this portion of his work very materially. P. 289, 1. 1. Like as a well-tund Lute, thats tucht with skill. J This stanza affords an instance of the manner in which a true poet, like Drayton, was sometimes able to add importantly to the beauty of a simile, by the insertion of an eighth line to the original stanza of only seven lines, in the words, " And the ear bathes in harmony at will.'' This renders the image full and complete: in 1603 and 1619 it was transferred to rather an earlier part of the poem. P. 289, 1. 15. Stapleton, who had beene of their counsell long. J In 1603 Drayton called him " fearefull fainting Exeter:'' he was Bishop of that see from 1307 to 1326, when he was executed by the populace. In 1619 Drayton designated him as " that base Bishop." P. 290, 1. 1. Isabell the time doth still and still reiorne.J This line shews in what a brief space, and at what time, particular forms of words went out of use ; it is reiorne in 1596, but Drayton altered it to " adiorne " in 1603. P. 290, 1. 4. Pope lohn with bulls and curses hard assailes.J i. e. Pope John XXII. In the next line, surely, we ought to read again Pope lohn, and not lohn Pope. 366 MORTIMERIADOS. The last line of this stanza, of course, refers to the proverb that the fox fares best when he is most cursed. P. 291, 1. 22. Thou wert not Sonne vnto the Queene, my mother.] These imputations of bastardy were not reiterated: the author erased them after 1596. p. 202, 1. 7. When of the English one shall conquer ten.J This stanza affords an instance the reverse of that which we noticed above, viz. of the weakening of the force of a fine passage by the insertion of a line, only wanted to make up the eight lines of the stanza of the poem as altered in 1603 : nothing can be poorer than the addition of " That shall revenge this wretched injury." It destroys all the animation and vigour of the preceding lines. The author a little retrieved himself in 1619 — " The iust reuenge of thy vile iniurie." P. 292, 1. 13. The onely meane to bend her brothers might. ] The old copy has it " The onely meane to bend his brothers might,'' which must be a printer's blunder, " her " in the manuscript being spelt Jar — the occasion, as has been already observed, of frequent errors. P- 293, 1. 15. Now full seauen times the Sunne his welked waine.J Here " the fourth Book " begins, in the impression of 1603, with the following Argument. Tke Queene in Henault vnightie power doth winne; I'll Harwich kauen safely is arriii'd. Great troubles now in England new heginne : The King of friends and safety is depriu'd, Flieth to Wales, at Neath received in ; Many strange acts and outrages coniriu^d. Edward hetrayde, deliiCred vp at Neath, Tlie Spensers and his friends are put to death. P. 294, 1. 1. Three thousand Souldiers, mustred men in pay.J Before we come to this stanza in the edits. 1603 and 1619, a number of preparatory stanzas are inserted, mainly devoted to the peculiar state of affairs in England, but especially to the treachery, degradation, and punishment of Herkley. When Drayton in the next line speaks " of Almaynes, ISwisers, trustie Henawers," we may doubt whether he has not confounded Hanoverians with natives of Henault, the same whom Spenser, F. Q. B. ii., u. 10, calls Ilenalois — NOTES. 367 " With blood of Henalois, which therein fell." ^ This is in one of Spenser's stanzas left incomplete in the edit. 1590, Sign. x. 7 b; but the blank was subsequently supplied. P. 294, 1. 20. Thy fatall end why doest thou this begin.] There can be little doubt that in this line " this '' ought to be thus ; but the emendation may be avoided. P. 295, 1. 2. Orwell, thy name, or ill, or never was.] This miserable pun Drayton was discreet enough never after to repeat. There is no trace of the stanza in subse- quent impressions; and no part of the poem is altered, in 1603 and 1619, more than the opening of this book. P. 297, 1. 2. Needes must he runne the deu.iU hath inchase.] For a vulgar proverb Drayton judiciously substituted this line in the 8vo. of 1603 : — " Whom danger dooth to recreant flight debase." It is not surprising that Sir John Harington should use it in his free, or more properly unlicensed, version of the Orlando Furioso, B. viii. st. 59. P. 297, 1. 21. And he the West, I, there goes downe his fall.] Aye, of old, was fre- quently expressed by the pronoun " I,"' creating sometimes great confusion. P. 299, 1. 7. But neuer Castle kept out destenie.] This and the foregoing line are quoted under "Destiny" in "England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 60. In spite of this token of critical approbation Drayton did not reprint it in 1603. P. 300, 1. 7. Ma,kes Steele and stones more hard then Steele and stone.J We suspect a misprint, but the meaning seems to be, " unless the hard-hearted earth, which cannot moan, convert Steele and stone into harder substances." The poet afterwards ex- punged the whole stanza, and he pursued the same course (perhaps for a different reason) with the appeal to heaven in the next stanza. P. 300. 1. 22. London which didst thys mischiefe first begin.] This address to the City was considerably shortened and varied in subsequent editions. P. 300, 1. 28. Thus turn'st the wolues amongst the harmelesse sheepe.] It is to be noted that the undated copy of this poem in the Bodleian Library has the epithet carelesse and not " harmelesse " before " sheepe.'' Which was the poet's original word it is hard to determine, especially as he omitted both afterwards. P. 302, 1. 16. Now for thy sinne what murtherer shall be shent.J To " shend" has various senses, some stronger, others less forcible: here it clearly means destroyed by punishment. P. 302, 1. 20. Poore ravish'd Lucrece stands to end her lyfe.] This not very apposite allusion is omitted in the edit. 1603 and afterwards. 368 MORTIMBRIADOS. P. 3D3, 1. 14. Thy buildings are one fier to giue thee light.] As it may be doubtful whether Drayton did not mean by " 07ie fier " to indicate a general conflagration of the City, we haue not altered the text : he may have written " on fier ;" and " one " and on were often confounded. P. 305, 1. 15, Carnaruan by his Countrie-men betrayd.] '• The fifth Booke " was made to begin here in 1603: this was The Argument. Th' imprisoned King his gouernement forsakes, And to the Peeres his weahnesse so excused; Who him ere long from Leisters keeping takes, That with much woe his soueraigne Lord refused. His torturers of him a mockery makes, And haselg and reprochjuUy abused. By secret waies to Berckley heing led. And cruelly in prison murthered. P. 305, 1. 22. A Scepters lyke a pillar of great height.] This simile in the edits, of 1 603 and 1619 is made to belong to the previous book. It is little altered. P. 30G, 1. 22. From his imprisoning chamber, cloth'd in black.J Stow speaks thus of the scene : — " At length the King coming foorth of his secrete chamber, beeing clothed in a mourning gowne, shewing himselfe to his seruants, knowing the businesse for which they came, for verie sorrow, beeing, as it were, distraught of his wittes, sodainlie swounded : The Erie of Leicester and the Bishop of Winchester did take him vp, being almost dead ; and being called to his senses, Adam de Orleton, Byshoppe of Hereforde, declaring the cause of the messengers comming, did adde that the king should make resignation of the crowne and realme to his eldest sonne ; or else, after that himselfe was refused, hee should suffer them to choose to their king another fitter man, whome they thought good for the defence of the king- dome." f Annates, p. 348. J P. 307, 1. 4. And euery sence a right Tragedian.] Perhaps we ought to read " In every sense," &c. This dramatic stanza was afterwards' excluded. P. 308, 1. 15. What God hath sayd to one is onely due.J Here, perhaps for the sake of pleasing James I. and the Court, Drayton added as follows in 1603; — " That hallowed vnction by a sacred hand, Which once was powrde on this emperious head, Which wrought th' indument of a strict command, And round about me the rich verdure spred, NOTES. 369 Either my right in greater stead must stand, Or why in vaine was it so idely shed ? Whose prophanation and vnreverent tucli lust heauen hath often punisht, alwayes much." P. 311, 1. 8. To Gurney and Matrauers he is given. J Drayton in his own person, in the edits, of 1603 and 1619, makes a curious, but serious, apology to all persons of the names of Gurney and Matravers for speaking iU of them : — " But, I entreate you, be not grieu'd witli mee, To whome the same doe worthily pertaine : Some boughs grow crooked from tlie streightest tree ; Nor shall you be partakers of their shame, The fault lies in their deede, not in your name." P. 313, 1. 1. A wreath of hay they on his temples bind. J Afterwards the author altered it to "grass;" but Stow says that it was hay — "That wicked man Gorney, making a crowne of hay, put it on his head, and the souldiours that were present scoffed, and mocked him beyond all measure." Annales, p. 350. P. 314, 1. 7. Take thy leaue, and bid the world farewell.] This line wants a syllable: in the reprint of 1603 the defect is thus amended, Now take thy leaue, and bid the world farewell." Otherwise we should have thought that the poet might have written, " Take thy last leaue, and bid the world farewell." In the edit, of 1619 the line is merely this: " From whence he bad the wicked world farwell." P. 314, 1. 27. Vnderhis roofe the buzzing night-Crow sings.] Various poets have meant various birds by the " night-crow." Shakespeare has it in Henry VI. pt. 3, A. y. sc. 6 ; and others have called it the night-raven, while old Churchyard (not taking his words ironically) seems to confound it vrith the nightingale: — " Sweete are the songs that euery night-crow sings.*' Shore's Wife. 159.3. Drayton, thinking perhaps that what he meant might not be well understood, in 1603 altered " night-crow " to screech-mule ; but still the epithet " buzzing '' does not appear very applicable to the one or to the other. John Newnam wrote a tract called " Newnam's Nightcrowe " in 1590, and Samuel Eowlands a piece called "The Night-raven" in 1618. Spenser's "night-raven'' (Shep. Cal. for June) was '' more black than pitch." 3 A 370 MOKTIMBKIADOS. P. 315, 1. 8. Oft in Ms sleepe he sees the Queene to tiye him.j This stanza, with its ahiiost ridiculous conclusion, Drayton had the good taste afterwards to expunge. P. 31G, 1. 2. Vnburied filthie carcasses they keepe.J The original has " Vnder buried filthie carcasses," &c. which mus*-. be an error. P. aiO, 1. 17. The Normans rising, and the Bryttains fall.] Possibly, the author did not find such lines very palatable to his readers, and when he re-wrote this poem in 1G03 he put it thus: — •' First of great WilliaOi, Conquerour of this He, (From whom hee's tenth th-it in succession lies) Whose power inforcde the Saxon to exile, Planting new lawes, and foraine subtilties." In 1619 Drayton introduced other emendations: — " And to that Norman, entring on this He, Cal'd William Conqueror, first his time applyes ; The Fields of Hastings how he did defile With Saxon blood, and Harold did surprize; And those which he so could not reconcile, How ouer them he long did tyrannize," &c. P. 317, 1. 2. Who from Duke Robert doth the scepter wrest. J Our poet wrote and pub- lished his " Legend of Robert Duke of Normandy" in 1596. It was reprinted in 1603. See the Introduction. F. 318, 1. 16. Who in the Oreads fix'd his Countries mears.J " Mear " is boundary. Lexicographers derive it from the Greek, but very questionably: it seems much more likely that the use of the word mere or " mear " arose out of the fact, that the boundaries of countries were usually fixed by "water. It occurs in Spenser. P. 319, 1. 27. But he who is the cause of all this teene.] " Teene " for sorrow is a very common word. Spenser sometimes spells it tine, and even uses it as a verb, in the sense of to yrieve. P. 321, 1. 15. True vertuous Lady, now of mirth I sing.] This renewed address to Lady Bedford is not found in subsequent editions of " The Barons Wars " Here, in the impression of 1603, " The Sixth Book " opens, and this is what precedes it as " The Argument. " Lord Mortimer inade Barl of March^ when he And the f aire Queene rule all thlitrfs by their mif/ht ; 2'he pomjjt ulterin at Nottingham they he ; The cost wherewith their amorous CouH is dighi, ' NOTES. 371 Enuide hy those their hatefnll pride that see. The King attempts the dreadfull caue hy night ; Entring the Castell, iaketh him from thence, And March at London dies for the offence. The Stanza substituted in 1608, for that to Lady Bedford in 1596, runs as follows: " Infore'd of other accidents to sing, (Bearing faire showes of promised delight, Somewhjit to slacke this melancholie string) That new occasions to our Muse excite. To our conceit strange obiects fashioning. Doth our free numbers liberally inuite; Matter of moment, much to be respected, Must by our pen be seriously directed. It stands thus in the fo. 1619. " Now, whilst of sundry Accidents we sing. Some of much Sadnesse, others of Delight, In our Conceit strange Obiects fashioning, "VVe our free numbers tenderly inuite Somewhat to slacke this melancholy String, For we too soone of Death come to endite; When things of moment, in the course we hold. Fall in their order fitly to be told." P. 323, 1. 4. Which that great Moouer by his strength doth shoue.J This line seems to shew that we put a right interpretation on the line in " Endimion and Phoebe " (p. 217), when we proposed to read, " Forced along by their first mouers /orce." In 1603 Drayton importantly amended the concluding couplet of this stanza: — " For right is still most absolute alone, Where power and fortune kindely meete in one.'^ He entirely altered the passage in 1619. P. 325,1. 13. This strong built Castle hurketh in her shade.] It is not easy to understand what Drayton means here by " hurketh;" supposing it a misprint for Iwketh, the difficulty is not removed. Later editions (with a triiSing change in that of 1619) have the concluding couplet of this stanza as follows : — " Courts the prowd Castell, who by turning to her Smiles to behold th' lasciuious wood-nymph wo her." 3a2 372 MOBTIMBBIADOS. P. 325, 1. 2. Whose checkerd plumes adorne his tufted crowne. J The epithet " checkerd " seems here very ill applied, and probably it was a misprint, in as much as in 1603 it is freckled: the compositor may have misheard the word, but in 1619 Drayton altered the line to " With the clouds leaning on his lottie Crowne." P. 325, 1. 4. Out of whose top the fresh springs tumbling downe.J It is " trembling downe '' in the old copy, but surely a misprint : " creeping downe " fo. 161 9. P. 326, 1. 7. My Empyres Colleage, or my fellow King. J /. e. the colleague of empire, or fellow-king to Edward III. P. 326, 1. 21. Wliose earthly spirits have not his fierie tuoh.J This stanza, under the head of " Ambition," and with the omission of " his " in the last line, is inserted in England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 6. P. 326, 1. 28. Great'st dangers then are euer near'st at hand.] This and the preceding line are quoted as an axiom in '' England's Parnassus," p. 48, under " Danger." P. 328,1. 26. Then, lyke a foule deuower of his kind.] Probably we ought to read " devowrer of his kind." P. 330, 1. 11. The sledge so shadowd still seem'd to rebound.] " Sledge " vice quoit. P. 332, 1. 