The Worthines of Wales Wherein are more then a thousand seuerall things rehearsed: some set out in prose to the pleasure of the Reader, and with such varietie of verse for the beautifying of the Book, as no doubt shal delight thousands to vnderstand. Which worke is enterlarded with many wonders and right strange matter to consider of: All the which labour and deuice is drawne forth and set out by Thomas Churchyard, to the glorie of God, and honour of his Prince and Countrey |
 |
 | The Worthines of Wales |  |
To the Queenes most Excellent Maiestie, Elizabeth,
by the grace of God, Queene of England,
Fraunce and Ireland, &c. Thomas Churchyard
wisheth alwayes blessednes, good fortune,
victorie, and worldly honour, with the
encrease of quiet raigne, vertuous lyfe, and most Princely gouernment.
A true note of the auncient Castles, famous Monuments, goodly Riuers, faire Bridges, fine Townes, and courteous people, that I haue seene in the noble Countrie of Wales.
Through
sondrie Soyles, and stately Kingdomes ritch,
Long haue I traest, to tread out time and yeares:
Where I at will, haue surely seene right mitch,
As by my works, and printed bookes appeares.
And wearied thus, with toyle in forrayne place,
I homeward drue, to take some rest a space:
But labouring mynd, that rests not but in bed,
Began a fresh, to trouble restles hed.
Long haue I traest, to tread out time and yeares:
Where I at will, haue surely seene right mitch,
As by my works, and printed bookes appeares.
And wearied thus, with toyle in forrayne place,
I homeward drue, to take some rest a space:
But labouring mynd, that rests not but in bed,
Began a fresh, to trouble restles hed.
Then newfound toyles, that hales men all in haste,
To runne on head, and looke not where they goe:
Bade reason ride, where loue should be enbraste,
And where tyme could, his labour best bestowe.
To Wales (quoth Wit), there doth plaine people dwell,
So mayst thou come, to heauen out of hell:
For Fraunce is fine, and full of faithlesse waies,
Poore Flaunders grosse, and farre from happie daies.
To runne on head, and looke not where they goe:
Bade reason ride, where loue should be enbraste,
And where tyme could, his labour best bestowe.
To Wales (quoth Wit), there doth plaine people dwell,
So mayst thou come, to heauen out of hell:
For Fraunce is fine, and full of faithlesse waies,
Poore Flaunders grosse, and farre from happie daies.
Ritch Spayne is proude, and sterne to straungers all,
In Italie, poysning is alwaies rife:
And Germanie, to Drunkennesse doth fall,
The Danes likewise, doe leade a bibbing life.
The Scots seeke bloud, and beare a cruell mynd,
Ireland growes nought, the people waxe vnkynd:
England God wot, hath learnde such leawdnesse late,
That Wales methinks, is now the soundest state.
In Italie, poysning is alwaies rife:
The Danes likewise, doe leade a bibbing life.
The Scots seeke bloud, and beare a cruell mynd,
Ireland growes nought, the people waxe vnkynd:
England God wot, hath learnde such leawdnesse late,
That Wales methinks, is now the soundest state.
In all the rest, of Kingdomes farre or nere,
A tricke or two, of treacherie staynes the Soyle:
But since the tyme, that rule and lawe came here,
This Brittish land, was neuer put to foyle,
For foule offence, or fault it did commit:
The people here, in peace doth quiet sit,
Obayes the Prince, without reuolt or iarre,
Because they know, ethe smart of Ciuill warre.
A tricke or two, of treacherie staynes the Soyle:
But since the tyme, that rule and lawe came here,
This Brittish land, was neuer put to foyle,
For foule offence, or fault it did commit:
The people here, in peace doth quiet sit,
Obayes the Prince, without reuolt or iarre,
Because they know, ethe smart of Ciuill warre.
Whiles quarrels rage, did nourish ruyne and wracke,
And Owen Glendore, set bloodie broyles abroach:
Full many a Towne, was spoyld and put to sacke,
And cleane consum'd, to Countries foule reproach.
Great Castles raste, fayre Buyldings burnt to dust,
Such reuell raignde, that men did liue by lust:
But since they came, and yeelded vnto Lawe,
Most meeke as Lambe, within one yoke they drawe.
And Owen Glendore, set bloodie broyles abroach:
Full many a Towne, was spoyld and put to sacke,
And cleane consum'd, to Countries foule reproach.
Great Castles raste, fayre Buyldings burnt to dust,
Such reuell raignde, that men did liue by lust:
But since they came, and yeelded vnto Lawe,
Most meeke as Lambe, within one yoke they drawe.
Like brethren now, doe Welshmen still agree,
In as much loue, as any men aliue:
The friendship there, and concord that I see,
I doe compare, to Bees in Honey hiue.
Which keepe in swarme, and hold together still,
Yet gladly showe, to straunger great good will:
A courteous kynd, of loue in euery place,
A man may finde, in simple peoples face.
In as much loue, as any men aliue:
The friendship there, and concord that I see,
I doe compare, to Bees in Honey hiue.
Which keepe in swarme, and hold together still,
Yet gladly showe, to straunger great good will:
A courteous kynd, of loue in euery place,
A man may finde, in simple peoples face.
Passe where you please, on Plaine or Mountaine wilde,
And beare your selfe, in sweete and ciuill sort:
And you shall sure, be haulst with man and childe,
Who will salute, with gentle comely port
The passers by: on braues they stand not so,
Without good speech, to let a trau'ler go:
They thinke it dett, and duetie franke and free,
In Towne or fielde, to yeeld you cap and knee.
And beare your selfe, in sweete and ciuill sort:
Who will salute, with gentle comely port
The passers by: on braues they stand not so,
Without good speech, to let a trau'ler go:
They thinke it dett, and duetie franke and free,
In Towne or fielde, to yeeld you cap and knee.
They will not striue, to royst and take the way,
Of any man, that trauailes through their Land:
A greater thing, of Wales now will I say,
Ye may come there, beare purse of gold in hand,
Or mightie bagges, of siluer stuffed throwe,
And no one man, dare touch your treasure now:
Which shewes some grace, doth rule and guyde them there,
That doth to God, and man such Conscience beare.
Of any man, that trauailes through their Land:
A greater thing, of Wales now will I say,
Ye may come there, beare purse of gold in hand,
Or mightie bagges, of siluer stuffed throwe,
And no one man, dare touch your treasure now:
Which shewes some grace, doth rule and guyde them there,
That doth to God, and man such Conscience beare.
Behold besides, a further thing to note,
The best cheape cheare, they haue that may be found:
The shot is great, when each mans paies his groate,
If all alike, the reckoning runneth round.
There market good, and victuals nothing deare,
Each place is filde, with plentie all the yeare:
The ground mannurde, the graine doth so encrease,
That thousands liue, in wealth and blessed peace.
The best cheape cheare, they haue that may be found:
The shot is great, when each mans paies his groate,
If all alike, the reckoning runneth round.
There market good, and victuals nothing deare,
Each place is filde, with plentie all the yeare:
The ground mannurde, the graine doth so encrease,
That thousands liue, in wealth and blessed peace.
But come againe, vnto their courteous shoe,
That wins the hearts, of all that markes the same:
The like whereof, through all the world doe goe,
And scarce ye shall, finde people in such frame.
For meeke as Doue, in lookes and speech they are,
Not rough and rude, (as spitefull tongues declare)
No sure they seeme, no sooner out of shell,
(But nature shewes) they knowe good maners well.
That wins the hearts, of all that markes the same:
The like whereof, through all the world doe goe,
And scarce ye shall, finde people in such frame.
For meeke as Doue, in lookes and speech they are,
Not rough and rude, (as spitefull tongues declare)
No sure they seeme, no sooner out of shell,
(But nature shewes) they knowe good maners well.
How can this be, that weaklings nurst so harde,
(Who barely goes, both barefoote and vncled)
In gifts of mynd, should haue so great regarde,
Except within, from birth some grace were bred.
It must be so, doe wit not me deceaue,
What nature giues, the world cannot bereaue:
In this remaines, a secrete worke deuine,
Which shewe they rise, from auncient race and line.
(Who barely goes, both barefoote and vncled)
Except within, from birth some grace were bred.
It must be so, doe wit not me deceaue,
What nature giues, the world cannot bereaue:
In this remaines, a secrete worke deuine,
Which shewe they rise, from auncient race and line.
In Authors old, you shall that plainly reade,
Geraldus one, and learned Geffrey two:
The third for troth, is Venerable Beade,
That many graue, and worthie workes did doe.
What needes this proofe, or genalogies here,
Their noble blood, doth by their liues appeare:
Their stately Townes, and Castles euery where,
Of their renowme, doth daily witnesse beare.
Geraldus one, and learned Geffrey two:
The third for troth, is Venerable Beade,
That many graue, and worthie workes did doe.
What needes this proofe, or genalogies here,
Their noble blood, doth by their liues appeare:
Their stately Townes, and Castles euery where,
Of their renowme, doth daily witnesse beare.
A description of Monmouth Shiere.
First
I begin, at auncient Monmouth now,
That stands by Wye, a Riuer large and long:
I will that Shiere, and other Shieres goe throwe,
Describe them all, or els I did them wrong.
It is great blame, to writers of our daies,
That treates of world, and giues to Wales no praise:
They rather hyde, in clowde (and cunning foyle)
That Land than yeeld, right glorie to that Soyle,
That stands by Wye, a Riuer large and long:
I will that Shiere, and other Shieres goe throwe,
Describe them all, or els I did them wrong.
It is great blame, to writers of our daies,
That treates of world, and giues to Wales no praise:
They rather hyde, in clowde (and cunning foyle)
That Land than yeeld, right glorie to that Soyle,
A King of ours, was borne in Monmouth sure,
The Castle there, records the same a right:
And though the walles, which cannot still endure,
Through sore decay, shewes nothing fayre to sight.
In Seate it selfe, (and well plaste Citie old)
By view ye may, a Princely plot behold:
Good mynds they had, that first those walles did raise,
That makes our age, to thinke on elders daies.
The Castle there, records the same a right:
And though the walles, which cannot still endure,
Through sore decay, shewes nothing fayre to sight.
In Seate it selfe, (and well plaste Citie old)
By view ye may, a Princely plot behold:
That makes our age, to thinke on elders daies.
The King here borne, did proue a peereles Prince,
He conquerd Fraunce, and raign'd nine yeeres in hap:
There was not here, so great a Uictor since,
That had such chaunce, and Fortune in his lap.
For he by fate, and force did couet all,
And as turne came, stroke hard at Fortunes ball:
With manly mynd, and ran a reddie way,
To lose a ioynt, or winne the Gole by play.
He conquerd Fraunce, and raign'd nine yeeres in hap:
There was not here, so great a Uictor since,
That had such chaunce, and Fortune in his lap.
For he by fate, and force did couet all,
And as turne came, stroke hard at Fortunes ball:
With manly mynd, and ran a reddie way,
To lose a ioynt, or winne the Gole by play.
If Monmouth bring, such Princes forth as this,
A Soyle of grace, it shalbe calde of right:
Speake what you can, a happie Seate it is,
A trim Shiere towne, for Noble, Barron or Knight.
A Cittie sure, as free as is the best,
Where Size is kept, and learned Lawyers rest:
Buylt auncient wise, in sweete and wholesome ayre,
Where the best sort, of people oft repayre.
A Soyle of grace, it shalbe calde of right:
Speake what you can, a happie Seate it is,
A trim Shiere towne, for Noble, Barron or Knight.
A Cittie sure, as free as is the best,
Where Size is kept, and learned Lawyers rest:
Buylt auncient wise, in sweete and wholesome ayre,
Where the best sort, of people oft repayre.
Not farre from thence, a famous Castle fine,
That Raggland hight, stands moted almost round:
Made of Freestone, vpright as straight as line,
Whose workmanship, in beautie doth abound.
The curious knots, wrought all with edged toole,
The stately Tower, that lookes ore Pond and Poole:
The Fountaine trim, that runs both day and night,
Doth yeeld in showe, a rare and noble sight.
That Raggland hight, stands moted almost round:
Made of Freestone, vpright as straight as line,
Whose workmanship, in beautie doth abound.
The curious knots, wrought all with edged toole,
The stately Tower, that lookes ore Pond and Poole:
The Fountaine trim, that runs both day and night,
Doth yeeld in showe, a rare and noble sight.
Now Chepstowe comes, to mynd (as well it may)
Whose Seate is set, some part vpon an hill:
And through the Towne, to Neawport lyes a way,
That ore a Bridge, on Wye you ride at will.
This Bridge is long, the Riuer swift and great,
The Mountaine bigge, about doth shade the Seate:
The craggie Rocks, that ore the Towne doth lye,
Of force farre of, doth hinder viewe of eye.
Whose Seate is set, some part vpon an hill:
And through the Towne, to Neawport lyes a way,
That ore a Bridge, on Wye you ride at will.
This Bridge is long, the Riuer swift and great,
The Mountaine bigge, about doth shade the Seate:
Of force farre of, doth hinder viewe of eye.
The common Port, and Hauen is so good,
It merits praise, because Barkes there doe ride:
To which the Sea, comes in with flowing flood,
And doth foure howers, aboue the Bridge abide.
Beyond the same, doth Tyntterne Abbey stand,
As old a Sell, as is within that Land:
Where diuers things, hath bene right worthie note,
Whereof as yet, the troth I haue not gote.
It merits praise, because Barkes there doe ride:
To which the Sea, comes in with flowing flood,
And doth foure howers, aboue the Bridge abide.
Beyond the same, doth Tyntterne Abbey stand,
As old a Sell, as is within that Land:
Where diuers things, hath bene right worthie note,
Whereof as yet, the troth I haue not gote.
Chepstow. In the Castle there is an ancient tower called Longis tower, wherby rests a tale to be considered of.
Where Strongbow once, (an Earle of rare renowne)
A long time since, the Lord and Maister was
(In princely sort) of Castle and of Towne.
Then after that, to Mowbray it befell,
Of Norffolke Duke, a worthie knowne full well:
Of this Earle is a great and worthie tale to be heard A peece of a petigree. Earle Strongbowe was maried to the King of Lynsters Daughter in Ireland, and this Strongbowe wan by force of armes the Earledoms of Wolster & Tyroll.
That was the Earle, of Penbrooke then by right.
His eldest Sonne, that did succeede his place,
(Of Huntyngton: and Penbrooke Earle likewise)
Had but one childe, a Daughter of great race:
And she was matcht, with pompe and solempne guise,
To Somerset, that was Lord Chamberlaine,
And made an Earle, in Henry seuenths raigne:
Of him doth come, Earle Worster liuing nowe,
Who buildeth vp, the house of Raggland throwe.
(Of Huntyngton: and Penbrooke Earle likewise)
Had but one childe, a Daughter of great race:
And she was matcht, with pompe and solempne guise,
To Somerset, that was Lord Chamberlaine,
And made an Earle, in Henry seuenths raigne:
Of him doth come, Earle Worster liuing nowe,
Who buildeth vp, the house of Raggland throwe.
A Creation of an Earle.
Edward
by the grace of God, King most imperiall,
Of France, & England, & the Lord of Ireland therwithall,
To Archbishops, & Bishops all, to Abbotes and to Priors
To Dukes, to Earles, to Barrons, & to Sheriffes of the shires,
To Iustices, to Maiors, and chiefe of Townly gouernment,
To Baylieffes, & my lichefolke all, haue herewith greeting sent.
Knowe ye whereas we iudge it is a gracious Prince his parte,
To yeeld loue, fauour, and reward to men of great desarte:
Who of himselfe, his Royall house, and of the publique state,
Haue well deseru'd, their vertues rare euer to renumerate:
And to adorne with high reward, such vertue cleere and bright,
Stirs others vp to great attempts, and faintnes puts to flight.
We following on the famous course, yt former Kings haue run,
That worthie & approued wight, whose deedes most nobly dun,
Haue greatest things of vs deseru'd, we do intend to raise,
To fame and honors highest type, with gifts of Princely praise,
That truely regall are we meane, that valiant worthie Knight,
That William Herbert hath to name, & now L. Herbert hight.
Whose seruice whē we first did raigne, we did most faithful find.
When for our royal right we fought, which stil we call to mind:
To which we ad from then till now, continuall seruices,
Which many were whereof each one, to vs most pleasing is.
And chiefly when as lately now, his deedes did him declare,
A worthie Knight wherby he gayn'd, both fame and glorie rare:
When as that Rebell and our foe, euen Iasper Tudyrs sonne,
who said he Earle of Penbroke was, did westwales coast orerū
And there by subtile shifts and force, did diuers sondrie waies
Anoy our State, and therewithall a vyle Sedition raise.
But there he gaue to him a fielde, and with a valiant hand
Orethrew him and his forces all, that on his part did stand.
And marching all along those Coasts, ye most he slew out right,
The rest he brake and so disperst, they gaue themselues to flight.
Our Castle then of Hardelach, that from our first daies raigne,
A refuge for all Rebels did, against vs still remaine:
A Fort of wonderous force, besiege about did he,
And tooke it, where in most mens mynds, it could not taken be.
He wan it & did make them yeeld, who there their saftie sought,
And all the Countrie thereabouts, to our obedience brought.
These therefore his most worthie Acts, we calling into minde,
His seruices and great desarts, which we praise worthie finde:
And for that cause we willing him, with honors royally
For to adorne, decke, and aduaunce, and to sublime on hye.
The eight day of September, in the eight yeere of our Raigne,
We by this Charter, that for ours shall firme for euer remaine:
Of speciall grace and knowledge sure, sound and determinate,
And motiō meere him William doe, of Penbroke Count create
Erect, preferre, and vnto him the Title stile and state,
And name thereof and dignitie, foreuer appropriate,
As Earle of Penbroke and withall, we giue all rights that do
All honors and preheminence, that state perteyne vnto:
With which estate, stile, honor, great, and worthie dignitie,
By cincture of a Sword, we him ennoble reallie.
Of France, & England, & the Lord of Ireland therwithall,
To Archbishops, & Bishops all, to Abbotes and to Priors
To Dukes, to Earles, to Barrons, & to Sheriffes of the shires,
To Baylieffes, & my lichefolke all, haue herewith greeting sent.
Knowe ye whereas we iudge it is a gracious Prince his parte,
To yeeld loue, fauour, and reward to men of great desarte:
Who of himselfe, his Royall house, and of the publique state,
Haue well deseru'd, their vertues rare euer to renumerate:
And to adorne with high reward, such vertue cleere and bright,
Stirs others vp to great attempts, and faintnes puts to flight.
We following on the famous course, yt former Kings haue run,
That worthie & approued wight, whose deedes most nobly dun,
Haue greatest things of vs deseru'd, we do intend to raise,
To fame and honors highest type, with gifts of Princely praise,
That truely regall are we meane, that valiant worthie Knight,
That William Herbert hath to name, & now L. Herbert hight.
Whose seruice whē we first did raigne, we did most faithful find.
When for our royal right we fought, which stil we call to mind:
To which we ad from then till now, continuall seruices,
Which many were whereof each one, to vs most pleasing is.
And chiefly when as lately now, his deedes did him declare,
A worthie Knight wherby he gayn'd, both fame and glorie rare:
When as that Rebell and our foe, euen Iasper Tudyrs sonne,
who said he Earle of Penbroke was, did westwales coast orerū
And there by subtile shifts and force, did diuers sondrie waies
Anoy our State, and therewithall a vyle Sedition raise.
But there he gaue to him a fielde, and with a valiant hand
Orethrew him and his forces all, that on his part did stand.
And marching all along those Coasts, ye most he slew out right,
The rest he brake and so disperst, they gaue themselues to flight.
Our Castle then of Hardelach, that from our first daies raigne,
A refuge for all Rebels did, against vs still remaine:
A Fort of wonderous force, besiege about did he,
And tooke it, where in most mens mynds, it could not taken be.
He wan it & did make them yeeld, who there their saftie sought,
And all the Countrie thereabouts, to our obedience brought.
These therefore his most worthie Acts, we calling into minde,
His seruices and great desarts, which we praise worthie finde:
For to adorne, decke, and aduaunce, and to sublime on hye.
The eight day of September, in the eight yeere of our Raigne,
We by this Charter, that for ours shall firme for euer remaine:
Of speciall grace and knowledge sure, sound and determinate,
And motiō meere him William doe, of Penbroke Count create
Erect, preferre, and vnto him the Title stile and state,
And name thereof and dignitie, foreuer appropriate,
As Earle of Penbroke and withall, we giue all rights that do
All honors and preheminence, that state perteyne vnto:
With which estate, stile, honor, great, and worthie dignitie,
By cincture of a Sword, we him ennoble reallie.
For that the sence, and worthie words were great,
The seruice such, as merites noble fame:
The forme thereof, in verse I doe repeate,
And shewe likewise, the Lattin of the same.
He seru'd a King, that could him well reward,
And of his house, and race tooke great regard,
And recompenst, his manly doing right,
With honor due, to such a noble Knight.
The seruice such, as merites noble fame:
The forme thereof, in verse I doe repeate,
And shewe likewise, the Lattin of the same.
He seru'd a King, that could him well reward,
And of his house, and race tooke great regard,
And recompenst, his manly doing right,
With honor due, to such a noble Knight.
Where loyall mynd, doth offer life and all,
For to preserue, the Prince and publique state:
There doth great hap, and thankfull Fortune fall,
As guerdon sent, by destnie and good fate.
No Soueraine can, forget a Subiects troeth,
With whose good grace, great loue and fauour goeth:
Great gifts and place, great glorie and renowne,
They get and gayne, that truely serues a Crowne.
For to preserue, the Prince and publique state:
There doth great hap, and thankfull Fortune fall,
As guerdon sent, by destnie and good fate.
No Soueraine can, forget a Subiects troeth,
With whose good grace, great loue and fauour goeth:
Great gifts and place, great glorie and renowne,
They get and gayne, that truely serues a Crowne.
And thou my Knight, that art his heire in blood,
Though Lordship, land, and Ragglands stately towers,
A female heire, and force of fortunes flood
Haue thee bereft, yet bearst his fruits and flowers:
His armes, his name, his faith and mynd are thyne,
By nature, nurture, arte and grace deuyne:
Ore Seas and Lands, these moue thee paynes to take,
For God, for fame, for thy sweete Soueraines sake.
Though Lordship, land, and Ragglands stately towers,
A female heire, and force of fortunes flood
Haue thee bereft, yet bearst his fruits and flowers:
By nature, nurture, arte and grace deuyne:
Ore Seas and Lands, these moue thee paynes to take,
For God, for fame, for thy sweete Soueraines sake.
Here followeth the Creation of an Earle of Penbroke in Latin.
This was set downe, for causes more then one,
The world beleeues, no more than it hath seene:
When things lye dead, and tyme is past and gone,
Blynd people say, it is not so we weene.
It is a tale, deuisde to please the eare,
More for delight, of toyes then troth may beare:
But those that thinks, this may a fable be,
To Authors good, I send them here from me.
The world beleeues, no more than it hath seene:
When things lye dead, and tyme is past and gone,
Blynd people say, it is not so we weene.
It is a tale, deuisde to please the eare,
More for delight, of toyes then troth may beare:
But those that thinks, this may a fable be,
To Authors good, I send them here from me.
First let them search, Records as I haue done,
Then shall they finde, this is most certaine true:
And all the rest, before I here begun,
Is taken out, not of no writers nue.
The oldest sort, and soundest men of skill
Myne Authors are, now reade their names who will:
Their workes, their words, and so their learning through,
Shall shewe you all, what troth I write of now.
Then shall they finde, this is most certaine true:
And all the rest, before I here begun,
Is taken out, not of no writers nue.
The oldest sort, and soundest men of skill
Myne Authors are, now reade their names who will:
Their workes, their words, and so their learning through,
Shall shewe you all, what troth I write of now.
Because many that fauoured not Wales (parsiall writers and historians) haue written & set downe their owne opinions, as they pleased to publish of that Countrey: I therefore a little degresse from the orderly matter of the booke, and touch somewhat the workes and wordes of them that rashly haue written more then they knewe, or well could proue.
As learned men, hath wrote graue works of yore,
So great regard, to natiue Soyle they had:
For such respect, I blame now Pollydore:
Because of Wales, his iudgement was but bad.
If Buckanan, the Scottish Poet late
Were here in sprite, of Brittons to debate:
He should finde men, that would with him dispute,
And many a pen, which would his works confute.
