« EdellinenJatka »
“ They all are gone, and all with them is gone! “ He now is dead, and all his glorie gone, Ne ought to me remaines, but to lament
And all bis greatnes vapoured to nought, My long decay, which no man els doth mone, That as a glasse upon the water shone, And mourne my fall with dolefull dreriment. Which vanisht quite, so soone as it was sought: Yet it is comfort in great languishment,
His name is worne alreadie out of thought, To be bemoned with compassion kinde,
Ne anje poet seekes him to revire; And mitigates the anguish of the minde.
Yet manie poets honourd him alive. “ But me no man bewaileth, but in game,
“ Ne doth his Colin, carelesse Colin Cloute, Ne sheddeth teares from lamentable cie:
Care now his idle bagpipe up to raise, Nor anie lives that mentioneth my naine
Ne tell his sorrow to the listning rout (praise : To be remembred of posteritie,
Of shepheard groomes, which wont his songs to Save one, that maugre Fortunes iniurie,
Praise who so list, yet I will him dispraise, And Times decay, and Envies cruell tort,
Untill he quite him of this guiltie blame: Hath writ my record in true-seeming sort. Wake, shepheards boy, at length awake for shame. “ Cambden! the noorice of antiquitie,
" And wboso els did goodnes by him gaine, And lanterne unto late succeding age,
And who so els bis bounteous minde did trie, To see the light of simple veritie
Whether he shepheard be, or shepheards swaine, Buried in ruines, through the great outrage (For manie did, which doo it now denie) Of her owne people led with warlike rage : Awake, and to his song a part applie: Cambden! though Time all mon'ments obscure, And I, the whilest you mourne for his decease, Yet thy just labours ever shall endure.
Will with my mourning plaints your plaint increase. “ But whie (unhappie wight!) doo I thus crie, “ He dyde, and after him his brother dyde, And grieve that my remembrance quite is raced His brother prince, his brother noble peere, Out of the knowledge of posteritie,
That whilest he lived was of none envyde, And all my antique moniments defaced ?
And dead is now, as living, counted deare,
Deare unto all that true affection beare:
His noble spouse, and paragon of fame. “ It is not long, since these two eyes beheld “ He, whilest he lived, happie was through thee, A mightie prince, of most renowmed race,
And, being dead, is happie now much more: Whom England high in count of honour held, Living, that lincked chaunst with thee to bee, And greatest ones did sue to gaine his grace; And dead, because himn dead thou dost adore Of greatest ones he greatest in his place,
As living, and thy lost deare love deplore. Sate in the bosome of his soveraine,
So wbilst that thou, faire flower of chastitie, And right and loyall did his word maintaine. Dost live, by thee thy lord shall never die. “ I saw him die, I saw him die, as one
“ Thy lord shall never die, the whiles this verse Of the meane people, and brought foorth on beare; Shall live, and surely it shall live for ever: I saw him die, and no man left to mone
For ever it shall live, and shall rehearse
Though death his soule doo from bis bodie sever: Scarse anie left upon his lips to laie
And thou thy selfe herein shalt also live ; The sacred sod, or requiem to saie.
Such grace the Heavens doo to my verses gire. « () trustlesse state of miserable men,
“ Ne shall his sister, ne thy father die, That builde your blis on hope of earthly thing, Thy father, that good earle of rare renowne, And vainely thinke your selves balfe happie then, And noble patrone of weake povertie ; When painted faces with smooth flattering Whose great good deeds in countrey, and in towne, Doo fawne on you, and your wide praises sing; Have purchast him in Heaven an happie crowne: And, when the courting masker louteth lowe, Where he now liveth in eternall blis, Ilim true in heart and trustie to you trow! And left his sopne t'ensue those steps of his. “ All is but fained, and with oaker dide,
“ He, noble bud, his grandsires livelie hayre, That everie shower will wash and wipe away; Under the shadow of thy countenaunce All things doo change that onder Heaven abide, Now ginnes to shoote up fast, and flourish fayre And after death all friendship doth decaie.
