University of Virginia Library

[Oh fertile soyle, thou little lande]

Oh fertile soyle, thou little lande,
that Anglia hath to name,
Unto whose bankes and lymits set
Brutus of perfect fame
With forced shield gan turne his arme
vnto thee now I say,
These words to thee in whom the waues
of hony sweete doe stay.
In whom the floods of milke doe runne,
and Nectar fine doth flowe,
Like land our Lord to his elect,
did promyse long agoe.
If euer thou hadst cause to laugh,
or ioyfull to be seene,
Then clap thy hands, and thanke the God
that gaue thee such a Queene.
Whose vertues doe ascend and mount
vnto the very skyes,
And there doe moue the mighty Ioue,
to turne to thee hys eyes.
With louely hand to poure on thee,
the seedes of this his grace
And plentie causeth of all things
to abound in euery place.
Within thy compasse cut thou canst
not truely witnes this,
Before her dayes that like in thee
there was such cause of blisse.
Nor aye there is none other cause
by wit which thou canst finde
That mooued God to throw on thee
such plenty thus assignde.
But her, before her dayes, in bookes
full playne its to beseene
What war, what strife, and slaughter great
in thee at once hath beene.
What scarcitie with thee there was,
what penury each thing,
For want of grayne, the lack of foode
dyd to thy bowels bring.
The moued Gods by some thy fault,
what euer sinne it were,
Did thee inforce the horror huge,
and wrack of warre to beare.
By reason when the people faynt,
and tyred could not toyle,
To tyll this land, wherby almost
it was vnfertile soyle.
But now sith none there is in sight,
oh thanke thy God therefore,
And wish her life that is the cause
of this thy perfect store.
Who here in presence prayeth plain,
vnto the Lord aboue,
At whose request, and whose behalfe,
he poures on thee such loue,
Yet thinke not (litle Realme) that it
is for thine owne assent,
Thy sinne is sore, it is for her,
or els thou mightst be shent.
Her vertues shine as bright as stars
as cleere as Phebus cheefe,
The port of hir doth stayne the moon
a Phenix by her life.
For chastity Lucretia
ne could that Romish dame
Aspire to her, though while she liued
she had the only fame.
Let prudent Pallas pause a space
and then for to eschue
Let Clio muse to paint the gifts,
which Ioue doth her endue:
Who worthy is to rule and raigne
besides her kingdomes three
Ouer the globe which we account,
all Chaos for to be.
What shuld I say, what shal I write
but laud the royall race
Of her who by her passing port
stayres Iunoes very face.
Elizabeth whose name compact,
doth stand of letters nine,
The effect thereof and meaning true
in fewe words to define.
She loues the Muses nine, she loues
their wisdome passinglie:
She loues the sugred skil, she loues
their lawes assuredly.
Let ech true subiect on his knee
with thankful heart stil pray
For to preserue this noble Queene,
in vertues lore alway.
The queene of England, realme also
of France and Ireland
Whom God protect from all annoy
by his most mighty hand.
And graunt her subiects her to serue
in heart with one accord:
While she doth raigne here ouer vs,
as long as please the Lord.
And when that Atropos shal cut
and shred her webbe in twaine,
In skyes with him to ioy a place,
for euer to remayne.