Then poison, and with physic him restore:
Not that they fear the hopeless man to kill,
But their experience to increase the more:
Ev'n so my mistress works upon my ill;

By curing me, and killing me each hour,
Only to show her beauty's sov'reign pow'r.
LI.

CALLING to mind since first my love begun,
Th' uncertain times oft varying in their course,
How things still unexpectedly have run,
As't please the fates by their resistless force:
Lastly, mine eyes amazedly have seen
Essex' great fall, Tyrone his peace to gain,
The quiet end of that long-living queen,

This king's fair entrance, and our peace with Spain,
We and the Dutch at length ourselves to sever;
Thus the world doth, and evermore shall reel;
Yet to my goddess am I constant ever,
Howe'er blind Fortune turn her giddy wheel:
Though Heaven and Earth prove both to me un-
Yet am I still inviolate to you.

LII.

[true,

WHAT dost thou mean to cheat me of my heart, To take all mine, and give me none again? Or have thine eyes such magic, or that art, That what they get, they ever do retain? Play not the tyrant, but take some remorse, Rebate thy spleen, if but for pity's sake; Or cruel, if thou can'st not, let us scorse, And for one piece of thine my whole heart take. But what of pity do I speak to thee, Whose breast is proof against complaint or prayer, Or can I think what my reward shall be From that proud beauty, which was iny hetrayer? What talk I of a heart, when thou hast none? Or if thou hast, it is a flinty one.

LIII.

ANOTHER TO THE RIVER ANKOR.

CLEAR Ankor, on whose silver-sanded shore,
My soul-shrin'd saint, my fair Idea lies,
O blessed brook, whose milk-white swans adore
Thy christal stream refined by her eyes,
Where sweet inyrrh-breathing Zephyr in the spring
Gently distils his nectar-dropping showers,
Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing,
Amongst the dainty dew-impearled flowers;
Say thus, fair brook, when thou shalt see thy queen,
Lo, here thy shepherd spent his wand'ring years,
And in these shades, dear nymph, he oft had been,
And here to thee he sacrific'd his tears:

Fair Arden. thou my Tempe art alone,
And thou, sweet Ankor, art my Helicon.
LIV.

YET read at last the story of my woe,
The dreary abstracts of my endless cares,
With my life's sorrow interlined so,

Smok'd with my sighs, and blotted with my tears,
The sad memorials of my miseries,

Penn'd in the grief of mine afflicted ghost,
My life's complaint in doleful elegies,
With so pure love, as time could never boast;
Receive the incense which I offer here,
By my strong faith ascending to thy fame: [pray'r,
My zeal, my hope, my vows, my praise, my
My soul's oblations to thy sacred name;

[raise,

Which name my Muse to highest Heav'n shall By chaste desire, true love, and virtuous praise.

LV.

My fair, if thou wilt register my love, A world of volumes sball thereof arise: Preserve my tears, and thou thyself shalt prove A second flood, down raining from my eyes: Note but my sighs, and thine eyes shall behold The sun-beams smother'd with immortal smoke; And if by thee my prayers may be enroll'd, They Heaven and Earth to pity shall provoke: Look thou into my breast, and thou shall see Chaste holy vows for my soul's sacrifice; That soul (sweet maid) which so hath honour'd Erecting trophies to thy sacred eyes, [thee, Those eyes to my heart shining ever bright, When darkness hath obscur'd each other light.

LVI.

AN ALLUSION TO THE EAGLETS.

WHEN like an eglet I first found my love, For that the virtue I thereof would know, Upon the nest I set it forth to prove, If it were of that kingly kind, or no: But it no sooner saw my sun appear, But on her rays with open eyes it stood, To show that I had hatch'd it for the air, And rightly came from that brave mounting brood; And when the plumes were summ'd with sweet deTo prove the pinions, it ascends the skies; Do what I could, it need'sly would aspire To my soul's sun, those two celestial eyes: Thus from my breast, where it was bred alone, It after thee is like an eaglet flown.

LVII.