6. In perrill thus we thinke our selues most sure.] This and the next line are also quoted under " Danger '' in " England's Parnassus," 1600, p. 48, but they (with another line which really belongs to him) are assigned to W. Warner. This is only one out of about a hundred false ascriptions in that miscellany : there ai'e also three gross misprints in the couplet. P. 332, 1. 16. Some Norway Haggard to her pitch doth tower.] i. e. a Norwegian wild hawk. In the last line but one of this stanza " hard " is a very common old form of heard. P. 333, 1. 2. Why, Centaure-lyke, doe you disturbe me this.] " This" and thus were sometimes confounded of old, and here the poet countenances an error, for the sake of a rhyme. The allusion is obvious. P. 335, 1. 9. And cryes reuenge, reuenge! vnto his sonne.] Drayton here may have had the old play of '' Hamlet " with its vindicta ! in his mind. A drama, of which Hamlet was the hero, was certainly in being prior to the year 1587, when it is mentioned by Thomas Nash in his Epistle to Eobert Greene's " Menaphon,'' printed in that year. See Collier's Shakespeare, vii. 189. Shakespeare's " Hamlet '' was certainly not written till many years afterwards. NOTES. 373 p. 337, 1. 8. Most mighty Empresse, daine thou to peruse.] One of Drayton's " England's Heroical Epistles " is from " Mortimer to Queene Isabel," in reply to a letter supposed by the Poet to have been sent from her to him, while in banishment after his escape from the Tower. P. 337, 1. 26. Which his proude Lyons for theyr safety wore.] Drayton afterwards found his mistake in this respect, and altered " lions " to leopards. P. 337, 1. 28. From whose sterne waves our glorious name we take. J Alluding to the Dead Sea. The poet uses very nearly the same words in his Heroical Epistle from Mortimer to Queen Isabel, " And in the dead-sea sinke our houses fame, From whose sterne waves we first deriv'd our name." His marginal note upon this couplet there is " Mortimer, so called of Mare mortuum, and in French Mort mer, in English Dead-sea," &c. P. 338, 1. 24. I cannot weepe and if my hart should brake. J "And if," in this line, is a very common corruption for " an if;'' i. e. a redupKcation of " if," both words meaning the same. It would be absurd to repeat the blunder, if it were not that we are reprinting the old copy as it has come down to us : if we modernized the spelling, it would stand " an if my heart," &c. P. 341, 1. 1. Now with a host of wofuU words assayl'd.] So the edit. 1596, and probably correctly, although in some later impressions woes is substituted for " words :'' '' wofnl woes " seems ridiculous tautology. P. 341, 1. 12. And now for vescues doth she vse her tears, j A " vescue," or fescue, was an instrument to point to the letters or lines in reading. P. 341, 1. 14. Sharpens the edge his Mothers tears rebated.] To rebate is to blunt. " Rebate " is in constant use by our old poets. P. 341, 1. 28. Whipt to his taske, with lole must Spin.] The poet seems here to have confounded lole with Omphale. P. 342, 1. 7. Amongst all men one Mortimer againe.] Drayton had used this common thought already in his " Ideas Mirrour;" see p. 151, Amour 6. " In one whole world is but one Phcenix found, A Phoenix thou, this Phoenix then alone," &c. P. 342, 1. 21. Or shyning.on the Nemian Lyons brest.J The common pronunciation of the time : Shakespeare has it twice, in " Love's Labours Lost," and in " Hamlet " P. 349, 1. 18.' Coch-carried midwyfe, weake, effeminate.] This use of " mid-wyfe,'' as denoting an effeminate man, or half-woman, is peculiar. 374 MOllTIMERIADOS. P. 349, 1. 27. Vnto that vowe shee ads a little oth.J According to Drayton's edition of 1603 it was not " a little oath " — " To which she deeply doth ingage her troth, Bound by a strong vow, and a solomne oth." In 1619 the four last lines of the stanza were these: — *' From that she to another course doth runne, To be reueng'd in some notorious kind, By stab or poyson ; and shee'le sweare to both, But for lier life she could not find an Oath." ]*. 350, 1. 8. Thus with the pangs out of this traunce areysed.] The use of this word ''areysed" (spelt araised in 1603) shews that Shakespeare was warranted iti employing it in "All's well that ends well," act 2, sc. 1, that it is needless to alter the text, and that the old corrector of the folio 1632 was only inserting a more modern form of the same word when he changed it to upraise. See " Notes and Emendations,'' p. 158. Although it is " araised" in the edit. 1603 of " The Barons Wars," Drayton himself did not like the word "araised" in 1619, and altered it to rays'd. " But from her passion being somewhat rays'd." P. 350, 1. 23. Some thing offeree to thee I must bequeath.] " Of force '' is equivalent to " of necessity :" the expression is common. P. 350, 1. 28. Make them ore-seers of my Testament.] Formerly it was the custom for testators to appoint not only executors, but over-seers, to take care that the execu- tors did their duty. We hear of no " overseers" in 1619. P. 351, 1. 7. A penitentiall mournfull convertite.J The last stanza of this poem, as it appears in the edition of 1619, is as follows: — " And henceforth, in this solitarie Place, Euer residing from the publique sight, A priuate Life I willingly imbrace, No more reioycing in the obvious Light, To consummate this too-long ling'ring space, Till Death inclose me in continual] Night ; Let neuer Sleepe more close my wearied Kyc. ■io^ Isabella, lay thee downe and dye." The following dedicatory sonnet is prefixed to the Edition of " The Barons' Wars," 8vo. 1(103 . NOTES. ' 375 " To the worihti ^nd his most honored friend Ma. Walter Astoii. " I will not striue m' niuention to inforce With needlesse words your eyes to entertaine, T' observe the formall ordinarie course, That euerie one so vulgarly doth faine : Our interchanged and deliberate choice Is with more firme and true election sorted, Then stands in censure of the common voyce, That with light humor fondly is transported : Nor take I patterne of anothers praise. Then what my pen may constantly avow, Nor walke more publique, nor obscurer waies Then vertue bids, and judgement will alow : So shall my loue and best endeuours serue you, And still shall studie still so to deserue you. Michaell Drat/ton.''' 'I'he two subsequent laudatory sonnets immediately precede the body of the work, and follow the address " to the Eeader " in the same impression. " To Ma. Michaell Drayton. " What ornament might I deuise to fit Th' aspiring height of thy admired spirit ? Or what faire Garland worthy is to sit On thy blest browes that compasse in all merit ? Thou shalt not crowned be with common Bayes, Because for thee it is a crowne too low ; Apolloes tree can yeeld thee simple prayse ; It is too dull a vesture for thy brow ; But with a wreath of starres shalt thou be crown 'd, Which when thy working temples doe susta^ne, Will, like the Spheares, be euer moouing round After the royall musick of thy braine. Thy skill doth equall Phoebus, not thy birth : He to heauen glues musick, thou to earth. Thomas Greene.''^ " To Ma. Michaell Drayton. Those painfull wits which natures depth admire, And view the causes of vnconstant strife. Doe tremble least the Vniverse expire Through lasting iarres, the enemies of life. 376 MORTIMEBIADOS. On earthly signes let not such Sages looke, Nor on the cleere aspects of hopefull starres, But learne the worlds continuance from thy booke, Which frames past Natures force eternall warres : Wherein the Muses, shewing perfect glory, Adorne it so with gracefuU harmonie, That all the acts of this lamented storie Seeme not perform'd for peoples libertie. Nor through the awe of an imperious King, But that thy verses theu- deepe wounds might sing. lohn Beumont." Of Thomas Greene and Sir John Beaumont, and of their friendship for Drayton, we have spoken in the Introduction. Out of respect to the name of the writer we subjoin the following, which, with some lines signed E. Hey ward, precede the edit, of 1619, folio. " Vpon the Barons Warres, the Epistles and Sonnets. To his worthy Friend Michaell Drayton. " I must admire thee (but to praise were vaine What eu'ry tasting palat so approues), Thy Martiall Pyrrhique, and thy Epique straine, Digesting Warres with heart-vniting Loues ; The two first Authors of what is oompos'd In this round systeme J U; it's ancient lore (All Arts in Discords and Concents are clos'd, And when vnwinged soules the Fates restore To th' earth for reparation of their flights, The first Musicians, SchoUers, Louers make ; The next ranke destinate to Mars his Knights ; The following rabble meaner titles take) I see thy Temples crown'd with Phoebus rites ; Thy Bay's to th' eye, with Lilly mixt and Rose, As to the eare a Diapason close. /. Selden. The subsequent marginal note is added with an asterisk before " Fates."—" Ac- cording to that in Plato's Phcedrus, where, vnder the names of Louers ofbeaiiti/ (which comprehends all kind of faire obiects, either in the mind or body) and of Souldiers all such as are eminent for true worth are comprehended ; the rest of men being of a farre lower ranke." P E M E S Lyrick and pastorall. I Odes, Eglogs, The man in- the Moone, By MICHAELL DRAYTON, Esqmer. AT LONDON, Printed by R. B, for N. L. and /. Flasket. 3 B To the deseruing memory of my most esteemed Patron and friend Sir Walter Aston, Knight of the ho- norable order of the Bath : As before other of my labours, so likewise I consecrate these my latest few Poemes. # # * Michaell Drayton. 3 B 2 To the Reader. Odes I haue called these the first of my fewe Poems, which, how happy soeuer they prooue, yet Criticism it selfe cannot saye that the name is wrongfully vsurped: For (not to begin with definitions, against the rule of oratory, nor ab ouo, against the prescript of Poetry in a poeticall argument, but somewhat onely to season thy pallat with a slight description) an Ode is knowne to haue been properly a song moduled to the ancient harp, and neither too short breathed, as hasting to the end, nor composed of longest verses, as unfitte for the suddaiue turnes and lofty tricks with which Apollo vsed to menage it. They are (as the learned say) diuerse; some trans- cendently lofty, and farre more high then the Epick (commonly called the Heroique Poeme) witnesse those of the Inimitable Pindarus, consecrated to the glory and renown of such as returnd in triumph from Olimpus, Elis, Isthmus, or the Hke. Others among the Greekes are amorous, soft, and made for chambers, as other for Theaters ; as were Anacreon's, the very delicacies of the Grecian Erato, which muse seemed to haue beene the mineon of that Teian oulde man which composed them : of a mixd kind were Horaces, & may truly therefore be called his mixd, whatsoeuer els are mine, little partaking of the hy dialect of the first ; Though we be all to seeke Of Pindar, that great Greek : Nor altogether of Anacreon, the arguments being amorous, morrall, or what els the muse pleaseth. To write much in this kind, neither 382 TO THE READER. know I how it will relish, nor in so doing, ca I but iniuriously presuppose ignorace or sloth in thee, or draw censure vpon my selfe for sinning against the decorum of a preface, by reading a lecture where it is inough to sum the points. New they are, and the work of playing howers, but what other commendation is theirs, & whether inheret in the subject, must be thine to iudge. But to act the go-betweene of my Poems and thy applause is neither my modesty nor confidence, that oftner then once haue acknowledged thee kind, and do not doubt hereafter to do somwhat in which I shall not feare thee iust. And would at this time also gladly let thee vnderstand what I thinke, aboue the rest, of the last Ode of the twelue, or if thou wilt. Ballad, in my Book ; for both the great master of Italian rymes, Petrarch, & our Chawcer, & other of the vper house of the muses, haue thought their Canzons honoured in the title of a Ballade, which for that I labour to meet truely therein with the ould English garb, I hope as able to iustifle as the learned Colin Clout his Boundelaye. Thus requesting thee, in thy better iudgement, to correct siich faults as haue escaped in the printing, I bid thee farewell. ODES. 38S Ode 1. To himself e and the Harp. And why not I, as hee That's greatest, if as free, (In sundry straines that striue Since there so many bee) Th' ould Lyrick kinde reuiue? I wyll; yea, and I may: Who shall oppose my waie? For what is he alone. That of himselfe can say, Hee's heire of Helicon ? Apollo and the Nyne No "man forbid their shryne, < That commeth with hands pure ; Els they be So diuyne, They will him not endure. They be such curious things, That they care not for Kings, And dare let them knowe it; Nor may he tuch their springs That is not borne a Poet. 384 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. Pyrcnicus, king of Phoeis, attempting to rauish the muses. Sam. lili. 1. cap. Orpheus, the Thra- cian Poet. Caput Hebre lyram- que excipis, A:c. Ovid, lib. 11. Metam. Mercury, inuetor of the harp, as Horace, ode 10, lib. 7, curuseq; lyras parente. The Pliocean it did proue, Whom when foule lust did moue Those maydes vnchast to make, Fell, as with them he stroue, His necke that iustly brake. That instrument nere heard, Strook by the skilfull Bard It strongly to awake, But they infernalls skard. And made Olimpus quake. As those prophetike strings. Whose sounds with fiery wings Draue feends from their abode, By him, the best of kings, That sange the holly ode. With his which woemen slue, That harpe those furyes threw Int' Hebrus did lament The bankes to weepe that drue. As downe the stream e it went. Or by the tortoys shell. To Mayas sonne it fell. The most therof not doubte ; But sure some power did dwell In him firste found it out. Thebes fayned to haue been raysed by musicke. The wildest of the field. And ajrre, with Riuers t'yeeld. That mou'd the sturdy glebes. And massy oakes coulde welde To raise the piles of Thebes. ODES. 385 And diuersly though strange, Soe aunciently wee sunge To it, that now scarce knowne If that it did belonge To Greece, or if our owne. The Druides, imbrew'd With gore, on altars rude With sacrifices crownd In hollowe woc)ds bedew'd, Haue hard the trembling sound. Though wee be all to seeke Of Pindar, that greate Greeke, To finger it arighte The soule with power to strike. His hand retayn'd such mighte. Or him proude Eoome did grace, Whose aires we all imbrace. That scarcely found his peere, Nor giueth Phebus place For strokes diuinely cleere. The Irish I admire, And cleaue vnto that lyre. As our Musicks mother, And thinke, til I expire, ApoUos such an other. As Britons, that so longe Haue held this antick songe, And let all our carpers Forbear their fame to wronge; Tha' re right skilful 1 harpers. 3c The auncient British Priests so called of their abode in woods. Pindar, prince of the Greeke lyricks, of whom Horace : Pindaril quis- quis studet, &c. Ode 2, lib. 4. Horace, first of the Romas in that kinde. The Irish harp. 386 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. Southerne, an Eng- Southerne, I long thee spare, lish lyricke. ... ,, „ Yet Wish thee weii to tare, 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 iudgements blynde. Much erryng from the righte; It is a noble kinde. Nor is't the verse doth make, That giueth, or doth take: Tis possible to clyme. To kindle, or to slake, Allthoughe in Skeltons Ryme. Ode 2. To the new yeare. Rich statue, double faced, With marble temples graced To raise thy god-head hyer. Where altars euer shining, Vnto thy preests diuining. Doe od'rous fumes expire. Great lanus, I thy pleasure. With all the Thespian treasure, Do seriously pursue; To' th passed yeare returning. As though the old adiouming, Yet bringing in the new. ODES. 387 Thy ancient vigils yearly That haue obserued cleerly, Thy feasts yet smoking be; Since all thy store abroad is, Giue some thing to my goddesse, As hath been vs'd by thee. Giue her th' Eoan brightnes, Wing'd with that subtile lightnes That doth transperce the aire ; The roses of the morning The rysing heauen adorning To meshe with flames of haire. rapture greate and holy ! Do thou transport me wholly, So well her forme to vary, That I aloft may beare her Wliereas I will inspheare her In regions high and starry. Those ceaseles 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. Wherein the best composures. Those soft and easy closures, So amorously may meet. That euery liuely ceasure May tread a perfect measure, Set on so equal feete. 