 | The Passionate Sparke of a Relenting Minde |  |
To the King his Maiestie.
1
Go thou proud Muse with thy ambitious flightLet Wisdome with her pleasing plumes adorn thee
If lofty thou should'st soare thy selfe from sight,
What need'st thou care, the worlds Enuy to scorn thee?
2
Let Heau'ns thy Song with Ecchoes still resound,A Royall Subiect doth thy wings vpholde,
And bids thee Mount aboue the valted Round,
Loue hath no scope, bee prodigall and bolde.
3
Go then my Muse His mightie Muse adorePull of the Veile that hid thy high desire
With consort sweet she shall thy song decore,
Her feathers faire giu's promise to aspire.
4
Then like the Larke ascen'd the Azure Ayre,With quiu'ring wings goe houer in the skye,
Out blast thy Notes, and send them here and there
Filling his eares with this melodious Crye.
5
O mightie King, Celestiall glory shineOuer thy Crowne and thy earth'ruling hand,
Let harts inspir'd thy happines deuine:
And let the world come stoupe at thy command.
6
Fame through this Globe most furious-like shall thūderFraught with thy praise on Vertues worth to flee
And choke the Earth with such admiring wonder
That potent Kings may come and honor thee.
7
Hartes shall Consume, of thy astonish'd foesTo see thy rare and high stupendious street
All pane at (whereon thou sacred goes)
With Crownes and Scepters thrown before thy feet.
8
Why hear'st thou not thy smiling Fortune call,And bids thee spurne that pleasure mak's thee stay?
Goe climbe her wheell, be not afraide to fall
Thy strength but thinks this world a sleuder pray.
9
Seeke first thy owne, what force can thee resist?A name with nought, makes all thy people rage
Like eager Haukes, reteinde vpon the fist,
Who cannot haue their hunger to asswage.
10
The Apple stayes the simple Childe to weepe,And doth appease his sobbing heart of harmes:
So flatt'ring songes lulles courage fast a sleepe,
And makes the Souldier throw away his Armes.
11
Now sits he wrapt vp in a warme furr'd gowne,Ouer the fire with firme-fixt-gazing eyes:
There battels braue Characters doth set downe,
Hee apprehends which thought deceiuing sees
12
An Armie there in bloudy rage forth goes,With furie for'st, swelde with reuenge and griefe:
And yonder flyes their faint and feeble foes,
Heere standes some troopes cut of without reliefe.
13
Some Martiall men bewitch't with beauty rare,Are intricate in Laborinthes of Loue:
And for'st to trie in fancies flatt'ring snare,
What sweet-mixt-sowre or pleasing paines can proue.
14
Then Nymph-like-she with strange intising lookeDoth so inchant the gallant minded men
The bayte still hides the poyson of the hooke
Till they be fast, and thus betray'd, what then?
15
Poore captiue slaues in bondage prostrate liesYeelding vnto her mercy-wanting-will
Shee in disdaine scornes all their carefull cries.
And Circes-like triumphes in learned skill.
16
With ambling trippes of beauties gorgeous graceAurora-like in firie colors clad
And with bright reflex of her fairest face
She tempting goes with brainsicke humors lad.
17
Fearing that if she should but looke belowThen Beames would from her burning eyes descend
On Iuory brest proud swelling hils of snow
Would melt, consume, and all their beauty spend.
18
And so she lets her curled lockes downe fallWhich do allure the gentle cooling winde
To come and play stil wrapping vp in thrall
Chaines of her haire, fonde louers hearts to binde.
19
Beautie in prime adorn'd doth feede the sightFrom Crimson lipps sweet Nectars gust forth flowes
Odor's perfumes the breath, not Natures right
White Iuorie hands a sacred touch bestowes.
20
And when those pearle of Orientall-rankesWith treasure rich of tempting sound deuides
From two bright daintie mouing-corall-bankes
In-circkled eares calme smothing speeches slides.
21
Ech sencelesse sence on doting pleasure fastDoth in a carelesse Register inroule.
Wishing that course of swift-wing'd Time to last
Which spots the spotlesse substance of the soule.
22
But oh beholde, Nature in morning weedeWepes to be wrong'd with supesttitious Art
For what can braines of rare inuention breede?
Or what's vnsought which pleasure may impart?
