The Poems of Henry Howard Earl of Surrey: Frederick Morgan Padelford: Revised Edition |
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| ELEGIAC POEMS |
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 | The Poems of Henry Howard |  |
ELEGIAC POEMS
44 A TRIBUTE TO WYATT
In the rude age when scyence was not so rife,If Jove in Crete, and other where they taught
Artes to reverte to profyte of our lyfe,
Wan after deathe to have their temples sought;
If vertue yet, in no vnthankful tyme,
Fayled of some to blast her endles fame—
A goodlie meane bothe to deter from cryme
And to her steppes our sequell to enflame;
In deyes of treuthe, if Wyattes frendes then waile—
The onelye debte that ded of quycke may clayme—
That rare wit spent, employde to our avayle,
Where Christe is taught, deserve they mannis blame?
His livelie face thy brest how did it freate,
Whose cynders yet with envye doo the eate.
45 A SECOND TRIBUTE TO WYATT
Dyvers thy death doo dyverslye bemone.Some, that in presence of that livelye hedd
Lurked, whose brestes envye with hate had sowne,
Yeld Cesars teres vppon Pompeius hedd.
Some, that watched with the murdrers knyfe,
With egre thurst to drynke thy guyltles blood,
Whose practyse brake by happye end of lyfe,
Weape envyous teares to here thy fame so good.
But I that knewe what harbourd in that hedd,
What vertues rare were temperd in that brest,
Honour the place that such a iewell bredd,
And kysse the ground, where as thy coorse doth rest,
With vaporde eyes; from whence suche streames avayle
As Pyramus did on Thisbes brest bewayle.
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46 A THIRD TRIBUTE TO WYATT
W. resteth here, that quick could neuer rest;
Whose heauenly giftes encreased by disdain,
And vertue sank the deper in his brest:
Such profit he by enuy could obtain.
Whose heauenly giftes encreased by disdain,
And vertue sank the deper in his brest:
Such profit he by enuy could obtain.
A hed, where wisdom misteries did frame;
Whose hammers bet styll in that liuely brayn
As on a stithe, where that some work of fame
Was dayly wrought, to turne to Britaines gayn.
Whose hammers bet styll in that liuely brayn
As on a stithe, where that some work of fame
Was dayly wrought, to turne to Britaines gayn.
A visage, stern and myld; where bothe did grow,
Vice to contemne, in vertue to reioyce;
Amid great stormes, whom grace assured so,
To lyue vpright, and smile at fortunes choyce.
Vice to contemne, in vertue to reioyce;
Amid great stormes, whom grace assured so,
To lyue vpright, and smile at fortunes choyce.
A hand, that taught what might be sayd in ryme;
That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit;
A mark, the which—vnparfited, for time—
Some may approche, but neuer non shall hit.
That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit;
A mark, the which—vnparfited, for time—
Some may approche, but neuer non shall hit.
A toung, that serued in forein realmes his king;
Whose courteous talke to vertue did enflame
Eche noble hart; a worthy guide to bring
Our English youth, by trauail, vnto fame.
Whose courteous talke to vertue did enflame
Eche noble hart; a worthy guide to bring
Our English youth, by trauail, vnto fame.
An eye, whose iudgement none affect could blinde,
Frendes to allure, and foes to reconcile;
Whose persing loke did represent a mynde
With vertue fraught, reposed, voyd of gyle.
Frendes to allure, and foes to reconcile;
Whose persing loke did represent a mynde
With vertue fraught, reposed, voyd of gyle.
A hart, where drede was neuer so imprest
To hyde the thought that might the trouth auance;
In neyther fortune lost, nor yet represt,
To swell in wealth, or yeld vnto mischance.
To hyde the thought that might the trouth auance;
In neyther fortune lost, nor yet represt,
To swell in wealth, or yeld vnto mischance.
A valiant corps, where force and beawty met,
Happy, alas! to happy, but for foes,
Lieud, and ran the race that nature set;
Of manhodes shape, where she the molde did lose.
Happy, alas! to happy, but for foes,
Lieud, and ran the race that nature set;
Of manhodes shape, where she the molde did lose.
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But to the heauens that simple soule is fled;
Which left with such, as couet Christ to know,
Witnesse of faith that neuer shall be ded;
Sent for our helth, but not receiued so.
Which left with such, as couet Christ to know,
Witnesse of faith that neuer shall be ded;
Sent for our helth, but not receiued so.
Thus, for our gilte, this iewel haue we lost;
The earth his bones, the heavens possesse his gost.
The earth his bones, the heavens possesse his gost.
47 A TRIBUTE TO THOMAS CLERE
Norfolk sprang thee, Lambeth holds thee dead,Clere, of the County of Cleremont, though hight.
Within the womb of Ormonds race thou bred,
And sawest thy cousin crowned in thy sight.
Shelton for love, Surrey for lord, thou chase;—
Aye, me! while life did last that league was tender.
Tracing whose steps thou sawest Kelsall blaze,
Laundersey burnt, and battered Bullen render.
At Muttrel gates, hopeless of all recure,
Thine Earl, half dead, gave in thy hand his will;
Which cause did thee this pining death procure,
Ere summers four times seven thou couldst fulfill.
Ah, Clere! if love had booted, care, or cost,
Heaven had not wonne, nor earth so timely lost.
| The Poems of Henry Howard | |