3c2 388 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. 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 parallelles so euen, Drawn on the face of heauen, That curious art supposes, Direct those gems, whose cleernes Far of amaze by neerenes. Each globe such fier incloses. Her bosome, full of blisses, By nature made for kisses, So pure and wondrous cleere. Whereas a thousand graces Behold their louely faces, As they are bathing there. thou selfe little blindnes ! The kindest of vnkindnes, Yet one of those diuine ; Thy brands to me were leuer. Thy fascie and thy quiuer, And thou this quill of mine. This hart, so freshly bleeding, Vpon it owne selfe feeding. Whose wounds still dropping be. loue ! thy selfe confounding. Her coldnes so abounding, And yet such heat in mee. ODES. 389 Yet, if I be inspired, He 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 reed. Nor adamant ingraued, That hath been choicelest saued, Ideas name out weares : So large a dower as this is The greatest often misses The diadem that beares. Ode 3. May dens, why spare ye? Or whether not dare ye Correct the blind shooter ? Because wanton Venus, So oft that dost payne vs, Is her sonnes tutor ? Now, in the springe. He proueth his winge, The field is his bower ; And, as the small Bee, About flieth hee From flower to flower. And wantonly roues Abroade in the groues, And in the aire houers ; Which when it him deweth, His feathers he meweth In sighes of true louers. 390 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. And since dooni'd by fate (That well knew his hate) That he should be blinde, For very dispite Our eyes makes his white, So wayward his kinde. If his shafts loosing, (111 his mark choosing) Or his bow broken, The mone Venus maketh And care for him taketh, Canot be spoken. To Vulcan commending Hir loue, and straight sending Her doues and her sparrowes, With kisses vnto him, And all but to woe him To make her sonne arrowes. Telling what he hath donne, (Saith she, right myne owne so) In her armes she him closes. Sweets on him fans. Laid 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 ore'ioying Makes, by much coying. The child so vnto ward. ODES. 391 Yet in a fine nett, That a spider sett, The maidens had caught him : Had she not been neere him, And chanced to heare him More good they had taught him. Ode 4. To my worthy f rend, Master lohn 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, KoT constant reason leaues Opinion to pursue. To rayse his meane estate That sooths no wanton-'s sinne. Doth that preferment hate That virtue doth not winne. Nor brauery doth admire, Xor 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 neediuU ends. 392 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 draws. Whose constancy doth rise Boue vndeserued spight; Whose valew'rs to despise That most doth him delight. That early leaue doth take Of th' world, though to his paine. For vertues onely sake, And not till neede constra)me. Noe man can be so free. Though in imperiall seate. Nor Eminent as hee That deemeth nothing greate. Ode 5. Most good, most faire. Or thing as rare. To call yow's lost; For all the cost Words can bestow So poorely show ODES. 393 Vppon your praise, That all the wayes Sence hath come short : Whereby report Falls them vnder, That when wonder More hath ceased, Yet not pleased. That it in kind Nothing can finde You to expresse: Neuerthelesse, As by globes small This mighty all Is shewd, though far From life, each starre A world being; So wee seeing Yow, like as that, Onely trust what Art doth TS teach ; And when I reach At morall things, Ajid that my strings Grauely should strike, Straighte some mislike Blotteth myne Ode. As with the loade The Steele we tuch, Forc'd ne're so much. Yet still remoues To that it loues, Till there it stayes ; So to your praise 3d 394 POEMS, LTRIC AND PASTORAL. I turne euer, And though neuer From you mouiug, Happy so louing. Ode 6. Wer't granted me to choose How I would end my dayes, And I this life must loose, It should be in your praise ; For there is no Bayes Can be sett aboue you. S' mpossibly I loue you, And for you sit so hie. Whence none may remoue you, In my cleere poesie, That often I deny You so ample merit. The freedome of my spirit Mainteining (stil) my cause. Your sex not to inherit Urging the Salique lawes ; But your vertue drawes From me euery due. Thus still you me pursue, That no where I can dwell ; By feare made iuste to you, That naturally rebell. Of you, that excell. That should I still endyte, ODES. 395 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 knowc, To get out of this maze. Ode 7. This while we are abroade Shall we not touch our lyre ? Shall we not sing an Ode ? Shall that holy fire, That so strongly glow'd, In this colde aire expire? Long since the summer's laid The heauenly ballance downe ; The ripened autumne wayd, And Boreas grim doth frowne, Since now I did behold Greate Brutes first- builded towne. Now in the vtmost Peake Whereas we now remaine, Amongst the mountaines bleake, Expos'd to sleet and rayne, No sport our houres shall breake To exercise our vaine. Though bright ApoUoes beames Eefresh the southerne ground, And though the princely Theams With beauteous nymphs abound, And by ould Cambers streames As many wonders found; 3 d2 396 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. Yet many riuers cleere Here glide in siluer swathes, And wliat of all most deare, Buckstons delicious bathes, Strong ale and noble cheere T' asswage breeme winters seathes. Those grim and horrid caues, Whose lookes affright the daye, Where shee her secrets saues As loth them to bewray, Our better leasure craues, And doth inuite our laye. In places far or neare, Or famous or obscure. Where wholesome is the ayre, Or where the most impure. All tymes, and euery where. The muse is still in vre. Ode 8. Singe wee the Kose, 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 As she blusheth. When she is robd of kisses. ODES. 397 Or if strewd, 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 ritchly crownd 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. The redde or white, Or mixt, the sence delyte; Behoulding In her complexion All which perfection, Such harmony in fouldinge. That deuyded. Ere it was descided Which most pure, Began the greeuous war Of York & Lancaster, That did many yeeres indure. 398 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. 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 Is placed; Soe is shee first as best, Though excellent the rest ; All gracing, by none graced. Ode 9. The Muse should be sprightly. Yet not handling lightly Things graue ; as much loath Things that be slight to cloath Curiously : to retaine The comlinesse in meane Is true knowledge and wit. Nor me forc'd rage doth fit, That I thereto should lacke Tobacco, or the sack. Which to the colder brayne Is the true Hyppocrene- Nor did I euer care For greate fooles, nor greate fare : Vertue, though neglected, Is not so delected As vilely to descend To low basenes, their end. ODES. 399 Neither each ryming slaue Deserues the name to haue Of poet : so the rabble Of fooles for the table, That haue their iests by hart, As an actor his part. Might assume them chaires Amongst the muses heires. Parnassus is not dome By euery such mome; Vp whose steepe side who swerues It behoues haue strong nerues. My resolution such, How well, and not how much, I write: thus doe I fare Like some, few good, that care (The euill sort among) How well to Hue, and not how long. Ode 10. The ryme nor marrs nor makes, Nor addeth it, nor takes From that which we propose : Things imaginary Do so strangely vary, That quickly we them lose. And what's quickly begot As soone againe is not; This doe I truely knowe : Yea, and that borne with paine, And sence strongly retaine, Gon with a second flow. 400 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL, Yet this Critick so sterne, But whome none must discerne. Nor perfectly haue seing, Strangely layes aboute him, As nothing without him Were worthy of being. That I my selfe betray Into that publique way, Where the world's ould bawd, Custom, that doth humor, And by idle rumor. Her dotages applaud; That whilst shee still prefers Those that be wholly hers, Madnes and Ignorance, I creepe behynd the time From spertling with their crime, And glad too with my chance. wretched world, the while ! When the evill most vile Beareth the fayrest face. And inconstant lightnes, With a scornefuU sleightnes. The best things doth disgrace. Whilst this strange knowing beasts, Man of himselfe the least, His enuy declaring, That virtue must descend. Her title to defend Against him, much preparing. ODES. 401 Yet these me not delude, Nor from my place extrude By their resolued hate, Their vilenes that doe know, Which to my selfe I show. To keepe aboue my fate. Ode 11. To the Virginian Voyage. You braue Heroyque mynds, Worthy your Countries name. That honor still pursue, Goe and subdue ; Whilst loytering hyndes Lurck heere at home with shame. Britans, you stay too long; Quickly aboard bestowe you, And with a merry gale Swell your stretch'd sayle. With vowes as stronge As the winds that blow you. Your Course securely steare ; West and by south foorth keep : Eocks, Lee-shores, nor sholes. When Eolus scoulds You need not feare, Soe absolute the deepe. And cheerefuUy at sea Successe you still entise To get the pearle and gold; And ours to hould Virginia, Ear^s onely paradise. 3e 402 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. Where nature hath in store Fowle, venison and fishe ; And the fruitefull'st soyle, Without your toyle, Three haruests more, All greater then your wish. And the ambitious vine Crownes with his purple masse The Cedar, reaching hie To kisse the skye; The Oypresse, Pine, And usefull Sassafras. To whome the golden age Still natures lawes doth giue; Nor other cares attend But them to defend From winters rage. That long there doth not liue. When as the lushious smell Of that delitious land, Aboue the seas that Howes, The cleere wind throwes, Your harts to swell, Approching the deare strand. In kenning of the shore (Thanks to God first giuen) ! you the happy 'st men. Be frolike then ; Let Cannons roare. Frighting the wide heauen. ODES. 403 And in Regions farre Such Heroes bring yee foorth,. As those from whome we came; And plant our name Vnder the starre Not knowne vnto our North. And where in plenty growes Of lawrell euery where, ApoUos sacred tree ; Your dayes may see A Poet's browes To crowne, that may sing there. Thy voyages attend Industrious Hackluit ; Whose Reading shall inflame Men to seeke fame, And much commend To after times thy wit. Ode 12. To my f rinds the Camber-britcms and theyr Harp. Fayre stood the winde for France, When we our sailes advance. Nor now to proue our chance Longer not tarry, But put vnto the mayne : At Kaux, the mouth of Seine, With all his warlike trayne Landed King Harry. 3e2 404 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. And taking many a forte, Fumish'd in warlike sorte, Comming toward Agincourte (In happy houre) Skermishing day by day With those oppose his way. Whereas the Genrall laye With all his powre. Which in his height of pride, As Henry to deride, His Eansome to prouide Vnto him sending; Which he neglects the while, As from a nation vyle, Yet with an angry smile Their fall portending. And turning tt) his men. Quoth famous Henry then. Though they to one be ten. Be not amazed : Yet haue we well begun ; Battailes so brauely wonne Euermore to the Sonne By fame are raysed. And for my selfe, (quoth hee) This my full rest shall bee, England nere mourne for me, Nor more esteeme me : Victor I will remaine, Or on this earth be slaine; Neuer shall she sustaine Losse to redeeme me. ODES. 406 Poiters and Cressy tell, When moste their pride did swell, Vnder onr swords they fell : Ne lesse our skill is. Then when our grandsyre greate, Claiming the regall seate. In many a warlike feate Lop'd the French lillies. The Duke of Yorke soe dread The eager vaward led ; With the maine Henry sped Amongst his hench men. Excester had the rear, A brauer man not there. And now preparing were For the false Frenchmen, And ready to be gone. Armour on armour shone. Drum vnto drum did grone. To heare was woonder; That with the cries they make The very earth did shake : Trumpet to trumpet spake, Thunder to thunder. Well it thine age became, 0, noble Erpingham ! That didst the signall frame Vnto the forces; When from a medow by, Like a storme, sodainely The English archery Stuck the French horses. 406 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. The Spanisli vghe so strong, Arrowes a cloth-yard long, That like to serpents stoong, Piercing the wether : None from his death now starts, But playing manly parts. And like true English harts Stuck close together. When down theyr bowes they threw, And foorth theyr bilbo wes drewe. And on the French they flew. No man was tardy. Arms from the shoulders sent, Scalpes to the teeth were rent; Downe the French pesants went. These were men hardye. When now that noble King, His broade sword brandishing, Into the hoast did fling. As to or' whelme it; Who many a deep wound lent, His armes with blood besprent, And many a cruell dent Brused his helmett. Glo'ster, that Duke so good, Next of the royall blood. For famous England stood With his braue brother : Clarence in Steele most bright. That yet a maiden knighte. Yet in this furious fighte Scarce such an other. ODES. 4,07 Warwick in bloo(ie did wade, Oxford the foes inuade, And cruel slaughter made Still as they ran vp : Suffolk his axe did ply, Beaumont and Willoughby Bare them right doughtyly, Ferrers and Fanhope. On happy Cryspin day Fought was this noble fray, Which fame did not delay To England to carry. ! when shall Englishmen With such acts fill a pen, Or England breed agen Such a King Harry? \_To his Valentine. Muse, bid the morne awake; Sad winter now declines : Each bird doth choose a make, This day's Saint Valentines. For that good Bishops sake, Get vp, and let vs see What beautie it shall bee That Fortune vs assignes. But lo ! in happy hower, The place wherein she lies In yonder climbing tower, Gilt by the glitt'ring rise. 408 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL loue ! that in a shower, As once that Thund'rer did, When he in drops lay hid, That I could her surprise ! Her canopie I'll draw, With spangled plumes bedight; No mortall euer sawe So rauishing a sight ; That it the Gods might awe, A.nd powerfully transpierce The globie Vniverse, Out-shooting euery light. My lips I'le softly lay Vpon her heauenly cheeke, Dy'd like the dawning day, As polisht iuory sleeke : And in her eare I'le say, 0, thou bright morning-starre ! 