In learned artes, and goodlie gouvernaunce, Therefore, what ever man bearst worldlie sway, That him to highest honour shall advaunce. Living, on God and on thy selfe relie;
Brave impe of Bedford, grow apace in bountie, For, when thou diest, all shall with thee die. And count of wisedome more than of thy countie! “ He now is dead, and all is with him dead, “ Ne may I let thy husbands sister die, Save what in Heavens store house he uplaid: That goodly ladie, sith she eke did spring His hope is faild, and come to passe his dread, Out of his stocke and famous familie, And evill men (now dead) his deedes upbraid: Whose praises I to future age doo sing; Spite bites the dead, that living vever baid. And forth out of her happie womb did bring He now is gone, the whiles the foxe is crept The sacred brood of learning and all honour; [her. Into the hole, the which the badger swept. In whom the Heavens powrde all their gifts upok
“ Most gentle spirite breathed from above, " But such as neither of themselves can sing, Out of the bosome of the Makers blis,
Nor yet are sung of others for reward, In whom all bountie and all vertuous love
Die in obscure oblivion, as the thing Appeared in their native propertis,
Which never was, ne ever with regard And did enrich that noble breast of his
Their names shall of the later age be heard, With treasure passing all this worldës worth, But shall in rustie darknes ever lie, Worthie of Heaven it selfe, which brought it forth. Unles they mentioned be with infamie. “ His blessed spirite, full of power divine
“ What booteth it to have beene rich alive? And influence of all celestiall grace,
What to be great? what to be gracious ? Loathing this sinfull Eartb and earthlie slime, When after death no token doth survive Fled backe too soone unto his native place; Of former beeing in this mortall hous, Too soone for all that did his love embrace, But sleepes in dust dead and inglorious, Too soone for all this wretched world, whom he Like beast, whose breath but in his nostrels is, Robd of all right and true nobilitie.
And hath no hope of happinesse or blis. “ Yet, ere his happie soule to Heaven went “ How manie great ones may remembred be, Out of this fleshlie gaole, he did devise
Which in their daies most famouslie did florish Unto his heavenlie Maker to present
Of whome no word we heare, nor signe now see, His bodie, as a spotles sacrifise;
But as things wipt out with a sponge do perishe, And chose, that guiltie hands of enemies
Because they living cared not to cherishe Should powre forth th' offring of his guiltles blood : No gentle wits, through pride or covetize, So life exchanging for his countries good.
Which might their names for ever memorize! “ O noble spirite, live there ever blessed,
“ Provide therefore (ye princes) whilst ye live, The worlds late wonder, and the Heavens new joy; That of the Muses ye may friended bee, Live ever there, and leave me here distressed Which unto men eternitie do give; With mortall cares and cumbrous worldes anoy! For they be daughters of dame Memorie But, where thou dost that happines enioy,
And love, the father of Eternitic, Bid me, O bid me quicklie come to thee,
And do those men in golden thrones repose, That happie there I maie thee alwaies see ! Whose merits they to glorifie do chose. “ Yet, whilest the Fates affoord me vitall breath, “ The seven-fold yron gates of grisly Hell, I will it spend in speaking of thy praise,
And horrid house of sad Proserpina, And sing to thee, untill that timelie death
They able are with power of mightie spell By Heavens doome doo ende my earthlie daies : To breake, and thence the soules to bring awaie Thereto doo thou my humble spirite raise,
Out of dread darkenesse to eternall day, And into me that sacred breath inspire,
And them immortall make which els would die Which thou there breathest perfect and entire. In foule forgetfulnesse, and nameles lie. “ Then will I sing ; but who can better sing “ So whilome raised they the puissant brood Than thine owne sister, peerles lady bright, Of golden-girt Alcmena, for great merite, Which to thee sings with deep barts sorrowing, Out of the dust, to which the Oetæan wood Sorrowing tempered with deare delight,
Had him consum'd, and spent bis vitall spirite, That her to heare I feele my feeble spright To highest Heaven, where now he doth inherite Robbed of sense, and ravished with ioy,
All happinesse in Hebes silver bowre, O sad ioy made of mourning and anoy !
Chosen to be her dearest paramoure. “ Yet will I sing; but who can better sing “ So raisde they eke faire Ledaes warlike twinnes, Than thou thy selfe, thine owne selfes valiance, And interchanged life unto them lent, That, whilst thou livedst, madest the forests ring, That, when th' one dies, the other then beginnes And fields resownd, and flockes to leap and daunce, To shew in Heaven his brightnes orient ; And shepheards leave their lambs unto mischaunce, And they, for pittie of the sad wayment, To runne thy shrill Arcadian pipe to heare: Which Orpheus for Eurydice did make, O happie were those dayes, thrice happie were ! Her back againe to life sent for his sake. “ But now more happie thou, and wretched wee, “ So happie are they, and so fortunate, Which want the wonted sweetnes of thy voice, Whom the Pierian sacred sisters love, Whiles thou now in Elysian fields so free,
That freed from bands of impacable fate, With Orpheus, and with Linus, and the choice And power of death, they live for aye above, Of all that ever did in rimes reioyce,
Where mortall wreakes their blis may not remove : Conversest, and doost heare their heavenlie layes, But with the gods, for former vertues meede, And they heare thine, and thine doo better praise. On nectar and ambrosia do feede. “ So there thou livest, singing evermore,
“ For deeds doe die, how ever noblie donne, And here thou livest, being ever song
And thoughts of men do as then selves decay: Of us, which living loved thee afore,
But wise wordes taught in numbers for to runne, And now thee worship mongst that blessed throng Recorded by the Muses, live for ay; Of heavenlie poets and beroës strong.