23
The sharpest wit whose quicke deceiuing stillMakes restlesse musing of their minde to try
Vaine trifling snares, mixtur'd with Magicks skill
So Art adds that which Nature doth deny.
24
And thus much more sweete Syrens songs she sounds,To charme, coniure and tempt his listning eare:
Oh, then the poore Captiued wretch abounds
In peruerse vowes and monstrous othes to sweare.
25
By furious force of Fancy more than madd,With fond desire in restlesse course hee hunts:
Blinde Loue can not discerne the good from badd,
When on the eye-plumde tayle of pride it mounts.
26
The curious minde makes choise of good or ill,Then scales the fort of his engine to clym
Aboue the top of Art-exceeding skill,
Perfect in that predominates in him.
27
Drunke with the wonders of a worthlesse worth,From prospect of a looking glasse he takes
Strange Apish trickes to set his folly forth,
Mockt with the gesture, that his shadow makes.
28
When foolish feates no waies will serue his turne,All hope is drownd in despaires groundlesse deepe:
In restlesse bed (hee martir'd man) must mourne,
Thoughts, sighes, and teares admitt no kind of sleep.
29
Thus layes the Conquest Conquerour of fieldeson his hurte harte he carries Cupids skarre.
The skiruie fainting Coward basely yieldes:
to idle Loue the enemie of warre.
30
Now Trumpets sounde, braue Martiall musick turnesTo fiddling noise, or ells some am'rous songe,
That glorious fame her winges of worth now burnes,
When golden youth in prime must suffer wronge.
31
Thus gallant sprights doe quintesence their wittes,Spending the rare inuention of their braines,
On idle toyes, at which high honor spittes,
Nor memoriz'd memorials remaines.
32
What Marble minde at this would not amaze,To see the ambusht robberies and spoyles,
O Royall Sir, with Conquering eyes now gaze,
Conquer this losse tha'ts lost in all thy soyles.
33
Goe, goe, and make the skiruie world to yielde (force)Which trembling stoopes, made feareful with thy
Outsprede an host vpon ech forreigne fielde:
And from selfe pleasure, doe they selfe diuorce.
34
(But stay my Muse recall this word of woe)Thy selfe shall with thy second selfe abide,
The glorious issue of thy loynes shall goe
His honor shall the proude earths honor hide.
35
It's he the florish of thy Princely prime,It's he that Kings are made for to adore
It's he bewayles the slow and tardy time,
It's he that weepes there is not worlds in store.
36
It's he that with a greater Courage com's,Than Godfrey did to sackt the Pagan Turke
With Trūpets sounds & with great noise of Drum's,
It's wondrous hee will set this world on wourke.
37
In his approch allegreat thy owne,With mightie Musicke of a Martiall mirth.
Beholde thou mak'st great Neptunes pride be showne,
Adorning him with such a gorgeous birth.
38
Let matchlesse marching-Castles with the winde,In Armies strong and stately troopes forth shine:
Now let them goe as harbingers to finde,
Ech vnknowne Coast and tell them all is thine.
39
Looke on that power that potent thou Commands,In learned Militarie Art, and how,
Thy eager-harted ventring Subiects stands
Wayting that Gallant warriours word. Goe tow,
40
Then doe not stay Victorious Troph's to raise,Let my Tryumphes through Sea and earth be spred,
When thou art dead high fame shall pen thy praise,
Of great renowne in volumes to be read.
41
Thou Eagle thou looke not on base fowles winges,Out-stretch thy owne and flye this world about.
Thou Lyon thou leaue beasts and hunt at Kinges,
From their vsurped dennes goe rouse them out.
42
Prowde Valor for the vangard shall make strife,And loftie sprights for Honor will aduance.
Let him be loath'd that loth's to loose his life,
Or in thy quarrell skornes to trye his chaunce.
43
He will be first who dying liu'd to see,This soyle thy right gouern'd with thy great grace:
And that blacke mist of vap'rous clowdes to flee
Which long obscur'd the splendors of thy face.
44
O, when he heard thy peoples ioy proclameThe righteous King in their exalting Cryes,
And when he heard them sound thy sacred Name,
He threw his hatte vp in the azure skies.
45
On the Tow'rs toppe incarcerat he stood,And said, O rare and sweete exchange in deede!
