 | The Works of Michael Drayton |  |
493
[UNCOLLECTED POEMS]
Mr. M.D. TO THE AUTHOR.
Such was old Orpheus cunning,That sencelesse things drew neere him,
And heards of beastes to heare him,
The stock, the stone, the Oxe, the Asse came running.
MORLEY! but this enchaunting
To thee, to be the Musick-God is wanting.
And yet thou needst not feare him;
Draw thou the Shepherds still and Bonny-lasses,
And envie him not stocks, stones, Oxen, Asses.
OF THE WORKE AND TRANSLATION.
[_]
[From Anthony Munday's Second Booke of Primaleon of Greece . . . . Translated out of French, 1596.]
If in opinion of judiciall wit,
Primaleons sweet Invention well deserve:
Then he (no lesse) which hath translated it,
Which doth his sense, his forme, his phrase observe.
Primaleons sweet Invention well deserve:
Then he (no lesse) which hath translated it,
Which doth his sense, his forme, his phrase observe.
And in true method of his home-borne stile,
(Following the fashion of a French conceate)
Hath brought him heere into this famous Ile,
Where but a Stranger now hath made his seate.
He lives a Prince, and comming in this sort,
Shall to his Countrey of your fame report.
(Following the fashion of a French conceate)
Hath brought him heere into this famous Ile,
Where but a Stranger now hath made his seate.
He lives a Prince, and comming in this sort,
Shall to his Countrey of your fame report.
M. D.
494
[The curious eye that over-rashly lookes]
The curious eye that over-rashly lookes,And gives no tast nor feeling to the mind,
Robs it own selfe, & wrongs those labored bookes
Wherein the soule might greater comfort find;
But when that sence doth play the busie Bee,
And for the honny, not the poyson reeds,
Then for the labour it receaves the fee,
When as the minde on heavenly sweetnes feeds;
This doe thine eye; and if it find not heere
Such precious comforts as may give content,
And shall confesse the travaile not too deere,
Nor idle howers that in this worke were spent,
Never heereafter will I ever looke
For thing of worth in any morrall booke.
M. D.
TO HIS FRIEND, MASTER CHR. M. his Booke.
Like as a man, on some adventure boundHis honest friendes, their kindnes to expresse,
T'incourage him of whome the maine is own'd;
Some venture more, and some adventure lesse,
That if the voyage (happily) be good:
They his good fortune freely may pertake;
If otherwise it perrish in the flood,
Yet like good freinds theirs perish'd for his sake.
On thy returne I put this little forth,
My chaunce with thine indifferently to prove,
Which though (I knowe) not fitting with thy worth,
Accept it yet since it proceedes from love;
And if thy fortune prosper, I may see
I have some share, though most returne to thee.
Mich: Drayton.
495
ROWLANDS MADRIGALL.
Faire Love rest thee heere,
Never yet was morne so cleere,
Sweete be not unkinde,
Let me thy favour finde,
Or else for love I die.
Harke this pretty bubling spring,
How it makes the Meadowes ring,
Love now stand my friend,
Heere let all sorrow end,
And I will honour thee.
See where little Cupid lyes,
Looking babies in her eyes.
Cupid helpe me now,
Lend to me thy bowe,
To wound her that wounded me.
Heere is none to see or tell,
All our flocks are feeding by,
This banke with Roses spred,
Oh it is a dainty bed,
Fit for my Love and me.
Never yet was morne so cleere,
Sweete be not unkinde,
Let me thy favour finde,
Or else for love I die.
Harke this pretty bubling spring,
How it makes the Meadowes ring,
Love now stand my friend,
Heere let all sorrow end,
And I will honour thee.
See where little Cupid lyes,
Looking babies in her eyes.
Cupid helpe me now,
Lend to me thy bowe,
To wound her that wounded me.
Heere is none to see or tell,
All our flocks are feeding by,
This banke with Roses spred,
Oh it is a dainty bed,
Fit for my Love and me.