[sire,

You best discern'd of my mind's inward eyes,
And yet your graces outwardly divine,
Whose dear reinembrance in my bosom lies,
Too rich a relic for so poor a shrine:
You, in whom Nature chose herself to view,
When she her own perfection would admire,
Bestowing all her excellence on you;

At whose pure eyes love lights his hallow'd fire,
Ev'n as a man that in some trance had seen,
More than his wond'ring utt'rance can unfold,
That wrapp'd in spirit, in better worlds hath been,
So much your praise distractedly be told:

Most of all short, when I should show you most,
In your perfections so much am I lost.
LVIII.

IN former times, such as had store of coin,
In wars at home, or when for conquests bound,
For fear that some their treasure should purloin,
Gave it to keep to spirits within the ground;
And to attend it, them as strongly ty'd,
Till they return'd: home when they never came,
Such as by art to get the same have try'd,
From the strong spirit by no means force the same;
Nearer men come, that further flies away,
Striving to hold it strongly in the deep :

Ev'n as this spirit, so you alone do play
With those rich beauties Heaven gives you to keep;
Pity so left to th' coldness of your blood,
Not to avail you, nor do others good.

LIX.

TO PROVERBS.

As Love and I late harbour'd in one inn With proverbs thus each other entertain: "In love there is no lack," thus I begin, "Fair words make fools," replieth he again;

"Who spares to speak, doth spare to speed" (quoth "As well" (saith he) "too forward, as too slow:"[I) "Fortune assists the boldest," I reply,

"A hasty man" (quoth he) " ne'er wanted woe: "Labour is light, where love" (quoth I)" doth pay," (Saith he)" Light burthens heavy, if far borne:" (Quoth I) "The main lost, cast the by away," "Y' have spun a fair thread," he replies in scorn. And having thus a while each other thwarted, Fools as we met, so fools again we parted.

LX.

DEFINE my weal, and tell the joys of Heaven,
Express my woes, and show the pains of Hell,
Declare what fate unlucky stars have given,
And ask a world upon my life to dwell,
Make known the faith that fortune could not move,
Compare my worth with others' base desert,
Let virtue be the touchstone of my love,
So may the Heavens read wonders in my heart;
Behold the clouds which have eclips'd my sun,
And view the crosses which my course do let,
Tell me, that ever since the world begun,
So fair a rising had so foul a set :

And see if Time (if he would strive to prove)
Can show a second to so pure a love.

LXI.

SINCE there's no help, come let us kiss and part,
Nay I have done, you get no more of me,
And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free;
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows,
That we one jot of former love retain ;
Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath,
When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,
When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And innocence is closing up his eyes,

Now if thou would'st, when all have given him
over,
[cover.
From death to life thou might'st him yet re-
LXII.

WHEN first I ended, then I first began,
Then more I travell'd further from my rest,
Where most I lost, there most of all I wan,
Pined with hunger, rising from a feast.
Methinks I fly, yet want I legs to go,
Wise in conceit, in act a very sot,
Ravish'd with joy amidst a Hell of woe,
What most I seem, that surest am I not.
I build my hopes a world above the sky,
Yet with the mole I creep into the earth,
In plenty I am starv'd with penury,
And yet I surfeit in the greatest dearth:

I have, want, despair, and yet desire,
Burn'd in a sea of ice, drown'd 'midst a fire.
'LXIII.

TRUCE, gentle Love, a parly now I crave.
Methinks 'tis long since first these wars begun,
Nor thou, nor I, the better yet can have,
Bad is the match, where neither party won.
I offer free conditions of fair peace,
My heart for hostage that it shall remain,
Discharge our forces, here let malice cease,
So for my pledge thou give me pledge again:
Or if no thing but death will serve thy turn,
Still thirsting for subversion of my state;
Do what thou canst, rase, massacre, and burn,
Let the world see the utmost of thy hate :

I send defiance, since if overthrown,
Thou vanquishing, the conquest is mine own.

THE OWL.

Noctuas Athenas.

