University of Virginia Library

The First Song.

The Argvment.

Marina's freedome now I sing,
And of her new endangering:
Of Famines Caue, and then th' abuse
Tow'rds buried Colyn and his Muse.
As when a Mariner (accounted lost,)
Vpon the watry Desert long time tost,
In Summers parching heat, in Winters cold,
In tempests great, in dangers manifold:
Is by a fau'ring winde drawne vp the Mast,
Whence he descries his natiue soile at last:
For whose glad sight he gets the hatches vnder,
And to the Ocean tels his ioy in thunder,
(Shaking those Barnacles into the Sea,
At once, that in the wombe and cradle lay)
When sodainly the still inconstant winde
Masters before, that did attend behinde;
And growes so violent, that he is faine
Command the Pilot stand to Sea againe;
Lest want of Sea-roome in a Channell streight,
Or casting Anchor might cast o're his freight:
Thus gentle Muse it happens in my Song,
A iourney, tedious, for a strength so young
I vnder-tooke: by siluer-seeming Floods,
Past gloomy Bottomes, and high-wauing Woods,
Climb'd Mountaines where the wanton Kidling dallies,
Thē with soft steps enseal'd the meekned Vallies,
In quest of memory: and had possest
A pleasant Garden, for a welcome rest
No sooner, then a hundred Theames come on
And hale my Barke a-new for Helicon.
Thrice sacred Powers! (if sacred Powers there be
Whose milde aspect engyrland Poesie)
Yee happy Sisters of the learned Spring,
Whose heauenly notes the Woods are rauishing!
Braue Thespian Maidens, at whose charming layes
Each Mosse-thrumb'd Mountaine bends, each Current playes!
Piërian Singers! O yee blessed Muses!
Who as a Iem too deare the world refuses!
Whose truest louers neuer clip with age,
O be propitious in my Pilgrimage!
Dwell on my lines! and till the last sand fall,
Run hand in hand with my weake Pastorall!
Cause euery coupling cadence flow in blisses,
And fill the world with enuy of such kisses.
Make all the rarest Beauties of our Clyme,
That deigne a sweet looke on my younger ryme,
To linger on each lines inticing graces,
As on their Louers lips and chaste imbraces!
Through rouling trenches of self-drowning waues,
Where stormy gusts throw vp vntimely graues,
By billowes whose white fome shew'd angry mindes,
For not out-roaring all the high-rais'd windes,
Into the euer-drinking thirsty Sea
By Rockes that vnder water hidden lay,
To shipwracke passengers, (so in some den
Theeues bent to robbry watch way-faring men.)
Fairest Marina, whom I whilome sung,
In all this tempest (violent though long)
Without all sense of danger lay asleepe:
Till tossed where the still inconstant deepe
With wide spred armes, stood ready for the tender
Of daily tribute, that the swolne floods render
Into her Chequer: (whence as worthy Kings
She helpes the wants of thousands lesser Springs:)
Here waxt the windes dumbe (shut vp in their caues)
As still as mid-night were the sullen waues,
And Neptunes siluer-euer-shaking brest
As smooth as when the Halcyon builds her nest.
None other wrinckles on his face were seene
Then on a fertile Mead, or sportiue Greene,
Where neuer Plow-share ript his mothers wombe
To giue an aged seed a liuing tombe,
Nor blinded Mole the batning earth ere stir'd,
Nor Boyes made Pit-fals for the hungry Bird.
The whistling Reeds vpon the waters side
Shot vp their sharpe heads in a stately pride,
And not a binding Ozyer bow'd his head,
But on his root him brauely carryed.
No dandling leafe plaid with the subtill aire,
So smooth the Sea was, and the Skie so faire.
Now with his hands in stead of broad-palm'd Oares,
The Swaine attempts to get the shell-strewd shores,
And with continuall lading making way,
Thrust the small Boat into as faire a Bay
As euer Merchant wisht might be the rode
Wherein to ease his sea-torne Vessels lode.
It was an Iland (hugg'd in Neptunes armes,
As tendring it against all forraigne harmes,)
And Mona height: so amiably faire,
So rich in soyle, so healthfull in her aire,
So quicke in her increase, (each dewy night
Yeelding that ground as greene, as fresh of plight
As't was the day before, whereon then fed
Of gallant Steeres, full many a thousand head.)
So deckt with Floods, so pleasant in her Groues,
So full of well-fleec'd Flockes and fatned Droues;
That the braue issue of the Troian line,
(Whose worths, like Diamonds, yet in darknesse shine,)
Whose deeds were sung by learned Bards as hye,
In raptures of immortall Poesie,
As any Nations, since the Grecian Lads
Were famous made by Homers Iliads.)
Those braue heroicke spirits, twixt one another
Prouerbially call

Mon Mam Kumbry.

Mona Cambria's Mother.
Yet Cambria is a land from whence haue come
Worthies well worth the race of Ilium.
Whose true desert of praise could my Muse touch,
I should be proud that I had done so much.
And though of mighty Brute I cannot boast,
Yet doth our warlike strong Deuonian coast
Resound his worth, since on her waue-worne strand
He and his Troians first set foot on land,
Strooke Saile, and Anchor cast on

Petunt Classem omnibus bonis onustam, prosperis ventis mare sulcantes in Totenesio littore feliciter applicarunt. Galf. Monum.