'Tis I that come so farre My Valentine to seeke Each little bird this tide 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. The sparrow, swanne, the doue. Though Venus birds they bee. Yet are they not for loue So absolute as wee; ODES, 409 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, 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 lips employ'd so much, Vntill we both grow weake. With sweetnesse of thy breath, ! 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. We thus this morne may spend, Else, Muse, awake her not. The Heart. If thus we needes must goe What shall our one heart doe. That One made of our two ? 3f ddlO POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. Madam, two hearts we brake, And from them both did take The best, one heart to make. Halfe this is of your heart; Mine is the other part, loyn'd by our equal] art. Were it cymented or sowne, 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 difference that betwixt. But how shall we agree By whom it kept shall bee, Whether by you or me? It cannot two brests fill; One must heartlesse still, Vntill the other will. It came to me to 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. ODES. 411 Neuer, I thinke, had two Such work, so much to doo, A vnitie to woo. Yours was so colde and chaste, Whilst mine with zeale did waste, Like fire with water plac'd. How did my heart intreat, How pant, how did it beate, Till it could giue yours heate ! Till to that temper brought, 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 shcrw Our heart shall not once know ; For it too vile and low. The Sacrifice of Apollo. Priest of Apollo, sacred be the roome For this learn'd meeting: let no barbarous groom e, How braue soe'r he bee. Attempt to enter; But of the Muses free None here may renter : This for the Delphian Prophets is prepar'd; The prophane vulgar are from hence debar'd. 3f2 412 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. And since the feast so happily begins, Call vp those faire Nine, with their violins : They are begot by loue ; 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 ouerflowe 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 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 swoln Bacchus, crowned with a vine, Is grauen; and fill out. It well bestowing To euery man about In goblets flowing: Let not a man drink but in draughts profoimd : To our god Phoebus 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. ODES, 413 Or if the deeds of Heroes ye rehearse, Let them be sung in so well ord'red verse That each word haue its weight, Yet runne with pleasure, Holding one stately height In so braue measure, That they may make the stiffest storme seeme weake, And damp loues thunder, when it lowd'st doth speake. And if ye list to exercise your vayne. Or in the socke, or in the buskin'd strayne, Let Art and Nature go 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 theatre doe shake. Sing hymnes to Bacchus, then, with hands vprear'd; Offer to loue, who most is to be fear'd : From him the Muse we haue, From him proceedeth 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 his Rmall. 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. 414 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. The ship full fraught With gold farre sought, Though ne're so wisely helmed, May suffer wracke In sailing backe, By tempest euer-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; 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. 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. ODES. 415 She hath no smile That can beguile, But as my thought I know it ; Yea, to a hajrre, 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 I'le not mourne. But stay my turne : The winde may come about, sir, And once againe May bring me in. And helpe to beare you out, sir. 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 past this way. yes ! yes ! yes ! If there be any man, In towne or countrey, can Bring me my heart againe, I'le please him for his paine : And by these marks I will you show, That onely I this heart doe owe. 416 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAX. It is a wounded heart, Wherein yet sticks the dart ; Euerie 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, If you my heart doe see. Either impound it for a stray. Or send it backe to me. To Ms coy Loue. A canzonet. I pray thee leaue ; loue me no more, Call home the hart 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. Show me no more those snowie brests. With azure riverets branched. Where, whilst mine eye with plentie feasts. Yet is my thirst not stanched. Tantalus ! thy paines ne'r tell ; By mee thou art preuented : 'Tis nothing to be plagu'd m Hell, But thus in Heauen tormented. ODES. Clip me no more in those deare armes, Nor thy life's comfort call me : ! these are but too powerfull oharmes, And doe but more inthrall me. But see how patient I am growne In all this coyle about thee : Come, nice thing, let thy heart alone, I cannot Hue without thee. 417 A Symne To his Lady's birth-place. Coventry, that do'st adorne The countrey wherein I was borne, Yet therein lyes not thy praise Why I should crowne thy towers with bayes. Tis not thy wall me to thee weds. Thy ports, nor thy proud pyrameds, Nor thy trophies of the bore, But that shee which I adore. Which scarce goodnesse selfe can payre. First there breathing blest the ayre. Idea, in which name I hide Her in my heart deifi'd ; For what good mans mind can see Onely her Ideas be : She, in whom the Vertues came In womans shape, and tooke her name; She, so f'arre past imitation, As but Nature our creation Could not alter, she had aymed More then woman to haue framed; 3 G Couentry finely walled. The shoulder-bone of a bore of mighty big- nesse. 418 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTOBAL. Two famous pilgrim- ages, the one in Nor- folk, the other in Kent. Godiua, duke Leo- frick's wife, who ob- tained the freedome of the City, of her hus- band, by riding thorow it naked. Queene Elizabeth. A noted streete in Couentry. His mistresse birth- She, whose truely written story To thy poore name shall adde more glory, Than if it should haue beene thy chance T'haue bred our Kings that conquer'd France. Had she beene borne in former age, That house had beene a pilgrimage. And reputed more diuine, Then Walsingham or Becket's Shrine. That Princesse, to whom thou do'st owe Thy freedome, whose cleere blushing snow The enuious Sunne saw, when as she Naked rode to make thee free, Was but her type, as to foretell Thou should'st bring forth one should excell Her bounty, by whom thou should'st haue More honour then she freedome gaue ; And that groat Queene, which but of late Eul'd this land in peace and state, Had not beene, but heauen had sworne A maide should raigne when she was borne. Of thy streets, which thou hold'st best, And most frequent of the rest, Happy Mich-parke, eu'ry yeere On the fourth of August there 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 saye. There was that lady borne, which long- To after-ages shall be sung: Who, unawares being passed by,' Back to that house shall cast his eye, ODES. 419 Speaking my Verses as he goes, And witli a sigh shut eu'iy close. Deare Citie, trauelling by thee, When thy rising Spyres I see, Destined her place of birth, Yet me thinkes the very earth 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, Wliich some lester forth did bring, Speake these lines where thou do'st come, And strike the slaue for euer dumbe.J FINIS. ;^rx2 EGLOG. Late 'twas in June, the fleece wh5 fully grown In the full compasse of the passed year, The season wel by skilful shepheards known, That them prouide immediatly to sheare. Their lambs, late wax'd so lusty and so strong. That time did them their mothers teats forbid, And in the fields, the common flocks among, Eat of the same grass that the greater did. Now not a shepheard, anything that could. But greazd his startups black as Autums sloe ; And for the better credit of the Would, In their fresh russets euery one doth go. Who now a posie pins not in his cap, And not a garland baldrick wise dooth weare ? Some of such flowers as to his hand dooth hap, Others such as a secret meaninar beare. He from his lasse him Lauander hath sent, Shewing her loue, and doth requitall craue; Him Rosemary his sweethart, whose intent Is that he her should in remembrance haue. Roses his youth and strong desire express; Her Sage doth shew his souerainty in all; The luly-flower declares his gentlencs; Tyme trueth ; the Pansic Hartseas maydens call. EGLOGS. 421 In cotes such simples, simply in request, Wherwith proude courts in greatnes scorn to rael, For countrey toyes become the cuntry best. And please poore shepheards, and becom them wel. When the new washd flock from the rivers side Comming as white as lanuaries snow. The Earn with nosegayes beares his horns in pride, And no lesse braue the Belwether doth go. After their fayr flocks in a lusty rowte Came the gay swaynes with bagpipes strongly blown, And busied though this solemn sport about, Yet had cache one an eye vnto his own. And by the auncient statutes of the field. He that his flocks the earliest lamb could bring, (As it fell out now Rowlands charge to yeeld) Alwayes for that yeare was the shepheards king. And soon preparing for the shepheards board Vpon a green that curiously was squard. With country cates that plentifully stoard. And gainst their comming hansomly prepard. New whig, with water from the clerest strearae. Green plums and wildings, cheries chief of feast, Fresh cheese & dowsets, curds and clowted cream, Spice syllibubs and syder of the best. And to the same downe solemnly they sit In the fresh shadow of their summer bowers. With sondry sweets which euery way to fit, Which neighboring vale not spoiled of her flowrs. 422 POEMS, LYEIC AND PASTORAL. And whilst together mery thus they make, The Sunne to West a little gan to leane, Wliich the late feruor soon agayn did slake, When as the nymphs came foorth ^pon the plain. Here might you many a shepherdesse haue seene, Of which no place as Cotswold such doth yeeld : Some of it natiue, some for loue, I ween, Thether were come from many a fertill field. There was the widow's daughter of the glen. Dear Eosalynd, that scarsely brook'd compare, The Moreland mayden, so admyr'd of men, Bright Gouldy-locks, and Phillida the fayre. Lettice and Parnell, prety louely peats, Cusse of the Fould, the Virgine of the well, Fair Anbrie with the alablaster teats. And more whose names were here too long to tell. Which now came forward, following their sheep, Their batning flocks on grassy leaes to houlde. Thereby from scathe and perill them to keepe. Till evening come that it were time to foulde. When now at last, as lik'd the shepheards King, (At whose commaund they all obedient were) Was poynted who the Koundelay shoold singe, And who againe the vndersong should beare. The first whereof he Batte doth bequeath, A wittier wag on all the wold's not found ; Gorbo the man that him should sing beneath. Which his lowd bagpipe skilfully should sound. E&LOGS. 423 When, amongst all the nymphs that wear in sight, His best beloued Daffadill he mis'd. Which to inquire of, doing all his might, Whome his companyon kindly doth assist. Batte. Gorbo, as thou cam'st this waye By yonder little hill. Or as thou through the fields didst straye, Sawst thou my DaiFadill? 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 loner's bowers, The Pansy, and the Marigold, Tho Phcebus paramours. Gorbo. Thou well describs't 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 from her didst bring ; And yet my DafFadil more sweete Then that by yonder spring. Gorbo. I saw a shepheard, that doth keepe In yonder field of lillies, Was making (as he fed his sheepe) A wreathe of Daffadillies. 424 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTOllAL. Batte. Yet, Gorbo, tliou delud'st me stil : My flower thou didst not see, For know, my pretie Dafladill Is worne of none but me. To shew itselfe but neare her seate No lilly is so bould, Except to shade her from the heate. Or keepe her from the cold. 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 she went along. The prety flowers did greet, As though their heads they downward bent With homage to her feete. And all the shepheards that were nie. From toppe of euery hill Vnto the vallies lowe did crie, There goes sweete Daffadill. Batte. I, gentle shepheard, now with ioy Thou all my flockes dost fill ; That's she alone, kind shepheards boy : Let vs to Dafladill. The easie turnes and queyntnes of the song. And slight occasion wherevpon 'twas raysed. Not one this iolly company among (As most could well iudge) hiely that not praysed. EGLOa. When Motto next, with Perkin, pay their debt, The Moreland maiden, Syluia, that espied, From th' other nymphes a little that was set, In a neer vally by a riuers side. Whose souerain flowers her sweetnes wel expresd, And honored sight a little not them mooued: To whom their song they reverently addresd, Both as her louing, both of her beloued. Motto. Tell me, thou skilfull shepheards swayne, Who's yonder in the vally set? Perkin. ! 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. 425 Motto. Perkin. Why do thy flocks forbeare their foode. Which sometyme was their chiefe delight? Because they neede no other good. That Hue in presence of her sight. Motto. Perkin. How com these flowers to florish still, Not withering with sharpe winters breath? 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 Koe that were ? Perkin. ! muse not, shepheard, that they stay, When they her heauenly voice do heare. 3h 426 POEMS, LTEIC AND PASTOBAL- Motto. From whence come all these goodly swayns, And louely nimphs attir'd in greene ? PerMn. From gathering garlands on the playnes, To crown thy Syluia 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. Lastly, it came vnto the clownish king, Who to conclude this shepheards yearely feast, Bound as the rest his Eoundelay to sing. And all the other him were to assist. When she (whome then they little did expect. The dearest nimphe that euer kept in field) Idea, did her sober pace direct Towards them, with ioy that euery one beheld. And whereas other draue their carefull keepe. Hers did her follow duly at her will, For through her patience she had learnt her sheep, Where ere she went, to wait vpon her still. A. milk white Done vpon her hand she brought. So tame, t'would go, returning to her call. About whose neck, as in a choller wrought, " Only like me my mistris hath no gaule." To whom her swaine (vnworthy though he were) Thus vnto her his Roundelay applies. To whom the rest the vnder part did beare, Casting upon her their still-longing eyes. * EGLOG. Rowland. Of her pure eyes (that now is seen) Chorus. Help vs to sing, that be her faithful swains. Rowland. ! she alone the shepheards Queen, Chorus, Her flocke that leads. The goddesse of these medes, These mountaines and these plaines. Rowland. Those eyes of hers that are more cleere, Chorus. Then silly shepheards can in song expresse; Rowland. Then be his beams that rules the yeare. Chorus. Fy on that prayse ! In striuing things to rayse. That doth but make them lesse. Rowland. That doe the flowery spring prolong, Chorus. So much the earth doth in her presence ioy; Rowland. And keeps the plenteous summer young : Chorus. And doth asswage The wrathfull winters rage, That would our flocks destroy. Rowland. loue saw her brest that naked lay. Chorus. A sight alone was fit for Joue to see : Rowland. And swore it was the milkie way. Chorus. Of all most pure. The path (we vs assure) Vnto loues court to be. m Rowland. He saw her tresses hanging downe, Chorus. That too and fro were naooued with the ayre ; Rowland. And sayd that Ariadnes crowne. Chorus. With those compar'd, The gods should not regard, Xor Berenices hayrc. 