TO THE HONOURABLE

SIR WALTER ASTON, KNT.
For the shrill trumpet, and stern tragic sounds,
Objects outrageous and so full of fear;

Our pen late steep'd in English barons' wounds,
Sent warlike accents to your tuneful ear.
Our active Muse, to gentler morals dight,
Her slight conceits, in humbled tunes doth sing;
And with the bird regardless of the light,
Slowly doth move her late high-mounting wing.
The wreath is ivy that ingirts our brows,
Wherein this night-bird harb'reth all the day:
We dare not look at other crowning boughs,
But leave the laurel unto them that may.

Low as the earth, though our invention move;
High yet as Heaven to you, our spotless love.

TO THE READER.

M. DRAYTON.

READER, to him that may (perhaps) say my subject is idle and worthless, I might this answer (if he will see in reading, or read with understanding) that the greatest masters in this art (though myself, not for any affectation of singularity) have written upon as slight matter. As the princes of the Greeks and Latins, the first of the Frogs' War, the latter of a poor Gnat; and Vida very wittily of the Chess-play and Silk-worm; besides many other that I could recite of the like kind. By how much immaterial, so much the more difficult, to handle with any encomiastic defence, or passionate comparison, (as their strong testimony) who can give virtue her due, and by the powerfuluess of wit, maintain vice not viciously. Some other likewise in a paradoxial manner, as Isocrates' Oration in praise of Helen, whom all the world dispraiseth: Agrippa's Declamation upon the Vanity of the Sciences, which knowledge all the world admireth. Thus leaving thee favourably to censure of my poor labours, I end.

M. DRAYTON.

IN NOCTUAM DRAYTONI.

QUÆ nova Lemniacas deturbant tela Volucres? Quis furor? aligero perstringit corpore Graios, Transfixo, Proceres? Posita Pæantius irâ, Contulit Herculeas ad Troica fata Pharetras. Fallimur? an puro tonuit pater altus Olympo? Aut tremuit sonitu Phœbæi Cœlifer arcus? Novimus augurium: tanto Deus ille tumultu Sacrorum exagitat mortalia Pectora Vatum.

[quent,

With those light flocks, which the fair fields freThis frolic season luckily I went, And as the rest did, did I frankly too, "Least is he mark'd, that doth as most men do." But whether by some casual defect, All flowers alike the time did not respect: Some whose new roots ne'er saw a former May, Flourish now fair, those wither'd quite away. Into my thoughts that incidently brings Th' inconstant passage of all worldly things. The rarest work whereat we wonder long, Obscur'd by time that envy could not wrong. And what in life can mortal man desire, That scarcely com'n, but quickly doth retire! The monarchies had time to grow to head, And at the height their conquer'd honours fled: And by their wane those latter kingdoms rose, That had their age to win, their hour to lose, Which with much sorrow brought into my mind, Their wretched souls so ignorantly blind, (stable) (When even the great'st things in the world unThat climb to fall, and damn them for a Babel. Whilst thus my thoughts were strongly entertain'd, The greatest lamp of Heaven his height had gain'd; Seeking some shade to lend content to me, Lo, near at hand, I spy'd a goodly tree; Under th' extensure of whose lordly arms, The small birds warbled their harmonious charms. Where sitting down to cool the burning heat, Through the moist pores evap'rating by sweat, Yielding my pleas'd thought to content (by chance) I on a sudden dropt into a trance: Wherein methought some god or power divine Did my clear knowledge wondrously refine. For that amongst those sundry varying notes, Which the birds sent from their melodious throats, Each sylvan sound I truly understood, Become a perfect linguist of the wood: Their flight, their song, and every other sign, By which the world did anciently divine, As the old Tuscans, in that skill profound', Which first great Car, and wise Tyresias found,

'Divination by birds,

To me bequeath'd their knowledge to descry,
The depth and secrets of their augury.