Thou fleetst on Neptunes dutie-paying flood,
Hatte, thou art lost, and I haue gainde a heade;
46
His Lady staide her sweete eyes siluer streames,The hart-burst sighes which ye deere dame did breath:
Thou with the radiāt brightnes of thy beames
Expeld her woes, and his vntimely death.
47
Pittie in thee doth Pitties selfe surpasse,With pittie heare thy peoples mourninge songes:
Looke in abuse, as in a looking glasse,
Appease this plague of their pestif'rous wronges
48
With treasure rich and rare adorning giftesOf Iustice ioynde with mercy both in one:
See how the worngde Complainer kneeling liftes,
His hands, his eyes, and sighes with martring mone.
49
He saies O Sir I would to God thou sawe,What numbers great, Damn'd Vsurie doth kill
The snakye Lawyer with vnlawfull lawe
He suckes the hartblood of his Clients still,
50
His hopelesse shiftes will promise very fayer,And take their soule, if that their soule were golde
He robbes them first, then drownes them in dispaire,
So poore mens right, is to the rich men solde.
51
To come to thee alas they'r chokte with feare,Some are put backe, when kneeling on their knees
Doe what they can before they get thy eare,
The bribrous Minion, needes will haue his fees.
52
He takes in hand ech sute both great or small,And sweares they'r sure yea to them surely lost.
For first he tryes the walue of them all,
And selles them quite to those that will giue most.
53
When dayes, weekes, moneths, and yeeres are spent (he telles)The Kinge will no waies graunt your sutes; farewell,
This whorles the poore man in a hundred helles
Both them and theirs to begge, to robbe, and steale.
[_]
The stanza numbers from the source document have been followed from stanza 53 to the end of the poem.
53
O Heau'ns what filthie Colors can I haue.To painte such vgly Monsters in their kinde:
They flatter most when they would most deceaue,
There hony tonges stinges with a Vip'rous minde.
54
It's this vile Caterpillers Mischeifes-Nurse,That fills thy Commons full of sad Complaintes,
Thou com'st to cure this strange consuming Curse,
At which I know thy ruthfull hart relents.
55
I care not for the falty-ons enuie,I know this Phisicke makes his soule to smart:
O that it could both make him Weepe and Crie.
Whil'st Conscience-worme eates vp his giltie hart.
56
Spare not Reuenge, God sends thee to redresse,Long-suffring-greife, and Rigor to remoue
Treade down their heads ye would the poore oppresse
So shalt thou win and keepe thy peoples loue.
57
Still may thy loue with their true loue be bought,Still may thy Crown bring Crownes vpon thy Crown
Still may thy worth with wond'rous worth be wrought
Stil may renowne inrich thy rich renowne.
58
Still maist thou reigne in happines and health.And still mayst thou in being euer bee:
Belieue me Sir my loue is all my wealth,
And all that wealth I sacrifice to thee.
So only Loue hath giuen my Muse this flight,
And makes her come salute thy sacred sight.
FINIS.
Of a Bee.
Madrigall.
De l' Ape ch' Io prouai Dolce, e Crudele
Le ago nel Core, Nella bocca La mele.
Le ago nel Core, Nella bocca La mele.
Once did I see
a sounding Bee.
Amongst her sweetned swarme
still would shee flee
and fauour me.
Then did I dread no harme.
a sounding Bee.
Amongst her sweetned swarme
still would shee flee
and fauour me.
Then did I dread no harme.
Now whilst in Nectred-glory of her gaines,
Shee sitts and suckes the fayre well-florisht flower:
My sugred hopes are turn'd to bitter paines,
And lookt-for-sweete is nothing elles but sower
Ah cruell sweete Bee sweet and cure my smart,
Honny my mouth, but doe not stinge my hart.
Shee sitts and suckes the fayre well-florisht flower:
My sugred hopes are turn'd to bitter paines,
And lookt-for-sweete is nothing elles but sower
Ah cruell sweete Bee sweet and cure my smart,
Honny my mouth, but doe not stinge my hart.
FINIS.
To the famous Ile of Glorious Britannie.
1
On Parnasse hill whilst as I sit to sing,Of stately ioy the streames that by me slides:
Sweet consort yeelds from the Castalean spring
Whose murmure still in Siluer veines deuides,
Then intricate with courses to and fro,
They seeme to turne whil'st as with speed they go.