So great regard, to natiue Soyle they had:
For such respect, I blame now Pollydore:
Because of Wales, his iudgement was but bad.
If Buckanan, the Scottish Poet late
Were here in sprite, of Brittons to debate:
He should finde men, that would with him dispute,
And many a pen, which would his works confute.
But with the dead, the quick may neuer striue,
(Though sondrie works, of theirs were little worth)
Yet better farre, they had not bene aliue,
Than sowe such seedes, as brings no goodnesse forth:
Their praise is small, that plucks backe others fame,
Their loue not great, that blots out neighbours name,
Their bookes but brawles, their bable bauld and bare,
That in disdaine, of fables writers are.
(Though sondrie works, of theirs were little worth)
Yet better farre, they had not bene aliue,
Than sowe such seedes, as brings no goodnesse forth:
Their praise is small, that plucks backe others fame,
Their loue not great, that blots out neighbours name,
Their bookes but brawles, their bable bauld and bare,
That in disdaine, of fables writers are.
What fable more, then say they knowe that thing
They neuer sawe, and so giue iudgement streight:
And by their bookes, the world in error bring,
That thinks it reades, a matter of great weight.
When that a tale, of much vntroth is told:
Thus all that shines, and glisters is not gold:
Nor all the bookes, that auncient Fathers wrate
Are not alo'wd, for troth in euery state.
They neuer sawe, and so giue iudgement streight:
That thinks it reades, a matter of great weight.
When that a tale, of much vntroth is told:
Thus all that shines, and glisters is not gold:
Nor all the bookes, that auncient Fathers wrate
Are not alo'wd, for troth in euery state.
Though Cæsar was, a wise and worthie Prince,
And conquerd much, of Wales and England both:
The writers than, and other Authors since.
Did flatter tyme, and still abuse the troth.
Some for a fee, and some did humors feede,
When sore was healde, to make a wound to bleede:
And some sought meanes, their patient still to please,
When body throwe, was full of foule disease.
And conquerd much, of Wales and England both:
The writers than, and other Authors since.
Did flatter tyme, and still abuse the troth.
Some for a fee, and some did humors feede,
When sore was healde, to make a wound to bleede:
And some sought meanes, their patient still to please,
When body throwe, was full of foule disease.
The worldly wits, that with each tyme would wagge,
Were caryed cleane, away from wisedomes lore:
They rather watcht, to fill an emptie bagge,
Than touch the tyme, then present or before:
Nor car'd not much, for future tyme to come,
They rould vp tyme, like threede about the thome:
And when their clue, on trifles all was spent,
Much rotten stuffe, vnto the garment went.
Were caryed cleane, away from wisedomes lore:
They rather watcht, to fill an emptie bagge,
Than touch the tyme, then present or before:
Nor car'd not much, for future tyme to come,
They rould vp tyme, like threede about the thome:
And when their clue, on trifles all was spent,
Much rotten stuffe, vnto the garment went.
Which stuffe patcht vp, a peece of homely ware,
In Printers shop, set out to sale sometyme:
Which ill wrought worke, at length became so bare,
It neither seru'd, for prose nor pleasant ryme:
But past like chat, and old wiues tales full vayne,
That thunders long, but neuer brings forth rayne:
A kynd of sound, that makes a hurling noyse,
To feare young babes, with brute of bugges and toyes.
In Printers shop, set out to sale sometyme:
Which ill wrought worke, at length became so bare,
It neither seru'd, for prose nor pleasant ryme:
But past like chat, and old wiues tales full vayne,
That thunders long, but neuer brings forth rayne:
A kynd of sound, that makes a hurling noyse,
To feare young babes, with brute of bugges and toyes.
But aged sires, of riper wit and skill,
Disdaines to reade, such rabble farst with lyes:
This is enough, to shewe you my goodwill
Of Authors true, and writers graue and wise.
Whose pen shall proue, each thing in printed booke,
Whose eyes withall, on matter straunge did looke:
And whose great charge, and labour witnesse beares,
Their words are iust, they offer to your eares.
Disdaines to reade, such rabble farst with lyes:
Of Authors true, and writers graue and wise.
Whose pen shall proue, each thing in printed booke,
Whose eyes withall, on matter straunge did looke:
And whose great charge, and labour witnesse beares,
Their words are iust, they offer to your eares.
Each Nation had, some writer in their daies
For to aduaunce, their Countrey to the Starres:
Homer was one, who gaue the Greekes great praise,
And honord not, the Troyans for their warres.
Liui among, the Romaines wrate right mitch,
With rare renowne, his Countrey to enritch:
And Pollidore, did ply the pen a pace,
To blurre straunge Soyles, and yeeld the Romaines grace.
For to aduaunce, their Countrey to the Starres:
Homer was one, who gaue the Greekes great praise,
And honord not, the Troyans for their warres.
Liui among, the Romaines wrate right mitch,
With rare renowne, his Countrey to enritch:
And Pollidore, did ply the pen a pace,
To blurre straunge Soyles, and yeeld the Romaines grace.
Admit they wrate, their volumes all of troeth,
(And did affect, ne man nor matter then)
Yet writer sees, not how all matters goeth
In field: when he, at home is at his pen.
This Pollidore, sawe neuer much of Wales,
Though he haue told, of Brittons many tales:
Cæsar himself, a Uictor many a way,
Went not so farre, as Pollidore doth say.
(And did affect, ne man nor matter then)
Yet writer sees, not how all matters goeth
In field: when he, at home is at his pen.
This Pollidore, sawe neuer much of Wales,
Though he haue told, of Brittons many tales:
Cæsar himself, a Uictor many a way,
Went not so farre, as Pollidore doth say.
Kings are obayd, where they were neuer seene,
And men may write, of things they heare by eare:
So Pollidore, oft tymes might ouerweene,
And speake of Soyles, yet he came neuer there.
Some runne a ground, that through each water sailes,
A Pylot good, in his owne Compasse failes:
A writer that beleeues in worlds report,
May roue to farre, or surely shoote to short.
And men may write, of things they heare by eare:
So Pollidore, oft tymes might ouerweene,
And speake of Soyles, yet he came neuer there.
Some runne a ground, that through each water sailes,
A Pylot good, in his owne Compasse failes:
A writer that beleeues in worlds report,
May roue to farre, or surely shoote to short.
The eye is iudge, as Lanterne cleere of light,
That searcheth through, the dim and darkest place:
The gladsome eye, giues all the bodie sight,
It is the glasse, and beautie of the face.
But where no face, nor iudging eye doth come,
The sence is blynd, the spirit is deaffe and dome:
For wit can not, conceiue till sight send in
Some skill to head, whereby we knowledge win.
That searcheth through, the dim and darkest place:
It is the glasse, and beautie of the face.
But where no face, nor iudging eye doth come,
The sence is blynd, the spirit is deaffe and dome:
For wit can not, conceiue till sight send in
Some skill to head, whereby we knowledge win.
If straungers speake, but straungely on our state,
Thinke nothing straunge, though straungers write amis:
If straungers do, our natiue people hate,
Our Countrey knowes, how straunge their nature is.
Most straunge it were, to trust a forayne foe,
Or fauour those, that we for straungers knowe:
Then straungely reade, the bookes that straungers make,
For feare ye shroude, in bosome stinging Snake.
Thinke nothing straunge, though straungers write amis:
If straungers do, our natiue people hate,
Our Countrey knowes, how straunge their nature is.
Most straunge it were, to trust a forayne foe,
Or fauour those, that we for straungers knowe:
Then straungely reade, the bookes that straungers make,
For feare ye shroude, in bosome stinging Snake.
The straungers still, in auncient tyme that wrate,
Exalt themselues, and keepes vs vnder foote:
As we of kynd, and nature doe them hate,
So beare they rust, and canker at the roote
Of heart, to vs, when pen to paper goeth,
Their cunning can, with craft so cloke a troeth,
That hardly we, shall haue them in the winde,
To smell them forth, or yet their finenesse finde.
Exalt themselues, and keepes vs vnder foote:
As we of kynd, and nature doe them hate,
So beare they rust, and canker at the roote
Of heart, to vs, when pen to paper goeth,
Their cunning can, with craft so cloke a troeth,
That hardly we, shall haue them in the winde,
To smell them forth, or yet their finenesse finde.
Of force then must, you credite our owne men,
(Whose vertues works, a glorious garland gaynes)
Who had the gift, the grace and arte of pen:
And who did write, with such sweete flowing vaynes,
That Honey seem'd, to drop from Poets quill:
I say no more, trust straungers and ye will,
Our Countrey breedes, as faithfull men as those,
As famous too, in stately verse or prose.
(Whose vertues works, a glorious garland gaynes)
Who had the gift, the grace and arte of pen:
And who did write, with such sweete flowing vaynes,
That Honey seem'd, to drop from Poets quill:
I say no more, trust straungers and ye will,
Our Countrey breedes, as faithfull men as those,
As famous too, in stately verse or prose.
And trueth I trowe, is likte among vs best:
For each man frounes, when fabling toyes they heare,
And though we count, but Robin Hood a Iest,
And old wiues tales, as tatling toyes appeare:
Yet Arthurs raigne, the world cannot denye,
Such proofe there is, the troth thereof to trye:
That who so speakes, against so graue a thing,
Shall blush to blot, the fame of such a King.
For each man frounes, when fabling toyes they heare,
And old wiues tales, as tatling toyes appeare:
Yet Arthurs raigne, the world cannot denye,
Such proofe there is, the troth thereof to trye:
That who so speakes, against so graue a thing,
Shall blush to blot, the fame of such a King.
Condemne the daies, of elders great or small,
And then blurre out, the course of present tyme:
Cast one age downe, and so doe orethrow all,
And burne the bookes, of printed prose or ryme:
Who shall beleeue, he rules or she doth raigne
In tyme to come, if writers loose their paine:
The pen records, tyme past and present both,
Skill brings foorth bookes, and bookes is nurse to troth.
And then blurre out, the course of present tyme:
Cast one age downe, and so doe orethrow all,
And burne the bookes, of printed prose or ryme:
Who shall beleeue, he rules or she doth raigne
In tyme to come, if writers loose their paine:
The pen records, tyme past and present both,
Skill brings foorth bookes, and bookes is nurse to troth.
Now followes the Castles and Townes neere Oske, and there aboutes.
A pretie
Towne, calde Oske neere Raggland stands,
A Riuer there, doth beare the selfesame name:
His Christall streames, that runnes along the Sands,
Shewes that it is, a Riuer of great fame.
Fresh water sweete, this goodly Riuer yeelds,
And when it swels, it spreads ore all the Feelds:
Great store of Fish, is caught within this flood,
That doth in deede, both Towne and Countrey good.
A Riuer there, doth beare the selfesame name:
His Christall streames, that runnes along the Sands,
Shewes that it is, a Riuer of great fame.
Fresh water sweete, this goodly Riuer yeelds,
And when it swels, it spreads ore all the Feelds:
Great store of Fish, is caught within this flood,
That doth in deede, both Towne and Countrey good.
A thing to note, when Sammon failes in Wye,
(And season there: goes out as order is)
Than still of course, in Oske doth Sammons lye,
And of good Fish, in Oske you shall not mis.
And this seemes straunge, as doth through Wales appeere,
In some one place, are Sammons all the yeere.
So fresh, so sweete, so red, so crimp withall,
As man might say, loe, Sammon here at call.
(And season there: goes out as order is)
Than still of course, in Oske doth Sammons lye,
And of good Fish, in Oske you shall not mis.
And this seemes straunge, as doth through Wales appeere,
In some one place, are Sammons all the yeere.
As man might say, loe, Sammon here at call.
King Edward the fourth and his children, (as some affirme), and King Richard the third, were borne here.
A Seate where Kings, and Princes haue bene borne:
It stands full ore, a goodly pleasant Plaine,
The walles whereof, and towers are all to torne,
(With wethers blast, and tyme that weares all out)
And yet it hath, a fayre prospect about:
Trim Meades and walkes, along the Riuers side,
With Bridge well built, the force of flood to bide.
Upon the side, of wooddie hill full fayre,
This Castle stands, full sore decayde and broke:
Yet builded once, in fresh and wholesome ayre,
Full neere great Woods, and many a mightie Oke.
But sith it weares, and walles so wastes a way,
In praise thereof, I mynd not much to say:
Each thing decayd, goes quickly out of minde,
A rotten house, doth but fewe fauours finde.
This Castle stands, full sore decayde and broke:
Yet builded once, in fresh and wholesome ayre,
Full neere great Woods, and many a mightie Oke.
But sith it weares, and walles so wastes a way,
In praise thereof, I mynd not much to say:
Each thing decayd, goes quickly out of minde,
A rotten house, doth but fewe fauours finde.
Three Castles fayre, are in a goodly ground,
Grosmont is one, on Hill it builded was:
Skenfreth the next, in Ualley is it found,
The Soyle about, for pleasure there doth passe.
Whit Castle is, the third of worthie fame,
The Countrey there, doth beare Whit Castles name,
A stately Seate, a loftie princely place,
Whose beautie giues, the simple Soyles some grace.
Grosmont is one, on Hill it builded was:
Skenfreth the next, in Ualley is it found,
The Soyle about, for pleasure there doth passe.
Whit Castle is, the third of worthie fame,
The Countrey there, doth beare Whit Castles name,
A stately Seate, a loftie princely place,
Whose beautie giues, the simple Soyles some grace.
Two myles from that, vpon a mightie Hill,
Langibby stands, a Castle once of state:
Where well you may, the Countrey view at will,
And where there is, some buildings newe of late.
A wholesome place, a passing plat of ground,
As good an ayre, as there abouts is found:
It seemes to sight, the Seate was plast so well,
In elders daies, some Duke therein did dwell.
Langibby stands, a Castle once of state:
Where well you may, the Countrey view at will,
And where there is, some buildings newe of late.
A wholesome place, a passing plat of ground,
As good an ayre, as there abouts is found:
In elders daies, some Duke therein did dwell.
Carleon now, step in with stately style,
No feeble phrase, may serue to set thee forth:
Thy famous Towne, was spoke of many a myle,
Thou hast bene great, though now but little worth.
Thy noble bounds, hath reacht beyond them all,
In thee hath bene, King Arthurs golden Hall:
In thee the wise, and worthies did repose,
And through thy Towne, the water ebs and flowes.
No feeble phrase, may serue to set thee forth:
Thy famous Towne, was spoke of many a myle,
Thou hast bene great, though now but little worth.
Thy noble bounds, hath reacht beyond them all,
In thee hath bene, King Arthurs golden Hall:
In thee the wise, and worthies did repose,
And through thy Towne, the water ebs and flowes.
Come
learned lore with loftie style,
and leade these lynes of myne:
Come gracious Gods, and spare a whyle
to me the Muses nyne.
Come Poets all, whose passing phrase
doth pearce the finest wits:
Come knowledge whereon world doth gase,
(yet still in iudgement sits)
And helpe my pen to play his parte,
for pen is stept on stage,
To shewe by skill and cunning arte,
the state of former age.
For present tyme hath friends enowe,
to flatter faune and faine:
And elders daies I knowe not how,
doe dwell in deepe disdaine.
No friend for auncient yeeres we finde,
our age loues youth alone:
The former age weares out of minde,
as though such tyme were none.
and leade these lynes of myne:
Come gracious Gods, and spare a whyle
to me the Muses nyne.
Come Poets all, whose passing phrase
doth pearce the finest wits:
Come knowledge whereon world doth gase,
(yet still in iudgement sits)
And helpe my pen to play his parte,
for pen is stept on stage,
To shewe by skill and cunning arte,
the state of former age.
For present tyme hath friends enowe,
to flatter faune and faine:
And elders daies I knowe not how,
doe dwell in deepe disdaine.
No friend for auncient yeeres we finde,
our age loues youth alone:
The former age weares out of minde,
as though such tyme were none.
King Arthurs raigne (though true it weare)
Is now of small account:
The fame of Troy is knowne each where,
And to the Skyes doth mount.
Is now of small account:
And to the Skyes doth mount.
Both Athens, Theabes, and Carthage too
We hold of great renowne:
What then I pray you shall we doo,
To poore Carleon Towne.
We hold of great renowne:
What then I pray you shall we doo,
To poore Carleon Towne.
King Arthur sure was crowned there,
It was his royall Seate:
And in that Towne did Scepter beare,
With pompe and honor greate.
It was his royall Seate:
And in that Towne did Scepter beare,
With pompe and honor greate.
An Archbishop that Dubrick hight,
Did crowne this King in deede:
Foure Kings before him bore in sight,
Foure golden Swords we reede.
Did crowne this King in deede:
Foure Kings before him bore in sight,
Foure golden Swords we reede.
These Kings were famous of renowne,
Yet for their homage due:
Repayrd vnto Carleon Towne,
As I rehearse to you.
Yet for their homage due:
Repayrd vnto Carleon Towne,
As I rehearse to you.
How many Dukes, and Earles withall,
Good Authors can you tell:
And so true writers shewe you shall,
How Arthur there did dwell.
Good Authors can you tell:
And so true writers shewe you shall,
How Arthur there did dwell.
What Court he kept, what Acts he did,
What Conquest he obtaynd:
And in what Princely honor still,
King Arthur long remaynd.
What Conquest he obtaynd:
And in what Princely honor still,
King Arthur long remaynd.
Queene Gueneuer was crown'd likewise,
In Iulius Church they say:
Where that fower Queenes in solemne guise,
(In royall rich aray).
In Iulius Church they say:
(In royall rich aray).
Foure Pigeons white, bore in their hands
Before the Princesse face:
In signe the Queene of Brittish Lands,
Was worthie of that grace.
Before the Princesse face:
In signe the Queene of Brittish Lands,
Was worthie of that grace.
Carleon lodged all these Kings.
And many a noble Knight:
As may be prou'd by sondrie things,
That I haue seene in sight.
And many a noble Knight:
As may be prou'd by sondrie things,
That I haue seene in sight.
The bounds hath bene nine myles about,
The length thereof was great:
It shewes it self this day throughout,
It was a Princes Seate.
The length thereof was great:
It shewes it self this day throughout,
It was a Princes Seate.
In Arthurs tyme a Table round,
Was there whereat he sate:
As yet a plot of goodly ground,
Sets foorth that rare estate,
Was there whereat he sate:
As yet a plot of goodly ground,
Sets foorth that rare estate,
The Citie reacht to Creetchurch than,
And to Saint Gillyans both:
Which yet appeares to view of man,
To trye this tale a troth.
And to Saint Gillyans both:
Which yet appeares to view of man,
To trye this tale a troth.
There are such Uautes and hollowe Caues,
Such walles and Condits deepe:
Made all like pypes of earthen pots,
Wherein a child may creepe.
Such walles and Condits deepe:
Made all like pypes of earthen pots,
Wherein a child may creepe.
Such streates and pauements sondrie waies,
To euery market Towne:
Such Bridges built in elders daies,
And things of such renowne.
To euery market Towne:
And things of such renowne.
As men may muse of to behold,
But chiefly for to note:
There is a Castle very old,
That may not be forgot.
But chiefly for to note:
There is a Castle very old,
That may not be forgot.
It stands vpon a forced Hill,
Not farre from flowing flood:
Where loe ye view long Uales at will,
Enuyron'd all with wood.
Not farre from flowing flood:
Where loe ye view long Uales at will,
Enuyron'd all with wood.
From Castle all these things are seene,
as pleasures of the eye:
The goodly Groues and Uallies greene,
and wooddie Mountaines hye.
The crooked Creekes and pretie Brookes,
that are amid the Plaine:
The flowing Tydes that spreads the land,
and turnes to Sea againe.
The stately Woods that like a hoope,
doth compasse all the Uale:
The Princely plots that stands in troope,
to beautifie the Dale.
The Riuers that doth daily runne,
as cleare as Christall stone:
Shewes that most pleasures vnder Sunne,
Carleon had alone.
as pleasures of the eye:
The goodly Groues and Uallies greene,
and wooddie Mountaines hye.
The crooked Creekes and pretie Brookes,
that are amid the Plaine:
The flowing Tydes that spreads the land,
and turnes to Sea againe.
The stately Woods that like a hoope,
doth compasse all the Uale:
The Princely plots that stands in troope,
to beautifie the Dale.
The Riuers that doth daily runne,
as cleare as Christall stone:
Shewes that most pleasures vnder Sunne,
Carleon had alone.
Great ruth to see so braue a Soyle,
Fall in so sore decay:
In sorowe sit, full nere the foyle,
As Fortune fled away.
Fall in so sore decay:
As Fortune fled away.
And world forsooke to knowledge those,
That earst hath bene so greate:
Where Kings and graue Philosophers,
Made once therein their Seate.
That earst hath bene so greate:
Where Kings and graue Philosophers,
Made once therein their Seate.
Vrbs legionum was it namde,
In Cæsars daies I trowe:
And Arthur holding resdence there,
(As stories plainly showe).
In Cæsars daies I trowe:
And Arthur holding resdence there,
(As stories plainly showe).
Not only Kings and noble Peeres,
Repayrde vnto that place:
But learned men full many yeeres,
Receiu'd therein their grace.
Repayrde vnto that place:
But learned men full many yeeres,
Receiu'd therein their grace.
Than you that auncient things denyes,
Let now your talke surcease:
When profe is brought before your eyes,
Ye ought to hold your peace.
Let now your talke surcease:
When profe is brought before your eyes,
Ye ought to hold your peace.
And let Carleon haue his right,
And ioye his wonted fame:
And let each wise and worthie wight,
Speake well of Arthurs name.
And ioye his wonted fame:
And let each wise and worthie wight,
Speake well of Arthurs name.
Would God the brute thereof were knowne,
In Countrey, Court, and Towne:
And she that sits in reagall Throne,
With Scepter, Sword, and Crowne.
In Countrey, Court, and Towne:
And she that sits in reagall Throne,
With Scepter, Sword, and Crowne.
(Who came from Arthurs rase and lyne)
Would marke these matters throwe:
And shewe thereon her gracious eyne,
To helpe Carleon now.
Would marke these matters throwe:
To helpe Carleon now.
Thus farre my pen in Arthurs praise,
Hath past for plainnesse sake:
In honor of our elders daies,
That keepes my muse awake.
Hath past for plainnesse sake:
In honor of our elders daies,
That keepes my muse awake.
All only for to publish plaine,
Tyme past, tyme present both:
That tyme to come, may well retaine,
Of each good tyme, the troth.
Tyme past, tyme present both:
That tyme to come, may well retaine,
Of each good tyme, the troth.
[Now must I touch, a matter fit to knowe]
Now
must I touch, a matter fit to knowe,
A Fort and strength, that stands beyond this Towne:
On which you shall, behold the noblest showe,
(Looke round about, and so looke rightly downe)
That euer yet, I sawe or man may view:
Upon that Hill, there shall appeare to you,
Of seauen Shieres, a part and portion great,
Where Hill it selfe, is sure a warlike Seate.
A Fort and strength, that stands beyond this Towne:
On which you shall, behold the noblest showe,
(Looke round about, and so looke rightly downe)
That euer yet, I sawe or man may view:
Upon that Hill, there shall appeare to you,
Of seauen Shieres, a part and portion great,
Where Hill it selfe, is sure a warlike Seate.
Ten thousand men, may lodge them there vnseene,
In trebble Dykes, that gards the Fortresse well:
And yet amid, the Fort a goodly greene,
Where that a power, and mightie Campe may dwell:
In spyte of world, if Soldiours victuall haue.
The Hill so stands, if Bird but wing doe waue,
Or man or beast, but once stirre vp the head
A Bowe aboue, with shaft shall strike it dead.
In trebble Dykes, that gards the Fortresse well:
And yet amid, the Fort a goodly greene,
Where that a power, and mightie Campe may dwell:
The Hill so stands, if Bird but wing doe waue,
Or man or beast, but once stirre vp the head
A Bowe aboue, with shaft shall strike it dead.
The Hill commaunds, a maruels way and scope,
It seemes it stood, farre off for Townes defence,
And in the warres, it was Carleons hope:
Or els in deede, the Duke of Gloster sence
(That did destroy, both Towne and all therein)
To serue his turne, this Fortresse did begin.
Not farre from this, much like vnto the same,
Tombarlowm stands, a Mountaine of some fame.
It seemes it stood, farre off for Townes defence,
And in the warres, it was Carleons hope:
Or els in deede, the Duke of Gloster sence
(That did destroy, both Towne and all therein)
To serue his turne, this Fortresse did begin.