Harke the birds in yonder Groave,
How they chaunt unto my Love,
Love be kind to me,
As I have beene to thee,
For thou hast wonne my hart.
Calme windes blow you faire,
Rock her thou sweete gentle ayre,
O the morne is noone,
The evening comes too soone,
To part my Love and me.
The Roses and thy lips doo meete,
Oh that life were halfe so sweete,
Who would respect his breath,
That might die such a death,
Oh that life thus might die.
All the bushes that be neere,
With sweet Nightingales beset,
Hush sweete and be still,
Let them sing their fill,
There's none our joyes to let.
How they chaunt unto my Love,
Love be kind to me,
As I have beene to thee,
For thou hast wonne my hart.
Calme windes blow you faire,
Rock her thou sweete gentle ayre,
O the morne is noone,
The evening comes too soone,
To part my Love and me.
496
Oh that life were halfe so sweete,
Who would respect his breath,
That might die such a death,
Oh that life thus might die.
All the bushes that be neere,
With sweet Nightingales beset,
Hush sweete and be still,
Let them sing their fill,
There's none our joyes to let.
Sunne why doo'st thou goe so fast?
Oh why doo'st thou make such hast?
It is too early yet,
So soone from joyes to flit,
Why art thou so unkind?
See my little Lambkins runne,
Looke on them till I have done,
Hast not on the night,
To rob me of her sight,
That live but by her eyes.
Alas, sweet Love, we must depart,
Harke, my dogge begins to barke,
Some bodie's comming neere,
They shall not finde us heere,
For feare of being chid.
Take my Garland and my Glove,
Weare it for my sake my Love,
To morrow on the greene,
Thou shalt be our Sheepheards Queene,
Crowned with Roses gay.
Oh why doo'st thou make such hast?
It is too early yet,
So soone from joyes to flit,
Why art thou so unkind?
See my little Lambkins runne,
Looke on them till I have done,
Hast not on the night,
To rob me of her sight,
That live but by her eyes.
Alas, sweet Love, we must depart,
Harke, my dogge begins to barke,
Some bodie's comming neere,
They shall not finde us heere,
For feare of being chid.
Take my Garland and my Glove,
Weare it for my sake my Love,
To morrow on the greene,
Thou shalt be our Sheepheards Queene,
Crowned with Roses gay.
FINIS.
Mich. Drayton.
497
[Nature, and Arte are overmatcht by thee]
[_]
[From a manuscript of Thomas Palmer's The Sprite of Trees and Herbes, British Museum Additional MS. 18,040.]
in secreat vertews both of Plants and flowers
thou doest excell both Phisick and the Bee
though in their functions, and their severall powers
the best but honny that the Bee canne gett
and Med'cene is all Phisicke doeth extract
by thee againe they both to schoole are sett
for thou hast found what Arte, and Nature lackte
their use is whilst, the Plant or flower doth growe
drawne from the leafe, the rinde, the barck, the roote
but thou in these doest greater cunninge shewe
to serve thy use though lyinge under foote
both foode, and Medcene thou from these doest try
both these confinde in thy moralitye
Mic: Draiton.
Gloria cuique sua est
498
TO MASTER NICHOLAS GEFFE.
[_]
[From Nicholas Geffe's translation of Olivier de Serres's The Perfect Use of Silk-wormes, 1607.]
As thou deare friend with thy industrious hand
Reachest this rich invaluable Clue;
So once Columbus offred to this land
That from which Spaine her now-hie courage drue.
Reachest this rich invaluable Clue;
So once Columbus offred to this land
That from which Spaine her now-hie courage drue.
And had not she provok'd by his designes,
Traveld to find what hidden was before,
Ne're had her Argo's from the Indian mines
Powr'd their full panches, on th'Iberian shore.
Traveld to find what hidden was before,
Ne're had her Argo's from the Indian mines
Powr'd their full panches, on th'Iberian shore.
