Poems by Sir John Salusbury and Robert Chester With an introduction by Carleton Brown |
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A welcome home To the Right Worshipfull John Salusbury
Esqr of the bodie to the Queenes most Exelent Maiestye
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 | Poems by Sir John Salusbury and Robert Chester |  |
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A welcome home To the Right Worshipfull John Salusbury Esqr of the bodie to the Queenes most Exelent Maiestye
Your eares hauing hard the Nightingall soe long,
I feare will blame my hoarse-throat rauens song:
The swanns that laue their blacke feet in the streames,
Haue in their sweetnes sang you golden theames:
Court-bewtefying Poets in their verse,
Homerian like sweete stanzoes did rehearse:
Then blame not my homebred vnpollisht witt,
That in the Nightowles cabinet doe sitt:
Yf that my lines be blunt, or harsh, or ill,
Seing they proceed from rustick Martius quill;
Yet how I striue to please my still pleasde freinde,
Let my true harty thoughts my lines commende:
I feare will blame my hoarse-throat rauens song:
The swanns that laue their blacke feet in the streames,
Haue in their sweetnes sang you golden theames:
Court-bewtefying Poets in their verse,
Homerian like sweete stanzoes did rehearse:
Then blame not my homebred vnpollisht witt,
That in the Nightowles cabinet doe sitt:
Yf that my lines be blunt, or harsh, or ill,
Seing they proceed from rustick Martius quill;
Yet how I striue to please my still pleasde freinde,
Let my true harty thoughts my lines commende:
Bould and too bould.
To tye my thoughtes to smoth fast flatterie
Were for to scourge with whipps poore Innocence
And yf my penne should not explaine my dutie
I might be blamed much of necligence
Speake trembling Innocence and speak the truth,
That Honestie ingrafted in thy youth;
Were for to scourge with whipps poore Innocence
And yf my penne should not explaine my dutie
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Speake trembling Innocence and speak the truth,
That Honestie ingrafted in thy youth;
As A ritch Iewell of esteemed prize
That almost all men thinke Invaluable,
Adds comfort to the poore mans gazing eyes,
And to himself is thought inestimable
But being lost, death is not counted cruell
To perce his hart seing he hath lost his Iewell.
That almost all men thinke Invaluable,
Adds comfort to the poore mans gazing eyes,
And to himself is thought inestimable
But being lost, death is not counted cruell
To perce his hart seing he hath lost his Iewell.
Yf naked need oppressions chieffest freind,
With want did touch this poore sad harted soule;
His Iewell was his pawne; and in the end,
Redeemd him from proud envies fond controule,
Then found againe tenne times his greef before
With ioye is now redoubled, more and more;
With want did touch this poore sad harted soule;
His Iewell was his pawne; and in the end,
Redeemd him from proud envies fond controule,
Then found againe tenne times his greef before
With ioye is now redoubled, more and more;
I lost my Iewell then I sate me downe,
Vnder the fatall yewe and hoples pine,
One whose greene leaue the sunne did alwaies froune,
As scorning on that mournefull place to shine,
With eyes orecome with teares and hart with sorrow
The black cloked Syppres sisters aid did borrow.
Vnder the fatall yewe and hoples pine,
One whose greene leaue the sunne did alwaies froune,
As scorning on that mournefull place to shine,
With eyes orecome with teares and hart with sorrow
The black cloked Syppres sisters aid did borrow.
My Inke waxt pale, to se my face looke pale,
My penne being pluckt from A black ravens wing,
Would wright no Sonnetts but Vlisses tale,
And of his tenne yeares absence for to sing,
Tenne weekes to my sad lingring miserie,
Were more then tenne yeares to Penellope.
My penne being pluckt from A black ravens wing,
Would wright no Sonnetts but Vlisses tale,
And of his tenne yeares absence for to sing,
Tenne weekes to my sad lingring miserie,
Were more then tenne yeares to Penellope.
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Then how I ioy at theese weekes happie ending,
Let my forepassed greef at full relate,
How pleasure in my brest the time is spending
That whilome liude Alone disconsolate,
ffound is my Iewell; Iewell vnto manie,
More pretious in our hartes by farr then anie;
Let my forepassed greef at full relate,
How pleasure in my brest the time is spending
That whilome liude Alone disconsolate,
ffound is my Iewell; Iewell vnto manie,
More pretious in our hartes by farr then anie;
Welcome thow great Armado, frought with treasure,
Vnto the port of thy desired rest;
Our longing thoughts wisht for thee out of measure
As in thy Anchorage delighting best,
Thy bodie is our barke thy hands our ores,
To guide vs from ship ruinating shores;
Vnto the port of thy desired rest;
Our longing thoughts wisht for thee out of measure
As in thy Anchorage delighting best,
Thy bodie is our barke thy hands our ores,
To guide vs from ship ruinating shores;
Thy feete our sterne, thine eies our Admirall
That like A lanthorne leads vs to the baie,
Thy head our compasse that we steare with all,
Thy hart our Indean treasure and our ioy,
Thy words our thundring Cannon that doth teare
Our foemens ramperd walls, walles full of feare,
That like A lanthorne leads vs to the baie,
Thy head our compasse that we steare with all,
Thy hart our Indean treasure and our ioy,
Thy words our thundring Cannon that doth teare
Our foemens ramperd walls, walles full of feare,
Sailes, maste, and tacklinge, all are comprehended.
With in thy self that hast vs still befrended;
ffor if thow hoist thy proud sailes in the wind
Blowne forth with honors resolucion
They strike their maine topp & to the Assigne
The chieffest place of commendacion
With in thy self that hast vs still befrended;
ffor if thow hoist thy proud sailes in the wind
Blowne forth with honors resolucion
They strike their maine topp & to the Assigne
The chieffest place of commendacion
ffor yf the Lyon rore by sea or land
The craftie forrest beasts Amazd will stand
Long liue thow milkwhight terror to thy ffoes
With the great Lyones of Brytania
Whose verie name her foemen overthrowes
As subiugate to royall Anglia:
The craftie forrest beasts Amazd will stand
Long liue thow milkwhight terror to thy ffoes
With the great Lyones of Brytania
Whose verie name her foemen overthrowes
As subiugate to royall Anglia:
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Deare in her sight be thow, and in our eyes,
As deare be thow to vs as dearnes lies
And to knitt vp my thoughts lest I shold rome
To me deare Lyon tenne times welcome home
As deare be thow to vs as dearnes lies
And to knitt vp my thoughts lest I shold rome
To me deare Lyon tenne times welcome home
Yours in all duty: etc. R Chest
| Poems by Sir John Salusbury and Robert Chester | |