2
The Muses scarse in circuit is sat downe,When Laureat troopes comes kneeling mee before,
In humble show ech takes his Lawrell Crowne,
And sweares they shall this subiect all adore:
So am I forc'd by thee, O wondrous worth!
In warbling notes sweete consorts to send forth.
3
With nine-voyc'd mouth, my Delphin song I sound,Of all the world blest bee thou Brittaines Ile.
Thou, onely thou within this mortall round
On whom the Heau'ns haue lou'de so long to smile
For Phœnix-like thou hast renewde by kinde
In getting that which lay for thee inshrinde.
4
Thy present time doth winter-blast dispaireAt force of Ioy the barren branch decayes
Long florish'd hope now fruitfull is and faire
Whose lod'ned birth with burthen bowes the bayes,
So downeward tops inclining still below
Such homage to their owner do they show.
5
Then soyle in this most happie haru'st your rightRipe sweete desire in spight of vilde Enuie
So shall you with your Monarches-matching-might
Make earthly Kings to feare your conqu'ring crie
The circuit of this spatious Ball at length
shall yeeld vnto your armie-potent-strength,
6
As sounds below relents the Ayer aboueThat hideous noyse of Thunderclaps may swage
So proud vsurping mindes shall stoope to mooue
The Lion redd to stay his roring rage
Their honors high when he hath made them thrall
Since with his force their forcelesse force must fall.
7
Hee threatens th' earth with such tryumphant mightThat makes his foes afraid to heare his name
On Vertues wings oreshinde with honors light
Borne through the world with euer flying fame
Which still the Eccho of his might resounds
A terror threatning these terrestiall bounds.
8
His Scepter proud and his great conqu'ring handWill erect Troph's of high Triumphes on all
Earth-ruling mindes stooping at his commaund
Adorn'd they are by him to bee made thrall.
So Monarch hee must cause ech potent King,
For him and his rich tributes for to bring.
9
No treasons gilt, such threatningss can abideNor Vipers vilde who cates their tongues to barke
With feares confus'd must needs their selues go hide
And lye obscure in the Cemerian darke.
From light debar'd to preslage Plutoes place
Where mōstrous spirits such mōsters shal imbrace
10
Sweld with Enuie and poys'ned great with griefeMost serpent-like spewes Vennome on their owne
Damn'd harts abhord whose mutins breeds mischief
They with their selfe, their selfe shall bee orethrowne.
So diu'llish braynes brings restlesse murther still
They filthie frogs ech one shall other kill.
11
Then subiects true on honors throne set forthNo death your eternized life can end
For famous feates ad's wonders to such worth.
And truth still doth a shining light out-send
Whose glancing beames reflexing heere and there
By flowing quilles of Poets are made rare.
12
Now happie Ile sequestred liues no moreSince ioyn'de expell the excrements of wrath
And let their foule ambitious factes implore
Their owne orethrow and well-deseruing death.
Rase downe, tread on their turrets of Enuie
Whose pride would mount aboue the valted skie.
13
The Register of Memorie beholdeHow God of wonders, wondrous works hath wrought
When life past hope to Treason was solde,
Till threatning-death in dangers mouth him brought
In such extremes deathes ambush was in vaine
For Heau'ns strong hand did saue him stil vnflaine.
14
All high attempts of deu'llish foes was foyldAll hideous noise of horrors did asswage
All tragike troopes of hellish thoughts was spoylde
And rigors selfe gaue rigor to their rage
Ensignes displaid whose terror them confounds
Whilst conqu'ring Ioy victorious trumpet sounds.
15
The ship which death with tempests grief did threat'nAnd gulfes of seas was readie to deuoure
When restlesse-mercy-wanting-stormes had beat'n
At last came safe vnto her long-sought shore.
So heau'n now brings him to his hau'ning place
Still to succeed to him and all his race.
16
The vpright in each true externall thingBewrayes the force hart-burnig-loue doth yeald
For smiling lookes of such a gratious King
Shall make your loue with life and blood be seald,
Vnworthie to enioy this mortall breath
Who for this King or countrey feares their death.
17
The Altar is a spotlesse minde whereonYou sacrifice and offer vp good-will
Loue yeelds the fuell from the hart alon
Which once inflam'd is quenchlesse burning still
Then Martiall feates shall breed couragious strife,
In battels braue to trye a carelesse life.