From small beginnings how brave noble things
Have gathered vigor and themselves have rear'd
To be the strength and maintenance of Kings
That at the first but frivolous appear'd:
Have gathered vigor and themselves have rear'd
To be the strength and maintenance of Kings
That at the first but frivolous appear'd:
So may thy Silk-wormes happily increase
From sea to sea to propagate their seed,
That plant still, nourish'd by our glorious peace
Whose leafe alone, the labouring Worme doth feed.
From sea to sea to propagate their seed,
That plant still, nourish'd by our glorious peace
Whose leafe alone, the labouring Worme doth feed.
And may thy fame perpetually advance
Rich when by thee, thy countrey shall be made;
Naples, Granado, Portugale, and France,
All to sit idle, wondring at our trade.
Rich when by thee, thy countrey shall be made;
Naples, Granado, Portugale, and France,
All to sit idle, wondring at our trade.
The tree acquainting with the Brittish soyle
And the true use unto our people taught
Shall trebble ten times recompence the toile
(From forraine parts) of him it hither brought,
And the true use unto our people taught
Shall trebble ten times recompence the toile
(From forraine parts) of him it hither brought,
In spight of them would rob thee of thy due,
Yet not deprive us of thy noble skill,
Still let faire vertue to her selfe be true,
Although the times ingratefull be and ill.
Yet not deprive us of thy noble skill,
Still let faire vertue to her selfe be true,
Although the times ingratefull be and ill.
Michael Drayton.
499
TO M. JOHN DAVIES, MY GOOD FRIEND.
Such men as hold intelligence with Letters,And in that nice and Narrow way of Verse,
As oft they lend, so oft they must be Debters,
If with the Muses they will have commerce:
Seldome at Stawles me, this way men rehearse,
To mine Inferiours, nor unto my Betters:
He stales his Lines that so doeth them disperce;
I am so free, I love not Golden-fetters:
And many Lines fore Writers, be but Setters
To them which Cheate with Papers; which doth pierse,
Our Credits: when we shew our selves Abetters:
To those that wrong our knowledge: we rehearse
Often (my good John; and I love) thy Letters;
Which lend me Credit, as I lend my Verse.
Michael Drayton.
TO MY KINDE FRIEND DA: MURRAY.
In new attire (and put most neatly on)Thou Murray mak'st thy passionate Queene apeare,
As when she sat on the Numidian throne,
Deck'd with those Gems that most refulgent were.
So thy stronge muse her maker like repaires,
That from the ruins of her wasted urne,
Into a body of delicious ayres:
Againe her spirit doth transmigrated turne,
That scortching soile which thy great subject bore,
Bred those that coldly but expres'd her merit,
But breathing now upon our colder shore,
Here shee hath found a noble fiery spirit,
Both there, and here, so fortunate for Fame,
That what she was, she's every where the same.
M. Drayton.
500
Incipit Michael Drayton.
A brief Prologue to the verses following.
Deare Tom, thy Booke was like to come to light,
Ere I could gaine but one halfe howre to write;
They go before whose wits are at their noones,
And I come after bringing Salt and Spoones.
Ere I could gaine but one halfe howre to write;
They go before whose wits are at their noones,
And I come after bringing Salt and Spoones.
Many there be that write before thy Booke,
For whom (except here) who would ever looke?
Thrice happy are all wee that had the Grace
To have our names set in this living place.
Most worthy man, with thee it is even thus,
As men take Dottrels, so hast thou ta'n us.
Which as a man his arme or leg doth set,
So this fond Bird will likewise counterfeit:
Thou art the Fowler, and doest shew us shapes
And we are all thy Zanies, thy true Apes.
I saw this age (from what it was at first)
Swolne, and so bigge, that it was like to burst,
Growne so prodigious, so quite out of fashion,
That who will thrive, must hazard his damnation:
Sweating in panges, sent such a horrid mist,
As to dim heaven: I looked for Antichrist
Or some new set of Divels to sway hell,
Worser then those, that in the Chaos fell:
Wondring what fruit it to the world would bring,
At length it brought forth this: ô most strange thing;
And with sore throwes, for that the greatest head
Ever is hard'st to be delivered.
By thee wise Coryate we are taught to know,
Great, with great men which is the way to grow.
