▼PON THESE POEMS OF HIS DEAREST BROTHER,

SIR IOHN BEAUMONT, BARONET.

WHEN lines are drawn greater than nature, art Commands the object and the eye to part, Bids them to keepe at distance, know their place, Where to receiue, and where to giue their grace; I am too neere thee, Beaumont, to define Which of those lineaments is most diuine, And to stand farther off from thee, I chuse In silence rather to applaude thy Muse, And lose my censure; 'tis enough for mee To ioy, my pen was taught to moue by thee.

GEORGE FORTESCUE.

ON THE HONORED POEMS OF HIS HONORED FRIEND, SIR IOHN BEAUMONT, BARONEF. THIS booke will liue; it hath a genius: this Aboue his reader, or his prayser, is. Hence, then, prophane: here needs no words' exIn bulwarkes, rau'lins, ramparts, for defense, Such, as the creeping common pioners vse

[pense

When they doe sweat to fortifie a Muse. Though I confesse a Beaumont's booke to bee The bound, and frontier of our poëtrie; And doth deserue all muniments of praise,

That art, or ingine, on the strength can raise. Yet, who dares offer a redoubt to reare?

To cut a dyke? or sticke a stake vp, here, Before this worke? where Enuy hath not cast A trench against it, nor a battry plac't? Stay, till she make her vaine approches. Then If, maymed, she come off, 'tis not of men This fort of so impregnable accesse,

But higher power, as spight could not make lesse, Nor flatt'ry! but secur'd, by the author's name, Defies, what's crosse to piety, or good fame. And like a hallow'd temple, free from taint Of ethnicisme, makes his Muse a saint.

BEN. JONSON.

TO THE DEARE REMEMBRANCE OF HIS NOBLE FRIEND,
SIR JOHN BEAUMONT, BARONET.
THIS Posthumus, from the braue parents' name,
Likely to be the heire of so much fame,
Can haue at all no portion by my prayse:
Onely this poor branch of my with'ring bayes
I offer to it; and am very glad,

I yet haue this; which if I better had,
My loue should build an altar, and thereon
Should offer vp such wreaths as long agone,
Those daring Grecians, and proud Romans, crown'd;
Giuing that honour to their most renown'd.

But that braue world is past, and we are light,
After those glorious dayes, into the night
Of these base times, which not one heröe haue,
Onely an empty title, which the graue
Shall soone deuoure; whence it no more shall sound,
Which neuer got vp higher than the ground.

Thy care for that which was not worth thy breath, Brought on too soone thy much lamented death. But Heau'n was kind, and would not let thee see The plagues that must vpon this nation be, By whom the Muses haue neglected bin, Which shall adde weight and measure to their sinne;

And have already had this curse from vs,
That in their pride they should grow barbarous

There is no splendour, that our pens can giue
By our most labor'd lines, can make thee liue
Like to thine owne, which able is to raise
So lasting pillars to prop vp thy prayse,
As time shall hardly shake, vntill it shall
Ruine those things, that with it selfe must fall.
MI. DRAYTON

AD POSTHUMUM OPUS D. 10. BELLO-MONTIJ,

EQUITIS AURATI ET BARONETTI, VIRI NOELISSIMI
HENDECASYLLABON

LECTUM discubui; biceps gemello
Parnassus bijugo imminebat: vnde
Fontes desiliunt leues, loquaces;
Pellucent vitreo liquore fontes.
Sudo sub Ioue, sydere & secundo
Discumbo. Teneras rosas pererro
Narcissum, violas odore gratas,
Vnguento Ambrosio has & has refectas,
Quas inter Philomela cantitillat
Præpes, blandula, mellilinguis ales.
Quas inter volitant Apollinesque,
Et Musæ Veneresque mille, mille.

Insomne hoc sibi somnium quid audet?
Altùm effare noëma bello-montis :
Effatum euge! Poëma Bello-monti est
Dium, castalium nitens, politum ;
Libatum salibus, lepore tinctum.
Decurrens velut amnis alti monte
Feruet delicijs, ruit profundo
Beaumontus latice. Altiùs resultat
Fertur, nec tenui nec vsitatâ
Pennâ per liquidam ætheram, biformis.
Hic Phoebi deus est, decus cohortis
Summum Palladiæ, iubar sororum,
Ipse & flos Venerum, resurgo; legi.