18
Though the Idæa of your long desireVnsetled Time obscures him for a space
Yet shall this Time with comming Time expire
And then receiue fruition of his face
Who Iustice seekes, his wisedomes eyes shall see
With Reasons right each may contented bee.
19
Lo Spring-time comes, long dark'ned Sun com's outAll to renew that Winter blastes had spoil'd
When sending forth, his gorgeous beames about,
Hopes haru'st expel's which high dispaire had foil'd
So hope triumphes, dispaire lies quite o'rethrowne
Sweet Soyle yu hast which God hath made thine own.
20
Misconster not his well-inclining-mindeDoo not mistrust, for Triall lurkes in Time
Why to his Kingdomes shall hee prooue vnkinde,
And glorie stayne of his adorning prime?
No counsaile can make him become so strange,
Nor earthly pompe his burning loue to change.
21
Murmour no more nor bee not discontentWhen constant loue and spotlesse Iustice stands
With eager piercing lookes for to preuent
All kinde of foule oppression in his lands.
This is the right inricheth his renowne,
This is the oath made to his royall Crowne.
22
And you whose long tormented hearts hath stillWith cloudie mistes and darkenesse been obscur'd
You all the world with Tragike volumes fill
What woe's deuis'd that you haue not indur'd
Your Register this Rigor may recall,
Shame, bloodshed, death, still captiues led in thrall.
23
In guiltlesse-him, no crueltie doth dwellNor from his mercy neuer sprang mischiefe
Your conscience read and it shall surely tell
His hands are wash'd as causelesse of your griefe
Then let the bloud the banishment and death
Bee on their heads the Authors of your wrath.
24
What though a King? yet Kings are sometime forc'dTo yeeld consent with vnconsenting hart
As from his will vnwillingly diuorc'd
That no vprore should rise any part:
Such is the onely prudence in a Prince
That 'gainst a murm'ring Momus makes defence.
25
Why, doe not then degorge satyrike wordsVsurping right, thou shalt vsurpe thy braine
For lo nought else such foolish feates affords:
But diu'llish guerdon for thy greatest gaine,
And still thou shalt infamous make thy name
When as thy end's to end in endlesse shame.
26
If Christian thou, then Christian-like abideTill flowing fauour from his Kingly loue
By Stately rule thy fredome shall prouide
When mindes remorse and mercy shall him moue,
So Conscience thral'd, made free and griefe is gone
Then shall his Soyles contented liue in one.
27
And dark'ned Clouds that lowers vpon you headsGiues place vnto the glori'us shining Sun
Whose burning beames with radiant splendor spreads
A restlesse race not ending still begun
To shew the ods 'twixt heau's Cælestiall light
And glomy mist of Helles eternall night.
28
From treasure rich of Gods immortall storeLet feruent loue in firy flames descend
And fill your hearts with pittie to implore
That heau'ns preuenting hand may him defend
Let highest curse breath forth consuming woes
For to conuert or else confound his foes.
29
A gratious King whose Mercie still aboundsA gallant Queen by Nature made none such.
A Prince whose worth Fames restles Trumpet sounds
And Princesse she I cannot prayse too much
A King, a Queene, a Prince, a Princesse rare
O Soyle, what Soyle, can with this Soyle compare.
30
Then happie Ile, in this thy happie dayGods thundring voyce with harts relenting heare
Whil'st heau'ns high Troopes theatred in array
With sounding Ioy before Christs throne compeare
In consort sweet melodious songs to sing
Liue liue great Iames most blest and potent King.
FINIS.
To Scotland his Soyle
To thee my Soyle (where firstI did receiue my breath)
These Obsequies I sing
Before my Swan-like-death.
My loue by nature bound
which spotlesse loue I spend
From treasure of my hart
to Thee I recommend.
I care not Fortunes frowne,
nor her vnconstant Fate:
Let her dissembling smile
and tryumph in deceate.
Curs'd be that man which hoords
his hopes vp in her lap,
And curs'd be he that builds
vpon her haplesse hap.
I tread on that blinde Bawd
and scorne hir sowre-mixt-sweet,
In spite of all her spite
I spurne her with my feet.
Now let her spet more wrath
(If any more yet bee)
Let horror of her hart
thunder at carelesse-Mee.