For in a new straine thou com'st finely in,
Making thy selfe like those thou meant'st to winne:
Greatnesse to me seem'd ever full of feare,
Which thou found'st false at thy arriving there,
Of the Bermudos, the example such,
Where not a ship untill this time durst touch;
Kep't as suppos'd by hels infernall dogs,
Our Fleet found their most honest courteous hogs.
Live vertuous Coryate, and for ever be
Lik'd of such wise men, as are most like thee.
For whom (except here) who would ever looke?
Thrice happy are all wee that had the Grace
To have our names set in this living place.
Most worthy man, with thee it is even thus,
As men take Dottrels, so hast thou ta'n us.
Which as a man his arme or leg doth set,
So this fond Bird will likewise counterfeit:
Thou art the Fowler, and doest shew us shapes
And we are all thy Zanies, thy true Apes.
I saw this age (from what it was at first)
Swolne, and so bigge, that it was like to burst,
Growne so prodigious, so quite out of fashion,
That who will thrive, must hazard his damnation:
Sweating in panges, sent such a horrid mist,
As to dim heaven: I looked for Antichrist
Or some new set of Divels to sway hell,
Worser then those, that in the Chaos fell:
Wondring what fruit it to the world would bring,
At length it brought forth this: ô most strange thing;
And with sore throwes, for that the greatest head
Ever is hard'st to be delivered.
By thee wise Coryate we are taught to know,
Great, with great men which is the way to grow.
For in a new straine thou com'st finely in,
Making thy selfe like those thou meant'st to winne:
501
Which thou found'st false at thy arriving there,
Of the Bermudos, the example such,
Where not a ship untill this time durst touch;
Kep't as suppos'd by hels infernall dogs,
Our Fleet found their most honest courteous hogs.
Live vertuous Coryate, and for ever be
Lik'd of such wise men, as are most like thee.
Explicit Michael Drayton.
502
TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR.
Drive forth thy Flocke, young Pastor, to that Plaine,Where our old Shepheards wont their flocks to feed;
To those cleare walkes, where many a skilfull Swaine
To'ards the calme ev'ning, tun'd his pleasant Reede.
Those, to the Muses once so sacred, Downes,
As no rude foote might there presume to stand:
(Now made the way of the unworthiest Clownes,
Dig'd and plow'd up with each unhallowed hand)
If possible thou canst, redeeme those places,
Where, by the brim of many a silver Spring,
The learned Maydens, and delightfull Graces
Often have sate to heare our Shepheards sing:
Where on those Pines the neighb'ring Groves among,
(Now utterly neglected in these dayes)
Our Garlands, Pipes, and Cornamutes were hong
The monuments of our deserved praise.
So may thy Sheepe like, so thy Lambes increase,
And from the Wolfe feede ever safe and free!
So maist thou thrive, among the learned prease,
As thou, young Shepheard, art belov'd of mee!
Michael Drayton.
503
TO MY WORTHY FRIEND MR. GEORGE CHAPMAN, and his translated Hesiod.
Chapman; We finde by thy past-prized fraught,
What wealth thou dost upon this Land conferre;
Th'olde Græcian Prophets hither that hast brought,
Of their full words the true Interpreter:
And by thy travell, strongly hast exprest
The large dimensions of the English tongue;
Delivering them so well, the first and best,
That to the world in Numbers ever sung.
Thou hast unlock'd the treasury, wherein
All Art, and knowledge have so long been hidden:
Which, till the gracefull Muses did begin
Here to inhabite, was to us forbidden.
What wealth thou dost upon this Land conferre;
Th'olde Græcian Prophets hither that hast brought,
Of their full words the true Interpreter:
And by thy travell, strongly hast exprest
The large dimensions of the English tongue;
Delivering them so well, the first and best,
That to the world in Numbers ever sung.
Thou hast unlock'd the treasury, wherein
All Art, and knowledge have so long been hidden:
Which, till the gracefull Muses did begin
Here to inhabite, was to us forbidden.