Not farre from this, much like vnto the same,
Tombarlowm stands, a Mountaine of some fame.
A Towne nere this, that buylt is all a length,
Cal'd Neawport now, there is full fayre to viewe:
Which Seate doth stand, for profite more then strength,
A right strong Bridge, is there of Timber newe:
A Riuer runnes, full nere the Castle wall:
Nere Church likewise, a Mount behold you shall,
Where Sea and Land, to sight so plaine appeeres,
That there men see, a part of fiue fayre Sheeres.
Cal'd Neawport now, there is full fayre to viewe:
Which Seate doth stand, for profite more then strength,
A right strong Bridge, is there of Timber newe:
A Riuer runnes, full nere the Castle wall:
Nere Church likewise, a Mount behold you shall,
Where Sea and Land, to sight so plaine appeeres,
That there men see, a part of fiue fayre Sheeres.
As vpward hye, aloft to Mountaine top,
This Market towne, is buylt in healthfull sort:
So downeward loe, is many a Marchants shop,
And many sayle, to Bristowe from that Port.
Of auncient tyme, a Citie hath it bin,
And in those daies, the Castle hard to win:
Which yet shewes fayre, and is repayrd a parte,
As things decayd, must needes be helpt by arte.
This Market towne, is buylt in healthfull sort:
So downeward loe, is many a Marchants shop,
And many sayle, to Bristowe from that Port.
Of auncient tyme, a Citie hath it bin,
And in those daies, the Castle hard to win:
Which yet shewes fayre, and is repayrd a parte,
As things decayd, must needes be helpt by arte.
A goodly Seate, a Tower, a princely pyle,
Built as a watch, or saftie for the Soyle,
By Riuer stands, from Neawport not three myle.
This house was made, when many a bloodie broyle,
In Wales God wot, destroyd that publicke state:
Here men with sword, and shield did braules debate:
Here saftie stood, for many things in deede,
That sought sauegard, and did some sucker neede.
Built as a watch, or saftie for the Soyle,
By Riuer stands, from Neawport not three myle.
This house was made, when many a bloodie broyle,
Here men with sword, and shield did braules debate:
Here saftie stood, for many things in deede,
That sought sauegard, and did some sucker neede.
The name thereof, the nature shewes a right,
Greenefield it is, full gay and goodly sure:
A fine sweete Soyle, most pleasant vnto sight,
That for delight, and wholesome ayre so pure,
It may be praisde, a plot sought out so well,
As though a King, should say here will I dwell:
The Pastures greene, the woods, and water cleere.
Sayth any Prince may buyld a Pallace heere.
Greenefield it is, full gay and goodly sure:
A fine sweete Soyle, most pleasant vnto sight,
That for delight, and wholesome ayre so pure,
It may be praisde, a plot sought out so well,
As though a King, should say here will I dwell:
The Pastures greene, the woods, and water cleere.
Sayth any Prince may buyld a Pallace heere.
And in this place, and many parts about,
Is grasse and Corne, and fertile ground enough:
And now a while, to speake of Wales throughout,
Where if men would, take paynes to plye the Plough:
Digge out of drosse, the treasure of the earth,
And fall to toyle, and labour from their birth:
They should as soone, to store of wealth attaine,
As other Soyles, whose people takes great paine.
Is grasse and Corne, and fertile ground enough:
And now a while, to speake of Wales throughout,
Where if men would, take paynes to plye the Plough:
Digge out of drosse, the treasure of the earth,
And fall to toyle, and labour from their birth:
They should as soone, to store of wealth attaine,
As other Soyles, whose people takes great paine.
But most of Wales, likes better ease and rest,
(Loues meate and mirth, and harmelesse quiet daies)
Than for to toyle, and trouble brayne and brest,
To vexe the mynd, with worldly wearie waies.
Some stand content, with that which God shall send,
And on their lands, their stock and store doth spend:
And rubs out life, cleane voyde of further care,
Because in world, right well to liue they are.
(Loues meate and mirth, and harmelesse quiet daies)
Than for to toyle, and trouble brayne and brest,
To vexe the mynd, with worldly wearie waies.
Some stand content, with that which God shall send,
And on their lands, their stock and store doth spend:
And rubs out life, cleane voyde of further care,
Because in world, right well to liue they are.
Yet were they bent, to proule and purchace still,
And search out wealth, as other Nations doe:
They haue a Soyle, a Countrey rich at will,
Which can them make, full quickly wealthie too.
They haue begun, of late to lime their land.
And plowes the ground, where sturdie Okes did stand:
Conuerts the meares, and marrish euery where,
Whose barraine earth, begins good fruite to beare.
And search out wealth, as other Nations doe:
They haue a Soyle, a Countrey rich at will,
Which can them make, full quickly wealthie too.
And plowes the ground, where sturdie Okes did stand:
Conuerts the meares, and marrish euery where,
Whose barraine earth, begins good fruite to beare.
They teare vp Trees, and takes the rootes away,
Makes stonie fieldes, smooth fertile fallowe ground:
Brings Pastures bare, to beare good grasse for Hay,
By which at length, in wealth they will abound.
Wales is this day (behold throughout the Sheeres,
In better state, than twas these hundred yeeres:
More rich, more fine, and further more to tell,
Fewe men haue knowne, the Countrey halfe so well.
Makes stonie fieldes, smooth fertile fallowe ground:
Brings Pastures bare, to beare good grasse for Hay,
By which at length, in wealth they will abound.
Wales is this day (behold throughout the Sheeres,
In better state, than twas these hundred yeeres:
More rich, more fine, and further more to tell,
Fewe men haue knowne, the Countrey halfe so well.
Whereas at first, they sought for Corne farre off,
(To helpe the wants, of Wales when grayne was deere)
Now on the boord, they haue both Cheese and lofe,
To shewe the world, in house is greater cheere.
The open Plaine, that hath his rubbish lost,
Saith plentie is, through Wales in euery coast:
The well wrought ground, that thousands may behold,
Where thornes did growe, sayth now there springs vp gold.
(To helpe the wants, of Wales when grayne was deere)
Now on the boord, they haue both Cheese and lofe,
To shewe the world, in house is greater cheere.
The open Plaine, that hath his rubbish lost,
Saith plentie is, through Wales in euery coast:
The well wrought ground, that thousands may behold,
Where thornes did growe, sayth now there springs vp gold.
I meane where weedes, and thistles long hath growne,
(Wild drosse and docks, and stinking nettles vile)
There Barley sweete, and goodly Wheate is sowne,
Which makes men rich, that liu'd in lacke long while.
No gift nor gayne, more great and good to man,
Then that which toyle, and honest labour wan:
What sweat of browes, brings in is sugred sweete,
Makes glad the mynd, and comforts hart and spreete.
(Wild drosse and docks, and stinking nettles vile)
There Barley sweete, and goodly Wheate is sowne,
Which makes men rich, that liu'd in lacke long while.
No gift nor gayne, more great and good to man,
Then that which toyle, and honest labour wan:
What sweat of browes, brings in is sugred sweete,
Makes glad the mynd, and comforts hart and spreete.
Aborgaynies Towne is walled round about, and hath fayre Suburbs also.
Returne
I must, to my discourse before,
Of Borrow townes, and Castles as they are:
Aborgaynie, behind I kept in store,
Whose Seate and Soyle, with best may well compare.
The Towne somewhat, on steepe and mounting hill,
With Pastor grounds, and Meddowes great at will.
On euery side, huge Mountaines hard and hye,
And some thicke woods, to please the gazers eye.
Of Borrow townes, and Castles as they are:
It stands ouer two little Riuers called Ceybbie and Ceyuennie, of which Ceyuen̄ie, Aborgeuenie tooke the name.
Whose Seate and Soyle, with best may well compare.
The Towne somewhat, on steepe and mounting hill,
With Pastor grounds, and Meddowes great at will.
On euery side, huge Mountaines hard and hye,
And some thicke woods, to please the gazers eye.
The Riuer Oske, along the Uale doth passe,
Right vnderneath, an auncient Bridge of stone:
A goodly worke, when first it reared was,
(And yet the Shiere, can shewe no such a one)
Makes men to knowe, old Buildings were not bare,
And newe things blush, that steps not so in place,
With suretie good, and shewe to step on stage,
To make newe world, to honor former age.
Right vnderneath, an auncient Bridge of stone:
A goodly worke, when first it reared was,
(And yet the Shiere, can shewe no such a one)
Makes men to knowe, old Buildings were not bare,
And newe things blush, that steps not so in place,
With suretie good, and shewe to step on stage,
To make newe world, to honor former age.
For former tyme, built Townes and Castles trim,
Made Bridges braue, and strong for tyme to come:
And our young daies, that doth in glorie swim,
Holds hard in hand, that finger fast may thome.
Looke what tyme past, made gallant fresh and fayre,
Tyme present spoyles, or will not well repayre:
As in this Towne, a stately Castle shoes,
Which loe to ruyne, and wretched wracke it goes.
Made Bridges braue, and strong for tyme to come:
And our young daies, that doth in glorie swim,
Holds hard in hand, that finger fast may thome.
Looke what tyme past, made gallant fresh and fayre,
Tyme present spoyles, or will not well repayre:
As in this Towne, a stately Castle shoes,
Which loe to ruyne, and wretched wracke it goes.
Most goodly Towers, are bare and naked laft,
That cou'red were, with timber and good lead:
These Towers yet stand, as streight as doth a shaft,
The walles whereof, might serue to some good stead.
For sound and thicke, and wondrous high withall,
They are in deede, and likely not to fall:
Would God therefore, the owner of the same,
Did stay them vp, for to encreace his fame.
That cou'red were, with timber and good lead:
These Towers yet stand, as streight as doth a shaft,
The walles whereof, might serue to some good stead.
They are in deede, and likely not to fall:
Would God therefore, the owner of the same,
Did stay them vp, for to encreace his fame.
Who doth delight, to see a goodly Plaine,
Faire Riuers runne, great woods and mountaines hye:
Let him a while, in any Tower remaine,
And he shall see, that may content the eye.
Great ruth to let, so trim a Seate goe downe,
The Countries strength, and beautie of the Towne:
A Lordly place, a princely plot and viewe,
That laughs to scorne, our patched buildings newe.
Faire Riuers runne, great woods and mountaines hye:
Let him a while, in any Tower remaine,
And he shall see, that may content the eye.
Great ruth to let, so trim a Seate goe downe,
The Countries strength, and beautie of the Towne:
A Lordly place, a princely plot and viewe,
That laughs to scorne, our patched buildings newe.
The shell of this, I meane the walles without,
The worthie worke, that is so finely wrought:
The Sellers deepe, and buildings round about,
The firme Freestone, that was so derely bought,
Makes men lament, the losse of such a thing,
That was of late, a house for any King.
Yea who so wayes, the worth of Castle yet,
With heauie mynd, in muse and dump shall sit.
The worthie worke, that is so finely wrought:
The Sellers deepe, and buildings round about,
The firme Freestone, that was so derely bought,
Makes men lament, the losse of such a thing,
That was of late, a house for any King.
Yea who so wayes, the worth of Castle yet,
With heauie mynd, in muse and dump shall sit.
To see so strong, and stately worke decay,
The same disease, hath Oske in Castle wall:
Which on maine Rocke, was builded euery way,
And now Got wot, is readie downe to fall.
A number more, in Monmouth Shiere I finde,
That can not well, abyde a blast of winde:
The losse is theirs, that sees them ouerthrowne,
The gaine were ours, if yet they were our owne.
The same disease, hath Oske in Castle wall:
Which on maine Rocke, was builded euery way,
And now Got wot, is readie downe to fall.
A number more, in Monmouth Shiere I finde,
That can not well, abyde a blast of winde:
The losse is theirs, that sees them ouerthrowne,
The gaine were ours, if yet they were our owne.
Though Castle here, through trackt of tyme is worne,
A Church remaines, that worthie is of note:
Where worthie men, that hath bene nobly borne,
Were layd in Tombe, which els had bene forgot.
And buried cleane, in graue past mynd of man,
As thousans are, forgot since world began:
Whose race was great, and who for want of Tome,
In dust doth dwell, vnknowne till day of Dome.
A Church remaines, that worthie is of note:
Where worthie men, that hath bene nobly borne,
Were layd in Tombe, which els had bene forgot.
As thousans are, forgot since world began:
Whose race was great, and who for want of Tome,
In dust doth dwell, vnknowne till day of Dome.
In Church there lyes a noble Knight,
Enclosde in wall right well:
Crosselegged as it seemes to sight,
(Or as record doth tell)
He was of high and princely blood,
His Armes doth shewe the same:
For thereby may be vnderstood,
He was a man of fame.
A shield of blacke he beares on brest,
A white Crowe plaine thereon:
A ragged sleeue in top and crest,
All wrought in goodly stone.
And vnder feete, a Greyhound lyes,
Three golden Lyons gay,
Nine Flowerdeluces there likewise,
His Armes doth full display.
Enclosde in wall right well:
Crosselegged as it seemes to sight,
(Or as record doth tell)
He was of high and princely blood,
His Armes doth shewe the same:
For thereby may be vnderstood,
He was a man of fame.
A shield of blacke he beares on brest,
A white Crowe plaine thereon:
A ragged sleeue in top and crest,
All wrought in goodly stone.
And vnder feete, a Greyhound lyes,
Three golden Lyons gay,
Nine Flowerdeluces there likewise,
His Armes doth full display.
A Lord that once enioyde that Seate,
Lyes there in sumptuous sort:
They say as loe his race was great,
So auncient men report.
His force was much: for he by strength
With Bull did struggle so,
He broke cleane off his hornes at length,
And therewith let him go.
This Lord a Bull hath vnder feete,
And as it may be thought,
A Dragon vnder head doth lye,
In stone full finely wrought.
The worke and Tombe so auncient is,
(And of the oldest guyse)
My first bare view, full well may mis,
To shewe how well he lyes.
Lyes there in sumptuous sort:
They say as loe his race was great,
So auncient men report.
His force was much: for he by strength
With Bull did struggle so,
He broke cleane off his hornes at length,
And therewith let him go.
This Lord a Bull hath vnder feete,
And as it may be thought,
A Dragon vnder head doth lye,
In stone full finely wrought.
The worke and Tombe so auncient is,
(And of the oldest guyse)
To shewe how well he lyes.
A Tombe in deede, of charge and showe,
Amid the Chappell stands:
Where William Thomas Knight ye knowe,
Lyes long with stretched hands.
A Harbert was he cal'd of right,
Who from great kindred cam,
And married to a worthie wight,
Daughter to Dauie Gam,
(A Knight likewise, of right and name)
This Harbert and his Feere,
Lyes there like one that purchast fame,
As plainly doth appeere.
His Tombe is rich, and rare to viewe,
Well wrought of great deuice:
Though it be old, Tombes made but newe,
Are of no greater price.
His Armes three ramping Lyons white,
Behind his head in shield:
A crowned Lyon blacke is hers,
Set out in most rich field:
Behind her head is likewise there,
Loe what our elders did,
To make those famous euery where,
Whose vertues are not hid.
Amid the Chappell stands:
Where William Thomas Knight ye knowe,
Lyes long with stretched hands.
A Harbert was he cal'd of right,
Who from great kindred cam,
And married to a worthie wight,
Daughter to Dauie Gam,
(A Knight likewise, of right and name)
This Harbert and his Feere,
Lyes there like one that purchast fame,
As plainly doth appeere.
His Tombe is rich, and rare to viewe,
Well wrought of great deuice:
Though it be old, Tombes made but newe,
Are of no greater price.
His Armes three ramping Lyons white,
Behind his head in shield:
A crowned Lyon blacke is hers,
Set out in most rich field:
Behind her head is likewise there,
Loe what our elders did,
To make those famous euery where,
Whose vertues are not hid.
In Tombe as trim as that before,
Sir Richard Harbert lyes:
He was at Banbrie field of yore,
And through the battaile twise:
He past with Pollax in his hands,
A manly act in deede,
To preace among so many bands,
As you of him may reede.
The valiant Knight, at Colbroke dwelt,
Nere Aborgaynie towne:
Who when his fatall destnie felt,
And Fortune flong him downe,
Among his enemies lost his head,
A rufull tale to tell:
Yet buryed was as I haue said,
In sumptuous Tombe full well.
His wife Dame Margret by his side,
Lyes there likewise for troth:
Their Armes as yet may be tryed,
(In honor of them both)
Stands at their heads, three Lyons white
He giues as well he might:
Three Rauens blacke, in shield she giues,
As Daughter to a Knight.
A sheafe of Arrowes vnder head,
He hath as due to him:
Thus there these worthie couple lye,
In Tombe full fine and trim.
Sir Richard Harbert lyes:
He was at Banbrie field of yore,
And through the battaile twise:
He past with Pollax in his hands,
A manly act in deede,
To preace among so many bands,
As you of him may reede.
Nere Aborgaynie towne:
Who when his fatall destnie felt,
And Fortune flong him downe,
Among his enemies lost his head,
A rufull tale to tell:
Yet buryed was as I haue said,
In sumptuous Tombe full well.
His wife Dame Margret by his side,
Lyes there likewise for troth:
Their Armes as yet may be tryed,
(In honor of them both)
Stands at their heads, three Lyons white
He giues as well he might:
Three Rauens blacke, in shield she giues,
As Daughter to a Knight.
A sheafe of Arrowes vnder head,
He hath as due to him:
Thus there these worthie couple lye,
In Tombe full fine and trim.
Now in another passing Tombe,
Of beautie and of charge,
There lyes a Squire (that Harbert hight)
With cost set out at large.
Two Daughters and sixe Sonnes also,
Are there set nobly forth:
With other workes that makes the showe,
And Monument more worth.
Himselfe, his wife, and children to,
Lyes shrouded in that Seate:
Now somewhat for that Squire I do,
Because his race was great.
He was the father of that Earle,
That dyed Lord Steward late,
A man of might, of spreet most rare,
And borne to happie fate.
His father layd so richly here,
So long agoe withall,
Shewes to the lookers on full cleere,
(When this to mynd they call)
This Squire was of an auncient race,
And borne of noble blood:
Sith that he dyed in such a cace,
And left such wordly good,
To make a Tombe so rich and braue:
Nay further now to say,
The three white white Lyons that he gaue
In Armes, doth race bewray:
And makes them blush and hold downe browe,
That babble out of square.
Rest there and to my matter now:
Upon this Tombe there are
Three Lyons and three white Bores heads:
The first three are his owne.
The white Bores heads his wife she gaue,
As well in Wales is knowne.
A Lyon at his feete doth lye,
At head a Dragon greene:
More things who lists to search with eye,
On Tombe may well be seene.
Of beautie and of charge,
There lyes a Squire (that Harbert hight)
With cost set out at large.
Two Daughters and sixe Sonnes also,
Are there set nobly forth:
With other workes that makes the showe,
And Monument more worth.
Himselfe, his wife, and children to,
Lyes shrouded in that Seate:
Now somewhat for that Squire I do,
Because his race was great.
He was the father of that Earle,
That dyed Lord Steward late,
A man of might, of spreet most rare,
His father layd so richly here,
So long agoe withall,
Shewes to the lookers on full cleere,
(When this to mynd they call)
This Squire was of an auncient race,
And borne of noble blood:
Sith that he dyed in such a cace,
And left such wordly good,
To make a Tombe so rich and braue:
Nay further now to say,
The three white white Lyons that he gaue
In Armes, doth race bewray:
And makes them blush and hold downe browe,
That babble out of square.
Rest there and to my matter now:
Upon this Tombe there are
Three Lyons and three white Bores heads:
The first three are his owne.
The white Bores heads his wife she gaue,
As well in Wales is knowne.
A Lyon at his feete doth lye,
At head a Dragon greene:
More things who lists to search with eye,
On Tombe may well be seene.
Amid the Church, Lord Hastings lay,
Lord Aborgaynie than:
And since his death remou'd away,
By fine deuice of man:
And layd within a windowe right,
Full flat on stonie wall:
Where now he doth in open sight,
Remaine to people all.
The windowe is well made and wrought,
A costly worke to see:
In which his noble Armes are thought,
Of purpose there to bee.
A ragged sleeue and sixe red Birds,
Is portrayd in the Glasse:
His wife hath there her left arme bare,
It seemes her sleeue it was
That hangs about his necke full fine,
Right ore a Purple weede:
A robe of that same colour too,
The Ladie weares in deede.
Under his legges a Lyon red,
His Armes are rare and ritch:
A Harrold that could shewe them well,
Can blase not many fitch.
Sixe Lyons white, the ground fayre blew,
Three Flowerdeluces gold:
The ground of them is red of hew,
And goodly to behold.
But note a greater matter now,
Upon his Tombe in stone
Were foreteene Lords that knees did bow,
Unto this Lord alone.
Of this rare worke a porch is made,
The Barrons there remaine
In good old stone, and auncient trade,
To shewe all ages plaine.
What homage was to Hastings due,
What honour he did win:
What Armes he gaue, and so to blaze
What Lord had Hastings bin.
Lord Aborgaynie than:
And since his death remou'd away,
By fine deuice of man:
And layd within a windowe right,
Full flat on stonie wall:
Where now he doth in open sight,
Remaine to people all.
The windowe is well made and wrought,
A costly worke to see:
Of purpose there to bee.
A ragged sleeue and sixe red Birds,
Is portrayd in the Glasse:
His wife hath there her left arme bare,
It seemes her sleeue it was
That hangs about his necke full fine,
Right ore a Purple weede:
A robe of that same colour too,
The Ladie weares in deede.
Under his legges a Lyon red,
His Armes are rare and ritch:
A Harrold that could shewe them well,
Can blase not many fitch.
Sixe Lyons white, the ground fayre blew,
Three Flowerdeluces gold:
The ground of them is red of hew,
And goodly to behold.
But note a greater matter now,
Upon his Tombe in stone
Were foreteene Lords that knees did bow,
Unto this Lord alone.
Of this rare worke a porch is made,
The Barrons there remaine
In good old stone, and auncient trade,
To shewe all ages plaine.
What homage was to Hastings due,
What honour he did win:
What Armes he gaue, and so to blaze
What Lord had Hastings bin.
Right ore against this windowe, loe
In stone a Ladie lyes:
And in her hands a Hart I troe,
She holds before your eyes:
And on her breast, a great fayre shield,
In which she beares no more
But three great Flowerdeluces large:
And euen loe, right ore
Her head another Ladie lyes
With Squirrell on her hand,
And at her feete, in stone likewise,
A couching Hound doth stand:
They say her Squirrell lept away,
And toward it she run:
And as from fall she sought to stay
The little pretie Bun,
Right downe from top of wall she fell,
And tooke her death thereby.
Thus what I heard, I doe you tell,
And what is seene with eye.
In stone a Ladie lyes:
And in her hands a Hart I troe,
She holds before your eyes:
And on her breast, a great fayre shield,
But three great Flowerdeluces large:
And euen loe, right ore
Her head another Ladie lyes
With Squirrell on her hand,
And at her feete, in stone likewise,
A couching Hound doth stand:
They say her Squirrell lept away,
And toward it she run:
And as from fall she sought to stay
The little pretie Bun,
Right downe from top of wall she fell,
And tooke her death thereby.
Thus what I heard, I doe you tell,
And what is seene with eye.
A friend of myne who lately dyed,
That Doctor Lewis hight:
Within that Church his Tombe I spyed,
Well wrought and fayre to sight.
O Lord (quoth I) we all must dye,
No lawe, nor learnings lore:
No iudgement deepe, nor knowledge hye,
No riches lesse or more,
No office, place, nor calling great,
No worldly pompe at all,
Can keepe vs from the mortall threat
Of death, when God doth call.
Sith none of these good gifts on earth,
Haue powre to make vs liue:
And no good fortune from our birth,
No hower of breath can giue.
Thinke not on life and pleasure heere,
They passe like beames of Sunne:
For nought from hence we carrie cleere,
When man his race hath runne.
That Doctor Lewis hight:
Within that Church his Tombe I spyed,
Well wrought and fayre to sight.
O Lord (quoth I) we all must dye,
No lawe, nor learnings lore:
No iudgement deepe, nor knowledge hye,
No riches lesse or more,
No office, place, nor calling great,
No worldly pompe at all,
Can keepe vs from the mortall threat
Of death, when God doth call.
Sith none of these good gifts on earth,
Haue powre to make vs liue:
And no good fortune from our birth,
No hower of breath can giue.