Totnes shore.
Though now no Ship can ride there any more.
In th' Ilands Rode the Swain now moares his Boat
Vnto a Willow (lest it outwards float)
And with a rude embracement taking vp
The Maid (more faire then

Hebe.

She that fill'd the cup
Of the great Thunderer, wounding with her eyes
More hearts then all the troopes of Deities.)
He wades to shore, and sets her on the sand,
That gently yeelded when her foot should land.
Where bubling waters through the pibbles fleet,
As if they stroue to kisse her slender feet.
Whlist like a wretch, whose cursed hand hath tane
The sacred reliques from a holy Phane,
Feeling the hand of heauen (inforcing wonder)
In his returne, in dreadfull cracks of thunder,
Within a bush his Sacriledge hath left,
And thinkes his punishment freed with the theft:
So fled the Swaine, from one; had Neptune spide
At halfe an ebbe; he would haue forc'd the Tyde
To swell anew; whereon his Carre should sweepe,
Deckt with the riches of th' vnsounded deepe,
And he from thence, would with all state, on shore,
To wooe this beautie, and to wooe no more.
Diuine Electra (of the Sisters seuen
That beautifie the glorious Orbe of heauen)
When Iliums stately towres, serv'd as one light
To guide the Rauisher in vgly night
Vnto her virgin beds, with-drew her face,
And neuer would looke downe on humane race
Til this Maids birth; since whē some power hath won her
By often fits to shine, as gazing on her.
Grim Saturnes son, the dread Olimpicke Ioue
That dark't three dayes to frolicke with his Loue,
Had he in Alcmen's stead clipt this faire wight,
The world had slept in euerlasting night.
For whose sake onely (had she liued then)
Deucalions flood had neuer rag'd on men:
Nor Phaëton perform'd his fathers duty,
For feare to rob the world of such a beauty:
In whose due praise, a learned quill might spend
Houres, daies, months, yeeres, and neuer make an end.
What wretch inhumane? or what wilder blood
(Suckt in a desert from a Tygers brood)
Could leaue her so disconsolate? but one
Bred in the wasts of frost-bit Calydon;
For had his veynes beene heat with milder ayre,
He had not wrong'd so foule, a Maid so faire.
Sing on sweet Muse, and whilst I feed mine eyes
Vpon a Iewell and vnvalued prize,
As bright a Starre, a Dame, as faire, as chaste,
As eye beheld, or shall, till Natures last:
Charme her quicke senses! and with raptures sweet
Make her affection with your cadence meet!
And if her gracefull tongue admire one straine,
It is the best reward my Pipe would gaine.
In lieu whereof, in Laurell-worthy rimes
Her Loue shall liue vntill the end of times,
And spight of age, the last of dayes shall see
Her Name embalm'd in sacred Poesie.
Sadly alone vpon the aged rocks,
Whom Thetis grac'd in washing oft their locks
Of branching Sampire, sate the Maid o'retaken
With sighes and teares, vnfortunate, forsaken,
And with a voice that floods frō rocks would borrow,
She thus both wept and sung her noates of sorrow.
If Heauen be deafe and will not heare my cries,
But addes new daies to adde new miseries;
Heare then ye troubled Waues and flitting Gales,
That coole the bosomes of the fruitfull Vales!
Lend, one, a flood of teares, the other, winde,
To weepe and sigh that Heauen is so vnkinde!
But if ye will not spare, of all your store
One teare, or sigh, vnto a wretch so poore;
Yet as ye trauell on this spacious Round,
Through Forrests, Mountains, or the Lawny ground,
If't happ' you see a Maid weepe forth her woe,
As I haue done; Oh bid her as ye goe
Not lauish teares! for when her owne are gone,
The world is flinty and will lend her none.
If this be eke deni'd; O hearken then
Each hollow vaulted Rocke, and crooked Den!
And if within your sides one Eccho be
Let her begin to rue my destinie!
And in your clefts her plainings doe not smother,
But let that Eccho teach it to another!
Till round the world in sounding coombe and plaine,
The last of them tell it the first againe:
Of my sad Fate, so shall they neuer lin,
But where one ends, another still begin.
Wretch that I am, my words I vainly waste,
Eccho, of all woes onely speake the last;
And that's enough: for should she vtter all,
As at Medusa's head, each heart would fall
Into a flinty substance, and repine
At no one griefe, except as great as mine.
No carefull Nurse would wet her watchfull eye,
When any pang should gripe her infantry,
Nor though to Nature it obedience gaue,
And kneeld, to doe her Homage, in the graue,
Would she lament, her suckling from her torne:
Scaping by death those torments I haue borne.
This sigh'd, she wept (low leaning on her hand)
Her briny teares downe rayning on the sand,
Which seene by (them, that sport it in the Seas
On Dolphins backes) the faire Nereides,
They came on shore, and slily as they fell
Conuai'd each teare into an Oyster-shell,
And by some power that did affect the Girles,
Transform'd those liquid drops to orient Pearles,
And strew'd them on the shore: for whose rich prize
In winged Pines, the Roman Colonies
Flung through the deepe Abysse to our white rocks
For Iems to decke their Ladyes golden lockes:
Who valew'd them as highly in their kinds
As those the Sun-burnt Æthiopian finds.
A wight she was so farre from being faire;
None could be foule esteem'd, compar'd with her.
Describing Foulnesse, pardon if I erre,
Ye Shepherds Daughters, and ye gentle Swaines!
My Muse would gladly chaunt more louely straines:
Yet since on miry grounds she trode, for doubt
Of sinking, all in haste, thus wades she out.
As when great Neptune in his height of pride
The inland creeks fils with a high Spring-tyde,
Great sholes of fish, among the Oysters hye,
Which by a quicke ebbe, on the shores, left dry,
The fishes yawne, the Oysters gapen wide:
So broad her mouth was: As she stood and cride,
She tore her eluish knots of haire, as blacke
And full of dust as any Collyers sacke.
Her eyes vnlike, were like her body right,
Squint and misse-shapen, one dun, t'other white.
As in a picture limb'd vnto the life,
Or carued by a curious workmans knife,
If twenty men at once should come to see
The great effects of vntirde industry,
