Commendatory poems | ||
To my deseruedly beloued and worthy Friend and Countriman Mr. Iohn Gwillim, touching his display of the Honourable Art of ARMORY.
Thy Name, thy Countrey, and thy matchlesse ArtIncites my Muse to raise her Armes of pow'r,
With praises to lay open thy desert,
To make it all-deuouring Time deuoure.
But (oh) a small Reward it is to get,
But Fame, too Cheape, for that which cost so deere,
As Time, and Paines, and Cost; and all three, great;
Yet that's the most, the most doe looke for heere.
Thou hast reduc'd an Art (much like our Law)
Vnmethodiz'd, to such a Method now,
That the whole Art, that was before but raw,
Is made most ripe in Rules the same to know:
Heere, all the Termes by which the Art is knowne,
And the least Particle of each least Part,
Are so Anatomized, and strictly showne,
That All may see the Soule of all this Art.
Heere, all the Bearings, both of Beasts and Birds,
Of Fish, Flies, Flowers, Stone, and each minerall,
Of Planets, Starres, and all, that All affords,
Are made by Art, appeare most naturall.
So that this Worke, did ransacke Heauen and Earth,
Yea Natures bulke it selfe, or all that is
In Nature hid, before this Booke had birth,
To shew this Art by them, and them by this:
Then, Natures Secretary we may stile
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Plinius Secundus call thee; sith (the while,
Rare Herald) thou dost Natures Armes display;
So that we cannot hold him Generous,
(If squar'd by Rules of Generosity,)
That will not haue this Booke (composed thus)
To vnderstand Himselfe, and It thereby.
For, heere by Armes (as sometimes Ships at Sea)
Is seene how Houses grapple, but for Peace;
Yet (being ioined) distinguisht so they be,
That we may see them (seuerall) peece by peece.
For, the whole Body to these Armes thou hast,
So cleerely purg'd from sad Obscurity,
That now this Art in FRONT may well be plac'd
Of Arts that shine in Perspicuity.
And if before, the same seem'd most abstruse;
Now, hast thou (for WALES glory, and thine owne
Rare BRITAINE) made it facill for our vse,
Sith vnconfusedly the same is showne:
Then, all that honour Armes must honour Thee,
That hast made Armes from all confusion Free.
Iohn Davies of Hereford.
Commendatory poems | ||