Thinke not on life and pleasure heere,
They passe like beames of Sunne:
For nought from hence we carrie cleere,
When man his race hath runne.
An Introduction for Breaknoke Shiere.
Is
bodie tyerd with trauaile, God forbid,
That wearie bones, so soone should seeke for rest:
Shall sences sleepe, when head in house is hid,
As though some charme, were crept in quiet brest.
And so bewitch, the wits with too much ease,
That duls good spreete, and blunts quicke sharpe deuice:
Which climes the Clowdes, and wades through deepest Seas,
And goes before, and breakes the frozen Ice,
To cleere the coast, and make the passage free
For trau'lers all, that will great secrets see.
That wearie bones, so soone should seeke for rest:
Shall sences sleepe, when head in house is hid,
As though some charme, were crept in quiet brest.
And so bewitch, the wits with too much ease,
That duls good spreete, and blunts quicke sharpe deuice:
Which climes the Clowdes, and wades through deepest Seas,
And goes before, and breakes the frozen Ice,
To cleere the coast, and make the passage free
For trau'lers all, that will great secrets see.
When quick conceyt, by slouth is rockt asleepe,
And fresh deuice, goes faynt for lacke of vse:
Along the limmes, doth lazie humours creepe,
And daylie breedes, in bodie great abuse.
If mettall fine, be not kept cleane from rust,
The brightest blade, will sure some cancker take:
And when cleere things, are staynd with drosse and dust,
They must be skour'd by skill, for profites sake.
Wit is nought worth, in ydle braine to rest,
Nor gold doth good, that still lyes lockt in chest.
And fresh deuice, goes faynt for lacke of vse:
Along the limmes, doth lazie humours creepe,
And daylie breedes, in bodie great abuse.
If mettall fine, be not kept cleane from rust,
The brightest blade, will sure some cancker take:
And when cleere things, are staynd with drosse and dust,
They must be skour'd by skill, for profites sake.
Wit is nought worth, in ydle braine to rest,
Nor gold doth good, that still lyes lockt in chest.
The soft Downe bed, and Chamber warm'd with fire,
Or thicke furd gowne, is all that sluggard seekes:
But men of spreete, whose hearts do still aspire,
Do labour long, with leane and lentten cheekes,
To trye the world, and taste both sweete and sower:
Who much doth see, may much both speake and write:
Who little knowes, hath little wit or power
To winne the wise, or dwell in worlds delight.
Feare not to toyle, for he that sowes in paine,
Shall reape with ioye, for store good Corne againe.
Or thicke furd gowne, is all that sluggard seekes:
But men of spreete, whose hearts do still aspire,
Do labour long, with leane and lentten cheekes,
To trye the world, and taste both sweete and sower:
Who much doth see, may much both speake and write:
Who little knowes, hath little wit or power
To winne the wise, or dwell in worlds delight.
Feare not to toyle, for he that sowes in paine,
Shall reape with ioye, for store good Corne againe.
In reachlesse youth, whiles fancie flewe with winde,
Feete could not stay, the bodie mou'd so fast:
For euery part, thereof did answer minde,
Till aged yeeres, sayd wanton daies were past.
If that be true, sound iudgement should be fraught
With grauer thoughts, and greater things of weight:
Sith sober sence, at lightnesse now hath laught,
Thy reason should, set crooked matters streight:
And newly frame, a forme of fine deuice,
That vertue may, bring knowledge most in price.
Feete could not stay, the bodie mou'd so fast:
For euery part, thereof did answer minde,
Till aged yeeres, sayd wanton daies were past.
If that be true, sound iudgement should be fraught
With grauer thoughts, and greater things of weight:
Sith sober sence, at lightnesse now hath laught,
Thy reason should, set crooked matters streight:
And newly frame, a forme of fine deuice,
That vertue may, bring knowledge most in price.
To treate of tyme, and make discourse of men,
And how the world, doth chop and chaunge estate,
Doth well become, an auncient writers pen:
If skill will serue, such secretes to debate.
If no, hold on the course thou hast begun,
To talke of Townes, and Castles as they are:
And looke thou doe, no toyle nor trauaile shun,
To set foorth things, that be both straunge and rare.
If age doe droope, and can abide no toyle,
When thou comest home, yet set out some sweete Soyle.
And how the world, doth chop and chaunge estate,
Doth well become, an auncient writers pen:
If skill will serue, such secretes to debate.
If no, hold on the course thou hast begun,
To talke of Townes, and Castles as they are:
And looke thou doe, no toyle nor trauaile shun,
To set foorth things, that be both straunge and rare.
If age doe droope, and can abide no toyle,
When thou comest home, yet set out some sweete Soyle.
Though ioynts waxe stiffe, and bodie heauie growes,
And backe bends downe, to earth where corps must lye:
And legges be lame, and gowte creepes in the toes,
Cold crampe, and cough, makes groning goast to crye.
When fits are past, if any rest be found,
Plye pen againe, for that shall purchase praise:
Yea though thou canst, not ride so great a ground,
As all ore Wales, in thyne old aged daies:
Forget no place, nor Soyle where thou hast bin,
With Breaknocke Shiere, than now this booke begin.
And backe bends downe, to earth where corps must lye:
And legges be lame, and gowte creepes in the toes,
Cold crampe, and cough, makes groning goast to crye.
When fits are past, if any rest be found,
Plye pen againe, for that shall purchase praise:
Yea though thou canst, not ride so great a ground,
As all ore Wales, in thyne old aged daies:
Forget no place, nor Soyle where thou hast bin,
With Breaknocke Shiere, than now this booke begin.
Shewe what thyne eyes, are witnesse of for troth,
And leaue the rest, to them that after liues:
When man is cal'd, away to graue be goeth,
Death steales the life, that God and nature giues.
Thou hast no state, nor pattent here on earth,
But borrowed breath, the bodie beares about:
Death daylie wayts, on life from hower of birth,
And when he lists, he blowes thy candle out.
Then leaue some worke, in world before thou passe,
That friends may say, loe here a writer was.
And leaue the rest, to them that after liues:
Death steales the life, that God and nature giues.
Thou hast no state, nor pattent here on earth,
But borrowed breath, the bodie beares about:
Death daylie wayts, on life from hower of birth,
And when he lists, he blowes thy candle out.
Then leaue some worke, in world before thou passe,
That friends may say, loe here a writer was.
My Muse thus sayd, and so she shranke aside,
As though some Spreet, a space had spoke to mee:
With that I had, a friend of myne espyde,
That stood farre of, behind a Lawrell tree.
For whom I cal'd, and told him in his eare
My Muses tale: but therewithall his eyes
Bedeaw'd his cheekes, with many a bitter teare,
For sorrowe great, that from his heart did rise.
Oh friend (quoth he) thy race I see so short,
Thou canst not liue, to make of Wales report.
As though some Spreet, a space had spoke to mee:
With that I had, a friend of myne espyde,
That stood farre of, behind a Lawrell tree.
For whom I cal'd, and told him in his eare
My Muses tale: but therewithall his eyes
Bedeaw'd his cheekes, with many a bitter teare,
For sorrowe great, that from his heart did rise.
Oh friend (quoth he) thy race I see so short,
Thou canst not liue, to make of Wales report.
For first behold, how age and thy mishap,
Agreed in one, to tread thee vnder foote:
Thou wast long since, flong out of Fortunes lap,
When youths gay blowmes, forsooke both braunch and roote.
And left weake age, as bare as barraine stocke.
That neither fruite, nor leaues will growe vpon:
Can feeble bones, abide the sturdie shocke
Of Fortunes force, when youthfull strength is gon:
And if good chaunce, in youth hath fled from thee,
Be sure in age, thou canst not happie bee.
Agreed in one, to tread thee vnder foote:
Thou wast long since, flong out of Fortunes lap,
When youths gay blowmes, forsooke both braunch and roote.
And left weake age, as bare as barraine stocke.
That neither fruite, nor leaues will growe vpon:
Can feeble bones, abide the sturdie shocke
Of Fortunes force, when youthfull strength is gon:
And if good chaunce, in youth hath fled from thee,
Be sure in age, thou canst not happie bee.
Tis hap that must, maintaine thy cost and charge,
By some such meane, as great good turnes are gote:
Els walke or ride, abroade the world at large,
And yet great mynd, but makes old age to dote.
Thy trauaile past, shewes what may after fall,
Long iourneys breedes, disease and sicknesse oft:
Thou hast not health, nor wished wealth at call,
That glads the heart, and makes men looke aloft.
No sorer snib, nor nothing nips so neere,
As feele much want, yet shewe a merrie cheere.
By some such meane, as great good turnes are gote:
Els walke or ride, abroade the world at large,
And yet great mynd, but makes old age to dote.
Long iourneys breedes, disease and sicknesse oft:
Thou hast not health, nor wished wealth at call,
That glads the heart, and makes men looke aloft.
No sorer snib, nor nothing nips so neere,
As feele much want, yet shewe a merrie cheere.
My newfound friend, no sooner this had sayd,
(Which tryall knowes, both true and words of weight)
But that my mynd, from trauaile long was stayd,
Saue that I tooke, in hand a iourney streight,
To Breakenoke Towne, whose Seate once throughly pend,
(With some such notes, as season serues therefore)
There all the rest, of toyle should make an end,
Sith aged limmes, might trauaile Wales no more.
Right sorie sure, I can no further go,
Content perforce, sith hap will haue it so.
(Which tryall knowes, both true and words of weight)
But that my mynd, from trauaile long was stayd,
Saue that I tooke, in hand a iourney streight,
To Breakenoke Towne, whose Seate once throughly pend,
(With some such notes, as season serues therefore)
There all the rest, of toyle should make an end,
Sith aged limmes, might trauaile Wales no more.
Right sorie sure, I can no further go,
Content perforce, sith hap will haue it so.
Some men begin, to build a goodly Seate,
And frames a worke, of Timber bigge and large:
Yet long before, the workmanship be greate,
Another comes, and takes that plot in charge.
Men may not doe, no more then God permits,
The mynd it thinkes, great things to bring to passe:
But common course, so soone orecomes the wits,
In peeces lyes, mans state like broken glasse.
We purpose much, but little power we finde,
With good successe, to answer mightie minde.
And frames a worke, of Timber bigge and large:
Yet long before, the workmanship be greate,
Another comes, and takes that plot in charge.
Men may not doe, no more then God permits,
The mynd it thinkes, great things to bring to passe:
But common course, so soone orecomes the wits,
In peeces lyes, mans state like broken glasse.
We purpose much, but little power we finde,
With good successe, to answer mightie minde.
Well, that discourse, let goe as matter past,
To Breakenoke now, my pen and muse are prest:
And sith that Soyle, and towne shalbe the last,
That here I meane, to touch of all the rest,
In briefest sort, it shalbe written out:
Yet with such words, as caries credit still,
As other works, in world can breede no dout:
So this small peece, shall shewe my great good will,
That for farewell, to worthie Wales I make,
That followes here, before my leaue I take.
To Breakenoke now, my pen and muse are prest:
And sith that Soyle, and towne shalbe the last,
That here I meane, to touch of all the rest,
In briefest sort, it shalbe written out:
Yet with such words, as caries credit still,
So this small peece, shall shewe my great good will,
That for farewell, to worthie Wales I make,
That followes here, before my leaue I take.
O happie
princely Soyle, my pen is farre to bace,
My muse but serues in sted of foyle, to giue a Iewell grace.
My bare inuention cold, and barraine verses vaine,
When they thy glory should vnfold, they do thy Coūtrie staine.
Thy worth some worthie may, set out in golden lines,
And blaze ye same, wt colors gay, whose glistring beautie shines.
My boldnesse was to great, to take the charge in hand,
With wasted wits the braines to beat, to write on such a Land:
Whose people may compare, in high'st degree of praise,
With any now aliue that are, or were in elders daies.
Thy Townes and Castles fayre, so brauely stands in deede,
They should their honour much apayre, if they my verses neede.
A writers rurall rime, doth hinder thy good name:
For verse but entertaines the tyme, with toyes yt fancies frame.
With Tullies sugred tongue, or Virgils sharpe engine,
Thy rare renowne should still be rong, or sung in verse deuine.
A simple Poets pen, but blots white paper still,
And blurres the brute & praise of men, for want of cunning quill.
If Ouids skill I had, or could like Homer write,
Or Dant would make my muses glad, to please ye worlds delite.
Or Chawser lent me in these daies, some of his learned tales,
As Petrarke did his Lawra praise, so would I speak of Wales.
But all to late I craue, for knowledge wit and sence:
For looke what gifts ye Gods thē gaue, they tooke thē al frō hēce,
And left vs nought but bookes, to stare and pore vpon,
On which perchaūce blind bayard lookes, whē skil & sight is gō.
Our former age did floe, with grace and learned lore,
Then farre behind they come I troe, that striue to run before.
We must goe lagging on, as legges and limmes were lame,
And though long since ye gole was gon, & wit hath won ye game,
We shall haue roume to play, and tyme and place withall,
To looke, to reade, to write and say, what shall in fancie fall.
But woe is me the while, that ouerweenes in want,
When world may at my boldnes smile, to see my skill so scant.
Yet write in Countries praise, that I cannot set out,
And stands discourag'd many waies, to trauaile Wales about.
Yet take now well in worth, the works I haue begun,
I can no further thing set foorth, my daies are almost dun:
As candle cleere doth burne, to socket in small tyme,
So age to earth must needes returne, when youth hath past his pryme.
My muse but serues in sted of foyle, to giue a Iewell grace.
My bare inuention cold, and barraine verses vaine,
When they thy glory should vnfold, they do thy Coūtrie staine.
Thy worth some worthie may, set out in golden lines,
And blaze ye same, wt colors gay, whose glistring beautie shines.
My boldnesse was to great, to take the charge in hand,
With wasted wits the braines to beat, to write on such a Land:
Whose people may compare, in high'st degree of praise,
With any now aliue that are, or were in elders daies.
Thy Townes and Castles fayre, so brauely stands in deede,
They should their honour much apayre, if they my verses neede.
A writers rurall rime, doth hinder thy good name:
For verse but entertaines the tyme, with toyes yt fancies frame.
With Tullies sugred tongue, or Virgils sharpe engine,
Thy rare renowne should still be rong, or sung in verse deuine.
A simple Poets pen, but blots white paper still,
And blurres the brute & praise of men, for want of cunning quill.
If Ouids skill I had, or could like Homer write,
Or Dant would make my muses glad, to please ye worlds delite.
Or Chawser lent me in these daies, some of his learned tales,
As Petrarke did his Lawra praise, so would I speak of Wales.
But all to late I craue, for knowledge wit and sence:
For looke what gifts ye Gods thē gaue, they tooke thē al frō hēce,
And left vs nought but bookes, to stare and pore vpon,
On which perchaūce blind bayard lookes, whē skil & sight is gō.
Our former age did floe, with grace and learned lore,
Then farre behind they come I troe, that striue to run before.
We must goe lagging on, as legges and limmes were lame,
And though long since ye gole was gon, & wit hath won ye game,
To looke, to reade, to write and say, what shall in fancie fall.
But woe is me the while, that ouerweenes in want,
When world may at my boldnes smile, to see my skill so scant.
Yet write in Countries praise, that I cannot set out,
And stands discourag'd many waies, to trauaile Wales about.
Yet take now well in worth, the works I haue begun,
I can no further thing set foorth, my daies are almost dun:
As candle cleere doth burne, to socket in small tyme,
So age to earth must needes returne, when youth hath past his pryme.
Now Breakenoke shiere, as falleth to thy lot,
In place a peere, thou art not sure forgot:
Nor written of so much as I desire:
For sicknesse long, made bodie soone retyre
Unto the Towne where it was borne and bred,
And where perhaps, on turffe must lye my hed.
When labors all, shall reape a graue for rest,
And silent death, shall quiet troubled brest:
Then as I now, haue somewhat sayd on thee,
So shall some friend, haue tyme to write on mee.
Whose restlesse muse, and wearie waking minde,
To pleasure world, did oft great leasure finde:
And who reioyst, and tooke a great delight,
For knowledge sake, to studie reade and write.
In place a peere, thou art not sure forgot:
Nor written of so much as I desire:
For sicknesse long, made bodie soone retyre
Unto the Towne where it was borne and bred,
And where perhaps, on turffe must lye my hed.
When labors all, shall reape a graue for rest,
And silent death, shall quiet troubled brest:
Then as I now, haue somewhat sayd on thee,
So shall some friend, haue tyme to write on mee.
Whose restlesse muse, and wearie waking minde,
To pleasure world, did oft great leasure finde:
And who reioyst, and tooke a great delight,
For knowledge sake, to studie reade and write.
The Towne and Church of Breakenoke.
The
Towne is built, as in a pit it were,
By water side, all lapt about with hill:
You may behold a ruinous Castle there,
Somewhat defaste, the walles yet standeth still.
Small narrowe streates, through all the Towne ye haue,
Yet in the same, are sondrie houses braue:
Well built without, yea trim and fayre within,
With sweete prospect, that shall your fauour win.
By water side, all lapt about with hill:
You may behold a ruinous Castle there,
Somewhat defaste, the walles yet standeth still.
Small narrowe streates, through all the Towne ye haue,
Yet in the same, are sondrie houses braue:
With sweete prospect, that shall your fauour win.
The Riuer Oske, and Hondie runnes thereby,
Fower Bridges good, of stone stands ore each streame:
The greatest Bridge, doth to the Colledge lye,
A free house once, where many a rotten beame
Hath bene of late, through age and trackt of tyme:
Which Bishop now, refourmes with stone and lyme.
Had it not bene, with charge repayrd in haste,
That house and Seate, had surely gon to waste.
Fower Bridges good, of stone stands ore each streame:
The greatest Bridge, doth to the Colledge lye,
A free house once, where many a rotten beame
Hath bene of late, through age and trackt of tyme:
Which Bishop now, refourmes with stone and lyme.
Had it not bene, with charge repayrd in haste,
That house and Seate, had surely gon to waste.
Two Churches doth, belong vnto this Towne,
One stands on hill, where once a Priorie was:
Which chaung'd the name, when Abbyes were put downe,
But now the same, for Parrish Church doth passe.
Another place, for Morning prayer is,
Made long agoe, that standeth hard by this.
Built in this Church, a Tombe or two I finde,
That worthie is, in briefe to bring to minde.
One stands on hill, where once a Priorie was:
Which chaung'd the name, when Abbyes were put downe,
But now the same, for Parrish Church doth passe.
Another place, for Morning prayer is,
Made long agoe, that standeth hard by this.
Built in this Church, a Tombe or two I finde,
That worthie is, in briefe to bring to minde.
Three couple lyes, one ore the others head,
Along in Tombe, and all one race and lyne:
And to be plaine, two couple lyeth dead,
The third likewise, as destnie shall assyne,
Shall lye on top, right ore the other twaine:
Their pictures now, all readie there remaine,
In signe when God appoynts the terme and date,
All flesh and blood must yeeld to mortall fate.
Along in Tombe, and all one race and lyne:
And to be plaine, two couple lyeth dead,
The third likewise, as destnie shall assyne,
Shall lye on top, right ore the other twaine:
Their pictures now, all readie there remaine,
In signe when God appoynts the terme and date,
All flesh and blood must yeeld to mortall fate.
These are in deede, the auncient race of Gams,
A house and blood, that long rich Armes doth giue:
And now in Wales, are many of their names,
That keepes great trayne, and doth full brauely liue.
The eldest Sonne, and chiefest of that race,
Doth beare in Armes, a ramping Lyon crownd,
And three Speare heads, and three red Cocks in place.
A Dragons head, all greene therein is found:
And in his mouth, a red and bloodie hand,
All this and more, vpon the Tombe doth stand.
A house and blood, that long rich Armes doth giue:
And now in Wales, are many of their names,
That keepes great trayne, and doth full brauely liue.
The eldest Sonne, and chiefest of that race,
Doth beare in Armes, a ramping Lyon crownd,
A Dragons head, all greene therein is found:
And in his mouth, a red and bloodie hand,
All this and more, vpon the Tombe doth stand.
Three fayre boyes heads, and euery one of those
A Serpent hath close lapt about his necke:
A great white Bucke, and as you may suppose,
Right ore the same, (which doth it trimly decke)
A crowne there is, that makes a goodly shoe,
A Lyon blacke, and three Bulles heads I troe:
Three Flowerdeluce, all fresh and white they were,
Two Swords, two Crownes, with fayre long crosse is there.
A Serpent hath close lapt about his necke:
A great white Bucke, and as you may suppose,
Right ore the same, (which doth it trimly decke)
A crowne there is, that makes a goodly shoe,
A Lyon blacke, and three Bulles heads I troe:
Three Flowerdeluce, all fresh and white they were,
Two Swords, two Crownes, with fayre long crosse is there.
Three Bats, whose wings were spreaded all at large,
And three white barres were in these Armes likewise:
Let Harrolds now, to whom belongs that charge,
Describe these things, for me this may suffise.
Yet further now, I forced am to goe,
Of seuerall men, some other Armes to shoe.
Within that Church, there lyes beneath the Quere,
These persons two, whose names now shall ye heare.
And three white barres were in these Armes likewise:
Let Harrolds now, to whom belongs that charge,
Describe these things, for me this may suffise.
Yet further now, I forced am to goe,
Of seuerall men, some other Armes to shoe.
Within that Church, there lyes beneath the Quere,
These persons two, whose names now shall ye heare.
In Tombe of stone, full fayre and finely wrought,
One Waters lyes, with wife fast by his side:
Of some great stocke, these couple may be thought,
As by their Armes, on Tombe may well be tride.
Full at his feete, a goodly Greyhound lyes,
And at his head there is before your eyes
Three Libbarts heads, three cups, two Eagles splayd,
A fayre red Crosse: and further to be sayd,
One Waters lyes, with wife fast by his side:
Of some great stocke, these couple may be thought,
As by their Armes, on Tombe may well be tride.
Full at his feete, a goodly Greyhound lyes,
And at his head there is before your eyes
Three Libbarts heads, three cups, two Eagles splayd,
A fayre red Crosse: and further to be sayd,
A Lyon blacke, a Serpent fircely made,
With tayle wound vp: these Armes thus endeth so.
Crosse legg'd by him, as was the auncient trade,
Debreos lyes, in picture as I troe,
Of most hard wood: which wood as diuers say
No worme can eate, nor tyme can weare away:
A couching Hound, as Harrolds thought full meete,
In wood likewise, lyes vnderneath his feete.
With tayle wound vp: these Armes thus endeth so.
Crosse legg'd by him, as was the auncient trade,
Debreos lyes, in picture as I troe,
No worme can eate, nor tyme can weare away:
A couching Hound, as Harrolds thought full meete,
In wood likewise, lyes vnderneath his feete.
Iust by the same, Meredith Thomas lyes,
Who had great grace, great wit and worship both,
And world him thought, both happie blest and wise,
A man that lou'd, good Iustice faith and troth.
Right ore this Tombe, of stone, to his great fame,
Good store in deede of Latin verses are,
And euery verse, set foorth in such good frame,
That truely doth his life and death declare.
This man was likt, for many graces good
That he possest, besides his birth and blood.
Who had great grace, great wit and worship both,
And world him thought, both happie blest and wise,
A man that lou'd, good Iustice faith and troth.
Right ore this Tombe, of stone, to his great fame,
Good store in deede of Latin verses are,
And euery verse, set foorth in such good frame,
That truely doth his life and death declare.
This man was likt, for many graces good
That he possest, besides his birth and blood.
Somewhat of some Riuers and VVaters.
Of
other things, as farre as knowledge goes,
Now must I write, to furnish foorth this booke:
Some Shieres doe part at Waters, tryall showes
There, who so list vpon the same to looke.
Dulace doth runne, along vnto the Hay.
So Hartford shiere, from Breakenoke parteth there.
Brennick Deelyes, Thlauenny as they say
At Tawllgath meetes, so into Wye they beare:
From Arthurs Hill, Tytarell runnes apace,
And into Oske and Breakenoke runnes his race.
Now must I write, to furnish foorth this booke:
Some Shieres doe part at Waters, tryall showes
There, who so list vpon the same to looke.
Dulace doth runne, along vnto the Hay.
Maister Robert Knowles that maried one of the heires of the Vaughhans hath a fayre house and a Parke at Portthamwell.