Each seu'rally would thinke the pictures eye
Was fixt on him, and on no stander by:
So as she (bawling) was vpon the banke,
If twice fiue hundred men stood on a ranke,
Her ill face towards them; euery one would say,
She lookes on me; when she another way
Had cast her eyes, as on some rocke or tree,
And on no one of all that company.
Her Nose (ô crooked nose) her mouth o're-hung,
As it would be directed by her tongue:
Her Fore-head such, as one might neere auow
Some Plow-man, there, had lately beene at plow.
Her Face so scorcht was, and so vilde it showes,
As on a Peare-tree she had scar'd the Crowes.
Within a Tanners fat I oft haue eyde
(That three moones there had laine) a large Oxe-hyde
In liquor mixt with strongest barke (for gaine)
Yet had not tane one halfe so deepe a staine
As had her skin: and that, as hard well-nye
As any Brawnes, long hardned in the stye.
Her Shoulders such, as I haue often seene
A silly Cottage on a Village greene
Might change his corner posts, in good behoofe,
For foure such vnder-proppers to his roofe.
Huswiues, goe hire her, if you yeerely gaue
A Lamkin more then vse, you that might saue
In washing-Beetles, for her hands would passe
To serue that purpose, though you daily wash.
For other hidden parts, thus much I say;
As Ballad-mongers on a Market-day
Taking their stand, one (with as harsh a noyse
As euer Cart-wheele made) squeakes the sad choice
Of Tom the Miller with a golden thumbe,
Who crost in loue, ran mad, and deafe, and dumbe,
Halfe part he chants, and will not sing it out,
But thus he speakes to his attentiue rout:
Thus much for loue I warbled from my brest,
And gentle friends, for money take the rest:
So speake I to the ouer-longing eare,
That would the rest of her description heare,
Much haue I sung for loue, the rest (not common)
Martial will shew for coine, in's crabbed woman.
If e're you saw a Pedant gin prepare
To speake some gracefull speech to Master Maior,
And being bashfull, with a quaking doubt
That in his eloquence he may be out;
He oft steps forth, as oft turnes backe againe;
And long 'tis e're he ope his learned veine:
Thinke so Marina stood: for now she thought
To venture forth, then some coniecture wrought
Her to be iealous, lest this vgly wight
(Since like a Witch she lookt) through spels of night,
Might make her body thrall (that yet was free)
To all the foule intents of Witcherie:
This drew her backe againe. At last she broke
Through all fond doubts, went to her, and bespoke
In gentle manner thus: Good day, good Maid;
With that her cry she on a sodaine staid,
And rub'd her squint eyes with her mighty fist.
But as a Miller hauing ground his grist,
Lets downe his flood-gates with a speedy fall,
And quarring vp the passage therewithall,
The waters swell in spleene, and neuer stay
Till by some cleft they finde another way:
So when her teares were stopt from either eye
Her singults, blubbrings, seem'd to make them flye
Out at her Oyster-mouth and Nose-thrils wide.
Can there (quoth faire Marina) e're betide
(In these sweet Groues) a wench, so great a wrong,
That should inforce a cry so loud, so long?
On these delightfull Plaines how can there be
So much as heard the name of villany?
Except when Shepherds in their gladsome fit
Sing Hymnes to Pan that they are free from it.
But shew me, what hath caus'd thy grieuous yell?
As late (quoth she) I went to yonder Well,
(You cannot see it here; that Groue doth couer
With his thicke boughes his little channell ouer.)
To fetch some water (as I vse) to dresse
My Masters supper (you may thinke of flesh;
But well I wot he tasteth no such dish)
Of Rotchets, Whitings, or such common fish,
That with his net he drags into his Boat:
Among the Flags below, there stands his Coat
(A simple one) thatch'd o're with Reede and Broome;
It hath a Kitchen, and a seuerall roome
For each of vs. But this is nought: you flee,
Replide Marine, I prithee answer me
To what I question'd. Doe but heare me first,
Answer'd the Hag. He is a man so curst,
Although I toyle at home, and serue his Swine,
Yet scarce allowes he me whereon to dine:
In Summer time on Black-berries I liue,
On Crabs and Hawes, and what wilde Forrests giue:
In Winters cold, bare-foot, I run to seeke
For Oysters, and small Winkles in each creeke,
Whereon I feed, and on the Meager Slone.
But if he home returne and finde me gone,
I still am sure to feele his heauy hand.
Alas and weale away, since now I stand
In such a plight: for if I seeke his dore
Hee'l beat me ten times worse then e're before.
What hast thou done? (yet askt Marina) say?
I with my pitcher lately tooke my way
(As late I said) to thilke same shaded Spring,
Fill'd it, and homewards, rais'd my voyce to sing;
But in my backe returne, I (haplesse) spide
A tree of Cherries wilde, and them I eyde
With such a longing, that vnwares my foot
Got vnderneath a hollow-growing root,
Carrying my pot as Maids vse on their heads,
I fell with it, and broke it all to shreads.
This is my griefe, this is my cause of mone.
And if some kinde wight goe not to attone
My surly Master with me wretched Maid,
I shall be beaten dead. Be not afraid,
Said sweet Marina, hasten thee before;
Ile come to make thy peace: for since I sore
Doe hunger, and at home thou hast small cheere,
(Need and supply grow farre off, seldome neere.)
To yonder Groue Ile goe, to taste the spring,
And see what it affords for nourishing.
Thus parted they. And sad Marina blest
The houre she met the Maid, who did invest
Her in assured hope, she once should see
Her Flocke againe (and driue them merrily
To their flowre-decked layre, and tread the shores
Of pleasant Albion) through the well poys'd Oares
Of the poore Fisher-man that dwelt thereby.
But as a man who in a Lottery
Hath ventur'd of his coyne, ere he haue ought,
Thinkes this or that shall with his Prize be bought,
And so enricht, march with the better ranke,
When sodainly he's call'd, and all is Blanke:
To chaste Marina, so doth Fortune proue,
Statesmen and she are neuer firme in loue.
No sooner had Marina got the wood,
But as the trees she neerly search'd for food,