In blest Elizium, (in a place most fit)
Under that tree due to the Delphian God,
Musæus, and that Iliad Singer sit,
And neare to them that noble Hesiod,
Smoothing their rugged foreheads; and do smile,
After so many hundred yeares to see
Their Poems read in this farre westerne Ile,
Translated from their ancient Greeke, by thee;
Each his good Genius whispering in his eare,
That with so lucky, and auspicious fate
Did still attend them, whilst they living were,
And gave their Verses such a lasting date.
Under that tree due to the Delphian God,
Musæus, and that Iliad Singer sit,
And neare to them that noble Hesiod,
Smoothing their rugged foreheads; and do smile,
After so many hundred yeares to see
Their Poems read in this farre westerne Ile,
Translated from their ancient Greeke, by thee;
Each his good Genius whispering in his eare,
That with so lucky, and auspicious fate
Did still attend them, whilst they living were,
And gave their Verses such a lasting date.
Where slightly passing by the Thespian spring,
Many long after did but onely sup;
Nature, then fruitfull, forth these men did bring,
To fetch deepe Rowses from Joves plentious cup.
Many long after did but onely sup;
Nature, then fruitfull, forth these men did bring,
To fetch deepe Rowses from Joves plentious cup.
In thy free labours (friend) then rest content.
Feare not Detraction, neither fawne on Praise:
When idle Censure all her force hath spent,
Knowledge can crowne her self with her owne Baies.
Their Lines, that have so many lives outworne,
Cleerely expounded, shall base Envy scorne.
Feare not Detraction, neither fawne on Praise:
When idle Censure all her force hath spent,
Knowledge can crowne her self with her owne Baies.
Their Lines, that have so many lives outworne,
Cleerely expounded, shall base Envy scorne.
Michael Drayton.
504
TO MY FRIEND M. A. H.
By this one lim, my Holland, we may seeWhat thou in time at thy full growth maist bee,
Which wit, by her owne Symetrie can take,
And thy proportion perfectly can make
At thy Ascendant: that when thou shalt show
Thy selfe; who reads thee perfectly shall know
Those of the Muses by this little light
Saw before other where to take thy height.
Proceed, let not Apollo's stocke decay,
Poets and Kings are not borne every day.
Michael Drayton.
M. D. ESQUIRE TO HIS GOOD FRIEND, T. V.
What Thou do'st teach, by others heretoforeHath likewise bin. But yet by no man more
To the true life. That by thy godly care,
Thou and thine Authour equally doe share.
Thou praisest him Translating, but if he
Understood English he would more praise thee.
Thou to our Nation ha'st his Doctrine showne,
Which to our vulgar else had not beene knowne;
As much by this thou get'st as ere he wanne:
England praise Vicars, Dantsk her Keckerman.
Mich. Drayton.
505
TO THE DEARE REMEMBRANCE of his Noble Friend, Sir John Beaumont, Baronet.
This
Posthumus, from the brave Parents Name,
Likely to be the heire of so much Fame,
Can have at all no portion by my prayse:
Onely this poore Branch of my with'ring Bayes
I offer to it; and am very glad,
I yet have this; which if I better had,
My Love should build an Altar, and thereon
Should offer up such Wreaths as long agone,
Those daring Grecians, and proud Romans crownd;
Giving that honour to their most Renown'd.
Likely to be the heire of so much Fame,
Can have at all no portion by my prayse:
Onely this poore Branch of my with'ring Bayes
I offer to it; and am very glad,
I yet have this; which if I better had,
My Love should build an Altar, and thereon
Should offer up such Wreaths as long agone,
Those daring Grecians, and proud Romans crownd;
Giving that honour to their most Renown'd.
But that brave World is past, and we are light,
After those glorious dayes, into the night
Of these base times, which not one Heröe have,
Onely an empty Title, which the grave
Shall soone devoure; whence it no more shall sound,
Which never got up higher then the ground.
After those glorious dayes, into the night
Of these base times, which not one Heröe have,
Onely an empty Title, which the grave
Shall soone devoure; whence it no more shall sound,
Which never got up higher then the ground.