Brennick Deelyes, Thlauenny as they say
At Tawllgath meetes, so into Wye they beare:
From Arthurs Hill, Tytarell runnes apace,
And into Oske and Breakenoke runnes his race.
Nere Breakenoke Towne, there is a Mountaine hye,
Which shewes so huge, it is full hard to clime:
The Mountaine seemes so monstrous to the eye,
Yet thousands doe repayre to that sometime.
And they that stand, right on the top shal see
A wonder great, as people doe report:
Which common brute, and saying true may bee,
But since in deede, I did not there resort,
I write no more, then world will witnesse well:
Let them that please, of those straunge wonders tell.
Which shewes so huge, it is full hard to clime:
The Mountaine seemes so monstrous to the eye,
Yet thousands doe repayre to that sometime.
A wonder great, as people doe report:
Which common brute, and saying true may bee,
But since in deede, I did not there resort,
I write no more, then world will witnesse well:
Let them that please, of those straunge wonders tell.
What is set downe, I haue it surely seene,
As one that toyld and trauayld for the troth:
I will not say, such things are as I weene,
And frame a verse, as common voyces goeth.
Nor yet to please the humors of some men,
I list not stretch, nor racke my termes awry:
My muse will not so farre abuse the pen,
That writer shall gayne any blot thereby:
So he haue thanke in vsing ydle quill,
He seekes no more for paines and great good will.
As one that toyld and trauayld for the troth:
I will not say, such things are as I weene,
And frame a verse, as common voyces goeth.
Nor yet to please the humors of some men,
I list not stretch, nor racke my termes awry:
My muse will not so farre abuse the pen,
That writer shall gayne any blot thereby:
So he haue thanke in vsing ydle quill,
He seekes no more for paines and great good will.
Ludloe Towne, Church and Castle.
The
Towne doth stand most part vpon an Hill,
Built well and fayre, with streates both large and wide:
The houses such, where straungers lodge at will.
As long as there the Councell lists abide,
Both fine and cleane the streates are all throughout,
With Condits cleere, and wholesome water springs:
And who that lists to walke the Towne about,
Shall finde therein some rare and pleasant things:
But chiefly there the ayre so sweete you haue,
As in no place ye can no better craue.
Built well and fayre, with streates both large and wide:
The houses such, where straungers lodge at will.
As long as there the Councell lists abide,
Both fine and cleane the streates are all throughout,
With Condits cleere, and wholesome water springs:
And who that lists to walke the Towne about,
Shall finde therein some rare and pleasant things:
But chiefly there the ayre so sweete you haue,
As in no place ye can no better craue.
The Market house, where Corne and Cates are sold,
Is couered ore, and kept in finest sort:
From which ye shall, the Castle well behold,
And to which walke, doe many men resort.
On euery side thereof fayre houses are,
That makes a shewe, to please both mynd and eye:
The Church nere that, where monuments full rare
There is, (wherein doth sondrie people lye)
My pen shall touch, because the notes I finde
Therein, deserue to be well borne in minde.
Is couered ore, and kept in finest sort:
Nere this is a fayre house of Maister Sackfords which he hid buyld, and a fayre house that Master Secretarie Foxe did bestowe great charges on, & a house that Maister Berrie dwelles in. M. Townes-end hath a fayre house at Saint Austins once a Frierie. The Lord President Sir Harrie Sidneys Daughter, called Ambrosia, is entombed here in most brauest maner and great chargeable workmanship on the right hand of the Aulter. On the same is my Lord of Warwicks Armes excellētly wrought, and my Lord Presidents Armes and others, are in like sort there richly set out.
And to which walke, doe many men resort.
On euery side thereof fayre houses are,
That makes a shewe, to please both mynd and eye:
The Church nere that, where monuments full rare
There is, (wherein doth sondrie people lye)
My pen shall touch, because the notes I finde
Therein, deserue to be well borne in minde.
Within the Quere, there is a Ladie layd
In Tombe most rich, the top of fayre Touchstone:
There was bestow'd in honour of this mayd,
Great cost and charge, the trueth may well be knowne.
For as the Tombe, is built in sumptuous guise,
So to the same, a closet fayre is wrought,
Where Lords may sit in stately solemne wise,
As though it were a fine deuice of thought,
To beautifie both Tombe and euery part
Of that fayre worke, that there is made by arte.
In Tombe most rich, the top of fayre Touchstone:
There was bestow'd in honour of this mayd,
Great cost and charge, the trueth may well be knowne.
For as the Tombe, is built in sumptuous guise,
So to the same, a closet fayre is wrought,
Where Lords may sit in stately solemne wise,
As though it were a fine deuice of thought,
To beautifie both Tombe and euery part
Of that fayre worke, that there is made by arte.
Against that Tombe, full on the other side,
A Knight doth lye, that Iustice Townesend hight:
His wife likewise, so soone as that she dyed,
In this rich Tombe, was buryed by this Knight:
And trueth to tell, Dame Alice was her name,
An Heire in deede, that brought both wealth and land,
And as world sayth, a worthie vertuous Dame,
Whose auncient Armes, in colours there doth stand:
And many more, whose Armes I doe not knowe,
Unto this Knight, are ioyned all a roe.
A Knight doth lye, that Iustice Townesend hight:
His wife likewise, so soone as that she dyed,
In this rich Tombe, was buryed by this Knight:
And trueth to tell, Dame Alice was her name,
An Heire in deede, that brought both wealth and land,
And as world sayth, a worthie vertuous Dame,
Whose auncient Armes, in colours there doth stand:
And many more, whose Armes I doe not knowe,
Unto this Knight, are ioyned all a roe.
Amid the Church, a Chantrie Chappell stands,
Where Hozier lyes, a man that did much good:
Bestow'd great wealth, and gaue thereto some lands,
And helpt poore soules that in necessitie stood.
As many men, are bent to win good will
By some good turne, that they may freely showe:
So Hoziers hands, and head were working still:
For those he did, in det or daunger knowe.
He smyld to see, a begger at his doore:
For all his ioye, was to releeue the poore.
Where Hozier lyes, a man that did much good:
Bestow'd great wealth, and gaue thereto some lands,
And helpt poore soules that in necessitie stood.
By some good turne, that they may freely showe:
So Hoziers hands, and head were working still:
For those he did, in det or daunger knowe.
He smyld to see, a begger at his doore:
For all his ioye, was to releeue the poore.
Another man, whose name was Cookes for troth,
Like Hozier was, in all good gifts of grace:
This Cookes did giue, great lands and liuings both,
For to maintaine, a Chauntrie in that place.
A yeerely dole, and monthly almes likewise
He ordaynd there, which now the poore doe mis:
His wife and he, within that Chappell lyes,
Where yet full plaine, the Chauntrie standing is:
Some other things, of note there may you see
Within that Church, not touched now by mee.
Like Hozier was, in all good gifts of grace:
This Cookes did giue, great lands and liuings both,
For to maintaine, a Chauntrie in that place.
A yeerely dole, and monthly almes likewise
He ordaynd there, which now the poore doe mis:
His wife and he, within that Chappell lyes,
Where yet full plaine, the Chauntrie standing is:
Some other things, of note there may you see
Within that Church, not touched now by mee.
Yet Beawpy must, be nam'd good reason why,
For he bestow'd, great charge before he dyde,
To helpe poore men, and now his bones doth lye
Full nere the Font, vpon the formost side.
Thus in those daies, the poore was lookt vnto,
The rich was glad, to fling great wealth away:
So that their almes, the poore some good might do.
In poore mens boxe, who doth his treasure lay,
Shall finde againe, ten fold for one he leaues:
Or els my hope, and knowledge me deceiues.
For he bestow'd, great charge before he dyde,
To helpe poore men, and now his bones doth lye
Full nere the Font, vpon the formost side.
Thus in those daies, the poore was lookt vnto,
The rich was glad, to fling great wealth away:
So that their almes, the poore some good might do.
In poore mens boxe, who doth his treasure lay,
Shall finde againe, ten fold for one he leaues:
Or els my hope, and knowledge me deceiues.
The
Castle now, I mynd here to set out,
It stands right well, and pleasant to the vewe,
With sweete prospect, yea all the field about.
An auncient Seate, yet many buildings newe
Lord Presdent made, to giue it greater fame:
But if I must, discourse of things as true,
There are great works, that now doth beare no name,
Which were of old, and yet may pleasure you
To see the same: for loe in elders daies
Was much bestow'd, that now is much to praise.
It stands right well, and pleasant to the vewe,
With sweete prospect, yea all the field about.
An auncient Seate, yet many buildings newe
Lord Presdent made, to giue it greater fame:
But if I must, discourse of things as true,
Which were of old, and yet may pleasure you
To see the same: for loe in elders daies
Was much bestow'd, that now is much to praise.
Ouer a Chimney excellently wrought in the best chamber, is S. Androwes Crosse ioyned to Prince Arthurs Armes in the hallwindowe.
(A worthie worke, that fewe or none may mend)
This worke not such, that it may passe alone:
For as the tyme, did alwaies people send
To world, that might exceede in wit and spreete:
So sondrie sorts of works are in that Seate,
That for so hye a stately place is meete:
Which shewes this day, the workmanship is greate.
Looke on my Lords, and speak your fancies throw,
And you will praise, fayre Ludloe Castle now.
In it besides, (the works are here vnnam'd)
A Chappell is, most trim and costly sure,
So brauely wrought, so fayre and finely fram'd,
That to worlds end, the beautie may endure.
About the same, are Armes in colours sitch,
As fewe can shewe, in any Soyle or place:
A great deuice, a worke most rare and ritch:
Which truely shewes, the Armes, the blood and race
Of sondrie Kings, but chiefly Noble men,
That here in prose, I will set out with pen.
A Chappell is, most trim and costly sure,
So brauely wrought, so fayre and finely fram'd,
That to worlds end, the beautie may endure.
About the same, are Armes in colours sitch,
As fewe can shewe, in any Soyle or place:
A great deuice, a worke most rare and ritch:
Which truely shewes, the Armes, the blood and race
Of sondrie Kings, but chiefly Noble men,
That here in prose, I will set out with pen.
The Towne of Ludloe, and many good gifts graunted to the same.
King
Edward fourth, for seruice truely done,
When Henry sixt, and he had mortall warre:
No sooner he, by force the victorie wone,
But with great things, the Towne he did prefarre.
Gaue lands thereto, and libertie full large,
Which royall gifts, his bountie did declare,
And dayly doth, mainteyne the Townes great charge:
Whose people now, in as great freedome are,
As any men, vnder this rule and Crowne,
That liues and dwels, in Citie or in Towne.
When Henry sixt, and he had mortall warre:
No sooner he, by force the victorie wone,
But with great things, the Towne he did prefarre.
Gaue lands thereto, and libertie full large,
Which royall gifts, his bountie did declare,
And dayly doth, mainteyne the Townes great charge:
Whose people now, in as great freedome are,
That liues and dwels, in Citie or in Towne.
That Towne hath bin well gouerned a lōg while with two Bayliefes, twelue Aldermen, and fiue and thirtie Commoners, a Recorder & a Townclarke assistant to the sayd Bayliefes by iudiciall course of lawe weekely, in as large and ample maner for their triall betweene partie and partie, as any Cittie or Borrowe of England hath.
Two Bayliefes rules, one yeere the Towne throughout,
Twelue Aldermen, they haue there in likewise:
Who doth beare sway, as turne doth come about,
Who chosen are, by oth and auncient guise.
Good lawes they haue, and open place to pleade,
In ample sort, for right and Iustice sake:
A Preacher too, that dayly there doth reade,
A Schoolemaster, that doth good schollers make.
And for the Queere, are boyes brought vp to sing,
And so serue God, and doe none other thing.
Twelue Aldermen, they haue there in likewise:
Who doth beare sway, as turne doth come about,
Who chosen are, by oth and auncient guise.
Good lawes they haue, and open place to pleade,
In ample sort, for right and Iustice sake:
A Preacher too, that dayly there doth reade,
A Schoolemaster, that doth good schollers make.
And for the Queere, are boyes brought vp to sing,
And so serue God, and doe none other thing.
Three tymes a day, in Church good Saruice is,
At sixe a clocke, at nine, and then at three:
In which due howers, a straunger shall not mis,
But sondrie sorts, of people there to see.
And thirtie three, poore persons they maintaine,
Who weekely haue, both money, almes and ayde:
Their lodging free, and further to be plaine,
Still once a weeke, the poore are truely payde:
Which shewes great grace, and goodnesse in that Seate,
Where rich doth see, the poore shall want no meate.
At sixe a clocke, at nine, and then at three:
In which due howers, a straunger shall not mis,
But sondrie sorts, of people there to see.
And thirtie three, poore persons they maintaine,
Who weekely haue, both money, almes and ayde:
Their lodging free, and further to be plaine,
Still once a weeke, the poore are truely payde:
Which shewes great grace, and goodnesse in that Seate,
Where rich doth see, the poore shall want no meate.
An Hospitall, there hath bene long of old,
And many things, pertayning to the same:
A goodly Guyld, the Township did vphold,
By Edwards gift, a King of worthie fame.
This Towne doth choose, two Burgesses alwaies
For Parliament, the custome still is so:
Two Fayres a yeere, they haue on seuerall daies,
Three Markets kept, but monday chiefe I troe:
And two great Parkes, there are full neere the Towne,
But those of right, pertaine vnto the Crowne.
And many things, pertayning to the same:
A goodly Guyld, the Township did vphold,
By Edwards gift, a King of worthie fame.
This Towne doth choose, two Burgesses alwaies
For Parliament, the custome still is so:
Two Fayres a yeere, they haue on seuerall daies,
Three Markets kept, but monday chiefe I troe:
And two great Parkes, there are full neere the Towne,
But those of right, pertaine vnto the Crowne.
These things rehearst, makes Ludloe honord mitch,
And world to thinke, it is an auncient Seate:
Where many men, both worthie wise and ritch
Were borne and bred, and came to credit great.
Our auncient Kings, and Princes there did rest,
Where now full oft, the Presdent dwels a space:
It stands for Wales, most apt, most fit and best,
And neerest to, at hand of any place:
Wherefore I thought, it good before I end,
Within this booke, this matter should be pend.
And world to thinke, it is an auncient Seate:
Where many men, both worthie wise and ritch
Were borne and bred, and came to credit great.
Our auncient Kings, and Princes there did rest,
Where now full oft, the Presdent dwels a space:
It stands for Wales, most apt, most fit and best,
And neerest to, at hand of any place:
Wherefore I thought, it good before I end,
Within this booke, this matter should be pend.
The rest of Townes, that in Shropshiere you haue,
I neede not touch, they are so throughly knowne:
And further more, I knowe they cannot craue
To be of Wales, how euer brute be blowne.
So wishing well, as duetie doth me binde,
To one and all, as farre as power may goe,
I knit vp here, as one that doth not minde
Of natiue Soyle, no further now to showe.
So cease my mule, let pen and paper pause,
Till thou art calde, to write of other cause.
I neede not touch, they are so throughly knowne:
And further more, I knowe they cannot craue
To be of Wales, how euer brute be blowne.
So wishing well, as duetie doth me binde,
To one and all, as farre as power may goe,
I knit vp here, as one that doth not minde
Of natiue Soyle, no further now to showe.
So cease my mule, let pen and paper pause,
Till thou art calde, to write of other cause.
An Introduction to remember Shropshiere.
How
hath thy muse so long bene luld a sleepe?
What deadly drinke, hath sence in slumber brought?
Doth poyson cold, through blood and bosome creepe?
Or is of spite, some charme by witchcraft wrought,
That vitall spreetes, hath lost their feeling quite?
Or is the hand, so weake it cannot write?
Come ydle man, and shewe some honest cause,
Why writers pen, makes now so great a pause.
What deadly drinke, hath sence in slumber brought?
Doth poyson cold, through blood and bosome creepe?
Or is of spite, some charme by witchcraft wrought,
That vitall spreetes, hath lost their feeling quite?
Or is the hand, so weake it cannot write?
Come ydle man, and shewe some honest cause,
Why writers pen, makes now so great a pause.
Can Wales be nam'de, and Shropshiere be forgote,
The marshes must, make muster with the rest:
Shall Sallop say, their countreyman doth dote,
To treate of things, and write what thinks him best.
No sure such fault, were dubble error plaine,
If in thy pen, be any Poets vayne,
Or gifts of grace, from Skyes did drop on thee,
Than Shrewsebrie Towne, thereof first cause must bee.
The marshes must, make muster with the rest:
Shall Sallop say, their countreyman doth dote,
To treate of things, and write what thinks him best.
No sure such fault, were dubble error plaine,
If in thy pen, be any Poets vayne,
Or gifts of grace, from Skyes did drop on thee,
Than Shrewsebrie Towne, thereof first cause must bee.
Both borne and bred, in that same Seate thou wast,
(Of race right good, or els Records do lye)
From whence to schoole, where euer Churchyard past.
To natiue Soyle, he ought to haue an eye,
Speake well of all, and write what world may proue,
Let nothing goe, beyond thy Countries loue:
Wales once it was, and yet to mend thy tale,
Make Wales the Parke, and plaine Shropshiere the pale.
(Of race right good, or els Records do lye)
From whence to schoole, where euer Churchyard past.
To natiue Soyle, he ought to haue an eye,
Speake well of all, and write what world may proue,
Let nothing goe, beyond thy Countries loue:
Wales once it was, and yet to mend thy tale,
Make Wales the Parke, and plaine Shropshiere the pale.
If pale be not, a speciall peece of Parke,
Sit silent now, and neither write nor speake:
But leaue out pale, and thou mayst misse the marke,
Thy muse would hit, or els thy shaft may breake
Against a stone, thou thinkst to glance vpon.
Now weigh these words, my chorlish check is gon,
More gentle speech, hereafter may I spend,
When that in verse, I see thy Countrie pend.
Sit silent now, and neither write nor speake:
But leaue out pale, and thou mayst misse the marke,
Thy muse would hit, or els thy shaft may breake
Against a stone, thou thinkst to glance vpon.
Now weigh these words, my chorlish check is gon,
More gentle speech, hereafter may I spend,
When that in verse, I see thy Countrie pend.
When Reasons threat, had rapt me on the pate,
(With priuie blowes, that neuer drawes no blood)
To studie streight, with pen and ynke I gate,
And sadly there, bethought me what was good.
But ere the locke, and doore was bolted fast,
Ten thousand toyes, in head through fancie past,
And twentie more, conceyts came rouling on,
That were too long, to talke and treat vpon.
(With priuie blowes, that neuer drawes no blood)
To studie streight, with pen and ynke I gate,
And sadly there, bethought me what was good.
But ere the locke, and doore was bolted fast,
Ten thousand toyes, in head through fancie past,
And twentie more, conceyts came rouling on,
That were too long, to talke and treat vpon.
Wherefore in briefe, I settled pen to worke,
For feare least world, found fault with slouthfull muse:
And calling vp, the spreetes that close did lurke
In cloke of ease, that would good wits abuse.
I held on way, to auncient Shrewsebrie Towne,
And so from horse, at lodging lighting downe,
I walkt the streates, and markt what came to vewe,
Found old things dead, as world were made a newe.
For feare least world, found fault with slouthfull muse:
And calling vp, the spreetes that close did lurke
In cloke of ease, that would good wits abuse.
I held on way, to auncient Shrewsebrie Towne,
And so from horse, at lodging lighting downe,
I walkt the streates, and markt what came to vewe,
Found old things dead, as world were made a newe.
For buildings gay, and gallant finely wrought,
Had old deuice, through tyme supplanted cleane:
Some houses bare, that seem'd to be worth nought,
Were fat within, that outward looked leane:
Wit had won wealth, to stuffe each emptie place,
The cunning head, and labouring hand had grace
To gayne and keepe, and lay vp still in store,
As man might say, the heart could wish no more.
Had old deuice, through tyme supplanted cleane:
Some houses bare, that seem'd to be worth nought,
Were fat within, that outward looked leane:
Wit had won wealth, to stuffe each emptie place,
The cunning head, and labouring hand had grace
To gayne and keepe, and lay vp still in store,
As man might say, the heart could wish no more.
A number sure, were ritch become of late,
By worldly meanes, by hap or wisedomes arte:
He had no praise, that did apayre his state,
And he most lawde, that playd the wisest parte.
To come by goods, well won with honest trade,
And warely looke, there were no hauock made:
Such thriftie men, doe dwell in Shrewsebrie now,
That all the Towne, is full of Marchants throw.
By worldly meanes, by hap or wisedomes arte:
He had no praise, that did apayre his state,
And he most lawde, that playd the wisest parte.
To come by goods, well won with honest trade,
And warely looke, there were no hauock made:
Such thriftie men, doe dwell in Shrewsebrie now,
That all the Towne, is full of Marchants throw.
And sondrie borne, of right good race and blood,
Who freely liues, from bondage euery way:
Whose rent and lands, whose wealth and worldly good,
(When other works, giues them free leaue to play)
Most part are ritch, or els right well to liue,
And to the poore, the godly people giue:
To preaching still, repayres both young and old,
Makes more thereof, then of ritch pearle or gold.
Who freely liues, from bondage euery way:
Whose rent and lands, whose wealth and worldly good,
(When other works, giues them free leaue to play)
Most part are ritch, or els right well to liue,
And to the poore, the godly people giue:
To preaching still, repayres both young and old,
Makes more thereof, then of ritch pearle or gold.
Now come to poynts, and rules of ciuill men,
Good maner calde, that shewes good nature still:
And so with Wales, ye may compare them then,
The meanest sort, I meane of slendrest skill.
For as some whelpes, that are of gentle kinde,
Exceedes curre dogges, that beares a doggish minde:
So these meeke folke, that meetes you in the streete,
Will curchie make, or shewe an humble spreete.
Good maner calde, that shewes good nature still:
And so with Wales, ye may compare them then,
The meanest sort, I meane of slendrest skill.
For as some whelpes, that are of gentle kinde,
Exceedes curre dogges, that beares a doggish minde:
So these meeke folke, that meetes you in the streete,
Will curchie make, or shewe an humble spreete.
This argues sure, they haue in Wales bin bred,
Or well brought vp, and taught where now they dwell:
If haughtie heart, be spyde by loftie hed,
And curteous folkes, by lookes are knowne full well:
Me thinkes the myld, wins all goodwill away,
The sturdie stands, like Stagge or Bucke at bay:
The tame white Doue, and Faulkon for delytes,
Are better farre, then fifteene hundred Kytes.
Or well brought vp, and taught where now they dwell:
If haughtie heart, be spyde by loftie hed,
And curteous folkes, by lookes are knowne full well:
Me thinkes the myld, wins all goodwill away,
The sturdie stands, like Stagge or Bucke at bay:
The tame white Doue, and Faulkon for delytes,
Are better farre, then fifteene hundred Kytes.
My theame is Wales, and to that theame I goe,
Perhaps some seede, of that same Soyle is here:
Sowne in such sort, that dayly it doth growe
In fayrest fourme, to furnish forth this shiere.
Admit the same, the sequell graunts it well,
Passe that discourse, and giue me leaue to tell
How Shrewsebrie stands, and of the Castles seate,
The Riuer large, and stonie bridge so greate.
Perhaps some seede, of that same Soyle is here:
Sowne in such sort, that dayly it doth growe
In fayrest fourme, to furnish forth this shiere.
Admit the same, the sequell graunts it well,
Passe that discourse, and giue me leaue to tell
How Shrewsebrie stands, and of the Castles seate,
The Riuer large, and stonie bridge so greate.
The Towne three parts, stands in a valley loe,
Three gates there are, through which you needes must passe,
As to the height, of Towne the people goe:
So Castle seemes, as twere a looking glasse,
To looke through all, and hold them all in awe,
Treangle wise, the gates and Towne doth drawe:
But Castle hill, spyes out each streate so plaine,
As though an eye, on them did still remaine.
Three gates there are, through which you needes must passe,
As to the height, of Towne the people goe:
So Castle seemes, as twere a looking glasse,
To looke through all, and hold them all in awe,
Treangle wise, the gates and Towne doth drawe:
But Castle hill, spyes out each streate so plaine,
As though an eye, on them did still remaine.
In midst of Towne, fower Parrish Churches are,
Full nere and close, together note that right:
The vewe farre of, is wondrous straunge and rare,
For they doe seeme, a true loue knot to sight:
They stand on hill, as Nature wrought a Seate,
To place them fower, in stately beautie greate:
As men deuout, to buyld these works tooke care,
So in these daies, these Temples famous are.