3 h2 428 POEMS LTEIC AND PASTOKAL. Rowland. When she hath watch'd my flockes by night, Chorus. 0, happy were the flocks that she did keepe ! Rowland. They neuer needed Cynthia's Hght : Chorus. That spone gaue place, Amazed with her grace That did attend thy sheepe. Rowland. Aboue where heauens hie glorius are. Chorus. When as she shall be placed in the skies, Rowland. She shall be calld the shepheards starre : Chorus. And euermore We sheapheards will adore Her setting and her rise. FINIS. NOTES TO POEMES LYEICK AND PASTORALL. p. 379, 1. 3. Sir Walter Aston, Knight of the honorable order of the Bath.J Sir Walter Aston was made a Knight of the Bath, with fifty-nine others, on the Coro- nation of James I. : Drayton was one of his esquires at his investiture. See the Introduction. When Drayton republished these Odes (with others) in 1619, fo., he addressed them " To the worthy Knight, and my noble Friend, Sir Henry Goodere, a Gentleman of his Maiesties Priuie Chamber," in four introductory stanzas. P. 381, 1. 2. Odes I haue called these first of my fewe Poems.] The application of the word " Ode " at this date was nearly new in our language. S. Daniel only followed precedent in two brief lyrical poems at the end of his " Delia, Con- tayning certayne Sonnets,'' in both the editions of 1592. That the two impressions were distinct editions the variations testify, one occurring in each of these " odes.'' According to Drayton's definition, Daniel's '' odes " would be too " short- breathed ;" and we shall see presently, that a poet of the name of Southerne, (or Soowthern, as he himself speUs his name,) was perhaps the earliest writer of Odes (so called) in our language : nevertheless the specimens Southerne has left behind him afford no proofs either of art or excellence. Of him and his works we have spoken farther, in a note to p. 386. P. 381, 1. 22. Though we be all to seeke.J This couplet is from Drayton's first Ode; see p. 385. He seems to have been fond of it. P. 382, 1. 16. As the learned Colin Clout his Eoundelaye.J Another of the many allusions to Spenser, under his poetical name of Colin Clout. P. 382, 1. 18. To correct such faults as haue escaped in the printing.] Some reasons for doubting whether this small volume was ever published, although printed, are assigned in the Introduction. P. 383, 1. 18. They be such curious things. J Drayton did not like this epithet in 1619, and altered the line to " For tliey be such coy things." 430 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. It is impossible to note separately all the minor variations in our poet's text, but we have adverted to such as at all materially affect the sense. P. 384, 1. 13. Int' Hebrus did lament.] The three first lines are thus given in 1619: — " So his, which women slue, And it int' Hebrus threw, Such sounds yet forth it sent." P. 386, 1. 1. Southerne, I long thee spare.] There is little doubt, as Steevens contended, that Soowthern was a Frenchman, and probably a performer on the harp, which recommended him to Drayton: the arrogant motto of his only extant work (Steevens had only seen a copy without title-page, consequently without the niotto) alludes to the author's expatriation — Non careo patria, me caret ilia magis. The production to which it belongs is of the greatest possible rarity, but one exemplar with a title-page being known: we transcribe it literatim: — " Pandora. The Musyque of the beautie of his mistress Diana. Composed by lohn Soowthern, Gentleman, and dedicated to the right Honorable Edward Deuer, Earle of Oxenford, &c. 1584. June 20. Non careo patria, me caret ilia magis. — Imprinted at London for Thomas Hackette, and are to be solde at his shoppe in Lumbert streete, vnder the Popes head. 1584." 4to. The whole is wretched trash, which it is so impossible that Drayton should ever have tolerated, tha^. we must conclude that, in this stanza of his Ode, he merely alluded to Soowthern's skill as a harp-player, and not as a poet. Every line and word that is endurable was stolen, without the slightest acknowledgment, from Eonsard and other French poets, and so Puttenham in his " Arte of English Poesie " 1586 plainly told Soowthern. We will enable the reader in some degree to judge for himself by quoting the " Sonnet " which introduces " Pandora." It possesses neither sense nor metre, and has various foreignisms. " Sonnet tn the Reader, " Thou iind'st not heere neither the furious alarmes Of the pride of Spaine, or subtilnes of Prance ; Nor of the rude English, or mutine Almanes : Nor neither of Naples noble men of armes. No, an infant, and that yet surmounteth Knights, Hath both vanquished me, and also my Muse : And were it not, this is a lawful! excuse. NOTES. 431 If thou hearst not the report of their great fights, Thou shalt see no death of any valliant soldier. And yet I sing the beauty of a fierce warrier ; And amore alone I must strike on my Leer, And but Eroto I knowe no other Muse. And harke all you that are lyke vs amorous ; And you that are not, goe read some other where." After this, no other specimen can be wished for. Edward de Vere, to whom this collection of odes, elegies, sonnets, epitaphs, &c., was dedicated, was himself no contemptible poet, and probably Soowthern taught the harp in his family, and thus presumed upon his patronage. How to account for Drayton's applause of Soowthern, unless as a mere harpist, we cannot understand. P. 386, 1. 15. AUthoughe in Skelton's Eyme.J John Skelton, as is now well known, was a poet of great popularity in the reign of Henry VHI. : he gave the name to a species of versification consisting of a reduplication of many short humorous or satirical lines, ending frequently with the same rhyme. We shall see presently, that Dray- ton wrote apiece, which he calls " a Skeltoniad," but which only resembles the style of Skelton in the brevity of the lines, and not in the repetition of the same sounds. In fact, Drayton appears not to have been well acquainted with Skelton's cha- racteristics. In 1843 the Eev. A. Dyce published an edition of Skelton's works in 2 vols 8vo. Appendix III., in that production, consists of pieces written in Skelton's manner, but Drayton's " Skeltoniad " is not in Skelton's manner. Mr. Dyce dates Skelton's birth about the year 1460, and fixes his death in 1529. See his " Account of Skelton, and his Writings," pp. v. xlv. Drayton speaks more dis- paragingly of Skelton than he deserves, and evidently knew little or nothing about him; but in a marginal note opposite the Hue " Although in Skelton's ryme," in the edit. fo. 1619, he informs the reader that Skelton was "an old English Eymer:" it is not found in the first impression of these '' Odes," &c. P. 387, 1. 2. They haue obserued cleerly.J In the edit. 1619 the line is, " I haue obserued cleerely ;'' which is probably right : it is difiicult to make sense out of the older reading. P. 387, 1. 11. The rysing heauen adorning.] It is remarkable that the only extant perfect copy of this edition of Drayton's " Poemes Lyrick and Pastorall " has the leaves with the signatures B 3 and B 4 repeated, yet clearly from a different im- pression, since the spelling of particular words is varied: thus, in the line to which this note applies, on one leaf(B 3), " rysing " is spelled with a y, and on the other 432 with an i. The same observation applies to other words and lines, but the sense of no passage is varied. In the last line of this page, on one leaf " equal " is spelled as we have given it, and on the other equall ; while the stanza in one case ends with a comma, and in the other with a full stop. P. 388. 1. 2. The loner crowning Mirtle.] So one leaf (sign. B 3 b): on the other leaf " louer-crowning " is made a compound word hj means of a hyphen. P. 388, 1. 20. The kindest of vnkindnes.] So both leaves of the earliest edition: in 1619 the line is " The klndnesse of vnkindnesse," while in the previous line " selfe " and " little " are united by a hyphen. This stanza seems rather addressed to Cupid than to the New Year. P. 389, 1. 12. The diadem that beares.J So one leaf (sign. B 4): the other leaf for " beares '' has weares, which is objectionable, inasmuch as the line to which it rhymes ends with '' outweares." Possibly this was the reason why the leaves were re- printed, the poet being unwilling to let anything remain defective, or imperfect, that related to his often-lauded Idea. P. 389, 1. 14. Maydens, why spare ye?] In the edition of 1619, fc, this Ode is headed " To Cupid," but it has no title in the original impression. P. 389, 1. 16. Correct the blind shooter. J So one leaf (sign. B 4 b); while on the other it stands shuter. There are other variations of orthography in this stanza, but they are not worth noting. P. 390, 1. 4. For very dispite.] This is the reading of one leaf, and doubtless it is right, since we find it in the edition of 1619; but the other leaf gives us "-For euery despite.'' The next line refers to the "white," meaning the point at which archers directed their arrows : no phrase is more common than " to hit the white," a. figure derived from archery. P. 390, 1. 29. Makes, by much coying. ] i. e. by much caressing. P. 391, 1. 8. To my worthy frend, Master John Sauage.] This noble Ode, for some un- explained reason, the author never reprinted. Perhaps the person to whom it was addressed was dead before 1619, or it was thought to have been penned in too free a spirit for the reign of James I. P. 392, 1. 22. Most good, most faire.] This Ode is erroneously numbered " 2 " in the earliest copy, where it ought to be 5; and so it is numbered at the top of the next page. In the impression of 1619 it is entitled "An Amouret Ana- . creontick." NOTES. 433 p. 393, 1. 28. As with the loade.] i. e. with the load-stone. P. 394, 1. 6. Wer't granted me to choose. J This piece is headed "Love's Conquest" in the edit. 1619. P. 394, 1. 12. S'mpossibly I loue you. J So printed in the earliest impression, 8vo. n. d.: in 1619 it stands properly " S'impossibly " &c. Such an elision, where two consonants are to be sounded without a vowel, is, as far as I recoEect, unprecedented. P. 395, 1. 8. This while we are abroade.J Entitled, in the later impression of 1619, " An Ode written in the Peake." P. 395, 1. 12. That so strongly glow'd.] In 1619 the line ran "In vs that strongly glow'd." In the next stanza in the same edition we read " The Autumne halfe is way'd, And Boreas 'gins to frowne. '' « P. 395, 1. 19. Great Brutes first-builded towne.J This line seems to allude to Dray- ton's earliest visit to London, which was the first town reputed to have been built by Brutus, after his arrival in our island. P. 396, 1. 6. T' asswage breeme winters scathes.J Spenser, in his Shepherd's Calendar for December, applies the same epithet to winter : — " Let me, ah, let me in your folds ye lock Ere the breme winter breed you greater grief." " Breme,'' or " breeme " means sharp, severe, and sometimes fierce and savage. " Breme as a boar " is a very common expression, misprinted in some of our glossaries " breme as a Sare." P. 896, 1. 18. The muse is still in ure.J i. e. in use, or employment; the meaning being, that in every place, and at all times, there is business for the muse. P. 396, 1. 20. Singe wee the Eose.J Drayton did not afterwards reprint this spirited Ode ; so that his two best productions of the kind would have been lost, but for the imj)ression we have used, 8vo. n. d. P. 397, 1. 10. Of that delitious layre.J We have before had " layre " or " laire " (as it is there spelled) in the sense of complexion or skin. See note to p. 14 on p. 54. Drayton's brevity has rendered him here scarcely intelligible. P. 398, 1. 14. The muse should be sprightly.] This production its author afterwards, with little appropriateness, called " A Skeltoniad." Several other pieces by Drayton are much more like Skelton than this bold, vigorous, and independent essay. The 3i 434 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. essence of a Skeltoniad is the unlimited reduplication of the same rhymes, in short Unes, with only a secondary regard to the meaning. P. 399, 1. 20. The Ryme nor marrs nor makes.] In 1619 Drayton called this " His De- fence against the idle Critick:" who this "idle critic " may have been, we have no information, and the poet seems to have been in the same predicament. P. .399, 1. 22. From that which we propose.] An obvious instance of the printer having mistaken m for w: it stands, " From that which me propose " in the earliest im- pression of these odes, but the error was set right in 1619. P. 401, 1. 9. You braue Heroyque mynds.] At this period, very shortly after James I. came to the throne, the settlement in Virginia was occupying much of the public attention, and this Ode was evidently written to encourage the enterprise. P. 402, 1. 13. To whome the golden age.J In the edit. fo. 1619 the line is " To whose the golden age," and afterwards " No other cares that tend," and " from winter's age," which is, no doubt, wrong. P. 402, 1. 25. In kenning of the shore.] To ken the shore is technical for coming in sight of land, P. 403, 1. 14. Industrious Hackluit.] This stanza is of more interest than is at first apparent, since it shews, in opposition to what is said by the biographers of Kichard Hakluyt, that he accompanied, about this date (1603 or 1604), an expedition to Virginia : "it does not appear (says the author of the most recent account of Hakluyt) that he was ever tempted to quit his native country, with the exception of his sojourn in France.'' Here we have Drayton's authority for saying that Hakluyt '' attended" the adventurers to Virginia; and it was probably after his return, that he became one of the patentees of the London Virginia Company, who obtained a charter dated 10th April, 1606. No biographer of Hakluyt has ever noticed that his name is recorded in Drayton's Ode, and, least of all, that he undertook personal, as well as pecuniary, risk in the voyage to America. In Archffiologia, vol. xxxviii. are printed, for the first time, two long original letters to Sir Francis Walsingham from Hakluyt, while resident in Paris in April 1584, and January 1584-5. The contents are of great interest. The Earl of Ellesmere possesses a copy of that rare volume, Hakluyt's " Divers Voyages touching the Discoverie of America," with both the maps. There is another, but an imperfect, copy in a library near Uxbridge. P. 403, 1. 21. Fayre stood the winde for France.] This is the Ode of which the author NOTES. 435 speaks in his address " to the Eeader," where he permits him to call it " a ballad " if he will. It is a very spirited production on the battle of Agincourt, and in the oldest copy it is headed as we have given it : why the author afterwards left out the words " my friends," is not stated; but he distinctly called it in 1619 a " ballad of Agincourt." The variations in the wording of this piece are more numerous than material, but we have noticed the principal changes. Of Drayton's separate heroic poem, called " The Battle of Agincourt,' pubUshed in 1627, we have spoken in the Introduction : he was probably incited to undertake it by the popularity of this ballad. P. 404, 1. 7. Whereas the Generall laye.] " "Where the French Generall lay," edit. 1619. P. 405, 1. 