A Villaine, leane, as any rake appeares,
That look't, as pinch'd with famine, Ægypts yeeres,
Worne out and wasted to the pithlesse bone,
As one that had a long Consumption.
His rusty teeth (forsaken of his lips
As they had seru'd with want two Prentiships)
Did through his pallid cheekes, and lankest skin
Bewray what number were enranckt within.
His greedy eyes deepe sunke into his head,
Which with a rough haire was o're couered.
How many bones made vp this starued wight
Was soone perceiu'd; a man of dimmest sight
Apparantly might see them knit, and tell
How all his veines and euery sinew fell.
His belly (inwards drawne) his bowels prest,
His vnfill'd skin hung dangling on his brest,
His feeble knees with paine enough vphold
That pined carkasse, casten in a mold
Cut out by Deaths grim forme. If small legs wan
Euer the title of a Gentleman;
His did acquire it. In his flesh pull'd downe
As he had liu'd in a beleaguerd towne,
Where Plenty had so long estranged beene
That men most worthy note, in griefe were seene
(Though they reioyc'd to haue attain'd such meat)
Of Rats, and halfe-tann'd Hydes, and stomacks great,
Gladly to feed: and where a Nurse, most vilde,
Drunke her owne milke, and staru'd her crying childe.
Yet he through want of food not thus became:
But Nature first decreed, That as the flame
Is neuer seene to flye his nourishment,
But all consumes: and still the more is lent
The more it couets. And as all the Floods
(Down trēching from small groues, & greater woods)
The vast insatiate Sea doth still deuoure,
And yet his thirst not quenched by their power:
So euer should befall this starued wight;
The more his vyands, more his appetite.
What ere the deepes bring forth, or earth, or ayre,
He rauine should, and want in greatest fare.
And what a Citie twice seuen yeeres would serue,
He should deuoure, and yet be like to starue.
A wretch so empty, that if e're there be
In Nature found the least vacuitie,
'Twill be in him. The graue to Ceres store;
A Caniball to lab'rers old and poore;
A Spunge-like-Dropsie, drinking till it burst;
The Sicknesse tearm'd the Wolfe, vilde and accurst;
In some respects like th' art of Alchumy
That thriues least, when it long'st doth multiply:
Limos he cleeped was: whose long-nayl'd paw
Seizing Marina, and his sharpe-fang'd iaw
(The strongest part he had) fixt in her weeds,
He forc'd her thence, through thickets & high Reeds,
Towards his Caue. Her fate the swift windes rue,
And round the Groue in heauy murmures flew.
The limbs of trees, that (as in loue with either)
In close embrasements long had liu'd together,
Rubb'd each on other, and in shreeks did show
The windes had mou'd more partners of their woe.
Old and decaied stocks, that long time spent
Vpon their armes, their roots chiefe nourishment;
And that drawne dry, as freely did impart
Their boughes a feeding on their fathers heart,
Yet by respectlesse impes when all was gone,
Pithlesse and saplesse, naked left alone,
Their hollow trunks, fill'd with their neighbours moanes,
Sent from a thousand vents, ten thousand groanes.
All Birds flew from the wood, as they had been
Scar'd with a strong Bolt ratling 'mong the treen.
Limos with his sweet theft full slily rushes
Through sharp-hook'd brambles, thornes, & tangling bushes,
Whose tenters sticking in her garments, sought
(Poore shrubs) to helpe her, but auailing nought,
As angry (best intents miss'd best proceeding)
They scratch'd his face & legs, cleere water bleeding.
Not greater haste a fearefull schoole-boy makes
Out of an Orchard whence by stealth he takes
A churlish Farmers Plums, sweet Peares or Grapes,
Then Limos did, as from the thicke he scapes
Downe to the shore. Where resting him a space,
Restlesse Marina gan intreat for grace
Of one whose knowing it as desp'rate stood,
As where each day to get supply of food.
O! had she (thirsty) such intreaty made
At some high Rocke, proud of his euening shade,
He would haue burst in two, and from his veines
(For her auaile) vpon the vnder Plaines
A hundred Springs a hundred wayes should swim,
To shew her teares inforced floods from him.
Had such an Oratresse beene heard to plead
For faire Polixena, the Murthrers head
Had beene her pardon, and so scap'd that shocke,
Which made her louers tombe her dying blocke.
Not an inraged Lion, surly, wood,
No Tyger reft her young, nor sauage brood;
No, not the foaming Boare, that durst approue
Louelesse to leaue the mighty Queene of Loue,
But her sad plaints, their vncouth walkes among
Spent, in sweet numbers from her golden tongue,
So much their great hearts would in softnes steepe,
They at her foot would groueling lye, and weepe.
Yet now (alas!) nor words, nor floods of teares
Did ought auaile. The belly hath no eares.
As I haue knowne a man loath meet with gaine
That carrieth in his front least shew of paine,
Who for his vittailes all his raiment pledges,
Whose stackes for firing are his neighbours hedges,
From whence returning with a burden great,
Wearied, on some greene banke he takes his seat,
But fearefull (as still theft is in his stay)
Gets quickly vp, and hasteth fast away:
So Limos sooner eased then yrested
Was vp, and through the Reeds (as much molested
As in the Brakes) who louingly combine,
And for her aide together twist and twine,
Now manacling his hands, then on his legs
Like fetters hang the vnder-growing Segs:
And had his teeth not beene of strongest hold,
He there had left his prey. Fates vncontrold,
Denide so great a blisse to Plants or men,
And lent him strength to bring her to his den.
West, in Apollo's course to Tagus streame,
Crown'd with a siluer circling Diadem
Of wet exhaled mists, there stood a pile
Of aged Rocks (torne from the neighbour Ile
And girt with waues) against whose naked brest
The surges tilted, on his snowie crest
The towring Falcon whilome built, and Kings
Stroue for that Eirie, on whose scaling wings,
Monarchs, in gold refin'd as much would lay
As might a month their Army Royall pay.
Braue Birds they were, whose quick-self-less-'ning kin
Still won the girlonds from the