Full nere and close, together note that right:
The vewe farre of, is wondrous straunge and rare,
For they doe seeme, a true loue knot to sight:
They stand on hill, as Nature wrought a Seate,
To place them fower, in stately beautie greate:
As men deuout, to buyld these works tooke care,
So in these daies, these Temples famous are.
First for the cause, whereon they so were made,
Then for their fourme, and fashion framed fine:
Next for the cost, the stones and auncient trade,
And chiefe of all, for mans intent deuine.
Their placing thus, the plots whereon they stand,
The workmanship, with cunning Masons hand:
Their height and breadth, their length and thicknesse both,
Argues in deede, a wondrous worke of troth.
Then for their fourme, and fashion framed fine:
Next for the cost, the stones and auncient trade,
And chiefe of all, for mans intent deuine.
Their placing thus, the plots whereon they stand,
The workmanship, with cunning Masons hand:
Their height and breadth, their length and thicknesse both,
Argues in deede, a wondrous worke of troth.
Not farre from them, doth goodly Seuarne run,
An arme of Sea, a water large and deepe:
Whose headstrong streame, the Fisher can not shun,
Except by banke, both bote and he doth creepe.
This Riuer runs, to many a noble Towne,
As Wyster one, and Bristowe of renowne:
With moe besides, which here I neede not name,
The Card can shewe, both them and all their fame.
An arme of Sea, a water large and deepe:
Whose headstrong streame, the Fisher can not shun,
Except by banke, both bote and he doth creepe.
This Riuer runs, to many a noble Towne,
As Wyster one, and Bristowe of renowne:
With moe besides, which here I neede not name,
The Card can shewe, both them and all their fame.
About the walles, trim vnder goodly banks
Doth Seuarne passe, and comes by Cotten hill:
Much praise they hab, and purchast many thanks,
That at Stonebridge, made place for many a Mill,
About the Towne, this water may be brought,
If that a way, were nere the Castle wrought:
So Castle should, stand like a peereles mount,
And Shrewsebrie Towne, be had in great account.
Doth Seuarne passe, and comes by Cotten hill:
Much praise they hab, and purchast many thanks,
That at Stonebridge, made place for many a Mill,
About the Towne, this water may be brought,
If that a way, were nere the Castle wrought:
So Castle should, stand like a peereles mount,
And Shrewsebrie Towne, be had in great account.
Full from Welshbridge, along by meddowes greene,
The Riuer runs, most fayre and fine to vewe:
Such fruitfull ground, as this is seldome seene
In many parts, if that I heare be true.
Yet each man knowes, that grasse is in his pride,
And ayre is fresh, by euery Riuers side:
But sure this plot, doth farre surpasse the rest,
That by good lot, is not with graces blest.
The Riuer runs, most fayre and fine to vewe:
Such fruitfull ground, as this is seldome seene
In many parts, if that I heare be true.
Yet each man knowes, that grasse is in his pride,
And ayre is fresh, by euery Riuers side:
But sure this plot, doth farre surpasse the rest,
That by good lot, is not with graces blest.
Who hath desire, to vewe both hill and vale,
Walke vp old wall, of Castle rude and bare,
And he shall see, such pleasure set to sale,
In kindly sort, as though some Marchants ware
Were set in shop, to please the passer by:
Or els by shewe, beguyld the gazers eye:
For looke but downe, along the pleasant coast,
And he shall thinke, his labour is not lost.
Walke vp old wall, of Castle rude and bare,
And he shall see, such pleasure set to sale,
In kindly sort, as though some Marchants ware
Were set in shop, to please the passer by:
Or els by shewe, beguyld the gazers eye:
For looke but downe, along the pleasant coast,
And he shall thinke, his labour is not lost.
One way appeares, Stonebridge and Subbarbs there,
Which called is, the Abbey Forehed yet:
A long great streate, well builded large and faire,
In as good ayre, as may be wisht with wit:
Where Abbey stands, and is such ring of Belles,
As is not found, from London vnto Welles:
The Steeple yet, a gracious pardon findes,
To bide all blasts, all wethers stormes and windes.
Which called is, the Abbey Forehed yet:
A long great streate, well builded large and faire,
In as good ayre, as may be wisht with wit:
Where Abbey stands, and is such ring of Belles,
As is not found, from London vnto Welles:
The Steeple yet, a gracious pardon findes,
To bide all blasts, all wethers stormes and windes.
Another way, full ore Welshbridge there is,
An auncient streate, cal'd Franckwell many a day:
To Ozestri, the people passe through this,
And vnto Wales, it is the reddie way.
In Subbarbs to, is Castle Forehed both,
A streate well pau'd, two seuerall waies that goeth:
All this without, and all the Towne within,
When Castle stood, to vewe hath subiect bin.
An auncient streate, cal'd Franckwell many a day:
To Ozestri, the people passe through this,
And vnto Wales, it is the reddie way.
In Subbarbs to, is Castle Forehed both,
A streate well pau'd, two seuerall waies that goeth:
All this without, and all the Towne within,
When Castle stood, to vewe hath subiect bin.
But now doth hold, their freedome of the Prince,
And as is found, in Records true vnfaynd,
This trim shiere towne, was buylt a great while since:
Whose priuiledge, by loyaltie was gaynd.
Two Bayliefes there, doth rule as course doth fall,
In state like Maior, and orders good withall:
Each officer due, that fits for stately place,
Each yeere they haue, to yeeld the roume more grace.
And as is found, in Records true vnfaynd,
This trim shiere towne, was buylt a great while since:
Whose priuiledge, by loyaltie was gaynd.
Two Bayliefes there, doth rule as course doth fall,
In state like Maior, and orders good withall:
Each officer due, that fits for stately place,
Each yeere they haue, to yeeld the roume more grace.
On sollemne daies, in Scarlet gownes they goe.
Good house they keepe, as cause doth serue therefore:
But Christmas feasts, compares with all I knowe
Saue London sure, whose state is farre much more.
That Cities charge, makes straungers blush to see,
So princely still, it is in each degree:
But though it beare, a Torch beyond the best,
This Lanterne light, may shine among the rest.
Good house they keepe, as cause doth serue therefore:
But Christmas feasts, compares with all I knowe
Saue London sure, whose state is farre much more.
That Cities charge, makes straungers blush to see,
So princely still, it is in each degree:
But though it beare, a Torch beyond the best,
This Lanterne light, may shine among the rest.
This Towne with more, fit members for the head,
Makes London ritch, yet reapes great gayne from thence:
It giues good gold, for Clothes and markes of lead,
And for Welsh ware, exchaungeth English pence.
A fountaine head, that many Condits serue,
Keepes moyst drye Springs, and doth it selfe preserue:
The flowing Sea, to which all Riuers run,
May spare some shewres, to quench the heate of Sun.
Makes London ritch, yet reapes great gayne from thence:
It giues good gold, for Clothes and markes of lead,
And for Welsh ware, exchaungeth English pence.
A fountaine head, that many Condits serue,
Keepes moyst drye Springs, and doth it selfe preserue:
The flowing Sea, to which all Riuers run,
May spare some shewres, to quench the heate of Sun.
So London must, like mother to the Realme,
To all her babes, giue milke, giue sucke and pap:
Small Brookes swelles vp, by force of mightie streame,
As little things, from greatest gaynes good hap.
If Shrewsebrie thriue, and last in this good lucke,
It is not like, to lacke of worldly mucke:
The trade is great, the Towne and Seate stands well,
Great health they haue, in such sweete Soyles that dwell.
To all her babes, giue milke, giue sucke and pap:
Small Brookes swelles vp, by force of mightie streame,
As little things, from greatest gaynes good hap.
If Shrewsebrie thriue, and last in this good lucke,
It is not like, to lacke of worldly mucke:
The trade is great, the Towne and Seate stands well,
Great health they haue, in such sweete Soyles that dwell.
Thus farre I goe, to proue this Wales in deede,
Or els at least, the martches of the same:
But further speake, of Shiere it is no neede,
Saue Ludloe now, a Towne of noble fame:
A goodly Seate, where oft the Councell lyes,
Where Monuments, are found in auncient guyse:
Where Kings and Queenes, in pompe did long abyde,
And where God pleasde, that good Prince Arthur dyde.
Or els at least, the martches of the same:
But further speake, of Shiere it is no neede,
Saue Ludloe now, a Towne of noble fame:
A goodly Seate, where oft the Councell lyes,
Where Monuments, are found in auncient guyse:
Where Kings and Queenes, in pompe did long abyde,
And where God pleasde, that good Prince Arthur dyde.
This Towne doth front, on Wales as right as lyne,
So sondrie Townes, in Shropshiere doe for troth:
As Ozestry, a pretie Towne full fine,
Which may be lou'd, be likte and praysed both.
It stands so trim, and is maintaynd so cleane,
And peepled is, with folke that well doe meane:
That it deserues, to be enrould and shrynd
In each good breast, and euery manly mynd.
So sondrie Townes, in Shropshiere doe for troth:
As Ozestry, a pretie Towne full fine,
Which may be lou'd, be likte and praysed both.
It stands so trim, and is maintaynd so cleane,
And peepled is, with folke that well doe meane:
That it deserues, to be enrould and shrynd
In each good breast, and euery manly mynd.
The Market there, so farre exceedes withall,
As no one Towne, comes neere it in some sort:
For looke what may, be wisht or had at call,
It is there found, as market men report.
For Poultrie, Foule, of euery kind somewhat,
No place can shewe, so much more cheape then that:
All kind of Cates, that Countrie can afford,
For money there, is bought with one bare word.
As no one Towne, comes neere it in some sort:
For looke what may, be wisht or had at call,
It is there found, as market men report.
For Poultrie, Foule, of euery kind somewhat,
No place can shewe, so much more cheape then that:
All kind of Cates, that Countrie can afford,
For money there, is bought with one bare word.
They harke not long, about the thing they sell,
For price is knowne, of each thing that is brought:
Poore folke God wot, in Towne no longer dwell,
Then money had, perhaps a thing of nought:
So trudge they home, both barelegge and vnshod,
With song in Welsh, or els in praysing God:
O sweete content, O merrie mynd and mood,
With sweat of browes, thou lou'st to get thy food.
For price is knowne, of each thing that is brought:
Poore folke God wot, in Towne no longer dwell,
Then money had, perhaps a thing of nought:
So trudge they home, both barelegge and vnshod,
With song in Welsh, or els in praysing God:
O sweete content, O merrie mynd and mood,
With sweat of browes, thou lou'st to get thy food.
O plaine good folke, that haue no craftie braines,
O Conscience cleere, thou knowst no cunning knacks:
O harmlesse hearts, where feare of God remaines,
O simple Soules, as sweete as Uirgin waxe.
O happie heads, and labouring bodies blest,
O sillie Doues, of holy Abrahams brest:
You sleepe in peace, and rise in ioye and blisse,
For Heauen hence, for you prepared is.
O Conscience cleere, thou knowst no cunning knacks:
O harmlesse hearts, where feare of God remaines,
O simple Soules, as sweete as Uirgin waxe.
O happie heads, and labouring bodies blest,
O sillie Doues, of holy Abrahams brest:
You sleepe in peace, and rise in ioye and blisse,
For Heauen hence, for you prepared is.
Where shall we finde, such dealing now adaies?
Where is such cheere, so cheape and chaunge of fare?
Ride North and South, and search all beaten waies,
From Barwick bounds, to Venice if you dare,
And finde the like, that I in Wales haue found,
And I shall be, your slaue and bondman bound.
If Wales be thus, as tryall well shall proue,
Take Wales goodwill, and giue them neighbours loue.
Where is such cheere, so cheape and chaunge of fare?
Ride North and South, and search all beaten waies,
From Barwick bounds, to Venice if you dare,
And finde the like, that I in Wales haue found,
And I shall be, your slaue and bondman bound.
If Wales be thus, as tryall well shall proue,
Take Wales goodwill, and giue them neighbours loue.
To Ludloe now, my muse must needes returne,
A season short, no long discourse doth craue:
Tyme rouleth on, I doe but daylight burne,
And many things, in deede to doe I haue.
Looke what great Towne, doth front on Wales this hower,
I minde to touch, God sparing life and power:
Not hyerd thereto, but hal'de by harts desire
To giue them praise, whose deedes doe fame require.
A season short, no long discourse doth craue:
Tyme rouleth on, I doe but daylight burne,
And many things, in deede to doe I haue.
Looke what great Towne, doth front on Wales this hower,
I minde to touch, God sparing life and power:
Not hyerd thereto, but hal'de by harts desire
To giue them praise, whose deedes doe fame require.
Verte folium.
Of Shrewsebury Churches and the Monuments therein, with a Bridge of stone two bowshot long, and a streate called Colam, being in the Subbarbs, and a fayre Bridge there in like maner: all this was forgotten in the first copie.
I had
such haste, in hope to be but briefe,
That Monuments, in Churches were forgot:
And somewhat more, behind the walles as chiefe,
Where Playes haue bin, which is most worthie note.
There is a ground, newe made Theator wise,
Both deepe and hye, in goodly auncient guise:
Where well may sit, ten thousand men at ease,
And yet the one, the other not displease.
That Monuments, in Churches were forgot:
Where Playes haue bin, which is most worthie note.
There is a ground, newe made Theator wise,
Both deepe and hye, in goodly auncient guise:
Where well may sit, ten thousand men at ease,
And yet the one, the other not displease.
A space belowe, to bayt both Bull and Beare,
For Players too, great roume and place at will.
And in the same, a Cocke pit wondrous feare,
Besides where men, may wrastle in their fill.
A ground most apt, and they that sits aboue,
At once in vewe, all this may see for loue:
At Astons Play, who had beheld this then,
Might well haue seene, there twentie thousand men.
For Players too, great roume and place at will.
And in the same, a Cocke pit wondrous feare,
Besides where men, may wrastle in their fill.
A ground most apt, and they that sits aboue,
At once in vewe, all this may see for loue:
At Astons Play, who had beheld this then,
Might well haue seene, there twentie thousand men.
Fayre Seuarne streame, runs round about this ground,
Saue that one side, is closde with Shrewsebrie wall:
And Seuarne bankes, whose beautie doth abound,
In that same Soyle, behold at will ye shall.
Who comes to marke, and note what may be seene,
Shall surely see, great pleasures on this greene:
Who walkes the bankes, and thinkes his payne not greate,
Shall say the Towne, is sure a princely Seate.
Saue that one side, is closde with Shrewsebrie wall:
And Seuarne bankes, whose beautie doth abound,
In that same Soyle, behold at will ye shall.
Who comes to marke, and note what may be seene,
Shall surely see, great pleasures on this greene:
Who walkes the bankes, and thinkes his payne not greate,
Shall say the Towne, is sure a princely Seate.
Without the walles, as Subbarbs buylded bee,
So doe they stand, as armes and legges to Towne:
Each one a streate, doth answer in degree,
And by some part, comes Seuarne running downe:
As though that streame, had mynd to garde them all,
And as through bridge, this flood doth dayly fall,
So of Freestone, three Bridges bigge there are,
All stately built, a thing full straunge and rare.
So doe they stand, as armes and legges to Towne:
Each one a streate, doth answer in degree,
And by some part, comes Seuarne running downe:
As though that streame, had mynd to garde them all,
And as through bridge, this flood doth dayly fall,
So of Freestone, three Bridges bigge there are,
All stately built, a thing full straunge and rare.
Then iudge by this, and other things a heape,
They had deepe skill, that first the founders were:
Good right they should, the fruite of labour reape,
Whose wit and wealth, did all the charges beare.
O fathers wise, and wits beyond the nicke,
That had the head, the spreetes and sence so quicke:
O golden age, that car'de not what was spent,
So leaden daies, did stand therewith content.
They had deepe skill, that first the founders were:
Whose wit and wealth, did all the charges beare.
O fathers wise, and wits beyond the nicke,
That had the head, the spreetes and sence so quicke:
O golden age, that car'de not what was spent,
So leaden daies, did stand therewith content.
Gold were those yeeres, that sparde such siluer pence,
And brazen world, was that which hoorded all:
The leaden daies, that we haue sauerd since,
Bytes to the bones, and tasteth worse then gall.
What newe things now, with franknesse well begun,
Can staine those deedes, our fathers old haue done:
Great Townes they buylt, great Churches reard likewise,
Which makes our fame, to fall and theirs to rise.
And brazen world, was that which hoorded all:
The leaden daies, that we haue sauerd since,
Bytes to the bones, and tasteth worse then gall.
What newe things now, with franknesse well begun,
Can staine those deedes, our fathers old haue done:
Great Townes they buylt, great Churches reard likewise,
Which makes our fame, to fall and theirs to rise.
Looke on the works, and wits of former age,
And our tyme shall, come dragging farre behind:
If both tymes might, be plainly playd on stage,
And old tyme past, be truely calde to mind,
For all our braue, fine glorious buyldings gay,
Tyme past would run, with all the fame away.
Aske Oxford that, and Cambridge if it please,
In this one poynt, shall you resolue at ease.
And our tyme shall, come dragging farre behind:
If both tymes might, be plainly playd on stage,
And old tyme past, be truely calde to mind,
For all our braue, fine glorious buyldings gay,
Tyme past would run, with all the fame away.
Aske Oxford that, and Cambridge if it please,
In this one poynt, shall you resolue at ease.
In auncient tyme, our elders had desire,
To buyld their Townes, on steepe and stately hill:
To shewe that as, their hearts did still aspyre,
So should their works, declare their worthie will.
And for that then, the world was full of strife,
And fewe men stood, assur'd of land or life:
Such quarrels rose, about great rule and state,
That no one Soyle, was free from foule debate.
To buyld their Townes, on steepe and stately hill:
To shewe that as, their hearts did still aspyre,
So should their works, declare their worthie will.
And for that then, the world was full of strife,
And fewe men stood, assur'd of land or life:
Such quarrels rose, about great rule and state,
That no one Soyle, was free from foule debate.
For which sharpe cause, that dayly bred discord,
They made strong Holds, and Castles of defence:
And such as weare, the Kings the Prince and Lord
Of any place, would spare for no expence,
To see that safe, that they had hardly won:
For which sure poynt, were Forts and Townes begun:
And further loe, if people waxed wyld,
They brought in feare, by this both man an child.
They made strong Holds, and Castles of defence:
Of any place, would spare for no expence,
To see that safe, that they had hardly won:
For which sure poynt, were Forts and Townes begun:
And further loe, if people waxed wyld,
They brought in feare, by this both man an child.
And if men may, iudge who had most ado,
Or gesse by Forts, and Holds what Land was best:
Or looke vpon, our common quarrels to:
Or search what made, men seeke for peace and rest,
Behold but Wales, and note the Castles there,
And you shall finde, no such works any where:
So old so strong, so costly and so hye,
Not vnder Sunne, is to be seene with eye.
Or gesse by Forts, and Holds what Land was best:
Or looke vpon, our common quarrels to:
Or search what made, men seeke for peace and rest,
Behold but Wales, and note the Castles there,
And you shall finde, no such works any where:
So old so strong, so costly and so hye,
Not vnder Sunne, is to be seene with eye.
And to be plaine, so many Holds they haue,
As sure it is, a world to marke them well:
Pause there a while, my muse must pardon craue,
Pen may not long, vpon such matter dwell.
Now Denbigh comes, to be set foorth in verse,
Which shall both Towne, and Castle here rehearse:
So that the verse, such credit may attayne,
As writer shall, not lose no peece of payne.
As sure it is, a world to marke them well:
Pause there a while, my muse must pardon craue,
Pen may not long, vpon such matter dwell.
Now Denbigh comes, to be set foorth in verse,
Which shall both Towne, and Castle here rehearse:
So that the verse, such credit may attayne,
As writer shall, not lose no peece of payne.
An Introduction to bring in Denbighshiere.
Hath
slouth and sleepe, bewitcht my sences so,
That head cannot, awake the ydle hand:
Is frendly muse, become so great a foe,
That labring pen, in pennor still shall stand.
What trifeling toye, doth trouble writers brayne,
That earnest loue, forgets sweete Poets vayne?
Bid welcome mirth, and sad conceytes adue,
And fall againe, to write some matter newe.
That head cannot, awake the ydle hand:
Is frendly muse, become so great a foe,
That labring pen, in pennor still shall stand.
What trifeling toye, doth trouble writers brayne,
That earnest loue, forgets sweete Poets vayne?
And fall againe, to write some matter newe.
Let old deuice, a Lanterne be to this,
To giue skill light, and make sound iudgement see:
Since gazing eyes, hath seene what each thing is,
And that no Towne, nor Soyle is hid from thee:
Set foorth in verse, as well this Countrey here,
As thou at large, hast set out Monmouthshiere:
Praise one alone, the rest will thee disdaine,
A day may come, at length to quite thy paine.
To giue skill light, and make sound iudgement see:
Since gazing eyes, hath seene what each thing is,
And that no Towne, nor Soyle is hid from thee:
Set foorth in verse, as well this Countrey here,
As thou at large, hast set out Monmouthshiere:
Praise one alone, the rest will thee disdaine,
A day may come, at length to quite thy paine.
Though former toyles, be lost in Sommer last,
Dispayre not now, for Wales is thankfull still:
Thou hast gon farre, the greatest brunt is past,
Then forward passe, and plucke not backe goodwill,
Put hand to Plough, like man goe through with all,
Thy ground is good, run on thou canst not fall:
When seede is sowne, and tyme bestowes some paine,
Thou shalt be knowne, a reaper of good graine.
Dispayre not now, for Wales is thankfull still:
Thou hast gon farre, the greatest brunt is past,
Then forward passe, and plucke not backe goodwill,
Put hand to Plough, like man goe through with all,
Thy ground is good, run on thou canst not fall:
When seede is sowne, and tyme bestowes some paine,
Thou shalt be knowne, a reaper of good graine.
Hold on thy course, and trauaile Wales all ore,
And whet thy wits, to marke and note it well:
And thou shalt see, thou neuer saw'st before,
Right goodly things, in deede that doth excell:
More auncient Townes, more famous Castles old,
Then well farre of, with ease thou mayst behold:
With Denbighshiere, thy second worke begin,
And thou shalt see, what glorie thou shalt win.
And whet thy wits, to marke and note it well:
And thou shalt see, thou neuer saw'st before,
Right goodly things, in deede that doth excell:
More auncient Townes, more famous Castles old,
Then well farre of, with ease thou mayst behold:
With Denbighshiere, thy second worke begin,
And thou shalt see, what glorie thou shalt win.
So I tooke horse, and mounted vp in haste,
From Monmouthshiere, along the coasts I ryde:
When frost and snowe, and wayward winters waste,
Did beate from tree, both leaues and Sommers pryde.
I entred first, at Chirke, right ore a Brooke,
Where staying still, on Countrey well to looke.
A Castle fayre, appeerde to sight of eye,
Whose walles were great, and towers both large and hye.
From Monmouthshiere, along the coasts I ryde:
When frost and snowe, and wayward winters waste,
Did beate from tree, both leaues and Sommers pryde.
I entred first, at Chirke, right ore a Brooke,
Where staying still, on Countrey well to looke.
Whose walles were great, and towers both large and hye.
Full vnderneath, the same doth Keeryock run,
A raging Brooke, when rayne or snowe is greate:
It was some Prince, that first this house begun,
It shewes farre of, to be so braue a Seate.
On side of hill, it stands most trim to vewe,
An old strong place, a Castle nothing newe.
A goodly thing, a princely Pallace yet,
If all within, were throughly furnisht fit.
A raging Brooke, when rayne or snowe is greate:
It was some Prince, that first this house begun,
It shewes farre of, to be so braue a Seate.
On side of hill, it stands most trim to vewe,
An old strong place, a Castle nothing newe.
A goodly thing, a princely Pallace yet,
If all within, were throughly furnisht fit.
Beyond the same, there is a Bridge of stone,
That stands on Dee, a Ritter deepe and swift:
It seemes as it, would riue the Rocks alone,
Or vndermyne, with force the craggie Clift.
To Chester runs, this Riuer all along,
With gushing streame, and roring water strong:
On both the sides, are bankes and hilles good store,
And mightie stones, that makes the Riuer rore.
That stands on Dee, a Ritter deepe and swift:
It seemes as it, would riue the Rocks alone,
Or vndermyne, with force the craggie Clift.
To Chester runs, this Riuer all along,
With gushing streame, and roring water strong:
On both the sides, are bankes and hilles good store,
And mightie stones, that makes the Riuer rore.