Ne may with storming showers be washt away, So thou both here and there immortall art, Ne bitter-breathing windes with harmfull blast, And everie where through excellent desart. Nor age, nor envie, shall them ever wast.
“In vaine doo earthly princes then, in vaine, Thus having ended all her piteous plaint,
And all astonished with deepe dismay
But sate long time in sencelesse sad affright, For how can mortall immortalitie give?
Looking still, if I might of her have sight. “ Such one Mausolus made, the worlds great wonder, which when I missed, having looked long, But now no remnant doth thereof remaine: My thought returned greeved bome againe, Such one Marcellus, but was torne with thunder: Renewing her complaint with passion strong, Such one Lisippus, but is worne with raine: For ruth of that same womans piteous paine ; Such one king Edmond, but was rent for gaine. Whose wordes recording in my troubled braine, All such vaine moniments of earthlie masse, I felt such anguish wound my feeble heart, Devour'd of Time, in time to nought doo passe. That frosen horror ran through everie part. “ But Fame with golden wings aloft doth flie, So inlie greering in my groning brest, Above the reach of ruinous decay,
And deepelie muzing at her doubtfull speach, And with brave plumes doth beate the azure skie, Whose meaning much I labored foorth to wreste, Admir'd of base-borne men from farre away: Being above my slender reasons reach; Then who so will with vertuous deeds assay At length, by demonstration me to teach, To mount to Heaven, on Pegasus must ride, Before mine eies strange sights presented were, And with sweete poets verse be glorifide.
Like tragicke pageants seeining to appeare. “ For not to have been dipt in Lethe lake,
That all, which did the same from farre beholde,
The holie brethren falslie to have praid. “ Therefore in this halfe happie I doo read
But th' altare, on the which this image staid, Good Melibæ, that hath a poet got
Was (O great pitie !) built of brickle clay, To sing his living praises being dead,
That shortly the foundation decaid, Deserving never here to be forgot,
With showres of Heaven and tempests worne away; In spight of envie, that his deeds would spot:
Then downe it fell, and low in ashes lay, Since whose decease, learning lies unregarded,
Scorned of everie one, which by it went;
That I, it seeing, dearelie did lament.
Built all of richest stone that might bee found, Who whilome was alive the wisest wight.
And nigh unto the Heavens in height upreared, But now his wisedome is disprooved quite;
But placed on a plot of sandie ground: For he, that now welds all things at his will,
Not that great towre, which is so much renownd Scorns th' one and th' other in his deeper skill. For tongues confusion in Holie Writ,
King Ninus worke, might be compar'd to it. « () griefe of griefes ! O gall of all good heartes !
But O vaine labours of terrestriall wit, To see that vertue should dispised bee
That buildes so stronglie on so frayle a soyle, Of him, that first was raisde for vertuous parts, As with each storme does fall away, and fit, And now, broad spreading like an aged tree, And gives the fruit of all your travailes toyle, Lets none shoot up that nigh him planted bee:
To be the pray of Tyme, and fortunes spoyle! I let the man, of whom the Muse is scorned, I saw this towre fall sodainelie to dust, Nor alive nor dead be of the Muse adorned !
That nigh with griefe thereof my heart was brust. “ () vile worlds trust! that with such vaine illusion
Then did I see a pleasant paradize,
Such as on Earth man could not more devize,
Not, that, which Merlin by his magicke slights And in my case their owne ensample see.
Made for the gentle squire, to entertaine
His fayre Belphebe, could this gardine staine. “ And who so els that sits in highest seate
But O short pleasure bought with lasting paine ! Of this worlds glorie, worshipped of all,
Why will hereafter anie flesh delight
Since that I sawe this gardine wasted quite, And his owne end unto remembrance call; That where it was scarce seemed anie sigbt? That of like ruine he may warned bee,
That I, which once that beautie did beholde, And in himselfe be moov'd to pittie mee."- Could not from teares my melting eyes with-holdt.
There he most sweetly sung the prophecie Soone after this a giaunt came in place,
Of his owne death in dolefull elegie. Of wondrous powre, and of exceeding stature,
At last, when all his mourning melodie That none durst vewe the horror of his face,
He ended had, that both the shores resounded, Yet was he milde of spach, and meeke of nature:
Feeling the fit that bim forewarnd to die, Not he, which in despight of his Creatour
With loftie flight above the Earth he bounded, With railing tearmes defied the lewish hoast,
And out of sight to highest Heaven mounted, Might with this mightie one in hugenes boast;
Where now he is become an heavenly signe; For from the one he could to th' other coast
There now the ioy is his, here sorrow mine. Stretch his strong thighes, and th’ocean overstride,
II. And reatch his band into his enemies hoast.
Whilest thus I looked, loe! adowne the lee But see the end of pompe and fleshlie pride!