A Falcon differing from the Falcon-gentle.

Peregrin.
Not Cerna Ile in Affricks siluer maine,
Nor lustfull-bloody-Tereus Thracian straine,
Nor any other Lording of the ayre
Durst with this Eirie for their wing compare.
About his sides a thousand Seaguls bred,
The Meuy and the Halcyon famosed
For colours rare, and for the peacefull Seas
Round the Sicilian coast, her brooding dayes.
Puffins (as thicke as Starlings in a Fen)
Were fetcht from thence: there sate the Pewet hen,
And in the clefts the Martin built his nest.
But those by this curst caitife dispossest
Of roost and nest, the least; of life, the most:
All left that place, and sought a safer coast.
In stead of them the Caterpiller hants,
And Cancre-worme among the tender plants,
That here and there in nooks and corners grew;
Of Cormorants and Locusts not a few;
The cramming Rauen, and a hundred more
Deuouring creatures; yet when from the shore
Limos came wading (as he easily might
Except at high tydes) all would take their flight,
Or hide themselues in some deepe hole or other,
Lest one deuourer should deuoure another.
Neere to the shore that bord'red on the Rocke
No merry Swaine was seene to feed his Flocke,
No lusty Neat-heard thither droue his Kine,
Nor boorish Hog-heard fed his rooting Swine:
A stony ground it was, sweet Herbage fail'd:
Nought there but weeds, which Limos, strongly nail'd,
Tore from their mothers brest, to stuffe his maw.
No Crab-tree bore his load, nor Thorne his paw.
As in a Forest well compleat with Deere
We see the Hollies, Ashes, euery where
Rob'd of their cloathing by the browsing Game:
So neere the Rocke, all trees where e're you came,
To cold Decembers wrath stood void of barke.
Here danc'd no Nymph, no early-rising Larke
Sung vp the Plow-man and his drowsie mate:
All round the Rocke['s] barren and desolate.

The description of the Caue of Famine.