It flowes with winde, although no rayne there bee,
And swelles like Sea, with waues and foming flood:
A wonder sure, to see this Riuer Dee,
With winde alone, to waxe so wyld and wood,
Make such a sturre, as water would be mad,
And shewe such life, as though some spreete it had.
A cause there is, a nature for the same,
To bring this flood, in such straunge case and frame.
And swelles like Sea, with waues and foming flood:
A wonder sure, to see this Riuer Dee,
With winde alone, to waxe so wyld and wood,
Make such a sturre, as water would be mad,
And shewe such life, as though some spreete it had.
A cause there is, a nature for the same,
To bring this flood, in such straunge case and frame.
Not farre from this, there stands on little mount,
A right fayre Church, with pillars large and wide:
A monument, therein of good account,
Full finely wrought, amid the Queere I spyde,
A Tombe there is, right rich and stately made,
Where two doth lye, in stone and auncient trade.
The man and wife, with sumptuous sollemne guyse,
In this ritch sort, before the Aulter lyes.
A right fayre Church, with pillars large and wide:
A monument, therein of good account,
Full finely wrought, amid the Queere I spyde,
A Tombe there is, right rich and stately made,
Where two doth lye, in stone and auncient trade.
In this ritch sort, before the Aulter lyes.
His head on crest, and warlike Helmet stayes,
A Lyon blew, on top thereof comes out:
On Lyons necke, along his legges he layes,
Two Gauntlets white, are lying there about.
An auncient Squire, he was and of good race,
As by his Armes, appeeres in many a place:
His house and lands, not farre from thence doth shoe,
His birth and blood, was great right long agoe.
A Lyon blew, on top thereof comes out:
On Lyons necke, along his legges he layes,
Two Gauntlets white, are lying there about.
An auncient Squire, he was and of good race,
As by his Armes, appeeres in many a place:
His house and lands, not farre from thence doth shoe,
His birth and blood, was great right long agoe.
The trimmest glasse, that may in windowe bee,
(Wherein the roote, of Iesse well is wrought)
At Aulter head, of Church now shall you see,
Yea all the glasse, of Church was deerely bought.
(Wherein the roote, of Iesse well is wrought)
At Aulter head, of Church now shall you see,
Yea all the glasse, of Church was deerely bought.
Within two myles, there is a famous thing,
Cal'de Offaes Dyke, that reacheth farre in length:
All kind of ware, the Danes might thether bring,
It was free ground, and cal'de the Britaines strength.
Wats Dyke likewise, about the same was set,
Betweene which two, both Danes and Britaines met,
And trafficke still, but passing bounds by sleight,
The one did take, the other prisner streight.
Cal'de Offaes Dyke, that reacheth farre in length:
All kind of ware, the Danes might thether bring,
It was free ground, and cal'de the Britaines strength.
Wats Dyke likewise, about the same was set,
Betweene which two, both Danes and Britaines met,
And trafficke still, but passing bounds by sleight,
The one did take, the other prisner streight.
Thus foes could meete, (as many tymes they may)
And doe no harme, when profite ment they both:
Good rule and lawe, makes baddest things to stay,
That els by rage, to wretched reuell goeth.
The brutest beasts, that sauage are of kynd,
Together comes, as season is assynde:
The angryest men, that can no friendship byde,
Must ceace from warre, when peace appalles their pride.
And doe no harme, when profite ment they both:
Good rule and lawe, makes baddest things to stay,
That els by rage, to wretched reuell goeth.
The brutest beasts, that sauage are of kynd,
Together comes, as season is assynde:
The angryest men, that can no friendship byde,
Must ceace from warre, when peace appalles their pride.
Now let this goe, and call in haste to minde,
Trim Wricksam Towne, a pearle of Denbighshiere:
In whose fayre Church, a Tombe of stone I finde,
Under a wall, right hand on side of Queere.
On th' other side, one Pilson lyes in graue,
Whose hearse of blacke, sayth he a Tombe shall haue:
In Queere lyes Hope, by Armes of gentle race,
Of function once, a rector in that place.
Trim Wricksam Towne, a pearle of Denbighshiere:
In whose fayre Church, a Tombe of stone I finde,
Under a wall, right hand on side of Queere.
On th' other side, one Pilson lyes in graue,
Whose hearse of blacke, sayth he a Tombe shall haue:
In Queere lyes Hope, by Armes of gentle race,
Of function once, a rector in that place.
But speake of Church, and steeple as I ought,
My pen to base, so fayre a worke to touch:
Within and out, they are so finely wrought,
I cannot praise, the workmanship too much.
But buylt of late, not eight score yeeres agoe,
Not of long tyme, the date thereof doth shoe:
No common worke, but sure a worke most fine,
As though they had, bin wrought by power deuine.
My pen to base, so fayre a worke to touch:
Within and out, they are so finely wrought,
I cannot praise, the workmanship too much.
But buylt of late, not eight score yeeres agoe,
Not of long tyme, the date thereof doth shoe:
No common worke, but sure a worke most fine,
As though they had, bin wrought by power deuine.
The steeple there, in forme is full foure square,
Yet euery way, fiue pinnackles appeere:
Trim Pictures fayre, in stone on outside are,
Made all like waxe, as stone were nothing deere.
The height so great, the breadth so bigge withall,
No peece thereof, is likely long to fall,
A worke that stands, to stayne a number more,
In any age, that hath bin buylt before.
Yet euery way, fiue pinnackles appeere:
Trim Pictures fayre, in stone on outside are,
Made all like waxe, as stone were nothing deere.
The height so great, the breadth so bigge withall,
No peece thereof, is likely long to fall,
A worke that stands, to stayne a number more,
In any age, that hath bin buylt before.
A generall Commendation of Gentilitie.
Nere
Wricksam dwels, of Gentlemen good store,
Of calling such, as are right well to liue:
By Market towne, I haue not seene no more,
(In such small roume) that auncient Armes doe giue.
They are the ioye, and gladnesse of the poore,
That dayly feedes, the hungrie at their doore:
In any Soyle, where Gentlemen are found,
Some house is kept, and bountie doth abound.
Of calling such, as are right well to liue:
By Market towne, I haue not seene no more,
(In such small roume) that auncient Armes doe giue.
In Maylor, are all these Gentlemen. Maister Roger Pilsons house at Itchlay. Maister Almmer at Pantyokin. Maister Iohn Pilson of Bersan. Maister Edward Iones of Cadoogan. Maister Iames Eaton of Eatton. Maister Edward Eaton by Ruabon. Maister Owen Brueton of Borras. Maister Iohn Pilson of Haberdewerne. Maister Thomas Powell of Horsley. Maister Iohn Treuar of Treuolin. A generall praise of all Gentlemen inhabiting of any Countrey.
That dayly feedes, the hungrie at their doore:
In any Soyle, where Gentlemen are found,
Some house is kept, and bountie doth abound.
They beautifie, both Towne and Countrey too,
And furnisht are, to serue at neede in feeld:
And euery thing, in rule and order do,
And vnto God, and man due honour yeeld.
They are the strength, and suretie of the Land,
In whose true hearts, doth trust and credit stand,
By whose wise heads, the neighbours ruled are,
In whom the Prince, reposeth greatest care.
And furnisht are, to serue at neede in feeld:
And euery thing, in rule and order do,
And vnto God, and man due honour yeeld.
They are the strength, and suretie of the Land,
In whose true hearts, doth trust and credit stand,
By whose wise heads, the neighbours ruled are,
In whom the Prince, reposeth greatest care.
They are the flowers, of euery garden ground,
For where they want, there growes but wicked weedes:
Their tree and fruite, in rotten world is sownd,
Their noble mynds, will bring foorth faithfull deedes:
Their glorie rests, in Countries wealth and fame,
They haue respect, to blood and auncient name:
They weigh nothing, so much as loyall hart,
Which is most pure, and cleane in euery part.
For where they want, there growes but wicked weedes:
Their tree and fruite, in rotten world is sownd,
Their noble mynds, will bring foorth faithfull deedes:
Their glorie rests, in Countries wealth and fame,
They haue respect, to blood and auncient name:
They weigh nothing, so much as loyall hart,
Which is most pure, and cleane in euery part.
They doe vphold, all ciuill maners myld,
All manly acts, all wise and worthie waies:
If they were not, the Countrey would grow wyld,
And we should soone, forget our elders daies:
Waxe blunt of wit, in speech growe rude and rough,
Want vertue still, and haue of vice enough.
Shewe feeble spreete, lacke courage euery where,
Dout many a thing, and our owne shadowes feare.
All manly acts, all wise and worthie waies:
If they were not, the Countrey would grow wyld,
And we should soone, forget our elders daies:
Waxe blunt of wit, in speech growe rude and rough,
Want vertue still, and haue of vice enough.
Shewe feeble spreete, lacke courage euery where,
Dout many a thing, and our owne shadowes feare.
They dare attempt, for fame and hye renowne,
To scale the Clowdes, if men might clyme the ayre:
Assault the Starres, and plucke the Planets downe,
Giue charge on Moone, and Sunne that shines so fayre.
I meane they dare, attempt the greatest things,
Flye swiftly ore, high Hilles if they had wings:
Beate backe the Seas, and teare the Mountaines too,
Yea what dare not, a man of courage doo.
To scale the Clowdes, if men might clyme the ayre:
Assault the Starres, and plucke the Planets downe,
Giue charge on Moone, and Sunne that shines so fayre.
Flye swiftly ore, high Hilles if they had wings:
Beate backe the Seas, and teare the Mountaines too,
Yea what dare not, a man of courage doo.
Now must I turne, to my discourse agayne,
I Wricksam leaue, and pen out further place:
So if my muse, were now in pleasant vayne,
Holt Castle should, from verse receiue some grace:
The Seate is fine, and trimly buylt about,
With lodgings fayre, and goodly roumes throughout,
Strong Uaults and Caues, and many an old deuice,
That in our daies, are held of worthie price.
I Wricksam leaue, and pen out further place:
So if my muse, were now in pleasant vayne,
Holt Castle should, from verse receiue some grace:
The Seate is fine, and trimly buylt about,
With lodgings fayre, and goodly roumes throughout,
Strong Uaults and Caues, and many an old deuice,
That in our daies, are held of worthie price.
That place must passe, with praise and so adue,
My muse is bent, (and pen is readie prest)
To feede your eares, with other matters newe,
That yet remaines, in head and labouring brest.
A Mountaine towne, that is Thlangothlan calde,
A pretie Seate, but not well buylt nor walde,
Stands in the way, to Yale and Writhen both,
Where are great Hilles, and Plaines but fewe for truth.
My muse is bent, (and pen is readie prest)
To feede your eares, with other matters newe,
That yet remaines, in head and labouring brest.
A Mountaine towne, that is Thlangothlan calde,
A pretie Seate, but not well buylt nor walde,
Stands in the way, to Yale and Writhen both,
Where are great Hilles, and Plaines but fewe for truth.
Of Mountaines now, in deede my muse must runne,
The Poets there, did dwell as fables fayne:
Because some say, they would be neere the Sunne,
And taste sometymes, the frost, the cold, and rayne,
To iudge of both, which is the chiefe and best.
Who knowes no toyle, can neuer skill of rest,
Who alwaies walkes, on carpet soft and gay,
Knowes not hard Hilles, nor likes the Mountaine way.
The Poets there, did dwell as fables fayne:
Because some say, they would be neere the Sunne,
And taste sometymes, the frost, the cold, and rayne,
To iudge of both, which is the chiefe and best.
Who knowes no toyle, can neuer skill of rest,
Who alwaies walkes, on carpet soft and gay,
Knowes not hard Hilles, nor likes the Mountaine way.
A discourse of Mountaynes.
Dame
Nature drew, these Mountaynes in such sort,
As though the one, should yeeld the other grace:
Or as each Hill, it selfe were such a Fort,
They scornde to stoope, to giue the Cannon place.
If all were playne, and smooth like garden ground,
Where should hye woods, and goodly groues be found?
The eyes delight, that lookes on euery coast,
With pleasures great, and fayre prospect were lost.
As though the one, should yeeld the other grace:
They scornde to stoope, to giue the Cannon place.
If all were playne, and smooth like garden ground,
Where should hye woods, and goodly groues be found?
The eyes delight, that lookes on euery coast,
With pleasures great, and fayre prospect were lost.
On Hill we vewe, farre of both feeld and flood,
Feele heate or cold, and so sucke vp sweete ayre:
Behold beneath, great wealth and worldly good,
See walled Townes, and looke on Countries fayre,
And who so sits, or stands on Mountayne hye,
Hath halfe a world, in compasse of his eye:
A platforme made, of Nature for the nonce,
Where man may looke, on all the earth at once.
Feele heate or cold, and so sucke vp sweete ayre:
Behold beneath, great wealth and worldly good,
See walled Townes, and looke on Countries fayre,
And who so sits, or stands on Mountayne hye,
Hath halfe a world, in compasse of his eye:
A platforme made, of Nature for the nonce,
Where man may looke, on all the earth at once.
These ragged Rocks, brings playnest people foorth,
On Mountaine wyld, the hardest Horse is bred:
Though grasse thereon, be grosse and little worth,
Sweete is the foode, where hunger so is fed.
On rootes and hearbs, our fathers long did feede,
And neere the Skye, growes sweetest fruit in deede:
On marrish meares, and watrie mossie ground,
Are rotten weedes, and rubbish drosse vnsound.
On Mountaine wyld, the hardest Horse is bred:
Though grasse thereon, be grosse and little worth,
Sweete is the foode, where hunger so is fed.
On rootes and hearbs, our fathers long did feede,
And neere the Skye, growes sweetest fruit in deede:
On marrish meares, and watrie mossie ground,
Are rotten weedes, and rubbish drosse vnsound.
The fogges and mists, that rise from vale belowe,
A reason makes, that highest Hilles are best:
And when such fogges, doth ore the Mountayne goe,
In foulest daies, fayre weather may be gest.
As bitter blasts, on Mountaynes bigge doth blowe,
So noysome smels, and sauours breede belowe:
The Hill stands cleere, and cleane from filthie smell,
They finde not so, that doth in Ualley dwell.
A reason makes, that highest Hilles are best:
And when such fogges, doth ore the Mountayne goe,
In foulest daies, fayre weather may be gest.
As bitter blasts, on Mountaynes bigge doth blowe,
So noysome smels, and sauours breede belowe:
The Hill stands cleere, and cleane from filthie smell,
They finde not so, that doth in Ualley dwell.
The Mountayne men, liue longer many a yeere,
Then those in Uale, in playne or marrish soyle:
A lustie hart, a cleane complexion cleere
They haue on Hill, that for hard liuing toyle.
With Ewe and Lambe, with Goates and Kids they play,
In greatest toyles, to rub out wearie day:
And when to house, and home good fellowes drawe,
The lads can laugh, at turning of a strawe.
Then those in Uale, in playne or marrish soyle:
They haue on Hill, that for hard liuing toyle.
With Ewe and Lambe, with Goates and Kids they play,
In greatest toyles, to rub out wearie day:
And when to house, and home good fellowes drawe,
The lads can laugh, at turning of a strawe.
No ayre so pure, and wholesome as the Hill,
Both man and beast, delights to be thereon:
In heate or cold, it keepes one nature still,
Trim neate and drye, and gay to go vpon.
A place most fit, for pastime and good sport,
To which wyld Stagge, and Bucke doth still resort:
To crye of Hounds, the Mountayne ecco yeelds,
A grace to Uale, a beautie to the feelds.
Both man and beast, delights to be thereon:
In heate or cold, it keepes one nature still,
Trim neate and drye, and gay to go vpon.
A place most fit, for pastime and good sport,
To which wyld Stagge, and Bucke doth still resort:
To crye of Hounds, the Mountayne ecco yeelds,
A grace to Uale, a beautie to the feelds.
It stands for world, as though a watch it were,
A stately gard, to keepe greene meddowe myld:
The Poets fayne, on shoulders it doth beare
The Heauens hye, but there they are beguyld.
The maker first, of Mountayne and of Uale,
Made Hill a wall, to clip about the Dale:
A strong defence, for needfull fruit and Corne,
That els by blast, might quickly be forlorne.
A stately gard, to keepe greene meddowe myld:
The Poets fayne, on shoulders it doth beare
The Heauens hye, but there they are beguyld.
The maker first, of Mountayne and of Uale,
Made Hill a wall, to clip about the Dale:
A strong defence, for needfull fruit and Corne,
That els by blast, might quickly be forlorne.
If boystrous wynds, were not withstood by strength,
Repulst by force, and driuen backward too,
They would destroy, our earthly ioyes at length,
And through their rage, they would much mischiefe doo.
God sawe what smart, and griefe the earth would byde
By sturdie stormes, and pearcing tempests pryde:
So Mountaynes made, to saue the lower soyle,
For feare the earth, should suffer shamefull spoyle.
Repulst by force, and driuen backward too,
They would destroy, our earthly ioyes at length,
And through their rage, they would much mischiefe doo.
God sawe what smart, and griefe the earth would byde
By sturdie stormes, and pearcing tempests pryde:
So Mountaynes made, to saue the lower soyle,
For feare the earth, should suffer shamefull spoyle.
How could weake leaues, and blossomes hang on tree,
If boystring wynds, should braunches dayly beate:
How could poore soules, in Cottage quiet bee,
If higher grounds, did not defend their seate.
Who buylds his bower, right vnder foote of hill,
Hath little cold, and weather warme at will:
Thus proue I here, the Mountaine frendeth all,
Stands stiffe gaynst stormes, like steele or brazen wall.
If boystring wynds, should braunches dayly beate:
If higher grounds, did not defend their seate.
Who buylds his bower, right vnder foote of hill,
Hath little cold, and weather warme at will:
Thus proue I here, the Mountaine frendeth all,
Stands stiffe gaynst stormes, like steele or brazen wall.
You may compare, a King to Mountayne hye,
Whose princely power, can byde both bront and shocke
Of bitter blast, or Thunderbolt from Skye,
His Fortresse stands, vpon so firme a Rocke.
A Prince helps all, and doth so strongly sit,
That none can harme, by fraude, by force nor wit.
The weake must leane, where strength doth most remayne,
The Mountayne great, commaunds the little Playne.
Whose princely power, can byde both bront and shocke
Of bitter blast, or Thunderbolt from Skye,
His Fortresse stands, vpon so firme a Rocke.
A Prince helps all, and doth so strongly sit,
That none can harme, by fraude, by force nor wit.
The weake must leane, where strength doth most remayne,
The Mountayne great, commaunds the little Playne.
As Mountayne is, a noble stately thing,
Thrust full of stones, and Rocks as hard as steele:
A peereles peece, comparde vnto a King,
Who sits full fast, on top of Fortunes wheele:
So is the Dale, a place of suttle ayre,
A den of drosse, oft tymes more foule then fayre:
A durtie Soyle, where water long doth hyde,
Yet ritch withall, it cannot be denyde.
Thrust full of stones, and Rocks as hard as steele:
A peereles peece, comparde vnto a King,
Who sits full fast, on top of Fortunes wheele:
So is the Dale, a place of suttle ayre,
A den of drosse, oft tymes more foule then fayre:
A durtie Soyle, where water long doth hyde,
Yet ritch withall, it cannot be denyde.
But wealth mars wit, and weares out vertue cleane,
An eating worme, a Cancker past recure:
A trebble loude, but not a merrie meane,
That Musick makes, but rather iarres procure:
A stirrer vp, of strife and leaud debate,
The ground of warre, that stayneth euery state
With giftes and bribes, that greedie glutton feedes
And filles the gut, whereon great treason breedes.
An eating worme, a Cancker past recure:
A trebble loude, but not a merrie meane,
That Musick makes, but rather iarres procure:
A stirrer vp, of strife and leaud debate,
The ground of warre, that stayneth euery state
With giftes and bribes, that greedie glutton feedes
And filles the gut, whereon great treason breedes.
Wealth fosters pride, and heaues vp haughtie hart,
Makes wit oreweene, and man beleeue to farre:
Enfects the mynd, with vice in euery part,
That quickly sets, the sences all at warre.
In Ualley ritch, these mischiefes nourisht are,
God planted peace, on Mountayne poore and bare:
By sweat of browes, the people liues on Hill,
Not sleight of brayne, ne craft nor cunning skill.
Makes wit oreweene, and man beleeue to farre:
That quickly sets, the sences all at warre.
In Ualley ritch, these mischiefes nourisht are,
God planted peace, on Mountayne poore and bare:
By sweat of browes, the people liues on Hill,
Not sleight of brayne, ne craft nor cunning skill.
Where dwels disdayne, discord or dubble waies,
But where ritch Cubs, and currish Karles are found?
Where is more loue, who hath more happie daies,
Then those poore hynds, that digges and delues the ground.
Perhaps you say, so hard the Rocks may bee,
Ne Corne nor grasse, nor plough thereon you see:
Yet loe the Lord, such blessing there doth giue,
That sweet content, with Oten Cakes can liue.
But where ritch Cubs, and currish Karles are found?
Where is more loue, who hath more happie daies,
Then those poore hynds, that digges and delues the ground.
Perhaps you say, so hard the Rocks may bee,
Ne Corne nor grasse, nor plough thereon you see:
Yet loe the Lord, such blessing there doth giue,
That sweet content, with Oten Cakes can liue.
Sowre Whey and Curds, can yeeld a sugred tast,
Where sweete Martchpane, as yet was neuer knowne:
When emptie gorge, hath bole of Milke embrast,
And Cheese and bread, hath dayly of his owne,
He craues no feast, nor seekes no banquets fine,
He can disgest, his dinner without wine:
So toyles out life, and likes full well this trade,
Not fearing death, because his count is made.
Where sweete Martchpane, as yet was neuer knowne:
When emptie gorge, hath bole of Milke embrast,
And Cheese and bread, hath dayly of his owne,
He craues no feast, nor seekes no banquets fine,
He can disgest, his dinner without wine:
So toyles out life, and likes full well this trade,
Not fearing death, because his count is made.
Who sleepes so sound, as he that hath no Sheepe,
Nor heard of Beasts, to pastor and to feede?
Who feares the Woolfe, but he who Lambes doth keepe,
And many an hower, is forst to watch in deede.
Though gold be gay, and cordyall in his kynd,
The losse of wealth, grypes long a greedie mynd.
Poore Mountayne folke, possesse not such great store,
But when its gon, they care not much therefore.
Nor heard of Beasts, to pastor and to feede?
Who feares the Woolfe, but he who Lambes doth keepe,
And many an hower, is forst to watch in deede.
Though gold be gay, and cordyall in his kynd,
The losse of wealth, grypes long a greedie mynd.
Poore Mountayne folke, possesse not such great store,
But when its gon, they care not much therefore.
Of Yale a little to be spoken of.
The names of the Riuers of Denbighshire. Keerlock parts Shropshere & Dēbighshere, before Chirk. Dee at newe Bridge, and Thlangothlen. Aleyn in the valley of Yale. Clanweddock in the fayre vale of Dufrin Cloyd. Cloyd receiues Clan weddock and Elwye by Saint Asse. I strade by Denbigh. Rathad comes to the Vorney . Keynthleth comes into Rayhad.
Small Ualleys there, saue where the Brookes do ron:
So many Springs, that sield that soyle is drye:
Good Turffe and Peate, on mossie ground is won,
Wherewith good fires, is made for man most meete,
That burneth cleere, and yeelds a sauour sweete
To those which haue, no nose for dayntie smell,
The finer sort, were best in Court to dwell.
This Soyle is cold, and subiect vnto winde,
Hard duskie Rocks, all couered ore full dim:
Where if winde blowe, ye shall foule weather finde,
And thinke you feele, the bitter blasts full brim.
But though cold bytes, the face and outward skin,
The stomacke foe, is thereby warm'd within.
For still more meate, the Mountayne men disgest,
Then in the playne, you finde among the best.
Hard duskie Rocks, all couered ore full dim:
Where if winde blowe, ye shall foule weather finde,
And thinke you feele, the bitter blasts full brim.
But though cold bytes, the face and outward skin,
The stomacke foe, is thereby warm'd within.
For still more meate, the Mountayne men disgest,
Then in the playne, you finde among the best.
Here is hard waies, as earth and Mountayne yeelds,
Some softnesse too, as tract of foote hath made:
But to the Dames, for walke no pleasant feelds,
Nor no great woods, to shroud them in the shade.