I saw an harpe stroong all with silver twyne, One of his feete unwares from him did slide,
And made of golde and costlie yvorie, That downe hee fell into the deepe abisse,
Swimming, that whilome seemed to have been Where drownd with him is all his earthlie blisse.
The harpe, on which Dan Orpheus was seene V.
Wylde beasts and forrests after him to lead,
But was th' harpe of Philisides now dead. Then did I see a bridge, made all of golde,
At length out of the river it was reard Over the sea from one to other side,
And borne above the cloudes to be divin'd, Withouten prop or pillour it t' upholde,
Whilst all the way most heavenly noyse was heard But like the coulored rainbowe arched wide :
Of the strings, stirred with the warbling wind, Not that great arche, with Traian ediside,
That wrought both joy and sorrow in my mind : To be a wonder to all age ensuing,
So now in Heaven a signe it doth appeare, Was matchable to this in equall vewing.
The Harpe well knowne beside the Northern Beare.
It almost drowned was, and done to nought,
That sight thereof much griev'd my pensive thought. I saw two beares, as white as anie milke,
At length, when most in perill it was brought, Lying together in a mightie cave.
Two angels, downe descending with swift flight, Of milde aspect, and haire as soft as silke, Out of the swelling streame it lightly caught, That salvage nature seemed not to have.
And twixt their blessed armes it carried quight
That might for anie princes couche be red,
And deckt with daintie flowres, as if it shold Henceforth all worlds felicitie I hate.
Be for some bride, her ioyous night to hold:
Therein a goodly virgine sleeping lay; 9 Much was I troubled in my heavie spright, A fairer wight saw never summers day. At sight of these sad spectacles forepast,
I heard a vovce that called farre away, That all my senses were bereaved quight,
And her awaking bad her quickly dight, And I in minde remained sore agast,
For lo! her bridegrome was in readie ray
Still as I gazed, I beheld where stood
The same that was bred of Medusaes blood,
On which Dan Perseus, borne of heavenly seed,
The faire Andromeda from perill freed : 1.
Full mortally this knight ywounded was,
That streames of blood foorth towed on the gras: Upon that famous rivers further shore,
Yet was he deckt (small joy to him alas !)
And with rich spoyles, which late he did purchas A fairer one in all the goodlie criew
Through brave atcheirements from his enemies : Of white Strimonian brood might no man view: Fainting at last through long infirmities,
Hesmote his steed, that straight to Heaven him bore, honouring you they might know me, and by
knowing me they might honor you. Vonchsafe, VI.
noble lady, to accept this simple remembrance, Lastly I saw an arke of purest golde
though not worthy of your self, yet such, as per.
dence of your owne excellent deserts. So recom-
Your la: humbly ever.
TEARES OF THE MUSES.
Which late ye powred forth as ye did sit
Beside the silver springs of Helicone,
Ythundered, through loves avengefull wrath,
Beyond the compasse of his pointed path,
Of you his mournfull sisters was lamented, And loath this drosse of sinfull worlds desire! Such mournfull tunes were never since invented.
DEDICATED TO THE
Nor since that faire Calliope did lose
Whom all the Muses did bewaile long space;
Was ever heard such wayling in this place.
For all their groves, which with the heavenly noyses
Did now rebound with nought but rufull cries,
And yelling shrieks throwne up into the skies. Most brave and noble ladie ; the things, that the trembling streames which wont in chanels make ye so much honored of the world as ye bee, To romble gently downe with murmur soft, (cleare are such, as (without my simple lines testimonie). And were by them right tunefull taught to beare
A bases part amongst their consorts oft; are throughlie knowen to all men ; namely, your Now, forst to overflowe with brackish teares, excellent beautie, your vertuous behavior, and with troublous noyse did dull their daintie eares. your noble match with that most honourable lord, the very paterne of right nobilitie: but the The joyous nymphes and lightfoote Faëries
Which thether came to heare their musick sweet, canses, for which ye have thus deserved of me to
And to the measure of their melodies be honoured, (if honour it be at all) are, both Did learne to move their nimble-shifting feete; your particular bounties, and also some private Now, hearing them so heavily lament, bands of affinitie, which it batle pleased your la
Like heavily lamenting from them went. diship to acknowledge. Of which whenas I found And all that els was wont to worke delight my selfe in no part woorthie, I devised this last Through the divine infusion of their skill, slender meanes, both to intimate my humble af. And all that els seemd faire and fresh in sight,
So made by nature for to serve their will, fection to your ladiship, and also to make the Was turned now to dismall heavinesse, same universallie knowen to the world; that by Was turned now to dreadfull uglinesse.