In midst of that huge pile was Limos Caue
Full large and round, wherein a Millers knaue
Might for his Horse and Querne haue roome at will:
Where was out-drawne by some inforced skill,
What mighty conquests were atchieu'd by him.
First stood the siege of great Ierusalem,
Within whose triple wall and sacred Citie
(Weepe ye stone-hearted men! oh read and pittie!
'Tis Sions cause inuokes your briny teares:
Can any dry eye be when she appeares
As I must sing her? oh, if such there be;
Flie, flie th' abode of men! and hasten thee
Into the Desart, some high Mountaine vnder,
Or at thee boyes will hisse, and old men wonder.)
Here sits a mother weeping, pale and wan,
With fixed eyes, whose hopelesse thoughts seem'd ran
How (since for many daies no food she tasted,
Her Meale, her Oyle consum'd, all spent, all wasted)
For one poore day she might attaine supply,
And desp'rate of ought else, sit, pine, and dye.
At last her minde meets with her tender childe
That in the cradle lay (of Oziers wilde)
Which taken in her armes, she giues the teat,
From whence the little wretch with labour great
Not one poore drop can sucke: whereat she wood,
Cries out, ô heauen! are all the founts of food
Exhausted quite? and must my Infant yong
Be fed with shooes? yet wanting those ere long,
Feed on it selfe? No: first the roome that gaue
Him soule and life, shall be his timelesse graue:
My dugs, thy best reliefe, through griping hunger
Flow now no more, my babe; Then since no longer
By me thou canst be fed, nor any other,
Be thou the Nurse, and feed thy dying Mother.
Then in another place she straight appeares,
Seething her suckling in her scalding teares.
From whence not farre the Painter made her stand
Tearing his sod flesh with her cruell hand,
In gobbets which she ate. O cursed wombe,
That to thy selfe art both the graue and tombe.
A little sweet lad (there) seemes to intreat
(With held vp hands) his famisht Sire for meat,
Who wanting ought to giue his hoped ioy
But throbs and sighes; the ouer-hungry boy,
For some poore bit, in darke nooks making quest,
His Sachell finds, which growes a gladsome feast
To him and both his Parents. Then, next day
He chewes the points wherewith he vs'd to play:
Deuouring last his Books of euery kinde,
They fed his body which should feede his minde:
But when his Sachell, Points, Books all were gone,
Before his Sire he droopes, and dies anon.
In height of Art then had the Work-man done,
A pious, zealous, most religious sonne,
Who on the enemy excursion made,
And spight of danger strongly did inuade
Their victuals conuoy, bringing from them home
Dri'd figs, Dates, Almonds, and such fruits as come
To the beleagring foe, and sate's the want
Therewith of those, who, from a tender plant
Bred him a man for armes: thus oft he went,
And Storke-like sought his Parents nourishment,
Till Fates decreed, he on the Roman Speares
Should giue his bloud for them, who gaue him theirs.
A Million of such throes did Famine bring
Vpon the Citie of the mighty King,
Till, as her people, all her buildings rare
Consum'd themselues and dim'd the lightsome ayre.
Neere this the curious Pencell did expresse
A large and solitary wildernesse,
Whose high well limmed Oakes in growing show'd
As they would ease strong Atlas of his load:
Here vnderneath a tree in heauy plight
(Her bread and pot of water wasted quite)
Ægyptian Hagar (nipt with hunger fell)
Sate rob'd of hope: her Infant Ishmael.
(Farre from her being laid) full sadly seem'd
To cry for meat, his cry she nought esteem'd,
But kept her still, and turn'd her face away,
Knowing all meanes were bootlesse to assay
In such a Desert: and since now they must
Sleepe their eternall sleepe, and cleaue to dust,
She chose (apart) to graspe one death alone,
Rather then by her babe a million.
Then Eresichthons case in Ouids Song
Was portraied out; and many moe along
The insides of the Caue; which were descride
By many loope-holes round on euery side.
These faire Marina view'd, left all alone,
The Caue fast shut, Limos for pillage gone;
Neere the wash'd shore mong roots and breers, and thorns,
A Bullocke findes, who deluing with his hornes
The hurtlesse earth (the while his tough hoofe tore
The yeelding turffe) in furious rage he bore
His head among the boughs that held it round,
While with his bellowes all the shores resound:
Him Limos kil'd, and hal'd with no small paine
Vnto the Rocke; fed well; then goes againe:
Which seru'd Marina fit, for had his food
Fail'd him, her veines had fail'd their deerest blood.
Now great Hyperion left his golden throne
That on the dancing waues in glory shone,
For whose declining on the Westerne shore
The orientall hils blacke mantles wore,
And thence apace the gentle Twi-light fled,
That had from hideous cauernes vshered
All-drowsie Night; who in a Carre of Iet,
By Steeds of Iron-gray (which mainly swet
Moist drops on all the world) drawne through the skie,
The helps of darknesse waited orderly.
First, thicke clouds rose from all the liquid plaines:
Then mists from Marishes, and grounds whose veines
Were Conduit-pipes to many a crystall spring:
From standing Pooles and Fens were following
Vnhealthy fogs: each Riuer, euery Rill
Sent vp their vapours to attend her will.
These, pitchie curtains drew, 'twixt earth & heauen.
And as Nights Chariot through the ayre was driuen,
Clamour grew dumb, vnheard was Shepheards song,
And silence girt the Woods; no warbling tongue
Talk'd to the Eccho; Satyres broke their dance,
And all the vpper world lay in a trance.
Onely the curled streames soft chidings kept;
And little gales that from the greene leafe swept
Dry Summers dust, in fearefull whisp'rings stir'd,
As loth to waken any singing Bird.
Darknesse no lesse then blinde Cimmerian
Of Famines Caue the full possession wan,
Where lay the Shepherdesse inwrapt with night,
(The wished garment of a mournfull wight)
Here silken slumbers and refreshing sleepe
Were seldome found; with quiet mindes those keepe,
Not with disturbed thoughts; the beds of Kings
Are neuer prest by them, sweet rest inrings
The tyred body of the swarty Clowne,
And oftner lies on flocks then softest downe.
Twice had the Cocke crowne, and in Cities strong
The Bel-mans dolefull noyse and carefull song,
Told men, whose watchfull eyes no slumber hent,
What store of houres theft-guilty night had spent.
Yet had not Morpheus with this Maiden been,
As fearing Limos; (whose impetuous teen
Kept gentle rest from all to whom his Caue
Yeelded inclosure (deadly as the graue.)
But to all sad laments left her (forlorne)
In which three watches she had nie outworne.
Faire siluer-footed Thetis that time threw
Along the Ocean with a beautious crew
Of her attending Sea-nymphs (Ioues bright Lamps
Guiding from Rocks her Chariots

Sea-horses.