PH. KIN.

VPON THE HONORED POEMS OF HIS VNKNOWNE FRIEND, SIR JOHN BEAUMONT, BARONET.

I KNEW thee not, I speake it to my shame:
But by that cleare, and equall voyce of fame,
Which (with the Sunne's bright course) did ioyntly
Thy glorious name about each hemisphere. [beare
Whiles I, who had confin'd my selfe to dwell
Within the straite bounds of an obscure cell,
Tooke in those pleasing beames of wit and worth,
Which, where the Sunne could neuer shine, breake
Wherewith I did refresh my weaker sight, [forth:
When others bath'd themselues in thy full light.
But when the dismall rumour was once spred,
That struck all knowing soules, of Beaumont dead:
Abone thy best friends 'twas my benefit,

To know thee onely by thy liuing wit;
And whereas others might their losse deplore,
Thou lia'st to me iust as thou didst before.
In all that we can value great or good,
Which were not in these cloathes of flesh and blood,
Thou now hast laid aside, but in that mind,
That onely by it selfe could be confin'd,
Thou liu'st to me, and shalt for euer raine,
In both the issues of thy blood and braiue.

LA. GL

Replies: "I should haue been asham'd to tell

BOSWORTH FIELD.

THE winter's storme of ciuill warre I sing,
Whose end is crown'd with our eternall spring,
Where roses ioin'd, their colours mixe in one,
And armies fight no more for England's throne.
Thou, gracious Lord, direct my feeble pen,
Who (from the actions of ambitious men)
Hast by thy goodnesse drawne our joyfull good,
And made sweet flowres and oliues grow from blood,
While we, delighted with this faire release,
May clime Parnassus, in the dayes of peace.

The king (whose eyes were neuer fully clos'd, Whose minde opprest, with feareful dreames suppos'd,

That he in blood had wallow'd all the night)
Leapes from his restlesse bed, before the light:
Accursed Tirell is the first he spies,

Whom threatning with his dagger, thus he cries.
"How darst thou, villaine, so disturbe my sleepe?
Were not the smother'd children buried deepe?
And bath the ground againe been ript by thee,
That I their rotten carkases might see?"
The wretch, astonisht, hastes away to slide,
(As damned ghosts themselues in darkenesse hide)
And calles vp three, whose counsels could asswage
The sudden swellings of the prince's rage:
Ambitious Louell, who, to gaine his grace,
Had stain'd the honour of his noble race:
Perfidious Catesby, by whose curious skill,
The law was taught to speake his master's will:
And Ratcliffe, deepely learn'd in courtly art,
Who best could search into his sou'raigne's hart:
Affrighted, Richard labours to relate

His hideous dreames, as signes of haplesse fate :
"Alas!" said they, "such fictions children feare,
These are not terrours, shewing danger neare,
But motiues sent by some propitious power,
To make you watchfull at this early hower:
These proue that your victorious care preuents
Your slouthfull foes, that slumber in their tents.
This precious time must not in vaine be spent,
Which God (your helpe) by heau'nly meanes hath
lent."

He (by these false coniectures) much appeas'd,
Contemning fancies, which his minde diseas'd,

Fond dreames to wise men: whether Heau'n or

Hell,

Or troubled nature, these effects bath wrought:
I know, this day requires another thought,
If some resistlesse strength my cause should crosse
Feare will increase, and not redeeme the losse ;
All dangers, clouded with the mist of feare,
Seeme great farre off, but lessen comming neare.
Away, ye black illusions of the night,
If ye combin'd with Fortune, haue the might
To hinder my designes: ye shall not barre
My courage seeking glorious death in warre."
Thus being chear'd, he calls aloud for armes,
And bids that all should rise, whom Morpheus
charmes.