Then all the flatt'ring showes
of Fortune I disdaine,
So farewell Soyle and friends,
a Pilgrime once againe.
FINIS.
His Passionado
when he was in Pilgrimage.
1
Thou Phaeton thy firy course do'st end,and Cinthia thou with borrow'd light do'st shine
These woods their silent horrors doo out-send,
And Vallies lowe their mistie Vapors shrine,
Each liuely thing by natures course doth goe
To rest saue I that wander now in woe.
2
My plaints impart these soli'd partes to fill,Whil'st roaring Riuers send their sowndes among
Each dreadfull Deen appeares to helpe me still,
And yeelds sad Consorts to my sorr'wing song,
How oft I breath this wofull word alace,
From Eccho I sad accents backe imbrace.
3
I will aduance, what feares can me affray?Since Dreades are all debar'd by high dispaire,
Like darke nights-Ghost, I Vagabond astraye
With trobled spri't transported here and there,
None like my selfe but this my selfe alone
I martir'd man bewaile my matchlesse mone.
4
You flintie stones take eares and eyes to seeThis thundring greife with earthquake of my hart
That you may sigh and weepe with miser-Mee
Melt at thē tragicke Commentes of my smart.
Let these my teares that fall on you so oft
Make your obdurate hardnesse to be soft.
5
You liquid droppes distilling from mine eyes,In Christall you, my second selfe appeares:
Patterne of paine, how do'st thou sympathize
In visage wan, and Pilgrim's weede thou beares?
And on those signes of miscontent attire
Still doe I read, debar'd from my desire.
6
This hairie Roabe which doth my corps containThis Burden and my rough vnrased heade
A winter and a summer haue I bin
In dangers great still wandring in this weede,
Loe thus the force of my disasters strange
Hath made me vse this vnacquainted change.
7
I am dri'd vp with Dolors I endureMy hollowe eyes bewray my restles night
My Visage pale selfe pittie doth procure
I see my sores deciph'red in my sight.
A Pilgrime still, my Oracle was so,
And made my name, AH MISER MAN I GO.
8
Now doe I goe and wander anyway,No strange estate no kinde of trau'ling toyles
No threatning Crosse nor sorrow can me stay,
To search and seeke through all the sorts of soyles.
So round about this Round still haue I run,
Where I began, againe I haue begun.
9
In strangest parts where stranger I may bee,An outcast lost and voyed of al reliefe:
When saddest sights of sorrow I can see,
They to my graue shall helpe to feede my griefe
If Wonders selfe can wofull wonders showe
That sight, that part, that wonder I will knowe.
10
Thus doe I walke on forreigne fieldes forlorne,To carelesse-Mee, all cares do prooue vnkinde,
I doe the Fates of fickle Fortune scorne:
Each Crosse now bredes contentment to my minde
Astonish of stupendious things by day,
Nor howling sounds by night can me affray.
11
You stately, Alpes surmounting in the skyesThe force of floods yt from your heights down falles
There mighty Clamors with my carefull Cries,
The Eechoes voice from hollow Caues recalles.
The snow froz'n-clowds down frō your tops do thūder
Their voyce with mine doth teare ye ayre a sunder
12
And Neptune thou when thy proude swelling wrathFrō gulphes to mountaines mou'd with Winters blast
In anger great when thou did'st threaten death
Oft in thy rage, thy raging stormes I past
And my salt teares increast thy saltnes more,
My sighes with windes made all thy bowells rore.
13
The spatious earth and groundlesse deepe shall beare,A true Record of this my mart'ring mone
And if there were a world of worlds to heare
(When from this mortall Chaos I am gone)
I dare approue my sorrow hath bin such
That all their witts cannot admire too much.
14
On the colde grownde my Caytife-Carcasse lyes,The leaueles trees my Winter-blasted-bed.
Noe Architecture but the Vap'rous skyes,
Blacke foggie Mist my weari'd corpes hath cled,
This lothsome Laire on which I restles tourne
Doth best befit Mee-Miser-man to mourne:
15
With open eyes Nights darknes I disdaine,On my Cros'd-brest I Crosse my Crossed armes
And when Repose seekes to preuent my paine,
Squadrons of Cares doe sound their fresh alarmes
So in my sleep (the Image of pale Death)
These sighing words with burthen brus'd I breath.