Hippocamps.)
A iourney, onely made, vnwares to spye
If any Mighties of her Empery
Opprest the least, and forc'd the weaker sort
To their designes, by being great in Court.
O! should all Potentates whose higher birth
Enroles their titles, other Gods on earth,
Should they make priuate search, in vaile of night,
For cruell wrongs done by each Fauorite;
Here should they finde a great one paling in
A meane mans land, which many yeeres had bin
His charges life, and by the others heast,
The poore must starue to feed a scuruy beast.
If any recompence drop from his fist,
His time's his owne, the mony, what he list.
There should they see another that commands
His Farmers Teame from furrowing his lands,
To bring him stones to raise his building vast,
The while his Tenants sowing time is past.
Another (spending) doth his rents inhance,
Or gets by tricks the poores inheritance.
But as a man whose age hath dim'd his eyes,
Vseth his Spectacles, and as he pryes
Through them all Characters seeme wondrous faire,
Yet when his glasses quite remoued are
(Though with all carefull heed he neerly looke)
Cannot perceiue one tittle in the Booke;
So if a King behold such fauourites
(Whose being great, was being Parasites)
With th' eyes of fauour, all their actions are
To him appearing plaine and regular:
But let him lay his sight of grace aside,
And see what men he hath so dignifide,
They all would vanish, and not dare appeare,
Who Atom-like, when their Sun shined cleare,
Danc'd in his beame; but now his rayes are gone,
Of many hundred we perceiue not one.
Or as a man who standing to descry
How great floods farre off run, and vallies lye,
Taketh a glasse prospectiue good and true,
By which things most remote are full in view:
If Monarchs, so, would take an Instrument
Of truth compos'd to spie their Subiects drent
In foule oppression by those high in seat
(Who care not to be good but to be great)
In full aspect the wrongs of each degree
Would lye before them; and they then would see,
The diuellish Politician all conuinces,
In murdring Statesmen and in poisning Princes;
The Prelate in pluralities asleepe,
Whilst that the Wolfe lies preying on his sheepe;
The drowsie Lawyer, and the false Atturnies
Tire poore mens purses with their life-long-iournies;
The Country Gentleman, from's neighbours hand
Forceth th' inheritance, ioynes land to land,
And (most insatiate) seekes vnder his rent
To bring the worlds most spacious continent;
The fawning Citizen (whose loue's bought dearest)
Deceiues his brother when the Sun shines clearest,
Gets, borrowes, breakes, lets in, and stops out light,
And liues a Knaue to leaue his sonne a Knight;
The griping Farmer hoords the seed of bread,
Whilst in the streets the poore lye famished:
And free there's none from all this worldly strife,
Except the Shepherds heauen-blest happy life.
But stay sweet Muse! forbeare this harsher straine,
Keepe with the Shepherds; leaue the Satyres veine,
Coupe not with Beares: let Icarus alone
To scorch himselfe within the torrid Zone:
Let Phaëton run on, Ixion fall,
And with an humble stiled Pastorall
Tread through the vallies, dance about the streames,
The lowly Dales will yeeld vs Anadems
To shade our temples, 'tis a worthy meed,
No better girlond seekes mine Oaten Reed;
Let others climbe the hils, and to their praise
(Whilst I sit girt with Flowers) be crown'd with Bayes.
Shew now faire Muse what afterward became
Of great Achilles Mother; She whose name
The Mermaids sing, and tell the weeping strand
A brauer Lady neuer tript on land,
Except the euer-liuing Fayerie Queene,
Whose vertues by her Swaine so written beene,
That time shall call her high enhanced story
In his rare song, The Muses chiefest glory.
So mainly Thetis droue her siluer throne,
Inlaid with pearles of price, and precious stone,
(For whose gay purchase, she did often make
The scorched Negro diue the briny Lake)
That by the swiftnesse of her Chariot wheels
(Scouring the Maine as well-built English Keels)
She, of the new-found World all coasts had seene,
The shores of Thessaly, where she was Queene,
Her brother Pontus waues, imbrac'd, with those
Mœotian fields and vales of Tenedos,
Streit Hellespont, whose high-brow'd cliffes yet sound
The mournfull name of young Leander drown'd,
Then with full speed her Horses doth she guide
Through the Ægæan Sea, that takes a pride
In making difference twixt the fruitfull lands
Europe and Asia almost ioyning hands,
But that she thrusts her billowes all afront
To stop their meeting through the Hellespont.
The Midland Sea so swiftly was she scouring,
The Adriaticke gulfe braue Ships deuouring.
To Padus siluer streame then glides she on
(Enfamoused by rekelesse Phaëton)

Plin. lib. cap. 16.

