University of Virginia Library

To the Noble English Nation.

Renowned English! whom our Lines invite,
To view the acts of Warwicks worthy Knight;
Whose deeds of old, writ with an antient Pen,
Have now out-worn the memories of men.
Most strange in this same Poet plenty age,
Where Epigrams, and Satyres biting rage:
Where Paper is imployed every day,
To carry Verse about the Town for pay:
That Stories should intomb'd with Worthies lie,
And fame, through age extinct, obscurely die.
Dain to accept what Recreations hours,
Have spent upon this Country man of ours:
It seems too far unkind, that in those days.
We toil so much in other Nations praise,
That we neglect the famousing of our own,
Which over-matchfull unto them were known.
England hath bred such men of valour tri'd,
Could match all Kingdoms of the World beside,
Take here a view of Knight-hoods antient face,
His bruised Armour, and his bloody case:
His broken Launce, gapt Faulch'on, batter'd Shield,
His valiant Combates with his Foes in Field:
The wounds and scarrs insculpt upon his flesh,
His mortal fights renew'd each day afresh;
His reasons that did animate to Arms,
His freeing tender Ladies from their harms;
His hacked Target, and his splinter'd Spear,
His killing Serpents, savage Bore, and bear.
Then looke on some, in ages since be-knighted,
Who never were with Martial deeds delighted:
That are no kin to them which went of old
In Iron Armour, these are Knights in gold:
And you shall see that one doth wear the Name,
When th' others actions merit for the same.
The same for merit was renowned Guy,
A Champion that his fame with blood did buy;
And never held his life in coward fear,
But ventur'd it at point of sword and spear:
He was a prodigal of life and lim,
And bade all welcome, came to fight with him:
Were it a Giant like to Gogmagog,
Or Cerberus, that Triple-headed Dog,
Or he that often did Olympus climbe,
And was the onely Club-man of his time,
Great Hercules, if he had breath'd on ground,
When English Guy of Warwick liv'd renown'd,
There would have been a combate 'twixt them two,
To try what stout Alcides force could do:
Or Hector, whose applaud the world doth know,
Or fierce Achilles, fearfull to his Foe.
Had all these liv'd together in an age,
They had been Combatants, the earth their stage.
Kind English, yield unto your Country-man
As gentle entertainment as you can:
Though he lie quiet now transform'd to dust,
Sleeping in death, as other Mortalls must:
With your life-giving breath, revive his Fame,
That hath deserv'd an honourable name.
And having view'd his Actions, wish with me,
That all the Knights we have, were such as he.