Yet Sheepe and Goates, are plentie here in place,
And good welsh Nagges, that are of kindest race:
With goodly nowt, both fat and bigge with bone,
That on hard Rocks, and Mountayne feedes alone.
Some softnesse too, as tract of foote hath made:
But to the Dames, for walke no pleasant feelds,
Nor no great woods, to shroud them in the shade.
Yet Sheepe and Goates, are plentie here in place,
And good welsh Nagges, that are of kindest race:
With goodly nowt, both fat and bigge with bone,
That on hard Rocks, and Mountayne feedes alone.
Of Wrythen now, I treate as reason is,
But lisence craue, to talke on such a Seate:
Excuse my skill, where pen or muse doth mis,
Where knowledge fayles, the cunning is not great.
But ere I write, a verse vpon that Soyle,
I will crye out, of Tyme that all doth spoyle:
As age weares youth, and youth giues age the place,
So Tyme weares world, and doth old works disgrace.
But lisence craue, to talke on such a Seate:
Excuse my skill, where pen or muse doth mis,
Where knowledge fayles, the cunning is not great.
I will crye out, of Tyme that all doth spoyle:
As age weares youth, and youth giues age the place,
So Tyme weares world, and doth old works disgrace.
A discourse of Tyme.
O Tract
of Tyme, that all consumes to dust,
We hold thee not, for thou art bald behinde:
The fayrest Sword, or mettall thou wilt rust,
And brightest things, bring quickly out of minde.
The trimmest Towers, and Castles great and gay,
In processe long, at length thou doest decay:
The brauest house, and princely buildings rare,
Thou wasts and weares, and leaues the walles but bare.
We hold thee not, for thou art bald behinde:
The fayrest Sword, or mettall thou wilt rust,
And brightest things, bring quickly out of minde.
The trimmest Towers, and Castles great and gay,
In processe long, at length thou doest decay:
The brauest house, and princely buildings rare,
Thou wasts and weares, and leaues the walles but bare.
O Cancker vyle, that creepes in hardest mold,
The Marble stone, or Flint thy force shall feele:
Thou hast a power, to pearce and eate the gold,
Fling downe the strong, and make the stout to reele.
O wasting worme, that eates sweete kernels all,
And makes the Nut, to dust and powder fall:
O glutton great, that feedes on each mans store,
And yet thy selfe, no better art therefore.
The Marble stone, or Flint thy force shall feele:
Thou hast a power, to pearce and eate the gold,
Fling downe the strong, and make the stout to reele.
O wasting worme, that eates sweete kernels all,
And makes the Nut, to dust and powder fall:
O glutton great, that feedes on each mans store,
And yet thy selfe, no better art therefore.
Tyme all consumes, and helps it selfe no whit,
As fire by flame, burnes coales to sinders small:
Tyme steales in man, much like an Agew fit,
That weares the face, the flesh the skinne and all.
O wretched rust, that wilt not scoured bee,
O dreadfull Tyme, the world is feard of thee:
Thou flingest flat, the highest Tree that growes,
And tryumph makes, on pompe and paynted showes.
As fire by flame, burnes coales to sinders small:
Tyme steales in man, much like an Agew fit,
That weares the face, the flesh the skinne and all.
O wretched rust, that wilt not scoured bee,
O dreadfull Tyme, the world is feard of thee:
Thou flingest flat, the highest Tree that growes,
And tryumph makes, on pompe and paynted showes.
But most of all, my muse doth blame thee now,
For throwing downe, a rare and goodly Seate:
By Wrythen Towne, a noble Castle throwe,
That in tyme past, had many a lodging greate,
And Towers most fayre, that long a buylding was,
Where now God wot, there growes nothing but grasse:
The stones lye waste, the walles seemes but a shell
Of little worth, where once a Prince might dwell.
For throwing downe, a rare and goodly Seate:
That in tyme past, had many a lodging greate,
And Towers most fayre, that long a buylding was,
Where now God wot, there growes nothing but grasse:
The stones lye waste, the walles seemes but a shell
Of little worth, where once a Prince might dwell.
Of Wrythen, both the Castle and the Towne.
This
Castle stands, on Rocke much like red Bricke,
The Dykes are cut, with toole through stonie Cragge:
The Towers are hye, the walles are large and thicke,
The worke it selfe, would shake a Subiects bagge,
If he were bent, to buyld the like agayne:
It rests on mount, and lookes ore wood and Playne:
It had great store, of Chambers finely wrought,
That tyme alone, to great decay hath brought.
The Dykes are cut, with toole through stonie Cragge:
The Towers are hye, the walles are large and thicke,
The worke it selfe, would shake a Subiects bagge,
If he were bent, to buyld the like agayne:
It rests on mount, and lookes ore wood and Playne:
It had great store, of Chambers finely wrought,
That tyme alone, to great decay hath brought.
It shewes within, by dubble walles and waies,
A deepe deuice, did first erect the same:
It makes our world, to thinke on elders daies,
Because the worke, was formde in such a frame.
One tower or wall, the other answers right,
As though at call, each thing should please the sight:
The Rocke wrought round, where euery tower doth stand,
Set foorth full fine, by head by hart and hand.
A deepe deuice, did first erect the same:
It makes our world, to thinke on elders daies,
Because the worke, was formde in such a frame.
One tower or wall, the other answers right,
As though at call, each thing should please the sight:
The Rocke wrought round, where euery tower doth stand,
Set foorth full fine, by head by hart and hand.
And fast hard by, runnes Cloyd a Riuer swift,
In winter tyme, that swelles and spreads the feeld:
That water sure, hath such a secret gift,
And such rare Fish, in season due doth yeeld,
As is most straunge: let men of knowledge now
Of such hid cause, search out the nature throwe:
In winter tyme, that swelles and spreads the feeld:
That water sure, hath such a secret gift,
And such rare Fish, in season due doth yeeld,
As is most straunge: let men of knowledge now
Of such hid cause, search out the nature throwe:
A Poole there is, through which this Cloyd doth passe,
Where is a Fish, that some a Whiting call:
Where neuer yet, no Sammon taken was,
Yet hath good store, of other Fishes all
Aboue that Poole, and so beneath that flood
Are Sammons caught, and many a Fish full good:
But in the same, there will no Sammon bee,
And neere that Poole, you shall no Whiting see.
Where is a Fish, that some a Whiting call:
Where neuer yet, no Sammon taken was,
Yet hath good store, of other Fishes all
Aboue that Poole, and so beneath that flood
Are Sammons caught, and many a Fish full good:
But in the same, there will no Sammon bee,
And neere that Poole, you shall no Whiting see.
I haue left out, a Riuer and a Uale,
And both of them, are fayre and worthie note:
Who will them seeke, shall finde them still in Yale,
They beare such fame, they may not be forgot.
The Riuer runnes, a myle right vnder ground,
And where it springs, the issue doth abound:
And into Dee, this water doth dissend,
So loseth name, and therein makes an end.
And both of them, are fayre and worthie note:
Who will them seeke, shall finde them still in Yale,
They beare such fame, they may not be forgot.
The Riuer runnes, a myle right vnder ground,
And where it springs, the issue doth abound:
And into Dee, this water doth dissend,
So loseth name, and therein makes an end.
Good ground likewise, this Ualley seemes to bee,
And many a man, of wealth is dwelling there:
On Mountayne top, the Ualley shall you see
All ouer greene, with goodly Meddowes feare.
This Ualley hath, a noble neighbour neere,
Wherein the Towne, of Wrythen doth appeere:
Which Towne stands well, and wants no pleasant ayre,
The noble Soyle, and Countrey is so fayre.
And many a man, of wealth is dwelling there:
On Mountayne top, the Ualley shall you see
All ouer greene, with goodly Meddowes feare.
This Ualley hath, a noble neighbour neere,
Wherein the Towne, of Wrythen doth appeere:
Which Towne stands well, and wants no pleasant ayre,
The noble Soyle, and Countrey is so fayre.
A Church there is, in Wrythen at this day,
Wherein Lord Gray, that once was Earle of Kent,
In Tombe of stone, amid the Chauncell lay:
But since remou'd, as worldly matters went,
And in a wall, so layd as now he lyes
Right hand of Queere, full playne before your eyes:
An Anckres too, that nere that wall did dwell,
With trim wrought worke, in wall is buryed well.
Wherein Lord Gray, that once was Earle of Kent,
In Tombe of stone, amid the Chauncell lay:
But since remou'd, as worldly matters went,
And in a wall, so layd as now he lyes
Right hand of Queere, full playne before your eyes:
An Anckres too, that nere that wall did dwell,
With trim wrought worke, in wall is buryed well.
Now to the Uale, of worthie Dyffrin Cloyd,
My muse must passe, a Soyle most ritch and gay:
This noble Seate, that neuer noue anoyd,
That sawe the same, and rode or went that way:
The vewe thereof, so much contents the mynd,
The ayre therein, so wholesome and so kynd:
The beautie such, the breadth and length likewise,
Makes glad the hart, and pleaseth each mans eyes.
My muse must passe, a Soyle most ritch and gay:
This noble Seate, that neuer noue anoyd,
That sawe the same, and rode or went that way:
The vewe thereof, so much contents the mynd,
The ayre therein, so wholesome and so kynd:
The beautie such, the breadth and length likewise,
Makes glad the hart, and pleaseth each mans eyes.
This Uale doth reach, so farre in vewe of man,
As he farre of, may see the Seas in deede:
And who a while, for pleasure trauayle can
Throughout this Uale, and thereof take good heede,
He shall delight, to see a Soyle so fine,
For ground and grasse, a passing plot deuine.
And if the troth, thereof a man may tell,
This Uale alone, doth all the rest excell.
As he farre of, may see the Seas in deede:
And who a while, for pleasure trauayle can
Throughout this Uale, and thereof take good heede,
He shall delight, to see a Soyle so fine,
For ground and grasse, a passing plot deuine.
And if the troth, thereof a man may tell,
This Uale alone, doth all the rest excell.
As it belowe, a wondrous beautie showes,
The Hilles aboue, doth grace it trebble fold:
On euery side, as farre as Ualley goes,
A border bigge, of Hilles ye shall behold:
They keepe the Uale, in such a quiet sort,
That birds and beasts, for succour there resort:
Yea flocks of foule, and heards of beasts sometyme,
Drawes there from storme, when tempests are in pryme.
The Hilles aboue, doth grace it trebble fold:
On euery side, as farre as Ualley goes,
A border bigge, of Hilles ye shall behold:
They keepe the Uale, in such a quiet sort,
That birds and beasts, for succour there resort:
Yea flocks of foule, and heards of beasts sometyme,
Drawes there from storme, when tempests are in pryme.
There Riuers run, amid the bottome heere,
Istrade, and Cloyd, Clanweddock (loe) the third:
The noyse of streames, in Sommer morning cleere,
The chirp and charme, and chaunt of euery bird
That passeth there, a second Heauen is:
No hellish sound, more like an earthly blis:
A Musick sweete, that through our eares shall creepe,
By secret arte, and lull a man a sleepe.
Istrade, and Cloyd, Clanweddock (loe) the third:
The noyse of streames, in Sommer morning cleere,
The chirp and charme, and chaunt of euery bird
That passeth there, a second Heauen is:
No hellish sound, more like an earthly blis:
A Musick sweete, that through our eares shall creepe,
By secret arte, and lull a man a sleepe.
The Castle of Cargoorley in Denbighshiere
Cargoorley comes, right now to passe my pen,
With ragged walles, yea all to rent and torne:
As though it has, bin neuer knowne to men,
Or carelesse left, as wretched thing forlorne:
Like begger bare, as naked as my nayle,
It lyes along, whose wracke doth none bewayle.
But if she knewe, to whom it doth pertayne,
What royalties, and honors doth remayne
Unto that Seate, it should repayred bee,
For further cause, then common people see.
With ragged walles, yea all to rent and torne:
As though it has, bin neuer knowne to men,
Or carelesse left, as wretched thing forlorne:
Like begger bare, as naked as my nayle,
It lyes along, whose wracke doth none bewayle.
But if she knewe, to whom it doth pertayne,
What royalties, and honors doth remayne
Unto that Seate, it should repayred bee,
For further cause, then common people see.
But sondrie things, that are full farre from sight,
Are out of mynd, and cleane forgot in fine:
So such as haue, thereto but little right,
Possesse the same, by leauell and by line,
Or els by hap, or suite as often falles:
But what of that, Cargoorleys rotten walles
Can neuer bring, his betters in dispute,
That hath perchaunce, bin got by hap or sute:
So rest good muse, and speake no further heere,
Least by these words, some hidden thoughts appeere.
Are out of mynd, and cleane forgot in fine:
So such as haue, thereto but little right,
Possesse the same, by leauell and by line,
Or els by hap, or suite as often falles:
But what of that, Cargoorleys rotten walles
Can neuer bring, his betters in dispute,
That hath perchaunce, bin got by hap or sute:
So rest good muse, and speake no further heere,
Least by these words, some hidden thoughts appeere.
Kings giue and take, so tyme still rouleth on,
Good Subiects serue, for somewhat more or lesse:
And when we see, our fathers old are gon,
Of tyme to come, we haue a greater gesse.
First how to gayne, by present tyme and state,
Then what may fall, by futer tyme and date:
Tyme past growes cold, and so the world lukewarme
Doth helpe it selfe, by Castle, house or Farme:
That reach is good, that rule my frends God send,
Which well begin, and makes a vertuous end.
Good Subiects serue, for somewhat more or lesse:
And when we see, our fathers old are gon,
Of tyme to come, we haue a greater gesse.
First how to gayne, by present tyme and state,
Then what may fall, by futer tyme and date:
Tyme past growes cold, and so the world lukewarme
Doth helpe it selfe, by Castle, house or Farme:
That reach is good, that rule my frends God send,
Which well begin, and makes a vertuous end.
O Denbigh now, appeare thy turne is next,
I neede no glose, nor shade to set thee out:
For if my pen, doe followe playnest text,
And passe next way, and goe nothing about,
Thou shalt be knowne, as worthie well thou art,
The noblest Soyle, that is in any part:
And for thy Seate, and Castle doe compare,
With any one, of Wales what ere they are.
I neede no glose, nor shade to set thee out:
For if my pen, doe followe playnest text,
And passe next way, and goe nothing about,
Thou shalt be knowne, as worthie well thou art,
The noblest Soyle, that is in any part:
And for thy Seate, and Castle doe compare,
With any one, of Wales what ere they are.
This Castle stands, on top of Rocke most hye,
A mightie Cragge, as hard as flint or steele:
A massie mount, whose stones so deepe doth lye,
That no deuice, may well the bottome feele.
The Rocke discends, beneath the auncient Towne,
About the which, a stately wall goes downe,
With buyldings great, and posternes to the same,
That goes through Rocke, to giue it greater fame.
A mightie Cragge, as hard as flint or steele:
A massie mount, whose stones so deepe doth lye,
That no deuice, may well the bottome feele.
The Rocke discends, beneath the auncient Towne,
About the which, a stately wall goes downe,
With buyldings great, and posternes to the same,
That goes through Rocke, to giue it greater fame.
I want good words, and reasons apt therefore,
It selfe shall shewe, the substance of my tale:
But yet my pen, must tell here somewhat more,
Of Castles praise, as I haue spoke of Uale.
A strength of state, ten tymes as strong as fayre,
Yet fayre and fine, with dubble walles full thicke,
Like tarres trim, to take the open ayre,
Made of Freestone, and not of burned Bricke:
No buylding there, but such as man might say,
The worke thereof, would last till Iudgement day.
It selfe shall shewe, the substance of my tale:
But yet my pen, must tell here somewhat more,
Of Castles praise, as I haue spoke of Uale.
A strength of state, ten tymes as strong as fayre,
Yet fayre and fine, with dubble walles full thicke,
Like tarres trim, to take the open ayre,
Made of Freestone, and not of burned Bricke:
No buylding there, but such as man might say,
The worke thereof, would last till Iudgement day.
The Seate so sure, not subiect to a Hill,
Nor yet to Myne, nor force of Cannon blast:
Within that house, may people walke at will,
And stand full safe, till daunger all be past.
If Cannon rorde, or barkt against the wall,
Frends there may say, a figge for enemies all:
Fiue men within, may keepe out numbers greate,
(In furious sort) that shall approach that Seate.
Nor yet to Myne, nor force of Cannon blast:
Within that house, may people walke at will,
And stand full safe, till daunger all be past.
If Cannon rorde, or barkt against the wall,
Frends there may say, a figge for enemies all:
Fiue men within, may keepe out numbers greate,
(In furious sort) that shall approach that Seate.
Who stands on Rocke, and lookes right downe alone,
Shall thinke belowe, a man is but a child:
I sought my selfe, from top to fling a stone
With full mayne force, and yet I was beguyld.
If such a height, the mightie Rocke be than,
Ne force nor sleight, nor stout attempt of man,
Can win the Fort, if house be furnisht throw,
The troth whereof, let world be witnesse now.
Shall thinke belowe, a man is but a child:
I sought my selfe, from top to fling a stone
With full mayne force, and yet I was beguyld.
If such a height, the mightie Rocke be than,
Ne force nor sleight, nor stout attempt of man,
Can win the Fort, if house be furnisht throw,
The troth whereof, let world be witnesse now.
It is great payne, from foote of Rocke to clyme
To Castle wall, and it is greater toyle
On Rocke to goe, yea any step sometyme
Uprightly yet, without a faule or foyle.
And as this Seate, and Castle strongly stands,
Past winning sure, with engin sword or hands:
So lookes it ore, the Countrey farre or neere,
And shines like Torch, and Lanterne of the Sheere.
To Castle wall, and it is greater toyle
On Rocke to goe, yea any step sometyme
Uprightly yet, without a faule or foyle.
And as this Seate, and Castle strongly stands,
Past winning sure, with engin sword or hands:
So lookes it ore, the Countrey farre or neere,
And shines like Torch, and Lanterne of the Sheere.
Wherefore Denbigh, thou bearst away the praise,
Denbigh hath got, the garland of our daies:
Denbigh reapes fame, and lawde a thousand waies,
Denbigh my pen, vnto the Clowdes shall raise.
The Castle there, could I in order drawe,
It should surmount, now all that ere I sawe.
Denbigh hath got, the garland of our daies:
Denbigh reapes fame, and lawde a thousand waies,
Denbigh my pen, vnto the Clowdes shall raise.
The Castle there, could I in order drawe,
It should surmount, now all that ere I sawe.
Of Valey Crucis Thlangothlan, and the Castle Dynosebrane.
The
great desire, to see Denbigh at full,
Did drawe my muse, from other matter true:
But as that sight, my mynd away did pull
From former things, I should present to you.
So duetie bids, a writer to be playne,
And things left out, to call to mynd agayne:
Thlangothlan then, must yet come once in place,
For diuers notes, that giues this booke some grace.
Did drawe my muse, from other matter true:
But as that sight, my mynd away did pull
From former things, I should present to you.
So duetie bids, a writer to be playne,
And things left out, to call to mynd agayne:
Thlangothlan then, must yet come once in place,
For diuers notes, that giues this booke some grace.
An Abbey nere, that Mountayne towne there is,
Whose walles yet stand, and steeple too likewise:
But who that rides, to see the troth of this,
Shall thinke he mounts, on hilles vnto the Skyes.
For when one hill, behind your backe you see,
Another comes, two tymes as hye as hee:
And in one place, the Mountaynes stands so there,
In roundnesse such, as it a Cockpit were.
Whose walles yet stand, and steeple too likewise:
But who that rides, to see the troth of this,
Shall thinke he mounts, on hilles vnto the Skyes.
For when one hill, behind your backe you see,
Another comes, two tymes as hye as hee:
And in one place, the Mountaynes stands so there,
In roundnesse such, as it a Cockpit were.
Their height is great, and full of narrowe waies,
And steepe downe right, of force ye must descend:
Some houses are, buylt there but of late daies,
Full vnderneath, the monstrous Mountaynes end:
Amid them all, and those as man may gesse,
When rayne doth fall, doth stand in sore distresse:
For mightie streames, runnes ore both house and thatch,
When for their liues, poore men on Hilles must watch.
And steepe downe right, of force ye must descend:
Some houses are, buylt there but of late daies,
Full vnderneath, the monstrous Mountaynes end:
Amid them all, and those as man may gesse,
When rayne doth fall, doth stand in sore distresse:
For mightie streames, runnes ore both house and thatch,
When for their liues, poore men on Hilles must watch.
Beyond the same, and yet on Hill full hye,
A Castle stands, an old and ruynous thing:
That haughtie house, was buylt in weathers eye,
A pretie pyle, and pleasure for a King.
A Fort, a Strength, a strong and stately Hold
It was at first, though now it is full old:
On Rocke alone, full farre from other Mount
It stands, which shewes, it was of great account.
A Castle stands, an old and ruynous thing:
That haughtie house, was buylt in weathers eye,
A pretie pyle, and pleasure for a King.
A Fort, a Strength, a strong and stately Hold
It was at first, though now it is full old:
On Rocke alone, full farre from other Mount
It stands, which shewes, it was of great account.
Betweene the Towne, and Abbey built it was,
The Towne is neere, the goodly Riuer Dee,
That vnderneath, a Bridge of stone doth passe,
And still on Rocke, the water runnes you see
A wondrous way, a thing full rare and straunge,
That Rocke cannot, the course of water chaunge:
For in the streame, huge stones and Rocks remayne,
That backward might, the flood of force constrayne.
The Towne is neere, the goodly Riuer Dee,
That vnderneath, a Bridge of stone doth passe,
And still on Rocke, the water runnes you see
A wondrous way, a thing full rare and straunge,
That Rocke cannot, the course of water chaunge:
For in the streame, huge stones and Rocks remayne,
That backward might, the flood of force constrayne.
From thence to Chirke, are Mountaynes all a rowe,
As though in ranke, and battaile Mountaynes stood:
And ouer them, the bitter winde doth blowe,
And whirles betwixt, the valley and the wood.
Chirke is a place, that parts another Sheere,
And as by Trench, and Mount doth well appeere:
It kept those bounds, from forrayne force and power,
That men might sleepe, in suretie euery hower.
As though in ranke, and battaile Mountaynes stood:
And ouer them, the bitter winde doth blowe,
And whirles betwixt, the valley and the wood.
Chirke is a place, that parts another Sheere,
And as by Trench, and Mount doth well appeere:
It kept those bounds, from forrayne force and power,
That men might sleepe, in suretie euery hower.
Here Denbighshiere, departs from writers pen,
And Flintshiere now, comes brauely marching in,
With Castles fine, with proper Townes and men,
Whereof in verse, my matter must begin:
Not for to fayne, and please the tender eares,
But to be playne, as worlds eye witnesse beares:
Not by heresay, as fables are set out,
But by good proofe, of vewe to voyd a dout.
And Flintshiere now, comes brauely marching in,
With Castles fine, with proper Townes and men,
Whereof in verse, my matter must begin:
Not for to fayne, and please the tender eares,
But to be playne, as worlds eye witnesse beares:
Not by heresay, as fables are set out,
But by good proofe, of vewe to voyd a dout.
When
Sommer sweete, hath blowne ore Winters blast,
And waies waxe hard, that now are soft and foule:
When calmie Skyes, sayth bitter stormes are past,
And Clowdes waxe cleere, that now doth lowre and skoule,
My muse I hope, shall be reuiu'de againe,
That now lyes dead, or rockt a sleepe with paine.
For labour long, hath wearied so the wit,
That studious head, a while in rest must sit:
But when the Spring, comes on with newe delite,
You shall from me, heare what my muse doth write.
And waies waxe hard, that now are soft and foule:
When calmie Skyes, sayth bitter stormes are past,
And Clowdes waxe cleere, that now doth lowre and skoule,
My muse I hope, shall be reuiu'de againe,
That now lyes dead, or rockt a sleepe with paine.
For labour long, hath wearied so the wit,
That studious head, a while in rest must sit:
But when the Spring, comes on with newe delite,
You shall from me, heare what my muse doth write.
Here endeth my first booke of the worthines of Wales: which
being wel taken, wil encourage me to set forth another: in which
work, not only the rest of the Shieres (that now are not written
of) shalbe orderly put in print, but likewise all ye auncient Armes
of Gentlemen there in general shalbe plainly described & set out,
to the open vewe of the world, if God permit me life and health,
towards the finishing of so great a labour.
Thomas Churchyard.
FINIS.
| The Worthines of Wales | |