Padus that doth beyond his limits rise,
When the hot Dog-starre raines his maladies,
And robs the high and ayre-inuading Alpes
Of all their Winter-suits and snowie scalpes,
To drowne the leuel'd lands along his shore,
And make him swell with pride. By whom of yore
The sacred Heliconian Damsels sate
(To whom was mighty Pindus consecrate)
And did decree (neglecting other men)
Their height of Art should flow from Maro's pen.
And pratling Eccho's euermore should long
For repetition of sweet Naso's song.
It was inacted here, in after dayes
What wights should haue their temples crown'd with Bayes.
Learn'd Ariosto, holy Petrarchs quill,
And Tasso should ascend the Muses hill.
Diuinest Bartas, whose enriched soule
Proclaim'd his Makers worth, should so enroule
His happy name in brasse, that Time nor Fate
That swallows all, should euer ruinate.
Delightfull Salust, whose all blessed layes
The Shepherds make their Hymnes on Holy-daies;
And truly say thou in one weeke hast pend
What time may euer study, ne're amend.
Marot and Ronsard, Garnier's buskind Muse
Should spirit of life in very stones infuse.
And many another Swan whose powerfull straine
Should raise the Golden World to life againe.
But let vs leaue (faire Muse) the bankes of Po,
Thetis forsooke his braue streame long agoe,
And we must after. See in haste she sweepes
Along the Celticke shores, th' Armorick deepes
She now is entring: beare vp then a head,
And by that time she hath discouered
Our Alablaster rocks, we may descry
And ken with her, the coasts of Britany.
There will she Anchor cast, to heare the Songs
Of English Shepherds, whose all-tunefull tongues
So pleas'd the Nayades, they did report
Their songs perfection in great Nereus Court:
Which Thetis hearing, did appoint a day
When she would meet them in the Brittish Sea,
And thither for each Swaine a Dolphin bring
To ride with her, whilst she would heare him sing.
The time prefixt was come; and now the Starre
Of blissefull light appear'd, when she her Carre
Staid in the narrow Seas. At Thames faire port
The Nymphes and Shepherds of the Isle resort.
And thence did put to Sea with mirthfull rounds,
Whereat the billowes dance aboue their bounds,
And bearded Goats, that on the clouded head
Of any sea-suruaying Mountaine fed,
Leauing to crop the Iuy, listning stood
At those sweet ayres which did intrance the flood
In iocund sort the Goddesse thus they met.
And after reu'rence done, all being set
Vpon their finny Coursers, round her throne,
And she prepar'd to cut the watry Zone
Ingirting Albion; all their pipes were still,
And Colin Clout began to tune his quill
With such deepe Art, that euery one was giuen
To thinke Apollo (newly slid from heau'n)
Had tane a humane shape to win his loue,
Or with the Westerne Swaines for glory stroue.
He sung th' heroicke Knights of Faiery land
In lines so elegant, of such command,
That had the

Orpheus.

Thracian plaid but halfe so well,
He had not left Eurydice in hell.
But e're he ended his melodious song
An host of Angels flew the clouds among,
And rapt this Swan from his attentiue mates,
To make him one of their associates
In heauens faire Quire: where now he sings the praise
Of him that is the first and last of dayes.
Diuinest Spencer heau'n-bred, happy Muse!
Would any power into my braine infuse
Thy worth, or all that Poets had before,
I could not praise till thou deseru'st no more.
A dampe of wonder and amazement strooke
Thetis attendants, many a heauy looke
Follow'd sweet Spencer, till the thickning ayre
Sights further passage stop'd. A passionate teare
Fell from each Nymph, no Shepherds cheeke was dry,
A dolefull Dirge, and mournfull Elegie
Flew to the shore. When mighty Nereus Queene
(In memory of what was heard and seene)
Imploy'd a Factor (fitted well with store
Of richest Iemmes, refined Indian Ore)
To raise, in honour of his worthy name,
A Piramis, whose head (like winged Fame)
Should pierce the clouds, yea seeme the stars to kisse,
And Mausolus great tombe might shrowd in his.
Her will had beene performance, had not Fate
(That neuer knew how to commiserate)
Suborn'd curs'd Auarice to lye in waight
For that rich prey: (Gold is a taking bait)
Who closely lurking like a subtile Snake
Vnder the couert of a thorny brake,
Seiz'd on the Factor by faire Thetis sent,
And rob'd our Colin of his Monument.
Yee English Shepherds, sonnes of Memory,
For Satyres change your pleasing melody,
Scourge, raile and curse that sacrilegious hand,
That more then Fiend of hell, that Stygian brand,
All-guilty Auarice: that worst of euill,
That gulfe-deuouring, off-spring of a Deuill:
Heape curse on curse so direfull and so fell,
Their weight may presse his damned soule to hell.
Is there a spirit so gentle can refraine
To torture such? O let a Satyres veine
Mix with that man! to lash this hellish lym,
Or all our curses will descend on him.
For mine owne part, although I now commerce
With lowly Shepherds, in as low a Verse;
If of my dayes I shall not see an end
Till more yeeres presse me; some few houres Ile spend
In rough-hewn Satyres, and my busied pen
Shall ierke to death this infamy of men.
And like a Fury, glowing coulters beare,
With which? But see how yonder fondlings teare
Their fleeces in the brakes; I must goe free
Them of their bonds; Rest you here merrily
Till my returne: when I will touch a string
Shall make the Riuers dance, and Vallies ring.