"Bring me," saith he, "the harnesse that I wore
At Teuxbury, which from that day no more
Hath felt the battries of a ciuill strife,
Nor stood betweene destruction and my life."
Vpon his brest-plate he beholds a dint,
Which in that field young Edward's sword did
print >

This stirres remembrance of his heinous guilt,
When he that prince's blood so foulely spilt.
Now fully arm'd, he takes his helmet bright,
Which, like a twinkling starre, with trembling light
Sends radiant lustre through the darksome aire;
This maske will make his wrinkled visage faire.
But when his head is couer'd with the steele,
He telles his seruants, that his temples feele
Deepe piercing stings, which breed vnusuall paines,
And of the heauy burden much complaines.
Some marke his words, as tokens fram'd t' expresse
The sharpe conclusion of a sad successe.
Then going forth, and finding in his way
A souldier of the watch, who sleeping lay,
Enrag'd to see the wretch neglect his part,
He strikes a sword into his trembling heart;
The hand of death, and iron dulnesse, takes
Those leaden eyes, which natʼrall ease forsakes :
The king this morning sacrifice commends,
And for example, thus the fact defends :
"I leaue him, as I found him, fit to keepe
The silent doores of euerlasting sleepe."

Still Richmond slept: for worldly care and feare Haue times of pausing, when the soule is cleare,

While Heau'n's Directer, whose reuengefull brow
Would to the guilty head no rest allow,
Lookes on the other part with milder eyes:
At his command an angel swiftly flies

From sacred Truth's perspicuous gate, to bring
A crystall vision on his golden wing.

This lord, thus sleeping, thought he saw and knew
His lamblike vnkle, whom that tiger slew,
Whose powerfull words encourage him to fight:
"Goe on, just scourge of murder, vertue's light,
The combate, which thou shalt this day endure,
Makes England's peace for many ages sure:
Thy strong inuasion cannot be withstood,
The Earth assists thee with the cry of blood;
The Heav'n shall blesse thy hopes, and crowne thy
ioyes,

See, how the fiends, with loud and dismall noyse,
(Presaging vultures, greedy of their prey)
On Richard's tent their scaly wings display."
The holy king then offer'd to his view
A liuely tree, on which three branches grew:
But when the hope of fruit had made him glad,
All fell to dust: at which the earle was sad ;
Yet comfort comes againe, when from the roote
He sees a bough into the north to shoote,
Which, nourisht there, extends it selfe from thence,
And girds this iland with a firme defence:
There he beholds a high and glorious throne,
Where sits a king by lawrell garlands knowne,
Like bright Apollo in the Muses' quires,
His radiant eyes are watchfull heauenly fires;
Beneath his feete pale Enuie bites her chaine,
And snaky Discord whets her sting in vaine.
"Thou seest," said Henry, "wise and potent lames,
This, this is he, whose happy vnion tames
The sauage feudes, and shall those lets deface,
Which keepe the bordrers from a deare imbrace:
Both nations shall, in Britaine's royall crowne,
Their diffring names, the signes of faction drowne;
The siluer streames which from this spring in-
crease,

Bedew all Christian hearts with drops of peace;
Obserue how hopefull Charles is borne t' asswage
The winds, that would disturbe this golden age.
When that great king shall full of glory leaue
The Earth as base, then may this prince receiue
The diadem, without his father's wrong,
May take it late, and may possesse it long;
Aboue all Europe's princes shine thou bright,
O God's selected care, and man's delight!"
Here gentle sleepe forsooke his clouded browes,
And full of holy thoughts, and pious vowes,
He kist the ground assoone as he arose,
When watchfull Digby, who among his foes
Had wanderd vnsuspected all the night,
Reports that Richard is prepar'd to fight.
Long since the king had thought it time to send
For trusty Norfolke, his vndaunted friend,
Who, hasting from the place of his abode,
Found at the doore a world of papers strow'd;
Some would affright him from the tyrant's aide,
Affirming that his master was betray'd;
Some laid before him all those bloody deeds,
From which a line of sharpe reuenge proceeds,
With much compassion, that so braue a knight
Should serue a lord, against whom angels fight;
And others put suspicions in his minde,
That Richard, most obseru'd, was most vnkind.
The duke awhile these cautious words reuolues
With serious thoughts, and thus at last resolues:

"If all the campe proue traytors to my lord,
Shall spotlesse Norfolke falsifie his word?
Mine oath is past, I swore t' vphold his crowne,
And that shall swim, or I with it will drowne.
It is too late now to dispute the right;
Dare any tongue, since Yorke spred forth his light,
Northumberland, or Buckingham, defame,
Two valiant Cliffords, Roos, or Beaumonts, name,
Because they in the weaker quarrell die?
They had the king with them, and so haue I.
But eu'ry eye the face of Richard shunnes,
For that foule murder of his brother's sonnes :
Yet lawes of knighthood gaue me not a sword
To strike at him, whom all with ioynt accord
Haue made my prince, to whom I tribute bring:
I hate his vices, but adore the king.
Victorious Edward, if thy soule can beare
Thy seruant Howard, I deuoutly sweare,
That to haue sau'd thy children from that day,
My hopes on Earth should willingly decay;
Would Glouster then my perfect faith had tryed,
And made two graues, when noble Hastings died."
This said, his troopes he into order drawes,
Then doubled haste redeemes his former pause:
So stops the sayler for a voyage bound,
When on the sea he heares the tempests sound,
Till pressing hunger to remembrance sends,
That on his course his houshold's life depends:
With this he cleares the doubts that vext his minde,
And puts his ship to mercy of the winde.

The duke's stout presence and couragious lookes,
Were to the king as falls of sliding brookes,
Which bring a gentle and delightfull rest
To weary eyes, with grieuous care opprest:
He bids that Norfolke and his hopefull sonne
(Whose rising fame in armes this day begun)
Should leade the vantguard: for so great command
He dares not trust in any other hand;
The rest he to his owne aduice referres,
And as the spirit in that body stirres;
Then putting on his crowne, a fatall signe,
(So offer'd beasts neere death in garlands shine)
He rides about the rankes, and striues t' inspire
Each brest with part of his vnwearied fire:
To those who had his brother's seruants been,
And had the wonders of his valour seene,
He saith: "My fellow souldiers, tho' your swords
Are sharpe, and need not whetting by my words;
Yet call to minde those many glorious dayes,
In which we treasur'd vp immortall prayse;
If when I seru'd, Į euer fled from foe,
Fly ye from mine, let me be punisht so:
But if my father, when at first he try'd,
How all his sonnes could shining blades abide,
Found me an eagle, whose vndazled eyes
Affront the beames which from the steele arise,
And if I now in action teach the same, [name $
Know, then, ye haue but chang'd your gen'rall's
Be still your sélues, ye fight against the drosse
Of those, that oft haue runne from you with losses
How many Somersets, dissention's brands,
Haue felt the force of our reuengefull hands?
From whome this youth, as from a princely floud,
Deriues his best, yet not vntainted bloud:
Haue our assaults made Lancaster to droupe?
And shall this Welshman, with his ragged troupe,
Subdue the Norman and the Saxon line,
That onely Merlin may be thought diuine?
See, what a guide these fugitiues haue chose!
Who, bred among the French, our ancient foes,

Forgets the English language, and the ground, And knowes not what our drums and trumpets

sound."

To others' minds their willing oaths he drawes,
He tells his just decrees, and healthfull lawes,
And makes large proffers of his future grace.
Thus hauing ended, with as chearefull face,
As Nature, which his stepdame still was thought,
Could lend to one, without proportion wrought,
Some, with loud shouting, make the valleyes ring,
But most with murmur sigh, "God saue the king."
Now carefull Henry sends his seruant Bray
To Stanley, who accounts it safe to stay,
And dares not promise, lest his haste should bring
His sonne to death, now pris'ner with the king.
About the same time, Brakenbury came,
And thus to Stanley saith, in Richard's name:
"My lord, the king salutes you, and commands
That to his ayde you bring your ready bands,
Or else he sweares by him that sits on high,
Before the armies ioyne, your sonne shall die."
At this the lord stood, like a man that heares
The judge's voyce, which condemnation beares;
Till, gath'ring vp his spirits, he replies:

My fellow Hastings' death bath made me wise, More than my dreame could him, for I no more Will trust the tushes of the angry bore;