One I could hear appointing with his sweeting,
A place convenient for their secret meeting:
Others, when winter shortly should decline,
How they would couple at Saint Valentine':
Some other birds that of their loves forsaken,
To the close deserts had themselves betaken,
And in the dark groves where they made abode,
Sung many a sad and mournful palinod.
And every bird show'd in his proper kind,
What virtue nature had to him assign'd.
The pretty Turtle, and the kissing Dove,
Their faiths in wedlock, and chaste nuptial love :
The Hens (to women) sanctity express,
Hallowing their eggs: the Swallow cleanliness,
Sweeting her nest, and purging it of dung,
And every hour is picking of her young.
The Hern, by soaring shows tempestuous showers,
The Kite, his train him guiding in the air,
The princely Cock distinguisheth the hours.
Prescribes the helm, instructing how to steer.
The Crane to labour, fearing some rough flaw,
With sand and gravel burthening his craw:
Noted by man, which by the same did find
To ballast ships for steddiness in wind.
And by the form and order in his flight,
To march in war, and how to watch by night,
The first of house that ere did groundsel lay,
Which then was homely, of rude loam and clay,
Learn'd of the Martin: Philomel in spring,
Teaching by art ber little one to sing;

By whose clear voice sweet music first was found, Before Amphion ever knew a sound. Covering with moss the dead's unclosed eye, The little Redbreast teaching charity. So many there in sundry things excell, Time scarce could serve their properties to tell. I cannot judge if it the place should be, That should present this pretty dream to me, That near the eaves and shelter of a stack (Set to support it) at a beech's back, In a stubb'd tree with ivy overgrown, On whom the Sun had scarcely ever shone, Was set to sleep whilst every bird did sing. A broad-fac'd creature, hanging of the wing, His drowsy head still leaning on his breast, For all the sweet tunes Philomel express'd : No sign of joy did in his looks appear, Or ever mov'd his melancholy cheer. Ascalaphus, that brought into my head, In Ovid's changes metamorphosed, Or very like but him I read aright, Solemn of looks as he was slow of sight; And to assure me that it was the same; The birds about him strangely wond'ring came.

"Fie," quoth the Linnet, "tripping on the spray : Rouse thee, thou sluggish bird, this mirthful May, For shame come forth, and leave thy luskise nest, And haunt these forests bravely as the best. Take thy delight in yonder goodly tree, Where the sweet Merle, and warbling Mavis be." Next, quoth the Titmouse, which at hand did sit, "Shake off this moody melancholy fit.

See the small brooks as through these groves they travel,

Sporting for joy upon the silver gravel,

'The time when birds couple.

Ascalaphus in Bubonem.

Each little creature lifted up a wing,
With Are Cesar, to their sovereign king.
Who seeing the Owl, thus miserably forlorn,
Spoil'd of his feathers, mangled, scratcht and torn,
Will'd him his name and quality to show,
How and wherefore he suffered all this woe:
Which the Owl hearing, taking heart thereby,
Though somewhat daunted with his piercing eye,
(With a deep sigh) "My sovereign liege',"quoth he,
"Though now thus poor and wretched as you see,
Athens sometime the Muses' nursery,
The source of science and philosophy,
Allow'd me freedom in her learned bowers,
Where I was set in the Cecropian towers.
Armed Bellona (goddess of the field)
Honour'd my portrait in the warlike shield.
And for my study (of all other fowl)
The wise Minerva challenged the Owl:
For which, those grave and still-authentic sages,
Which sought for knowledge in those golden ages,
Of whom we hold the science that we have,
For wisdom, me their hieroglyphic gave.
The fruitful Ceres to great Saturn born,
The first with sickle cropp'd the rip'ned corn,
She bore the swarthy Acheron, whose birth,
Scarcely then perfect, loathing of the Earth,
And flying all community with men,
Thrust his black head into the Stygian fen;
Where the nymph Orphne in th' infernal shade,
As in his stream she carelessly did wade,
The flood embracing craftily beguil'd;
By whom soon after she conceiv'd with child;
Of her dear son Ascalaphus, whose youth
So cherish'd justice, and respected truth,
As to the gods he faithfully did tell,
The tasted fruit by Proserpine in Hell:
Which an offence imagined so foul,
Ceres transform'd into the harmless Owl.
To our disgrace, though it be urg'd by some,
Our harmless kind to Crete doth never come;
The Cretians are still liars, nor come we thither,
For truth and falsehood cannot live together.
But those that spurn at our contented state,
With viperous envy and degenerate hate;
Strive to produce us from that Lesbian bed,
Where with blind lust the fleshly letcher led,
On his own child, unnaturally did pray,
(For that foul fact) transform'd Nyctimene,
But seldom seen unto the public eye,
The shrieking Litch-owl that doth never cry,
But boding death, and quick herself inters
In darksome graves and hollow sepulchres.
Thus much, my sovereign, whence my fathers came.
Now for the cause of this my present shame,