10. The eager vaward led.] The "vaward" is the vanward, vanguard, or avant-gard. So Shakespeare, Henry V., Act iv. sc. 3 : the Duke of York hastily entering says, " My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg The leading of the vaward." P. 405, 1. 15. And now preparing were.] In 1619 this and the next line are thus given : " Lord ! how hot they were On the false French-men." P. 405, I. 27. That didst the signal frame.] The reading of the folio 1619 is " Which didst the signal ayme To our hid forces." Neither " frame" nor ayme were the best words that could have been chosen, ex- cepting for the sake of the rhyme. P. 406, 1. 1. The Spanish vghe so strong.] It is not easy to recognise yew under this uncouth form. Spanish yew was famous for making good bows. In 1619 it was spelled ewgh. P. 406, 1. 10, And foorth theyr bilbowes drew.] Our best swords, as well as our best bows, came from Spain. In Drayton's rifacimento of Mortimeriados, B. i., st. 3, we have this line : " ;With blades of Bilbo dealing EngUsh blowes." A bilbo, in the time of our poet, was the commonest name for a sword. P. 406, 1. 19. Into the hoast did fling.] Afterwards Drayton wrote, " Downe the French hoast did ding." P. 407 1. 17. To his Valentine.] The poems within brackets, from this page to page '419,werefirstgivenin the impression of 1619,fo. but someof them were evidently 3i2 t36 POEMS, LYRIC AND PASTORAL. composed at an early period, and they are here added for the sake of completeness. They include all that Drayton published in 1619 under the title of " Odes, with other Lyrick Poesies." P. 4:08, 1. 22. Doth chuse her loued pheere.] i. e. her loved companion. Sometimes spelled /ere. See note on p. 54. P. 417, 1. 20. First there breathing blest the ayre.J In the old copy " there " is misprinted their. P. 418, 1. 17. And that great Queene, which but of late.J Hence we may conclude that this poem was not written long after 1603. P. 419, 1. 14. And strike the slaue for ever dumbe.J Here end the poems, which, in order that the whole of the pieces of the same class and character may be seen together, we have copied from the folio 1619. P. 420, 1. 2. Late 'twas in June, the fleece whe fully grown.] When Drayton originally printed his Eclogues, under the title of " Idea. The Shepheards Garland," in 1593, they were, as our readers are aware, only nine in number : when he re- printed them (soon after James I. came to the throne) he made them ten, by adding a pastoral numbered 9 : he also materially altered many of those Tjrhich had been published in 1593, as our notes have already sufficiently explained; but " the ninth Eglog " appeared there for the first time, and we have inserted it in order to render the collection entire. The differences between this production, as it was first published in 8vo. about the year 1604, and as it afterwards appeared in the folio 1619, are merely verbal, and extremely trifling. We have, as usual, strictly followed the older copy. P. 420, 1. 10. But greazd his startups black as Autums sloe.J Startups were what are now commonly called high-lows in the country — heavy lacing boots, reaching to the calf of the leg, and from their pressure very injurious to the proper formation of the limb. In his eighth Eclogue (p. 116) Drayton calls them " cockejs," and so they are termed by Bishop Hall in his Satires (lib. iv. sat. 6.) " And his patcht cookers now despised beene." The more common name was " startups," and Tarlton, as a theatrical clown, is represented to have worn them. F. Thynne, in his " Debate between Pride and Lowlines," (from which Robert Greene borrowed his " Quip for an Upstart Courtier," 1592) says of the husbandman " A payre of startuppes had he on his feete, That laoed were vp to the small of the legge;" but he ought rather to have said, up to the calf of the leg. NOTES. 437 p. 421, 1. 2. Wherewith proude courts in greatnes scorn to melL] i. e. to meddle. P. 421, \. -27. With sondry sweets which euery way to fit.] Here we meet with one of the verbal alterations made by the poet in 1619, " With sundrie sweets them euery way to fit." This is for the better, but the variation does not alter the sense. P. 422, 1. 6. Of which no place as Cotswold such doth yeeld.] One of Drayton's latest poems, if not his very latest, was upon the Cotswold games, in the collection called Annalia Dubrensia, 1636. 4to. P. 422, 1. 10. Deare Eosalynd, that scarcely brook'd compare J The object of Spenser's poetical and pastoral admiration. Spenser himself supplied Drayton with the first line: — " But now from me his madding mind is start, And woes the widdowes daughter of the glenne ; So now faire Rosalinde hath bred his smart." Shep. Cal. for April. P. 423, 1. 2. His best beloued DafFadill he mis'd.] In 1619 the poet's meaning was rendered clearer in the following couplet : " Who amongst all the nymphs that were in sight, Batte his daintie Daffadill there mist." P. 424, 1. 21. I, gentle shepheard, now with ioy.J This quatrain clearly belongs to Batte, but " Gorbo " has been erroneously placed opposite to it in the earliest edition, and, singularly enough, the blund(^r was retained in the foUo 1619. Here " I" is not the pronoun, but the affirmative adverb Aye. P. 426, 1. 15. Idea, did her sober pace direct.] Drayton had celebrated the lady by this name in 1593 ; and, as far as his own declaration goes, he was faithful to his first attachment more than ten years afterwards. P. 426, 1. 24. " Only like me my mistris hath no gaule."] This (which we have put in quotation) was, of course, the motto on the collar of the dove. IDEA. MICHAEL BRAYTON. 'I'he worlds faire Rose, and Henries frosty fire, John's tirannie, and chast Matilda's wrong; Th' inraged Queene, and furious Mortimer, The scourge of Fraunce and his chast loue I song. Deposed Ei chard, Isabel! exil'd, The gallant Tudor, and fayre Katherine; Duke Humfrey, and old Cobham's haplesse child, Couragious Pole, and that braue spiritfuU Queene; Edward, and that delicious London Dame, Brandon, and that rich dowager of Fraunce ; Surrey, with his fayre paragon of fame, Dudley's mishap, and vertuous Graye's mischaunce: Their seuerall loues since I before haue showne, Now giue me leaue, at last, to sing mine owne. SONNETS UNDER THE TITLE OF IDEA. 441 To the Reader of Ms poems. Into these loues who but for passion lookes, At this first sight, here let them lay them by, And sceke 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 choise 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. The second to the Reader. Many there be excelling in this kind. Whose well trick'd rimes with all inuention swel : Let each commend as best shall like his minde, Some Sidney, Constable, some Daniell. That thus theyr names familiarly I sing. Let none thinke 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, iocund, and irregular. Like me that lust, my honest mery rimes Nor care for Criticke, nor regard the times, 3k 442 SONNETS IJNDEB, THE Idea. Sonnet. 1. Like an aduenturous sea-farer am I, Who hath some long and dang'rous voyage beene, And calld to tell of his discouery, How farre he sayld, 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, where with foule weather spent, And on what rockes in perill to be cast. Thus in my loue Time calls me to relate My tedious travells and oft-varying fate. Sonnet 2. My 'hart was slaine, and none but you and I: Who should I thinke the murther should comit? Since, but your selfe, there was no creature by. But onely I, guiltlesse of murthring it. It slew itselfe : the verdict on the view Doe quit the dead, and me not accessary. Well, well, I feare it will be prou'd by you, The euidence so great a proofe doth carry. But 0, see, see! we neede enquire no further; Vpon your lips the scarlet drops are found, And in your eye the boy that did the murther, Your cheeks 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. TITLE OP IDEA. 443 Sonnet 3. Bright starre of beauty, on whose eye-lids sit A thousand nymph-like and enamoured graces, The goddesses of memory and witte, Which there in order take their seuerall places ; In whose deare bosome sweete delicious Loue Layes downe his quiuer, that he once did beare, Since he that blessed Paradise did proue, Forsooke his mothers lap to sport him there. Let others striue to entertaine with wordes, My soule is of another temper made : I holde 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. Sonnet 4. Nothing but no and I, and I and no ? How falls it out so strangely you reply? I tell ye (Faire) ile not be aunswered so, With this affirming no, denying I. I say I loue, you slender 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 tvith I and you be so; Then aunswer no and I, and I and no. 3k2 444 SONNETS UNDER THE To Sarmonie. Sonnet 5. Loue once would daunce within my Mistres eyo, And wanting musiquc 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 straines, My trembling sinewes serue the counterchime, My hollow sighs the deepest base doe beare, True diapason 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 he, proud slaue, daunc'd galliards in her eye. Sonnet 6. How many paltry, foolish, painted things That now in coaches trouble eu'ry streete, Shall be forgotten, whom no poet sings, Ere they be well wrappd in their winding sheete ; Where I to thee eternitie shall give. When nothing else remaineth of these dayes. And Queenes hereafter shall be glad to liue Vpon the almes of thy superfluous praise. Virgins and matrons, reading these my rymes. Shall be so much delighted with thy story. That they shall grieue they liu'd not in these times To haue scene thee, their sex's onely glory: So shalt thou flie aboue the vulgar throng, Still to suruiue in my immortall song. TITLE OP IDEA. 445 Sonnet 7. Loue in an humor playd the prodlgall, And bids my sences to a solemne feast ; Yet more to grace the company withall, Inuites my hart to be the chiefest guest. No other drinke would serue this ghittons 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 o'rcome with foule excesse, Begins to play a 'swaggering rufhns part, And at the banquet, in his drunkennes, Slew my deere friend, his kind and truest hart. A gentle warning, friends, thus may you see. What tis to keepe a drunkard company. Sonnet 8. Theres nothing grieues me, but that age should haste, That in my dayes I may not see thee olde, That where those two clear sparkling eies are plact, Onely two loop-holes then I might behold : That louely, arched, iuory, polish'd brow Defac'd with wrinkles that I might but see ; Thy dainty haire, so curld and crisped now, Like grizzled mosse vpon some aged tree; Thy cheeke, now flush with roses, lank and leane, Thy lips with age as any wafer thinne. Thy pearly teeth out of thy head so cleans. That when thou feed'st thy nose shall touch thy chin : These lines, that now thou scorn'st, which should delight thee, Then would I make thee read, but to despight thee. 446 SONNETS UNDER THE To the Moone. Sonnet 9. Phoebe, looke down, and heere behold in mee The elements within thy sphere inclosed; How kindely 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 tears, coolde with humidity. Wan, llegmaticke, inclind by Nature wholie ; My sighes 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 percing, still inclind to choller ; Thine eye the Orbe vnto all these, from whence Proceeds th' effects of powerfull influence. To Imnacie. Sonnet 10. As other men, so I my selfe do muse. Why in this sorts I wrest inuention so, And why these giddy metaphors I vse. Leaning the path the greater part do 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 sicke. In most distraction keepe they still in minde. Thus, talking idely in this bedlam fit, Eeason and I (you must conceaue) are twaine. Tis nine yeeres now since I first 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. TITLE OP IDEA. 447 Sonnet 11. To nothing fitter can I thee compare, Then to the sonne of some rich penny-father, Who hauing now brought on his end with care, Leaues to his sonne all he had heap'd together : This new rich nouice, lauish of his chest, To one man giues, and on an other spends, Then heere he riots; yet, amongst the rest, Haps to send some to one true honest friend. Thy gifts thou in obscuritie doost waste. False friends thy kindenes, borne but to deceiue thee. Thy loue, that is on the vn worthy plac'd. Time hath thy beautie, which with age will leaue thee : Onely that little which to me was lent, I giue thee backe, when all the rest is spent. Sonnet 12. You not alone, when you are still alone, 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 being. Though either distant, present yet to either, Sencelesse 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 meanes 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 do bewitch me : 0, that I could file. From my selfe you, or from your owne selfe I ! 448 SONNETS UNDER THE To the Soule. Sonnet 13. That learned father, which so firmely proues The Soule of man imraortall and diuine, And doth the seuerall offices define, Anima Giues her that name as she the body moues. Amor Then is the loue imbracing Charitie; Animus Mouing a will in vs, it is the minde, Mens Retaining knowledge, still the same in kinde; Memoria As intellectuall it is the memory, Ratio In iudgeing Eeason onely is her name ; Sensus In speedie apprehension it is sence, Conscientia In right or wrong, they call her conscience: Spiritus The spirit, whe it to Godward doth inflame. These of the soule the seuerall functions bee, Which my heart, lightned by thy loue, doth see* Sonnet 14. If hee, from heauen that filch'd the liuing fire, Condemn'd by loue to endlesse torment be, I greatly meruaile how you still go free, That farre beyond Prometheus did aspire. The fire he stole, although of heauenly kinde. Which from aboue he craftily did take, Of liuelesse clods vs liuing men to make. Again e bestow'din temper of the minde. But you broke into heauens immortall store, Where vertue, honour, wit and beauty lay, Which taking thence you haue escap'd away. Yet stand as free as ere you did before; But old Prometheus punish'd for his rape. Thus poore theeues suffer, when the greater scape. TITLE OF IDEA. 449 To Sumour. Sonnet 15. You cannot loue, my pretty heart, and why? There was a time you told me that you would. But now againe you will the same denie. 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. doe? What, will you keepe a meane then betwixt eyther, Or will you loue me, and yet hate me too? 