Thy care for that which was not worth thy breath,
Brought on too soone thy much lamented death.
But Heav'n was kind, and would not let thee see
The Plagues that must upon this Nation be,
By whom the Muses have neglected bin,
Which shall adde weight and measure to their sinne;
And have already had this curse from us,
That in their pride they should grow barbarous.
Brought on too soone thy much lamented death.
But Heav'n was kind, and would not let thee see
The Plagues that must upon this Nation be,
By whom the Muses have neglected bin,
Which shall adde weight and measure to their sinne;
And have already had this curse from us,
That in their pride they should grow barbarous.
There is no splendor, that our Pens can give
By our most labor'd lines, can make thee live
Like to thine owne, which able is to raise
So lasting pillars to prop up thy prayse,
As time shall hardly shake, untill it shall
Ruine those things, that with it selfe must fall.
By our most labor'd lines, can make thee live
Like to thine owne, which able is to raise
So lasting pillars to prop up thy prayse,
As time shall hardly shake, untill it shall
Ruine those things, that with it selfe must fall.
Mi. Drayton.
506
TO MY NOBLE FRIEND MR. ROBERT DOVER, on his brave annuall Assemblies upon Cotswold.
[_]
[From Matthew Walbancke's Annalia Dubrensia. Upon the yeerely celebration of Mr. Robert Dovers Olimpick Games upon Cotswold-Hills, 1636.]
That dost in these dull yron Times revive
The golden Ages glories; which poore Wee
Had not so much as dream't on but for Thee?
As those brave Grecians in their happy dayes,
On Mount Olympus to their Hercules
Ordain'd their games Olimpick, and so nam'd
Of that great Mountaine; for those pastimes fam'd:
Where then their able Youth, Leapt, Wrestled, Ran,
Threw the arm'd Dart; and honour'd was the Man
That was the Victor; In the Circute there
The nimble Rider, and skil'd Chariotere
Strove for the Garland; In those noble Times
There to their Harpes the Poets sang their Rimes;
That whilst Greece flourisht, and was onely then
Nurse of all Arts, and of all famous men:
Numbring their yeers, still their accounts they made,
Either from this or that Olimpiade.
So Dover, from these Games, by thee begun,
Wee'l reckon Ours, as time away doth run.
Wee'l have thy Statue in some Rocke cut out,
With brave Inscriptions garnished about;
And under written, Loe, this was the man,
Dover, that first these noble Sports began.
Ladds of the Hills, and Lasses of the Vale,
In many a song, and many a merry Tale
Shall mention Thee; and having leave to play,
Unto thy name shall make a Holy day.
The Cotswold Shepheards as their flocks they keepe,
To put off lazie drowsinesse and sleepe,
Shall sit to tell, and heare thy Story tould,
That night shall come ere they their flocks can fould.
Michaell Drayton.
507
[Soe well I love thee, as without thee I]
These verses weare made By Michaell Drayton Esquier
Poett Lawreatt the night before hee dyed.
1
Soe well I love thee, as without thee ILove Nothing, yf I might Chuse, I'de rather dye
Then bee on day debarde thy companye
2
Since Beasts, and plantes doe growe, and live and moveBeastes are those men, that such a life approve
Hee onlye Lives, that Deadly is in Love
3
The Corne that in the grownd is sowen first diesAnd of on seed doe manye Eares arise
Love this worldes Corne, by dying Multiplies
4
The seeds of Love first by thy eyes weare throwneInto a grownd untild, a harte unknowne
To beare such fruitt, tyll by thy handes t'was sowen
5
Looke as your Looking glass by Chance may fallDevyde and breake in manye peyces smale
And yett shewes forth, the selfe same face in all
6
Proportions, Features Graces just the sameAnd in the smalest peyce as well the name
Of Fayrest one deserves, as in the richest frame
7
Soe all my Thoughts are peyces but of youWhiche put together makes a Glass soe true
As I therin noe others face but yours can Veiwe
finis
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