A Lamentable, and pitifull Description, of the wofull warres in Flaunders since the foure last yeares of the Emperor Charles the fifth his raigne. With a briefe rehearsall of many things done since that season, vntill this present yeare, and death of Don Iohn. Written by Thomas Churchyarde |
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Flaunders bewayles with bitter sorovv, the soare affliction of hir state and Countrey. |
 | A Lamentable, and pitifull Description, of the wofull warres in Flaunders |  |
Flaunders bewayles with bitter sorovv, the soare affliction of hir state and Countrey.
The vvife, that hath hir husband lost,alone may sit and vvaile,
Whose teares faste trickle dovvne hir cheekes
as thicke as shovvres of hayle.
The friend that farre is from his feere,
and vvants a faithfull mate,
By vievve of foe, and fraude of vvorld,
lamentes his losse to late.
The labring man, that sees his land
lye vvaste for vvant of plovve,
And can not vvell supply his lack,
is fraught vvith sorovv throvv.
The sadde and heauie minded vvight,
(of ioy that takes no holde,)
As mirth forsakes the striken breast,
hath hart full deade and colde.
The Merchaunt vvhom the Pyrate spoyles,
and in vvide vvorld is last,
May blame the vviles of vvicked heades,
and cursse their cunning crafte.
The Captaine vvhich no souldiers hath,
vvho lost his force by fight,
and sorrovves day and night.
But none of those compares vvith me,
that left am as you knovv,
In friendlesse sort, vvith many babes,
like vvidovve full of vvoe:
That each man vvrongs and fevve do help,
and in myne aged dayes,
Am made a pray to people straunge,
that plagues me many vvayes.
I flourisht once in pompe and pride,
beyonde my neyghbours all,
But vvhere apace came in the tide,
novv floud beginnes to fall:
And at lovve vvater marke I stand,
that earst haue floated stil,
My hauen mouth is chokt vvith sande,
my loades men lacke the skil,
To passe the strayghtes, and safely bring,
my barcke to quiet port.
Novv vvaste and empty lye the tovvnes
vvherein vvas greatre sort.
And vvhere my Merchaunts trafficke kept,
novv men of vvarre do flocke,
And vvhere the gates vvide open stoode,
vvith barres and double locke
and bulvvarkes still vve make,
And ore the vvalles the Cannon rores,
vvhereat our houses shake.
Our hartes in breast do tremble too,
vvhen vve beholde this change,
O ruinous lande, oh soyle forlorne,
oh dolefull destnie strange,
That throvves a vvelthie countrey dovvne,
and maketh straungers raigne
On harmelesse folke, and silly soules,
and simple people plaine.
My fall (alas) I see at hande,
and vvhere vvas most my ioy,
The tovvne vvhere al my triumph vvas,
shall be a seconde Troy.
Oh Antvverp, vvepe thy fatall chaunge,
thy filth hath vvrought thy foyle,
Thou vvast the pirate of the vvorld,
that didst all nations spoyle.
And novv I feare for thy foule factes,
the vvorld shall ring on thee,
For by my scourge and common plague,
thy drearie date I see.
Yea manie stately tovvnes beside,
vvel vvallde and peopled both,
to vvracke and mischiefe goth.
I vvas puft vp vvith Princely povvre,
and vvorthie vvariours stoute,
Who stoode like friends, vvith push of pike,
to keepe proude enmies out.
And vvhiles in deede vve drevve one yoake,
great things poore Flaunders did,
Whose former fame, and bright renovvme,
in darkenesse novv lyes hid.
Bycause my pillers shrinke in hoales,
my nobles sevred are,
And for to please a forraine foe,
casts off their countrey care.
We neuer fearde our fall, til novv,
the Faggots bande is broke,
And stickes flee out, yea all the house
is full of flame and smoke.
And in this heate and smother foule,
the enmy spies his time,
And finely layes to catch the birdes,
the suttle snares and lime.
O vvilfull vvaste and blindenesse great,
that vvill not see the sore,
Where bile begins to beale and burst,
and breedes a canckred core.
at markes past reasons reatch,
O frovvard flocke, and schollers rude,
that no scholeman may teach.
O vvretched members of my state,
that teares in sunder all,
And seekes to giue a cunning trippe,
to soote that vvould not fall.
O carreine Crovves, that follovv fleshe,
and flee the fruite of spreete,
O tipsie brains, and senselesse heads,
that knovves not sovvre from svveete.
My glorie had not so declinde,
had you your duetie done,
You haue no stay, your steppes do slyde,
your feete a gadding runne.
Ful many yeares, as cause you had,
to Englands aide you stoode,
And alvvaies leaned to that lande,
that most might do you good:
And novv to strangers, frame your selues.
your flytting may proue vvell,
But vvith the colde conceite of this,
in care doth Flaunders dvvell.
My care is lesse, though shame be much,
for your offence and foyle,
and I the only soyle,
That some shootes at, and playes vpon,
vvhat play, oh Lord, he knovves.
Some come as they vvere lookers on,
but some haue longer vvoes,
That reacheth to the highest cloudes:
your quaffing sees not that,
You svvallovv vp a Cammel great,
and snatche a little gnatte.
I liste no further speake of faults,
nor teache you to agree,
But hovv so ere the matter goes,
I vvarne you looke to mee.
O staggring state that reeleth still,
yet looke vnto thy strength,
Or else my povvre and name shall slyde,
and thou shalt fall at length,
And make a crack, as though in deede,
ten thousand trees fell dovvne,
O members mine, that me forgets,
yet loke to Antvverpe tovvne,
That long hath lasted to my fame,
and stoode vvith greatest peeres,
With svvorde and shotte in open plaine,
this many hundreth yeeres.
What shoulde I further speake,
When might decayes, and force of man,
by finesse vvaxeth vveake.
My members must giue place to time,
and I therevvith decay,
As frost and Snovv, and cakes of Ise,
do melt on Sommers daye.
The heat of my good hap is gon,
the prime of pompe is past,
And as the vvarmth forsakes the vvorld,
the colde comes on as fast.
The Spring but threatens fal of leafe,
all bravrie beggrie brings,
He vvepes in vvant, that first in vvelth,
and toppe of triumph sings.
Yet vvellavvay, and stil vvo vvorrh,
the causers of my crie,
Who rockes my people fast asleepe,
vvith many a farced lye.
And fables forced for the nonce,
oh pause I go too farre,
My slouth, or sinne, or foule carovvse,
is cause of all this vvarre:
That bybbing vp deep bovvles of vvine,
vvent drousie home to bedde.
in sober suttel hed.
Well, since my faulte, as people say,
is partly cause of this,
I must require the vvondring vvorld,
to take it as it is:
And by the same, a mirror make,
that they in one agree,
And seeke throvv loue and good accorde,
to shunne the plagues of me,
Who novv laments, and cryes alas,
too late as vvisedome shoes,
And am compeld in hard extreames,
to yeelde to mortall foes.
FINIS.
| A Lamentable, and pitifull Description, of the wofull warres in Flaunders | |