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 perceiue your drift, And all this while I was mistaken there : Your loue and hate is this, I now do proue you, You loue in hate, by hate to make me loue you. His remedy for Loue. Sonnet 16. Since to obtaine thee nothing will me stead, I haue a med'cine that will cure my loue; The powder of her hart when she is dead. That gold nor honour ne're had power to moue, Mixt with her tears that nere her true loue crost, Nor at fifteen ne're long'd to be a bride, Boild with her sighes, in giuing vp the ghost. That for her late deceased husband died : Into the same, then, let a woman breathe, That being chid did neuer word replie, With one thrice-married's prayers, that did bequeathe A legacy to stale virginitie. If this receipt haue not the power ib wean me, Little He say, but thinke the Devill's in me. 3l 460 SONNETS UNDER THE Sonnet 17. An euill spirit, your beautie, haunts me still, Wherewitli (alas) I liaue beene long possest, WMcli ceasetli not to tempt me vnto ill, Nor giues me once but one poore minutes rest : In me it speakes, whether I sleepe or wake; And when by meanes to driue it out I trie, With greater torments then it me doth take, And tortures me in most extreamitie. Before my face it laies all my dispaires, And hastes me on vnto a suddaine death; Now tempting me to drowne my selfe in teares, And then in sighing to giue vp my breath. Thus am I still provokde to euery euill, By this good wicked spirit, sweete angell diuell. To the Spheares. Sonnet 18. Thou which doost guide this little world of loue, Thy planets mansions heere thou maist behold. My brow the spheare where Saturne still doth moue, Wrinckled with cares, withered, dry and cold : Mine eyes the Orbe where lupiter doth trace, Which gently smile because they looke on thee : Mars in my swartie visage takes his place. Made leane with loue, where furious conflicts bee: Sol in my breast with his hote scorching flame; But in my heart alone doth Venus raigne : Mercury my hands, the Organs of my fame ; Luna my wauering and vnconstant vaine: The starry heauen thy praise by me exprest, Thou the first mouer, guiding all the rest. TITLE OF IDEA. 451 To Folly. Sonnet 19. With fooles and children good discretion beares : Then, honest people, beare with Loue and me, Nor older yet, nor wiser made by yeares, Amongst the rest of fooles and children be. Loue's still a baby, plaies with gawdes and toyes, And, like a wanton, sports with euery feather. And ideots still are running after boyes : Then, fooles and children fittst to go 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 s'corne ; Giue Nature thankes you are not such as we : Yet fooles and children sometimes tell in play; Some, wise in shew, more fooles indeede then they. Sonnet 20. Loue, 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'de the almes of such as passed by. I, like a man denote and charitable, Clothed the naked, lodg'd this wandring guest. With sighes and teares still furnishing his table With what might make the miserable blest : But this vngratefull for my good desart Enticde my thoughts against me to conspire. Who gaue consent to steale away my heart, And set my breast, his lodging, on a fire. Well, well, my friends, when beggars grow thus bold, No meruaile, then, though charity grow cold. 3 L 2 452 SONNETS UNDER THE Sonnet 21. A witlesse gallant, a young wench that woo'd, (Yet his dull spirit her not one jot could mooue,) Entreated me, as ere I wishd his good, To write him but one sonnet to his loue : When I, as fast as ere my pen could trot, Pour'd out what first from quick inuention came. Nor euer stood one word thereof to blot. Much like his wit that was to me the same; But with my verses he his mistresse wonne, Who doted on the dolt beyond all measure. But see, for you to heauen for phrase 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. Sonnet 22. I heare some say, this man is not in loue : Who can he loue ? a likely thing, they say : Eeade but his verse and it will easly proue. ! iudge not rashly (gentle Sir) I pray : Because I loosely trifle in this sort, As one that faine his sorrows 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 onelie to be got. They resolute ? so stands the case with me ; Where other men in depth of passion crie, I laugh at Fortune, as in jeast to die. TITLE OF IDEA. 4,53 Sonnet 23. ! whie sliould nature niggardly restraine, The Soutlierne nations rellish not our tono-ue ? Else should my lines glide on the waues of Rliene, And crown 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 glorie in the north, Slaking my sighs to thawe the frozen seas; And let the Bards within that Irish ile, To whome my Muse with firie wings shall passe, Call backe the stiffe-neckt rebells from exile, And mollifie the slaughtring Galliglasse ; And when my flowing numbers they reherse. Let wolues and beares be charmed with my verse. To Fantasie. Sonnet 24. I gaue my faith to Loue, Loue his to me, That he and I sworne brothers should remaine : Thus, faith receiu'd, faith giuen backe againe. Who would imagine bond more sure could be ? Loue flies to her, yet holdes he my faith taken. And from my vertue raising my offence. Making me guilty of mine innocence, And onelie bond by being so forsaken. He makes her aske what I before had vow'd, Giuing her that which he had giuen to mee ; I bound by him, and he by her made free. Who euer so hard breach of faith allowd? Speake, you that should of right and wrong discusse. Was right ere wrongd, or wrong ere righted thus? 454 SONNETS UNDER THE Sonnet 25. To such as saie, tliy loue I ouer-prise, And doe not sticke to terme my praises follie, Against these folkes, that thinke themselues so wise, I thus appose my force of reason wholie. 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 trebble gaine, The 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 deceiued then , or 1 ? In eu'rie thing I holde this maxime still. The circumstance doth make it good or ill. To the Senses. Sonnet 26. When conqu'ring loue did first my hart assaile, Vnto mine aide I sommond euerie sence, Doubting, if that prowde tirant should preuaile. My hart should staffer for mine eies offence ; But he with beautie first corrupted sight, My hearing bribde with her tongues harmonie, My taste by her sweete lippes drawne with delight, My smelling wonne with her breaths spicerie; But when my touching came to plaie his part, (The King of sences, greater than the rest) He yeeldes loue vp the keis vnto my hart. And tells the other how they should be blest: And thus, by those of whome I hopde for aide, To cruell loue my soule was first betraide. TITLE OF IDEA. 455 To the Vestalls. Sonnet 27. Those Priests which first the Vestall fire begun, Which might be borrowed from no earthly flame. Deuisde a vessell to receiue the Sunne, Being stedfastly opposed to the same ; Wliere, with sweete wood, laide curiously by Arte, Whereon the Sunne might by reflexion beate, Eeceiuing strength from euerie secret part, The fuell kindled witli celestiall heate. Thy blessed eies, the Sunne which lights this fire, My holie thoughts they be the Vestall flame, The precious odours be my chaste desire, My breast the fuell which includes the same : Thou arte my Vesta, thou my goddesse art; Thy halowed temple onelie is my hart. Sonnet 28. Me thinkes I see some crooked Mimicke jeere, And taxe my JIuse with this fantasticke grace. Turning my papers, askes, what haue we heere? Making withall some filthie antike face. I feare no censure, nor what thou canst say, N^or shall my spirit one jote of vigor lose: Thinkst thou my wit shall keepe the packe-horse way, That eu'rie dudgen lowe inuention goes? Since Sonnets thus in bundles are imprest, Aud eu'rie drudge doth dull our satiate eare, Thinkst thou my Loue shall in those ragges be drest, That eu'rie dowdie, eu'rie trull doth weare? Vnto my pitch no common iudgement flies: I scorne all earthlie dung-bred scarabies. 456 SONNETS UNDER THE Sonnet 29. Is not loue here as 'tis in other climes, And diff'reth it as do the seuerall nations? hath it lost the vertue with the times, Or in this island alt'reth with the fashions? Or haue our passions lesser power then theirs Who had lesse art them liuely to expresse ? Is nature growne lesse powerful! in their heires, Or in our fathers did she more transgresse ? Ime sure my sighes come from a hart as true As any mans that memory can boast, . And my respects and seruices to you Ec[uall with his that loues his mistresse most. Or Nature must be partiall in my cause. Or onely you doe violate her lawes. To Ad/miration. Sonnet 30. Maruell not, Loue, though I thy power admire, , Kauisht a world beyond the farthest thought. That knowing more than euer hath bin taught, That I ana onelie staru'd in my desire. Maruell not, Loue, though I thy power admire. Aiming at things exceeding all perfection, To wisedomes selfe to minister direction. That I am onelie staru'd m my desire. Maruell not, Loue, though I thy power admire. Though ray conceit I further seeme to bend. Than possibly inuention can extend. And yet am onelie staru'd in my desire. If thou wilt wonder, heere's the wonder, Loue, That this to me doth yet no wonder proue. TITLE OF IDEA. 457 Sonnet 31. Deere, why should you commaund me to my rest, When now the night doth sommon all to sleeps? Methhikes this time becommeth Louers best, Night was ordained together friends to keepe. How happie are all other liuing things, Which though the dale disjoyne by seuerall flight, The quiet euening yet together brings. And each returns vnto his loue at night. ! thou that arte so curteous vnto all, Whie shouldst thou, Night, abuse me onelie thus. That euerie creature to his kinde doost call, And yet tis thou doost onelie seuer vs ? Well could I wish it would be euer daie, If, when night comes, you bid me goe awaie. Sonnet 32. Why should your faire eyes, with such soueraine grace, Dispearse their raies on euery vulgar spirit, Whilst I in darknes, in the selfe-sanie place. Get not one glance to recompence my merit? So doth the plow-man gaze the wandring starre. And onelyrests contented with the light. That neuer learnd what constellations are, Beyond the bent of his vnknowing sight, ! 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 ! Ouely compeld on this poore good to boast,' Heauens are not kind to the that know them most. 3 M 468 SONNETS TJNDEB THE Cupid conjured. Sonnet 33. Thou purblind boy, since thou hast bin so slacke To wound her hart whose eies haue wounded mce, And sufferd her to glorie in my wracks, Thus to my aide I lastly coniure thee. By hellish Styxe (by which the thunderer 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 owne loued Psyche, by the fires Spent on the altars, flaming vp to Heauen ; By all true louer's sighes, vowes, and desires, By all the wounds that euer thou hast giuen, I coniure thee, by all that I haue named, To make her loue, or, Cupid, be thou damned. Sonnet 34. Cupid, I hate thee, which Ide haue thee know. A naked starueling euer mayst thou bee : Poore rogue, go pawne thy fascia and thy bow. For some few rags wherewith to couer thee ; Or if thou'lt not thy archery forbears, To some base rusticks do thy selfe prsfsrre', And.when corn's sowne, or growne into the eare, Practise thy quiuer, and turne crow-keeper : Or being blind (as fittest for the trade) Go hire thyselfe some bungling harper's boy : They that are blinde are minstrells often made. So may'st thou Hue to thy faire mother's ioy. That whilst with Mars she holdeth her old way. Thou, her blind sonne, may sit by them and play TITLE OP IDEA. 459 Sonnet 35. Whilst thus my pen striues to eternize thee, Age rules my lines with wrinckles in my face, Where, in the map of all my miserie. Is modeld out the worlde of my disgrace. Whilst in despight of tyrannizing times, Medea like I make thee yong ao-aine, Prowdly thou scornst my world-outwearing rimes. And murther'st Vertue with thy coy disdaine. And though in youth my youth vntimely perish, To keepe thee from obliuion and the graue, Ensuing ages yet my rimes shall cherish, When I entomb'd my better part shall saue: And though this earthly bodie fade and die, My name shall mount vpon eternitie. Sonnet 36. Mvses, which sadly sit about my chaire, Drownd in the teares extorted by my lines. With heauie sighes whilst thus I breake the aire, Painting my passions in these sad dissignes; Since she disdaines to blesse my happie verse. The strong-built trophies to her lining fame, Euer henceforth my bosome be your hearse. Wherein the world shall now entombe her name. Enclose my musicke, you poore senselesse walls, Sith she is deafe and will not heare my mones; Soften your selues with euerie teare that falls. Whilst I, like Orpheus, sing to trees and stones; Which with my plaint seeme yet with pittie moued , Kinder then she who[ra] I so long haue loued. 3 m2 460 SONNETS UNDEB THE Sonnet 37. Plain-path'd Experience, the vnlearneds guide, Her simple followers euidently shewes. Sometime what schoolemen scarcely can decide. Nor yet wise Eeason absolutely knowes : In making triall of a murtlier 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 38. 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 credite in the eares of men, With those the thronged Theaters that presse, I in the circuit for the Lawrell stroue, Where the full praise, I freely must confesse, In heate of blood a modest minde might moue : With showts and claps 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 pnblique glorie vainely I pursue. The praise I striue is to eternize you. TITLE or IDEA. 461 Sonnet 39. Thou leaden braine, which censur'st what I write, And saist my lines be dull, and do not moue, I maruaile not thou feel'st not my delight, Wbich neuer felt my fierie tuch of loue : But thou, whose pen hath like a pack-horse seru'd. Whose stomacke vnto gaule hath turnd thy food. Whose senses, like poore prisners hunger-staru'd. Whose greefe hath parch'd thy body, dride thy blood; Thou, which hast scorned life, and hated death. And in a moment mad, sober, glad and sorie; Thou, which hath bann'd thy thoughts, and curst thy birth. With thousand plagues more then in purgatory ; Thou, thus whose spirit Loue in his fire refines. Come thou and reade, admire and plawd my lines. Sonnet 40, As in some Countries, far remote from hence, The wretched creature destined to die, Hauino- the iudgement due to his offence, By Surgeons begg'd, their Art on him to trie, ^ Which on the lining 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 raistresse works vpon my ill, By curing me, and killing me each howre, Onely to shew her beauties soueraigne powre. 462 SONNETS UNDER THE Sonnet 41. Calling [to] minde, since first my loue begunne, Th' incertaine times oft varying in tlieir course, How things still vnexpectedly liaue 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 girdle wheele : Though heauen and earth proue both to me vntrue, Yet am I still inuiolate to you. Sonnet 42. You, best discern'd of my interior eies, And yet your graces outwardly diuine, Whose deare remembrance in my bosoms lies, Too rich a relique for so poore a shrine ; You, in whome Nature chose herself 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 perfection altogether lost. TITLE OP IDEA. 4(53 Sonnet 43. What, dost tliou meane to cheate me of my hart, To take all mine, and give me none againe? Or haue thine eies such magicke, or that art, That what they get they euer do retalne ? Play not the tyrant, but take some remorse ; Rebate thy spleene, if but for pitty's sake; Or, cruel, if thou cans't not feele, let's scorse, And for one piece of thine my whole hart take. But what of pitty doe I speake to thee, Whose breast is proofe against complaint or prayer? Or can I thinke what my reward shall bee From that proud beauty that was my betrayer ? What talke I of a hart, when thou hast none ? Or if thou hast, it is a flinty one. Sonnet 44. 