If with my George's bloud he staine his throne,
I thanke my God, I haue more sonnes than one:
Yet, to secure his life, I quiet stand
Against the king, not lifting vp my hand."
The messenger departs of hope deny'd.
Then noble Stanley, taking Bray aside,
Saith: "Let my sonne proceede, without despaire,
Assisted by his mother's almes, and prayre,
God will direct both him and me to take
Best courses, for that blessed woman's sake."
The earle, by this delay, was not inclin'd
To feare nor anger, knowing Stanley's mind;
But, calling all his chiefe commanders neare,
He boldly speakes, while they attentiue heare:
"It is in vaine, braue friends, to shew the right
Which we are forc'd to seeke by ciuill fight.
Your swords are brandisht in a noble cause,
To free your country from a tyrant's iawes.
What angry planet, what disastrous signe,
Directs Plantagenet's afflicted line?
Ah! was it not enough, that mutuall rage
In deadly battels should this race ingage,
Till by their blowes themselues they fewer make,
And pillers fall, which France could neuer shake?
But must this crooked monster now be found,
To lay rough hands on that vnclosed wound?
His secret plots haue much increast the flood;
He, with his brother's and his nephews' blood,
Hath stain'd the brightnesse of his father's flowres,
And made his owne white rose as red as ours.
This is the day, whose splendour puts to flight
Obscuring clouds, and brings an age of light.
We see no hindrance of those wished times,
But this vsurper, whose depressing crimes
Will driue him from the mountaine where he
stands,

So that he needs must fall without our hands,
In this we happy are, that by our armes,
Both Yorke and Lancaster reuenge their harmes.
Here Henry's seruants ioyne with Edward's friends,
And leaue their priuat griefes for publike ends."
Thus ceasing, he implores th' Almightie's grace,
And bids, that euery captaine take his place.

His speach was answer'd with a gen'rall noyse Of acclamations, doubtlesse signes of ioyes Which souldiers vtterd, as they forward went, The sure forerunners of a faire euent:

So when the Winter to the Spring bequeathes The rule of time, and mild Fauonius breathes, A quire of swans to that sweete musicke sings, The ayre resounds the motion of their wings, When ouer plaines they flie in orderd rankes, To sport themselues vpon Caïster's bankes.

Bold Oxford leades the vantguard vp amaine,
Whose valiant offers heretofore were vaine,
When he his loue to Lancaster exprest,
But now, with more indulgent fortune blest,
His men he toward Norfolke's quarter drew,
And straight the one the other's ensignes knew;
For they in seu'rall armies were display'd,
This oft in Edward's, that in Henry's ayde:
The sad remembrance of those bloudy fights,
Incenst new anger in these noble knights.
A marish lay betweene, which Oxford leaues
Vpon his right hand, and the Sunne receiues
Behind him, with aduantage of the place;
For Norfolke must endure it on his face,
And yet his men aduance their speares and swords
Against this succour, which the Heau'n affords;
His horse and foote possest the field in length,
While bowmen went before them, for their strength;
Thus marching forth, they set on Oxford's band,
He feares their number, and with strict command,
His souldiers closely to the standard drawes:
Then Howard's troupes, amaz'd, begin to pause;
They doubt the slights of battell, and prepare
To guard their valour with a trench of care.
This sudden stop made warlike Vere more bold,
To see their fury in a moment cold,

His rankes he in a larger forme displayes,
Which all were archers counted in those dayes,
The best of English souldiers, for their skill
Could guide their shafts according to their will;
The feather'd wood they from their bowes let flie,
No arrow fell, but caus'd some man to die:
So painfull bees, with forward gladnesse, striue
To ioyne themselues in throngs before the hiue,
And with obedience till that hour attend,
When their commander shall his watchword send:
Then to the winds their tender sailes they yield,
Depresse the flowres, depopulate the field:"
Wise Norfolke, to auoyde these shafts the more,
Contriues his battaile thin, and sharpe before;
He thus attempts to pierce into the hart,
And breake the orders of the aduerse part:
As when the cranes direct their flight on high,
To cut their way, they in a trigon flie,
Which pointed figure may with ease diuide
Opposing blasts, through which they swiftly glide.
But now the wings make haste to Oxford's ayde,
The left by valiant Sauage was display'd;
His lusty souldiers were attir'd in white,
They moue like drifts of snow, whose sudden fright
Constraines the weary passenger to stay,
And, beating on his face, confounds his way.
Braue Talbot led the right, whose grandsire's name
Was his continuall spurre to purchase fame:
Both these rusht in, while Norfolke, like a wall,
Which, oft with engines crackt, disdaines to fall,
Maintaines his station by defensiue fight,
Till Surrey pressing forth, with youthfull might,
Sends many shadowes to the gates of Death.
When dying mouths had gaspt forth purple breath,