Few words may serve a mischief to unfold,
For, in short speech long sorrow may be told.'
But for my freedom that I us'd of late,
To lance th' infection of a poison'd state,
Wherein my free and uncorrupted tongue,
Lightly gave taste of their injurious wrong,
The Kite, the Crow, and all the birds of prey,
That they liege people havoc night and day;
Rushing upon me, with most foul despite,
Thus have they drest me in this piteous plight."
The Eagle now, a serious ear that lent
To the religious and devout intent

"The Owl's speech to the Eagle.
Ovid's Metam. Lib. 5.

Ibid. Lib. 2.

Of the good Owl, whom too injurious fate
Had thus rewarded, doth commiserate
The poor distressed bird, hoping to hear
What all the rest through negligence and fear
Smother'd in silence, and had buried still,
Covering the sore of many a fester'd ill;
Not only grants him liberty of speech,
But further deigning kindly to beseech
The virtuous bird no longer to refrain:
Who thus embolden'd by his sovereign,
At length his silence resolutely brake,
And thus the Eagle's majesty bespake.

Mighty," said he, "though my plain homely
words

Have not that grace that elegance affords ;
Truth of itself is of sufficient worth,
Nor needs it gloss of art to set it forth.
These hoary plumes like moss upon that oak,
By seeing much, yet suffering more I took.
Long have I seen the world's unconstant change,
Joy moves not me, affliction is not strange.
I care not for contempt, I seek not fame,
Knowledge I love, and glory in the same.
Th' ambitious judgment-seat I never sought,
Where God is sold for coin, the poor for nought.
I am a helpless bird, a harmless wretch,
Wanting the power that needful is to teach.
Yet care of your great good and general weal,
Unlocks my tongue, and with a fervent zeal
Breaks through my lips, which otherwise were pent
To that severe grave Samnite's" document.
I know, before my harmless tale be told,
The gripple Vulture argues me too bold.
The Cormorant (whom spoil cannot suffice)
Sticks not to charge and slander me with lies.
The Parrot tax me to be vainly proud,

And all cry shame, the owl should be allow'd.
Which with this axiom doth them all confute,
'When kings did speak, what subject can be mute ?
"The latest winter that forewent our prime,

O mighty prince, upon a certain time

I got into thy palace on a night,

There to revive my melancholy spright,
And there (for darkness) waiting all alone,
To view (by night) what lords by day look on,
Where I beheld so many candles' light,
As they had mock'd the tapers of the night.
Where, for it grew upon the time of rest,
And many at sincerity profess'd,
Expecting prayer should presently proceed,
To ask forgiveness for the day's misdeed,
There in soft down the liquorous sparrow sat,
Pamper'd with meats, full spermatic and fat.
His drugs, his drinks, and sirups doth apply,
To heat his blood and quicken luxury;
Which by his billing female was embrac'd,
Clasping her wings about his wanton waist.
O God, thought I, what's here by light within,
Where some in darkness should have fear'd to sin?
"The Cormorant set closely to devise,
How he might compass strange monopolies.
The gaudy Goldfinch and his courtly mate,
My madam Bunting powerful in the state,
Quickly agreed, and but at little stick,
To share a thousand for a bishopric,
And scramble up some feathers from the Lark,
What though a pastor and a learned clerk?

10 The Owl's complaint to the king.

11 Pythagoras.