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 spirite 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 heaucn giues her to keepe : Pitty so left to coldenes of her blood, Nor to auaile her, nor doe others good. 4)64 SONNETS TJNDBE THE To Frouerb. Sonnet 45. As Loue and I late harbourde in one Inne, With. Prouerbs thus each other entertaine : In loue there is no lacke, thus J heginne : Faire wordes makes fooles, replieth he againe : That spares to speake doth spare to speed-e (quoth I): As well [saith he) too forward as too slowe : Fortune assistes th^boldest, I reply : A hastie man (quoth he) ne're wanted woe : Labour is light, luhere loue (quoth I) doth pay : (Saith lie) light burthens heauy, iffarre 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 46. Since there's no helpe, come, let vs kisse and part. Nay, I haue done ; you get no more of mee, And I am glad, yea, glad with all my hart, That thus so cleanly I my selfe can free. Shake hands for euer, cancell all our vowes. And when we meete at any time againe. Be it not seene on either of our browes. That we one jot of former loue retaine. Now, at the last gasp of loue's latest breath, ■*' When, his pulse failing, passion speechles lies. When faith is kneeling by his bed of death. And innocence is closing vp his eies. Now, if thou would'st, when all haue given him ouer From death to life thou might'st him yet recouer. TITLE OF IDEA. 465 Sonnet 47. Truce, gentle Loue ; a parlee now I craue : Methinks tis long since first these warres begun, Nor thou nor I the better yet can haue : Bad is the match where neither party wonne. I oifer free conditions of faire peace. My heart 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. A Cansonet. Eyes, with your teares blind if you bee. Why haue these teares such eyes to see? Poore eyes, if your teares cannot moue My teares, eyes then must moue 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, cleare 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. 3n NOTES TO IDEA. p. 432, 1. 1. Idea.] Some of the sonnets -wliich Drayton afterwards included under the general title of " Idea " (in compliment to the lady whom he so designated, at least, as early as 1593) were first published in the production which is placed third in our volume, and which in 1594 was named by its author " Idea's Mirrour." A few of those sonnets, as explained in our notes to that work, the poet never re- printed; but in 1599 such as he thought fit to preserve, together with others then new, were appended to an edition of " England's Heroical Epistles." These sonnets were multiphed and amended from time to time, and made their appearance in the several impressions of the "Poems by Michaell Drayton, Esquire," in 1603, 1605, 1608, 1610, 1613, &c. In 1619 they had increased to sixty-three in number, and were collected and printed in the folio edition of Drayton's " Poems " pub- hshed in that year : they had a separate title-page, thus worded — " Idea. In sixtie- three sonnets. By Michaell Drayton, Esquire," with the imprint of John Smith- vrick. Our course has been to select all those sonnets which were not originally inserted in " Idea's Mirrour:'' we thus give the whole collection in our volume, although it has been necessary, in order to avoid repetition, to separate the portion which came out in 1594 from the rest. Our text has usually been that of the impression of Drayton's Poems in 1605; and, although we have not held it necessary to mark every alteration, made at intervals by the poet, we have not failed to point out the most material variations. P. 440, 1. 1. The worlds faire Eose, and Henries frosty firefj This sonnet sometimes was, and sometimes was not, included by Drayton under the general title of " Idea-" but it was so in 1599 (when it was first printed), and, although it has an obvious reference to " England's Heroical Epistles," the closing couplet shews that the poet intended it as an introduction to such pieces as related to his own personal or poetical passion. "We have followed the readings of the oldest copy. P. 441, 1. 2. Into these loues who but for passion lookes.J This sonnet, first published in 1599, was reprinted in 1619, but with a satirical change at the end, where Dray- ton directs his attack upon the love of variety' of fashions, in the last line but one NOTES. 467 against his own country in particular, and not, as in the first instance, against the world at large: — " My Muse is rightly of the English strains, That cannot long one fashion intertaine." P. 441, 1. 17. Many there be excelling in this kind.] The author did not reprint this sonnet, regarding his contemporaries Sir Philip Sydney, Henry Constable, and Samuel Daniel, in 1619: it first appeared in 1599, and possibly Drayton thought it too miich in the spirit of the preceding sonnet to require repetition twenty years afterwards. P. 442, 1. 3. Like an adventurous sea-farer am I.] This sonnet properly commences the series printed under the title of " Idea." P. 442, 1. 23. Doe quit the dead, and me not accessary.] i. e. the jury, on view of the body, acquitted the dead of the crime oifelo de se. P. 443, 1. 2. Bright starre of beauty, on whose eye-Uds sit.J In the editions of 1603 and 1 605 this sonnet was addressed " To the Lady S. ," and wals not there included under the title of " Idea." Drayton placed it fourth in the reprint of 1619, as if Lady S. and Idea might be the same person. It is impossible to dispute that the conclusion was much improved in 1619 : — " My souls is of a brauer mettle made ; I hold that vile which vulgar wit affords : In me's that faith which time cannot inuade. Let what I praise be still made good by you : Be you most worthy, whilst I am most true." Our text is the 8vo. of 1605, where the sonnet is numbered 63. P. 443,1. 17. Nothing but no and I, and I and no? J i e. " Nothing but no and aye, and aye and no?" A stronger instance of the confusion produced by writing the adverb aye "I " can hardly be pointed out. In the fifth line, in 1619, slightly is substi- tuted for " slender." P. 444, 1. 18. How many paltry, fooKsh, painted things.] This sonnet is of a more recent character than some others. P. 445, 1. 17. Theres nothing grieves me, but that age should haste.] Daniel, in his. " Delia" 1592, has a sonnet in a similar spirit, numbered xxx. In the ninth hue Drayton altered " lank and leane " to " sunk and leane,"— without improvement. P. 446, 1. 29. Tis nine yeeres now since I first lost my wit. J From this line we might infer that the sonnet was written nine year^ after the author had faUen in. love with the lady of his "Idea." 3 n2 t68 SONNETS UNDER THE TITLE OF IDEA. P 450, 1. 15. If this receipt haue not the power to wean me.J So the earliest impression of this sonnet ; and, as it may be right, we do not alter it, although in the editions of 1619 and 1637 " wean me " is altered to " winne me " and " win me." P. 452, ]. 3^1 /et, by my troth, this foole his lone obtaines.J We need not wonder at old misprints, when in every impression of this sonnet, but the first, " by my troth '' stands " by mj froth.'' Drayton himself did not detect the error in 1619. P 453, 1. 18. The Southerne nations rellish not our tongue.] In 1619 Drayton made his complaint more general, " That foraine nations rellish notour tongue." In 1599 he had addressed the following sonnet to a personage of the very highest rank in Scotland, and he again printed it at the end of " Idea " in 1603, 1605, &c. under the following title : — To THE HIGH AND MI6HTIE PkINCE, IaMES, 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 glory from thy selfe doth spring, As though thou didst all meaner praises scorne, Of Kings a Poet, and the Poets King : They Princes, but thou Prophets doost adorne. Whilst others by their Empires are renownd, Thou doost enrich thy Scotland with renowne, And Kings can but with diadems be crown'd ; But with thy laurell thou doost crowne thy Crowne, That they, whose pens (euen) life to Kings do giue, In thee, a King, shall seeke themselues to Hue." P. 456, 1, 3. Those Priests which first the Vestall fire begun.] This is the sonnet to which allusion is made in a note at the bottom of p. 178 of our volume. P. 456, 1. 25. That eu'rie dudgen low inuention goes.] "Dudgeon" means wooden, and metaphorically, common or ordinary. A dudgeon-dagger is a dagger with a wooden handle, as distinguished from other materials used for the purpose. In the edition of 1613 this sonnet is addressed " To the Criticke." P. 458, 1. 17. Why should your faire eyes, with such soueraine grace.] This sonnet, for no assignable reason, was omitted in 1602 and 1603 ; but it again found its way to the author's favour in 1605, and afterwards. NOTES. 469 p. 460, 1. 2. Wliilst thus my pen strives to eternize thee.J This is by no means the only place where Drayton (like many other poets, ancient and modern,) evinces a lofty consciousness of his own powers, and of the immortahty he was enjoying and con- ferring. See also the next sonnet. P 460, 1. 17. Muses, which sadly sit about my chaire.J In the last line, in the edition of 1605, the word "loued" is misprinted " lined," but the obvious blunder was sub- sequently set right: the wonder is how it was ever committed, seeing that the rhyme alone ought to have been a sufficient guide. P. 461, 1. 9. Oft hath been prou'd the breathlesse coarse will bleed.] The superstition was very common in the time of Drayton and in some degree it prevails even now. This sonnet, having been first printed in 1599, was omitted in 1602 and 1603, and restored in 1605. P. 461, 1. 17. In pride of wit when high desire of fame.] The opening of this sonnet reminds us of the tone and spirit in which Savage's " Bastard " commences. Drayton here interestingly alludes to his own labours for the stage, and to the applause such labours won. Daniel in the 46th sonnet of his " Deha," 1592, has a somewhat similar reference, but he professes to speak with some contempt of the theatres on the Bankside. At the very close of his epistle to Henry Reynolds, Drayton notices the numerous dramatic writers of his time, " that them applause have won Upon our stages in these latter days, ^ That are so many.'^ The sonnet to which the present note refers was withdrawn in 1602, but reprinted in 1605, when " a," in the eighth line, was by error made and: it is corrected in the edition of 1619, and there, in the last ]me,seeke was judiciously substituted for " striue." P. 462, 1. 15. Come thou and reade, admire and plawd my lines ] For " and plawd " the folio 1619 has applaud. P. 463, 1. 2. As in some Countries, far remote from hence.J This sonnet was excluded in 1602 and 1603, but re-inserted afterwards. P. 463, 1. 17. Calling [to] minde, since first my lone begunne.J It is evident, from the important topics introduced, that this sonnet could not have been wi-itten tiU shortly before it was printed in 1605. The preposition " to " was accidently left out in that edition only. P. 464, 1. 2. You, best discem'd of my interior eies.] When Drayton included this 470 SONNETS UNDEE THE TITLE OF IDEA. sonnet (it is omitted in 1602 and 1603) in the folio of 1619 he altered the first and last lines : " You, best discern 'd of my minds inward eyes," and " In your perfection so much am I lost." P. 464, 1. 23. Or, cruel, if thou canst not feele, let's scorse.J i. e. let us exchange: though variously spelled, and of disputed etymology, the meaning is always the same. In 1619 the line stands thus : — *' Or, cruel, if thou can'st not, let vs scorse.'' P. 465, 1. 2. In former times, such as had store of coyne.] Not in the editions of 1602 and 1603: it first appeared in 1605. P. 467, 1. 17. Eyes, with your teares blind if you bee.J This canzonet was first pub- lished in 1599, at the end of " England's Heroical Epistles," of that year, and it was again printed in 1602. SUPPLEMENTAL NOTES. p. 70, 1. 3. The lothUe morphea saffroned the place.] So Bishop HaU in Lib. iv. Sat. 5. " And sullen rags bewray his morphewd skin." P. 77, 1. 6. O thou fayre siluer Thames ! 6 cleerest ohrystaU flood !] This song seems to be a direct imitation of Spenser's poem in praise of Queen Elizabeth in his Shep- heards' Calendar for April: see, especially, the enumeration of flowers in each. P. 98, 1. 18. Pandora thou, our Phoebus was thy brother.] Spenser, in his " Colin Clout's come home again," gives Lady Pembroke the name of Urania :— "They all, quoth he, me graced goodly well, That all I praise : but in the highest place Urania, sister unto Astrophell, In whose brave mind, as in a golden coffer, All heavenly gifts and riches locked are, More rich then pearles of Inde, or gold of Opher ; And in her sex more wonderful and rare." P. 101, 1. 2. The lowly handmaide of the Fayrie Queene.j Spenser thus concludes that remarkable sonnet (numbered Ixxx. in the collection of Amoretti) where he mentions his unfinished poem : " But let her praises yet be lowe and meane. Fit for the handmayd of the Faery Queene." P. 104, 1. 30. Till with her busines and her nicetie.J So perhaps Sidney, " Arcadia," edit. 1598, p. 229. " We oft are angrier with the feeble flie For businesse, where it pertaines him not." " Businesse " is here, probably, to be understood huzziness. P. 130, 1. 10. Thanks, gentle Rowland, for my roundelay.] Nevertheless, in 1619, Drayton allowed it to stand " my roundelay :'' we must however consider it a misprint. 472 SUPPLEMENTAL NOTES. P. 143, 1. 11. To getsweete Cetywall.] The same plant that Spenser (or his printer) calls Setuale, and gives it an appropriate epithet, " Dull poppy, and drink-quickning Setuale." It occurs in the enumeration of herbs in " Muiopotmos." P. 147, 1. 2. Ma. Anthony Cooke, Esquire.J He, with Sir William Knowles, formed the eighth couple in G. Peele's " Polyhymnia," 1590. They and twenty-two others ran at tilt before the Queen on the 17th of November preceding. After speaking of Sir William KJnowles, Peele says of Cooke — " Against Sir William ran a lusty knight ; Fine in device he was and full of wit, Famous beyond the chalky British cliifs, And lov'd and honour'd in his country's bounds, Anthony Cooke, a man of noble name. For arms and courtship equal with the best: Valour and vertue sat upon his helm, Whom love and lowering Fortune led along, And life and death he portray'd in his shew ; A liberal hand, badge of nobility, A heart that in his mistress' honour vows To task his hand in witness of his heart, Till age shake off rough wars habiliments. " We may suspect " lowering," in the eighth hne, to be a misprint for towering, but we quote from the reprint of the Eev. A. Dyce, 11. 207. Peele calls Cooke a knight in the body of the poem because he performed a knightly part, but he was not then knighted, and in the introductory portion of " Polyhymnia " he only men- tions him as " Ma. Anthony Cooke." P. 150, 1. 17. My faire, had I not erst adorn'd my Lute.J Although Drayton did not include this sonnet in the reprint of 1605, it is found in the editions of 1599 and 1603. P. 158, 1. 26. My manhood dares not with foule Ate meU.] Spenser uses the word " mell " in one hne, and explains it in the next: Harme may come by melling. Thou medlest more then shall have thanke To witen shepheards wealth." Shep. Cal. July. To meddle sometimes means to mingle, as where Spenser, in his Eclogue for August, makes Perigott say " With mery thing its good to meddle sad." SUPPLEMENTAL NOTES. 473 P. 163, 1. 2. My loue makes hote the fire whose heate is spent.] It is a mistake when it is said, in a note upon this sonnet (p. 184), that Drayton afterwards exchided it. He reprinted it in 1602 and 1613, but it is not foimd in the editions of 1603 and 1605. P. 163, 1. 27. It pleaseth me if I my plaints rehearse.] So Spenser, in his sixth Eclogue for June : — " I never list presume to Parnasse hill, But piping lowe in sliade of lowly grove, I play to please my selfe, albeit ill." P. 165, 1. 17. Those teares, which quench my hope, still kindle my desire.] Strictly speaking, the note upon this sonnet is correct; but Drayton afterwards much altered the sonnet, reduced it to regularity, as regards the measure, and inserted it at the end of" England's Heroical Epistles" in 1602 and 1603, but again rejected it in 1605. P. 167, 1. 19. Sleepe hghtning Beauty, Beauty sleepes, darknes cleereth.J Here the comma after " sleepes " ought to be omitted: properly printed the sentence would be, " Beauty sleeps' darkness cleareth." P. 207, 1. 12. To whom fayre Phoece lent her frendly light.] For " Ph