16
I euer row'd my Barge against the streame,I scal'd those steppes that Fortune did me frame
I Conquer'd, which impossible did seeme.
I, haples I, once happie I became
Now sweetest Ioy is turn'd to bitter gall
The higher vp the greater was my fall.
17
What passing Follies are in high Estates,Whose foolish hopes giue promise to aspire:
Selfe-flatt'rie still doth maske the feare of Fates
Till vnawares deceiu'd in sougth desire,
This breeds dispaire, then force of Fortunes change
Setts high Estates in dread and perrill strange.
18
There secret grudge, Enuie and Treason dwellesThere Iustice lies, in Dole-bewraying weede
There slyding Time with alt'ring feates still telles
The great Attempts ambitious mindes doe breed.
They who haue most still hunt for more and more
They most desire that most are choak'd with store
19
Henceforth will I forsake Terrestiall Toyes,Which are nought ells but shawdowes of deceat
What Couer'd danger is in earthly ioyes,
When vilde Enuie, triumphes on each Estate.
Thou Traytor Time thy Treason doth betray
And makes youthes Spring in florish fayre decay.
20
What's in Experience which I haue not soughtAll (in that All) my will I did aduaunce
At highest rate, all these my witts are bought
In Fortunes Lottrie, I haue try'd my Chaunce.
So what I haue I haue it not by showe,
But by experience which I truly knowe.
21
Long haue I search'd and now at last I finde,Eye-pleasing-Calmes the tempest doth obscure.
When I in glory of my prosp'rous winde,
With white-sweld-sayles on gentle seas secure
And whē I thought my Loadstarre shin'd most faire
Eu'n then my hopes made shipwracke on dispaire.
22
My light is darke whil'st I am ouerthrowne,Poore silly Barke that did pure loue possesse:
With great vngratefull stormes thus am I blowne
On ruthlesse Rockes still deafe at my distresse.
So long-sought-Conquest doth in ruin's bost
And saies behold, thy loue and labor's lost.
23
Since all my loue and labor's lost, let FameSpit forth her hate and with that hatefull scorne
In darke obliuion sepulchrize my name:
And tell the world that I was neuer borne.
In me all earthly dream'd-of-Ioy shall ende.
As Indian herbes, which in blacke smoke I spende.
14
All-doting-pleasure, that all-tempting-Deuill,I shall abhor as a contag'ous Pest
I'le purge and clense my sences of that Euill
I sweare and vow, still in this vow to rest,
In sable habit of the mourning blacke
I'le solemnize this oath and vow I make.
15
Then goe vilde World confused Masse of nought,Thy bitternesse hath now abus'd my brayne
Auoid thy deu'llish Fancy from my thought
With idle toyes torment me not agayne.
My Time which thy alluring folly spent
With heart contrite and teares I doe repent.
FINIS.
Against Time.
SONNET.
Goe traytor Time and authorize my wrong,My wrack, my woe, my wayting on bewray
Look on my heart which by thy shifts so long
Thou tyranniz'd with Treason to betray
My hopes are fled, my thoughts are gone astray
And sencelesse I haue sorrow in such store
That paine it selfe to whom I am a pray
Of mee hath made a martred man and more.
Go, go then Time, I hatefull thee implore,
To memorize my sad and matchlesse mone
Whilst thy deceipts by death I shall decore
My losse of life shall make them known each one,
So (I poore I) I sing with Swan-like song,
Go traytor Time and Authorize my wrong.
FINIS.
The Estate of worldly Estates.
1
Each hath his Time whom Fortune will aduanceWhose fickle wheel runs restlesse round about
Some flatt'ring lye oft changeth others chance
Dangers deceipt in guiltie harts breeds doubt.
It's seene
What yet hath beene
With tract of time to passe,
And change
Of Fortune strange
At last hath turn'd their glasse.
2
Enuie triumph's on tops of high EstateAll ouer-hung with veiles of feigned show
Man climbes aboue the course of such conceate
That loftie-like, they loath to look below.
And what?
All's haszard that
Wee seek on Dice to set,
For some
To height's do come
Then falls in dangers net.
4
The gallant man, if poore, hee's thought a wretch,His Vertue rare is held in high disdayne
The greatest Foole is wise if he be rich
And wisedome flowes from his Lunatique brayne,
Thus see
Rare sprit's to bee
Of no account at all.
