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To his daughter.

Eleg. 7.

You wretten letters now prepare, the Harolds of my minde,
To see Perhilla how she fares, wyth hast I haue assinde,
You shall her finde, full sadlye set, fast by her mother sweete,
Or els among her bookes alone, and learned muses meete.
But when she knowes that thou art come, (all studyes set aside)
What thinge I do she will demaunde, and in what state I bide.
Then shalt thou say I liue although, not so as liue I would,
Nor tract of time hath brought reliefe, as hope hath hopt it should.
To muses yet (though hurt they haue) againe I do retyre,
And verses eke of wrested words, to make I haue desyre.
But tell me now? to studyes old, dost thou thy minde applye?
To learned verse thy father like, wilt thou thy selfe affye?
For nature with the frendly fates, hath geuen the maners chast,
And sondry giftes but rarely seene, with wit good store thou hast.
To Pegace pleasant springes, my selfe, of purpose brought the furst,
Least that thy vaine of facound speache, might perishe els for thurst.
In chastest yeares I noted well, the aptnes of thy braine,
And as thy father did the gide, the way to learning plaine.
Euen then I saye (but loue perhaps, wyth time is driuen away)
A passing loue to thee I had, which hardly could decay.
Wherefore if selfe same sparkes of wit, in the do still remayne,
But onlye Sappoes learned workes, shall thine in skil distayne.
And nowe I feare least my mishaps, might thee percase appall,
Or through the same some dolenes may, within thy breast befall.
While time did serue thy verse to mee, and myne to thee I redde,
And now as Iudge I was, and now, as tutor I thee ledde.
Or els sometimes wyth verses made, thine eares I did approue.
Or finding fault: in blushing cheekes, the bloude sometimes did moue.
Like me perchaunce for that my bookes, haue hindered me so sore,
For feare of like mischaunce thou wil, thy studyes leaue therefore.
Naye feare thou not Perhilla deare, this doubting dred remoue,
So that no man of that thy verse, nor woman learne to loue.
Set slouth therefore alwayes asyde (O thou most learned dame.)
To sacred lore and Authors turne, let it not thee ashame.
Thy fauor freshe wyth beuty fraught, shall fade in longer space,
And wrinckled age shall then appeare, vppon thine elder face.
When eluishe eld vppon thy shape, hath done her force and might,
Who stil drawes neare wyth stelthye steps, to worke thy greuous spight.
It wil the greue when some shal say, this wight she hath beene fayre,
And loking in thy wonted glasse, for sorrow shalt despayre.
Thou hast of wealth a metely minde, yet dost deserue much more,
Enriche thy noble wit likewyse, with like abundaunt store.
For fortune doth both geeue and take, and chaunge eche mans estate,
And Hirus now he is become, that Cresus was but late.
What needes more words? all mortall goodes, be lightly spent and gone,
Saue those which in thy brest be hid, and minde except alone.
Lo while of house and country both, and thee I was bereft,
And of eche other thinge depriude, and naught at all was left.
My wittes my mates they left, although, I did enioy them still,
Of them no right could Cæsar serue, whereby to worke his will.
Eche man by force of cruell sword, my life may sone depriue,
Yet shall my fame though I be dead, remaine alwayes aliue.
While martiall Rome frō mountaynes seuen, the conquered world behold,
My learned workes shal stil be read, and fame for aye be told.
And thou also that happyer vse, of studyes dost enioye,
In what thou may flee hasting death, which earthly life destroye.