Disgrace
Hath got such place
Each ioyes at others fall.
3
The brib'rous minde who makes a God of gouldHe scornes to plead without he haue reward
Then poore mens suites at highest rat's are sould
Whilst Au'rice damn'd, nor Ruth hath no regard.
For heere
He hath no feare
Of Gods consuming curse
His gaines
Doth pull with paines
Plagues from the poore mans purse.
5
The furious flames of Sodom's sodaine fier,With feruent force consume vaine Pride to nought
With wings of wax let soaring him aspire
Aboue the Starres of his ambitious thought.
And so
When hee doth go
On top of Prides high glory
Then shall
His sodain fall
Become the worlds sad Story.
6
Ingratitude that ill,-ill-fauor'd IllIn noble brestes hath builded Castles strong
Obliuion sett's-vp the Troph's that still
Bewrayes the filthie vildenesse of that wrong.
Ah minde
Where deu'llish kinde
Ingratitude doth dwell
That Ill
Coequals still
The greatest Ill in hell.
7
On poysons filth contagious Error spreedsHeau'ns spotlesse eyes looks as amaz'd with wonder
Their Viprous mindes such raging horror breeds
To teare Religions virgin-roabes asunder.
What then
O wicked men
And Hels Eternall pray
Go mourne
And in time turne
From your erronious way.
8
What course wants crosse? what kinde of state wants strife?What worldling yet could euer seem content?
What haue wee heere in this our thwartring life?
Ioy, Beautie, Honour, Loue, like smoak are spent.
I say
Time goe's away
Without returne againe
How wise!
Who can despise
These worldly vapors vaine.
FINIS.
His Dying song.
1
Now haplesse Hart what can thy soars asswageSince yu art grypt with horror of Deaths hand?
Thou (baleful-thou) becoms the Tragick stage
Where all my tort'ring thoughts theatred stand:
Griefe, feare, death, thought, each in a monstrous kinde
Like vgly monsters muster in my minde.
2
Thou loathsome bed to restlesse-martred-MeeVoyd of repose, fill'd with consuming cares,
I will breath forth my wretched life on thee,
For quenchlesse wo and paine, my graue prepares
Vnto pale-agonizing-Death am thrall
Then must I go, and answere to his call.
3
O Memorie most bitter to that man,Whose God is Golde and hoords it vp in store,
But O that blind-deceiuing-Wealth what can
It saue a life, or add one minute more?
When hee at rest, rich treasures in his sight,
His Soule (poore Foole) is tane away that night.
4
And strangers gets the substance of his gaine,Which he long sought with endlesse toyles to finde
This vilde worlds filth and excrements most vaine,
Hee needs must dye and leaue it all behinde.
O man in minde remember this, and mourne,
Naked thou cam'st, and Naked must retourne,
5
I naked came, I naked must returne,Earths flatt'ring pleasure is an Idle toy
For now I sweare my very Soule doth spurne
That breath, that froth, that moment fleeting ioy,
Then farewell World, let him betray'd still bost
Of all mischiefe that in Thee trusteth most.
6
Burnt-Candle, all thy store consum'd thou end's,Thy lightning splendor threat's for to be gone,
O how do'st thou resemble Mee that spend's
And sighs forth life in sighing forth my mone?
Thy light Thee lothes, I loth this lothed life,
Full of deceipt, false enuie, grudge, and strife.
7
I call on Time, Tim's alt'red by the change,I call on Friendes, friendes haue clos'd vp their eares
I call on Earthly Pow'rs, and they are strange
I call in vaine when Pittie none appeares.
Both Time and friends, both Earthly Powers and all
All in disdaine are deafe at my hoarse call.
8
Then Prayer flowe from my hart-humbling knees,To the supreame Celestiall Throane aspire,
And shew my griefe to heau'ns all seeing eyes,
Who neuer yet deny'd my iust desire.
Mans helpe is nougth, O God thy helpe I craue,
Whose spotlesse blood my spotted Soule did saue.
9
Then take my Soule which bought by thee, is thine,Earth harb'ring-worms, take you my Corps of Clay,
O Christ on mee Eternall mercy shine,
Thy bleeding woundes wash all my sinnes away.
Now now I come to thee O Iesu sweet,
Into thy hands I recommend my Spreet.
FINIS.
| The Passionate Sparke of a Relenting Minde | |